Refugee Iraqi Christians pray for stranded brethren
Advance of Islamic State radicals could spell end of Christian presence in northern Iraq
Iraqi Christians celebrate the Feast of the Assumption at Notre Dame de Chaldée in Paris yesterday. Photograph: Lara Marlowe
Wadih (75) was wounded in the 2010 attack in which 58 people were killed at Our Lady of Salvation in Baghdad. He is now a deacon at an Iraqi church in Paris. Photograph: Lara Marlowe
Some 100 Iraqi Christians gathered yesterday at Notre Dame de Chaldée in northeast Paris to celebrate the Feast of the Assumption. With 100,000 of their kinsmen on the run from the Islamic State in northern Iraq, they were a sombre congregation.
“Today is the feast of the Virgin,” said Msgr Petrus Yousif. “The Virgin is watching from heaven. We beg her to protect our brothers in Iraq.
“Let us pray especially for the women and girls, who are in a perilous situation,” Msgr Yousif continues, alluding to reports that the extremists have committed rape and sold female slaves.
The church embodies the complex identity of eastern Christians, on the faultline between east and west.
It is in a modern building with plain tile floors and beige walls. Yet among the Arab faces, flowers, bells and incense, one feels transported to Baghdad or Mosul, or to ancient, apostolic times. The Creed and Our Father, like most of the service, are in Arabic. Part of the liturgy is in Chaldean, derived from the Aramaic language spoken by Christ.
Fears for relatives
Smoke billows from the censer swung by Wadih (75), a deacon. Like most Iraqi refugees, he does not want his family name published because he fears for relatives still in Iraq.
Wadih made the same gestures as deacon at Our Lady of Salvation in Baghdad, on the terrible evening of October 31st, 2010. Gunmen dispatched by Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi – the leader of the Islamic State, which has seized Christian areas of northern Iraq – burst into the church, shooting and throwing grenades. They held around 100 parishoners hostage, killing 58 and wounding nearly 80.
Wadih and dozens of other worshippers barricaded themselves in the sacristy. “For 4½ hours, we listened to the screams of women and children” he recalls.
The gunmen couldn’t enter the sacristy, so they threw grenades through a stained glass window, killing four. Glass shards embedded in Wadih’s shoulder. The French government brought him and other wounded Christians to France for surgery, then granted them asylum.
Wadih’s son Ameel was shot through the back. The bullet lodged in his guts. “He lay on the floor, bleeding. They had to transfuse seven bottles of blood and serum into him, and cut 35cm from his intestines,” Wadih recalls.
The face of the only gunman he saw, a youth of perhaps 17, is etched in Wadih’s mind. They are thought to have numbered between six and 15. The attack marked the transition from al Qaeda in Iraq to the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant.