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!
Monday, May 23, 2011
Monday, January 10, 2011
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
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
Friday, July 23, 2010
Previous Blogs
If you'd like to read blog entries from previous years visit: www.mytb.org/Amy-in-Egypt.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Home 2010:17
I arrived home shortly after 11 this morning. Hans had to return to work, so I’ve been trying to keep myself busy to stay awake today. Part of keeping busy meant running some errands like picking up drying cleaning I’d dropped off a month ago.
When I walked into the dry cleaner, the woman who always helps called out my name. “Hi Amy, how are you?” We did our business. It was nice to be remembered after a month away. It’s one of the ways that I know that I’m home.
Here’s the thing, yesterday before I left Cairo I went to the local dry cleaner where I occasionally take clothing that needs a real cleaning (and not just hand washing). I paid for my laundry and then said goodbye. “I’ll see you next summer, in sh’Allah.”
Next June, in sh’Allah, I’ll walk into the dry cleaner to drop off a few things. I’ll receive a warm smile from the beautiful woman who works behind the counter and without missing a beat she’ll take out a slip and write, “Ms. Emy” without asking my name. I know this will happen because for the last three years when I return after my 11 month absence, this is what happens. It’s one of the ways that I know I’m home when I arrive in Cairo as well.
This is one of the small ways, day in and day out, that I experience the fullness of God’s blessing in my life. I hope you know these blessings too.
When I walked into the dry cleaner, the woman who always helps called out my name. “Hi Amy, how are you?” We did our business. It was nice to be remembered after a month away. It’s one of the ways that I know that I’m home.
Here’s the thing, yesterday before I left Cairo I went to the local dry cleaner where I occasionally take clothing that needs a real cleaning (and not just hand washing). I paid for my laundry and then said goodbye. “I’ll see you next summer, in sh’Allah.”
Next June, in sh’Allah, I’ll walk into the dry cleaner to drop off a few things. I’ll receive a warm smile from the beautiful woman who works behind the counter and without missing a beat she’ll take out a slip and write, “Ms. Emy” without asking my name. I know this will happen because for the last three years when I return after my 11 month absence, this is what happens. It’s one of the ways that I know I’m home when I arrive in Cairo as well.
This is one of the small ways, day in and day out, that I experience the fullness of God’s blessing in my life. I hope you know these blessings too.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Welcome to Luxor! 2010:16
Friday evening Jen and I flew to Luxor for a short visit before our return home (Hans flew home on Saturday). It was a hectic evening as it was also the evening of the final party of the summer course. As usual we sat down for dinner at 8 and when the turkey (yes turkey!) was finished the festivities began. The plan was for me to say goodbye and for the teachers to make a presentation to Abuna Esshak before our departure but it all became a bit rushed. So I made a very hasty goodbye to my students and then we were off to the airport. I think our driver from the seminary could sense the tension in the car and so to lighten the mood he changed the radio station. For 10 minutes we drove along the freeways of Egypt with an disco-mix of Christmas music (including Felize Navidad) blaring on the car radio and our driver yelling and making gestures out his window at the trucks and cars that raced past us. All you could do was laugh.
We made it though the airport easily and our plane left as scheduled at 11:50 pm. We were scheduled to arrived in Luxor at 12:50 am and we had arranged through a friend for a driver to pick us up at the airport and take us to our hotel. We were to look for a man with a sign. We got our bags and proceeded outside. No man. No sign. We waited. I called. He was on his way. (There had been some confusion about our arrival - mish mushkilla - no problem!)
The Luxor airport isn’t very busy so most everyone cleared out in 20 minutes our so. Jen and I waited – the only women anywhere. We tried to figure out where to sit. A well-lit area next to the driveway looked like a good spot and so we proceeded. To say that we were conspicuous and attracted the attention of everyone in the vicinity is perhaps an understatement. Now to be clear, we were not in danger, no one would have dared approach us. But we were the focus of much attention and conversation. At one point, Jen asked, “How will our driver know how to find us or where to look for us?” My response, “Trust me Jen, everyone at the Luxor airport knows how to find us!”
He came and we made our way to the hotel arriving around 2:30 am. It was a short night as we had made arrangements to leave for the West Bank of Luxor at 7:30, but the adventure had begun!
