From the Council to postmodern globalization
The declaration Nostra Aetate (1965) placed dialogue at the center of the Catholic Church’s relations with other religions, developing the indications given in St. Paul VI’s encyclical Ecclesiam Suam (1964) about the dialogue of salvation and the teaching of the dogmatic constitution Lumen Gentium (1964) on the Church. The current phenomenon of globalization instead focuses attention on religious pluralism and the challenge of fundamentalism, and not only Islamic fundamentalism. This is occurring in a cultural context increasingly marked by a pervasive relativism that corrupts all certainty into a “liquid magma” as it were, that perfectly serves the development of a consumerist society where the “disposable” is easily transferred from the product to the consumer and the individual’s social relations, as well as even to God.
In this new context the Christian faith must not stop affirming that God “desires everyone to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth” (1 Tim 2:4) and that “there is no other name under heaven given among mortals by which we must be saved” (Acts 4:12) than that of Jesus, who died and rose again to give every human being this salvation. It was the attempt to maintain this tension, without sacrificing either pole, that typified Joseph Ratzinger’s theological approach to interreligious dialogue.
The first step in correctly articulating these two demands is to realize that there have been different ways of doing so, often dependent on different historico-social and pastoral contexts. They are closely linked to the development of the doctrine that “outside the Church there is no salvation” (extra ecclesiam nulla salus), the interpretation of which has often conditioned the correct reception of the “dialogue of salvation” promoted by the Second Vatican Council.
A case of dogmatic development
This expression was first used by Origen and later underwent a hermeneutical development beyond its original context, passing through a history often linked to the enlargement of the cultural and geographical boundaries of the Church. In the initial patristic context, the expression referred primarily to those who had voluntarily separated themselves from the ecclesial communion they had once enjoyed and outside of which for them there could be no salvation. The discourse was thus mostly intraecclesial and in a context where the boundaries of the world were often identified with those of the Roman Empire.
It should be noted, in any case, that as early as Justin, almost as a counterpoint, a reflection developed that identifies in the lovers of the logos – that is, the pagan philosophers, Socrates in the lead – precursors of Jesus Christ, Logos incarnate. In Augustine this theological line developed to the point of affirming that, from Abel onward, the Church already existed not only in God’s thought, but also, albeit embryonically, on the historical plane (Ecclesia ab Abel). Confronted with the phenomenon of barbarian migrations, the Augustinian tradition experienced two developments. One, with Prosper of Aquitaine (390-455), secretary of Pope Leo the Great, reacted to the presence of the Germanic peoples by recognizing in them the presence of the semina Verbi. The other, with Fulgentius of Ruspe (467-532), instead affirmed that “not only all pagans, but also all Jews, heretics and schismatics who end their present life outside the Catholic Church will go ‘into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels’.”
The latter interpretation, wrongly attributed to Augustine, prevailed during medieval Christendom. But even here things are not unambiguous. Alongside the canonical reception of the patristic viewpoint, which identifies ecclesial boundaries with strictly canonical ones, we also find theological reflections, such as those of Thomas Aquinas, that instead developed the other pole of Augustine’s legacy, going so far as to speak of an “implicit faith” and a “differentiated” membership of the ecclesial body, thanks in part to an unusual focus on the Jewish world.
At the dawn of the Renaissance, on the basis of the hope that full communion with the East could now be achieved, the Council of Florence took up the saying of Fulgentius, considering that at this point in Christendom everyone now seems to have a reasonable chance of salvation. A promoter of this “ecumenical” dream was Cardinal Niccolò Cusano, who, with his Christocentric universalism, moved between the desire to achieve full unity with the East and an encounter with an Islam that was pressing more and more on the eastern borders of Christendom. The failure of the Florentine ecumenical project (1451), combined with the fall of Constantinople (1453), revealed the historical lack of plausibility of the dream he cherished in his De Pace Fidei (1453).
The exact scope of the ancient patristic saying soon had to be measured by the further understanding of the universal nature of the Church, brought about by the discovery of lands beyond the Atlantic (1492) and the expansion of Christianity into India and Asia. Here it would be above all the Dominicans and Jesuits who provided the most interesting theological developments, which had to measure themselves against new and ancient cultures and religious beliefs, hitherto totally unknown to Europeans. Responses referred to St. Thomas’ complex notions of natural law, invincible ignorance and implicit faith.
Meanwhile, in a Europe convulsed by the struggle between Catholics and Protestants, we must record the almost simultaneous development of the most restrictive Augustinianism, which would result in Jansenist rigorism, according to which outside the canonical boundaries of the Church there would be only eternal damnation. Interestingly, while the Magisterium of the Church has never condemned any of the theological hypotheses that matured within the missionary experience, even the most daring ones, it has instead repeatedly condemned Jansenism and its excessively rigorist soteriology.
Indeed, it was the influence of missionary theology that prompted the influential Jesuit Giovanni Perrone (1794-1876), long a professor at the Roman College, to apply – as did John Henry Newman – what he considered the “dogma” of extra ecclesiam only to heretics, schismatics and those personally responsible for their failure to believe. Pope Pius IX made this line of interpretation his own, insisting very much on the grave responsibility it placed on Catholics.
In the light of these developments, barely hinted at here, we should not be surprised by what Henri de Lubac wrote in 1938: “Today there is agreement in recognizing, according to the suggestions of the fathers and according to the principles of St. Thomas, that the grace of Christ is universal and that the concrete means of salvation – in the full sense of this word – is not lacking to any soul of good will. There is no man, there is no ‘infidel’ whose supernatural conversion to God is not possible from the beginning of his ability to reason.” Lucidly he acknowledged, however, that the task still remained to “account for the statement of faith that grounds the missionary activity of the Church.”
In the subsequent pontifical magisterium, Pius XII’s encyclical Mystici Corporis (1943) should be noted, along with the condemnation issued by the Holy Office in 1949 of the exclusivist interpretation of extra ecclesiam advocated by the American Jesuit Leonard Feeney (cf. DS 3866-3873). All this rich heritage would later be taken up and reworked by the Second Vatican Council, beginning with an awareness of the waning ideal of Christendom as a unity and the minority condition in which Christians often have to live today. All this was to be seen in the light of the persistent divine vocation to the unity of the whole human race, so dear to Pope John XXIII.
Hence there came about the fundamental broadening of ecumenical horizons brought about by nos. 8 and 15 of Lumen Gentium and the decree Unitatis Redintegratio, with their effects on interreligious dialogue. In fact, a detailed history of the text of Lumen Gentium shows how “the growth of awareness of the mystery of the Church will correspond in a directly proportional manner to the emergence of a new consideration for other religions.” There is the important clarification, however, that “Vatican II, contrary to what some interpreters have wished to see, does not claim that religions as such constitute paths to salvation.”
Taking stock of all this doctrinal development, in 1997 the International Theological Commission qualified “as theologically certain” the possibility of salvation for those who do not visibly belong to the Catholic Church. Almost returning to the distant patristic origins of our expression, the authoritative document declares that “the Second Vatican Council makes the phrase extra ecclesiam nulla salus its own, but sees it as explicitly addressing Catholics and limits its validity to those who know the necessity of the Church for salvation.” However, the problem remains open “concerning the meaning of the Church in relation to the salvation of those who are saved outside her.”
It is not surprising then if in an interview Pope Benedict XVI, already emeritus, reiterated that “there is no doubt that at this point we are witnessing a profound evolution of dogma,” while noting the resulting crisis of missionary dynamism, as well as the fading evidence as to why “the Christian himself is bound to the demands of faith and its morality.” He pointed to a “being-for-others” of every Christian, rooted in the “being-for-all” of Christ, and the vicarious substitution shared with them through baptism as the direction in which to look for a possible response to this significant challenge for the future of Christian witness in the world.
Rabbinic Israel, frontier between ecumenism and interreligious dialogue
The relationship with post-biblical Israel also appears to us today as another case of doctrinal development implied by interreligious dialogue. This has been a development that was in fact constituted by a return in depth to the origins of the Christian faith. If we refer to the history of the drafting of the declaration Nostra Aetate, we can in fact see that the current No. 4, where the Jews are mentioned, constituted the last paragraph of the first schema of what would later become the decree on ecumenism (Unitatis Redintegratio).
