St. George's Memorial Church
Baghdad

An open letter from Canon Andrew White
June 2004


In reality, after leaving the parish of Balham Hill in South London in 1998, I never thought I would find myself looking after a congregation again. The church I now serve, just because I happen to be the only Anglican priest around, has all the difficulties and joys of my previous parish, with some additional challenges. St. George’s, Baghdad is the only Anglican church in Iraq. It was established in 1936, though for the past 14 years it has not been a functioning church. The church had been totally looted; not a pew remained. Many of the windows had been broken, the organ was removed, and the only church fixture that remained was the solid marble font.

Immediately after the war we held a service of thanksgiving for the liberation of Iraq. The congregation numbered about fifty. It was mainly made up of the British and US diplomats and military. The service happened under tight security with tanks surrounding the church and a helicopter flying overhead. The environment then was very positive but still quite dangerous. That was the last service in the church where the congregation was predominantly Western. 

Within a matter of weeks, St. George’s had an instant congregation which was all Iraqi. By Christmas there were regularly over a hundred children and two hundred adults in attendance.  With funding from the British Office in Baghdad and the Diocese of Cyprus and the Gulf, a basic restoration had taken place. Glass and doors were in place, plastic chairs in situ and a carpet laid. The whole church had been painted and the bricks cleaned inside and outside.

An electric piano was provided and hymns and liturgy were being projected onto a screen at the front of the church. For the first few months at the church when I was not in Iraq, services were led by Frank Wismer, a wonderful U.S. Army chaplain. After a few months it became too dangerous for Frank to leave the Green Zone. I would try and take the Sunday services at least twice a month and the other services of the Word were led by Maher, a wonderful Iraqi man who is a convert from Sabbism (the followers of John the Baptist). Nowadays, I am at St. George’s most Sundays. There are also two mid-week services, all well-attended. The congregation is mainly poor Christians, though we also have Muslims who attend regularly.

The needs of the people are immense; we try and help as many people as possible. Two weeks ago, two of the congregation came to me in tears. Two of their five children had been shot in the head. The father showed me the photographs of his two beautiful young children gunned down in their homes because their father made wine. These were the most horrific pictures I had ever seen, but they made up just one story of the suffering of the Iraqi people. There will be no enquiry and no justice for this family. Their only place of shelter, protection, and help is the church.

Immediately after the war there was an influx of evangelical missionaries to Iraq. In one month alone, eight new churches were started. The missionaries have now all left. It is now deemed too dangerous for people to visit Iraq. St. George’s, however, grows from strength to strength. What we have is a loving community of people who are desperate to know more of God and his love.

We are a very poor church. We have no budget, no funding, no security and yet this is one of the richest churches I have ever been part of. What we have is an assurance that somehow God will provide, and a love that binds us together in adversity. When Bishop Clive Handford visited a few months ago, he was greeted like a Patriarch. Everybody wanted his blessing or to touch his cross or kiss his ring. Within days of his visit, his pictures were prominently displayed in the church hall, which is also the caretaker’s home.

Each Sunday, after the service, we have cake and cold drinks on the church lawn, placed between two bombed-out government buildings. We talk about the things of the past week; people come asking for advice and help. We hug each other and at times share a tear together at the news of the death or injury of church members in the preceding week’s violence. It is in reality like any other Anglican church on a Sunday afternoon; the only difference is that none of these people are Anglicans and it is very, very hot, at least 50º C. Eventually, a bus arrives to take the people home; it is deemed too dangerous for people to travel home alone. Most of the congregation lives close to the church. If you ask them why they come here, it is because they
find God at St. George’s, but I also have my suspicion that it is something to do with the church being called St. George’s. St. George is a much revered saint throughout the Middle East. On St. George’s Day this year hundreds turned up to pray in the church.

There have been many highlights in the life of the church over the past year. Nothing though quite compares to the joy and earnestness of last Palm Sunday, when the cries of Hosanna rung through the streets of Baghdad and the cries of the people for God to save them now were expressed with a real passion. Pentecost was another highlight as we gave thanks to God for sending the Comforter, the Holy Spirit. We also celebrated the birthday of the church with a seven-tier birthday cake. Somehow every piece of this huge cake managed to disappear. There are many challenges that lay ahead for the church, not least the need for a permanent chaplain, but in such a dangerous environment the chances of somebody being able to move into Baghdad
to take care of the church long-term are remote. It is, however, Bishop Clive’s desire to eventually send a chaplain into Baghdad. Meanwhile, worship for the huge number of military and diplomatic personnel remains in the Green Zone. There are several services each Sunday in the Palace and a chaplaincy centre is soon to open. I start each Sunday morning officiating or preaching at these services.

Please pray for St. George’s, that we may continue to grow under the guidance of the Holy Spirit and offer a beacon of light and hope to a nation in despair.

Canon Andrew White is co-Director of the International Centre for Reconciliation at Coventry Cathedral. He is the Special Advisor to the Iraqi Institute of Peace.