IZRAA

IZRA’A

Once again we ventured into the Hauran, this time to visit Izra’a, a place we had seen on the signposts as we passed on the way to Bosra and Dara’a but where we had not yet had the chance to stop. The main attractions in Izra’a are two Byzantine churches, the Church of St. George and the Church of St. Elias. In the Byzantine period, this small town, now a languishing provincial backwater, was a bishopric.

After a rather unpromising start to our search when we turned back because the road looked as though it was going nowhere of any interest, we stopped and asked for directions, first at a fruit stall and later from passers-by, and finally we retraced our steps along the unpromising road and even further out through old basalt stone houses dating from the Roman period but which, with the passage of time, are gradually acquiring upper storeys made of cement blocks! Eventually the onion-shaped dome of the Church of St. George appeared against the skyline.

We parked the car and asked a couple of men, from their dress obviously Christians, who would have the key, but they told us that the church would be opened at ten o’clock, so, in the meantime I took the dog out for a walk along what, if it were not for the litter everywhere, could be a beautiful country lane down past the church and a cemetery. Shortly the priest appeared with his black soutane flapping in the breeze and beckoning us to come into the church.

The descriptions in the books were not wrong. This is a little gem. The Church of St. George, which dates from 515A.D., is the oldest continuously used church in Syria, and it is in a remarkably fine state of repair. This may be due to the fact that St. George (he of the dragon) is widely venerated throughout the Middle East so the faithful would be forthcoming with their alms, particularly as, according to tradition, the church marks the spot where St. George was buried. What they did with the dragon I don’t know!

The source of the veneration to St. George in the Middle East apparently stems from the fact that he is identified with an ancient fertility cult. St. George is equivalent to St. Elias (interestingly the other church in the village is dedicated to this saint) and Elijah of the Bible and Khidr of the Moslems, who, in turn, are linked to the popular fertility deity and the cults of Baal of ancient Syria. This form of popular religion has survived, penetrating all the monotheistic religions, undoubtedly due to the importance of fertility in a basic peasant miilieu.

The church was originally a Byzantine martyrium and, in architectural terms, the martyrium was the most original form in early Christian architecture because these buildings were put up specifically to mark a burial place or a particularly holy spot where some venerated person had undergone martyrdom, rather than just convenient places where the faithful could gather to share their religious activities. In the early days that purpose was served by private houses and later the old Roman public buildings, such as the basilicas, were adapted for the purpose.

The Church of St. George, or Mar Georgis as he is known in the Middle East, is an example of one of the styles which developed, the octagon within a square. From the outside the building is a square with an extension forming an apse. From the inside, the shape is octagonal, the octagon being formed by using semi-circular chapels to cut off the corners of the square. The octagon then gradually transforms into a circular shape to allow for the cupola above which is more modern and probably replaces a previous wooden one. The aisle which goes all around the church is roofed with long rectangular basalt stones which fit neatly together. The stone walls were probably once covered with painted plaster and, although that has virtually disappeared over the last 1500 years or so, the impact of the church is still great. Sitting in it gave me the same feeling I get in the small Romanesque churches of northern Spain. There is something intimate about these small, all-embracing buildings. As the Church of St. George belongs to the Greek Orthodox community, there is an iconostasis at the eastern end. The icons on the iconostasis wall are very old. Although it is forbidden to go beyond this point, we managed to peer through at the collection of icons behind, which seemed to vary in age and artistic merit.


The priest led us straight away to his visitors’ book where we were asked to sign and put the date. For some reason which I was unable to fathom, he also wanted us to put the make and registration number of the car! As I couldn’t remember what they were, he rushed out himself to verify this vital piece of information which he hastened to record in the tome sitting on a table beside plans of the church drawn up by an architect/archeologist. When Robert gave him a contribution for the upkeep of the church, he was most disappointed that the cash was in Syrian pounds and not US dollars which, he said, were much better.

As the priest could only speak Arabic, this was an ideal opportunity for me to practise my six words, so I asked him about the community and his own studies. I managed to glean that the community in Izra’a is divided half and half between Christians and Moslems. There are about 1,700 Christians who, in turn, are divided between the Greek Orthodox and Catholic denominations. He studied for the priesthood at the college in Suweida, the provincial capital which we visited a few weeks ago.

Having taken a few photos of the church from the outside (we thought we had better not ask to take any inside) to record the metal covered dome and the horrendous modern concrete bell-tower which now disfigures the ancient building, we then walked up the road about 200 metres to the Church of St. Elias which is the domain of the Greek Catholics. This church, which was built in 542 A.D., was another martyrium, but this one was built on the cross-shaped plan which was to gain increasing popularity as a religious architectural form. However, the building has been extensively rebuilt and, as it was closed, we could not get a view of the interior. Outside the main door there is a walled yard with a metal gate which was padlocked. The original wooden dome has also been replaced by a modern one and the fashion for concrete bell-towers makes itself apparent here too. Why is it that bad taste is virtually universal?

Both churches are surrounded by the homes of the Christian community which are mostly old Roman houses made of basalt stone now being adapted - in the most vandalistic fashion - to the requirements of modern living, cement blocks and satellite dishes included. The crystalline voice of a young girl singing floated on the air. This was quite striking in a country where singing is almost never heard.

On the return journey, we opted not to take the main road but to follow some of the byways through the countryside of the Hauran which, despite the harshness of the climate, is remarkably beautiful. As we rounded a bend, we came upon a long, low building with at least a hundred women standing or sitting outside. As this is Druze country, they were all wearing long black dresses and white veils, although they do not cover their faces, only their heads. I got out of the car to ask what the gathering was about but I did not understand the reply, “ajaar”. A little further down the road, there was a great confusion of cars, mini-buses, buses and tractors full of Druze men who were coming out of an even larger round, roofless enclosure. The black oriental trousers and black jackets worn by the Druze men with their-well fashioned moustaches and white fez-like hats with a red top make a great spectacle, because they create a very elegant and venerable impression and the Druze, both men and women, are always impeccably groomed. We later discovered that “ajaar” means a funeral and Esma’a, one of the secretaries at the office who is herself a Druze, explained that, as the houses are usually too small for large gatherings such as weddings and funerals, two places are taken for such events, one for the women and another for the men so that the community can communicate their condolences to the bereaved family.

The next encounter was with a tortoise which was crossing the road. As it would not have stood a chance against the minibuses hurtling along after the funeral, we stopped the car and lifted her (Was it a her?) across to the other side of the road where she was headed. As he lifted her, Robert saw that the poor thing was covered with ticks on her feet and legs and neck (This is the tick season). Although she drew herself into her shell, he did his best to rid her of the all the ticks he could get a hold of before freeing her once again. Amazingly, there were even ticks on the underside of her shell and, when they were removed, blood came out through the shell!

May 29th 1998