Pope John XXIII directly requested the first ecumenical schema from Cardinal Augustine Bea, and it was theologically very fruitful. The idea behind it was to emphasize how no recomposition of the visible unity of the Church was possible if it were claimed this could be done without acknowledging the relationship with Israel. The early Church was made up of faithful who came from both the Jewish people (ecclesia e circumcisione) and paganism (ecclesia e gentibus), both united in Christ in one ecclesial body. This fact is not merely a historical-sociological concept, but a deeply theological truth, as shown by Rom 9-11, a key text in No. 4 of Nostra Aetate.
Subsequent discussion during the Council, however, prompted the separation of this important text from the initial ecumenical schema. It would be preceded by a treatment of the religious phenomenon, of Eastern religions, and especially Islam, at the request of the Church leaders of the Middle East, then grappling with the Arab-Israeli conflict. Hence Nostra Aetate was born.
The reception of No. 4 of this declaration, especially through the work and teaching of St. John Paul II, has shown the impossibility of considering Judaism as merely one non-Christian religion among others, thus returning to Pope John’s initial insight. The current structuring of the conciliar declaration has the merit of drawing attention to the relevance also of interreligious dialogue with Rabbinic Judaism. For if it cannot be considered simply as another religion on the theological level, it must be so regarded on the socio-historical as well as hermeneutical level. The Church’s complex relationship with Israel thus comes to stand at the frontier between ecumenism and interreligious dialogue.
In addition, since the famous speech given by St. John Paul II in Mainz in 1980, there has also been a gradual affirmation of the need to overcome what has been called the traditional “theology of substitution,” according to which the Church now occupies Israel’s place in God’s saving plan. This “substitution” was actually impossible, since, according to Rom 11:29, the covenant with Israel was never revoked by God. So the idea of a pagan-Christian mission explicitly addressed to the Jews as a people, without thereby undermining individual, often fruitful prophetic paths, also came to an end. This prompted an influential theologian, Donato Valentini, to write that “in few other areas has there been such obvious rethinking and progress in the understanding of the Christian faith as in the relationship between Judaism and Christianity.”
Indeed, with the fruitful reception of Nostra Aetate No. 4, a “decisive change began, after some 19 centuries, with respect to certain theological views and unjust practical attitudes toward the Jews.” Despite the always lurking political aspects, and the understandable psychological difficulties induced by the change, Valentini concludes, “it is to be believed that this overcoming, this turning point […] was a special grace of the Holy Spirit and the fruit of the foresight and wisdom of Peter’s successors.”
Here we want to at least note how, by the mere fact that it safeguarded its identity as the chosen people, Rabbinic Judaism actually prevented the total assimilation of Israel within Christianity and then within modern secularized society. In this way, Rabbinic Judaism played a key theological role. By preventing the complete assimilation of the Chosen People, it has in fact guarded the possibility that the mysterious relationship between Israel and the nations that remains at the heart of the universality of God’s saving plan for humanity after Christ’s death and resurrection will never fail, even on the historical level.
An acknowledgment of similar theological weight was made on the Jewish side in a statement by several rabbis, published as a reply to the latest Vatican document on Judaism, “The Gifts and the Calling of God are Irrevocable (Rom 11:29).” After appreciating “the Church’s affirmation regarding Israel’s unique place in sacred history and in the world’s final redemption,” the Jewish statement acknowledges that “Christianity is neither an accident nor a mistake, but the outcome due to the divine will and a gift to the nations. In separating Judaism and Christianity, God intended a separation between interlocutors with important theological differences, not a separation between enemies.”
These important and historic statements, which are stirring heated debate within the Jewish world, should be received by us Christians with joy and sincere gratitude to the God of Israel and Lord of history. This reception, however, should not unduly infer that the uniqueness of salvation in Christ has been lost by positing the existence of two parallel paths of salvation. Instead, it will be a matter of modulating this indispensable uniqueness in another way, first of all by placing it decisively within the messianic horizon of Christ’s second coming, of which it could be a sign.
It must also be affirmed, with Ratzinger, that in this time of messianic expectation “the Church should not be concerned with the conversion of the Jews, for it is necessary to await the time appointed by God, when the totality of the Gentiles will have attained salvation (cf. Rom 11:25).” The Vatican document on Jewish-Christian Dialogue, published almost at the beginning of Pope Francis’ pontificate, adds for its part that “It is and remains a qualitative definition of the Church of the New Covenant that it consists of Jews and Gentiles, even if the quantitative proportions of Jewish and Gentile Christians may initially give a different impression.”
