THE HOUSE OF ANANIAS

THE HOUSE OF ANANIAS


Yesterday we were slower than usual getting off our mark and, as a result, we had to change our plans as midday prayer-time was approaching and we would not have had time to visit the Tekkiye mosque. So, we went instead to Bab Sharki in the hope of finding the House of St. Ananias open. It was.

To reach the house of Ananias we went down a flight of twenty-three steps. Why did he live in an underground house, you may ask. Actually, two thousand years ago, it was not underground at all but at street level, and it is the accumulation of dust and debris of every kind over the centuries that has left it where it is now - down twenty-three steps. This is not surprising when we remember that the French archaeological expedition found the Roman arch of Bab al-Kanise several metres underground and raised it to the present street level at the end of the Christian stretch of Straight Street.

The house is now a crypt chapel made up of two rooms. The first is a domed structure made of unfaced stone. The small altar faces east and there is space for about six rows of pews. Ventilation is provided by two grilled openings in the roof. Facing the altar, to the right there is another smaller room which, according to tradition, is where Ananias sheltered St. Paul when he was being followed. This room has illustrations of the life of Paul from the incident when he held the coats of the Roman soldiers who stoned St. Stephen until his own demise in Rome. It also has a poster of all the Popes (a little bit out of date as it only goes up to Pope Paul VI) and a map of the Mediterranean which shows the various journeys which Paul made after his conversion. Interestingly, the chronology of the life of Paul recognises James (the Lesser) as the brother of Jesus, something which all oriental Christian churches have always done but which has tied the western branches of the church in knots as they insisted on saying (at least to the ordinary “five-eighths”) that Jesus was an only son! As the custodians of the place are the Franciscans, the official custodians of the Holy Places and therefore not likely to be suspect of subvertion, to find this piece of information on display was quite interesting.

The present structure is, of couse, not the original, dating from around 7A.D., but the site is recognised as being the site of Ananias’s home, and the most basic archaeological evidence certainly dates back to 1AD or thereabouts. The place was turned into a church and later probably desecrated by the Romans who turned it into a temple before adopting Christianity as the official religion of the Roman Empire. Then it became a church once more and was known as the Musallabah or Church of the Holy Cross. With the arrival of Islam, it was probably used by both the Islamic and Christian communities as a place of worship, the mihrab facing south and the altar facing east, just as occurred at the Basilica of St. John the Baptist before it was exchanged so that the Moslem ruler could build the Great Umayyad Mosque. The church was venerated by both Christians and Moslems and during the Turkish occupation the Turks kept oil lamps burning there day and night. In fact the other people visiting the church were all Moslems.

The story of Saul’s conversion is displayed before the altar in the crypt and, thanks to this display, I was able to correct a misconception I had earlier. I thought that the reference to “the street called straight” appeared in one of the Gospels but, in fact, it is in the Acts of the Apostles (9,1-26).

Ananias was probably acting as a Christian priest at the time of Saul’s conversion and in a vision Jesus told him to go out to Judas’s house in the “street called straight” where he would find Saul whom he should help regain his sight by placing his hands upon his eyes and convert him because he would be the one to take the new message to the non-Jewish peoples.

The atmosphere in the crypt is similar to that in many ancient buildings of small dimensions - welcoming and enveloping, so we sat there for a while before going upstairs. The little shop is tended by a Franciscan in a tee-shirt from Florida who was brash and nothing like what Franciscans should be in my book. The antidote to his offhand manner was the other Franciscan there, a smiling, agreable young man from Africa - also attired in jeans and a tee-shirt!


After that, we wandered along Straight Street and, as the door was open, we went into the Syrian Catholic church which stands on the left a few hundred metres down the road. I had been in there before and, in terms of architectural merit, it has little to offer. However, this time the sacristan came and took us around. He showed us a copy of the Gospels written in Aramaic and allowed us to take a photograph of it. Apparently in the Syrian Catholic Church the early part of the liturgy is said in Aramaic, the language spoken by Jesus himself, and then goes over to Arabic.

The interesting thing about the church is the meeting of eastern and western traditions. There are statues of Our Lady of Lourdes and St. Theresa of Lisieux standing side by side with two beautiful icon triptychs. The one on the right hand wall depicts the story of the first Christian martyrs in the oriental church. The sacristan told us the story. One day the prince of the ancient Kingdom of Assur, between Iraq and Iran, was out hunting and lost his way. When night fell he saw a light in the distance and rode towards it. When he reached the house, he found a Christian monk who gave him shelter for the night and, to while a way the time, told him about his God. When the young prince heard of the wonders he had worked, he asked the monk if his God would be able to cure his sister who suffered from an illness which made her whole body itch intolerably. The monk said he should bring his sister and they would pray asking God to help her.
The next day the young prince made his way home and told his father what he had seen. He then returned with his sister and the monk prayed with her and baptised her. The moment she was baptised, her skin became clean. The young prince was amazed and asked to be baptised also. When they returned home, they told their father what they had seen and the young princess showed him how her skin was now unblemished. However, the King was angry and said that what they had done would provoke the ire of his gods. The prince said his gods could have no power over this new wondrous God. The King then hatched a plot to avert the anger of his gods and save his kingdom. He sent his children back to the monk bearing gifts of thanks but, before he sent them away, he stationed his soldiers in a defile with orders to kill both his children when they passed by. They did, making the young prince and princess the first Christian martyrs in the region.

The other icon on the opposite wall depicts St. Ephraim, not the Ephraim of the Jewish tribes but an Egyptian Christian saint from around the sixth century who falls into the same mould as St. Francis of Assisi (strictly speaking that should be the other way around as St. Francis came on the scene later) in the sense that he was the son of a rich family but gave up his claim to earthly goods to live a life of poverty. The other panel depicts St. Moses, again not the biblical Moses, but an Ethiopian saint.

July 12 1998