Faith in God is often tested, but the experiences of Palestinian Christians often demonstrate this in ways that would startle Americans.

Christian families and shop owners visited by a Review writer and photographer gave sometimes harrowing accounts of what their lives are like in modern Israel. In addition to living without the benefit of citizenship, these Palestinians described the often tense relationship they have with Palestinian Muslims.

But consistently they spoke of a resolve to continue living in the Holy Land and credited their faith in Christ as the reason. They look to Christians throughout the world to help them - both with financial support and prayer. The Franciscan Foundation for the Holy Land does what it can by providing affordable housing for them, either by buying old buildings or constructing news ones, in areas where other Christians live. This creates a community. "There is an Arabic saying, "One hand does not clap," said Maha Tams, 33, a teacher who lives in a nice, new apartment complex north of Jerusalem with her husband, Francis, 34, and their two children, Jasmine, 3, and Fadi, 7 months. Other Christians live in their building, much different than the situation they had in Jerusalem. "This is a nice opportunity. We are safe here." Francis Tams had his faith tested in a special way. The Israeli government evicted him and his mother from their apartment in the Old City section of Jerusalem in 1989, for reasons Francis Tams believes were illegal and over which he has since filed suit. In frustration, he threw a rock at a police car, was arrested and sentenced to nine years in prison.

REFLECTING ON THEIR FAITH - Francis Tams holds the Bible in Arabic, showing the notes he marked in it while in prison for protesting what he said was the Israeli government's illegal eviction of him and his mother from their Jerusalem apartment. With Tams is his wife, Maha.

The only Christian in the prison, he at first was welcomed by other Palestinians, who had been jailed as part of the first "Intifada" (in Arabic, "shaking off") uprising against the government in 1987. They saw him as someone unafraid to challenge the Israeli government. But then they tried to convert him to Islam.

He resisted, he said, showing the Arabic Bible he had then. It displayed notes he made in the margins. As a result, he got to know his faith a lot better because he was called on to defend it.

"They tried to push me into being a Muslim, but I had to resist. I'm a Christian in my heart and mind."

He credits more than his faith in God in surviving his seven-year prison ordeal (he was released two years early for good behavior). "My wife (then girlfriend) was part of my strength," he said.

A freelance accountant who earned a business degree by correspondence course in prison, Francis Tams said he realizes he and other Palestinian Catholics face an uphill battle.

"For sure I'm not leaving. I feel myself responsible to other Christians here. This is the Holy Land. We must keep it here."

He added: "It is the responsibility of all Christians throughout the world to help us."

Near the other end of the economic scale is the family of Johnny Khoury. He and his wife, Sonia, and children Wadie, 10, Dinna, 7, Rula, 5, Christo, 3, and Jessica, 1, live in a tiny three-room apartment in the Old City section of Jerusalem. They all sleep in one bed.

He is a house painter who has had few houses to paint in the past two years since the latest Intifada. Fortunately, he qualifies for some government assistance.

He has thought of moving to another country, as have some of his friends. But that is difficult with five children.

"It is difficult to change one's life," he said.

His face aged beyond its years by his concern for his family, Johnny Khoury nevertheless draws strength and hope from them. The five youngsters laughed and played while a Review writer and photographer visited; the children seemed most interested in the actions of the man taking their photographs.

"My children are the light of my life," Johnny Khoury said. "When they are healthy, I am happy."

Sonia Khoury added, "With help from God, things will change."

They both asked that Catholics in America remember them in prayer.

While Gabi Karmi worked at maintaining the seventh station of the cross along the Via Dolorosa, his wife, Amal (from an Arabic word for "hope"), and two sons, Majeb, 18, and Amjed, 15, spent a recent morning off school (Islamic holy day) watching television and talking about the future.

Their second-floor flat also was small but filled with light from several windows. Two parakeets, Honey and Sweety, provided background chatter to cancel out the television, which, as in all Palestinian Christian homes, was always on during a Review visit.

Majeb wants to be a lawyer, Amjed an electrician. They hope to do so in Jerusalem but realize they may have to go elsewhere. "She (his mother) has told me, 'If it is better for you somewhere else, you must move,'" Majeb said.

"God will always help us. I have too much hope," said Amal, whose throat cancer is in remission.

Meanwhile, her husband Gabi brings home a modest wage from the custodian's job the Franciscan Foundation helped him acquire along the Via Dolorosa.

He showed visitors from the Review where a disrespectful Muslim youth broke his left wrist with a stick, and he described how sometimes they'll spit toward the area in which he works after hollering at him. But despite the occasional abuse, he said he loves his job and the area in which he lives and works.

"This is my house," he said proudly of the 25-foot by 20-foot chapel he maintains. "When I come here I feel good."

He prays for his family and joins the few pilgrims who stop by these days as they pray for their intentions.

"This is the land for Jesus," he said.
- Jim Rygelski