By Al Monitor
Judit Neurink
“The Iraqi government was against everything Jewish after the Jews left in the ’50s,” said Father Araam, a young Chaldean priest serving in the predominantly Christian town of al-Qosh, in northern Iraq. That, he explained, was why it has been indifferent to the fate of the sole remaining synagogue in Iraq, here in al-Qosh. “That’s why it almost collapsed.”
Judit Neurink
“The Iraqi government was against everything Jewish after the Jews left in the ’50s,” said Father Araam, a young Chaldean priest serving in the predominantly Christian town of al-Qosh, in northern Iraq. That, he explained, was why it has been indifferent to the fate of the sole remaining synagogue in Iraq, here in al-Qosh. “That’s why it almost collapsed.”
Al-Qosh, on the Ninevah Plains, is home to several historic
monasteries and churches as well as the synagogue, which houses the tomb
of Nahum, the prophet who in 615 B.C. correctly predicted the downfall
of the Assyrian kingdom. While the town’s churches have been well
maintained due to the efforts of the Christian community, the synagogue —
despite Nahum being regarded as a prophet by the three major
monotheistic religions — was allowed to crumble after the last Jews left
town for Israel in 1951.
The good news is that after years of aborted attempts to save the
building, a US organization — ARCH, the Alliance for the Restoration of
Cultural Heritage — was finally able to send a team of engineers to
secure the building in January before it fully collapsed. Some of the
walls and part of the roof had already collapsed, and columns with
Hebrew inscriptions are barely standing, endangering the tomb, which
lies beneath a green covering.
Father Araam gratefully points out that the engineers’ scaffolding,
ropes and support beams are now holding the remains together. “Our
history is built from different civilizations, and all of it is equally
important,” he remarked. “We should care for it all.”
Iraq has a troublesome relationship with parts of its heritage.
Iraq’s longtime ruler Saddam Hussein having his name carved into the
stone used for restoring the archaeological site of Babel is an infamous
example. It’s heritage was being looted and destroyed long before the
arrival of the Islamic State (IS), which set about destroying everything
lacking connection to its radical brand of Islam. What it didn’t
destroy, it looted and sold, including some of the most valuable
artifacts from Iraq’s ancestry. They were stopped only miles from
al-Qosh and its wealth of heritage.
When Iraq became too dangerous for archaeologists to continue their
work after 2003, locals often looted the sites they were forced to
abandon. Iraqi military intelligence announced last February that it had
thwarted a major smuggling operation to whisk artifacts out of the
country. Boston-based archaeologist Allison Cuneo, who has been working
at sites in Iraqi Kurdistan since 2012, said that the looting has
steadily increased, in particular during the economic crisis of recent
years.
“At the same time, staffing was cut, especially among the guards,”
Cuneo told Al-Monitor. “The way the authorities in Iraq connect
archaeology to tourism gives the wrong message. It makes it look as
though it’s only about the money.”
Meanwhile visitors have taken “souvenirs” with them from Nahum’s
tomb, as the locals refer to the synagogue. A stone table with Hebrew
inscriptions has been retrieved, but sections of the iron fence
surrounding the tomb have not been, said Adam Tiffen, deputy director of
ARCH.
“We had to work fast, as we were informed last year that, because of
the deterioration in the structure, we had less than a year before the
rest of the building collapsed,” Tiffen told Al-Monitor. For ARCH, it
was important to save the temple, so it found funding and seized the
opportunity to stabilize the building.
“This is the last remaining prophet’s tomb in Mesopotamia. The
others, the tombs of Jonah and George, were destroyed by IS. If IS had
reached here, it would have been a catastrophe. This is a unifying
symbol for the history of the region. In a place just miles from former
IS territory, it is a symbol of hope,” Tiffen added.
Tiffen explained that the shrine represents a shared symbol of the
three monotheistic religions, whose adherents have traditionally lived
together in this part of Ninevah province. He said, “For us, this was an
important site to protect and preserve, both for future generations and
because it is one of the few remaining commonalities between Judaism,
Islam and Christianity. It symbolizes what the region could be in terms
of coexistence in a part of the world where this is lacking right now.”
That is what a local man named Shmoon recounted while sitting with
friends in the front yard of his house in al-Qosh. “Jewish people would
come and pray and celebrate at the Nahum tomb,” the 93-year-old
recalled. “Nahum spoke with the Lord. He is a prophet.”
Sabah, a young 76, also remembers how Jewish families would stay with
locals, including his own family, during the pilgrimages to the temple.
“I would sneak to the shrine and see them praying, moving their bodies
like we see on TV now.”
After the Jews left Iraq, the yearly visitors stopped coming. Sabah
said he is sad to see the shrine in its current state. His friend Shmoon
added, “The decline started after the Jews left, and it started to fall
down in the ’60s.”
The men declared themselves relieved that something is finally being
done, a sentiment also held by some of al-Qosh’s young residents. Nafla,
26, said she has often gone to the shrine “to pray, because it is a
temple.” Dyar, 31, has also been inside many times. “I wanted to know
how it was before,” he said. “It’s our history, our Nahum.”
Father Araam agrees. “Nahum is our prophet too,” he said. “The church
is responsible for all the shrines here in al-Qosh now.” That’s why the
Chaldean Church put a roof over the temple a couple of years ago to
stop the winter rains from causing further damage. “It tries to protect
it as a mother would,” said the priest.
Yet, as Tiffen pointed out, the work that is currently underway is
only the first stage of what is needed to keep the shrine safe for
future generations. “Our engineers focused on the immediate challenges
and have stabilized the site for at least the next three years,” he
said. “[That] gives us time to decide what needs to be done next, and to
find the money to do it.”