Bless Lord the Waters of the Nile

My favorite prayer in the daily mass says:

Bless, Lord, the waters of the Nile,
plants and fruits of the earth for the sake of the poor of Your people:
widows, orphans, strangers, guests and workers in every locale
as well as those who beseech You and call out Your holy name.
For the eyes of all hope in You
and You give them their food in due season.
Be gracious to us according to Your goodness,
You who give food to each one.
Fill our hearts with joy and peace.
May there be enough of everything
so that we may grow in every good work.

It’s amazing to think that this prayer has been prayed in Coptic, in Arabic and in English by generations of Copts over hundreds of years. As Egypt has changed hands, dynasties, rulers and been influenced by leaders, good and bad, over the centuries, this prayer has rolled off the tongues of Egypt’s sons and daughters like the Nile rolls ever northward.

My understanding and knowledge of Egyptian history is not as good as it could be, but certainly Egypt lives in need of prayer as badly as at any point in its history. Tomorrow as I leave Egypt to return home, protestors will be gathering at Tahrir Square to renew the call for a continuation of the revolution that began on 25 January. Those revolutionaries – primarily young people – who long to see Egypt become a truly free and democratic nation where all people know justice, need this prayer.

The Copts who pray these words for their land and their people also need our prayers. Their eyes indeed hope in God these days, but many live in fear of what the future will hold. The stories I have heard and read this summer are sobering. The sectarian divisions that have flared in large and public ways in recent months continue in smaller ways in cities and villages across Egypt. Christians (and other religious minorities) feel threatened by the uncertainty that revolution has brought to them. They live with the fear of harassment and violence and sometimes they live with real violence and harassment.

In any case, my students and friends and others I have met this summer have asked more than anytime, “pray for us.” The stories I have heard, the faces I know, the news I read will continue to shape my prayer in the coming days, weeks and months. I invite you to join me in asking God to continue to open wide his hand to bless the Nile and this treasured land and all those who have been formed by it.

Colleagues

I write an awful lot about me, myself and my students in my blog, and occasionally I mention the “other teachers” who are my colleagues in the summer program. One of the blessings of being here is the other people I work with who are kind, hard-working, fun to spend time with and who care for and look out for each other when we come to the end of our ropes (or when Pharaoah’s revenge hits hard)!

For five years I have taught with Father Michael Calabria and Rita Reichert – we are the co-coordinators of the English program at St. Leo’s. Michael is a Franciscan friar at St. Bonaventure University in Olean, NY and I have the good fortune to see him when I am at home as well as in Egypt. He is a wonderful and trusted colleague who continually models shared leadership with me in front of the students. Their acceptance of me as a pastor of the church is in large part due to the leadership and friendship that Michael models to them.

Rita teaches early childhood special education in Ohio. She is an “includer” at heart and is our unofficial minister of social affairs. Usually it is Rita who organizes our outings, makes arrangements for us and always, always, always is inviting others join in. She is a gift.

Bonny Prudhomme, Dea Hart, Ian Rogers and, last but not least, the-one-who-opens-doors Sr. Pina are my other teaching colleagues. We bring different gifts, different skills and different temperaments to the program, but we work well together.

(From Left to Right: Bonny Prudhomme, Dea Hart, Me, Ian Rogers, Fr. Michael, Rita Reichert)

It really is a blessing to work with such good folks. Tonight we’re off to see the Darwish – the Sufi dancers. It’s been 5 years since I first saw these folks and I still remember it as one of the most transfiguring and spiritual experiences of my life. I’m looking forward to the evening it to say the least!

Guests

On Monday we were invited to visit the Vatican’s Ambassador in Egypt (the papal nuncio) at the Vatican Embassy in Cairo on the island of Zamalak. As you might imagine this was a big deal.

A reminder for readers who have a hard time keeping track of the details of what I do in Egypt. St. Leo’s, the seminary where I teach, is a seminary of the Coptic Catholic Church. This means that the church has it’s own archbishop and it’s own rite of the mass, but it continues to relate with the Roman Catholic Church. So when the Vatican’s Ambassador comes to dine at the seminary, as he did a few weeks ago, or when he invites the seminary to a reception, it’s a big deal for my students and the priests at the seminary. As Samer, the student elected to share a greeting with ambassador, said in his remarks, “a visit to the embassy is for us a visit to the Vatican itself.”

It’s a little strange and surreal for this Lutheran pastor to be in a gathering of this nature. I do well within the context of the seminary and with my students to being open to finding the commonality in our faith. In this context we can engage in dialogue and discussions, ask questions, seek understanding and agree sometimes to disagree. But at times like this, when I’m exposed first hand to the hierarchy (and patriarchy) of the Roman Catholic Church it’s hard for me not to roll my eyes and make smart ass comments. My mother (and others) will be pleased to know that yesterday I neither rolled by eyes nor made any smart ass comments (at least not out loud). I only spoke when the Ambassador asked if priests were political. My response was a simple, “every parish pastor in the world has to be a politician.”

