Last Monday was the second day of Easter, and we have a nice tradition.
Every year, on the second day of Easter we hold an Easter ceremony in our demolished and displaced village of Ma’alul, Palestine. The village was depopulated and demolished in the 1948 by the Israeli Army and we, my family and the other displaced inhabitants of that village, had to flee to the nearby towns, near Nazareth. The only things that still stand in Maa’lul are: two churches and half a mosque. One of the two churches was my family’s church, a beautiful church that we the displaced people innovated and cleaned. And now surrounded by nature, the church is more beautiful than ever. And it gets more beautiful in time, when we, the third and the fourth generation, still pay it a visit.
Ma’alul is part of who we are, and knowing that it’s still there and here makes it still alive, and real. For us and for our grandparents that are still alive to feel the pain of that time. I don’t have the right to speak of their pain as I wasn’t born at that time, and I have no idea what they actually went through. They went through a lot and they still smile and hold that brave look in their eyes: a brave look that says “It’s not about hope, it’s about what the generation we raised believes in.”
And yes, we believe that the village is still part of who we are. And even though we go on living our lives the way we can, we still pay a good visit to our village.
As long as we still stand, the church will still be there and more alive than before. We, the people, make this village alive. It will remain beautiful as long as we remain close by.
And here are some photos I took of the event last week: