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Press Review of Nag Hamadi — Part Two

In an effort to keep you up-to-date with the news, I will continue to post the media summaries we provide as long as the subject is dominating the Egyptian press. As you read in the last update, it is difficult to sift the wheat from the chaff in these reports. The true and accurate often stands side-by-side with the exaggerations and inventions, and it is hard to know which is which. Right now, it is important just to listen and record. If we are able to investigate this situation further, these reports will be the foundation from which we can ask further questions. If any of you have the time to help us play detective, please feel free to read along and keep track of the names, crimes, insinuations, and accusations. Other perspectives are always helpful.

Click here for the link. Thank you.

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Press Review of Nag Hamadi

We hope you have enjoyed our accounting of Coptic Christmas; there is still one more day to come, and hopefully some pictures to be shared thereafter. In the background of our Christmas stories, however, has been the events of Nag Hamadi, in which six Christians and a Muslim policeman were killed in a drive-by shooting while exiting the Christmas Eve mass. The incident has received international attention, and has dominated the Egyptian media consciousness in the days which have followed.

Our work at Arab West Report translates articles from the Egyptian newspapers and provides detailed summary thereof. In addition, we review these articles as necessary to provide fact checks and analysis. Due to the sheer number of articles on this topic, however, we have instead provided a press review, which we often do when there is a topic which dominates the news. This press review summarizes all the relevant articles from the major newspapers and combines them in one report. This manner of summary allows all voices to be heard, no matter how contradictory. This sampling may not clarify our understanding—our minds prefer a simple sound bite we can digest and process—but it does establish the complexity of the situation. It is hoped that by beginning from complexity clarity can emerge.

I have provided a link here to the press review. The assembly and analysis you will read is not my personal work, rather, it is that of my colleagues. The larger question for us here is what can we do about this? Do we have a role in encouraging reconciliation in the area? If so, how and when? I cannot say we have the answers to these questions yet, and even when we do, it may take a while to share them. I will look to link to further press reviews as we develop them, however, that you can follow along. If you care also to pray for peace in this region, and wisdom for us on how to contribute, that would be greatly appreciated.

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Coptic Christmas: Day Two

The lack of sleep did cost us the next morning, though, as we were due to pay a visit to the area bishop for breakfast at 8:00am sharp. In the Coptic Orthodox Church the bishop is only one level below the pope, and carries great authority and responsibility. Christmas duties pressed on everyone, but he allowed us about an hour of his time, and the exchange of greetings was necessary on both sides. For us and the priest, it would have been an offence if we did not honor him with a visit, however short. The same would have applied if he failed to receive the foreign visitors in his area. Needing to receive the governor in only an hour, however, he allowed us a few questions, gave us Christmas gifts of wooden and cloth crosses in addition to an icon of the Virgin Mary, and allowed us our leave. The priest himself was due at his church in the village, so we left promptly.

The responsibilities, however, were simple. All he had to do was sit in his office and receive Christmas greetings. It made for little conversation as every two minutes in the morning another child would enter, kiss his hand, and then leave. This continued for about two hours, interspersed with a phone call of Christmas greetings every minute in between. It was somewhat boring, to tell the truth, but it was a complete cultural experience.

All during this time the church grounds were an open playground. As parents enjoyed a morning of rest their kids gathered and exploded miniature firecrackers one after the other. They were clearly enjoying themselves, but as I sat in the office I could only imagine the chaos outside, except for when the kids threw their fireworks inside. Surrounded by walls, the noise was deafening, but the priest did not seem to mind at all. I got increasingly perturbed, but what can you do when this is normal and accepted behavior? I have noticed that priest may have a slight hearing problem; after twenty-plus years of service, these bi-yearly celebrations can perhaps take their toll. My imagination of the chaos, however, can be presented as reality by Julie, who was outside with the girls, and will take over the authorship of this next session.

I don’t think Emma enjoyed herself too much.  I wasn’t exactly sure what it meant that we would go sit at the church and “play” all day.  I knew Emma liked to play with kids, but the sheer number of the kids would probably overwhelm her.  What I imagined came true.  We arrived to a crowd of children, dressed in their new Christmas clothes.  They surrounded our car, knocking on the windows and holding out bags of chips to our children who were behind the closed windows.  It really felt like a Hollywood star experience, and we were the celebrities.  As we entered the courtyard through the church gates, the kids followed the car.  We parked and got out and they just kind of stared and smiled at us as we exited the car.  I offered typical Christmas greetings, “May you be well all year,” as I carried Hannah and Jayson carried Emma.  Wherever we walked with them, the kids followed, not saying much, but not leaving us alone either.  Emma was overwhelmed, but handling it okay.  Jayson and the priest went into the office, and told us we could play out in the courtyard.  So, holding Emma’s hand, and Hannah in the other arm, we walked around, surrounded by kids.  We eventually went to a ledge that was in the sun and sat down in the warmth.  The kids surrounded us, some of them saying in English, “What’s your name?” or, “How are you?” to the girls, and not getting much of a response.  The firecrackers either started then or else that was when we noticed them, and from that moment on, Emma’s hands were up on her ears every time she was outside the office.  It probably looked kind of funny to the kids, but I felt bad for her.  They offered her the firecrackers; I’m not sure what their thought was: Does she hold it as its lit and then throw it, or is it just something for her to hold in her hand?  I kept refusing and told the kids that she doesn’t like noise; it scares her and hurts her ears.  This seemed a foreign concept to them.  They offered chips or cookies, which was about the only thing the girls responded to positively.  They asked me their names and I told them.  An older girl asked if I knew a certain game, and I didn’t understand her.  She said they wanted the girls to play with them.  I said, “Okay, we can try.  If you all start playing, the older one may join you.”  But everyone just stood there.  I wasn’t sure what they wanted us to do.  How do fifty children play exactly?  I didn’t see a ball and it didn’t seem they were going to organize a big game, yet, we had the directive to “play.”  One of the older boys started trying to disperse the crowd to go play so maybe we could move around or get up, so I took both girls by the hands, well, Emma by the elbow because her hand was covering her ears, and we walked around the courtyard, looking for people playing, yet still being followed by a crowd of children who were NOT playing.  The noise of the firecrackers was really getting to Emma, and at some points, the kids would throw the lit noisemaker near us.  I don’t really think it was malicious, but it did seem intentional.  I think it just enthralled them to see someone so affected by the noise, as they obviously weren’t.  Emma said she wanted to go to daddy, so we all went into the office, where we finally could sit in peace for a bit.  For the next few hours, we either sat in the office, where we usually had some sort of snack from someone, or we walked around the courtyard, Hannah’s hand and Emma’s elbow in my hands, walking around, followed by children and the sound of firecrackers.  When it got too much, we would reenter the office and sit for awhile again.  After awhile, the thought of “playing” all day at the church, didn’t sound too fun!

Ok, Jayson is back. Around noon the priest’s brother came into the office and offered to take us to his house in the village where we were to have lunch around 3:00pm. That seemed a very good idea for the girls, but I thought it best that I stay there in the office. I walked with them to his home, about five minutes away, to keep all propriety, promising the priest I would be back shortly. All seemed fine with the brother’s family, and by the time I came back the ATM had opened. The priest had stacks of bills which he was distributing one by one as each child entered, kissed his hand, and received his $0.045 cents. This apparently was a custom for the holidays.

When this ended the sitting became much more enjoyable. The men of the village now came to pay their Christmas greetings, and several of them would sit and talk for a while, especially the ones who were working abroad or in Cairo and came home for the occasion. I even met someone who was working in Jordan, as a gardener in the church we worshiped in way back when. Many of these people only return home once a year, but some can come more frequently. It is especially hard because most have left their families in the home village.

Julie and the girls were able to take a nap before lunch, and I took mine afterwards. By this time, though, the news was filling the village. Six Christians were gunned down as they existed Christmas mass. Not everyone really knew what was going on, but all expressed concern, though not surprise. Many Christians have surrendered themselves to the idea that the country is against them, and this was just the latest confirmation. Even at that early point, however, there were complicating features, or at least rumors. This event was said to be connected to an ongoing controversy related to a nearby village, in which a Christian was said to have raped a Muslim girl, and the Muslims then responded against the Christians at large as the perpetrator of the crime escaped. In Upper Egypt the practice of revenge killings is not uncommon, and this may have been a continuation. Or, it may have been terrorism clear and simple. ‘Terrorists’ was the word on most of the Christians’ lips.

After lunch ended we left the village, returning to Maghagha, and things were quiet as the priest had to leave for family responsibilities, allowing me to write much of this summary. We had dinner earlier that night, at around 11:00pm, but we had put the girls to bed around 9:00pm. With a full stomach once again we weren’t much in the mood for sleep, and enjoyed good theological conversation until 2:00am, taking full advantage of our time together. It was another long but good day, but with a pall over the events of the day.

The events also could threaten us, as surely the security would be increased throughout the country. Would we be able to continue our program? The next day we were to visit two places reputed to be visited by the Holy Family during their escape to Egypt, and another place which was a pilgrimage site for a modern day saint. Would we be sent home immediately? Would we be confined to the priest’s home? There was no worry about safety whatsoever, but as we finally did collapse into sleep, there were concerns aplenty. The ones highlighted here in this last paragraph pertain to us, but may our prayers highlight those concerns of the country, pertaining to all.

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A Coptic Christmas of Joy and Sorrow

There is complicating news today. It is significant enough that you may already know about it. Six Christians and a policeman were killed today in an ambush as they were exiting midnight mass in an Upper Egyptian town to the north of Luxor. I wish to be careful in conveying information because I have been far from the news in our relative isolation in Maghagha, over ten hours away from the attack, but it has been the talk of the community since we awoke this morning.

Our day began in Maadi, as we fought through Cairo traffic to get to the train station in Giza. We left a full hour to arrive, thinking this would be plenty as the station is just on the other side of the Nile River. We should have known better. We left on the 6th of January, a Wednesday, but in addition to all the Christians who would be in transit to get to their homes and churches, there was weekend traffic with which to contend. Coptic Christmas, the 7th of January, is a national holiday, so whereas Thursday night is often prime traffic with the Friday-Saturday weekend, Christmas led to a three day weekend for the entire country, and it seemed like the nation had emptied onto the streets.

We did arrive on time, but with only about fifteen minutes to spare. We appeared to be the only foreigners at the location, asked about how and where to board the train, had a policeman direct us informing him we were traveling to Maghagha, and settled into our seats, which were reserved by number. The train was very comfortable and we by coincidence sat next to another couple also traveling to Maghagha, and enjoyed pleasant conversation with them the entire two and a half hour journey.

Upon our arrival I am afraid we may have offended some. It was fairly comical, at least from our perspective. It is a bit complicated to descend from a train with two small children, a pack-and-play, suitcase, and backpack, but we managed, and it was no surprise to find a willing porter ready to help us with our bags. If any of you would wish to visit us, please be prepared for this at the airport. They can be friendly, helpful, and by comparison inexpensive, but they can also be insistent.

The first thing we should have noticed is that this porter was not very insistent. He offered to help me with the suitcase, and per custom I refused, with a quick ‘no thank you’, barely an exchange of glances, and began advancing. It may not be the most polite manner, but you get used to the necessity of not getting drawn into conversation, lest you be forever unable to escape.

My advancement, however, was quickly halted as I found the gentleman who was to receive us. Our stay was arranged with the priest of a village not far from Maghagha, but due to our late arrival (now about 9:30pm) he was already involved in leading mass. In his place he sent his brother, who now began helping us with our bags, but only for a moment.

Within two minutes he was surrounded by the police, among them the ‘porter’ who earlier tried to help us as we got off the train. It was all very friendly, and no one was unnerved, but Julie counted seven people who were involved in our arrival. Who are you? Who are they? Why are they coming? Where are they going? Each question had a very simple answer, and the appropriate people recorded the information, finally taking a look at our passports and recording our names. They continued to escort us to the priest’s brother’s car, with a small diversion as I remembered it would be better to purchase tickets for our return trip before we departed the station. It turned out this was rather unfruitful, for the trains were sold out on the day we had purposed to leave as well as the next day, except for either the 5:00am train or the one leaving at midnight. At this point we have no return ticket, but the police assured everything would be taken care of. As great as their attention had been to this point, it seemed the best thing to trust their word. They indicated, if I understood correctly, that we should just show up at the normal time of departure at 10:30am or 1:00pm, and we would (likely) find a place. In any case, the priest would take care of everything.

Here is the background, some of which is known, some of which is conjecture, all of which is the normal and expected procedure. My boss has been friends with this priest for many years, and he selected him for our visit to Upper Egypt in part because he has a very good manner with his Muslim neighbors and the regional authorities. In securing the priest’s agreement for us to visit, he then informed the police in our area, who also gave their approval. This is the known. The conjecture is that the policeman I inquired with concerning how to board the train likely conveyed his knowledge to the station in Maghagha. Therefore it should have been no surprise to find the concerned authorities as part of our official welcome.

The normal and expected procedure has been in place for many years. Egypt has had sporadic violence against foreign tourists who visit the Pharonic heritage sites in Upper Egypt, and consistently sends all tourists with a police escort. Foreigners who go to places like Maghagha, however, are much less frequent, and generally have very limited reasons to be there. Their presence attracts attention, and Egypt is concerned about their security. In a country which depends to a great extent on tourism and outside investment, the death of a foreigner could have wide ramifications. Upper Egypt has a reputation as being a haven of Islamist activity, and while the vast majority of people are against violence of any kind, including the vast majority of Islamists, there are pockets of extremist sentiment. Though the government has made great strides in combating these elements, they do still exist, as was seen today.

The police presence takes some getting used to, but it is very friendly. At the station the officer who recorded my passport information apologized several times. One of their number joined us in the car and accompanied us to the church in the village fifteen minutes from Maghagha, where the mass was in progress, and then joined with his colleagues who make up the normal guard outside the church during every mass, but especially during holidays. He came in a few times to check in on us, and when everything ended two officers joined us on the trip back to Maghaga. One sat on the lap of the other in the passenger seat, and they joked with the priest almost the entire trip home. The next day we returned to the village to join in Christmas day celebrations, and though they checked regularly with the priest about our program, they generally left us to ourselves, as best we knew. Even so, it is now 10:00pm, and an office just knocked on the door of the priest’s home to inquire if we are going out again tonight. After assuring him we were done for the day, we may have allowed him an early evening home.

In terms of the chronology of the day, however, we return to the Christmas Eve mass. We arrived about 10:30pm with an hour and a half of a four hour service remaining. Our girls were doing remarkably well given the hour, and though Hannah largely stayed quiet (but not sleeping) on Julie’s lap, Emma was having a great time. Automatically becoming the guests of honor we were ‘seated’ in the first row of the church, directly in front of the altar boys. Seated is a misnomer as most of the mass requires standing, and as I held Emma she preferred standing on the dividing wall between the congregants and the altar boys, and quite attracted their attention. Three of them in particular paid no further care to the mass and played with her the whole time. Emma was alternatingly shy and engaging, but was causing no stir. There were several children milling about in the pews, and the worshipper standing next to us was goading her the whole time, and was even father of one of the three altar boys. It was fun to join in the chants while at the same time catching Emma as she turned from the attention, slipped off the wall, and fell into my arms. It may not be acceptable behavior for most masses, but on this occasion we fit right in.

As the mass ended the priest left rather quickly and we returned to his home with the aforementioned escort. In the car our girls finally fell asleep, but of course woke upon arrival, which may have been good since food was waiting for all. Though actual practice varies, Orthodox Egyptians fast for fifty-five days before Christmas. The fast is of a vegetarian variety, as all meat beside fish is prohibited. Christmas then becomes the worthy celebration, and the meat flows freely. In addition to a plate of rice and a bowl of salad, there was chicken and the most delicious beef I have ever eaten. It did make me wonder, however, how many ‘foolish’ things we do in our celebrations of which we are unaware. After fifty-five meatless days, it seems strange to gorge on such a feast, especially at 1:00am. We did not have the most pleasant sleep that evening (morning?), but there were no regrets concerning the consumption.

To be continued…

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Tomorrow is Christmas Eve

You may remember Jayson’s post from Dec. 25 entitled “Today is Not Christmas”.  Well, we have been able to extend our celebration of Christmas being here in Egypt, and finally, tomorrow, January 6, we will celebrate Coptic Christmas Eve.  We are still establishing our traditions, as he mentioned, but for this first Christmas in Egypt, we decided to travel to a town about 3 hours south of Cairo, called Maghagha.  We will travel by train tomorrow evening, arriving around 10pm as the Coptic Church is in full swing for their very special Christmas Eve service.  All over Egypt, Christians will be worshipping God in their churches until midnight, at which time they will return to their homes for the big Christmas meal.  One of the reasons the meal occurs directly after the midnight mass is that traditionally, Copts fast for 40+ days prior to Christmas.  This fast includes abstaining from all animal products, and thus, once midnight of Christmas Eve hits, the fast is broken, and the Christians can celebrate the birth of their Savior with food and fellowship.

I am sure we will have more to say about this when we return from our trip on Saturday, but for now, just know that we will participate as best we can in this midnight mass, with our two little ones in tow, and then in the Christmas feast at someone’s house, again, with our two little ones preferably sleeping in tow.  I am sure we will have many stories and adventures to share following four days of celebration outside of Cairo.  Stay tuned.

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Brown Bear, Brown Bear

This classic children’s book has been a favorite of our girls specifically during potty training for some reason.  I guess we introduced it as a new book when they were learning to use the potty, and it takes long enough to read to give them a chance to do something on the potty.  They both learned to read along with the book, at least somewhat, fairly quickly, and we recorded both of them at different times, with their Brown Bear book.

Emma was about 2 years old when she started with Brown Bear.  She could identify all the colors and animals fairly well by then.  One word of translation, when Emma says “oo-hoo” it means “give me.”  She wanted to see herself on the camera.

Hannah started with Brown Bear at about 19 months of age, so her words aren’t as clear, but she definitely knows the animals.  She, too, wanted to see herself on the camera, so she is a bit distracted, but it is fun to compare the two.

For Emma, click here.

For Hannah, click here.

To purchase from Amazon, click here: Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?

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Two Thousand Years of Coptic Christianity

Two thousand years of Coptic Christianity is the title of a book by Otto Meinardus, a renowned scholar on the history, practice, and theology of the Coptic Orthodox Church. His work is widely accepted as the standard reference book for all inquiries into the development of this particular expression of faith. Upon reading it, I could only agree.

My strongest agreement, however, is expressed in its description as a reference book. When I asked a well read friend to recommend me a book with which to understand the Coptic Church, he immediately thought of Meinardus. While gladly loaning me his copy, though, he added, but this is a book you must eventually buy for yourself. I didn’t understand this at the time; like with most books I wished to read it, profit from it, and then give it back to its owner. Rarely if ever does a book get read twice – why should anyone ever purchase?

Upon my reading I discovered why, though the jury is still out if I will eventually buy it for myself. The first half of the book is a comprehensive survey of Coptic history, beginning not even with Mark—believed to be the founder of Christianity in Egypt—but with Jesus. The Gospels tell the story of the Holy Family’s flight to Egypt to escape the sword of King Herod. While the Gospel details are few, Coptic legend-slash-history thoroughly establishes their itinerary, proceeding even to sites hundreds of kilometers from Palestine in Upper Egypt. At each significant place of their travel there is a church dedicated to the event. These churches have an ancient history, lending credibility to antiquity of the tradition.

Meinardus does not judge. Though he comments often on this progression, he generally presents the details and leaves the historical queries to other works. His treatment of subsequent Christian development is similar. He tells the tales that surround the preaching and martyrdom of Mark, and of the first communities of Christians that began the transformation of the Pharaohnic character of Egypt. Elements of this story involve the miraculous, which does not stop with the end of the apostolic age. Meinardus continues to list the traditions surrounding the acts of prominent bishops and monks, and especially the martyrs from the eras of persecution. Monasteries and martyrdom are among the pillars of Coptic Christianity, and Meinardus provides a window into the worldview of the church.

He also delves into the development of theology, which is easier to document. Treatment is given to the great Christological debates which divided the early church, but proceeds into the production of Coptic canon law. The great figures who wrote these documents and the ancient liturgies, so obscure to Western readers, are given their names and accomplishments in print. Meinardus has respect to the cloud of witnesses which has gone before, and honors their legacy.

Yet not all the names are obscure. Athanasius, the great champion of orthodoxy against the Arian heresy and compiler of the Biblical canon of Scripture, was the pope of the Coptic Church. Cyril and Gregorius are not as well known, but are still familiar names to students of church history. St. Anthony, the founder of monasticism, was Egyptian, as was the Thebian Legion whose memory is enshrined in many European cities for their refusal to deny their Lord and subsequent martyrdom. Coptic Christianity, in fact, lies behind much of the history of Christianity in Europe, as their monks and missionaries carried the Gospel throughout the continent, and to Ireland especially. Many people are aware of the vital role played by the Irish in the Christianization of Europe; less known is that the origin is Coptic. Meinardus supplies the names and stories of the Egyptian contributors.

Meinardus continues the story into the middle and modern ages, describing the interactions of the church with Islam, during both its tolerant and repressive epochs. Less detail than I desired was given to the question of why the church declined over time, but this is a difficult issue to address; histories are written of triumph and progression—who records the record of loss? Nevertheless, Meinardus provides a window into this near-unknown era, and understanding of the history will take many readings simply to establish familiarity. This becomes easier as modernity approaches, and Meinardus describes Coptic dealings with successive Turkish, French, and British empires. Special attention is given to the deep revival of the church during the 20th Century, which continues to this day. A blog post all its own is necessary, however, to do justice to this phenomenon.