From a Christian perspective, there is certainly one covenant, still inclusive of the one with Israel, whereby, according to Lumen Gentium No. 16, post-Biblical Israel “is to relate dynamically to the ‘people of God of Jews and Gentiles, united in Christ,’ he whom the Church confesses as the universal mediator of creation and salvation.”
In the light of Christ’s second coming, the controversial phenomenon of the “Messianic Jews” could finally also find its proper theological context, which, although it gives rise to more or less strong tensions with the rabbinic world, is nevertheless historically unthinkable without it. Indeed, it constitutes a surprising fruit, however much it is still viewed by many with suspicion, if not hostile distrust.
The Islamic-Christian Dialogue
Let us now consider the relationship with Muslims, mentioned in Nostra Aetate No. 3. If, as noted above, Rabbinic Judaism is, on the socio-historical and hermeneutical level, another religion than Christianity, from this point of view it should then also be able to illuminate interreligious dialogue, primarily that with Islam, which for Christianity, unlike Rabbinic Judaism, is another religion on the theological level as well.
The collective Muslim document A Common Word (2007), the unexpected fruit of Benedict XVI’s famous Regensburg speech – although, unfortunately, forgotten by many – had already opened this path, proposing the dual commandment of love of God and neighbor as a possible meeting point between Islam, Christianity and Judaism itself. This Muslim document, which the Abu Dhabi declaration has somewhat eclipsed, perhaps also for contextually political reasons, from a theological point of view constitutes a statement of great importance, which is not at all outdated.
A significant consequence of this approach is the fact that we can also bring the person of Jesus of Nazareth into the three-sided dialogue, at least to the extent that, on the historical-critical level, Jesus appears to us more and more as the one who perfectly fulfilled the first commandment, the Shema’ Israel (Deut 6:4). This is because of his full submission to the will of the God and Father of Israel, a people whose religious commitment is still characterized today by the centrality of that commandment and of whom the Nazarene is a son to all intents and purposes. This is a fact that Jewish scholarship itself has now recognized. Put another way, some significant aspects of the pre-Easter Jesus could fully fit into the interreligious dialogue between Christianity, Judaism and Islam, while the disagreement about Jesus’ post-Easter Messianic status, accessible only in the light of his unexpected resurrection from the dead, remains insuperable
This could favor an appreciation, from an interfaith perspective, of the interpretation of Jesus given by the Muslim tradition, predominantly Sufi, which willingly refers to the Gospel of Matthew, especially the Sermon on the Mount. It is to be understood as a development of that striking Quranic datum that Jesus is a messenger (nabi and rasul) of Allah, who submitted to him so fully that he lived – unlike all other envoys, including Muhammad – without sin. Only Mary, his Mother, is like him without sin. Therefore, he is qualified as the “word of God” (kalimat Allah: cf. Quran 4:171 and 3:45), in whom the Spirit of holiness dwells in an exceptional way (cf. Quran 2:87 and 153).
Certainly, as Ignatius De Francesco states, “the Jesus who seems to emerge from each of these sayings is a prophet speaking from Islam and to Islam, yet in his figure and words there is a persistent echo, although not always clearly perceptible, that recalls his origin from elsewhere […]. An unbiased reading of these texts will allow one to understand that the difference between the two ‘Christological’ readings is substantial, yet there is between them an undeniable and inescapable link. Even when a tradition is radically reinterpreted, that is not to say the outcome completely destroys the starting point.” While it certainly cannot be considered a divinely inspired Book from the Christian perspective, the Quran nevertheless contains some elements of God’s revelation that can be traced back to what St. John Paul II called a process that “reduces Divine Revelation.”
A process still not fully clarified on the historical level, but in which it seems legitimate to glimpse the presence of that Spirit of Christ, who, as Vatican II affirms in a text very dear to St. John Paul II, we must hold that it “offers everyone the possibility of being associated, in the way God knows, with this paschal mystery” (Gaudium et Spes, No. 22).
The same applies to Mary, not only in relation to the Quranic text, but also to the widespread devotion paid to her in the Muslim world.
The Marian prophecy of Tibhirine: dialogue and martyrdom
Finally, we want to show how all this found an exemplary prophetic fulfillment in the life and death of the Trappist monks of Tibhirine, Algeria, who were beatified in Oran on December 8, 2018, as part of a group of 19 martyrs who were living in the country at the time of the civil war. As time goes by, we see more and more how this was a local event in which many factors converged, which, later, would become significant on a global scale, almost as if it were a kind of spiritual and theological laboratory. The lives and deaths of these monks seem to have borne out dramatically what Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI stated above about the new way of understanding the meaning of Christian mission today.
Indeed, we find ourselves in the context of a local Church living in a minority situation in a country with an overwhelming Muslim majority, a former French colony that had won independence in 1962 after a long and bloody war that began in 1954. In this Church, led for a long time by the authoritative and charismatic personality of Cardinal Duval, archbishop of Algiers from 1954 to 1988, the conciliar teaching, as well as the gestures and words of the magisterium of St. John Paul II, found a very special echo. This is also thanks to the spiritual legacy of Saint Charles de Foucauld, who in 1900, passed through Tibhirine. They shared a an inheritance, together with the Badaliya of Massignon, well alive in Algeria’s Catholics, mostly foreigners and religious, and characterized by the awareness of being guests of the Algerian people, called to witness to Christ not so much through preaching and explicit proclamation, but rather through prayer and the fraternal welcome of Muslims, a welcome received first and then given.
This legacy was drawn on by these monks, and they harmonized it within the prayerful and liturgical monastic listening to the Word lived in community. This was a listening that, in the case of Prior Christian de Chergé and Vice-Prior Christophe Lebreton, took on the features of an experience of exceptional mystical intensity, now well documented. It is noted how none of the monks had training in Islamic thought.
It was overtly Christian spiritual sources that enabled them to experience with the burning torches of faith in the dead and risen Jesus, the dark and terrible drama of the Algerian civil war, which broke out on January 11, 1992, and claimed between 150,000 and 200,000 victims, mostly Muslim civilians, and a minority of Christians, almost always with the explicit features of martyrdom. It saw head-on confrontation between Islamic fundamentalism, fueled by jihadist fighters who had returned from the anti-Soviet war in Afghanistan, which they won partly thanks to massive Western support, and the post-colonial political elite, backed by France but discredited in the country. In this deadly grip, along with the civilian population, the defenseless, but by no means naive, monks of Tibhirine were also crushed.
In an authoritative study, conducted on the basis of first-hand documents then unpublished, an enlightening novelty appears, which has hitherto been unknown to most: the fact, that is, that the prior of the community had become, along with three other monks, the soul of a small prayer and reflection group, baptized Ribât Es-Salâm (“Bond of Peace”), with reference to the Arabic version of Eph 4:3, and founded on March 25, 1979, the feast of the Annunciation, very dear to the Cistercian tradition and significant for Muslims as well.
Beginning in 1980, a number of Algerian Sufis also regularly participated in this group, thus giving it the unexpected characteristics of a Christian-Sufi spiritual communion. The study documents, on the basis of the valuable Bulletin that punctually accompanied the group’s life since 1984, how the two realities spiritually coexisted, step by step, throughout the drama of a civil war that profoundly tore apart the Algerian Islamic world, thus giving evidence of heroic hope in God. Three members of the group were killed by jihadists even before the monks were kidnapped on the night of March 26-27, just as the group’s 33rd meeting and commemoration of the anniversary of its founding were underway. Thanks to this Islamo-Christian group, the martyrdom of the monks of Tibhirine thus also intersects, with a discreet but powerful Marian touch, the internal drama of Algerian Islam in those years, bringing out its unrecognized spiritual depth, which would from then on extend to the entire Muslim Umma.
At the same time, the martyrdom of these Trappist monks, now beatified, seems to us to expose the ideological inconsistency of the touted “clash of civilizations.” It is actually a pitiful veil that hides, in a deceptive game of mirrors, unmentionable and unconfessed power alliances between supposed enemies, all in reality united by an almost satanic delusion of omnipotence, whose only certainty is the useless and guilty slaughter of countless innocents. Also emerging from Tibhirine is a theology of difference, with a strong mystical connotation, experienced as a special consecration to the brethren of Islam, in the belief that only God knows the way and the time when humanity will become one people.
Now there is nothing here of the superficial postmodern liquid relativism, which empties interreligious dialogue itself of any real consistency, as well as its eventual reduction to a generic form of human fraternity. On the contrary, the radical identification, even to the point of martyrdom, with the immolated Lamb and the divine Bridegroom comes to light, an identification prepared and even desired in the suffering of spiritual combat, the only true jihad, which, in Lebreton’s case, is even prophesied. This is why the Islamic-Christian spiritual dialogue experienced by the monks of Tibhirine was a “dialogue of salvation” in its own right. We are here confronted with an authentic Gospel sine glossa, which allows its truth, even dogmatic truth, to better shine through, namely, the boundless Love of God manifested in the risen Crucified One, the Son of the Father who only begs from us a welcoming cooperation for the salvation of our world.
In their historical context, these monks were the embodiment of a Church that is called to reverberate Jesus, light of the nations, even for those outside its visible boundaries. This attests to how the real issue of interreligious dialogue is not the uniqueness of salvation in Christ, man’s only redeemer: it is rather about the holiness with which Christians, rediscovered as a sociological minority, often persecuted, can witness to it.
If we illustrate the innovative way in which Lumen Gentium conceived of the relations between the Catholic Church and other religions by means of Bohr’s classic atomic model, we can easily see how, without the energy coming from an authentic striving for the holiness of Christ on the part of Catholic Christians, for whom there is certainly no salvation outside the Church, there is actually a risk of missing that nucleus which alone makes it possible for non-Christian religions not to turn into electrons gone mad. Hence the urgency, by no means waning, of Christian mission today, exemplarily witnessed by the monks of Tibhirine and their fellow martyrs of the Lamb.
. Fulgentius of Ruspe, De fide, seu de regula verae fidei ad Petrum 38, 81.
. Cf. H. Denzinger – P. Hünermann, Enchiridion Symbolorum, no. 1351, Bologna, EDB, 1995, 601.
. H. de Lubac, Cattolicesimo. Aspetti sociali del dogma, Milan, Jaca Book 1992, 159.
. Ibid., 161.
. F. Iannone, Una Chiesa per gli altri. Il Concilio Vaticano II e le religioni non cristiane, Assisi (Pg), Cittadella, 2014, 66.
. G. Canobbio, Chiesa, religioni, salvezza. Il Vaticano II e la sua recezione, Brescia, Morcelliana, 2007, 53; italics ours.
. International Theological Commission, Christianity and Religions, no. 63.
. Ibid., no. 67.
. G. Canobbio, Chiesa, religioni, salvezza…, op. cit., 63.
. D. Libanori (ed.), Per mezzo della fede. Dottrina della giustificazione ed esperienza di Dio nella predicazione della Chiesa e negli Esercizi Spirituali, Cinisello Balsamo (Mi), San Paolo, 2016, 233.
. Ibid., 134.
. Cf. A. Bea, La Chiesa e il popolo ebraico, Brescia, Morcelliana, 2015, 141.
. D. Valentini, Lo Spirito e la Sposa. Scritti teologici sulla Chiesa di Dio e degli uomini, Vatican City, Libreria Editrice Vaticana, 2009, 62.
. Cf. Osservatore Romano, December 11, 2015; italics ours.
. J. Ratzinger/Benedict XVI, Jesus of Nazareth. Holy Week. From the Entrance into Jerusalem to the Resurrection, Vatican City, Libreria Editrice Vaticana, 2011.
. Commission on Religious Relations with Judaism, “The Gifts and the Calling of God are Irrevocable (Rom 11:29),” No. 43. This important Vatican document dates back to December 10, 2015. It is the Holy See’s most theologically relevant intervention during the pontificate of Pope Francis on the topic of Jewish-Christian dialogue.
. I. De Francesco, “Introduzione”, in I detti islamici di Gesù, Milan, Mondadori, 2009, XXXVIf.
. John Paul II, Crossing the Threshold of Hope, ibid., 1994, 92.
. In Lebanon, a country consecrated in 2020 to the Immaculate Heart of Mary, since 2011, on a Muslim initiative, the state has officially recognized the Annunciation as an Islamic-Christian holiday. To this we can add the inauguration of the first-ever mosque dedicated to Mary, in Tartous, Syria, on June 6, 2015.
. Cf. M. Susini, Cercatori di Dio. Il dialogo tra cristiani e musulmani nel monastero dei martiri di Tibhirine, Bologna, EDB, 2015.
. Cf. ibid., 325-333.