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Weekly Meeting with the Pope

His Holiness Pope Shenouda III, Pope of the Co...

Pope Shenouda (87), head of the Coptic Orthodox Church, is a busy man. For 39 years he has presided over the spiritual – and often political – affairs of Egypt’s Christians, having become pope in 1971. Underneath him are over 100 bishops who administrate local and international dioceses as well as specific programs and activities of the church. He spends [in theory] three days a week in Alexandria, the seat of the historic papal see, three days in Cairo, the center of church governance, and one day in the Monastery of St. Bishoy in the desert of Wadi Natroun, for isolation and prayer, though in practice it is sometimes more. Yet each week he takes one evening – Wednesday at 6pm – to be with the people, answer their questions, and deliver a short homily. This past Wednesday we at Arab West Report had the privilege of attendance.

St. Mark’s Cathedral is located in downtown Cairo and is the central church building for the Orthodox of Egypt. It can accommodate several thousand worshipers and was filled to near capacity during our visit. We arrived about one hour early and slipped into the throng which was bottle-necking at the metal detector. Two weeks earlier al-Qaeda in Iraq issued threats against the Coptic Christians of Egypt, and security has been vigilant since then. Entrance was granted only upon presentation of the national identity card with the marking of ‘Christian’ for the religion field, or else the tattoo of a cross on one’s hand. Once inside, however, the masses organized themselves into an orderly line, stretching from the door of the church, out into the courtyard, around the bend and across the top of the stairs, and then down into the parking lot.

Having neither the identity card nor the tattooed cross, our substituted foreign passports afforded us special privilege. We were advanced to the front of the line, were ushered through a second metal detector, and brought to the very first pew, replete with listening devices for translation.

The evening began with the chanting of a choir. Each week a church is selected to supply this ancient Coptic art during the meeting; representation today was from Akhmim, nearly 300 miles to the south of Cairo. About thirty young men and women dressed in purple presented praise to God and prayers for Pope Shenouda. After about an hour of intermittent performance, they moved in procession past the pope, who greeted them individually.

The evening’s events are televised regularly on two Coptic channels – CTV, affiliated with the church and founded by Christian businessman Tharwat Basily, and Aghabi (the Coptic word for ‘love’), owned by Bishop Botros. You can watch online, if desired, at www.ctvchannel.tv. The station honors the pope with the title ‘the teacher of generations’. Certainly in this generation the title is appropriate, as Pope Shenouda, though 87 years old, enjoys rock star status among many Coptic Christians. Egged on by the mounted extension cameras operated by the networks as they scanned the audience, those in attendance would stand, cheer, and wave pictures of the pope above their heads. The scene resembled a professional sporting event more than a religious gathering.

As the pope prepared to speak, however, all were quiet. During the choir performance the pope was handed small slips of paper from the audience, and he read them over as they sang. Over the next hour and a half he read personal questions and gave answers as his wisdom dictated. The pope is known for his sharp wit and sense of humor; though most of the time we failed in translation to appreciate the joke, the audience chuckled regularly.

Pope Shenouda selected a wide range of questions, perhaps forty in all. Some were theological. Question: What will happen to the bodies of those saints who were translated directly into heaven? Answer: They will appear in the last days, be killed, and then rise again in the resurrection.

Question: My priest said that if a man repents of his sin there will be no punishment for it, is he correct? Answer: If a priest says there is no punishment, he himself should be punished. There is forgiveness for sin, but there are also consequences.

Some were political / ecclesiastical.

Question: I read in the paper that the trial of so-and-so had taken place and he was found guilty, is this correct?

Answer: You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the papers (this line generated the greatest applause throughout the night).

Question: My priest says that there are two tithes that must be paid, is this correct?

Answer: No, there is only one tithe, but additional offerings are welcome and blessed by God, but voluntary. Furthermore, priests and bishops also have to pay the tithe, as they are not exempt and should serve as your models (this line generated the second greatest applause throughout the night).

Some were personal.

Question: My brother asked me to quit my job and work with him, but once I did so he failed to pay me my share of the money; what should be done?

Answer: Your brother should pay you the money.

Question: It is very difficult for my mother in Upper Egypt to take care of housework, especially now that her washing machine has broken; what can be done?

Answer: We can buy her a new washing machine, but she should take better care of it than she did the old one.

Eventually, the pope set the papers aside. There was a short break, but then he began his closing meditation. Entitled ‘Its end will come’, he spoke of how our problems in this world may be troubling, but that as our faith tells us God will eventually put everything right, we can endure with patience. He laced his message with several stories taken from the Bible and church history, including Job, David, and Athanasius facing multiple exiles during the Arian controversy.