All that is listed above was both interesting and worthy of owning as a personal record, though the story in its broad strokes may be told elsewhere. The second half of Meinardus’ book, though, both establishes and possibly condemns it to serve as a reference book. From here on Meinardus becomes a list-maker, as nearly every monastery, church, and saint’s shrine is given a place in his text, complete with details of the relics therein. I read the majority of the book while I was staying at Makarius Monastery in Wadi Natrun, which is home also to additional historic monasteries established as early as the 4th Century. It was fascinating to read the history of where I was. The other chapters were a chore to read, however, simply because I have no context to appreciate them. If I anticipate a future visit to such-and-such village in Upper Egypt I will open Meinardus and read of the churches there, but otherwise, what good does this information do me?

I hope, however, to visit such-and-such village. I imagine that our work will take me throughout Egypt to discover the many different facets of Egyptian life, Christian and otherwise. To view the foundational facts will require reference to Meinardus, and for this his book seems essential to own. I would recommend the first half of the book to anyone interested in Coptic Christianity, but I will likely in time find better, or at least equal, books to recommend. As a reference book, however, Two Thousand Years of Coptic Christianity will likely stand alone. It is recommended to anyone desiring to study Coptic Christianity, and for long term life in Egypt, if there is a desire to honor its Christian heritage, it is a must.

Click here to purchase from Amazon: Two Thousand Years of Coptic Christianity

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Today is Not Christmas…

… but neither am I Scrooge. Well, that could be interpreted as a matter of opinion, as may be seen.

Perhaps many of you are aware that in Egypt, Christmas is celebrated on January 7. I imagine there are deep and profound historical reasons for this, but to date I have not cared particularly enough to research them. Coptic Orthodoxy split apart, or rather was expelled, from the to-become Catholic faith at the time of the Chalcedonian creed, I believe in 451. One of the consequences was a divergence in fixing the celebration of Jesus’ birth, which for early Christians was never regarded with any importance. Easter also became separately marked, though this was of greater import, both biblically and liturgically.

We discovered while living in Jordan that the Christians there created a novel solution. The Coptic and Orthodox branches of Christianity, about evenly split in the country, agreed to celebrate Western Christmas on December 25, and Eastern Easter according to the lunar rites of the Orthodox Church. I would wish that the worldwide church might make such an agreement as well. For our part in America I imagine this would be easy. Ubiquitous Western culture has established December 25 as Christmas even throughout the non-Christian world, and none of us can ever figure out when Easter is going to be anyway. What would be the difficulty in uniting with our Eastern brothers in faith by celebrating Easter according to their calendar? I doubt anyone would even know the difference.

This could be harder for the Orthodox, however, as it could be seen as yielding to the very unchristian culture which surrounds the birth of Jesus. What should stop the Western world, however, from making a unilateral gesture of unity to Orthodoxy by taking up their Easter? Perhaps the Pope could champion this cause from the Catholic side; if he did, would Protestants go along? Or, under what scenario could the initiative emerge from the Protestant community; who might lead us forward? Might any of you propose such a measure this year in your churches? Might you develop a sufficient sense of belonging to the worldwide church so as to contemplate it?

Our sense of belonging to Egypt, however, has created in us a bit of a quandary. When is our Christmas? Most foreigners here simply celebrate December 25 as they always have, and the local expatriate community churches host Christmas Eve services and have times of caroling. For those spending time abroad away from home, certainly this is a welcome reminder of valued traditions.

But it completely misses Egypt. The non-Orthodox Egyptian Christian community is but a small percentage of the millions of Coptic faithful. Again, I lack the history of why and if this was always so, but the Egyptian Catholic and Protestant Churches celebrate Christmas in unity with their brethren, on January 7. Though Jordan also was a predominantly Muslim country, there were still Christmas lights hanging from the windows of Christian apartments and manger scenes set up among the families we would visit. Here, there is nothing. Not only is there no Christmas cheer, but the Orthodox precede Christmas with fifty-five days of fasting. As we went to sleep last night, it was almost eerie to imagine the excitement among children back in America, and the labors of parents to run the gauntlet through that most sacred of national institutions, the mall. Here, save for the sounding of the call to prayer, there is silence.

This is not quite true, however, and it creates a confusion that is quite palpable. The Orthodox are proud of their traditions and history; why then are there so many trappings of Western Christmas? Last Friday at the Orthodox Church we attend was held the annual church bazaar. There were Santa Clauses being sold, wreathes to buy, and a big sign proclaiming, “Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!” Why was this not reversed in order? Are the Egyptians yielding in fact to the inevitability of Western cultural dominance? Or, is there simply no escape?

There is a possible explanation in that this church in particular was consecrated on either December 24th or 25th, and from the coincidence of Christmas the two celebrations blend together. Another explanation is that the Christians also celebrate New Year, and the holiday festivities start early, continue through the end of 2009, and pick up steam as true Christmas approaches. Perhaps, but later this evening we will attend the choir concert at this church, which will feature carols in both Arabic and English. We do not have the benefit of familiarity over time; is this normal, both here and throughout Egypt?

In any case, what should we do? The principles of belonging suggest that we should do as the Egyptians do and celebrate according to their calendar. No one claims that Jesus was actually born on this day, so what does it matter? We also have the benefit of having children young enough not to be traumatized by a different date. We could just ignore the 25th and then let the momentum build in both family and country in expectation of the 7th. Yet if this can be interpreted as the noble solution, what do we do in the face of the ignoble bowings to yuletide found among so many Copts? Do they themselves open our door to the legitimacy of Western celebrations?

 Regardless, the noble solution may not be the easiest, or even healthiest. While our children may be able to switch with little difficulty, we ourselves cannot. Furthermore, what of the phone calls back to family in America? These will not stop, but how will they be defined? We have taken to saying, “It is Christmas in America,” but this is forced. I nearly prayed this morning at breakfast, both unconsciously and with a smirk on my face, “Thank you God that Jesus was born in America today.” Of course I will not play with such blasphemy, but is this a duality that can be maintained?

If only for year one in Egypt, we will try to maintain it. Perhaps our children will grow up bragging, “We get to celebrate two Christmases!” Our current solution is to avoid the expatriate church focus on the 25th, in the manner which we generally avoid this church anyway. Still, we will wake on Western Christmas and have a special breakfast, after which we will open our stockings. Before lunch we will participate with other foreign friends by taking a boat ride on the Nile. Later in the day we will call our families to join in their celebrations, and will close the day at the aforementioned Orthodox choir sing. All this will be Christmas, in very nature and being.

Yet it will not be Christmas, amen and amen. Eastern Christmas is still to come. I am not sure what this will entail in terms of participation in the greater life of the Coptic community. For ourselves, though, we will leave the opening of presents until this day, when we will also have a cake to celebrate Jesus’ birthday. Perhaps this suggests that we will treat the 7th as ‘true Christmas’. So be it. We can never leave behind our own culture, nor should we try. Yet we should give ourselves as completely as possible to those we live among, and the sole celebration of the 25th would be tantamount to insisting, “We are not of you, we remain foreigners.” It is doubtful that anyone would care; they expect foreigners to remain so. Yet we hope that if only in a symbolic way some might see our holiday adoption, albeit short of transfer, as an expression of love and appreciation.

The celebration of Christmas, on either the 25th or the 7th, is a celebration of incarnation. The word of God took on flesh, and dwelt among us. Following this pattern, all who follow him can take on the flesh of those they live among. As he remained God, so we will remain American, and all will keep the identity they possess. None of this need be set aside, but so much more can be added. For the good of Egypt, for the good of all the communities in which we live, and for the good of our very souls, may such incarnation take hold.

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Books Personal

A Grief Suppressed?

A few days ago I started writing a blog post about our doorman’s wife, Aaza, a woman I mentioned in a blog post before (click here).  The idea for the post came because she has been in the hospital for at least three weeks awaiting an operation for a second brain tumor.  Her first tumor was removed in mid-August.  After that, she seemed to have some ups and downs.  Some days I would see her hanging laundry, walking around her yard, drinking tea, talking with her girls … slowly and sometimes in pain, but recovering nicely.  And then other days she couldn’t talk, her tongue seemed numb.  She couldn’t move her hands; she walked only very slowly and with great help from her husband who seemed desperate to help her regain her full strength.  She took lots of medicine and stayed in bed most of the day, and then we heard, her brain tumor was back and she would go for another operation—this time at a better hospital with a better doctor.  Yet, the next news I got was she went to the hospital, and then the operation was postponed one week as the doctor went to a conference?!  It sounds crazy to my western ears.  Each time I asked a family member, it was the same story.  “No, she hasn’t had an operation yet.  They keep postponing it.  I don’t know why.” 

She died on Sunday, December 20, and that made me wonder if they postponed it because the doctors knew she didn’t have a chance, or if it was because she was in a government hospital getting free medical care and perhaps she had to “wait her turn,” which, unfortunately, didn’t come soon enough.

That same day, before the news came, her two youngest children, Wilaa (age 10) and Omar (age 4) were here visiting.  You may remember Omar from an earlier post (click here).  Ever since their mom has been in the hospital, the three school-aged girls have basically missed a lot of school.  It seems the oldest, Yasmine (age 16), has attended fairly regularly.  She is older and missing school makes it difficult for her.  The next youngest, Hibba, seems to have spent most of her days at the hospital with her mom.  I am happy for her in that.  Usually Hibba is the one who works very hard in our building … two times a day coming to our door to run errands for us or take our trash out … and this for everyone in our building … probably about 12 apartments.  So I am glad she got to spend these last days with her mom.  I have seen the two older sisters with their mom … it seems their bond was very strong.  I don’t know how they will handle this loss.  The youngest daughter, Wilaa, told me she has only been going to school for tests.  She has basically taken over the job of her sister running errands for everyone in the building, taking her 4 year-old brother along with her.  Anyway, I think the two youngest have been bored around home and yesterday they finally came here to play.  As far as I know, they didn’t know of their mother’s death at the time, and perhaps she was still alive at that hour.  But they had a good time and maybe they will come again.  I hope so.  Jayson and I want to help this family any way we can, and maybe giving the younger kids a place to play will be a help to them.  Time will tell.

I learned of her death on Sunday afternoon.  Hibba came to the door dressed in black, and I definitely noticed she was dressed differently, but it didn’t register with me exactly.  She asked if we needed anything, and I said “No,” then asked “How is your mom?” 

At that point, she told me she died … however, she used a word I didn’t know, so I didn’t understand. 

I asked, “Did she have her operation yet?” 

Again, she told me she died, but I didn’t understand. 

“Did they postpone it again?  Do you know when?” 

This time, she used a word I knew, and it all sunk in. 

“Oh Hibba, I am so sorry. When?” 

 I was ready to cry and hug her, but she said, “Today. Oh, it’s normal.  Praise God.” 

“It’s not normal … she’s your mom.  I am so sorry.” Then I added, as is customary, “May God have mercy on her.”

She left and I closed the door and felt so stupid.  I should have noticed the black.  The poor girl had to tell me three times that her mother died.  Sometimes it is very hard to be in another culture and I feel the language barrier keenly in a situation like this.  I want to tell her how very sorry I am that she has lost the most important person in her life.  I want to tell her to cry, cry, cry and if she needs a place to cry or a person to be sad with, I can be that person.  I have seen her cry before one of the times her mom couldn’t talk or walk, and I saw one of her uncles reprimand her and tell her to be strong.  I want her to be free to grieve.  Still, I am not of this culture, so there is so much I don’t understand.  There are things I want to say, and yet I either don’t know quite how to say it or I stumble over it, and someone who is grieving doesn’t need to expend extra energy to try to understand a foreigner.  So, I pray for wisdom and for God to give me the right words for this situation.  We pray that God would show us ways we can help this family.  We are the foreigners who barely knew their mom, and yet, we’ve connected somewhat with the kids.  I hope we can help in some way.

I have so many questions about what happened and what will happen.  I don’t know if the younger kids will be sent to the village with relatives to be raised there.  I am guessing the two older girls will stay here with their father, and continue to study and work and run the house.  I have no idea how Muhammad, the husband, will grieve.  I worry about Omar.  He is such a difficult child already.  How much does he understand that his mommy is never coming back?  And the burial/funeral procedures are very different here.  They buried their mom the same day she died, and then spent that evening and the next morning preparing their house and yard for the visitors who will come for the next three days to offer their condolences.  God help them through this time.  And God help us to do what we can.

On Monday I attended the first night of the condolence giving, and what I learned bothered me deeply.  I went downstairs and entered the yard of the family and was directed to the women’s section.  Yasmine, the oldest daughter was there looking very sad.  I greeted her and said, as per custom, “May what remained of her life be added to yours.”

And she replied, as expected, with, “May it be to yours.”

Hibba was inside but came out to greet me.  I guess I feel the closest to her just because I see her the most.  I felt so sad for her and gave her a big hug and was near tears as she was.  I repeated the customary phrase, then added that I was so sorry for her loss and if she needs anything, or a place to cry just come up to our apartment.  Her little sister, Wilaa, was nearby, and Hibba said something to me along the lines of … “because Wilaa.” 

I am not sure what that meant, but at first I thought she meant to greet her as she was nearby.  So I did.  I said some of the same things … please come up anytime you want.  Then it seemed Hibba was encouraging Wilaa, who was near tears, not to cry.  I kind of stepped in and said, “No, cry, cry.  This is sad. This is hard.  Cry.  I’m so sorry for you.” 

All the while, Hibba was saying something to me that I didn’t understand.  What I did catch was, “No, don’t be sorry.  This is normal.” 

Ugh.  More of that “normal” stuff.  It’s not “normal” to lose your mother at age 10 or 14.  I kind of argued the point, “No, it’s not normal.  She was the closest person to you.” 

Then Hibba said something which I thought meant that her mother was in heaven so praise God for that, meaning, we shouldn’t be sad. 

Again, I had a rebuttal, “Okay, but the problem is she’s not HERE with YOU.  This is why you can be sad.  Yes, praise God she is out of pain, but cry because she’s not with you any longer.”

At this point, we kind of all sat down, and a few minutes later, as I was sitting feeling very sad for this family … these girls especially, Hibba once again tried to explain to me why they won’t cry.  And this is where I felt the language gap because there is so much I don’t understand, but from what I gathered, she believed that for every tear they cry for their dead mother, a drop of fire will fall on her skin.  Now, understand that I may not have heard that right.  But I think the principle was there, that if they cry because she died, she will suffer more in the grave.

Whoa.  That blew me away.  It made me angry.  What!  Before, I thought maybe they were just trying to be strong and somehow culturally it’s not okay to cry.  But, to be forbidden!  To be told that IF you cry, you will cause your mom more pain!  So what do they do with that?!  They need to cry, they want to cry, but if they do, they have hurt their mom.  Did you ever try to keep yourself from crying when you really need to cry?  It physically hurts!  Wow.  I was even more sad for them now.  What could I do?  I wanted to be there to cry with them, but now, if I cried, it was actually going to harm them!  I sat there for another 15-20 minutes listening to the conversation around me, watching young Omar repeatedly hit his brand new car toy with a stick, and just thinking about how I could get around this “rule.”

When one of the relatives came and sat with me, I tried to ask her about what Hibba just told me.  Again, I wasn’t sure if I understood correctly.  In answering me, at first it seemed this relative said it was okay to have tears, but not to make sound when crying.  But then it did seem, she basically summed it up with, “It’s forbidden to cry.”

So I would love to hear from some Egyptians who know this culture and this language.  Did I hear and understand correctly?  Can you explain the ideas behind this?    I believe that all cultures have harmful ideas of what to do with grief.  A few years ago, Jayson and I received training in coping with grief (The Grief Recovery Handbook), and we began our course with learning many of the wrong ideas that we have adopted in American culture regarding grief.  I could totally see those things when we studied it.  And now I know that it’s so important to feel your loss strongly.  To cry.  To grieve.  To wail.  To sit in silence.  To be with people.  To be alone at times.  To remember.  To laugh.  To cry some more.  To pray.  To rejoice.  To mourn.  I don’t mean to be judgmental of Egyptian culture, but I want to understand it better and better, and especially now as I see my neighbor girls hurting, and it seems they aren’t able or allowed to express their deep grief.  Must they suppress it?

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Personal

A Special Surprise

Our daughter, Emma, loves surprises, and loves getting something special. Hannah loves just about anything Emma gets excited about. In this short video series:

Part one gets her guessing about what it will be (click here)

Part two is the answer and her response (click here)

Part three is Emma wanting to play the game herself (click here), and is a bit of a postscript.

We hope you enjoy these peeks into our life and work; thanks for sharing in our special surprise.

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Personal

Sheep

Emma has spent most of her life living outside the US.  However, since she is only three, she also doesn’t yet remember “most of her life.”  So when we moved to Cairo, after living in the states for six months, I was concerned about her adjustment. She had learned some Arabic words in Tunisia, but at that point even her English vocabulary was very limited.  I was concerned that now that she could communicate any idea she wanted to, she may get very frustrated not being able to do that with Egyptians.  I also thought she would really miss her family members that she left in the states after getting to know them so well over the six months.  Now, she does miss them, I don’t want any Caspers or Van Dames to wonder otherwise, but for the most part, she seemed to go with the flow right away.  Perhaps it’s because at age 3, as long as your mom, dad and sister (in her case) are with you and they are comfortable where they are, then you can be too.

Raising kids has been a lot of fun.  Yes, a lot of work.  But a lot of fun too.  What a privilege as parents to see a character take shape, and a personality form; skills develop and ideas sink in.  We’ve enjoyed watching both girls grow and change.  But as we consider our girls, we think they are a little different than others.  Of course, everyone thinks that, right?  But as we watch Emma play and listen to her conversations, we wonder how much of her being a TCK has affected who she is.  TCK stands for Third Culture Kids.  This is basically defined as any child who has spent a significant part of their formative years living in a country other than their parents’ home or “passport” country.  So since they don’t live in the passport country and therefore don’t quite “fit in” there, and they spend most of their lives in another culture where they are obviously different, they kind of develop a “third culture” within themselves…one that is neither of the two cultures they know best, but a mix of the two.  Now, Emma is only three, and she still has a lot of formative years to go, but being a TCK has definitely affected her. 

One example Jayson and I were commenting on the other day has to do with sheep.

 Ask a 3-year old about sheep and they might say, “They say baa.”  Ask Emma about sheep and she’ll tell you how they get “cut up.”  It all started last year in Tunisia when we visited friends for their annual holiday of the sacrifice.  We took pictures with the live sheep before the sacrifice,

 and then I watched the slaughter while Jayson kept Emma and Hannah entertained.  We didn’t think Emma should watch being just a little over 2 years old.  So she missed the actual killing part, but wanted to watch what was happening as it was cut up and put on the grill.

Fast forward to this year when we came to Egypt.  About two months ago we were in a shop where I was visiting a friend.  Right next door was a butcher.  It turns out they were slaughtering a sheep at that time, and as I talked to the girl in the shop, Emma watched the butcher take care of the sheep.  I encouraged her a few times to come closer to us, but she was very interested in what was happening at the butcher.  After it was finished and we were walking home, she started thinking about it and said she was sad for the sheep because it got “cut up.”  And after waking up a few times with bad dreams about the sheep, she decided she didn’t want to watch a sheep get cut up again.  I told her that’s just fine. 

A few weeks ago we were walking somewhere and saw some sheep in the bottom floor of an abandoned or half-constructed building.  We took this walk regularly and looked for the sheep each time after this.  Once or twice they weren’t there and while I suggested they may have gone somewhere to get some food, Emma thought they were out visiting their cousins.  (See, she does miss her family in America!)  On our most recent walk past this building, the sheep were again absent.  This time I figured they got “cut up” since the holiday of the sacrifice had recently passed.  But Emma again suggested they were visiting cousins.  However, on the return trip, she concluded that yes, they probably got cut up.

Speaking of the holiday, we stayed home this year.  However, our landlord slaughtered one cow and a few sheep in the courtyard just below our balcony.  We didn’t mention it to Emma who had already decided she didn’t want to watch this anymore, but we did go out to Sunday school, and on the way back, we rushed inside when we saw them cutting up a sheep.  Emma said, “That gives me bad dreams.  I don’t like that.”  The slaughtering went on for several hours and at some points there were one or two animals hanging from our balcony, but Emma didn’t see anything else or have any bad dreams that night.

And just today, while I was hanging laundry on our balcony, I noticed some of our doorman’s livestock “grazing” in their yard.  Turns out it was four sheep.  First I picked Hannah up to see and she said “Sheep!”  Then I picked Emma up.  “It’s sheep!  Why didn’t they get cut up?”  Guess it’s a theme with her!

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Books Personal

Egypt and the Triumph of Islam

Egypt and the Triumph of Islam is the subtitle of “No God but God”, written by Geneive Abdo, chronicling the ascendancy of the Islamic spirit in the land of the Nile. The Islamic creed declares, “There is no god but God,” uniting all of Egypt’s believers, but continues, “and Muhammad is his prophet,” isolating Egypt’s non-Muslim community. For centuries Egypt has existed in between these two statements of the creed, reflecting a society which is united in the primacy of religion, providing space for the monotheistic general, yet leaning toward the Islamic particular. Yet in scaling down the creed even further, “No God but God” highlights the transformation that is taking place in Egypt. No god, no philosophy, no political system, no economic theory – may take the rightful place of God as master of human existence.

Islam has always declared God’s ultimate authority, as has Christianity of course, but Egypt until recently has always accommodated a less than perfect Islamic ideal. Since the Islamic period began, and in fact since Alexander the Great, Egypt has been governed by foreigners. Romans, Byzantines, Arabs, Turks, French, and finally British have occupied the throne for 2,000 years. The majority of these two millenniums have been under at least tacit Islamic governance. The first Egyptian to rule since the Pharaohs, Gamal Abd al-Nasser, came to power in a military coup in 1952, but like the rulers before him moderated between the Islamic identity of the masses and his own political agenda. He preached secular socialism and Arab nationalism, seeking to modernize Egypt while balancing between the Cold War East and West. His successor, Sadat, tried to welcome Islamic sentiment while economically titling Egypt into the capitalist orbit. While both for long periods enjoyed great public popularity, there was a lingering discontent that existed beneath the surface.

