21 November 2014
A little boy and his family in Gaza live with the aftermath of last summer’s war. A story in the Autumn edition of ONE explores the impact of that war on the children, with scars that are often invisible. (photo: Shareef Sarhan)
20 November 2014
A boy looks through a hole in a tent at Syria’s Bab Al-Salam camp for displaced in Azaz, near the Turkish border, on 19 November. To help Syrian refugees fleeing war, visit this giving page.
(photo: CNS/Hosam Katan, Reuters)
19 November 2014
The virtual print edition of ONE looks exactly the same as the paper edition, but with some additional features. (photo: CNEWA)
Last year, we unveiled a new look for CNEWA’s magazine, ONE — and a new way to read it.
If you haven’t discovered it yet, check out the Autumn edition, which we posted online last week. It offers readers everything you can find in the print edition, but with a notable exception: no paper.
But that’s just the beginning.
Visit this link and you’ll find all 40 pages of the magazine reproduced exactly as they appear in the edition you receive in your mailbox, right down to the pages you can turn. But there are also added features in this version: you can enlarge the page for easy reading, and you can click on links that will take you to blog posts and video.
We think you’ll find it’s an exciting new way to experience the award-winning journalism and powerful photography that have made ONE among the most honored and admired magazines in the Catholic press. Check it out.
Meantime, for a preview of this newest edition of the magazine, click on the video below.
It’s all part of our ongoing effort to keep you closely connected to the world we serve — and the people your generosity helps us reach. We think these enhancements also make ONE, in so many ways, one of a kind. Thank you for your readership and your support!
18 November 2014
Ultra-Orthodox Jewish women stand near the scene of an attack at a Jerusalem synagogue on 18 November. Two Palestinians are said to have killed four people with a meat cleaver and a knife in a Jerusalem synagogue on 18 November before being shot dead by police, the deadliest such incident in six years in the holy city. (photo: CNS/Finbarr O'Reilly, Reuters)
17 November 2014
Refugee children gather in a shelter for displaced Iraqis in northern Iraq. CNEWA staff members recently visited the region to assess the needs of refugees. To learn how you can help, please visit this giving page. (photo: Ra’ed Bahou)
14 November 2014
Tags: Iraq Refugees CNEWA Children Iraqi Refugees
A Syrian refugee and her daughter walk to their makeshift home in Bechouat, Lebanon. The plight of Syrian refugees is the focus of the work of Sister Wardeh Kayrouz, who is profiled in the Autumn edition of ONE. Read the remarkable story of Sister Wardeh’s World.
(photo: Tamara Abdul Hadi)
13 November 2014
Nesma al Haddad plays with her brother and friends in in her room in Gaza City. She could not sleep there during the war. (photo: Shareef Sarhan)
What is it like to be a child during wartime? The Autumn edition of ONE answers that question by visiting some children in Gaza:
Twelve-year-old Nesma al Haddad spent the summer in the safest part of her apartment building: the living area on the ground floor of a 12-story building. The main entrance was just a few steps away, and there were few windows. Her room upstairs, with her bed and her assortment of beautiful collectibles, went unoccupied.
With Israel and Hamas at war in Gaza, Nesma tried to carry on with her normal life, hiding her anxiety from her five siblings, despite the sounds of explosions and gunfire during the bombardment of the surrounding neighborhood.
More than once, Nesma and her family were forced to flee to a neighbor’s house; an apartment on the eighth floor was a target. She would leave behind her belongings, except for a suitcase, packed in advance with her favorite clothes and a toy.
“I did not fear anything,” Nesma says. “I worried about losing my favorite toy that I had bought during the last war, in 2012. But I was more worried about losing one of my family members.”
Hers is an all too common story in Gaza these days, and it reveals the invisible scars borne by so many children of war. When talking with these children, and hearing their experiences, one learns how deeply they have been affected by the violence around them — trauma that will take years to heal fully.
Read more about Nesma and other children of war in Shell-Shocked: Growing Up in Gaza in the Autumn edition of ONE.
12 November 2014
Christians gather for Evening Prayer outside St. Joseph’s Church in Erbil.(photo: Don Duncan)
The Autumn edition of ONE is online, and focuses a spotlight on The Middle East-most notably, with a dramatic look at life among refugees in Erbil, Iraq:
On talking to many Christian families and individuals who have taken refuge in cities across Iraqi Kurdistan, the master narrative is the same: ISIS, the jihadist Islamic terrorist movement seeking to create a caliphate in Iraq and Syria, had made rapid advances across large swaths of Iraq, and by early August, seized the Nineveh Plain in northern Iraq — a historic Christian stronghold.
The sixth day of August promises to be a date that will be seared into the Iraqi Christian psyche for quite some time: That is the day Iraqi Christendom finally — and maybe definitively — succumbed to extremists and much of the population was sent fleeing.
