I always knew that the phrase “being a good Samaritan” was something that meant being kind in some way, being a good neighbor/ compadre so to speak. But did you know that they, the Samaritans, are an actual group of people who live on top of a hill in the city of Nablus in Palestine? And that there’s only 700 of them left in the world? Some of them live on this hill and some live in a place called Holon, outside Tel Aviv, Israel ( and these are the only 2 spots on earth where they can be found) But they all, all 700 of them, gather together once a year for Passover on top of that mountain, Mount Gerizim, to commemorate a super ancient tradition of Passover, from the days of Prophet Moses, the traditions of which, according to the Samaritans, have been kept holy and unchanged for 3600 years.
Judaic Passover commemorates ancient Israelites being freed from slavery from the ancient Egyptian pharoahs, and it’s a time when people reflect on the struggles of the ancient Jews. Most images of Passover conjure up quiet time of reflection and.. flatbread. The Samaritan Passover is quite different. And quite bloody.
A couple of weeks ago, M, the French teacher Marie, and I took off to Nablus right after school to go see the Samaritan Passover, a special invitation that I couldn’t really pass up. It was quite an event and I was shocked to see more photographers and journalists and spectators from around the world attending this event than the actual Samaritans! They didn’t seem to mind, this was not a quiet secretive affair, in fact it was very much the opposite. We got there around 3:30 pm and the actual festiviites did not start until the sun set on the sunny clear sky. Children wore all white, and older men in the community walked around with long robes and a special hat. Walking inside a gated area, we saw giant pits blazing with fire, and the children adding in logs to light up the pits more, in preparation for the meat festivities that were to come later on. Straight in front of me was a comical sight, I thought, because there was a set of bleachers set up similar to those that you’d see in a kid’s mini league baseball game. Except for this one, on either sides, stood armed Israeli soldiers with the Israeli flags flying over them. The crowds got bigger and bigger, and more and more robed men entered through the gates, and after a while they all took their seats and chanted for a good while. The highest priest of the community was pretty easy to pick out. He was an old, large man that came in with a bright vivacious silky green robe, with a suited man walking in front of him holding the bottom of the priest’s robe up from the gound so that it doesn’t get in the way of the priest walking. His age and his clothes said it all. Photographers snapped away and pretty soon we were relocated to a special area, the non Samaritan spectator area, which after an hour got packed like a can of sardines with barely any spot to move.
Truth be told, I had no idea what I was witnessing. It was a lot of standing, lot of waiting, lot of being crushed and tiered restless feet, wondering when the stupid sun would set. Photographers were literally climbing on top of us to get some good shots of Samaritan spiritual leaders sitting in the center area waiting for the feast to begin. An hour or so before the sun set, a herd of sheep were brought in.
Fastforward 3 hours. Pure madness and chaos. The sheep were all slaughtered, herds of people were standing on rooftops, trying to get a glimpse of the Samaritan leaders singing and chanting and praying, and seeing the fresh bloody sheep, being placed on a series of large hooks, hung for everyone to see. The Samaritans all had a smear of the fresh sheep blood on their foreheads and they went about carrying huge wooden stakes to hang the sheep which would be prepared and cooked in those giant pits and not eaten till midnight.
The Samaritans reject the Jewish, Christian and Islamic focus on Jerusalem, and instead believe that Mount Gerizim as God’s chosen site. They boast a continuous lineage from Prophet Moses’ brother and have a complete record of the high priests of their community that stretch across over 130 generations*.
I am continually surprised at the permitted and prohibited lines drawn in and around Palestinian communities by Israeli authority, restricting movement, and perpetually squeezing them into tight spaces. Though this Mountain is on top of Nablus, there is a checkpoint outside of the Samaritan community that does not allow Palestinians to pass through.
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