High in the mountains of Iraqi Kurdistan, the Mar Mattai Monastery stands as a silent witness to centuries of faith and conflict. Its ancient stones have echoed with prayers, and more recently, with the chilling threat of annihilation at the hands of ISIS.
Those who sheltered near the monastery remember a time of immense fear. Dlo spoke of families living under the shadow of ISIS, their village dangerously close to the front lines. Omar recalled intelligence warnings – a planned assault to destroy the monastery, mirroring the devastation ISIS unleashed upon historical sites in Mosul.
For Kurds, a deep-rooted belief in shared ancestry fosters a protective instinct towards Christians and other minority groups. They see them as brothers under God, a legacy of historical safeguarding. Yet, ISIS targeted not only Christians, but also Muslims, Yazidis, and anyone who didn’t conform to their extremist ideology.
As ISIS advanced in 2014, Christians didn’t passively await their fate. They formed militias – the Nineveh Plain Protection Units, Dwekh Nawsha, and the Nineveh Plain Forces – to defend their ancestral lands, demonstrating a fierce determination to protect their heritage.
Today, Christian communities throughout Kurdistan maintain their own security forces, a testament to their resilience and a response to ongoing threats. The NPU, recently re-established after community protests, stands as a symbol of self-determination and protection.
The Mar Mattai Monastery belongs to the Syriac Orthodox Church, a distinct branch with a lineage tracing back to Saint Peter himself. Its patriarch resides in Damascus, Syria, representing a tradition separate from Rome and other Eastern Christian rites.
Father Joseph, a resident of the monastery, recounted its origins. In the fourth century, Saint Matthew and his fellow monks fled persecution, seeking refuge in the caves of this very mountain. Miracles, he explained, guided them to build the monastery in AD 363, a sanctuary born from hardship.
The monastery’s survival through centuries of war is remarkable, but its recent escape from ISIS destruction feels particularly miraculous. While countless religious sites were obliterated, Mar Mattai remained standing, a beacon of hope amidst the darkness.
The fall of Mosul in June 2014 unfolded with terrifying speed. ISIS seized control, activating sleeper cells and issuing a brutal ultimatum: convert to Islam, pay a tax, or flee. Nearly the entire Christian population abandoned their homes.
Mar Mattai became a haven for approximately 70 displaced families, offering shelter for two months. But the danger soon followed. ISIS vehicles approached the monastery, pausing just below before turning towards Bashiqa, leaving the community bracing for the worst.
Peshmerga forces quickly regrouped, establishing a defensive line against ISIS. For over two years, the monastery endured relentless attacks, often amidst fog, sandstorms, and heavy rain. Explosions from coalition airstrikes shook the very foundations of the ancient structure.
Throughout the conflict, monks remained at Mar Mattai, alongside the displaced, while clergy ministered to refugees in Erbil and Dohuk. The Kurdistan Regional Government, despite facing its own challenges, opened its doors and its heart to those fleeing the violence.
After ISIS’s defeat in 2017, the Church took on the monumental task of rebuilding. With support from the KRG and international aid, they focused on restoring homes and essential services, encouraging displaced families to return to their ancestral lands.
Father Joseph placed the recent conflict within the long, turbulent history of Christianity in Iraq. “It’s not new for us,” he said, reflecting on the monastery’s 1,600 years of existence. “We have seen many wars…and by the blessing of Jesus Christ, the monastery survived.”
Despite the violence and displacement, the Christian presence endures. Father Joseph believes this is a testament to their unwavering faith and a promise of resilience. “The Church exists much longer than any problem,” he affirmed, “and the gates of hell cannot stand against it.”
While many sought refuge elsewhere, others chose to return, determined to rebuild their communities and continue a legacy stretching back over a millennium. The spirit of Mar Mattai, and the people it shelters, remains unbroken.
