The Good Samaritan

If you’ve read the Bible, perhaps you’ve heard of the Samaritans. One of the mountains that cradles Nablus happens to be Mt. Gerezim, the holiest site to the Samaritans. I went there yesterday to film an interview with one of the elders there. He told me many stories about the Samaritans, their history, and their relationship with the people of Nablus.

Interior of the Synagogue of the Samaritans, Nablus c. 1920

The Samaritans have lived in Nablus for 3600 years and as such are highly respected members of the community. They are prized for being good at math, having a fine sense of humor, and keeping the lunar calendar for the Muslim community. There is a bread here that I’ve been enjoying that is native to Nablus. I call it “elephant ear” bread since it looks and feels (but thankfully doesn’t taste) like an elephant’s ear. Up on the mountain, I discovered it is actually Samaritan unleavened bread used to eat on the Shabbat. It is a fine example of the culture shared between the two communities.

The elder told me a story that stretched back to his grandfather’s days on the Nablusi municipal council. During the British occupation, the Samaritans were caught making Araq, a traditional Arab alcoholic beverage. They were fined $400, a ton of money for the time and the region of the world. The community then was very poor and faced expulsion as a result of not being to pay. The entire Nablusi community banded together and raised the money to pay the British, despite the nature of the fine. They said under no circumstances would they lose such a vital part of Nablus to foreign occupation.

Samaritans praying on Mt. Gerezim

Even though their cultures and religions are different, the Samaritans and Muslims of Nablus have deep ties going back for many generations. The current occupation threatens this delicate social fabric woven over thousands of years. Since there are settlements built all around the Samaritan village, a checkpoint has been erected there that restricts the movement and interaction of Samaritans and Nablusians alike. The Samaritan elder expressed deep sadness that the communities were becoming isolated from one another. “We are not neighbors, we are one family,” he said. Every Nablusi resident I have spoken with shares the exact same sentiment.

During the second intifada, the Israelis destroyed the ancient Samaritan synagogue located in the Old City of Nablus, symbolically cutting them off from the beating heart of the region. As any reconstruction could be used as an excuse by the Israelis to settle the Old City, it sadly stands in ruin. The Israelis and the Samaritans are two different people with two different religions, but there has been a movement to co-opt the Samaritan youth into Israeli society. They traditionally affiliate themselves with Palestine — they have been active in government and speak Arabic as opposed to Hebrew — but due to the isolation on top of the mountain, their children have begun to associate with the IDF and settlers in the area.

Walking down the mountain a week or so ago, a curious Samaritan youth began to follow me, asking me what I thought of Mt. Gerezim. “It is a beautiful mountain,” I said.

“Yes, the most beautiful mountain.”

“Nablus as a whole is a beautiful place.”

He curled up his lip. “Call it Schlem,” he said, echoing something I’ve only heard IDF soldiers insist before.

I would love to be here in September for their Passover festival. They always insist on having a cross-section of religions and cultures present and it has always charmed and entranced the local population. It would be nice to record their history and rituals and share them with the rest of the world. Despite their epic historical presence in Nablus, all is threatened under an occupation designed to strangle identity, no matter whose it is.

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