Mostly yesterday was a day I will remember because of what it meant for my students. They were so excited for this invitation, and not just because it meant they got out of study hall for the afternoon. They all dressed in black – clerics for some, dress blacks for others – and were on their best behavior. They took in every word the Ambassador spoke, even though many of them could not understand much of what he said. They noticed every action, every response, every movement and gesture – I didn’t know they could be so attentive. Some were disappointed and critical of what they experienced, but most of them were simply delighted.

Perhaps the most fun of the day was waiting in the garden in front of the Embassy right on the Nile while we waited to be received. The students took in the garden and the gorgeous view across the Nile of central Cairo. They enjoyed every flower and plant. They took it all in and were so grateful to be received.

Once again they taught me.

Monasteries

My colleague, Michael Calabria tells me that famed Egyptologist Howard Carter once said something like, “there’s something about Egypt that turns people toward solitude.” Perhaps this is the reason the solitary contemplative life – monasticism – was born by the Copts in the 3rd and 4th centuries. It must have been the environment that bred a desire for solitude because it’s hard to imagine what else could have drawn St. Paul of Thebes and St. Anthony the Great and so many others to the eastern desert. To be sure the landscape is beautiful. But even today the landscape is barren and desolate, except where monasteries have been developed over time. Over the centuries the eastern desert has been the wandering ground of the Bedouins who attacked and took control of the monasteries at various times, but other than random outposts, this land appears to be largely uninhabited and uninhabitable.

Yet early on in Christian history St. Paul and then St. Anthony made their way separately to the eastern desert and took up residence in small mountain caves. In these homes over the course of decades – 8 for St. Paul and 4 for St. Anthony – they prayed, they pondered and they lived in complete dependence on the mercy of a provident God.

The legend of St. Paul says he came to the desert around 250 AD to escape Roman persecution. He lived in the mountains of the desert in a cave near a clear spring and a palm tree, the leaves of which provided him with his clothing and the fruit of which provided him with his source of food until he was 43 years old, when a raven started bringing him half a loaf of bread daily. He remained in the cave for the rest of his life, almost a hundred years.

According to church teaching, Anthony the Great came to visit when Paul was 113. They were together for one day. When Anthony next visited him, Paul was dead. Anthony is said to have clothed him in a tunic presented by Athanasius of Alexandria and buried him, with two lions helping to dig the grave.

The legend of St. Anthony says that he came from a wealthy family. His parents died when he was a young man and left him with the care of an unmarried sister. In 285, at the age of 34, he decided to follow the words of Jesus, who said, “If you want to be perfect, go, sell what you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasures in heaven; and come, follow me.” Anthony took the words literally. He gave away some of his estate, sold the rest and donated the funds to the poor and became the disciple of a local hermit. Over time he made he made his way to the eastern desert where he found his own cave and source of water and lived a life of prayer and work. While he was not the first desert father, he is widely considered one of the “Fathers” of the monastic life that continues to thrive in Egypt. If I heard correctly, St. Anthony’s cave was the first place the others came to gather together and sought to live a monastic life in community.

St. Anthony’s monastery is a beautiful, large complex that is now home to around 120 Coptic Orthodox monks. Our guide on our tour was Abuna (Father) Ruwais a Coptic monk who looks a little like Santa Claus with his long white beard and who ran his tour with authority and conviction. He had no tolerance for those who lingered too long in any one spot, but was also sure to point out the good spots for photos along the way like any good Egyptian tour guide. Abuna Ruwais repeatedly emphasized that the monastery remains an active community of monastic life and was first and foremost a place for prayer. He didn’t let us get too loud along the way and he insisted on silence and prayer when we entered the chapel.

Somewhere along the way in the course of our tour I told the good Abuna that I also was an “abuna” after someone mentioned that I “worked for the church.” Initially he looked at me in dismay and reminded me that in all of scripture there are no woman priests. Over time he asked more questions and engaged me more in conversation. By the end of the day he had given me his card and was happy to take the almonds that I offered him.

Our visit to St. Paul’s was shorter and we did not have the same personality-filled guide as we had at St. Anthony’s. The priest at St. Paul’s was happy to speak in Arabic when he learned that there were those in the group who could translate and he used a red pointer to point to paintings and tell us when they were dated – “The angel Gabriel 17th century . . . St. George 16th century.”

St. Paul’s remains home to some 80 monks and as we toured the grounds we could hear them gathered for prayer and singing Coptic songs with the familiar sound of cymbals and triangles giving the rhythm.

The grounds at St. Paul’s were spread out and we only saw a fraction of the facility. There was a large beautiful modern church structure that appeared to quite new that I didn’t get to see. And as we were getting ready to leave I looked up in the mountains and noticed that there was a large mountainside building that appeared to be quite large. I didn’t get all the details but it sounded like that was the vision of one of the monks and has been worked on over time with the help of volunteers. It sounded like there were several church that had been built into the side of the mountain and other buildings as well.

All in a great day seeing new places and piquing my curiosity for more.

