I’m an architecture nut. When I get to see old buildings, especially churches and monasteries, I love to explore every crack and crevice, trying to determine which rooms were used for what purpose, how people lived, and all that. And I take lots of pictures. Ask my grandmother who took me to Portugal a few years ago, and witnessed this as we toured countless churches and monasteries. I took about 1000 pictures in one week exploring only a small fraction of the country’s historic buildings. (see my facebook for all the good pics, there are 3 or 4 albums from that trip!) And only a handful of them actually had people in them. As I prepared for this deployment, CH F often asked me, are you bringing your camera? It’s not the greatest, but I brought it. Then I was issued a much nicer one to use throughout our travels, and I have definitely been putting it to good use. I had expected most pictures would be the standard group shots, and candid shots of soldiers doing crazy things or the Chaplain praying with groups getting ready to roll out on mission. I envisioned the backdrops would be the standard: dust, trash, and maybe some with the vehicles we drive out in. I know I’m not alone in that presumption, I mean, we’re in the desert, what else could there be here?
A couple months ago, CH F and I were traveling by Chinook to visit the guys in from one of our companies. Some dust kicked up along the way, and we ended up staying overnight at COS Marez and did not make it to visit our Soldiers. Since we were there, we looked up our comrades in our sister battalion, CH P and SGT D. They were surprised to see us, but offered to take some time that afternoon to show us around, and they insisted that we had to see “the monastery”. I was confused. Iraq is an Arabic country, what kind of monastery were we going to see on a FOB in the middle of the desert. Now, don’t get me wrong, I know that not all Iraqis are Muslim, and that before Desert Storm, there were some 1 million Christians throughout Iraq, but I was just not expecting to see a monastery in the middle of a military base.
As we made our way to the monastery, CH P and SGT D gave us a little background to the monastery, which I later did some research to remember the details. It was recognized for what it was shortly after the 101st Airborne Division ousted the Iraqi Republican Guard from the area and had themselves taken up residence within the fortress-like ruins. One of the Division’s Chaplains recognized it as an ancient monastery, and after some research, discovered that it was Dair Mar Elia (the Monastery of Saint Elijah), the oldest Christian monastery in Iraq, with a history dating back to the 6th century. It was built by Assyrian monks, but at some point it was taken over by Chaldean Catholic monks. It served as a residence and place of worship for about 11 centuries. The surrounding lands suggest that is was once a verdant pasture and the monks most likely harvested food to support themselves and the local community. Monastic communities follow this model even today, seeking to remain self-sufficient and offer the excess to their local communities. The monastery was thriving until 1743 when Persian invaders ordered the monks to leave. Probably 150 monks resided there at the time, and when they all refused to leave, the Persian leader had them slain, and nearly destroyed the buildings. It was used as a refugee center after World War I, and was incorporated into the Iraqi Republican Guard base in the 1970s. At that point, the monastery practically fell off the radar of the school of archaeology at the University of Mosul, and its history was left to the oral tradition of another local monastery, Al Qosh.
From my experience exploring monasteries in Europe, the tradition was to have a fortress like outer wall to prevent invasion and persecution from the outside community, and offer peace and privacy for the monks as they went through their daily routines of prayer and work. What remains of Saint Elijah Monastery shows that it was built according to the same concept. While the monks themselves did not withstand the invasion of the Persians, what remains of the monastery has withstood being in the center of a major battle in the 2003 invasion of Iraq. As the US assaulted the Iraqi Republican Guard, they fired a missile at one of the Iraqis’ Russian tanks, blowing the turret off the top and into the side wall of the monastery’s chapel. The outside of the wall suffered damage, but the point of impact is not even noticeable from within the chapel itself. In fact, the chapel is almost the only large room of the monastery that is still mostly intact. The Scriptorium’s roof has collapsed in, and all the smaller cells have cracks in the ceilings. Even the Abbot’s office is missing parts of its ceiling. The only major damage to the chapel itself is a large crack where the ceiling is beginning to separate from the wall above the sanctuary and looters have come through and taken most of the priceless artifacts from it.
Visiting the monastery, I loved every minute, poking into all the rooms, trying to guess what its purpose would have been, kitchen, refectory, observatory, bedroom “cell”, etc, discussing the history of monasticism, and taking pictures. Lots of pictures. As I sit back and reflect on my experience there, I can’t help but equate this monastery to an ancient story told by Loki, a member of the Sioux nation, of a flower in the desert:
“There was a young flower in the desert where all was dry and sad looking...It was growing by itself...enjoying every day...and saying to the sun "When shall I be grown up"? And the sun would say "Be patient"---Each time I touch you, you grow a little"...And she was so pleased. Because she would have a chance to bring beauty to this corner of sand...And this is all she wanted to do---bring a little bit of beauty to this world. One day the hunter came by---and stepped on her.---She was going to die---and she felt so sad. Not because she was dying ---but because she would not have a chance to bring a little bit of beauty to this corner of the desert. The Great Spirit saw her, and was listening.---Indeed, he said ...She should be living...And he reached down and touched her---and gave her life. And she grew up to be a beautiful flower...and this corner of the desert became so beautiful because of her.”Each week the chaplains offer tours of the monastery to those interested, as an opportunity for Soldiers to put a human face on Iraq, to help encourage respect for the Iraqi people as they see tangible evidence of the history and traditions of this country. Saint Elijah Monastery is that flower in the desert for each of these Soldiers, displaying the beauty of its history and tradition even from within its ruins. As we pass through the walls, we are able to envision the monks living there, listen to their stories whispered through the walls. We can walk away from our visit with a deeper appreciation for the beauty that has been poured out on this monastery and the surrounding countryside, and a hope for a brighter future in this war-torn country.
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