Silver Chimes in Syria: Glimpses of a Missionary's Experiences

by William S. Nelson

Our first Sabbath, on this journey, found us at Latakia, where we spent the day with our neighbors and fellow workers of the Reformed Presbyterian mission. This mission was started especially to reach the Nusairiyeh people of north Syria. Because of the persistent interference of the Turkish Government, their work has been greatly hampered and their efforts largely restricted to the training of boys and girls in the boarding institutions in the city, and ministration to the sick in the hospital. It was a great pleasure to have this break in our journey and the pleasant intercourse with those engaged in the same kind of service as our own, and to have the privilege of speaking to the young people in their schools.

On Monday we went a short distance from the city, pitching our tent near a village of considerable size on the plain some miles back from the sea. As I sat in the moonlight at the door of the tent, a man wearing the white turban of a Moslem scholar approached me. He seated himself near me after a pleasant greeting and we fell into agreeable conversation. After some time, this man took the opportunity, when no one was near enough to overhear him, to ask most earnestly that we should send them a teacher for their children. I was surprised at the request from such a source and turned the conversation so as to make sure that he understood who we were and what kind of schools we conducted. He showed that he understood the matter fully, and that he really desired a Protestant Christian teacher for his town. I then asked him directly, "Are you not a Moslem?" Looking about again, to make sure no one should hear him, he said, "Yes, I am a Moslem now," with an emphasis on the last word which revealed the facts in the case. He was of a Nusairiyeh family but had yielded to the persistent pressure of the government so far as to accept the form of adherence to Islam, though in his heart he hated the system and its followers most cordially.

A long day's ride brought us through the wild and tortuous valley of the Nahr-ul-Kandil, up the slope of Mount Cassius to the town of Kessab, some four thousand feet above the sea, where the Latakia missionaries have their summer homes. It was a most beautiful though rugged ride, and would have been thoroughly enjoyable in good weather. The wild flowers were in full bloom, and every turn in the road brought into view a new combination of varied and bright colors, where the little blossoms clustered amid the green foliage, among the gray rocks. The great drawback to our enjoyment lay in the fact that for a large part of the distance we rode in a heavy and most unexpected rainfall. We were not prepared for such an experience in the month of May, and so reached our destination soaked and cold. We had been directed to take possession of one of the cottages belonging to the missionaries in Latakia, and it was certainly a most welcome haven. We were able to light a fire in the kitchen stove and spread out our wet garments to dry, while we warmed ourselves in the grateful heat.

It was a disappointment the next day that the top of Cassius was enveloped in heavy cloud, forbidding an ascent. This mountain is about five thousand feet in height, rising directly from the sea, and so is a conspicuous object from every direction and gives an extensive view from its summit. We could tarry but one day, and descended to the old site of Seleucia, at the mouth of the Orontes, and saw some remnants of the old harbor from which Paul set sail more than once. The Orontes is quite wide and deep near its mouth and we crossed it on just such a wire ferry as I had seen many years before on the Connecticut River in Massachusetts. The gardens of Swadia were most refreshing with their green verdure, cool shade and rich fruit, after a long day's ride in the heat, and again we had the pleasure of missionary fellowship, for our friends of the Reformed Presbyterian mission have a station here also. Another easy stage brought us to old Antioch, so closely associated with the beginning of Christian history. It is not an attractive city in outward appearance and has suffered much at different times from earthquake.

From Antioch we followed the Orontes Valley up to Hamath, where we were once more among our own organized stations. Such journeys give us an acquaintance with the country and the people, which is of the most vital importance in planning for the proper expansion of the work.

Once, on a pleasant summer evening, we were encamped near a Nusairiyeh village. Among those gathered about us were an elderly peasant and his son, a well-built, sturdy youth of seventeen or eighteen years. As he sat before us this young man appeared to be in perfect health and vigor, but when he rose to walk, his awkward gait revealed his misfortune, for both feet were so badly deformed that he walked on his ankles and not on the soles of his feet. The doctor was asked whether this defect could be remedied. After a careful examination the lad was told that the operation would be painful, and that some time would be required, but that if he would come to the hospital, prepared to stay as long as should be necessary, he would be able to come away, walking erect, like other people. The faces brightened at once, and we shared in their pleasure at the prospect of this deliverance. The next morning, however, we were told that the family had talked over the matter and decided not to have the operation performed. We assured them there should be no expense, but they said it was not the matter of expense. Then we told them of similar cases which had been successfully treated, but they assured us they had no doubt of the doctor's skill. We encouraged the young man to bear the pain for the sake of increased enjoyment in life afterwards, but he said he was not afraid of the pain. What then was the trouble? At last we learned the truth. So long as the lad could show two such clubbed feet, he would be excused from military service; but if they were made straight he would be called to the army; and he would rather go through life a cripple than to give several years of his vigor to service in the Turkish army. And he is no exception.

We were approaching a large town of bigoted people, wondering how we should secure an opening for our message. I was riding slightly in front of the doctor, occupied with plans for securing access to the people. Suddenly I heard the doctor's voice behind me saying, "Boy, do you want your eye straightened?" On looking back I saw a lad of about fifteen years, with a decidedly crossed eye, beside the doctor's horse. He promptly accepted the offer, and we hastened to dismount and tie our horses. A table in the little roadside café was quickly cleared, while the doctor got out his case of instruments from his saddlebags. The boy was placed on the table and in an incredibly short time the cords were severed so that the eyeball took its proper position, and we were thoroughly advertised. By the time our camp equipage came up, we had been provided with an excellent place to camp, and had nothing to complain of in the reception of the people.

A memorable experience was in the neighborhood of a large village whose gardens are said to be watered by three hundred springs. Whatever the correct number may be, there is no question about the abundance of water and the luxuriance of the gardens. We had three tents, one for medical clinics and one apiece for our two households, and settled down for a fortnight's work. Every day we had crowds about the tent for medical attention and for religious services. The evenings gave abundant opportunity for work among those who gathered about us after their day's work was done. They were glad to join in the hymns of praise, and listened earnestly to the spoken message and read word. One evening, the boys who gathered about the tent told me that the superintendent of their school was in town and had begun an examination, to be finished the next day. I decided to go to the school the next morning to make the acquaintance of the superintendent and to see what the school was doing. When I arose the following day, I found many of the boys about the tent, and asked them why they were not at school for the examination. "Oh," they said, "there is no examination to-day. Early this morning, the superintendent, the teachers and the headman of the village took their horses, a large bottle of spirits and a young kid, and went up to the top of the mountain to a famous spring to spend the day in a drinking spree."

One of the pleasantest evenings I remember in my regular routine touring was spent in this same village. We had brought our party to a garden, owned by one of our friends who was always glad to have us make it our headquarters. We had eaten our supper and were seated on the ground, under a high, branching tree into which was trained a huge grapevine. Behind us was a little hut, in which the caretaker slept in stormy weather. At one side was a rude booth where the owner slept during the summer. An oil lantern gave some light. One by one quite a group of neighbors and friends assembled and, after some general conversation, we sang some hymns. Then I opened the Bible for a little reading, with simple exposition. As I read and talked to them, the row of dark faces was turned toward me with an intentness and eagerness to hear that made me hope they might not see me or hear my words, but hear those words of life spoken so many years ago in Palestine, and see that Face from which alone shines the true light.