In Nazareth, famed for being the hometown of Jesus, Emek Yezreel College is trying to bridge the chasm between Israel's various faiths by putting Muslim, Jewish and Christian college students in the same classroom. The 10-year-old program was built in the Galilee region where the three faiths already co-exist, Nazareth, for example, is equally populated by Arab Christians and Muslims. Just outside the city is the Jewish town, Nazareth Illit.

A dozen of the college's 3,500 students met with Columbia journalism reporters to describe the interfaith friendships they've developed at the school and the future of interfaith relationships. Gathered in small groups in the Church of the Annunciation courtyard, believed by Christians to be where angel Gabriel told Mary she would give birth to the son of God, the Columbia and Emek Yezreel students hurried to get acquainted and dive into matters of faith.


NEARLY FRIENDS
By Joe Orso

The three women spoke frankly. A Palestinian Christian sat between two Jews outside the Church of the Annunciation and all agreed that they were friends in class. Yaara Iftach, 24, even said she loved Reham Khoury, 20, the Christian. But they would never eat dinner together or meet outside of school. That kind of interaction just doesn't happen, they said.

Walking back to her car to return to the university, Iftach said, "I don't believe there's anything that can bring the peace for us. Not today."

Listening to her and her classmates made it difficult to disagree. Not only was the division between the classroom friends striking, but so was the matter-of-fact manner in which they discussed the unbridgeable separation.

But a Palestinian Muslim in his early 20s, also living in Nazareth, told a different story. Joseph Asadi said he was afraid of Jews as a child, but when he came into contact with them - first at a job waiting tables and later in classes in college - the fear vanished. He even became close with one Jewish classmate and since the two young men's families have picnicked together twice in the Golan Heights.

He said when they were together, the two families talked about bombs. "We think the same ideas," he said in broken English. "It's a bad thing. It does not give anything to the peace process."

Others at the bus stop told similar stories to Asadi's. While Muslim-Jewish-Christian relationships in Nazareth remain controversial, it was clear that, unlike their parents' generation, the town's young people, whatever their opinions, were at least talking to each other.

HOPING FOR HIJAB
By Joshua Oleskar

Three Columbia journalism students, a Muslim, Christian and Jew, teamed with two Nazareth college students, Souzan Zoabi and Samah Mansour, to look for evidence of the friction between tradition and modernity in the life - and dress - of Nazareth's Muslims.

The Nazareth students themselves dressed in western style, but their outfits masked a yearning and love for their tradition.

"We know it's wrong [to dress this way], but we still do it," said the 20-year-old Mansour. Both she and Zoabi said they aspired to wear the traditional hijab when they got older.

"I hope I will wear the veil one day, yes" said Zoabi, who is also 20.

As the students pursued their assignment through the streets of Nazareth, they discussed politics, the recent intifada and the seemingly intractable difficulties in the Holy Land. Zoabi spoke freely and without rancor of her wish that the Palestinian people would be sovereign over the whole land and the State of Israel simply "go away."

She conceded that the Israelis probably were not planning to leave anytime soon. "Yes, we will have to compromise with them," she said with a sad smile.

Adewale Fatade, 33, a Columbia student from Nigeria, was deeply impressed by the Nazareth students' brilliance and commitment. "Did you hear them?" he said. "They are incredibly intelligent, and they are ready to die for their country! They told me that!" He smiled and shook his head. "Quite amazing!"

FRIENDS BUT NOT LOVERS
By Armen Terjimanian

In the predominately Christian and Muslim town of Nazareth, young adults are friends, especially those in college, but dating and marrying outside one's religion is still a dicey matter.

"It's not good for the future, but they do it," said Arsnan Arsnan, an elderly Muslim shop owner in Nazareth. Although Arsnan's two adult children both married Muslims, and in principal he disapproves of inter-religious marriage, he said he would accept it if his kids married Christians.

Although dating between Christians and Muslims may be taboo to the older generation, younger people don't seem to care.

"I have dated a Christian girl," said Mohammed Mosa, 21, from Nazareth. "I would maybe even marry one."

But many of Mosa's peers are not allowed to date someone from another faith. Florine Alrous, 21, a Christian student at Emek Yezreel College in Nazareth, knew her best friend, a Muslim, was dating a Christian boy for six months without her family's knowledge. Alrous' friend ultimately broke off the relationship because she was afraid for her life and did not want to dishonor her family by possibly marrying a Christian.

"She would have to completely break with her family if she went with a Christian boy," said Alrous. "Her brother would have to kill the Christian boy if he had the courage. It is quite common."

Muslim shopkeeper Shedi Fahoum, 30, thinks religious people have more issues with inter-religion dating than secular people. "If I found somebody who I loved and she loved me back, I would consider it," said Fahoum, whose uncle married a Jew and brother married a Christian.

Even though secular adults don't mind dating someone not of their faith, older residents like Elouti Samir, a 66 year-old Christian shopkeeper, don't like it but can't do much about it.

"Eventually everything gets accepted in the families over time."

ONE GOD, THREE CULTURES
By Benjamin Harvey

Shireen Saleh, 22, and Abed el Kareem, 23, both Palestinian Muslims who attend an ethnically and religiously mixed university in Nazareth, Israel, said they usually socialize only with other Muslims after school, but they had no problems also doing so with Christians.

"There is no need to separate Christians and Muslims. They are the same," said Saleh, pushing her black hair out of her eyes. And the Jews? Well, "We see them when we go out," she said.

Nazareth is best known as the city where Jesus lived most of his life. Today, it is the largest Arab city in Israel and has a population of 60,000, of which nearly two-thirds are Muslim and most of the rest Christian. At the local university, Muslim and Christian Arabs attend classes with Jews, in an experimental effort to encourage peaceful interaction and dialogue.

Both students expressed frustration that their university didn't have a place for them to pray, though observant Muslims are expected to do so five times a day. Kareem even said that he made up the prayers he missed later, doing four of them in a row when he got home. Kareem also noted that though the language of instruction was Hebrew and all students speak English, in the hallways Arab students converse in Arabic, a language only some of the Jewish students can understand.

And when school lets out, the interaction stops. "In the university, it's normal," Saleh said. "In the neighborhood, it's a problem."

Interestingly, however, the divide between Muslim, Christian and Jewish students in Nazareth seems to be based much more on ethnicity and culture than on religion. When asked to describe what he knew of other faiths, Kareem went on at some length about what Christians believe, and the differences between Christians and Muslims. The explanation of what Jews believe was much simpler for him. "The Jews -- like us," he said. "They believe the same thing: one God."

LEARNING FAITH
By Jason Anthony

Two women stand before the Byzantine ruins in the Church of the Annunciation. Heba Haroni was born and raised in Nazareth, an Arab Christian. Annat Fried, her friend, is Jewish, and plans to spend her life on her kibbutz, which lies outside the city. Although they study together at college, they almost never talk about their religious faiths that are so important to them and to defining Israel's past and future.

"When you start to talk about religion you can't finish," says Haroni.

Today is different. Although Haroni comes here every week, Fried has never been. She has been to cathedrals in Spain but has almost never set foot in a Christian church in her homeland. She asks Haroni to explain the importance of where they are.

"It is where Mary was living," begins Haroni with an undertone of shy enthusiasm. She points to an ancient chamber hewn out of rock, whispering so as not to disturb the German service in progress before them. "Gabriel came here to tell her she will birth Jesus."

Haroni takes her to a blue-tiled alcove outside the church where, she explains, crowds will gather on Good Friday to be baptized. "What is Good Friday?" asks Fried. A friend standing nearby, Inban Ben-Ami, leans over their shoulders and asks, "What is baptism?"

Freid admits to knowing almost nothing about Christianity. "I think we need to take Jewish children to see places like this," she said. "They take us to Kotel (the Wailing Wall), but never to see churches in Nazareth. I think that's important."

Haroni agrees. She says that she has friends, close friends of other faiths, but that those friendships have limits. "There is something that stops the relationship," she says, chopping her hand down on an open palm. "You can go so far."