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CHRISTIAN JERUSALEM: FRANCISCAN FRIENDS
By David Smith
Jerusalem Post
Oct 26 2007
Chroniclers report that Francis of Assisi, a pilgrim to the Holy
Land in the 13th century, crossed enemy lines during the Crusades
to share the gospel with the Sultan of Egypt. Although the content
of the proceedings is shrouded in legend, historians say that
the sultan appreciated the message, as testified by the fact
that Francis was sent back safely to European territory. Father
Athanasius wanders Jerusalem's Old City inspecting housing in the
Christian Quarter. The small cross in the building on the right
indicates it's Franciscan-subsidized. Photo: David Smith Christian
Information Center director Father Athanasius says this event
exemplifies Franciscan ministry in the Holy Land. "In our order,
Francis always had a reputation of being a man of peace. He was just
that. Long before the notions of pacifism, he was a minister of peace
and reconciliation. It was natural that the mission here would flow
from that - that our approach would be different. For example, we've
always been unarmed." The Franciscan brother talks in soft, measured,
almost liturgical tones that seldom betray his Texan roots. "We had
some of the first schools in the Holy Land. Our schools were open to
non-Catholics as early as the 17th century. Also in the 17th century
we had a big pharmacy in Jerusalem. Anybody who needed healing would
be received by the Franciscan pharmacist. We're always open to people
in need." The Franciscan presence in the Holy Land dates to the 13th
century, but ceased in 1291 when Muslim armies ousted the crusaders
from Acre, their last stronghold. The Franciscans retreated to Cyprus
and looked for opportunities to return. Their hopes were partially
fulfilled in 1328, when the pope endorsed two Franciscans on their
annual tour of the Holy Land to review the status of the holy places.
Five years later a Franciscan brother received permission to care for
the Cenacle (Upper Room or site of the Last Supper) and conduct mass
at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Later that century their number
had increased to 20 friars. Franciscans in Israel currently number
almost 200 and are involved in ministries as diverse as education,
music, meditative retreats and services to migrant workers.
Interestingly, the largest Catholic population is non-indigenous.
Members of the 35,000-strong Filipino community, about 80 percent
of whom are women, work in Israel usually as caregivers for the
elderly or handicapped. Franciscan Father Angelo, a Philippine
native but currently an American citizen, serves this community
as a circuit priest. He arranges for rooms to be rented in various
parts of Israel (such as Netanya or Rehovot, where there is no fixed
Catholic population) in order to pursue his ministry. These workers
"are employed mostly by Israeli Jews who came from Europe before and
after World War II. The unique challenge of every Filipino caregiver is
to show by word and deed the true face of Christianity to the Jews who
have suffered at the hands of Christian Europeans throughout the ages,"
Father Angelo says. The demise of the Palestinian Christian community
has been well publicized. Jesus' birthplace, Bethlehem, is a good
example. During the 1960s Bethlehem boasted a Christian majority, but
now they represent only 15-20% of the population. "It's hard to find
a girl around here who'll marry you if you're planning on staying,"
says one young Catholic merchant. Two other young Christians say:
"We're going to look in Galilee for wives." The reasons offered for
the emigration tide vary. They include Muslim fundamentalism, the
security barrier, unemployment and the loss of tourism. Regardless,
the Franciscans hope to change the pattern by offering a variety of
programs including jobs, charitable projects and subsidized housing and
education. According to Father Amjad, serving at Bethlehem's Church
of the Nativity, "In 2003 we noticed how many people had left and
decided to start a job program. We renovated houses employing local
workers. It's a part-time job in which we pay them 40% of a regular
salary. We've repaired 130 houses so far and given employment to more
than 200 families." The government of Spain underwrites a program in
which medical bills are paid. "No one here can afford a big hospital
like Hadassah, but we pay those fees for them even if the illness is
very expensive...
