The Mountain of Light
by Mike Oettle
TOWERING opposite
the Galilean hill village of Ibillin and overlooking Haifa is a small mountain
that appears on the maps as the Jabal el Ghoul – the Mountain of the Ogre. It
no longer has that name among the Palestinians of northern Israel, and the
change has been the work of Elias Chacour.
We met Abuna[1] Elias in the previous article and discovered how he brought God’s love to a community that was living in fear and distrust. This Melkite[2]
priest tells many stories of his life in his book We Belong to the Land, but the one which stands out, I think, is
the saga of the school.
Secondary education in Israel is in private hands: local
communities set up schools and then apply for State subsidies. Jewish Israelis
are well served by the system, but Palestinians often go without anything
beyond an elementary education. Unskilled and uneducated, they often marry
early and have large families, adding to the vast numbers of poor
Palestinians. Elias decided that what his community needed was its own high
school.
It grew out of his library, which he had thrown open to
the village. He had encouraged the children, especially, to read, and held an
annual Day of the Book when the child who had read the most books was rewarded.
How they vied to be that child! And the library grew – soon it was too big to
be in the tiny parish house, and willing hands joined to build a community
centre, and enlarge the parish house.
This was, in part, because of the nuns who were now
working in the parish. Elias had had the idea while driving a party from the
village through Nazareth on one of his regular outings to scenes of Jesus’
life, and thought what a good idea it would be to ask the Mother Superior of
the convent there for two nuns to help him in his work. Mother Josephat was
enthusiastic even though it was unheard of for nuns to leave the convent. The
Roman Catholic bishop was less so, and refused permission for two nuns to work
with the Melkites. Mother Josephat broke the news to Elias, saying that as she
could not disobey the bishop, she would send three! At first they would only
stay for the liturgy, but later started visiting and then came to stay. Elias
slept in his car and gave them the parish house, but the congregation got the
message and provided space for them all.
The three nuns, Sister Gislaine, Sister Nazarena and Mère
Macaire (a former Superior), grew to be a well-loved part of the community –
at first visiting only the Melkite community, but (despite themselves) also
the Orthodox and even the Muslim folk. With Elias they would make early-morning
wake-up calls on Sundays: “Salaam alekhum. Wake up. It is 8 o’clock. In one
hour we will celebrate the liturgy, and we want you and your family to join
us.”
But more important was the breakthrough the nuns made by
themselves. Their visiting around the parish had made them aware of a need
that Elias had already noticed, but without his prompting they came to him and
said they wanted to start a kindergarten.
From the tiny acorns of the kindergarten and the library
grew the Miriam Bawardy Community Centre at the foot of the Jabal el Ghoul. It
was named for a young woman (died aged 33) from Ibillin who had become a nun
and had helped found new Carmelite communities in several places in post-First
World War British Palestine and in India. (Elias’s father represented him when
the Pope beatified Miriam in Rome some years later.)
Now building permits are a problem for Palestinians. They
are refused permission to build homes, or to enlarge their existing homes, for
the most specious reasons, which leads to their living in ever more cramped
conditions. So Elias expected difficulties when he submitted his plans for the
Prophet Elias High School, named after the Old Testament’s Elijah, revered by
Christian, Jew and Muslim alike. Like Bantu Administration officials, the
Israelis trotted out half a dozen reasons (none true) for refusing the permit.
But Elias, convinced that the advancement of the
community took priority over red tape, went ahead with building. When his
bishop refused him financial help, he appealed to the Queen of the
Netherlands. Dutch donors added their contributions to those of the Palestinian
community. The Ibillin villagers themselves, led by Abuna Elias, did the
building, despite police harassment, and were joined by foreign volunteers.
The lack of a building permit led to a court hearing, and
after a five-month delay (during which the school was completed) Elias was told
he would never get a permit, and without it no services would be provided. But
the village provided water and allowed an electric cable to run up the hill.
The light shining on the hill at night gave Elias the inspiration for a new
name for it: Jabal el Ennuur – the Mountain of Light.
Elias eventually got his permit (by irregular means), but
could not get one for extensions. Despite this, the Prophet Elias High School
and the adjacent Peace Centre stand today on the Mountain of Light. The school,
amazingly, has a very high quota rating (95,5%) with the Israel Department of
Education.
In the next article I share with you Jesus’ words that motivate this energetic servant of Christ.
[1] “Abuna” is the usual form of address for a Palestinian Christian priest.
[2] The Melkite Church is also known as Greek Catholic. In full communion with the See of Rome, it takes its popular name (meaning “royalists” or “Emperor’s men”) from the Syriac word malk-, meaning “king” – the nickname goes back to a doctrinal controversy following the Council of Chalcedon of AD 451, in which one faction was supported by the Emperor in Constantinople.
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