The Deacon's Bench
If you visited Facebook Friday afternoon, you would have seen on a sidebar a list of some of the stories that were trending around the world – what people were reading, sharing, talking about. High on the list was the new cast for “Game of Thrones,” Ben Affleck as Batman, a documentary about Nicholas Cage and the suspension of Ray Rice from the N.F.L after he was indicted on charges of assaulting his fiancée.
You would have to look very hard to find any discussion at all about what I would say is the most important, most harrowing story of the week—quite possibly, the most historically significant story of this year.
That is: the obliteration of Christianity from Iraq.
The world is only now waking up to a horror that is unfolding before our eyes. It wasn’t until Thursday that the New York Times editorial page finally weighed in and condemned what is happening there. Other media coverage has been scant. Our government has been largely silent.
But attention must be paid. The gospel we just heard is about a pearl of great price – the kingdom of God. As I speak, some of our brothers and sisters seeking that pearl are paying the ultimate price. They are paying for it with their lives.
In the city of Mosul, the second largest city in Iraq, the church bells have fallen silent. For the first time in 1600 years, there are no Christian church services, no Masses, no liturgies. Crosses have been ripped from churches. The cathedral has been turned in to a mosque. A monastery has been raided, looted, overtaken; the monks have been expelled, taking only the clothes on their backs. In a video that is, frankly, incredible, the ancient tomb of the prophet Jonah—one of the holiest sites in the region—was bombed and destroyed.
Men, women and children are literally running for their lives, fleeing to safer places to the north. In some towns, ISIS – the Islamist extremist group now dominating the country—has cut off water supplies and electricity. They have confiscated medicine. If they catch people trying to flee, they take everything they have – passports, medicine, wedding rings. The edict has gone forth: convert to Islam, or pay an outrageous tax that no one can afford. If you do not pay, you will be killed. It’s not an idle threat. Some people are being crucified.
And it is happening for one reason only: because they are Christian.
Seventy years ago, my father fought a war to stop genocide on the continent where his parents, my grandparents, were born. Now it has returned, in another place, targeting another group, going by another name. One Catholic archbishop has called it, bluntly, “religious cleansing.”
This time, the ones being cleansed are us. Christians. The first Christians were baptized in Iraq nearly 20 centuries ago. Some speak the same language that Christ himself spoke, Aramaic. Now they are being crushed under the heel of evil.
Last week, during his general audience, Pope Francis led a moment of silence to pray for the people of Iraq. The Chaldean Catholic patriarch Louis Sako wrote an open letter, saying that for the first time in his history, Mosul is completely empty of Christians, and warning that the country is facing — quote – “a humanitarian, cultural and historical disaster.”
The roots of this evil run deep. And the roots have spread like a cancer.
Some are trying to stop it—including Muslims. Last week, professor Mahmoud Al Asali at the University of Mosul spoke out against the reign of terror being inflicted on Christians, saying he believes it goes against the Muslim commandments.
For his courage, he was killed.
And yet, even now, other voices are continuing to be raised.
Friday, Jordan’s Prince El Hassan – himself a descendent of Muhammad – called for an end to violence in the name of religion in a statement that was signed by several religious and secular leaders. He wrote: “We cannot stand idly by and watch as the lives of the most vulnerable, our women and our children, are destroyed in the name of religion.”
Last Sunday, in Baghdad, both Muslims and Christians gathered in the St. George Chaldean Church to pray together—and to weep together. Some Muslims carried signs: “I’m Iraqi, I’m Christian” – a powerful show of solidarity.
In Mosul, members of ISIS have been marking Christian homes with the Arabic letter “N,” which stands for “Nazarene” – meaning Christian. It is reminiscent of the Star of David that marked Jews in Nazi Germany. But now, that “N” has swept social media and is even being seen on tee shirts. The message: no matter what our belief or our nationality, we are all Christians. We are all Iraqis. We stand together in defiance of genocide, of persecution, of hate.
Last week, my friend the writer and blogger Elizabeth Scalia wrote about this tragedy and urged action. Write to your leaders, she said, senators, members of Congress, bishops. Make them know that this matters, and why. She suggested donating to aid agencies like the one where I work, Catholic Near East Welfare Association, which supports people on the ground, caring for this growing tide of refugees, those Iraqis running for their lives.
Then, she said, pray. Fast. And pray some more.
She wrote: “Invoke the great cloud of witnesses and ask them for their prayers before the Throne, including: Saint Francis— himself, friend of the Sultan. We are in possession of the most subversive weapon of ambush,” she wrote, “which is prayer. “
If there is any consolation here, it is this: Our brothers and sisters in the Middle East are not facing this alone.
Neither are we.
Many in the media may be ignoring this onslaught. We cannot.
We hold in our hearts our own pearl of great price: a pearl of faith and hope. Pearls, of course, are not created in a vacuum. They are born from friction, hardship. Out of that comes a miracle: a jewel of profound simplicity and humbling beauty, giving off radiance and light.
Let us offer that pearl in prayer to our Lady, the Queen of Martyrs, who knows only too well the tears that are being shed, the desperation that is being felt. She has known their terror. She has spoken their language. She has also been a refugee, fleeing from tyrants.
At this moment of despair, we turn to her with love and with trust. We pray for her intercession. We pray for her solace.
We pray, above all, for peace for all our suffering brothers and sisters in Iraq, and around the world.
Our Lady, Queen of Martyrs, pray for us.
UPDATE: CNEWA on Monday announced a new emergency fundraising appeal for Iraqi Christians. Check out this link.
Ad-Free & Subscriber Log-In