There is within Islam an understanding that God’s favor implies civilizational superiority. This is natural to explain from history, as following the death of Muhammad within 100 years his political successors established an empire which stretched from Spain to India. From the fall of the Roman Empire to the end of World War I the Islamic Empire, though suffering sporadic periods of decline, was constituted the dominant power on earth. Then, all of a sudden, Europe was king. Muslims asked internally, what happened to God’s favor? The answer tended in one of two directions. First, it was said that Muslims had neglected their religion. As such, God withdrew his favor. Second, it was said that Muslims had become too religious. Instead of pursuing the technological creativity which had characterized them for centuries, they entered instead into divisive theological controversies, and neglected the developments going on in the rest of the world. So while some urged religious revival, others urged imitation of the West. Most, of course, sought a balance.

This time of questioning coincided with, or rather was engendered by, the period of French and British colonization. This chafed at the Egyptian psyche, for while they had always been ruled by foreigners, at least they were ruled by Muslim foreigners. France’s colonial age in Egypt was very short, but the British, though seen as seeking the modernization of Egypt, were also seen as completely self-serving. The foreign Islamic powers simply demanded the payment of a yearly tax, which, though at times oppressive, generally did not disturb the regular patterns of traditional life. In addition, if anyone cared, it was in the service of Islam and the predominance of its order. The British, however, upset everything. While the elite learned to play along, and profited exorbitantly, their modernization efforts touched the soul of society. Furthermore, the best of the profits were pocketed by the foreign carpetbaggers and their international companies, with their upper-class lackeys in tow. When World War II ended and colonialism collapsed in the wake of United States preaching about the right of each people to self-determination, enshrined in membership in the United Nations, the former colonial powers assisted their elitist allies in accession to power, ensuring their continued economic dominance, if not exactly their political.

Gamal Abd al-Nasser was the one to finally succeed in throwing off this yoke, but inherited the same condition. As a Muslim, as an Egyptian, and aided by the fact of being a very charismatic leader, he was celebrated by his people, and in fact by many Arabs around the region. Egyptians, like all people at the time, were awash in a newly celebrated nationalism. Nasser did not emphasize religion; he, of course, ruled over both Muslims and Christians, and the latter had played a substantial part in the long struggle for independence (though not in the coup). It seemed based on his initial successes that Egypt was entering a new and successful age. The religious question of God’s favor was muted, though never jettisoned by all. For his part, Nasser answered it implicitly by continuing Egypt’s modernization. He crafted a modern military. He built the Aswan dam, touching the lives of the Egyptian peasants far more than any Brit had ever done, by ending the eternal cycle of Nile flooding. The effect, though, sent a boom through Egypt’s economy, and Nasser’s socialist impulses made effort to see that all would benefit. God’s favor had returned; Egypt was a major player on the international scene, in the forefront of leadership among the Cold War non-aligned states. All this, furthermore, was done without the banner of religion, let alone Islam.

The favor, should it be so called, would not last. The revamped Egyptian army was routed by Israel in the 1967 war. The socialist economy went flat. Nasser floundered though his sheer force of personality kept most Egyptians rallied around him. The voices that began calling for a deeper return to religion became more strident, only to be silenced by crackdown. The tide was starting to turn.

Nasser’s successor, however, reversed course and kept the Islamist voice at bay. Sadat took over the state and turned Egypt both toward a resurgent religiosity and then toward the capitalist West. In the first he waged the 1973 war against Israel under the cry of ‘Allahu Akbar’, the Muslim chant, and great gains were won as he broke through to reclaim Sinai. In the second he propped up the faltering economy by encouraging private ownership and opening the country to significant foreign investment. Like his predecessor, Sadat also enjoyed great popularity.

The successes, however, were superficial, and soon faded. Careful analysis would show that though far more capable than previous military exploits, the gains in Sinai were tenuous, and the ‘no peace, no war’ situation that followed was a constant reminder of the lingering Israeli presence. The religious element originally welcomed by Sadat was shown to be only for political expediency. It helped rally the nation—though not the Christians—for the war, and was a foil to the leftist politics of Nasser from which Sadat needed to escape. The economic gains were also only partial; the upper class benefited far more than the common Egyptian, and the middle class seemed pressed at both ends. Though still enjoying the support of the people, Sadat realized he was teetering. This led him to take his boldest move yet, for which he would be both praised and vilified, the implications of which are still felt in Egypt today.

The motivations of Sadat are hotly debated today. Was he a champion of peace or a Machiavellian politico? Regardless of the answer the outcome is the same. In 1978 Sadat visited Jerusalem, and in 1979 he signed the Camp David Accords with the Israeli Prime Minister through the brokerage of the American President Jimmy Carter. The advantages were enormous. The economically and psychologically draining policy of ‘no war no peace’ with Israel could be put to an end. Egypt recovered unequivocally all land previously lost in Sinai during the 1967 war. Sadat was hailed as a visionary in the Western press, resulting in increasing confidence in the soundness and stability of the Egyptian economy. The peace accord also was encouraged by millions of dollars in foreign aid, received year after year.

The disadvantages, however, were disastrous on the regional and domestic front. The Arab League broke with Egypt which resulted in complete political and economic isolation. The Egyptian population also roundly condemned the pact, for Israel was the sworn enemy, the oppressor of the Palestinians. While ordinary Egyptians could see the benefits of the peace with Israel, and the more affluent could profit from the ensuing calm, even those in favor could only interpret it as a deal with the devil, so no popularity emerged from his historic risk.

The religious element in Egypt was horrified. Already frustrated with Sadat for not following through on his initial openings for an increased role for Islam in society, this drove them over the edge. Like Nasser before him, Sadat responded harshly, jailing many in large sweeps taking in those with Islamist sympathies, examining later if they were truly guilty of any crimes. By this time Islamist voices were fully in division with their identity. While some urged jihadist aggression to violently overthrow an infidel government, many others were eschewing violence for preaching, hoping to win over the masses for a gradual transformation of society. Again the question of motivation can be asked: Was this sincere or pragmatic, idealistic or calculating? The resulting split, however, became clear in the months which followed.

In 1981 Sadat was gunned down during a military parade by elements of the militarist faction within the Islamists. Though there was little mourning for the fallen leader, there was also round condemnation of the assassination. The jihadist ideas fell increasingly out of favor with the Egyptian people, though they were never popular to begin with, but the moderate Islamist voice emerged victorious. As those with religious leanings were often grouped in one lump with the criminals, society began to see them as martyrs. At the least they were perceived as sincere believers who were being punished by the government for their beliefs. A persecuted idealism is always attractive.

This sums up the background for the ‘triumph of Islam’ as proclaimed by “No God but God.” In answering the question of where was God’s favor, society leaned toward the latter religious answer. For two centuries the political leaders tried to recapture old glory by imitation of the West. Certainly to a great degree their policies were successful; Egypt was transformed into a modern nation. Yet the promise of civilizational superiority was never fulfilled; Egypt and the Arab World together lagged behind the United States, Europe, and even emerging economies in Asia. They played by the rules established for nation-states, why at least were they not as successful as Japan, Korea, China, and the like? The only wealthy Arab nations were Gulf States, and they were religiously conservative in orientation. Pre-revolution Egypt was run by the heirs of colonialist puppets, Nasser led the nation in Arab nationalism and socialism, Sadat pushed his people into Western-leaning capitalism—all failed. Muslims of all stripes began asking, “Why such imitation of foreign ideologies, why not give Islam a try?”

“No God but God” continues this story, showing how the Islamist voice has become so influential in Egypt today. Abdo is careful to insist that the Islamist voice is moderate, not militant, but all the same it is unceasing in its demand that all of life, including politics, economics, and dress code, be governed by the commands of God. She highlights Islamist gains on the street, in al-Azhar seminary, in the unions, in the universities, in the courts, and among women. Though not claiming Islamists have captured the hearts and minds of the majority, she does highlight how much better primed for success is the Islamic experiment in Egypt than in Iran. In Iran the revolution was imposed from the top down. Though welcomed by many, it was achieved politically. In Egypt the vision of the moderate Islamists is bearing true; by transforming individuals, families, and neighborhoods first the political victory can come later. Let God rule in the heart, and then in the hearts of others. Only then can he rule properly in the heart of society.

Click here to purchase from Amazon: No God but God: Egypt and the Triumph of Islam

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Personal

A Protestant on Peacemaking

A little while ago I had an opportunity to dialogue with Rev. Safwat al-Bayyadi, who is the President of the Protestant Churches of Egypt. My summary of this conversation has been published on Arab West Reports, which you can access by clicking here.

As I remarked once before, it is a great benefit of my work that I get to meet such influential people. Rev. al-Bayyadi was able to provide me with a bird’s-eye perspective on Christianity in Egypt, encompassing all but especially from a Protestant perspective. While the title for the reverend is correct – President of the Protestant Churches of Egypt – it is interesting to note that generally speaking the Protestant churches here all go by the name of ‘Evangelical’. I haven’t yet asked enough questions to know why, but it may be that within Egypt ‘Protestant’ could seem like a foreign entity, brought from the West, and therefore suspect, while ‘Evangelical’ is more of Biblical terminology. Though this decision was made long ago, in recent years the ‘Evangelical’ title may result in negative association with the Bush administration and the general support the American Evangelical Christian community gives to foreign policy in Iraq and Israel.

If only from a small outsider’s perspective, I would note that in calling their denomination ‘Evangelical’, Egyptian Protestants may have done themselves a disservice. While the motivation I have briefly come in contact with is laudable, it may have unfortunate consequences. In America, ‘Evangelical’ is an adjective, describing a certain understanding of Christianity. While my rendering here is off-the-cuff, it generally refers to an understanding that is centered on the Bible above tradition, focused on a personal expression of faith, and accepts the necessity of communication of the Gospel message. Thus in America while ‘Evangelical’ is generally understood to be Protestant but not mainline, and has also acquired conservative political associations, in terms of the definition given it is not unusual to find evangelical Catholics, Orthodox, or otherwise. I wonder if in naming themselves ‘Evangelical’ Egyptian Protestants may unwittingly limit the description of the definition from being applied also to the larger Orthodox community. Like I said, I haven’t explored this much yet, but I wonder.

In any case, though Protestant and Orthodox relations here seem mainly positive, there have been recent examples of accusations thrown cross-denominationally. Specifically, at times Orthodox leadership sees Protestants as ‘sheep stealers’, conducting organized efforts to ‘turn Egypt Protestant’ by winning over the youth. You can read a press review on this topic by clicking here.

On the other hand, in my personal interactions with individual Orthodox Egyptians, almost everyone has expressed appreciation for the Protestant Church here. While they hold to their distinctive doctrines, they commend the Protestants for their skills in Bible memorization, vibrant sermons, praise music, and youth ministry. They emphasize that there is only one faith, shared by all denominations, though particular understandings of faith differ, and may reflect the truth closer or farther from correct Biblical understanding. Many families have members in each denomination, and many others worship in both churches. Julie has also found that Emma is not unique in attending the Sunday School sessions of both the local Protestant and Orthodox Church. 

In any case, I am making comments that could be better developed into another post later. For now, please accept my encouragement to read what Rev. al-Bayyadi has to say about the vital task of peacemaking in Egypt. His perspective is both noteworthy and gained from personal experience. If you didn’t do so earlier, you can click here for the text.

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Personal

The Problem of Dialect

We have lived in a few different Arabic-speaking countries now, and we aren’t sure if this has been good or bad for our Arabic skills.

We started off in Jordan for two years where we studied the Jordanian dialect as well as the Modern Standard Arabic which is what people read and write, but rarely speak.  Next we spent two years in Tunisia where the spoken dialect seemed to be about 100% different from what we learned. At first, we didn’t understand anything people were saying to us.  It seems some people understood some of what we were saying, as they compared it to Egyptian Arabic which is widely known throughout the Arab world due to Egypt’s high movie output.

Well, just about the time we were getting comfortable in the Tunisian dialect, we moved to Egypt.  Egyptian Arabic is much closer to Jordanian Arabic, so we were excited to be “coming back” to what we learned in a sense, but the problem is, Tunisian Arabic is what is on our tongues.  We have been adjusting over these last couple months, and some things came easier than others, but I wanted to try to give some examples of these dialect differences to either let you sympathize with us, or at least get a good laugh.

One of the major ways Egyptian Arabic differs from both Jordanian and Tunisian is in the pronunciation of one letter, the “jeem.”  We see/hear this letter and pronounce it as a “j” sound, but Egyptians change it to “geem” or the “g” sound.  This has provided some difficulties in adjusting.  For instance, we weren’t sure if our names would be Gulie and Gayson here, but it does seem they make allowances for western names as we’ve actually met many people with the letter “J” at the beginning of their name.

One word I use a lot is “zawgi” which means “my husband.”  This word has been tricky for me. You see, in Jordan, we learned this word for husband, but with the “j” sound – “zawji.”  Then, in Tunisia, they use a totally different word, “rajul,” which we translated “man” in Jordan.  So every time I said “rajuli” in Tunisia, I translated it in my head, “my man.”  It fits, but it’s not quite the same as my husband.

So, now we came to Egypt, and I have to remember that they don’t use “rajuli,” for husband, and if they did, it would be “raguli,” which to them would mean, “my man,” but they use “zawji” like I learned in Jordan but pronounce it “zawgi.”  This is still my thought process almost every time I use this word, and people wonder why it takes me so long to say “my husband.”  You would think I was a newlywed and am just learning to talk about having a husband, but we’ve been married for 7 years and I’ve been referring to him as my husband, in Arabic, for about 5; it just hasn’t been the same word all five years!

The original word we learned for house was “bait”.  Not too hard.  Well, in Tunisia, they use a different word for house, “daar”.  It wasn’t a new word to us; in Jordan we learned the word “daar” also means house, it’s just that’s not what the Jordanians used.  So, the Tunisians used “daar” for house and used the word “bait” for room.  It took us awhile to get that.

It’s an important word to learn quickly as you are house hunting because you are looking for a certain number of bedrooms and we kept saying “gurfitayn”, meaning two rooms in Jordanian, but they were looking for “baitayn” which to us meant “two houses.”  We certainly didn’t need two houses.  Well, that was Tunisia.

Now we are in Egypt, and they again use the word “bait” for house. Good.  The problem is they have a new word for room which I don’t know too well yet, “awda”, and since I don’t know it well, I automatically fall back on Tunisian, “bait.”  So the other day when a friend was visiting and looking at our apartment, I was telling her a little about our apartment search and that we saw many apartments with either “two houses” or “three houses” in them.  Whoops.  I kind of realized it as I was talking, but then couldn’t think of the Egyptian word for room.  I think she got the idea, though, but it made me feel kind of silly.  Gotta learn that word for room!

Here’s another word I messed up the other day.  We use the verb “to go” a lot.  In Jordan, we learned to say “aruuh” for “I go.”  It conjugates differently depending on who is speaking, but the root is the same.  So we got used to that using it there.  Then we went to Tunisia and they use the word “amshi” for “I go.”  Now, we learned this verb in Jordan, but it meant, “I walk.”  Subtle difference.

The words could be used interchangeably at times … especially since we do walk so much here, but it doesn’t always fit.  However, it seems they just used this one word for both meanings in Tunisia and you sometimes had to specify “walking” over “going” by saying, “with my legs.” Now we’re in Egypt and we’re back to “aruuh” for “to go” and “amshi” for “to walk.”  But since my Tunisian is on the tip of my tongue, I was talking to my landlord the other day about getting us a refrigerator … click here for this story … and told her that if she wanted me to, I would “walk” with her to the large store (which is located about a 30 minute drive away.)  She kind of looked surprised and said, “Carrefour is very far!”  It didn’t quite occur to me yet that I used the wrong word, I just said, oh I know it’s far, I don’t mean “walk, but walk.”  It wasn’t until after I left that I realized I was using the word for two meanings and she was only hearing one.

All of this is further complicated when I Skype with one of my Tunisian friends.  She kind of laughs at me as I’m trying to speak Tunisian, but keep throwing in Egyptian words here and there.  Fortunately she understands me well, but it’s a big mind game trying to learn the Egyptian and at the same time, not totally forget the Tunisian.  Welcome to the Arabic language … it’s beautiful, and at times, painful!

 

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Arab West Report Middle East Published Articles

‘Massacre’ in ‘Assiut’

Did the title of this post get your attention? If so, that is part of the problem of journalism in general, and of the press in Egypt in particular.

Among our work at Arab West Report is the translation of articles from the Egyptian press from Arabic into English. These are then put online, but while the summaries are generally only available to subscribers, occasionally I will be able to share some full text reports.

I have selected this link today about an incident which took place in Dayrut, in Upper Egypt several hours south of Cairo. While the articles we select often, though not always, have to do with religion, they represent the whole spectrum of life in Egypt in both Muslim and Christian thought and identity. Sometimes, however, the articles have to do with conflict between the two groups, and I have chosen this story both because it affected me personally and because it illustrates some of the realities about our life and work.

Please click on this link first.

Here you see illustrated the often sensationalist journalism that easily damages interreligious relationships. The author called this incident ‘a massacre’. Granted, it is a sordid story, but only two people died, though the gunfire was intense. The word ‘massacre’ however takes your attention. Indeed, I selected it first from among the thirty or forty articles we translated last week simply due to this title. The place-name in the title is also of consequence: Assiut. This is a large city in the south of Egypt with large concentrations of Christians, moderate members of the Muslim Brotherhood, and extremist Muslim splinter groups. Recent history has witnessed violent conflict in this area. Daryut is a village in proximity to Assiut, but is not even on its outskirts.

Once read, however, the author has done his job, even if the story does not measure up to the lead-in. Unfortunately, however, the title plays up the idea of sectarian conflict – Muslims ‘massacred’ Christians in ‘Assiut’. While the incident was nothing of the kind, this is the impression that is left in people’s mind, especially if they, like many of us, do not continue to get the whole story. It is a much more interesting headline than a revenge killing in some obscure village. In fact, such a story would likely not even warrant a headline.

But now read this link.

I paid attention to this story not just because of the word ‘massacre’ but also because our work involves the difficult goal of peacemaking between communities in tension. After reading the first story my mind moved on, but then the next day this report was issued, and my heart sunk.

There is so much I do not understand. After having lived in the Arab World for some time I do understand the concept of an honor killing. The first story made sense to me, though it is a world removed from our experiences in the West. Still, certainly someone who would violate the honor of my daughter would stir within me the desire for revenge acted upon in Dayrut. This second story, however, is incomprehensible.

Why would this incident escalate to the point that it did? It was a horrible crime, an honor killing came in response, and the matter should have been settled. What did the failure to release the killer incite in the community at large? Why would they respond this way against their innocent Christian neighbors?

I realize that sectarian conflict exists, but it should not have been ignited here. In our work we strive to understand the root issues involved, doing our best to always make the worst incidents understandable in context, even if justification is impossible. We also strive to remain neutral; we do not represent the church, we do not side with the Christians, we do not proclaim persecution. In reading this story, however, I was dumbstruck. The Christian identity in me, which is true and undeniable—its cancelling is not requested in our work, either from us or from our Muslim colleagues—proposed the word ‘barbarism’. Burning houses, destroying shops – what could cause this act of rage? Or was it an act of intentionality or opportunism? Either way, it calls out for the label of ‘barbarism’; the only question is the matter of degree.

Still, there must be some qualifying factors. It was clear from the first article that the author was sensationalist in choosing the word ‘massacre’. Here, the word better applies, though thankfully no one was killed. Surely they could have been; does this suppose that this was a targeted message and not a simple act of rage? Or can we picture it in appreciation of the culture that will allow violence but stops short of the taking of life? Our own culture can learn a lesson here, even in the midst of such ‘barbarism’. 

I wondered further, what does it mean that they burned houses? The picture in my head is of my parents’ home being reduced to ashes. Is that the reality? Or were the fires from smaller scale Molotov cocktails? Or of the shops which were destroyed; does this refer to rocks thrown through the windows? The reporting is full of detail, but especially as a foreigner the context is lacking. Though surely this is a regrettable occurrence, might it be the random activity of disenfranchised youth? From the article this could be the case. Or, it could be simple barbarism. Or, it is more likely something in between.

I have no picture yet of what that in between might be. This, however, is much of our work. This article succeeded in stimulating within me the type of Christian reaction which only worsens the situation. My immediate assumption was one of barbarism, and though this will not poison within me my estimation of Muslims, it may color my perception of the Muslims of Upper Egypt. But why should I allow a journalist to dictate my reactions?

Our work must move beyond our emotions to get at the true story, inasmuch as this is possible. We must look for the benefit of the doubt, but in the end, we must also call a spade a spade. Yet our work intends to go beyond good reporting, as necessary as this is. We wish to aim for peacemaking, but if we cannot without prejudice approach both sides in a spirit of understanding and in a commitment to truth, we will fail. We may fail anyway, but with spirit and truth, we may at the very least, hope.  

Postcript: Since these incidents took place there has been more reporting about Dayrut. Click here for a more detailed account of the atrocities, published by a Coptic newspaper in Egypt, Watani International. (‘Watani’ means ‘my country’ or ‘my homeland’ in Arabic). Finally, click here to read a press review of several newspapers, which provides a more even-handed treatment of the issue, including the most recent information.

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Personal

The Value of Monasticism

At Wednesday noontime I traveled to Shubra, Cairo to meet Fr. Basilius in the offices of the St. Mark’s Bookstore. While our meeting was ostensibly to discuss the arrangements for my stay in the Makarius Monastery, we discussed extensively the role of monasticism in the church, with an eye toward the issues of the Abu Fana Monastery, which has fallen into sectarian conflict. The following is a summary of our conversation.

Before our meeting I had written a long list of questions for Fr. Basilius concerning the details of my stay in his monastery. How long should I stay? What should I bring? Where would I sleep? What should I wear? What time are prayers? These and many other concerns filled my practical head, but I had a few other questions as well about the monastery and things I had heard about it. Nevertheless, our conversation turned instead to introductions, which led quickly into substantial discussions about monasticism and its role in society and the church.

