If the Nestorians, however, are “Protestant” enough[{187}] in some ways to satisfy the most rigid of English Evangelicals, they have some other customs that would considerably startle those good people; and conspicuous among these is their rite of animal sacrifice. This church of Mar B’Ishu is one of many in the land which are “Lord of Name”; and whither folk bring regularly goats and sheep, and sometimes even oxen, that they may be solemnly sacrificed at the church door.

The rite is practically the same as described in Leviticus, except that there is no burning of any part of the offering. The animal is brought, and its throat cut by the man who brings it; after which the priest takes of the blood and “strikes in on the lintel of the door” of the church. A solemn feast then takes place on the flesh of the sacrifice, the priest having his regular perquisites of hide and shoulder. The custom has the look of an Old Testament survival; but as a matter of fact, we suspect that it is far older than Moses. We may have here essentially the same sacrifices as those which were old in this land in the days when Abraham went forth from it; and which Moses merely codified in the wilderness some centuries after Abraham had taught them to his sons.

Sacrifice, it must be remembered, is not peculiar to these Nestorians. Yezidis, as already mentioned, practise similar rites. And every Mussulman will do the same at least once in the year; for on the Korban Bairam he always sacrifices an animal of some sort, in remembrance of Father Abraham’s sacrifice, not of Isaac (as Jews and Christians erroneously say), but of Ishmael.

At first it seems strange, and contrary to the whole tenor of the New Testament, to find Christians still persisting in the sacrifices of the old dispensation. But an Oriental has usually a good reason at the back of his mind for everything that he does; if only the Western can have the patience to find it, and to remember that European lines are not the only ones on which the human intellect can work.

In this case, if you ask him why he sacrifices, he is apt to reply, “Why not? It was the custom of my fathers of old, and can you show me any text that forbids it?[{188}]

If you produce texts about “one offering,” or any others of the sort, he has still a thrust to deliver that it is hard to parry. “Excuse me, but is not Saint Paul’s example as good as Saint Paul’s precept,[107] which our fathers do not interpret in the same way as you do. He took the four young men, and saw to it that an offering was made for himself and every one of them. May we not do what Saint Paul did?”

So the sacrifices continue: openly in this out-of-the-way corner of the world; and under the rose in better known parts, like Palestine, more frequently than many people believe. Nothing that ever was well established in the East has altogether ceased to exist in the hearts of men.

The gorge narrows below Mar B’Ishu, passing the only fresh-water lake in Kurdistan, which was brought into being a few years ago by a great landslip. In the ravine is a curious series of springs charged so heavily with iron that the water looks almost blood colour as it wells out of the rock, and leaves deep crimson stains on the cliffs. Its taste is curiously acrid; and (as might be expected) it is freely used as a tonic, and is very good for the purpose.

Local legend declares that it was by this road that the victorious Persians brought away the True Cross from Jerusalem, when Chosroës, after his capture of that city, sent the relic as a gift to his Christian queen, Shirin; and that healing waters sprang up wherever the bearers put down their sacred load.

The gorge dies out in the curious fold of the hills that is called Mergawar at one point of its length, Tergawar at another, and other names at other places. It is not a true valley, for the rivers run across it and break through its boundary hills by deep gorges; but it forms, on the eastern side of the Hakkiari Mountains, much the same sort of moat as is formed on the southern side by the similar valley of Amadia.