More stories and pictures to come.
P.S. We're back in Cairo. We'll make a quick return trip to the Egyptian Museum today before heading home tonight.
We made it though the airport easily and our plane left as scheduled at 11:50 pm. We were scheduled to arrived in Luxor at 12:50 am and we had arranged through a friend for a driver to pick us up at the airport and take us to our hotel. We were to look for a man with a sign. We got our bags and proceeded outside. No man. No sign. We waited. I called. He was on his way. (There had been some confusion about our arrival - mish mushkilla - no problem!)
The Luxor airport isn’t very busy so most everyone cleared out in 20 minutes our so. Jen and I waited – the only women anywhere. We tried to figure out where to sit. A well-lit area next to the driveway looked like a good spot and so we proceeded. To say that we were conspicuous and attracted the attention of everyone in the vicinity is perhaps an understatement. Now to be clear, we were not in danger, no one would have dared approach us. But we were the focus of much attention and conversation. At one point, Jen asked, “How will our driver know how to find us or where to look for us?” My response, “Trust me Jen, everyone at the Luxor airport knows how to find us!”
He came and we made our way to the hotel arriving around 2:30 am. It was a short night as we had made arrangements to leave for the West Bank of Luxor at 7:30, but the adventure had begun!
More stories and pictures to come.
P.S. We're back in Cairo. We'll make a quick return trip to the Egyptian Museum today before heading home tonight.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Made Visible 2010:15
I sat in a circle Wednesday night at the side of a Coptic Catholic bishop in a circle of Roman Catholics from Italy and Coptic Catholics from Egypt and witnessed the movement of the Holy Spirit. The Italians sang, “O Sole Mio” and “Regina Coeli.” The Copts sang their own spiritual hymns. I sat there amazed to be sitting in this circle, amazed to see the body of Christ in such fullness.
At one point I was asked to speak. I’m old hat to the Egyptians by now (I love that they are showing the way for the Italians in this regard), but to the Italians I am an oddity. I spoke briefly. I was introduced at 9:26 and the World Cup Semi finals began at 9:30 (I’m not stupid. I learned long ago that you don’t separate men from their sports!) so I said very simply: “I will not be the one to keep you from football. I’m honored and humbled to be a part of this gathering. I’m a Lutheran pastor from America. I’m happy to answer any questions you might have. I’m at a loss for words, but it’s clear to me that the Holy Spirit is present in this circle tonight and I believe that the body of Christ is being seen in it’s fullness.”
When all the words had been spoken and the cake had been rolled out and cut, I was approached by a handful of Italians who had dozens of questions. When do we worship? Where do I serve? What is the religious situation in America? Forgive me, but who pays your salary? What do you wear? How often do you celebrate the mass?
The conversation continued and I said again and again, “I think you would find that in many, many ways Lutherans and Catholics have very similar understandings.”
“But you are a women. And we don’t ordain women.”
“Yes. This is one difference. But in many, many ways we are very similar.
“And you are married?”
“Okay, this is another difference. But in many, many ways we are very similar.”
So I guess we DO still have significant differences to overcome, but still by the end of the evening we had exchanged names and contact information and agreed to be facebook friends! Hans and I have an invitation to Southern Italy to visit my new companions.
When the Holy Spirit came at Pentecost, it came like a rush of wind. More often in the book of Acts (as well as my own life) the Spirit comes in whispers and nudges. Tonight I witnessed the Spirit not in a rush or a whisper, but in songs, in questions, in conversation, in curiosity. This too is the Spirit work here in Egypt, and everywhere.
At one point I was asked to speak. I’m old hat to the Egyptians by now (I love that they are showing the way for the Italians in this regard), but to the Italians I am an oddity. I spoke briefly. I was introduced at 9:26 and the World Cup Semi finals began at 9:30 (I’m not stupid. I learned long ago that you don’t separate men from their sports!) so I said very simply: “I will not be the one to keep you from football. I’m honored and humbled to be a part of this gathering. I’m a Lutheran pastor from America. I’m happy to answer any questions you might have. I’m at a loss for words, but it’s clear to me that the Holy Spirit is present in this circle tonight and I believe that the body of Christ is being seen in it’s fullness.”
