Christmas far from home

“Home for the holidays”: these are sweet words for those who can celebrate with their families, bittersweet for those far from home or homeland, separated from the ones they love. In Schuylkill County, some families have members serving in the US Armed Forces in places as far away as Iraq or Afghanistan. During this holiday season, their sons, daughters or spouses must be wishing for “home sweet home.”

Here in France, in the Paris region, there is a large Christian community celebrating Christmas far from home, longing for the country of their ancestors and for the churches where they celebrated mass in Aramaic, the language Jesus most likely spoke. They are the Christians of Iraq and there are about sixty thousand living in and around Paris.

Two of them, German Odeesho Banyameen and Stevani Odesho, are my students and they kindly took the time to tell me how they are celebrating Christmas this year. But, to begin, they told me something about themselves.

German and Stevani, who also happen to be cousins, arrived in France in 2008. The two previous years had been difficult for all Iraqis, but this was also a time when attacks on Christians were on the rise. Young Christian women were being kidnapped for ransom; terrorist bombs were exploding near schools and in busy shopping districts. German remembers the day all the windows shattered in her classroom when a bomb went off nearby.

Reluctantly, for reasons of security, both families decided to emigrate. They did not want to leave their country or their city, Baghdad, where they lived peaceably with their Muslim neighbors. But threats to the Christian community were increasing and, to protect her from danger, Stevani’s family had already sent their daughter to the family village in northern Iraq. The next step was for each family to leave the country for Damascus, Syria, where, as political refugees, they waited for an opportunity to immigrate to a country in the West.

In 2008, France opened its doors to Iraqi Christians. Without knowing a word of French, knowing little about the country, the two families settled in the Paris region. Today, German and Stevani, who now speak French well, are preparing a degree in English at the University of Paris 8. At home they speak Aramaic. While in Iraq, they went to public school, where all teaching was in Arabic.

Both young women and their families are members of the Assyrian Church of the East, one of the two main churches of Iraq, whose seat today is in Chicago, Illinois. This is an independent church, whereas the Chaldean Church of Iraq is affiliated with Rome. The two churches, whose history begins in the first years of the Christian era, were once one, but they separated in the 16th century. Only since 2001 do members of the two churches officially celebrate Holy Communion together.

Recently, I joined with Assyrian and Chaldean Christians to celebrate mass at Notre Dame de Chaldée, presided by Father Petrus Yousif, rector of the Chaldean Mission in France. In a modern chapel in northern Paris, Father Yousif celebrates mass in Aramaic, Arabic and French, in an effort to include everyone. The mass itself follows an order that would be familiar to Catholics the world over, but there are also prayers and blessings particular to the Chaldean Church.

While waiting for mass to begin, I listened to the young choir practicing, singing melodies that had an “eastern flavor” to my ear. During mass, readers chant passages from the Bible and prayers are sung by choir and congregation. Listening to these beautiful chants, often in a minor key, I was filled with a sense of another place and time, of music resonating with strong faith kept alive across the centuries.

As soon as mass is over, everyone heads downstairs for tea. As 2014 draws to a close, a new flow of Christian refugees, victims of the violence of ISIS, is arriving in France. These Iraqi Christians from Kurdistan, where their community has been present for thousands of years, have turned to the Chaldean Mission for help, and some are present at mass. For these new refugees, this is their first Christmas far from home and I hope they are able to celebrate in the traditional way.

For German and Stevani, this means a special Christmas breakfast of kadeh and kolache, served with hot tea and milk. Kadeh, sweetened raised bread, is a specialty of the Assyrian community whereas kolache are filled pastries common to many Middle Eastern countries and considered the “national cookie” of Iraq. In the Odeesho family, the pastries are filled with dates, walnuts or coconut. Family members may also eat eggs and cheese, breakfast staples in Iraq.

Once breakfast is over, it’s almost time to move on to Christmas dinner, where a variety of dishes make up the traditional fare. There may be a choice between harissa, an Assyrian “chicken porridge,” a thick soup in a yogurt base, containing chicken, saffron and finely ground wheat, or pacha, a soup made of boiled lamb’s feet and tongue, considered a great delicacy.

To accompany the soups, the table is covered with side dishes, some common to the Middle East, others Indian in origin. There are stuffed grape and cabbage leaves and many of the appetizers the Lebanese call mezze, as well as kubba, ground meat cooked in bulgur wheat. Rice mixed with meat, vegetables and spices is called biryani, as in India, and chicken curry is another favorite dish.

Throughout the meal Iraqi Christians drink wine—they consider it good for the digestion. For dessert, there will be more kolache, Iraqi “cookies,” served with tea.

Then Christmas day is over, but Santa Claus has yet not arrived. Don’t worry, he will. In Iraqi Christian homes, he comes the night of December 31st, hiding gifts under children’s beds instead of under the Christmas tree. He also visits Muslim homes in Iraq and in neighboring Iran, where Muslims too like to decorate a Christmas tree.

German and Stevani are looking forward to the holidays but, they both admit, they miss Christmas “back home,” a feeling anyone far from home or country on Christmas can understand. They will, however, do their best to keep their traditions alive and they wish you all “Aethokh Breekhta,” which means “Blessèd Holidays” in Aramaic, one of the most ancient languages of the world.