Church attacks leave Christians feeling 'like target'

BAGHDAD -- The bombings at Iraqi churches did more than kill worshipers, smash tombstones, and shatter stained glass -- they destroyed any hope among the Christian community of staying off the hit list.

''Now, as a Christian, I feel like a target," said 40-year-old factory owner Ayad Zaya, speaking a day after car bombs at five churches killed at least 11 people.

''This is the first time that this has happened in the history of Iraq," he said, standing near a bomb site at the Assyrian church in Baghdad. ''When I leave my house, I say my prayers in the name of the father, the son, and the Holy Spirit."

Already frightened of what could happen to them in the uncertainty gripping postwar Iraq, one of the Middle East's oldest Christian communities is reeling from the shock of the first attacks on churches during 15 months of insurgency.

Christians, who make up only about 3 percent of Iraq's population of 25 million people, have traditionally kept a relatively low political profile, mindful of the precariousness of their position in an overwhelmingly Muslim society.

A spate of recent attacks on alcohol sellers fueled fears Christians might be singled out for attacks, but unlike the mosques targeted by extremists for bombings in the past year, their places of worship had seemed sacrosanct.

But Sunday, four car bomb attacks in Baghdad and one in the northern city of Mosul killed and maimed worshipers at evening prayers.

Now, many fear there may be more to come.

''Christians are frightened," said Imad, 30, a taxi driver, standing near the blackened walls of the Armenian church in the capital, where the smell of burned rubber wafted from cars scorched in one of the blasts. ''Ignorant people might think we're infidels because we're Christians like the Americans."

While many Christians hated Saddam Hussein for his oppression, they were free to worship under the ousted dictator, who officially preached religious tolerance and maintained Tariq Aziz, a Christian, in a prominent role as deputy prime minister.

Majority Shi'ite Muslims faced political persecution by the Sunni-dominated government under Hussein.

Conscious of their status on the political margins, Christians are nevertheless proud their faith came to Iraq in the first century while Islam arrived in the seventh century. Since then, their relative numbers have plunged. Many Christians fled abroad after last year's US-led invasion to escape crime flourishing in the chaos.

''We're the red Indians of Iraq," said Shmael Benjamin, a member of the political bureau of the Assyrian Democratic Movement, a Christian political party. ''We were the majority, today we're the minority -- our percentage is reducing day by day in this country."

Raising the specter of religious strife, Iraqi officials say they fear the attacks on the churches are aimed to foment tensions between Iraq's communities -- although there was no sign of friction at the scene of the bombing at the Assyrian church.

''There's no problems between us; we live together like brothers," said Adnan Mohammed, a 53-year-old Muslim visiting his brother's house, which was damaged in the blast.

But for Christians who count many Muslims among their friends, the shock of the bomb attacks proved that as far as Iraq's future is concerned, there are few certainties.

Adil al-Sabbagh, 64, gazed at the crater in front of the Assyrian church where he was married in 1970, remembering how Muslim friends mingled with the other guests.

''Once they've attacked a church and a mosque, there's nothing sacred for them," he said, as a man swept away broken glass. ''The people who did this are capable of anything."