leukemia, for example." Amjad adds that there are programs for
the elderly which pay for utilities (water, gas and electricity)
as well as scholarships for university students. The Franciscans
maintain hundreds of housing units in the Jerusalem area (including
Bethlehem and Ramallah). Joseph, who works at a Franciscan-run hostel
and lives in Catholic housing, insists: "Without the Franciscans
you wouldn't find any Christian Palestinians here. They would 100%
disappear." The Franciscans also support five Terra Sancta schools in
Israel and the West Bank, with a total enrollment of 5,000 children
in kindergarten through grade 12. Excluding the living expenses of
the friars and sisters who run the schools, they are subsidized with
$1.5 million annually, as tuition fees are often negligible. Musical
education is provided by Jerusalem's Magnificat Institute, which
offers lessons to about 200 students annually. Franciscan Father
Amando, who holds a master's degree in organ performance from an
Italian conservatory, directs the institute. Classes in voice, violin,
organ, flute, music composition and music theory are offered to dozens
of students yearly. There are also classes for children as young as
five. A casual tour through the Magnificat Institute reveals Haig Aram
Vosgueritchian, an Armenian Christian, practicing the organ. A student
at the institute for 10 years, he has been accepted for graduate study
at the Arrigo Pedrollo Conservatory in Italy. Further investigation
finds five-year-old Palestinian Ya'acub, who reads the note "A"
on sheet music, then plucks it (or something pretty close to "A,"
according to his teacher) on a violin. PERHAPS the smallest Catholic
population in Israel is the Hebrew-speaking community.
Numbering about 400, they meet in Jerusalem, Jaffa, Beersheba and
Haifa, employing a Hebrew liturgy that reflects Christianity's Jewish
roots. Hebrew-speaking Catholics have been meeting in Israel since
the 1950s, when a group in Jaffa, initiated by a Dominican monk,
requested (and received) permission from the Vatican to worship
in Hebrew - a noteworthy petition because until the Second Vatican
Ecumenical Council in the mid-1960s Catholics were required to use
the Latin liturgy. The community's origins were varied. Many were
Jews who converted to Catholicism outside Israel, while others
were members of mixed-faith families or were simply in Israel for
professional reasons. The common language of Hebrew motivated the
assembly. Catholics arrived in Israel and were drawn to others who
wanted to worship in Hebrew. Even today, when there are a variety of
linguistic options, many Catholics want to worship in Hebrew. About
60 people attend mass on Sunday nights at Jerusalem's Community of
St. James. "We're a small congregation, so contact with people is more
personal. You get more into the problems of the people and know their
needs. The sermons here are very personal," explains Father Apolinary,
the parish priest. Of the Israelis - a majority in the congregation -
the Franciscan insists, "These are people that live the reality of
Israel. They are Israeli citizens 100%. They serve in the army and
fulfill their responsibilities to the country. They endure all the
problems and also believe in Yeshua as Messiah." On a Sunday night
in September, congregants followed the Hebrew liturgy, taking time
for informal and spontaneous prayer requests. Members prayed for
government leaders as well as both the Israeli and Palestinian
peoples. In the simple sanctuary, devoid of statues and icons,
Apolinary exhorted congregants to pray for wisdom. "There are so
many things that will distract us; we want to ask wisdom from Him to
choose the most important things. Let us open our hearts to request
this most important gift." Apolinary, who does not wear a clerical
collar out of sensitivity to the Orthodox Jewish neighborhood where
the church is located, admitted in an interview: "There are tensions
here [between] ultra-Orthodox Jews, secular Israelis, Arabs. You feel
the tension. So certainly you need to keep the peace - the internal
peace of people. Everything's difficult, but everything is also
possible!" 'Just' a ladder As dozens of black-garbed priests from
every conceivable church contrive to manage a tenuous bureaucracy,
a lone 150-year-old wooden ladder outside the Church of the Holy
Sepulchre typifies the challenge. The ladder, leaning against a window
above the church's entrance, is attested to in documents dating back
to 1852, when the Status Quo - the arrangement by which individual
church as well as common areas are defined - determined window ledges
were common ground. As such, no denomination (Greek Orthodox, Roman
Catholic, Armenian, etc.) can enact any change without all churches
agreeing. An 1862 painting of the church proves the ladder's position
is unchanged. Father Athanasius represents Roman Catholic interests in
the dispute, as the Vatican has charged Franciscans with responsibility
for the holy places. "Sometimes I think I'd like to be involved in
weightier issues of peace and justice, but making sure the Sepulchre is
available to all pilgrims is a satisfying ministry," says Athanasius.
Occasionally disputes over which church possesses which area have
become impassioned, even violent, necessitating police action. The
Franciscan suggests these heated but rare events have given the
Status Quo a bad reputation. While walking around the Old City and
fielding questions on his cell phone regarding Status Quo minutiae,
he insists: "You wouldn't believe the number of issues people work
out on a daily basis." Athanasius estimates that about 95 percent of
potential conflicts are dealt with through existing arrangements. "It
proves that people can work things out, given enough time," the priest
encourages. "We have a thorough and very detailed set of understandings
about the rights in every area of the church, and most of the time
that is enough."
