The language of Christ awaits resurrection: Kim Ghattas reports from a remote corner of Syria where ancient Aramaic, made famous by Hollywood's The Passion of the Christ, is still spoken

Saturday, Mar 27, 2004

Khaled Ahmad Alloush and Mohammed Qassem Tawil are anxiously waiting to hear whether there will be a special screening of Mel Gibson's controversial film, The Passion of the Christ, in their isolated village of Jab'edine, perched in the hills north of Damascus.

The two farmers are among the few thousand people who will not need subtitles to understand the language spoken throughout the movie, Aramaic.

Mostly considered a dead language, Aramaic, which was once spoken all over the Middle East, is still alive in three Syrian villages, Jab'edine, Bakh'aa and Maaloula. Even young children play and tease each other in Aramaic.

"We were very happy when we heard about this movie, it will promote our language, we hope to be able to see it in our village," says Mr Alloush. "I really wonder what it sounds like when Americans speak the language of Christ."

In this village the language of Christ blends with the call to prayers from the mosques and Jesus is referred to as the prophet Issa.

"Prophet Issa, may peace be upon him, is one of our prophets as Muslims. He spoke Aramaic and so do we. We are proud of our history," says Mr Tawil. "There was a time when we were actually Christians in this village, but some centuries ago, everybody here converted to Islam."

Bakh'aa is also a Muslim village while nearby Maaloula is predominantly Christian, with two monasteries.

"I don't know if you can say that (the people of Maaloula did not convert because) they had more faith, maybe. During the Ottoman Empire, a lot of Christians became Muslims because of social pressures and economic pressures," says Father Toufic at Maaloula's St Sergius monastery.

"But this is the language of all the people who lived in this region before and after Christ, so Aramaic is not something special to Christians."

It is unclear why Aramaic survived in this particular region but the most common explanation is the villages' isolation, which preserved them from the spread of Arabic.

For the Christians of Maaloula, Aramaic has an added significance. Ten years ago, villagers celebrated Good Friday mass in Aramaic for the first time in centuries. Everything from the sermon to the hymns was translated.

This was made possible by one man, George Rizkallah, Maaloula's Aramaic expert. He has been working hard to promote the language and develop it beyond simple, everyday, Aramaic.

"Everybody speaks Aramaic at home here. I remember as a schoolboy, sometimes a new kid would join the school and he wouldn't know how to speak Arabic. But at school, we were not allowed to speak Aramaic. Aramaic was never taught in schools here," says Mr Rizkallah, one of the few people who knows how to write the Semitic language.

"Now the attitude is changing as people and the government realise the importance of protecting this heritage. Many of our young people migrate to the city and forget their Aramaic, so we have to work on keeping it alive."

One month ago, the authorities promised to build a language centre in the village. In the meantime, Mr Rizkallah is already fighting Aramaic illiteracy: three times a week he is joined by a dozen villagers who are learning how to write the language they speak.

By KIM GHATTAS

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