For some reason I'm only being allowed to post two photos. You can check out more of my pictures from St. Anthony's and St. Paul's on my Facebook page.

A Messenger from God

One morning this past week I was bemoaning the fact that we’ve not had my favorite fig jam at breakfast this year. Previous readers of my blog may remember a story from last year about “a messenger from God.” Well a messenger returned to my door on Thursday night. Once again I have been provisioned with fresh mangos and fig jam.

Read more.

Pilgrimage

I’m not sure what constitutes an “official” pilgrimage these days, but on Saturday I joined a group of 20 or so from St. Andrew’s in Cairo for a pilgrimage of sorts to the monasteries of St. Anthony and St. Paul, two of the world’s oldest monasteries located in Egypt’s eastern desert inland from the Red Sea.

Our drive (on a comfortable, air conditioned bus!) took us from central Cairo east to Ein Suknah and then south along the Red Sea. The monasteries are located inland many kilometers from the Red Sea in the desert mountains. Here’s some of what I saw along the way:

1. Streets filled with all kinds of people at 6 a.m. (!) on a Saturday morning walking, riding and driving to work. The Metro, which I thought would be empty, was not. Thankfully this meant that my favorite falafel stand next to the Metro was open as well so I could have a falafel sandwich for breakfast.
2. “Protesters” encamped at Tahrir Square, which we drove by on our way out of Cairo. I saw a variety of tents, signs and people. After clashes with the police earlier this week, news reports indicate that 5000 or so gathered on Friday to protest and re-establish their base. Those responsible for the 25 January Revolution are calling for renewed protests beginning on Friday, July 8. (I’m scheduled to leave that morning.) Some of the folks from St. Andrew’s had stopped by the square on Friday after church. They said the atmosphere was more festival-like than revolutionary. In true Egyptian fashion, people have set up stalls and are selling t-shirts, posters and bumper stickers.
3. Stands set up alongside of the road where men had coolers filled with fresh fish, presumably the morning catch from Red Sea.
4. An enormous wind farm, and by enormous I mean gigantic. It went on and on for miles and there were thousands of wind turbans. Further research leads me to believe that is was the Zafarana Wind Farm. It stretches from the city of Suez to the Hurghada, some 250 km. Wind is one of Egypt’s abundant resources, sun is the other.
5. Mile after mile of resort developments in varying states of completion with names like Cancun, Malibo, Hollywood Beach, and my favorite, Amexco. Most of these developments were on a narrow stretch of land between the highway and the Red Sea. Many of them appear to be intended to be high-end resort developments. While there were some enormous resorts and hotels along the way that were completed, fully developed and occupied, there appears to be thousands of resorts units under construction. It’s hard to believe that there are enough people in the world, to say nothing of Egypt, to meet the demand for Red Sea resort villas that developers believe exist. If you’re in the market for a partially-completed resort development, this could your chance.
6. A gorgeous mountain desert landscape in varying shades of red and white. With the deep blue of the Red Sea on one side, the rugged mountains on the other and a brilliant blue sky over the two it was pretty spectacular. At one point driving along the desolate road to one of the monasteries we crossed through a stretch of desert with a single tree growing in the middle of a wide expanse. As I saw it I was wondering if it was an example of a broom tree like the one that an exhausted Elijah sat under when he asked to die. As I continued looking I noticed a camel sitting in the shade of the tree. Despite what people think, camels are not a common sight in Egypt, except in tourist areas. I wish my camera had been out.
7. A brilliant sunset as we made our way back into Cairo. The entire expanse of western sky was shades of red and pink.

And that was just on the drive! More to come.

All Is Well

We have heard and read the news of recent clashes in Tahrir Square. We are monitoring the situation very closely. Rest assured that I am well and we are taking every possible precaution.

More later.

Mosques

This morning I visited two mosques – Sultan Hassan and Ibn Tulun – with my fellow teachers. It was my second visit to Sultan Hassan near the base of the Citadel. Sultan Hassan dates from about the 14th century and is a classic example of Mamluk mosque architecture. (If I looked at my notes, I could tell you the style characterics of Mamluk archicture, but I won’t bore you right now.) Suffice it to say it was beautiful and prayerful.

Today was my first visit to Ibn Tulun Mosque (pictured) which dates from the 10th century. In many ways it is much simpler in design and style than the Sultan Hassan Mosque, it is beautiful in it’s own way. The entire mosque covers about 6 ½ acres and is built around a large open-air tiled courtyard. But as I walked the perimeter of the courtyard and passed pillar after pillar supporting the roof I was immediately reminded of the Hypostile halls at the temples of Luxor with their enormous columns that reach up to the heavens. The same feeling came over me at Ibn Tulun as at Karnac Temple (pictured). It is as if the repeated architectural elements serve as a mantra for the mind that makes one more open to prayer.