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress
By David Smith
Jerusalem Post
Oct 26 2007
Chroniclers report that Francis of Assisi, a pilgrim to the Holy
Land in the 13th century, crossed enemy lines during the Crusades
to share the gospel with the Sultan of Egypt. Although the content
of the proceedings is shrouded in legend, historians say that
the sultan appreciated the message, as testified by the fact
that Francis was sent back safely to European territory. Father
Athanasius wanders Jerusalem's Old City inspecting housing in the
Christian Quarter. The small cross in the building on the right
indicates it's Franciscan-subsidized. Photo: David Smith Christian
Information Center director Father Athanasius says this event
exemplifies Franciscan ministry in the Holy Land. "In our order,
Francis always had a reputation of being a man of peace. He was just
that. Long before the notions of pacifism, he was a minister of peace
and reconciliation. It was natural that the mission here would flow
from that - that our approach would be different. For example, we've
always been unarmed." The Franciscan brother talks in soft, measured,
almost liturgical tones that seldom betray his Texan roots. "We had
some of the first schools in the Holy Land. Our schools were open to
non-Catholics as early as the 17th century. Also in the 17th century
we had a big pharmacy in Jerusalem. Anybody who needed healing would
be received by the Franciscan pharmacist. We're always open to people
in need." The Franciscan presence in the Holy Land dates to the 13th
century, but ceased in 1291 when Muslim armies ousted the crusaders
from Acre, their last stronghold. The Franciscans retreated to Cyprus
and looked for opportunities to return. Their hopes were partially
fulfilled in 1328, when the pope endorsed two Franciscans on their
annual tour of the Holy Land to review the status of the holy places.
Five years later a Franciscan brother received permission to care for
the Cenacle (Upper Room or site of the Last Supper) and conduct mass
at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Later that century their number
had increased to 20 friars. Franciscans in Israel currently number
almost 200 and are involved in ministries as diverse as education,
music, meditative retreats and services to migrant workers.
Interestingly, the largest Catholic population is non-indigenous.
Members of the 35,000-strong Filipino community, about 80 percent
of whom are women, work in Israel usually as caregivers for the
elderly or handicapped. Franciscan Father Angelo, a Philippine
native but currently an American citizen, serves this community
as a circuit priest. He arranges for rooms to be rented in various
parts of Israel (such as Netanya or Rehovot, where there is no fixed
Catholic population) in order to pursue his ministry. These workers
"are employed mostly by Israeli Jews who came from Europe before and
after World War II. The unique challenge of every Filipino caregiver is
to show by word and deed the true face of Christianity to the Jews who
have suffered at the hands of Christian Europeans throughout the ages,"
Father Angelo says. The demise of the Palestinian Christian community
has been well publicized. Jesus' birthplace, Bethlehem, is a good
example. During the 1960s Bethlehem boasted a Christian majority, but
now they represent only 15-20% of the population. "It's hard to find
a girl around here who'll marry you if you're planning on staying,"
says one young Catholic merchant. Two other young Christians say:
"We're going to look in Galilee for wives." The reasons offered for
the emigration tide vary. They include Muslim fundamentalism, the
security barrier, unemployment and the loss of tourism. Regardless,
the Franciscans hope to change the pattern by offering a variety of
programs including jobs, charitable projects and subsidized housing and
education. According to Father Amjad, serving at Bethlehem's Church
of the Nativity, "In 2003 we noticed how many people had left and
decided to start a job program. We renovated houses employing local
workers. It's a part-time job in which we pay them 40% of a regular
salary. We've repaired 130 houses so far and given employment to more
than 200 families." The government of Spain underwrites a program in
which medical bills are paid. "No one here can afford a big hospital
like Hadassah, but we pay those fees for them even if the illness is
very expensive...
leukemia, for example." Amjad adds that there are programs for
the elderly which pay for utilities (water, gas and electricity)
as well as scholarships for university students. The Franciscans
maintain hundreds of housing units in the Jerusalem area (including
Bethlehem and Ramallah). Joseph, who works at a Franciscan-run hostel
and lives in Catholic housing, insists: "Without the Franciscans
you wouldn't find any Christian Palestinians here. They would 100%
disappear." The Franciscans also support five Terra Sancta schools in
Israel and the West Bank, with a total enrollment of 5,000 children
in kindergarten through grade 12. Excluding the living expenses of
the friars and sisters who run the schools, they are subsidized with
$1.5 million annually, as tuition fees are often negligible. Musical
education is provided by Jerusalem's Magnificat Institute, which
offers lessons to about 200 students annually. Franciscan Father
Amando, who holds a master's degree in organ performance from an
Italian conservatory, directs the institute. Classes in voice, violin,
organ, flute, music composition and music theory are offered to dozens
of students yearly. There are also classes for children as young as
five. A casual tour through the Magnificat Institute reveals Haig Aram
Vosgueritchian, an Armenian Christian, practicing the organ. A student
at the institute for 10 years, he has been accepted for graduate study
at the Arrigo Pedrollo Conservatory in Italy. Further investigation
finds five-year-old Palestinian Ya'acub, who reads the note "A"
on sheet music, then plucks it (or something pretty close to "A,"
according to his teacher) on a violin. PERHAPS the smallest Catholic
population in Israel is the Hebrew-speaking community.
Numbering about 400, they meet in Jerusalem, Jaffa, Beersheba and
Haifa, employing a Hebrew liturgy that reflects Christianity's Jewish
roots. Hebrew-speaking Catholics have been meeting in Israel since
the 1950s, when a group in Jaffa, initiated by a Dominican monk,
requested (and received) permission from the Vatican to worship
in Hebrew - a noteworthy petition because until the Second Vatican
Ecumenical Council in the mid-1960s Catholics were required to use
the Latin liturgy. The community's origins were varied. Many were
Jews who converted to Catholicism outside Israel, while others
were members of mixed-faith families or were simply in Israel for
professional reasons. The common language of Hebrew motivated the
assembly. Catholics arrived in Israel and were drawn to others who
wanted to worship in Hebrew. Even today, when there are a variety of
linguistic options, many Catholics want to worship in Hebrew. About
60 people attend mass on Sunday nights at Jerusalem's Community of
St. James. "We're a small congregation, so contact with people is more
personal. You get more into the problems of the people and know their
needs. The sermons here are very personal," explains Father Apolinary,
the parish priest. Of the Israelis - a majority in the congregation -
the Franciscan insists, "These are people that live the reality of
Israel. They are Israeli citizens 100%. They serve in the army and
fulfill their responsibilities to the country. They endure all the
problems and also believe in Yeshua as Messiah." On a Sunday night
in September, congregants followed the Hebrew liturgy, taking time
for informal and spontaneous prayer requests. Members prayed for
government leaders as well as both the Israeli and Palestinian
peoples. In the simple sanctuary, devoid of statues and icons,
Apolinary exhorted congregants to pray for wisdom. "There are so
many things that will distract us; we want to ask wisdom from Him to
choose the most important things. Let us open our hearts to request
this most important gift." Apolinary, who does not wear a clerical
collar out of sensitivity to the Orthodox Jewish neighborhood where
the church is located, admitted in an interview: "There are tensions
here [between] ultra-Orthodox Jews, secular Israelis, Arabs. You feel
the tension. So certainly you need to keep the peace - the internal
peace of people. Everything's difficult, but everything is also
possible!" 'Just' a ladder As dozens of black-garbed priests from
every conceivable church contrive to manage a tenuous bureaucracy,
a lone 150-year-old wooden ladder outside the Church of the Holy
Sepulchre typifies the challenge. The ladder, leaning against a window
above the church's entrance, is attested to in documents dating back
to 1852, when the Status Quo - the arrangement by which individual
church as well as common areas are defined - determined window ledges
were common ground. As such, no denomination (Greek Orthodox, Roman
Catholic, Armenian, etc.) can enact any change without all churches
agreeing. An 1862 painting of the church proves the ladder's position
is unchanged. Father Athanasius represents Roman Catholic interests in
the dispute, as the Vatican has charged Franciscans with responsibility
for the holy places. "Sometimes I think I'd like to be involved in
weightier issues of peace and justice, but making sure the Sepulchre is
available to all pilgrims is a satisfying ministry," says Athanasius.
Occasionally disputes over which church possesses which area have
become impassioned, even violent, necessitating police action. The
Franciscan suggests these heated but rare events have given the
Status Quo a bad reputation. While walking around the Old City and
fielding questions on his cell phone regarding Status Quo minutiae,
he insists: "You wouldn't believe the number of issues people work
out on a daily basis." Athanasius estimates that about 95 percent of
potential conflicts are dealt with through existing arrangements. "It
proves that people can work things out, given enough time," the priest
encourages. "We have a thorough and very detailed set of understandings
about the rights in every area of the church, and most of the time
that is enough."
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress