Christians in Iran: safe but in a ghetto (II)
Tehran (AsiaNews) – The following is the second part of a report on Christian life in Iran. The first part was published yesterday: Christians in Iran: with Rouhani there is some movement (I).
Emigration has delivered a serious blow to the Christian presence in Iran. Sometimes direct persecution, but often economic hardships, wars, and social pressure have driven them away. Now Christian communities are very small.
I visited Tehran’s small Armenian Catholic church. The congregation includes some 200 people, about sixty families. For two years, they were without a bishop. This, and emigration abroad, contributed to their declining membership.
The bishop’s residence, a non-descriptive small two-storey building, has a steep and narrow internal staircase. Half of it is office space; the other half is used as the bishops’ quarters.
It was Sunday and we were treated to tea and biscuits.
Mgr Neshan Karakeheyan, patriarchal administrator of Isfahan, has now reached retirement age and looked very tired. He spoke to me about his community’s situation.
He noted that in Iran Christians are safe, and are not the object of violent persecution. However, they cannot be said to enjoy the same rights as other citizens.
Christians are accepted but they cannot proselytise nor engage in the mission. Pastoral work is allowed within the community but that cannot be visible from the outside. Above all, conversions are a no-no.
One thing that I heard over and over was how Christian communities are forced to send away all the Muslims who want to be baptised because their conversions would strongly antagonise the government.
As I listened to some lay people I realised to what extent Christians are marginalised in Iranian society. Many Armenians are doctors, but none will ever head a hospital. Many serve in the armed forces (military service is compulsory), but no Armenian will ever become a general or a colonel. Many teach, but no one will ever be a dean.
Even in Armenian schools, the schoolmaster has to be Muslim, appointed by the government.
The school curriculum comes from the government, but Christian schools are not required to teach Islam and can offer have two or three catechism lessons per week to Armenian students.
Friday is the day of rest. For many pastoral activities (catechism, meetings, etc.), it has replaced Sunday. Some communities even celebrate "Sunday" Mass on Friday because their members cannot get another day off.
Christian churches fascinate Iranians for their silence, harmony, beauty, and the paintings.
Iranian culture has never truly accepted fundamentalist iconoclasm. Pictures and miniatures remain part of the country’s tradition, including the prophet Muhammad.
Unlike the past, under Khomeini there was a break in the dialogue with other religious traditions.
To one side of the building, near the church’s exit stands a Lourdes grotto, full of ex-votos from people who were healed or women who were able to have children thanks to the Virgin.
On that day, before the statue of Mary, a woman stood in silence, wrapped in a black chador. After she moved away, I was told that she was a Muslim, who has not been able to have children after many years of marriage. She often visits the Virgin to ask for this grace.
After the Armenian church, we visited St Joseph’s Church, home of the Chaldean community. In the inner courtyard, a priest welcomed us, giving us some “palm leaves” for Palm Sunday. However, here they do not use olive branches but some other flowering plant with a red stem and small but fragrant shoots.
After a few minutes in prayer, we met the bishop, Mgr Ramzi Garmou, a strong and upright 70-something who serves a flock of some 2,000 people. When I asked him about the Church’s mission, he told me that he must turn away Muslims who ask to be baptised.
Mgr Ramzi was quick to point out however, that Christians in Iran live in safety, and are not attacked. He compared their situation with that in Iraq and with what his superior, Mar Louis Sako, the patriarch of Baghdad, told him.
When I visited the Armenian Apostolic community’s Ararat Centre, my impression that Christians live in a ghetto, tolerated but separate and isolated from the rest of society, got even stronger.
The centre is equipped with everything: pool, soccer field, a modern Armenian church, a bar, and even a school of dance and music for Armenian girls.
Under Khomeini, singing and dancing were banned. More recently, under Rouhani’s predecessor, Ahmadinejad, a morality campaign was waged against young people who sing and dance.
However, at least in Tehran, it is possible to see young people playing the guitar in gardens or wearing T-shirts with short sleeves.
Just in case, the director of the dance school asked me not to publish photos of the girls and their workouts.
For the record, Muslims are not allowed to join the centre; yet everyone seems happy with this situation. For Muslims, it is an example of tolerance; for Armenians, it is a way to praise the government for granting them such freedom.
I asked those present if it made them feel that they had some influence in society. None whatsoever was their answer.
At the end, we visited the small Armenian chapel. Modern in style, it has a typical cupola cone and houses contemporary Armenian art, full of spiritual inspiration.
Some ancient tombstones taken from Armenian cemeteries around the country lay around the building, a token of the long history of this community, which has been persecuted for centuries.
Inside the church, there is a stylised sculpture of Our Lady with child that could stand its ground in a modern art museum. Even in a ghetto, creativity is still alive.
I spent the three-day Pascal Triduum with Tehran’s Salesian community, who are responsible for the Latin community. Except for a few Iranians, the Latin rite community is largely international, with diplomats and foreign workers from India, South Korea, the Philippines, Congo, Italy, Great Britain and France.
Once, the community was much larger, when foreigners were more numerous and the economy was going strong. The embargo and Iran’s financial difficulties have reduced it to a few hundred members.
The elder of the community is Mgr Ignazio Bedini, 75, bishop of Isfahan of the Latins. The much loved bishop has been in Iran for 50 years and seen several changes at the top: from the Shah to Khomeini, from Khatami to Ahmadinejad and now Rouhani.
As he prepared to step down, he drew up plans to build the new cathedral of the Latins. Under construction in a new neighbourhood (pictured), it will be dedicated to the Sacred Heart.
The Salesians were looking for benefactors to fund such important work, which could give the community some visibility in the capital’s new districts.
Rouhani granted the land – no mean feat – but the project still has to submit to the old rules: the facade must not be visible from the street.
Speaking with several Christians, one feels the fear that the breath of fresh air that Rouhani brought might turn out to be short-lived.
There is also some of mistrust because "all these years we heard a lot of talk and a lot of promises, but nothing was done."
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