19/1/98

Christianity's doorman

    Obada Nuseibeh knows what he's going to do when he grows up. He'll get the key to the family enterprise.
    That key is the family enterprise.
    That key opens the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. Obada's father Wajeeh has been door-keeper of the holiest shrine in Christendom for the past 20 years, inheriting the job from his father. It's been going on like that in the Nuseibeh family for, oh, 1,300 years or so.
    This morning, Christmas Day for the Armenian community, worshippers waited patiently at the church's massive wooden doors as the ritual was carried out for something like the 474,500th time. Wajeeh accepted the iron key from a member of the Jawdah family (whose job it is to hold the key), he leaned a small ladder against the door, climbed three rungs, slid the key upwards into the simple mechanism, twisted, climbed back down, and heaved the ancient gateway open.
    Mr. Nuseibeh then placed the key in Mr. Jawdah's hand. Mr. Jawdah took it home and put it back in place. Tonight, Mr. Jawdah will lift the key from its place, walk back to the church, place it in Mr. Nuseibeh's hand, Mr. Nuseibeh will swing the door closed, prop the ladder, climb three rungs, slide, twist, climb back down and place the key back in Mr. Jawdah's hand. Mr. Jawdah will carry it home, put it in place.
    Another day, another dollar.
    (Actually, each family is paid the symbolic sum of $5 per month for their expertise.)
    It is entirely consistent with Middle Eastern logic that the building most sacred to Christians is opened and closed by two Moslem families, guarded by Jewish soldiers.
    Why? The reason is a tangle of theories, historical intrigues, religious hostilities and military conquest (also entirely consistent with the Middle East).
    Wajeeh, a soft-spoken, trim gentleman of 45, took time out between opening and closing hours to expound the theories.
    "It is said our family came here from Medina, before Islam. One of our family was a right hand to our Prophet Mohammed, Umma Omara Nuseibeh al-Hazrajiyeh, well known in history; Mohammed blessed her as one of the great protectors of Islam.
    "When Moslems came here in 636 AD, with the caliph, one of her children, Ibrahim, came here. And we've been doing this job since then," Wajeeh says in melodious, heavily-accented English. 
    "Then the Crusaders came and kicked out our family. We came back to Jerusalem with Saladdin, in the 13th century. Saladdin decided not to destroy the church, and gave the key to two families -- Nuseibeh, and Judis, or Jawdah."
    By now, the Moslem-Christian cooperation is locked in the ticklish status quo. The Christians don't seem to mind: anything that keeps the Greek Orthodox, Syrian Orthodox, Copts, Roman Catholics and Armenians from bashing each other is a good thing -- even if that invisible shield is from the other side of the tracks, religiously speaking.
    Wajeeh is thoroughly Moslem, but he has a profound, ingrained knowledge of Christian history, which he recites like a tape recording. If all he has to do is climb, push, twist and heave, he is not really required to know much. But Wajeeh is more than just the Christians' "Shabbes goy": he assumes his role with honor, and imbues himself with an understanding of the quirks of a strange religion. Obada, too, will learn the interfaith intricacies.
    Wajeeh supplements his $5 monthly income by helping out around the church and guiding groups through the eerie, tenebrous shadows of the shrine.
    The key is not your basic Rav Bariach model. For one thing, it has been copied: there are several of them now, "spares," Wajeeh calls them, including one from the Saladdin era. They are 30 centimeter-lengths of iron shaped like an arrow, with a loop at the tip.
    After the Six Day War, the two families expanded operations. "Since 1967, we have an employee -- we call him the Servant of the Door and the Key -- who sometimes opens and closes in the name of our two families, if we're not here. He is also a Moslem, of course."
    The second coming of the Jews to the Old City brought some pretty big changes to the routine. "During the war, we closed the church from the inside, not the outside. And, you know, before the Jews came, we used to close for lunch time, from 11:30 to 12:30."
    A man in such a sensitive position cannot be outspoken, and Wajeeh is perfect for the job. If he has opinions about Christians, Jews or Moslems, he won't say. "We are all equal. If it rains, it rains on everybody."
    Wajeeh believes 14-year-old Obada will be ready when his time comes. The next in line, which started with the great umma and has been passed down from abu to ibn, will have a lot to learn about what Wajeeh calls "my profession."
    "Obada knows the history, more or less. I've taken him to the church many times, and he has seen the operation of opening and closing."