The end was abrupt. The pope delivered his closing sentence, stood, and was ushered away – slowly, of course, as is appropriate for an 87 year old man. The bishops filtered out in turn, and many in the audience also stood to leave. An official of some nature rose and gave the closing benediction, but few were paying attention. Pope Shenouda had left the building.

Now, the audience faced the same challenge. Several thousand people cannot leave an area quickly. They all filed out into the parking lot, moving like sand in an hourglass trying to pass through the main gate back out into the Cairo streets. A small group of ten to twenty stood on the steps of the building adjacent to the church and chanted for Pope Shenouda, as if they wanted an encore (they received none). Eventually, we found our way out the gate as well, and proceeded home, thankful for the experience, but somewhat out of sorts with what took place.

There is always much to learn, and as foreigners, we must remember it takes us longer than normal to do so here. I was raised in a low church tradition, without religious hierarchy. I know the celebrity certain pastors in the United States have attained, but this surpassed them all. I cannot recall that even the Catholic pope has been so openly adored. Pope John Paul II had the admiration of many, but this level of affection was more akin to that given to Michael Jordan in the NBA.

Furthermore, I cannot say that I was won over by his ‘performance’. The pope’s answers did not seem especially profound, and the homily was simply a listing of stories rather than a deep theological treatise or affecting discourse. Most likely I am yet insufficient in appreciating Coptic spirituality; perhaps it was simply an off night. After all, on occasion even Michael Jordan shot 6 for 19 from the field, but was still applauded wildly. Pope Shenouda has authored over 100 books; his theological and spiritual stature should not be questioned.

Even so, an explanation for the wild approbation may be found in similarity to the aforementioned saint in Pope Shenouda’s message. Athanasius was the 20th pope of the Coptic Orthodox Church (Shenouda is the 117th), but was much more than that. At a time in which Egypt was feeling imperial pressures from Constantinople, the largely Christian population of Egypt found in him a rallying point and embodiment of national sentiment. Arianism as a heresy doubted the divine nature of Christ, but political maneuverings in the post-Constantine Roman Empire raised the question of who was responsible for local ecclesiastical affairs. Athanasius was the people’s choice – defending orthodoxy made him a saint; defending his flock made him a hero.

Many Coptic Orthodox Christians today applaud Pope Shenouda in a similar manner, even though they are now a minority, and  his cause is not the nation. Rather, the pope speaks of himself as ‘the father of his children’, and he is looked to as the defender of Christian interests. Religious identity is on the rise among many Egyptians in both Christianity and Islam, which can almost be explained as a near-nationalism. Very few Egyptians, in fact, speak of a sense of pride in their country. It has been replaced, rightly or wrongly, with religious sentiment.

Pope Shenouda therefore, is at the crest of this sentiment. As many Christians believe their community to be beleaguered by Muslims and government alike, they look to the pope as the one figure who can represent them. Copts have little widely regarded secular leadership; only the pope can fill this role.

During his weekly meeting Pope Shenouda did not appear to pay much attention to his applause. On occasion he waved his hand to quiet them down. Another time he announced that people should descend from the scaffolding (as Zacchaeus with Jesus) so as to avoid injury. Most of the time, he had a wry smile on his face, but never seemed to revel in the moment. At the same time, he did little to stop it, and I had the impression that this happens every week.

Similarly, I am still too inexperienced to know Pope Shenouda’s attitude toward his leadership of the Christian community. Does he know the reality and shoulder the burden? Has he sought this position and defended his territory? As noted, he lays claim to being the spiritual father for his children, but does this go beyond their Christian faith into their public lives?

Good analysis can try to untangle these questions; much analysis has attempted it already. For now I am content in the ambiguity of the question, but being content does not mean being at ease. With Pope Shenouda as with the weekly meeting, there is much to appreciate, but there is a lingering unsettledness. Surely this is natural, as no Christian life is perfect. Yet for the Copts of Egypt, finding that note of serene balance is essential in navigating the challenges before them. May God guide them, and with them all of Egypt.

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How Many Days of Christmas?

The Christmas season is upon us and we are enjoying watching Emma and Hannah learn about the Christmas story.  We are doing a few new things this year with them in mind, and it’s been fun to watch.  At the same time, I wonder what confusion they may be experiencing, particularly with the “days of Christmas” in the land of Egypt. First, a new song.

Last month, a good friend gave the girls a new book called, “The Twelve New Days of Christmas”, by Bonnie Fite.  It’s a great new rendition of the old song many of us are familiar with, but it uses elements from the Bible story instead of some odd combination of birds and musicians.  Emma already has the whole thing memorized and Hannah is close behind (see video here).   What a perfect way to learn all the different parts of Jesus’ story of arrival on this earth.

