Playing in Syria

Playing in Syria

            In September 2016, I went to Lebanon with a group from Grace Presbytery.  We visited churches in the National Evangelical Synod of Syria and Lebanon, part of the Presbyterian family. As part of the trip, we had the option to go into Syria.  Syria was in the midst of its civil war and we were promised that we would go into a part of the country where there was no fighting and where it was safe.  I talked to Crysta, my wife, about entering Syria and she said I could, as long as I did not come back in a body bag.  I decide to go into Syria, intent on avoiding all body bags.

            Our small group was led into Syria by Elmarie Parker, a Presbyterian mission co-worker. It took almost three hours for us to cross the border from northern Lebanon.  The Syrian border guards were not sure why a group of Americans would want to come into their country.  The U.S. and Syria are not on very good speaking terms.  We had letters of invitation from the Presbyterian Churches in Syria.  Our plans were to visit some of these churches that had been affected by the war, to let them know that they were not forgotten, and that their brothers and sisters in the U.S. were present with them.

            A man picked us up at the border to take us to lunch and our first church.  He had an AK-47 pointing down at the floorboard and I got to sit next to it.  I reached over to buckle my seatbelt and he advised me not to do that, in case we had to get out of the car quickly.  I realized I was in a different world.  I had never been in a war-torn country where I might have to dive out of the car.  The part of Syria where we were traveling had heavy fighting two years prior, but most of fighting had moved on to other parts of the country.  Our driver did tell us that a suicide bomber had tried to blow up one of the bridges we drove over. 

            One of the churches we visited was the Presbyterian Church of Homs. Homs had been a city of 2,000,000 but due to the earlier intense fighting, the city was down to 200,000.  So many buildings were simply bombed out shells, nothing left but the outside walls.  The church building had been the headquarters for the rebels who had taken control of Homs.  As the Syrian army pushed and shelled the rebels out of the city, the rebels fled and destroyed the inside of the church building. The church had been slowly rebuilding both the building and their ministry.

            The youth of the church got together and decided that the children in their neighborhood had never played.  They had spent the last five years of the war huddled inside their homes, with no chance to go outside.  The youth decided to gather the children together every Saturday afternoon in the church courtyard to play with them.  There were over 100 children. We got to watch them play and to join in.  The children played the games we often play at church camp or Vacation Bible School: water balloon toss, races where you carry water in a large spoon from one bucket to another, freeze tag. 

            Pause and picture this image.  Shelled out buildings in the background.  A church rebuilt in the midst of rubble. Children gathered on a concrete playground, running, laughing, playing. Youth running, laughing, playing.  Adults watching, then laughing, playing.  Hope flowering in the midst of destruction.  I became convinced in that moment that the path to peace involved play.  Not the kind of play where score is kept, and referees enforce rules. Play for enjoyment of that moment of being together, running, laughing. If the generals and presidents could meet on a concrete courtyard and play, truly engage in play, peace would break out.  I am convinced of it. Naïve? Sure but I am also pretty sure it has never been tried. We adults take things to damn seriously.

            Right now so many children in Syria are not able to play outside.