Assyrian Democratic Organization ADO
This year, Baghdad’s Christians are celebrating the season of peace and goodwill discreetly and in fear of further attacks on their churches, in a climate of rising violence in war-torn Iraq.
“Lots of people have told me they’re afraid to come,” says Pastor Nabil Sara at the Baptist Evangelist Church in the northeast of the Iraqi capital.
“There will only be one service, on December 25 at 8:00 am,” he says, sat surrounded by presents awaiting the congregation’s children.
Christians have been hit by a series of attacks since the fall of Saddam Hussein’s secular regime last year, with 10 people killed and 50 wounded when bombs targeted churches in Baghdad and the northern city of Mosul in August.
Makeshift bombs again exploded outside five Baghdad churches in October, this time claiming no victims.
But at the Baptist church, Jenny Muaffaq insists that shootings, car bombings and curfew regulations will not stop her celebrating the birth of Christ.
“People don’t have the festive spirit but I will celebrate Christmas whatever it takes,” she says.
“All my friends tell me that they will take part in Christmas masses,” enthuses her friend, Maha Hadda.
“Normally we organise events at clubs or at home. This year, that won’t be possible. How can you feel safe going home at night, with everything that’s going on?” she says.
In the same church, Salem Aziz, 71, looks downcast. His grandson has decided to emigrate to Sweden, and his nephew was kidnapped and then “released, fortunately, in return for money,” he says.
Muslims “are also kidnapped, but we are seen as vulnerable, so they take advantage,” he says with sadness is his voice.
Some 700,000 Christians live in Iraq, accounting for three percent of the mostly Muslim population of 24 million.
Emmanuel Delly, the patriarch of Iraq’s Chaldeans, the country’s largest Christian community, has rescheduled Christmas Eve mass from 10:00 pm to 5:00 pm in what he says is a protest at attacks on Christians.
But it seems unlikely that the earlier time will have any impact on Iraq’s increasingly empty pews.
On Sunday evening, a flock of barely 50 faithful attended mass at the huge church of Saint Mary, in the Mansur district.
“I’m not afraid, but look at how many we are today. Even the children’s parties have been cancelled,” says Fenar Yussef, 24.
Shopkeepers with Christian clientele also wonder if this is really the season to be jolly, with few people thinking about decking their homes in decorations.
“We’re selling a lot less Christmas trees than last year. People aren’t in a festive mood,” says shop assistant Jedid.
“This time last year I had sold 500 trees, this year only 100,” says Hassan Sadeq, purveyor of plastic Christmas trees imported from China.
“Usually by mid-December we’ve sold them all and we re-order. But now you can see that the shop is still full,” says Saif Abdel Salam, 18.
“Many of my Christian clients have left the country,” he says.
At Baghdad’s Saint Thomas church, which was hit by a bomb blast in October, some 50 people are taking part in a freezing evening mass, doubtless asking themselves what Father Christmas has in store for them next year.
