“So Jonah arose, and went unto Nineveh, according to the word of the LORD. Now Nineveh was an exceeding great city of three days’ journey. And Jonah began to enter into the city a day’s journey, and he cried, and said, Yet forty days, and Nineveh shall be overthrown.” (Jonah 3:3–4)
The drive from the Kurdish capital of Erbil to the Mar Mattai Monastery (the Monastery of Saint Matthew) cuts across the Nineveh Plains, a region in northern Iraq stretching east from the Tigris River near Mosul, across from the ruins of the ancient city of Nineveh, and encompassing roughly 3,600 square kilometers of relatively flat, fertile land. We traveled in an armored SUV, its thick glass and doors weighing nearly 200 pounds each, rolling steadily across open terrain of agricultural fields.
We passed scattered villages composed of low concrete houses with flat roofs, surrounded by walls, water tanks perched on rooftops, and power lines sagging across empty space. Occasionally, we saw shepherds tending their flocks on horseback. The plains are bordered by mountains to the north and east, their presence constant on the horizon.
These long, exposed stretches of land are home to some of the oldest continuous Christian communities in existence. This is the heartland of ancient Assyria, where the prophet Jonah was famously sent to call the city to repentance. Assyrian Christians have made their home here since the first century AD. According to early Church tradition, these communities trace their origins to the apostolic age through the missions of Addai and Mar Mari, disciples of the Apostle Thomas. They are ethnic Assyrians who still speak dialects of Aramaic, the language Jesus spoke, and their liturgical language, the language of their Mass prayers, remains ancient Aramaic.
“Woe to the bloody city! It is all full of lies and robbery; the prey departeth not.” (Nahum 3:1)
Nahum called Nineveh the “bloody city,” a place where violence never ceased. Twenty-six centuries later, on the same ground, ISIS brought that ancient prophecy full circle. Before 2014, the Nineveh Plain hosted the largest remaining concentration of Christians in Iraq, with estimates ranging from 150,000 to 200,000, primarily Assyrian Christians, including Chaldean Catholics, Syriac Orthodox, Syriac Catholics, and members of the Church of the East. These communities were centered in historic towns such as Qaraqosh (Baghdeda), Bartella, Karamlesh, Tel Keppe, and Alqosh.
The region contains key religious sites tied to this long Christian presence. The tomb traditionally identified as that of the prophet Jonah, Nebi Yunus, stood in Mosul until ISIS destroyed it in 2014, while the prophet Nahum’s tomb is believed to be in Alqosh. Numerous early Christian saints and martyrs are venerated across the plain, and ancient monasteries served as burial places for generations of monks and church leaders, including Mar Mattai, the oldest Syriac Orthodox monastery in the world, founded in AD 363, and Rabban Hormizd, along with countless historic churches scattered throughout the region.
During the ISIS period from 2014 to 2017, that presence was nearly erased. When ISIS swept through the region in August 2014, virtually the entire Christian population fled overnight, marking one of the largest Christian displacements in modern history. ISIS systematically destroyed or desecrated churches, some dating back to the fourth century, burned libraries of ancient manuscripts, demolished Mar Behnam monastery and other heritage sites, used Christian villages as military positions, and appropriated homes and property. The Christian population fled primarily to Erbil and the Kurdistan Region, where families lived in churches, schools, and displacement camps.
My translator and companions on this trip were Dlo, who works for the frontline aid organization Free Burma Rangers (FBR), and his brother Omar, a high-ranking member of the Kurdish security forces. Both men have extensive experience fighting ISIS, having served alongside American and coalition forces.
Iraqi Kurdistan is a unique outpost in the Middle East. Although located within Iraq, it has its own government, military, and even visa stamps at the airport. Kurds are quick to explain that they are not Arabs, and although they are Muslim, they are highly accepting of Christians, Yazidis, and other minorities.
As Mar Mattai monastery came into view, built into the living rock of the mountains ahead, Dlo recalled those desperate days roughly a decade ago, when he and his brother stood with the Peshmerga and American forces and the Rangers to hold off ISIS fighters pouring out of their capital in Mosul. “ISIS tried to take the monastery, but the Peshmerga stopped them,” he said.
Along the way, Dlo pointed to villages scattered across the plain, naming them one by one. “And this is another village. It’s called Al-Faf. They’re all Christian. And that’s another one. Maghara. It’s called Maghara.” Maghara contained a playground sponsored by Reload Love, an NGO that funds playgrounds for children in war zones. It was installed by Free Burma Rangers during the fighting.
Speaking about the families and children there, Dlo said, “ISIS tried to murder them because this village is very close to the front line.” Omar added that they received intelligence one day that ISIS planned to blow up the monastery. “They wanted to sneak up the mountain and destroy it, the same way they did in Mosul. ISIS blew up all the holy places, all the prophets, everything they could. They wanted to destroy the very ancient history.”