Meet Israel’s Father Maher Abood

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by Hanne Foighel



Father Maher

Hear Fr. Abood discuss his priestly vocation.


“All my life I have felt the hand of God on my shoulder,” says Father Maher Abood, who for more than 30 years has served Israel’s 78,000 Melkite Greek Catholics —the country’s largest church.

“Sometimes it was heavy, but he never left me,” continues the 60-year-old priest with an ironic smile, referring in part to his injured shoulder, for which he recently underwent surgery.

Father Abood grew up with four brothers and two sisters in Shfaram in the Galilee in northern Israel. At the tender age of six, he expressed for the first time his desire to become a priest.

“It is the Holy Spirit asking me to become a priest,” says Father Maher, recalling the words he used as a boy.

“Till this day I don’t know where this answer comes from,” the priest continues.

Though he felt his calling at an early age, his journey to the priesthood was by no means an easy one. At first, his father vehemently opposed his son’s wishes and would not allow him to study at the seminary. Fortunately however, his mother was supportive and made every effort to persuade his father to back his priestly ambitions. At the age of ten, the Aboods gave Maher their blessing and saw him off to Nazareth where he enrolled at the Greek Catholic seminary.

Four years later, the young seminarian was offered an opportunity to continue his studies in Paris, France. Once he obtained the relevant permissions and paper work, he set off for the City of Lights, where he excelled as a student and became a very active volunteer among the city’s sick, prisoners, immigrants and youth. His hard work paid off and he was awarded a scholarship to purse advanced studies in psychology.

The bishop in Israel, however, had other plans for Mr. Abood. Superiors at the seminary in Paris informed the bishop that Mr. Abood had been neglecting his pastoral duties in order to engage in his many charitable activities. Concerned that Mr. Abood did not have the “pastoral spirit,” the bishop called him back home to the Galilee and blocked his ordination to the priesthood.

The news deeply saddened Mr. Abood and he spent an entire year in seclusion, leaving his home only at night “to speak with the stars.” Still, the young man never turned his back on his calling, requesting readmission to the seminary multiple times. Not until some three years later did the bishop retract his decision.

In 1977, a few days before Christmas, Father Abood was ordained a priest in the village of Rameh in the northern Galilee where he was to serve as pastor. But a week later on New Year’s Day, the bishop assigned Father Abood to the mixed Arab Christian, Druze and Muslim village of Maghar, where he was expected to begin his service as pastor just five days later on 6 January —the Epiphany.

Though Father Abood at first responded to his new post in Maghar with dismay and reluctance, he ended up spending the next 29 years of his life there, serving its residents with the same love and devotion he had given to Paris’s needy during his student days. Whenever possible, Father Maher always extended invitations and assistance to members of the Druze and Muslim communities, never missing a funeral or wedding and earning the respect of everyone in the village.

The villagers on the other hand have not and do not always treat one another with the same respect. Though for the most part Maghar’s different religious communities have lived together peacefully for generations, tension frequently characterizes relations among them, particularly between Christians and Druze. In recent decades, the tension between these communities has flared, erupting in violent clashes on two occasions —once in 1981, and again in 2005. In 1981, gangs of Druze set fire to many of the town’s Christian-owned businesses. Authorities cite perceived economic strife as an explanation for the incident. In 2005, Druze youths attached Christians and Christian-owned property for two straight days, damaging or destroying more than 100 homes and cars. A false rumor that a Christian posted obscene photographs of Druze women of the Internet incited the violence.

When the last episode came to an end and the dust began to settle, Father Abood took the lead in efforts to reconcile the two sides. Sadly, his pleas for peace fell on deaf ears; residents remained unmoved in their feelings of bitter resentment and fear. At his wits end and with a lifetime of dedicated service to Maghar’s residents behind him, Father Abood retired from his duties as pastor later that year.

“They wanted me to make a peace march through the village, but I refused. There was no true peace. The situation is still like a wound under the skin. Not open. Not healed.”

Father Abood’s most lasting achievement is Maghar’s Greek Catholic parish. When Father Abood first arrived, the Greek Catholic community was disorganized; the parish, largely inactive; and the church, in a state of disrepair.

At the first liturgy he celebrated on the Epiphany in 1977, parishioners in attendance included no more than two elderly nuns, five women and their some ten to 15 children who ran freely among the empty pews. The sound of water dripping through a leak in the church’s roof filled the moments of silent prayer.

As pastor, Father Abood revived the village’s Greek Catholic community and expanded its parish to unprecedented dimensions. As his legacy, he left behind a pulsating Christian life in Maghar. The refurbished church now welcomes an active and larger than ever group of churchgoers. A new community center hosts women’s clubs and gospel reading groups and serves as a Sunday school enrolling more than 1,200 children and youth.

At the last liturgy he celebrated in Maghar in 2005, Father Maher handed out more than 500 hosts during Holy Communion.

“No wonder my shoulder hurts,” he says with a smile. “Man does not choose his own path.”

Hanne Foighel is a Danish-born journalist who has spent the last 25 years reporting from the Middle East for European publications.

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