Rev. Jerry Zawada, OFM
Voices in The Wilderness
Baghdad

Dear Loved Ones - Merry Christmas!

My five companions, Kathy, Cynthia, Claudia, Michael and Sean all dreaming of sugar plums. As I struggle to sing an English version of a Polish carol, a tank rolls by a half-block away. Cold, bitter cold here in Baghdad, no heat, electricity generally 2 hours a day, no hot water to bathe. I stink from a week of dirty clothes and smelly body. I heat up some water for coffee, munch on a few dates covered with peanut butter. What pleasure! I gaze out the big picture window over onto the street below and the hovels in the empty lot across the street, awful looking shacks, made up with bits and pieces of any material found on the streets, cardboard, tin, some bricks here and there, garbage strewn about (no decent place to put it) and then for me a revelation: I have absolutely no reason to feel sorry for myself. This coldness will not last. I do have layers of clothing to keep me relatively warm. I will be leaving for home in two weeks, back to comfort and surplus; friends, loved ones in both places. How can I possibly complain? My neighbors across the street and elsewhere, in Baghdad and throughout Iraq, Middle East and in so many other places - barely surviving on far less. How do I walk with these folks? How do we build hope for each other, for the scarred world in zillons of corners throughout the earth?

“Upon those who live in the land of gloom, a light has shone” Where? “Today a Child is born to us, a son is given us; upon his shoulder dominion rests. They name him Wonder-Counselor, God-hero, Father-forever, Prince of Peace”. Where? How? Who? When?

Last night and early this morning a series of bombings and shooting lasting several hours, like the night before. Likely some people killed. War in Iraq is not over, not by a long shot. Christmas 2003, indeed! Dominus flevit. God cries. …..and we?

Yesterday evening “Midnight Mass” at St. Raphael’s, inspiring music, pageantry, costumed children with golden voices, enacting the Bethlehem story, almost too delightful for what is happening outdoors. And shockingly, at that holy moment, American soldiers with rifles ready to fire, guarding at the door of the Church and even within, protecting the pageant and the devoted Christians. One handsome soldier gifted with a beautiful voice is invited to some joyful solos. After Mass he and I were asked to take a photo together. Although I felt uneasy about this I sensed something of kindness and gentleness about the man… and perhaps some hope. “Lay down the gun and go home”, my spirit cried out within. Nevertheless, it was easy to recognize this good person as my brother. And as our charming, wise Cynthia pointed out “The Iraqis are our sisters and brothers- we are one family. We are not supposed to hurt or kill anyone” And the young, gifted soldier: “Yes, Ma’am, I believe that, too”.

Hope? Light in the darkness? oozing somewhere throughout the hellish pageantry outside this Church of St. Raphael’s. Underneath this tragic warfare, spewing out its deadly lava throughout a world clinging to its fear and violence and greed, we get to understand a basic goodness struggling to emerge. Our work has just begun… we are not alone. and so we cry:

Come Lord Jesus! Maranatha!

Love,
Jerry