I briefly described my role in the Center for Arab West Understanding as a continuation of the work done by Cornelis Hulsman in unearthing the real, often non-religious origins of sectarian conflict, but seeking in our new project to move beyond reporting into proactive contributions to the reconciliation effort, in areas, for example, such as Abu Fana. Fr. Basilius spoke warmly of Mr. Hulsman and mentioned instances of their prior cooperation. He then asked me what I thought of the Abu Fana situation. I replied that I was new to this country and preferred to hear from him what he thought, but that I was able to state the findings of Mr. Hulsman, of which he was aware. Fr. Basilius was reluctant to say much, but the nature of our conversation signaled an implicit understanding that the role of the monks in Abu Fana was negative.

“Has anyone tried to communicate with them about their position?” I asked. Fr. Basilius was unaware of any efforts, but stated that he doubted anyone was able. The monks are entrenched in their position and in general were supported by their leadership. What benefit could be gained from words by an outsider? The situation was beyond redemption in any case, for the surrounding population, including government officials, had developed a hatred for the monks in their intransigent attitudes. “But if a message was to be delivered, what would it be?”

Fr. Basilius paused for what seemed a long time, and I was not sure he was going to answer. I had asked variations on the two questions above a few times already, revealing perhaps a strange urgency. He had been engaging, kind, but perhaps not inappropriately vague. When he did answer, it was in recollection of a story, “We have dealt with a similar issue ourselves.”

President Anwar Sadat decided in the late 1970s to grant Makarius Monastery over one thousand acres of land. He had noticed the commendable job the monks had done in reclaiming desert land for agriculture, and, as the country was experiencing phenomenal population growth the government realized such projects were extremely necessary, so he tripled their workload. The abbot at the time, Fr. Matta al-Miskeen (Matthew the Poor) was honored at the gift but wondered, we can barely keep up with our three hundred acres, what can we do with so much? There was much internal debate and reluctance to receive this gift, but in the end, they accepted their charge, and began working the land.

The process of registration of the land in the name of the monastery, however, did not go smoothly, despite even a later presidential rebuke of his ministers. They faced endless delays in getting the proper paperwork, but pressed on anyway with their cultivation. During their efforts to navigate Egyptian bureaucracy, President Sadat was assassinated. In the next meeting with government officials Fr. Matta was told that the monks had no claim to the land, as the promise from President Sadat was only oral, and not in writing. Discouraged but accepting, Fr. Matta returned to the monastery, and informed his fellow monks of the decision.

As time passed the monks returned to their own fields, but a little later there came word of a general presidential initiative. This one was meant to encourage all university graduates to find land in reward for their studies, as many were entering a work force devoid of substantial openings. As the monastery was populated by dozens of monks with university degrees, each one applied for the position, and not long thereafter the monastery had recovered, now officially, all the land originally promised. These lands were in the names of the monks, not the church, but that mattered little since the monks had forsworn all worldly possessions. The monks had been promised wealth, but showed no excitement; they had been ill-treated, but put up no protest. Finally, after accepting patiently the will of God, God had restored to them their previous honor.

Fr. Basilius gave no direct answer to my question about Abu Fana, but said succinctly, “Perhaps the monks at Abu Fana have not been able to have a teacher as wise as Fr. Matta al-Miskeen.”

I shifted course after this story with a personal inquiry. I communicated that I was a Christian, raised in a Protestant tradition, and surely he was aware of our critique of monasticism. “Yes,” he replied quickly, “you think we are lazy and do nothing but pray all day.” He smiled as he said this.

I countered, however. While some may think so, this was not the impression I had growing up. Monks were imagined to be among those who love God most fervently, and are dedicated in their prayers, and, in places, in their work. Their fault, it is claimed, is that perhaps they love God too much. They can be seen as selfish in their spirituality, for they are so enraptured in his love that they neglect relationships with the rest of the world. They hole themselves away with others of like mind, and experience neither the hardships of communion with ordinary people nor the necessity of service to those around them. They live only to God, and therefore in a sense, only to themselves.

I assured Fr. Basilius that this was a perspective I have inherited, but it was absent of the attitude which often accompanies it. I have a healthy respect for Orthodoxy in general, and am confident that they have an answer for such accusations. Having never heard the reply, however, I asked him to respond. I told him it was my purpose to better understand and appreciate monasticism in general, but with an eye toward Abu Fana in particular. The monks there are bent on the acquisition of land surrounding the recently rediscovered ancient monastery. Though there have been regrettable actions on both sides, the monks have shown little regard for their neighbors. Yet if the nature of monasticism is internal in focus, walled around a community closed to the outside, how can these monks receive a message of reconciliation with their neighbors?

Fr. Basilis began by commenting on Protestantism, stating, “Your living of the Gospel is based entirely on preaching.” I interrupted, stung by his choice of pronoun, for this is a critique I share of our denomination. “Not entirely,” I offered, and perhaps he recognized the legitimacy of my qualification. It should be mentioned that as he continued he gave no indication of ill will. If he was offended by the repetition of Protestant critique, he did not show it. Instead, his manner was warm and friendly, yet intent on edification.

Protestants will criticize us, he explained, because we isolate ourselves and do not preach. Meanwhile, they express their service to God in their positions in business, education, and a host of other occupations, but in reality, neither do they preach. Even in the Protestant services one can see the emphasis on preaching – there is a lengthy sermon, a few hymns, and a couple prayers. We in the Orthodox Church have a different understanding of Gospel responsibilities. We do preach, but the sermon is only a smaller part of our mass. Most of our time spent in worship is dedicated to prayer.

As monks, this is our dedicated heritage. We do not occupy positions in society which take time away from prayer. We have forsaken family, wealth, fame, and reputation to dedicate ourselves to the kingdom of God. Our prayers support the work of the church in all other areas, including preaching. Furthermore, since we have no children to support we can offer all the proceeds from this monastery as gifts to the poor. We have a calling, as others in the church have a calling. Ours, however, is for prayer, both to God in praise, and for others, in supplication.

I thanked Fr. Basilius for these words, and acknowledged their Biblical nature. I assured him I would be pleased to convey such thoughts to my fellow Protestants. Yet what of Abu Fana, how can this message be communicated to its monks? “This is difficult,” he replied. “They will not receive this message from you,” he smiled, “a Protestant. And we in this monastery are not accepted by many in the church.” “But what of those among you who are called to preach? Who could deliver such a vision? The messenger is not as important as the message. Besides, it is the work of God to change hearts, not of man. It is men, though, that must communicate the message. But what should the message be? ”

Fr. Basilius gave pause again. This time he answered. Though brief, it encompassed all. “The first priority of Christianity, and the second, and the third, is love. Perhaps the monks of Abu Fana have neglected this.”

Time was escaping us. Though I could have spent the rest of the afternoon with him, he had details to attend to for which he had come to Cairo, neglecting his monastery. The exigencies of my upcoming stay required a bit of mundane conversation, after which we departed. The value of the encounter, however, will last, and is the best place at which to end this account. May God grant peace to the people and area of Abu Fana; may his love be communicated to all.

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Personal

Turkey Yesterday, Sheep Today, Monastery to Come

Happy Thanksgiving to our American friends, and Happy Eid to our Muslim ones. On Wednesday we celebrated Thanksgiving with some American friends here, which was a little weird, since we really don’t interact with foreigners much, outside of my office, which is multicultural anyway. It may also have been that though I felt ok enough to go, I wasn’t in the best of spirits as I was coming down with a touch of the flu. It hit hard that evening, and most of actual Thanksgiving I was in bed or resting.

I haven’t been keeping up with swine flu news in America, but it is a bit of a scare over here. I have no fear that I am infected with that strain, but the paranoia is so strong in the middle of my worst fits I thought I should go and get tested, only if to assure fearful friends that they can be free to have a conversation with me.

Is this rumor circulating in America? I have heard here from multiple sources that the swine flu vaccine is being distributed by the US government around the world in order to bring about population control. Since the rest of the world won’t stop having babies, the US first created the swine flu virus to wipe out great swaths of world population, and then is marketing the vaccine which in actuality will be a contraceptive. The company producing the vaccine is the same one which manufactures the government’s chemical weapons stash, or, has been brought up on charges for fraud and malpractice. The rumors all stem from certain emails which are making the rounds in Egypt, and presumably elsewhere. Has anyone seen these in the States?

In any case, since I am still taking it easy today we are unlikely to have any valuable updates on the Eid, whereas otherwise we would be sure to visit our friends and experience their holiday with them. Maybe it is for the best; if I was well then surely I would have here a video allowing you to witness the sheep slaughter, skinning, and skewering with us.

For those who don’t know, Eid al-Adha means holiday of the sacrifice, and celebrates the obedience of Abraham in sacrificing his son, universally believed to be Ishmael, though the text is ambiguous, before God spared him in the end and substituted an animal in his stead. It is the chief ritual of the Hajj pilgrimage to Mecca, and of the two mandated Muslim holidays, it is alternately called ‘The Major Holiday’, in comparison to the end of Ramadan in which the Qur’an was revealed, known as Eid al-Fitr, which means the holiday of fastbreaking, or alternately, ‘The Minor Holiday’.

Several posts going backwards mention that I spent some time in a local monastery last week. I can state briefly that it went very well and was an enjoyable experience. I have not yet written about it, however, since my reflections will also be published in our newsletter, Arab West Report, which has not yet been finalized due to the holidays. There will be two reports in time. The first will be a summary of my conversation with one of the elderly monks of the monastery when he came to Cairo on business. I met him in order to introduce myself and seek permission to stay, and a very interesting discussion followed. The second will be the formal report of my time there, which I hope you will enjoy as much as I did.

One reason my boss encouraged me to keep a blog in the first place was to help promote knowledge of our newsletter, so while both of these reports will be published there, I will be sure to provide the link needed to read them. Whereas reading the full text of our reports and translated articles usually requires a paid subscription of something like $50 to $100 per year for individuals, I will make certain, with his permission, that anything I link you to, whether or not I am the author, is free of charge.

Of course, you are invited to look around. Simply by looking at our weekly issue you can browse the news we are covering for the past seven days, though you may not be able to gain too much just from the titles and short summaries. The ‘hot news’, however, can be accessed for free, and is located in the lower central section of the home page. These are updated regularly, though not quite daily. Free subscriptions of the weekly summary collection are also available; you can search for it online or contact me and I can sign you up. 

This is sounding more and more like an advertisement, which is not my intention. Yet while you can generally follow along with most of our life here via the blog, the newsletter can give greater insight into religious Egypt in general, and our broader work of which I have only a part. As with all things, you are warmly invited to learn along with us. That you keep up with us at any level, however, is received as a gift.

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Personal

Omar, the Devil

The other night we went downstairs to visit our doorman’s family (see other story).  One of the girls of the family, Hibba, was having a birthday, and wanted us to come down. Due to her mom’s health, still having trouble recovering from her brain surgery, Hibba wasn’t able to have a party, but it seemed important for us to at least stop by.  It was kind of an awkward time as I think Hibba was busy doing things for her mom and she wasn’t around much.  We ended up sitting at her mom’s bedside and talking a little bit with her as she drifted in and out of sleep. 

