ISIS’s reign of terror in the Levant left deep wounds, particularly on historic Christian heritage. The destruction of churches in Iraq, some of which had stood for centuries, symbolizes a broader assault on cultural and religious identity. Recently, two of these sites—Mar Toma, a Syriac Orthodox church dating back to the seventh century, and the Chaldean Catholic Church of Al-Tahira—were rebuilt and reopened on October 15. The news signifies a small, yet remarkable step toward revival amid the shadows cast by violence.
Patriarch Louis Raphaël Sako of Iraq’s Chaldean Church remarked on their importance, stating, “These churches are our roots, our history. We need to keep them alive.” His words resonate deeply, highlighting the spiritual and cultural significance these structures hold for their communities. The reopening isn’t just about restoring buildings; it’s a recommitment to faith and heritage.
During the height of their campaign, ISIS used Mar Toma as a prison and inflicted heavy damage on the historically significant Door of the Twelve Apostles, an exquisite piece carved from marble in the 13th century. The thorough destruction of such sites prompts reflection on the profound loss experienced by the local Christian community—a loss that transcends mere architecture.
Archbishop Najeeb Michael Moussa, the Chaldean bishop of Mosul, encapsulated this sentiment well during the reopening ceremony. “These churches are not just stones. They are the memory of faith, history, and community.” His statement emphasizes that religious sites serve as more than mere bricks and mortar; they represent the spirit and continuity of a community that has weathered unimaginable hardship.
After the dust of war settled, reconstruction proved a formidable challenge. According to Zenit, teams had to clear away remnants of destruction, including mines and explosives left by ISIS. This painstaking effort reflects not only the physical rebuilding but also the monumental task of restoring a fractured identity. The work done to restore the Door of the Twelve Apostles and repair the geometric vaults of Al-Tahira demonstrates determination in reclaiming spaces that are not solely for worship but also for communal resilience.
Yet, the situation in Mosul still paints a sobering picture. Once thriving with a vibrant Christian presence, the city now holds only 60 Christian families in a population of nearly two million. The overall Christian demographic in Iraq has dwindled to a mere 0.4 percent, according to Open Doors. The catastrophic decline results from ongoing discrimination and violence against Christian communities from both militant groups and local government authorities. The ministry notes that many Christians in central and southern Iraq feel compelled to hide their faith, avoiding openly displaying religious symbols due to the constant threat of harassment.
This reality emphasizes the wider implications of ISIS’s violence—an erosion of not just physical structures but the very essence of a culture and faith community. Despite the hopeful reopening of these churches, the journey toward safety and acceptance remains fraught with challenges. The fate of Christianity in Iraq hangs in a delicate balance, bearing witness to a history that is continuously rewritten through the lens of conflict.
In this light, the reopening of Mar Toma and Al-Tahira is not merely a celebration but a poignant reminder of the resilience required to preserve faith amid adversity. It reinforces the belief that, even in the darkest times, hope and renewal are possible. As these churches stand reborn, they carry as much the weight of historical significance as they do the hope for a future where faith can be freely practiced and celebrated.
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