The message on the whiteboard inside the Mar Elia Chaldean Catholic
Church in Iraq's semi-autonomous Kurdish region bears a message for the
hundreds of Christian families driven from their homes by Islamic State
militants: "Be grateful. Be alive. Be happy. Be careful.”
But Christianity's central tenet of forgiveness is a hard sell for
children who, after living much of their lives in relative peace with
Muslim neighbors, find themselves homeless after their families fled
when Islamic State militants ordered them to convert or be killed. With
Iraq's Christian population dwindling, the daunting task of helping kids
cling to the faith of their parents falls to church elders, who have
taken in hundreds of families now living in a sprawling complex of
tents.
"It's hard to explain what is happening," Father Daniel Alkhory told
FoxNews.com in the predominantly Christian district of Ankawa inside the
Kurdish capital of Erbil. "I was teaching them the parable of Ishmael
and Lazarus, talking to them about Heaven and Hell, so I used that to
bring up ISIS. I asked them where ISIS will go and they said, 'Directly
to Hell!'"
Alkhory tells the story of a Christian in Mosul who had been living
next to a Muslim man for more than 20 years when the Muslim man one day
suddenly threatened him, ordering him to leave Mosul within 24 hours
simply because he was Christian.
"So the Christian man started to pack his things, but before leaving
he said he won't leave without saying goodbye to that neighbor," Alkhory
recounted. "His neighbor opened the door and was really angry and
shouting at him, 'Why are you here? I told you to leave Mosul!' The
Christian man said he wouldn't leave without first saying goodbye. His
Muslim neighbor started to cry and promised to protect him."
"I asked them where ISIS will go and they said, 'Directly to Hell!'"- Father Daniel Alkhory
In the enormous swath of Syrian and Iraqi land now controlled by
Islamic State, the homes and churches of Christians have been looted and
burned to the ground. Christians in Iraq once numbered around 1.5
million, or about 5 percent of the population. Current estimates hover
around 200,000, their numbers depleted by murder, forced conversions and
flight -- mostly at the hands of Islamic State radicals. Those who
remain refuse to renounce their beliefs, even under the threat of death.
One Christian man living at Mar Elia brandished a large tattoo of
Jesus' mother Mary on his arm. Like many others, his faith was
discovered by militants and he and his family were forced to flee to the
safety of the Kurdish region.
More than 100,000 Christians have fled the clutches of the terrorist
organization since its advance across the Nineveh Plains in Iraq, home
to some of the world's most ancient Christian communities. The Kurdish
region has taken in more than 1.5 million displaced people, including
Christians and other ethnic and religious minorities, since June – and
according to Alkhory, the word "displaced" is crucial terminology.
"Refugees is a bad word and refers to people that don't know each
other, but these people here are our family. They are displaced people.
We want to take the negative energy out with the words we use," he
explained. "And we never call it a camp. It's a center."
"The children are very traumatized. They've lost their hopes and
dreams and we try to help them understand that life keeps going,"
Alkhory said. "But a child is like a flower, we can shape them. We have
to take care of them now; otherwise the next generation of ISIS could
come from these children. Through all their sadness and depression, they
wanted revenge. I knew I needed to build a new environment for them."
That new environment consists of time spent on artistic endeavors
such as drawing images and creating shapes in an effort to express their
feelings and frustrations, as well as outings to play in the park and
dancing. The children recently saw their first-ever 3D movie: "Teenage
Mutant Ninja Turtles."
"They wore the glasses and were just so happy," Alkhory said.
The center even hosts its very own "Got Talent" and "The Voice"
competitions, modeled on the hit American versions, where children can
perform for friends and family and win prizes. Mass and Bible study each
make up critical components of every day.
The flashpoint of the crisis began for the team at Mar Elia at
midnight on Aug. 6, when Kurdish troops cautioned a local bishop in
Qarakosh that the Christians had to leave as ISIS was closing in. Church
leaders began knocking on doors urging families to immediately flee.
"Fifteen families stayed, as they didn't wake up. Sadly, we don't
have any contact with them anymore. At the beginning we did, they were
describing the horrors and said they couldn't even turn on a light as
ISIS would become suspicious," Alkhory noted.
With no realistic prospect of returning to their homes anytime soon,
the thousands of displaced families strewn across the Kurdish region
have no choice but to start their lives from scratch in unfamiliar
territory.
"Father, when can we go home? When can I see my friends?" one young
boy asks the soft-spoken Alkhory. The pastor tells the boy he should
make new friends at the center now, and maybe one day he will go home
and meet his old friends once again.
But “home” as it stands for some 700 families from Christian villages
is now a collection of tents donated by several different organizations
and placed on Church grounds. The tents are divided into halves for
each family, approximately four persons per half. Some organizations
have started donated caravans to families, although land shortage
remains problematic.
The children attend school from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. during the week,
with after-school activities running from 6 p.m. to 8 p.m. each night.
"I just keep telling the kids you have to forgive. Forgiveness will
lead us to so many paths. I don't want them to grow up and be after
revenge and be angry," Alkhory said. "We want to make a party for them
every day.
"We just want them to be happy and keep smiling," he added. "We just want the children to feel like they are at home."