There was one other member of the family present most of the time, and that was the four year old, youngest child and only son, Omar.  Now, if you ask Emma, she’ll probably tell you Omar is one of her friends.  He is the first child we met here at our apartment, and they have played together a few times.  He was the only child to attend her three-year old birthday party as we held that a couple weeks after moving into our apartment.  I have invited him to our apartment numerous times to play, but his whole family–sisters, mom and dad–have all said that, no, he can’t come, because he is a naughty boy… in their words, a “satan.”  (Now, this may just be a language/cultural thing that I don’t understand, but if a child is misbehaved and somewhat or very out of control, they are called “shaytaan,” which translates “devil or Satan.”  I don’t think it’s quite literal, but as one not a part of the culture, I kind of hear it as literal.) I feel bad that he has this stigma, but truthfully, I have seen it exhibited.  However, I still wish he could come to our house to play sometimes.  On the selfish side, it would be so much easier for me to be in my own place with the kids, but on the positive side, I, perhaps proudly, feel that I could handle him in our house.  I wouldn’t let him get away with things, and he would have no choice but to stay within our boundaries … or leave.  I may be naive in thinking that my “child-raising techniques” could work with him, but I guess that the challenge would be fun too.  Anyway, regardless of my lofty ambitions, his family doesn’t want him to come to our place.  This means Emma’s chance to play with him is down at his house. 

One of the things that makes it difficult for me to take the girls there is that so much of their property is outside, with lots of dust, dirt and animal droppings, not to mention miscellaneous trash that attracts Hannah’s attention.  I have a hard time sitting, drinking tea, and listening to the mom talk, while keeping one eye on Hannah and the other eye on Emma.  Now that the weather is getting cooler, it may be easier as we move inside, but that has its challenges too.  And this particular visit, the challenge was Omar. 

When we arrived at the house, the birthday girl was busy, but Omar quickly ran to some special spot outside, and retrieved a large bag of mostly broken toys and toy parts.  He seemed excited to show Emma his toys and play together.  Take note that he did play in our house during Emma’s party and enjoyed the two boxes of unbroken toys that she has.  So, at first, he took the toys out one by one and seemed to let Emma and Hannah play with them as they wished.  At one point, he pulled out a pair of binoculars and this grabbed Emma’s attention.  She asked for them, but he put them around his neck instead.  No big deal, they are his toys, he certainly doesn’t have to share.  Emma really wanted to play with the binoculars and made her request known the best she could without really speaking the same language as him.  It seemed that the more interested she was in what he had, the more he wanted to withhold things.  I think at one point, either I or his sister conviced him to let Emma hold the binoculars, but after about 10 seconds, he started to cry.  Now, I’ve seen this before with him … he is finally convinced to share something, then he starts to cry, and his sister says, “sorry Emma, I’m so sorry.”  Meaning: Omar wants something; you can’t play with it any more … give it back.  So, she gave the binoculars back at which time he put all the toys back in the big bag, and stuffed the bag under the bed as far as could reach.  Emma looked at me sadly, “why is he doing that?”  Hmmm, what to say.  “Because he’s a spoiled brat.”  “Because he is mean.”  “Because he is a bully.”  These were the responses that came to my mind immediately, but I don’t want Emma to see him as the “Satan” that people say he is.  (By the way, they call him this to his face as well, so he has a reputation to live up to.)  So, I thought about it awhile, and said, “I’m really sorry, Emma, that Omar isn’t being very kind right now.  It’s not nice to not share your toys.  But they are his toys, and he can do with them what he wants.  You know what else, his mom is very sick, and he is probably sad, but he can’t understand what’s happening.  I’m sorry it makes you sad, I would be sad too.” 

I hope that was a good answer for Emma.  I know I can’t protect her forever from getting hurt by others, but of course, I want to as long as I can.  I want her to learn from kids who aren’t nice, that it’s exactly that, “not nice.”  At least this way, it’s useful for something to interact with kids like this.  Maybe it will prevent Emma from being mean in the future.  But really, what’s most important?  I want her to see Omar as a person who isn’t perfect, but deserves our love and kindness, regardless of what he does.  Sure, that’s the ideal, but in such a simple offense, we can do that.  As Emma grows and the offenses do too, that will get harder and harder.  I pray God gives us wisdom to help Emma learn these things, as we do too.  We all have a long way to go.

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Personal

Grace in Loss

If you are a soccer fan, you probably already know the result. If you are not, you probably don’t care that much about knowing or not knowing. In either case, we hope the following account is amusing, if a bit disturbing. The title is not meant to be about the Egyptian people, but to be about God, at least in one perspective.

As Julie wrote the other day, I was at a monastery the past three days, and missed the monumental, last minute victory by Egypt over Algeria, forcing a playoff in Sudan. I did not miss the news reports leading up to the match, however, in which Egyptian fans stoned the Algerian bus as it drove into Cairo, injuring two players and giving a concussion to a trainer. Football was far from the minds of the monks, however, and there was even posted a sign to visitors to keep news from the outside to a minimum. Still, Julie texted me excitedly as Egypt’s late tally meant a winner-take-all playoff.

Coming home I discovered the match was to be played on Wednesday, on which I have my evening class at the Orthodox Biblical Institute. I have missed a couple classes due to work, and excused myself from the Monday class due to my stay at the monastery. I was hoping they would not count that, at least, against me. Not wanting to miss again, however, I would nevertheless catch the conclusion as my class ended at 9pm, while the match would end at 9:30, barring extra time.

When I arrived at the Institute the priest was late which didn’t bother any of the few students who had bothered to show up. My class is about fifty people strong, and there were only about fifteen who came. The presiding professor named 7:30 as the time we would abandon the class, but the priest came with fifteen minutes to spare, and class began. Of course, no one was really upset, since they had all chosen God over soccer just in attending. Class took awkward pauses every couple minutes, though, as a roar went up outside every time something exciting happened. The church which hosts the Institute had set up a large screen in the courtyard, and there were perhaps one hundred people gathered below our window, three floors down.

The priest decided to have mercy and ended the class after only an hour, and as we exited we heard the groan. Algeria scored to go up 1-0 just before the half. I saw the goal, actually, on the cell phone of one of my classmates who had fancy internet connectivity. He had offered me before the class started to sit beside him and watch; I did not, but I don’t know if he had earlier been sneaking or not.

We all descended to watch the second half, during which Algeria defended their lead resolutely. Egypt mustered a few chances, but the game ended weakly and everyone left quietly and disappointedly. My friend with the magical cell phone motioned for us to leave, and we quickly boarded the near-empty metro car to go home.

Along the way my friend’s one comment was that this was probably for the best. In fact, it was an act of God’s mercy. In the days leading up to the game certain Algerians had retaliated against Egyptian workers in their country. My friend took consolation in the loss, for if Egypt had won the Algerians would have slaughtered the Christian Egyptians in their midst. It was their nature, he said, they are savage and barbaric. Egyptian Christians, some will claim, can have difficulty with their Muslim neighbors, but Algerians are altogether in a different class.

So Egypt missed out once again; it has been since 1990 that they participated in a World Cup, though they are regularly one of the top teams in Africa, and have won the continental tournament several times in this stretch. I would have much preferred a victory. It would have made this summer more interesting if Egypt was involved, besides the fun I would have had in celebrating out and about in the streets. Where God’s wisdom lies however, is beyond my ability to fathom, but in a religious society such as this, many do not hesitate to interpret.

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Personal

Crazy for Soccer

I should have known that the soccer match coming up was a big one, when I saw the large announcement posted outside the main entrance to the Coptic Church in town.  Between the pictures and a few Arabic words that I could make out quickly, I noticed that the church was hosting a showing of the upcoming soccer game between Egypt and Algeria.  It wasn’t until a few days later, that our neighbor/landlord told us that it was a qualifier for the world cup.  Egypt, who has won the Africa cup a few times lately, was in danger of not making it to the world cup.  I learned that they had to win this game by 3 goals to advance.  Only 2 goals meant a rematch in a neutral country.

Unfortunately Jayson was out of town and beyond the reach of television during this game, otherwise, he may have been able to participate in the hype and excitement as he gathered with Egyptians to watch.  For me, the game started at 7:30 on a Saturday night…just about the time I was giving the girls a bath and putting them to bed.  We don’t have a television in our house, so I wasn’t going to watch, but I was cheering for Egypt as it would make for a more interesting World Cup this summer if the country we reside in was playing.

Two days before the game we got an alert email from the US embassy in Cairo.  It informed us of the game coming up, and urged all US citizens to stay away from the area of the stadium due to crazy traffic and the possibility of riots–even non-violent ones–before or after the game.  It seemed a little over the top to me.  Sure, I would avoid the area like crazy.  Don’t want to deal with the crowds and traffic, but I wondered about the threat of riots.

As I walked around town today, the day of the game, I could see the number of Egyptian flags had increased on cars and in shops and from people’s homes.  People were gearing up for the big game.  As I was doing my errands that day, a girl from a local shop stopped me to ask if I was cheering for Egypt.  “Of course,” I replied.  She seemed tickled by that.  I really don’t know how I couldn’t cheer for them, and still live here.  We talked a bit about the game and I showed my knowledge of the situation.  She said that if they didn’t advance tonight, but still won, the next game would be played in Sudan.

So, 7:30 rolled around and I gave the girls a bath and put them in bed.  I had some things to do after that and was busy in the kitchen around 9:30 when I heard a loud cheer go up from our building.  It was a collective cheer from below, above, outside and inside.  I thought, they must have won!  I quickly ran to my neighbors and rang her bell.  She came to the door quickly and returned to the TV even more quickly. 

“Did they win?”  I asked.

“No, just scored a second goal.  There’s only a few minutes left.” 

She kept watching the screen, cheering, holding her breath, getting down on her knees, shivering with excitement as Egypt had another good chance on goal.  (Take note that my landlord is a 50 year old mother of 3 grown sons.)  Another minute passed and the game ended.  Another loud cheer went up and all of Egypt celebrated their team’s victory.  I still think it meant they had to play another game, but at least they were still alive.  That was only the beginning of the celebration.

Now it is about 11:30pm and I was planning to be asleep by now.  But it’s near impossible as people are cheering and horns are beeping and sirens are wailing all around.  Our building is not located in a loud place…we rarely hear traffic besides the minivans that begin their route in front of our building.  But we are right next to a bridge that runs out of town, and for the last two hours, people have been constantly beeping their horns as they drive over the bridge.  I just keep praying that all this noise doesn’t wake the girls up! 

I’m glad for them–the team, the people of Egypt.  It’s probably something that unifies this country…Muslims and Christians alike.  I hope Egypt advances and does well, but right now, I would really like to sleep!  Oh well, that can be difficult in a country that doesn’t really sleep on a normal day until 2am.  It’s just that on this night, there is national permission to celebrate loudly and freely…probably until people fizzle out around 2am.  I hope I sleep before that!

 

Postscript: The rematch in Sudan is this evening, so the country is enraptured once again. Even Emma the other day chanted. “Go Masr, Go Masr!” (‘Masr’ is Arabic for ‘Egypt’.) We hope they win, even if it costs us another night’s sleep.