I asked my colleague Michael who teaches Islamic Art and Architecture at St. Bonaventure University to explain to me the theological principles for mosque architecture. In short, because prayer is central to Islamic faith practice, mosques are intended to be places that direct one’s spirit to prayer. The open air features of the mosques in Egypt are not just a function of weather but are also intended to direct the prayer out of the self and into the created world where one encounters the God of creation.

It is hard to be in holy places – whether Christian or Muslim – and not have one’s soul directed toward the One God, maker of all things. The feeling of entering the courtyard of Ibn Tulun today was not unlike the first time I entered St. Paul’s Cathedral in London and had my breath taken away.

Today was a great reminder that it is a good thing when the people of this world put effort and energy into creating holy spaces to direct our minds to the Holy One.

Sick

I won’t bore you with the gory details of what lead up to this, suffice it to say that after two weeks of fighting a variety of cold symptoms that were not getting better I decided on Tuesday evening after dinner it was time to seek “real” medical advice (as opposed to the kind you get from an Egyptian pharmacist).

I’m not sure how things work for Egyptians when they get sick and need a doctor, I suspect their experience is different than mine, but this is how my evening went.

9:15 – Amy to Michael: I think I need to see a doctor. I’m not getting any better.
Michael to Amy: Let’s go find Abouna (Father) Andraous.

9:18 – Michael to Abouna Andraous: Amy feels that she needs to see a doctor.
Can you call Sister Pina and see if she might be able to get an appointment for her?
Abouna Andraous: Of course. I’ll call her right now.
He pulls out his phone, calls and reaches Sr. Pina. Arabic conversation ensues. . .
Abouna Andraous to Amy: Is tomorrow good for you?
Amy: Of course, anytime.
More Arabic to Sr. Pina
Abouna Andraous to Michael and I: Okay, we can go now.
Michael: Now?
Abouna Andraous: Yes, Now. Is that okay?
Amy: Ahh sure let me go get my bag.

9:22 – Abouna Andraous pulls up in a car and I get in the back seat, Michael comes along for moral support and sits in the front. We drive maybe 40 minutes to the Italian Hospital in a part of Cairo near the Citadel

10:05: we pull up to the closed gate of the hospital. A young man comes forward.
Abouna Andraous in Arabic: Sister Pina please.
Gate opens. We drive to and pull up in front of a small building. We wait a few minutes and then Sr. Pina arrives. I’m introduced to a doctor and he asks me to describe how I am feeling. He listens and then within a minute I’m in an exam room with the doctor, a nurse, Sister Pina and I think one other person. The exam begins. They take my blood pressure and temperature. The doctor begins to listen to my breathing. He looks at my throat and feels my glands. Within 2 minutes the exam is done, some Arabic conversation between various parties occurs, papers are scribbled on and then we are leaving that building and walking to another one.

10:15 – We arrive at a building. Sr. Pina rings a bell, says her name and the door opens. A man greets us and invites us to follow him. I’m taken to a place for a blood draw. Blood draw happens (painlessly I might add) and then we are told to wait for five minutes. We wait less than five minutes. Sr. Pina, Michael, Abouna Andraous and an orderly who speaks Italian are talking amongst themselves – at this point I’m neither sure of the language nor of what’s going on.

10:20 – Sr. Pina is given an envelope with papers in it and we leave and retrace our steps back to the original building. At some point in the midst of all of this, I’m told that my white blood cell count is high, indicating that I’m fighting some kind of bacterial infection. We enter the first building, Sr. Pina hands the papers to the doctor. He prescribes three medications and explains to Sr. Pina (in Arabic) what they are and the dosage. More Arabic and then the Doctor asks in Arabic while looking at me: Does she speak Arabic?
Sr. Pina (also in Arabic): No. English.
Doctor to me in English: Okay, you’re welcome.

I stand up, we say thank you to the doctor and goodbye to Sr. Pina, get in the car and reverse our route.

11:05 – Abouna Andraous pulls up to pharmacy, goes inside and comes back with an antibiotic and two other medicines.

11:15 – I’m in my room taking pills and going to bed.

That’s pretty much what it was like. Confusing, a little chaotic and incredibly fast. Now one of the clear morals of the story is, when you’re at the Italian Hospital in Cairo, if you want something to happen say “Sr. Pina” and doors literally open, and people move.

I should say Sr. Pina is an Italian nun who has spent decades living and working in Egypt. She teaches in our summer English program two days a week, but she is also one of the chief administrators at the Italian Hospital. Sr. Pina has a wonderful spirit and, as you can see, if you’re in need of health care in Cairo, Sr. Pina is the person to call.

After two doses of antibiotics I’m finally starting to feel better. I return to the Italian hospital on Friday night. I think they want to do another blood test to make sure the antibiotics are working. I know now to take a deep breath before I start and be ready to move. And if in doubt just say, “Sr. Pina, please.” (I even know how to say that in Arabic!)