When all the words had been spoken and the cake had been rolled out and cut, I was approached by a handful of Italians who had dozens of questions. When do we worship? Where do I serve? What is the religious situation in America? Forgive me, but who pays your salary? What do you wear? How often do you celebrate the mass?
The conversation continued and I said again and again, “I think you would find that in many, many ways Lutherans and Catholics have very similar understandings.”
“But you are a women. And we don’t ordain women.”
“Yes. This is one difference. But in many, many ways we are very similar.
“And you are married?”
“Okay, this is another difference. But in many, many ways we are very similar.”
So I guess we DO still have significant differences to overcome, but still by the end of the evening we had exchanged names and contact information and agreed to be facebook friends! Hans and I have an invitation to Southern Italy to visit my new companions.
When the Holy Spirit came at Pentecost, it came like a rush of wind. More often in the book of Acts (as well as my own life) the Spirit comes in whispers and nudges. Tonight I witnessed the Spirit not in a rush or a whisper, but in songs, in questions, in conversation, in curiosity. This too is the Spirit work here in Egypt, and everywhere.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Girl Power 2010:14
I’ve always known there’s a reason why God made us with different gifts and abilities, but I’ve seen again why it matters.
Many of you know that Hans, my husband, and Jen, my sister, arrived last week. They’re presence has been great. It’s really fun to share Egypt with someone for the first time and to see it again through her eyes. Some of you know my sister, and if you don’t let me just say that we’re about as different as two people can be – at least by external measures.
I’m a girly girl – Jen is not. Some of you might remember a comment I posted on facebook a few months back about how there’s nothing like a new pair of black pumps to make you feel like a girl. My sister Jen would NEVER say those words, let alone think them. You get the drift.
So I’ve been trying to explain to my students that my sister is different from me. So the line I’ve come up with is, “She’s an athlete.” (Even Level 1 knows all of these words!) So last night they asked her, “Will you play volleyball with us?”
She doesn’t really like volleyball but who can turn up an invitation like that. So she said yes. I went down to watch (in my ever-present skirt!)
May I just say that Jen ROCKED! She served out the first game with something like 10 straight points. It was beautiful watching the opposing team increasingly frustrated and unable to return a single serve. Her team just got more and more proud every point. By the end of her fifth straight point everyone could say “Jen” as opposed to the more common pronunciation “Jeanne” (ala francaise).
What was even more beautiful were the four level one students who came and sat with Jen and I at breakfast this morning and began to ask her more questions about her athletic prowess. When I told them that in America she was a coach – a leader of a team – they’re eyes got big and they were impressed. Atef asked if he could be her assistant.
Walls are chipped away in all sorts of ways - sometimes in words spoken at a worship service, sometimes in games played on a court. In this way my sister and I share MUCH in common.
Many of you know that Hans, my husband, and Jen, my sister, arrived last week. They’re presence has been great. It’s really fun to share Egypt with someone for the first time and to see it again through her eyes. Some of you know my sister, and if you don’t let me just say that we’re about as different as two people can be – at least by external measures.
I’m a girly girl – Jen is not. Some of you might remember a comment I posted on facebook a few months back about how there’s nothing like a new pair of black pumps to make you feel like a girl. My sister Jen would NEVER say those words, let alone think them. You get the drift.
So I’ve been trying to explain to my students that my sister is different from me. So the line I’ve come up with is, “She’s an athlete.” (Even Level 1 knows all of these words!) So last night they asked her, “Will you play volleyball with us?”
She doesn’t really like volleyball but who can turn up an invitation like that. So she said yes. I went down to watch (in my ever-present skirt!)
May I just say that Jen ROCKED! She served out the first game with something like 10 straight points. It was beautiful watching the opposing team increasingly frustrated and unable to return a single serve. Her team just got more and more proud every point. By the end of her fifth straight point everyone could say “Jen” as opposed to the more common pronunciation “Jeanne” (ala francaise).
What was even more beautiful were the four level one students who came and sat with Jen and I at breakfast this morning and began to ask her more questions about her athletic prowess. When I told them that in America she was a coach – a leader of a team – they’re eyes got big and they were impressed. Atef asked if he could be her assistant.
Walls are chipped away in all sorts of ways - sometimes in words spoken at a worship service, sometimes in games played on a court. In this way my sister and I share MUCH in common.
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