The exodus was rapid and frantic, beginning in the evening of 6 August. Families recount how they had 15 minutes to half an hour to grab what they could and leave, ahead of the rapid arrival of ISIS. The roads were choked with families in cars and on foot — Chaldean and Syriac Catholics, Copts and Armenians, but also Yazidis and Shiite Muslims from all over Nineveh — all fleeing the particular brand of ISIS fundamentalism. They headed east, to Iraqi Kurdistan and the protection of the Kurdish Peshmerga forces there. By the next morning, the heartland of Christian Iraq was firmly in the hands of ISIS.
“My father sold his own mother’s gold and took a loan from the government so he could build our house, and then everything was gone in 15 minutes,” says Wissam Abdul Hadi. “He worked for years and lost everything in a few minutes.”
The sense of loss and the incomprehension of the sudden, new reality are common to many of the displaced families. Beyond the shared narrative of expulsion, the personal stories issuing from the camps, church grounds and repurposed schools and social centers housing displaced Christians are varied and many.
...At a distance of 46 miles, Erbil is the nearest Kurdish city to Qaraqosh and, therefore, received the largest number of displaced people, currently estimated at more than 60,000. Most of them descended on the Christian neighborhood of Ain Kawa over the span of just a couple of days. Because of the overpopulation, living conditions for displaced Christians are the worst in Erbil.
Any and all resources were tapped so as to offer the displaced shelter and food. The Dominican Sisters of St. Catherine of Siena, the Ephremite and Franciscan sisters, the Little Sisters of Jesus as well as Chaldean and Syriac priests and bishops were all mobilized. For the first week, many people were sleeping in churchyards without shelter, using each other’s stomachs as pillows. They complained of the scourge of ants at night and of the strong, beating sun during the day.
Read more about the Christian Exodus in the Autumn edition of ONE.
The need in Iraq remains great. Please visit this giving page to learn how you can help.
10 November 2014
It is no secret: This has been a time of tremendous turmoil for so many in the Middle East.
War this summer in Gaza left thousands dead, an overwhelming majority of them civilians. At the same time, violence exploded in Iraq, as radical Islamic jihadists — from their base in Syria — began their assault of Iraq, targeting Christians and other minorities. Hundreds of thousands of people found themselves literally running for their lives, fleeing to mountain refuges, or to Erbil, Baghdad, Amman and Beirut.
The autumn edition of the magazine brings vividly to life the hardship and the hope of so many who live in the land where Christianity first began.
You’ll meet the men, women and children, priests, sisters and care providers, people whose lives have been turned upside down, and yet still hope even as they cope with a new reality most would call a nightmare. You’ll see how the generosity of good people like you has been deployed; how through CNEWA, aid is reaching those most in need, and making a difference.
Let us know what you think! And spread the word!
7 November 2014
In this image from 2006, Father Adel Madanat celebrates a Sunday Divine Liturgy at the Greek Orthodox church in Ader, Jordan. (photo: Miriam Sushman)
Several years ago, we profiled the lives of Jordanian Christians, people with a rich and varied history:
Although most locals picture Jordanian Christians as exclusively wealthy urbanites, Christians, who count up to 6 percent of Jordan’s 5.9 million residents, live throughout this kingdom’s cities, towns and villages. A diverse mix of communities in a country sandwiched between Israel/Palestine and Iraq, they play an integral part in the kingdom’s public and economic life.
“Christianity was born in our region and it is not confined to Western culture,” Jordan’s Prince Hassan bin Talal said on the occasion of the publication of the French edition of his book, ‘Christianity in the Arab World.’
“Our Christian brothers’ defense of Arab values and the causes of the Arab world in all international fora is a truthful expression of their affiliation to their Arab patrimony.”
Only a few elderly women and young girls attended Mass on a recent Friday at St. Joseph Latin (Roman Catholic) Church in Ader, one of a cluster of villages in the Jordanian Christian heartland near the town of Kerak. Father Basheer, pastor of St. Joseph’s, explained that most of his congregation had gone to the nearby Orthodox parish to attend a funeral liturgy.
“Here, human relations and blood ties are very strong,” Father Basheer said. “Villagers are all relatives.”
Ader is an oasis of golden wheat fields in the middle of Jordan’s rocky southern desert. Herds of goats and sheep dot the gently rolling landscape. Of the village’s 4,500 inhabitants, Christians number one third of the population. Only when pressed do they identify themselves in Arabic as either “Lateen” (Latin), “Katulik” (Greek Catholic) or “Ruum” (Orthodox). Ader’s Christian community is a close one; differences between Catholicism and Orthodoxy are secondary to family.
Most Christian villagers belong to Arab Christian tribes who gave up their semi-nomadic way of life in the late 19th century, settling with their herds near Kerak. According to tribal custom, these Bedouin Christians were among the first peoples to embrace Christianity after Jesus’ ascension.
To learn more, read Jordanian Christians from the September 2006 edition of ONE.