The song goes like this:

  • On the first day of Christmas, my true Lord gave to me, the Babe in a manger bed.
  • 2nd – two earthly parents
  • 3rd – three wise men
  • 4th – four elder saints (referring to Elizabeth and Zechariah, parents of Jesus’ cousin, John; and also, Simeon and Anna, two saints at the temple)
  • 5th – five Roman guards (referring to the only sad part of the Christmas story where King Herod sends his soldiers to kill the babies in Bethlehem)
  • 6th – six chickens clucking (the author admits to taking some liberties here, but says that certainly there were chickens in the stable with Jesus)
  • 7th – seven kings in waiting (referring to seven good kings in the line of Jesus in the Old Testament days)
  • 8th – eight shepherds praising
  • 9th – nine sheep a-bleating
  • 10th – ten prophets predicting (referring to those who prophesied the coming Messiah)
  • 11th – eleven people sleeping (referring to all the people visiting Bethlehem for the census)
  • 12th – twelve thousand angels (with the shepherds at the manger)

So this started our “days of Christmas” with the idea of twelve days.

Meanwhile, last year we bought a wall hanging Christmas tree that also works as an advent calendar.  We bought it from the people who do handiwork at the recycling center in Muqattam, otherwise known as ‘Trash City’, here in Cairo.   But last year we didn’t use it as an advent calendar as it required some thinking about what could actually fit on the hanging.  My mom and niece and nephews helped out this year and sent us some great little ornaments to pull out each day, so now we can use it and count down the twenty-four days until Christmas!

To add to this number confusion, in Egypt, we will celebrate Christmas on two different dates, December 25 and January 7. Most of Egypt’s Christians belong to the Coptic Orthodox church, and they celebrate Jesus’ birth on January 7.  However, we are Western Christians and have always celebrated on December 25 as much of the world does, and so, we will have some sort of celebration on each of the days.  One other item that is mildly confusing is that many of our Egyptian Muslim friends, and even some Christian ones, seem to assume that we celebrate Christmas on December 31; I suppose this is because the televised celebrations in America are much more pronounced on that day.  They see fireworks and big parties and people “counting down to the New Year” and assume this is our big holiday.  You might say we have three Christmas dates to consider.

So all these things may confuse our preschoolers as to when Christmas actually is, but we’re thankful they are learning more about the Biblical story and less about the ever-present Santa Claus.  This is the first year we put out a play nativity scene which they enjoy every morning, acting out Mary and Joseph in the stable, the angels announcing the baby’s birth, the shepherds coming to see the baby and the wise men going on a long journey to find baby Jesus in Bethlehem.  (We hide the wise men somewhere in the house after they go to sleep.)

Emma and Hannah are learning familiar Christmas carols like “Away in a Manger” and “Joy to the World,” and belting them out for all to hear.  Emma even may sing in her first Christmas concert this year, appropriately enough, on New Year’s Eve.  So whatever date you celebrate and whatever your traditions may be, our family wishes you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, and then another Merry Christmas.

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Personal

Out on the Island

Last week we had a fun opportunity with a small group from the Coptic Church in Maadi.  I have been attending a “family Sunday school” class which consists mostly of women.  This class meets during the time Emma and Hannah are in their Sunday school class, and it is conveniently located in the same building.  This allows me to be available if Emma or Hannah needs something from me during class time.  I have enjoyed in this class, although since Layla was born, it is harder for me to attend and actually listen and understand what is being said.  It has allowed me to get to know a few more people, at least by face, and perhaps not be so strange to them.  When I received an email mentioning a class trip, I got excited for two reasons.  First of all, trips like this always make it easier to get to know people at a deeper level.  Even though people in the class are friendly to me, we haven’t actually talked very much.  Spending all day in a different setting would definitely provide time for conversations.  Secondly, the location of the trip was to be “Jazeerat al-Maadi” or the Maadi Island.  This was a place we had seen on the Nile, and Jayson and I had recently been unsuccessful in visiting it ourselves, as we were not allowed without Egyptians accompanying us.  We would now have an opportunity to visit what looked like a really nice spot.

We were not disappointed in either of our expectations.  When we arrived at the church at 8:30 on Friday morning, my friendly classmates said how glad they were that we were going with them for the day.  They were glad to meet Jayson and see the girls.  Some seem surprised we were attending, but happy nonetheless.  Around 9am, we boarded the bus to take us on the ten-minute drive to the island, and were surprised that the organizer of the trip (who is also responsible for the class in general) seemed quite upset about the few people who were late for the bus.  We have learned that Egyptian appointments aren’t exactly punctual, and didn’t really expect many to be there for the 8:30 meeting time.  But apparently we were supposed to be at the island by 9 for a tour, and the one responsible was not happy that we would be late.  She gave a short lecture about punctuality and how we need to be punctual if we expect our kids to respect this trait themselves.

We left the church and arrived at the island very quickly.  We took the three girls down with our backpacks as we had brought a few snacks and drinks for the kids.

We all just walked right onto the island, although somehow, we stuck out as foreigners because one man did stop us briefly.  We told him we were with the group and he waved us on.  It was nice and quiet on the island as no other Egyptians were there so early in the morning.  In fact, I wondered if we had a private party because I didn’t see anyone outside our group until around 11 or 12.  We all went to a shaded area of tables and chairs right next to a modern and clean playground on grass!

The girls were so excited and immediately began to play.  We found some chairs to sit in and settled Layla, who was sleeping in her carseat, in a quiet corner.  It was a comfortable spot to spend the day.

We took a short ride around the island in what looked like a very long golf cart which could seat about 10-12 people.

There wasn’t too much to see outside of a couple restaurants, lots of green grass, some nice flowers and the Nile.

It was an interesting view … the quiet, serene green of the island with the backdrop of the high-rise apartment buildings right across the busy road.

It seems where we were situated was the main activity hub of the island.  It was good to get a view of the rest of the place, but we didn’t have any need to go there on this day.

Our whole family enjoyed a leisurely afternoon participating in different activities:

Jayson has been teaching the girls how to play chess, so they played a little game with him.

Hannah is learning the names of the pieces … here she wonders where to move the pawn.

Jayson was also challenged to three good matches from some of the men in the group.  He won them all, and even had an audience by the end.

We were surprised at the large collection of bikes they had available to ride.  I think there was normally a charge for them, but ours was included in the cost of the trip.

Emma spent hours riding bikes and jumping on the trampoline.  She came home exhausted and sunburned and got pretty sick that night!

Hannah enjoyed the bikes too, although she couldn’t quite pedal.  She mostly climbed on the playground and went on the swings.  Most of the time she had a few older girls following her around and helping her.  This was a great help for me too as I got to sit and chat with some of the other women.

Even Layla got in on the action.  Whenever she was awake and not eating, she was in someone else’s arms.  She was a big hit, being passed around and photographed.  There are at least three phones taking a picture here.

It was a great trip that we all enjoyed very much. It’s just a shame we can’t visit on our own, but may help us make sure we’re on the lookout for more Egyptian visits!

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Personal

Orthodoxy, Year Two

St. Mary & St. Antonious Coptic Orthodox Church
Image by Number1Son via Flickr

How long do experiments last? What does commitment mean in an experiment? Is it right to experiment with church?

Having returned from a short vacation in America, we are now beginning our second year of life in Egypt. The first year was very good, and we are happy to return. While acknowledging our status as foreigners, we like to live as Egyptian a life as possible, which includes worshiping in the Orthodox Church. Orthodoxy is the denomination of the vast majority of Egyptian Christians, and though it is not our own, last year we joined in as best we could. God’s church is one, and though we may or may not agree with all of Orthodoxy’s distinctive tenets, we desire to signal our support and serve Christ’s body.

Our reception has been welcoming, but tepid. While we have described this in the past, beginning again in year two we face again the same reality. By now more than a few people know and greet us, and we have learned better the rhythm of the service and the liturgical year. We are not yet comfortable, in the way an old shoe is comfortable, but we are still not sure if the new shoe fits. Still, it is better than being barefoot.

In our estimation, being a Christian is expressed in a significant way through commitment to a local congregation of believers. Namely, we go to service, we get to know people, we explore opportunities to serve. These actions, and others, are necessary, but they are not the essence of commitment. Rather, commitment is an attitude that says, ‘This is my church.’ The response of others may make this easier or harder, but commitment is a decision dependent only on one’s self.

But have we committed? We began our attendance as an experiment, to see if the church could serve as our spiritual home in Egypt. We desired it to be; it is consistent with the sense of belonging that drives our attitude toward overseas life. I think it is clear, though, that experimentation and commitment are not synonyms. Perhaps beginning year two, we are realizing this. What does it mean for us?

An attitude of experimenting can be a means of resisting full commitment, but it is not the only one. I have previously described the non-uniform Coptic tendency to leave early or come late. In fact, it is a common habit of many Copts here to enter the Mass near its conclusion, partake of communion – necessary as the literal body and blood of Jesus – and then leave, or, enjoy meeting up with their friends and socializing.

Today one of the priests deviated from the timeless repetition of the Mass. As the congregants were approaching to receive the host, he announced that the entire Mass was holy, and the Bible readings and sermon (done earlier in the service) were also necessary for the life of the Christian. One should not take communion unless he attended the whole Mass.

The whole Mass is very long. It begins around 7am, and ends around 11am. Perhaps aware of this, yet frustrated by the many deliberate latecomers, he did not speak absolutely. Rather, he ended his interjection by saying that no one would be denied Christ’s body and blood, but that each person was responsible for himself.

We, meanwhile, may not partake, as we have not been baptized Orthodox. By now we are quite used to this, and I do not write from frustration. Neither do I wish to trigger in the reader any sense of injustice. I mean, perhaps, to highlight that belonging depends on more than commitment.

As a note, we aim to arrive at Mass at least by 9am, in time for the Gospel reading and sermon. Our commitment, as exposed by the priest, is partial at best.

The latecomers, technically, in the Orthodox theological sense, belong to the church, even if their commitment is lacking. Yet their commitment is there – they do come. We, in the Orthodox theological sense, do not belong to the church, even if our commitment is present and our belonging is desired.

We are not Orthodox, but we are able to accept them as fellow Christians. By and large, they are able to do the same with us. Yet we are not the same, and in this reality there is that which keeps us viewing ourselves as if in a glass, darkly. Will it keep us ever experimenting, no matter our commitment? Must belonging at church involve mutual acceptance? If we are barred from communion, the central act of Orthodox worship, can we belong? We can commit, we can serve, we can attend. Can we be one? Is the church truly so? Is it all an experiment? Is this appropriate, for either them or us?

Year two begins with such questions. Please feel free to share your impressions.

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Legality, Appropriateness, and Engagement

Dr. Martin Luther King giving his "I Have...
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Today Glen Beck led a rally in Washington, DC on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial where Martin Luther King, Jr. gave his famous ‘I have a dream’ speech. In fact, today was the anniversary of that speech, which came to symbolize the struggle and eventual triumph of the civil rights movement. Beck denied he knew about the congruity of dates until after he planned the rally, but this denial has not stopped many from labeling this rally as an offense to the legacy of King.

I will confess to not following this issue too closely. I understand Beck to be a conservative and religion-friendly newscaster, but do not know exactly what he does or does not support in detail, outside of the fairly obvious battle lines in American politics. Furthermore, I have no insight as to whether or not he is playing games with the civil rights history of our nation, but I do also see what appears to be a highly symbolic convergence of imagery. Is he honoring the legacy, exploiting and redefining it, or just, as he confessed, ignorant of the whole matter?

Perhaps given that I have not closely followed this controversy, I can easily connect it to another controversy I have not followed closely: the Ground Zero mosque. (It is an advantage of living overseas that the headline dominating news stories in the US are received with considerably fewer decibels.)

In both cases it is clear that those engaged in the controversial activity have the right to do so. Glen Beck obtained the necessary permits to conduct a rally on national property, and the mosque/community center organizers own the land on which they seek to build and have received zoning clearance to do so.

It is also clear that those who are protesting do not challenge the legality of these endeavors, but their appropriateness. Many African-Americans and their then-liberal supporters in the civil rights struggle do not share the conservative worldview of Glen Beck. They find it offensive that he advance his agenda on the same day, at the very spot that their hero’s dream is most enshrined.

Meanwhile, many New Yorkers and Americans of all stripes have defined Ground Zero as sacred ground, after the devastating attacks perpetrated there in the name of Islam. Most of these would not oppose a mosque being built elsewhere, regardless of what they think of Islam as a religion. Why, however, build it there? Even if the mosque represents Islam of another stripe, why plant its flag at the gate of such an atrocity?

The response of an individual to the sense of appropriateness may vary, as may the ‘logical’ assessment of these claims. What is disturbing in both cases, however, is that opponents are seeking either to stop or sully the endeavors through loud and distant protest. Consider: If those in favor agreed their efforts were inappropriate, would they have undertaken them? And since they do not, will they be convinced by rancor and misinformed assumptions of intent, cast from afar?

Certainly the masses feel helpless. What can a patriot in Virginia do to influence Imam Faisal in New York? How can an activist in California effect Beck in DC? Let the cry be heard in the media, on the radio, in a blog. None of this, however, has any influence on law. Worse, it has contrary affect on the people involved.

Opposition and controversy, especially when loud and public, generally serves only to cement someone in their opinions. If there is a way forward, however, imagining for a moment that these endeavors are not appropriate, it can only be found in engagement. It is possible to change the mind of a friend. Very little in the public discourse concerning either Glen Beck or Ground Zero, however, is contributing toward bridge building. On the contrary, all seems polarizing.

Here in Egypt there is a similar, though not identical, issue surrounding church building. The law is ambiguous; there is no formal discrimination but the process of gaining approval is universally acknowledged as difficult. In places a church can be constructed quickly and easily; in others the plans labor for years waiting for the governor (the governor!) to give his approval.

Oftentimes Christians decide to go ahead and build anyway (as will Muslims, at times, with a mosque), knowing that if they can get the building up then the government will not knock it down. There is far less public relations damage for a stalled authorization process than for the demolition of a house of worship. The former will languish on the desk of a bureaucrat; the latter may attract international condemnation.

Very few Egyptian Muslims would argue that there is no place for a church in a Muslim nation. It is not uncommon, however, to hear their protest that this church is too close to a mosque, or that the church steeple equals or exceeds the height of the tallest minaret in a village. Frustrated by delays in authorization Christians will often proceed without consulting their Muslim neighbors. Feeling threatened or dishonored, Muslims have sometimes reacted in violence, damaging the building that has been constructed as an affront.

Many Christians and Muslims will argue that the situation must be remedied by law – that is, a clear and impartial system must be created to govern the building of all houses of worship. There is much merit in this discussion. Unfortunately, many of these same advocates for religious freedom stop there. They press the need for legal reform, but do not continue to engage the opposite community on the ground, in real relationships.

For people on the ground, however, the issue of church building is not one of law, but of appropriateness. The law may force their hand, but this only results in furthering community tension. Neither Muslims nor Christians profit from this situation. Yet since few Muslims would oppose the right of Christians to build a church, overcoming the issue of its appropriateness can only be done through engagement.

There are examples in which Christians have taken the sensibilities of Muslims into account and have won full, legal authorization to build churches. There are also examples where they have acted independently, and have stoked the fires of sectarian tension.

The din of struggle and opposition will always be heard over the quiet, dogged pursuit of relationship. In both the cases of Glen Beck and Ground Zero, there may have been extensive efforts at engagement that have gone unreported, since engagement is not conducted in front of cameras.

At the same time, engagement is insincere if it is only seeking its own interest. I might sit down with my opponent once for tea to hear his argument, but if he only repeats his position each and every time, I will no longer invite him over. Engagement is willing to see the other side, validate, and appeals in humility to that which it desires.

Many today, both inside and outside of Egypt believe that sectarian tension is increasing rapidly. This is due to the same phenomena that dominate media coverage of Glen Beck and Ground Zero. These polarizing images ignore the many efforts at racial reconciliation engaged in by both liberals and conservatives. They ignore the fact that most Muslims in America live a normal middle class lifestyle in complete peace and tolerance with their neighbors.

Similarly, most Muslims and Christians in Egypt live together in peace. Where there is tension it must be addressed. Where an issue arises the media must cover it. In the face of real difficulties in certain places, though, the assertion of peace may ring hollow. If so, it does reflect a growing pattern, not of tension, but of disengagement. While percentage-wise the troubles are few, the level of harmonious interaction between Muslims and Christians decreases ever so slightly, but steadily.

This is the risk America now faces in the issues of Glen Beck and Ground Zero. Polarizing voices and opinions only serve to lessen consensus and engagement. On either racial or religious grounds, the genuine peace which exists between all Americans may ring increasingly hollow. If so, it is because these normal Americans have disengaged from their diverse communities, finding fellowship only with their kin.

Though God is often portrayed as the one with the loudest voice of all, silencing his opposition by power of miracle, he is also characterized by stillness and whisper. Jesus spoke of God’s Spirit as a gentle wind, with man knowing not from whence it came or where it is going. Many today in pursuit of their agendas

usurp God’s right of bombastic pronouncement. We would do better to search instead for his whisper, finding places where he is at work, but quietly, and ignored by most of those around.

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Communion

Tonight I attended the weekly service at the local international evangelical church.  We attend there sporadically, maybe once every three months, as we have been worshipping at the Orthodox Church, hoping to learn more and participate in the primary church of Egypt.

Since it was the first Sunday of the month, as is typical in many evangelical churches I know, it was also communion Sunday.  It was the first time in awhile that I had taken communion, which is somewhat strange since this is offered every week in the Orthodox Church.  Due to doctrinal differences, however, but mainly to the fact that we haven’t been baptized Orthodox, while we are welcome to attend the service, we are not welcome to partake in communion.

It was an interesting experience for me after being away from it for so long, and witnessing a different tradition in the meantime.  Many thoughts ran through my head:

“Oh yes, the first Sunday of the month … communion Sunday.”

“The pastor said we would come to the front to take communion … something a little different.  Why is it that the churches who do communion less frequently (such as evangelical churches who often do this once a month) are the ones who find the need to ‘change up’ the method of distributing communion? Meanwhile, the church which does this every week, or even more than that, will never change the way it is done.  Ironic.”

“The Orthodox firmly believe that the elements become the physical body and blood of Jesus.  They believe they are participating in Jesus’ suffering on the cross as they take into themselves the holy body and blood of Jesus.  They can’t let a crumb drop to the ground so they cover their mouths with a napkin after the priest puts a piece of bread in their mouth.  And yet that is not my tradition.  I simply see these elements as representing Jesus’ body and blood.  Something He told us to do to remember His suffering.  So as I put the juice-dipped bread in my mouth, I asked myself, or rather, asked Jesus, ‘Who is right?  Are you pleased with this?  What is the point of this ceremony?’”

I have often struggled with seeing Jesus’ death on the cross in a real way.  Sure, I believe it happened and I believe He did it for me, and it was a horrible, painful thing for Him.  But I’ve rarely been able to really appreciate what He went through for me.  I think it comes from growing up in the church and Jesus’ death on the cross being part of my life from childhood … it has become so familiar.  So I understand my evangelical friends who try to “change up” the way communion is presented so that it doesn’t become rote and without meaning.  We don’t want to be passive and do things out of habit.  Making us get out of our seats and walk to the front of the church gets us somewhat involved, rather than waiting for the elements to be passed to us.  And yet, we can still remember Jesus’ death in a real way, as we wait for the elements to come to us in their silver plates and miniature cups.

Another experience I’ve had was in Jordan.  Jayson and I really enjoyed our times of communion at the church we attended there.  This evangelical church followed many Brethren practices, so we had communion every week.  It was a small, intimate service which included hymn-singing and a short challenge, followed by all of us, anywhere from 15-40 people, gathered around the Lord’s table, passing along a piece of bread and breaking off a bit for ourselves.  Then we would pass around the common cup of wine, drink a sip, and wipe off the cup for the next believer to partake.  There was something special about standing there in a circle, being able to see the faces of our fellow worshippers, reciting together the passages from Corinthians regarding Paul’s teaching on the Lord’s Supper and partaking from the same loaf of bread and common cup.  Maybe I felt more of the fellowship of the saints, rather than the suffering of the Saviour, but it was a special time.

And now, unable to be part of such a fellowship on a regular basis, does this keep me from remembering Jesus’ death?  How often should I specifically seek to remember his death?  He told us to “remember His death ‘til he comes.”  My tradition seeks to do this once a month.  Others partake of the Lord’s Supper each week.  Either method leaves room for forgetting Him in between, or doing this out of habit.  Lord, let me remember your death daily, thanking you and serving you for your sacrifice for me.

Postscript: Following a post a few days ago on a similar subject – This Also is True – an Orthodox reader from the United States commented with an impassioned and Biblical defense of their view of communion. For those interested in this subject, I encourage you to take a look and consider what he says. Unfortunately, we cannot provide a link directly to his comment, but if you click on the title above and scroll down, you will find the dialogue between us. Here or there, please feel free to join in, be it to reflect and consider, support, or challenge what he has to say.

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Personal

This Also is True

The central feature of the Coptic Orthodox liturgy is the celebration of communion. Consumed as the final element of the mass, much of what comes before is preparation. Early on, before most people arrive, are Bible readings and traditional hymns, followed by a sermon aimed to connect both to the Gospel text of the day and the lives of the Coptic faithful. By then most are in attendance, and priests and congregation alike repeat the words establishing the foremost mystery – Jesus present in body and blood.

As the priest prepares the host he chants from the passage in Luke in which Jesus institutes the Lord’s Supper:

Take, eat of it, all of you, for this is my body, which is broken for you and for many, to be given for the remission of sins. Do this in remembrance of me.

The people reply: This is true. Amen.

Then follows the presentation of the cup, and the priest proclaims:

Take, drink of it, all of you, for this is my blood of the new covenant which is shed for you and for many, to be given for the remission of sins. Do this in remembrance of me.

The people reply: This also is true. Amen.

As an aside, before returning to this mystery, then follows my favorite part of the mass, in which the congregation sings:

Amen. Amen. Amen. Your death, O Lord, we proclaim. Your holy resurrection and ascension, we confess. We praise you, we bless you, we thank You, O Lord, and we entreat you, O our God.

These sentiments are repeated throughout the mass: I believe, I confess, this is true. The priest states an understanding of the Eucharist, and the people respond: Amen, amen, amen… Lord have mercy. It is as if the utter impossibility of the event itself – bread and wine becoming flesh and blood, and that of a crucified man nearly 2,000 years ago – demands constant sublimation of the message. Appropriately, at a certain interval, all are invited to prostrate before the holy host. Many are familiar with the sight of Muslims with forehead bowed in reverence to God; though pew position disallows most Copts from complete prostration, most adjust their bodies to the degree possible. In monasteries, lacking any impediments, all humble themselves with their face to the ground.