The Niqab

I’m told by people that the veiling of women is a relatively recent phenomena in Egypt. In the 80s and 90s when Egyptian men started going to the Arab Gulf states to work in the oil fields they saw a more conservative form of Islam on display than they were familiar with in Egypt. As they witnessed the prosperity of the Gulf countries in contrast with their own national problems, some deduced that “a return to Allah” was needed to get their country on track. When they came home they brought with them this more conservative form of Islam including the hijab (veil) and niqab (full black covering) for their wives, daughters and sisters.

Today most women in Egypt are veiled, except Christians and foreigners, of course. Veils (hijab) are the predominant choice for most women. For many women, veils appear to be as much a fashion accessory, color coordinated to the rest of their wardrobe, as it is a show of modesty. The new style this year is to wear what looks to be several veils bunch in the back of a your head so that your outer veil stands out and you appear to have a mane like a lion. I’m not fond of this look.

Some women wear the full, flowing niqab. Many wear something between the two. Whether they wear a niqab or a hijab, most women are dressed with their arms covered to the wrist and wear long skirts or pants.

When I’m in Egypt I tend to dress pretty conservatively. I wear longish skirts or loose fitting pants. I wear t-shirts or tops that tend to be pretty plain and cover me up for the most part. Around Ma’adi it’s not uncommon for me to go out in short sleeves – that’s not an uncommon sight in this neighborhood. When I’m going to be in the sun or in other parts of the city I make sure my arms are covered. I try to dress in a way that doesn’t draw attention to myself or doesn’t look flashy. I am not a walking billboard that says, “look at me!!!”

Even so, a walk down the streets of Ma’adi can be pretty dehumanizing. I’ve long known and read about the issues with harassment of women in Egypt – it’s an enormous problem. There is a machismo that rules the street, not unlike other culture. I’ve experienced my fair share of stares, inappropriate “bumps” and comments over the years. Maybe I’m just more sensitized to this issue, but I must say that the attention seems worse this year. It seems I cannot walk down the street without hearing a comment. As I said, I’m not exactly a walking billboard. I don’t walk down the streets of Ma’adi like I would the streets of Geneva with my head held high meeting the looks of those I pass. I walk with my head down trying to be as small and inconspicuous as possible. It makes no difference. Men feel free to say or do whatever they want. (Understand that I’m not being personally threatened in any way.)

I said to my friend Michael the other day after another dehumanizing walk down the street, “I begin to understand why women wear the niqab.” Certainly a woman fully covered with her body indistinguishable and invisible below her outer garments signals “off limits” to those around her. Michael said that he has heard from women who have chosen to wear the niqab that they appreciate the freedom they have to move around when they are in the garment. Men don’t comment on what they don’t see and since the niqab is associated with a certain kind of Islamic piety that also signals “off limits” to men.

The question I continue to ask, however, is, “why is it a woman’s responsibility to present herself in a way that signals to men that she is off limits.” Why aren’t men responsible for guarding and guiding their own behavior and actions?

I don’t think a hijab or a niqab is the answer, but there must be a way for men and women to show mutual respect for the humanity of each other without resorting to elaborate cover-ups.

Al Masry Al Youm English is running a series of articles this month on sexual harassment in Egypt. Look here if you want to read more.

Lunch Politics

Lest you think I spend all of my time sitting around having erudite political discussions with my students let me assure that we spend an awful lot of time laughing as they relate silly stories about one another or joke with us. Egyptians LOVE to laugh and tell a good joke. I never laugh so much as I do when I am here. Politics was the topic of discussion on Saturday at lunch as well – though it was the politics of football (soccer). I can assure you that conversation was even more heated than the discussions related above. The students play football or volleyball a few days a week. It turns out Friday afternoon was the day for football. Shenouda is in charge of “sport” for the summer course and at lunch on Friday he announced who would be on the two teams – St. Peter and St. Paul (or as they say, “St. Beter and St. Baul.”

Discussion grew heated at lunch yesterday when Marco told me that the reason Shenuda’s team won on Friday was that he put all the good football players on one team and then made sure he was on that team. It was also suggested that Shenouda used his hands to position a ball, which then scored a goal. Well you would have thought that a new revolution erupted with the vehemence those around the table argued. But the arguing was heavily punctuated with good-natured insults and teasing. Shenouda claimed that he could not defend himself against these accusations because his English was not as good as Marco’s and he didn’t have the words he needed. In the end the argument ended in much laughter and much anticipation for the rematch on Monday. I’ll let you know what happens.

Breakfast Politics

I’ve been battling a severe cold the last few days so I’ve spent most of my time resting in my room when I’m not teaching. I’m feeling better this morning (Sunday) and am going to try and relate a few stories.

As you might guess from current affairs and as you’ve probably gathered from my previous blogs, talk of the Revolution, the new Egypt and politics is a regular topic of discussion with my students. At breakfast on Thursday morning talk of presidential elections in the US and Egypt dominated the conversation. One of my students asked if I thought Barack Obama would be re-elected. I explained the challenges that I think he faces. The interesting part of the conversation, however, was when a student said, “I do not like Barack Obama, when he speaks you can hear his words in two ways. From one side they are good words, but from the other side they are not. I preferred George Bush, even though I didn’t like what he did, because you knew what he stood for and what he thought.”

When I asked about the upcoming Egyptian presidential elections a more lively conversation ensued. One student, the student who has been most vocally in favor of the revolution, said that he wants (yes, he said “wants”) a member of the Muslim Brotherhood to be elected as the first president of the new Egypt. He admits this is a crazy idea for a Christian to espouse but his rationale was, “whoever is the first president of Egypt will have a very, very difficult time and will fail. If the one who fails is a member of the Muslim Brotherhood that will weaken the Brotherhood. Sure it will be difficult for a few years for Christians, but in the long run this would be better for Egypt.”

Another usually quiet student objected, “I disagree. This IS a crazy idea. If a Muslim Brotherhood person is elected president we risk the same government as in Iran.”

One of the pressing issues in Egyptian politics right now is which will come first, a new constitution or elections. It seems that most of my students would like to see the constitution re-written first with elections following. The risk if that does not happen is that those who are elected – likely to be members of the Muslim Brotherhood because of they are the best-organized political group – will be in the position to rewrite the constitution in a way that favors them and their positions. The Christians that I know are worried about that possibility.

The May/June issue of Foreign Affairs is all about the uprisings in the Middle East/North Africa. I’ve been working my way though it the last few days and have found the analysis both very accessible and thoughtful. Check it out if you want to learn more.

Revolution

25 January (as Egypt’s revolution is known here) has changed the landscape of Egypt, but not in the expected ways. To walk down the streets of Ma’adi you wouldn’t know that 5 months ago my students were keeping vigil at night on local streets to protect their neighborhood. Except for the Egyptian flags hanging from houses and the stripes of red, white and black painted everywhere, there is little evidence of a change in this land. But it doesn’t take long in discussion with my students to hear how a revolution has changed them and their perspectives.

This is evident in small ways from a new desire to understand current events, to learn about governments and discuss freedom. But it is also evident in large ways. One of my students has been transformed by 25 January. Two years ago he was one of the angriest and most obstinate students when we tried to introduce students to their own Egyptian history and culture through field trips to museums. He had no time for Egyptian history – not even his own Coptic history. He saw no purpose in any of it and participated only in a grudging manner.

In conversations with me other teachers it is clear that he has a new outlook. In his words to my colleague Michael, “25 January and the revolution was the first time in my life that I feel like I am an Egyptian. I understand now why you have tried to teach us about our history and our culture. Before I could not accept this because I did not think it was mine. But now I am Egyptian and this is my history.” It’s hard to describe what a sea change this is for this student.

In another conversation he related to me that he now understands that one of the great challenges that he will face as a priest in a new Egypt is how to work with and relate to young people. “They have said no to the authority of the government. They no longer want to accept the authority of the church. How will I be a priest? I used to think that the greatest challenge I would face is celibacy. No more. The greatest challenge I will face is how to relate to young people.”

The desert still spreads from here to the Atlantic and sand still covers unknown treasures. But the peaceful revolution that unfolded in Tahrir Square over 18 days in January and February has just begin to change the landscape of this land and the lives of Egyptians who are building their new future.

Sundays

Sundays are usually lazy days around the seminary. For the students, an 8 am Coptic Mass is followed by breakfast and then free time until 8 pm. Because today is Pentecost, the students will celebrate Mass this evening with the parish that worships in the large church at the seminary. Students spend their Sunday free time in a variety of activities – some visit family or friends who live in various parts of Cairo, some spend the day sleeping or watching television, still other run errands or explore neighborhoods with their friends.

For the teachers of the summer course Sunday morning often begins at Lucille’s Kitchen – a restaurant on Road 9 in Ma’adi that specialized in American-style breakfasts minus pork products (sigh ☹ – beef bacon and beef sausage is just NOT the same). Pancakes, French toast, omelettes, hashbrowns are served up along with 70s and 80s era country and pop music. Breakfast at Lucille’s often feels like stepping into a time warp – except for the very modern western prices for food!

Today after breakfast we headed north in Cairo and visited the Museum of Islamic Art – finally open after YEARS of renovations. It was worth the wait. We saw a glorious collection of Egyptian and Islamic art – ceremics, tile mosaics, wood and stone carvings, carpets, weavings, textiles, and much, much more. It was a nicely edited collection that gave us a flavor for the various influences that have shaped Islamic art over centuries, but was not overwhelming as is sometimes the case with Egyptian museums where treasures are piled one on top of each other. There was one especially stunning carpet – maybe 10 or 11 feet by 18 feet – that I would have been happy to bring home! Don’t worry Hans, it’s still there.

On our walk to the Metro station after our museum visit we saw an armored personal carrier outfitted with soldiers and guns parked on the street. That is the first evidence of overt military presence that we have seen anywhere in the city. It was a little disconcerting to be sure. Somehow loaded automatic weapons don’t make me feel safer.

This Sunday afternoon was also a time for reading and a little rest. Tonight I will begin preparing for my classes which don’t begin until Tuesday.

It’s great to have the students back at seminary – though it would have been okay had they not decided to start rearranging furniture at 11:30 last night! I’m eager to begin my fifth summer English course. Starting tomorrow the days will go so very very fast.

Welcomed

It’s always a joy to be welcomed by friends when you return from a long absence. That is the welcome I have received over the last few days from priests and students who have begun returning to the seminary. It is another thing to be remembered and welcomed by acquaintances that I encounter less frequently. Those welcomes have also begun. On Wednesday afternoon shortly after arriving, Michael and I went to our favorite coffee shop. The folks behind the counter warmly welcomed me back to Egypt. Each day as we return, familiar faces see us and extend a warm welcome and greeting.

Yesterday when I attended St. Andrew’s, immediately members of the community greeted me and remembered my time with them last summer. After worship we gathered in the Guild Hall for coffee and cookies and those who remembered me came to say their hellos, and those who didn’t know me introduced themselves. Hospitality at it’s finest! Today I dropped some laundry off at the dry cleaners and the beautiful young woman who works behind the desk beamed a huge smile when she saw me and wrote “Ms. Emy” on my slip.

It is good to be remembered!

Cairo

Thursday (9 June) was a day for settling in. Along with three of my fellow teachers – Michael, Dea and Ian – we spent the morning navigating our way up and down Road 9 in Ma’adi to purchase some basics for our time here. We ended up at our favorite Greco Café for coffee and air conditioning – not necessarily in that order.

It was hot today. A dry hot wind blew hot air up and down the long halls of the seminary so that it felt a little like a furnace when you walked outside of your room. Baptism by heat, I guess.

Late this afternoon the four of us

made our way by metro to Sadat Station where we exited at Tahrir Square. My favorite picture (which I’ll try to post) was a graffiti-ed wall across the green from where we were standing that said “Enjoy the Revolution!” It was amazing to think of how over the course of a few weeks that relatively small stretch of green became the birthplace of a new Egypt – one that’s still struggling to be born.

What was most amazing to me today was the scene on the walls at the Sadat Metro station. As we exited the station there was a long hallway covered with pictures from the revolution. And another wall was covered with various paintings, photographs and other artistic expressions inspired by recent events. What struck me in this is that everywhere you go in Egypt you see references to history – usually ancient, pharaonic history. This is the first time that I recall seeing artistic reference to modern Egyptian history. It was quite moving. There was a palpable sense that people are very proud of what they’ve accomplished (and also that there is a long way to go).

In addition to our visit to Tahrir Square we strolled over to the bridge along the Nile and grabbed dinner in the city. By the time we started to make our way back, night had come and the energy and electricity in the city came alive! Cairo really is a remarkable, energy-filled city. It’s amazing to behold the juxtapositions of old and new, ancient and modern that are everywhere.

I hear the echoes of the final prayer of the day. It’s 8:30 p.m. or so local time as I write this. Time for me to clean up, read a bit and crash for the night. Hoping to worship at St. Andrew’s, Cairo in the morning. Always grateful for this opportunity.

Arrived!

Thought I’d share a few quick thoughts and impressions now that I’ve been on the ground for a full six and half hours! It’s nearly 10 pm in Cairo as I write this. It’s been dark already for 3 hours. Sunset came an hour earlier than in the past because Egypt has cancelled daylight savings time. That means that it’s dark by 7:30 and I expect it will be full daylight by 5 am!

I arrived in Cairo about 3:30 this afternoon a little later than scheduled. We had some drama on the plane departing from Amsterdam. As we were taxiing to take off a man in the back of the plane stood up and wouldn’t return to his seat when instructed by the flight attendants. After several stern warnings the flight attendant announced that we would be returning to the gate because this passenger would no longer be traveling with us to Cairo. At the gate two armed security men and others came on the plane and escorted the man off. We then waited for quite some time while they removed all the baggage from the plane to ensure that they had gotten this man’s bags and then refueled the plane. We finally left around 11:30 local time (2 hours after scheduled departure) and arrived in Cairo around 3:30. I had a pretty quick time getting through passport control and getting my baggage. Monsour, the seminary’s driver, met me and we were at the seminary by 5:30.

My friend Michael greeted me with the news that while his person had arrived in Cairo on Tuesday evening, his luggage had not. I put down my things (there was some confusion about rooms until after dinner) and we headed out to Greco for a little afternoon coffee. We also made a quick trip down Road 9 to the Mobilnil store so I could get my sim card and it gave me a chance to check out the main drag of our part of Ma’adi.

For the most part things in Ma’adi look pretty much the same as always. What we noticed in our walk were many houses (especially the large, fancy ones!) and businesses flying the Egyptian flag. This is a display of national pride that I’m not sure I’ve ever seen before. Every year I arrive in Ma’adi I notice that things have changed – businesses come and go – but usually things have a looked a little better each year. I’m not sure that’s the case this year. I noticed a little more garbage littering the streets and more yard waste. Who knows if that’s simply the impressions of a day or if that sense will stick over time. For the most part though walking around Ma’adi had the same feel as always: lots of cars on little one-lane streets, lots of honking horns.

My goal was to stay awake until 9:30 and my laptop now says it’s 10:06 so I’m off to brush my teeth, take my nighttime cold medicine and hope for a long, uninterrupted, deep night of sleep.

Thanks for you prayers and well wishes for a safe journey. I’ve grateful!

More to come!

P.S. My nighttime cold medicine worked the trick. I was out until 6 am!

Changes

I leave for my fifth summer in Egypt on June 7. I'm eager to get on the ground and see what impact a revolution, a regime change and sectarian violence are having on the people and places that I know well. I find myself thinking these days about the beautiful young women who work at the dry cleaners who always greet me and remember my name after an 11-month absence. I wonder how this year has changed them. Will I notice or have a chance to learn how the changes in their country are affecting them in their daily lives? I wonder how the growing sectarian violence is impacting my students as they prepare for their calling as priests in the Coptic Catholic Church.

I'm thinking also about the changes I've experienced in the past year: a new knee as well as my own personal and professional challenges and changes. I am not the same person returning to Egypt this year either. How will the changes that I've experienced affect me as I encounter this familiar, yet strange, place?

Some of you in asking about my travel plans have expressed concern for my safety. Please be assured that I have consulted diligently with people I know on the ground - Egyptians and westerners. I've been given multiple assurances that the area around the seminary remains quite safe. Of course, I will be on heightened alert and awareness this summer. I will be more cautious than I have been in the past. My fellow teachers and I have agreed that if any of us feel unsafe or uncomfortable in Egypt we will work to facilitate a prompt return.

While I expect to encounter many changes this year, what I don't expect to see changed are the warm smiles of my students when they return to the seminary. I don't expect that I'll see a loss of curiosity or an eager desire to learn to communicate in a new language. I don't expect that I will experience one bit of change in the great hospitality and kindness that I have come to know from the Egyptian people.

As always, I'll do my best to share some of my stories and pictures along the way. Your prayers are always appreciated!

Reflections on the News

I usually limit my blogging to my time in Egypt. But the abundance of news over the last 10 days related the the New Year's Eve bombing outside a Coptic church in Alexandria and the response that has flowed from that has been weighing on my heart and mind. Writing seems like a good way to reflect.

I preface my reflections by saying that I'm not an expert on Egyptian society, culture or history. But, as readers of this blog know, I've spent a month or so for the last four summers teaching English at a Coptic Catholic Seminary in Ma'adi, a suburb of Cairo. (A reminder to you, all Christians in Egypt are considered Copts, not all Copts are orthodox.) Over the last four years I have come to know a small community of Egyptian students and priests, and through them, a broader community of ordinary Egyptians. I have my own experiences of Egyptian culture from my daily life in Egypt, but much of how I see Egypt is shaped by the ways that I experience it through my friends.

For the last week I've been wondering what my Egyptian friends would say about the New Year's Eve bombing and the protests that erupted in Egypt in the days that followed leading up to the Coptic Christmas Eve celebration on January 6. Other than seeing a few Facebook posts in English, I've not had contact with my students. I've sent messages to let them know they are in my thoughts and prayers, but I've not had a chance to talk with any of them about these events.

The stories of Muslims holding candlelight vigils and serving as human shields around Christian churches celebrating Christmas Eve are powerful witnesses to what can happen when we recognize our shared humanity. They are stories worth repeating and holding up for others to see and be inspired by. I have no doubt this happened in Cairo and Alexandria - in larger more cosmopolitan cities. But I wonder what it was like in other cities and villages throughout Upper Egypt with Christian populations where ordinary people gathered to sing with the cymbals, inhale the incense and hear their priests proclaim that Christ is born!

I suspect that in those places stories of human shields are nice, but they don't change the reality that young people can't find work and so they are risking their lives to go elsewhere -- anywhere -- to try and make a life for themselves and support a family. They don't change the reality that Christians in Egypt must claim their faith on identity cards which then limit their access to schools, jobs and opportunities. They don't change the reality that the land where God sent Joseph, Mary and the baby Jesus for safekeeping from Herod's wrath, is a place that verges on inhospitable to any but the "haves" who continue to have more and more.

Stories of human shields provide a powerful witness to what humans who recognize shared humanity are capable of. They are stories worth repeating. But they can't be the only stories we tell. In Egypt and across the globe, there remains a fundamental need for economic and social justice and equality for all people.

Human shields that enable Christians or Muslims or Jews or Buddhists or Seihks to worship in their chosen worship spaces for their given festivals are wonderful. But human shields don't change the fact that God's kingdom has not come when people are divided rich from poor, haves from have-nots, right from wrong.

By all means, tell the stories of human shields whose act of solidarity marked a shared humanity that makes us all pause. But don't stop there. Please learn where injustice exists in your own communities and in nations across the world and tell those stories. In so-doing, we can all become repairers of the breach and be bearers of a new day . . . a new kingdom.

Salaam