October 26, 2002
When the paved roads are bulldozed, the dirt roads will have to suffice.
Marthame dressed in the clergy robe Deacon Firas gave him and went off to the garage. Since we've been here, our work has been intentionally ecumenical. This has led to confusion - Fr. Louis had introduced Marthame to the Latin community as Deacon, while the Anglican parish has known him as Pastor. Slowly, the ecumenical urgency of our work is reaching people - the Byzantine-style black robe fits into both sides of the equation (confusion and definition).
Both Marthame and Firas were going to go to Jenin to care of some errands (Marthame paying our phone bill and getting his ear cleared up, Firas taking his driver's test) before heading on to Jalame. Obviously, Jenin was a non-starter today, so the two of them grabbed a taxi "directly" to Jalame - the familiar roundabout, choppy dirt road to the Palestinian border town. Firas' new responsibilities as deacon (and, soon to be, priest) include not only Zababdeh's Melkite community, but also for the Christians in Jalame and Muqeible. Not more than a quarter mile separates the two villages, but the two places couldn't seem more apart.
First was Muqeible, just on the Israeli side of the Green Line. Our taxi delivered us to Jalame, on the Palestinian side. We walked towards the checkpoint, not a single car to be found on the settler bypass road - normally, there is at least a trickle of settler traffic and a handful of Arab Israelis entering Jalame for cross-border trade. As we walked, Firas prayed, the two of us looking like Melkite mafia in our robes.
The soldier motioned to us: "wahad, wahad - one by one." Marthame went first, chatting with the soldier (both were nursing colds). Firas approached, carrying his Vatican laissez-passe. The soldier pressed Firas for another ID, knowing he must have a Palestinian ID, meaning he could not enter Israel "for security reasons" - once a Palestinian, always a Palestinian. But Firas did not have (wisely did not bring) any ID other than the Vatican laissez-passe. Finally, the soldier turned to Marthame, asking, "is he with you?"
"Yes."
"OK. Go."
Deacon Firas looking at the plans drawn up by the Christians in Muqeible, Israel.
A section of the property wall for the church in Muqeible.
The two arrived in the town of Muqeible at one of the Christian homes there. The streets are wide, newly-paved, and clean. The lawns - there are lawns here, by the way - are fresh and green. Of Muqeible's roughly 3000 residents, 6% (about 200) are Christian. The rest are Muslim. They are divided among three parishes: Greek Orthodox, Melkite, and Roman Catholic. Despite the historic presence of Christians here, though, there is no church. The community is beginning to change that, and the young Christian men of the village have taken the leadership. The regional council (Muslim, Christian, and Jewish) has given them land to build, and they have received all the necessary permits - an amazing feat for Arabs in Israel - and their architectural plans are drawn up. They have already begun to build, too, walling off three sides of the church lands. They'll need more money to complete, much more money than they can afford, but they have at least grabbed the attention of the church hierarchy. Firas is hoping to set up a meeting between the bishop and these active young laymen so that work can continue apace. An amazing story of building a church, interfaith cooperation - particularly the support and involvement of the village's Muslim community - and lay initiative. Their vision of the place is as a church for all three traditions, served by whomever can serve. It'll be interesting to see where the hierarchy can embrace this remarkable ecumenical vision.
Deacon Firas meeting up with some of Jalame’s Christian community.
Father and daughter, members of Jalame’s Christian community.
The order of Muqeible was soon traded for the disorder of Jalame (after one border crossing and a pat-down security check of two clergy) - houses built tightly together, garbage strewn about, little emphasis on municipal planning. Asking around, we soon found one of the Christians of Jalame - who number 70 in a village of 2000. They, too, have an historical presence here, but no church, and they are closely related to Christian families in Muqeible and Jenin. Ministerial responsibility has usually fallen to the clergy of Jenin, but the last two years have changed that. No priest has visited in six months, and they haven't had Christmas or Easter celebrations in a while. All of the usual Arab Christian trappings are found in the home - pictures and statues of Christ, the holy family, and St. George; a variety of crosses and crucifixes. Home is the place of prayer and Christian education here. Several years ago, the municipality gave Christians land for a graveyard (for years they have had to be buried in other Christian cemeteries), but some of the villagers resented the placement of it near their homes and businesses - the municipality relented, and the community remains without. The contrast between the two towns couldn't be more striking.
After lunch back in Zababdeh, Marthame went down to Tubas to see an ear doctor - it's a large enough village for specialists, and Jenin won't open anytime soon. To make a long story short, he's hearing again in that ear. Jenin may be closed, but at least Marthame's ear is open. Now if they would only open local utility offices in Tubas so we could pay our phone bill!
In the evening, Marthame and Firas spent time on the internet trying to connect with churches - particularly Melkite ones - who would be interested in being in relationship with Zababdeh. The Bishop of Haifa has provided some financial support to the church, but not enough to rebuild. In this economic environment (if one can call it that), the idea of Zababdeh building on its own is absurd. So Deacon Firas is turning to the West - as he puts it, the place that "we evangelized."