Raised in Protestant tradition, I have little connection to these pious practices. Communion is a time of remembrance, not an infusion of the transubstantiated Son of God into my being. I label them pious; upon observing the mass many would be excepted. The congregation is prompted to confirm, “This also is true” – quite a few mutter along unengaged. At the moment of prostration, group ethics demand a response, but some heads are bowed only minimally. Among the worshippers seated on the sides of the church (and thus not facing east as demanded by tradition), a good percentage fail to turn their bodies appropriately.

In these observations no disrespect is intended; the repetition of any established pattern naturally lessens the experience of its import. What I would like to highlight is the degree to which an incident today demonstrated unequivocally that Jesus’ presence is a matter of deep conviction.

When communion commences, the men line up at the left of the church, the women at the right, and they receive a cloth napkin. Upon reaching the iconostasis the priests emerge to place the bread in the mouths of the supplicants, after which they proceed to the central aisle where another priest spoons the wine. After each element is received the napkin is placed over their mouths lest anything fall to ground.

In this particular church, women tend to outnumber the men, and as such the last few minutes consist of the final few ladies making their way through the line, some of whom carry their babies who also partake. Today it so happened that one of these babies received his portion of bread, but when the mother lowered him toward the priest to pour from the spoon, the bread, unrestrained in his toothless mouth, fell to the floor.

I cannot tell if the congregation noticed. By this time most are shuffling back into their seats or even out the door. Communion is the point of church – though there are a few minor rituals remaining, many have stopped paying attention. The priest, woman, and those around, however, were jolted into confusion. Immediately the priest bent down and placed the morsel back in the baby’s mouth, as his mother looked on horrified. When it fell again the mother quickly descended to pick it up. The priest, though, was quicker, and pushed the woman’s hand away. This time he put the bread into the woman’s mouth, and mother and child filed away into the anonymity of the crowd.

This woman was the next-to-last participant, and the one after her received the wine without incident, and the priest returned behind the curtain to join his colleagues and the deacons in cleaning the communion implements. This final worshipper, however, was still a little unsettled. She looked down at the ground where the bread had fallen, stepped to the side, and walked around. She took all care that her feet would not trample on Jesus, should any of his presence remain where he fell.

What should be made of such faith? That which struck me the most was that this belief was real. Not in the sense of intellectual credence, but of tangible reality. I cannot say if these women love their families, are considerate to others, or pray on a daily basis. Do they know God? Do they love him?

They know however, at the deepest core of their being, that Jesus is present in the bread and the wine. Maybe this is not true; maybe it is only a constructed social mechanism. Yet a further question is this: Assuming, of course, that God and Jesus somehow go together, does this faith please God?

According to Biblical testimony, God seems quite ready to receive flawed faith. Elisha the prophet bid the healed leper Naaman on his way with a barrelful of dirt on which to worship God in the manner of his idolatrous understanding. Jesus healed the paralytic at the pool of Bethesda who had no one to help him in when the angel descended to stir the waters. Surely other examples could be gathered.

Perhaps the most relevant example, though, should come from an essayist who believes that God loves and accepts him, yet cannot refrain from wondering at the legitimacy of the faith of others. No matter how orthodox my creedal faith, such an attitude betrays a pride and superiority unbefitting a creature of God. That he welcomes me into his family, despite such flaws, should give hope to us all. There may be many pretty sentiments I can conjure, but until I perceive God’s presence as fully as the women I observed today, I must remain their pupil.

Categories
Personal

Returning Before the Arrival

Back in November of 2009 I stayed for three days at a Coptic Orthodox monastery in the desert of Wadi Natrun off the road between Cairo and Alexandria. I wrote at text shortly thereafter reflecting on my visit, and hoped to publish it, both here and at Arab West Report, shortly thereafter. I even anticipated doing so in this post. A preview post on the value of monasticism was also published.

Unfortunately, the monk who welcomed me in my stay found flaws in my presentation, and did not want the text made public before correction. Often in life, one thing leads to another, and delays happen. In December we needed to finish our peacemaking project before the calendar year expired. In January and February we finalized the report writing. In the Spring I began participating in shared management of our organization. The result, however, was this text – requiring substantial revision but lacking an urgent deadline – getting pushed to the backburner.

Then came word that some of my friends from the Coptic Bible Institute were organizing a trip to the monastery, and I quickly signed up. Though I had phoned my friends the monks there several time on occasion of Christian holidays, speaking of my revised text to come, a coming visit was finally able to push me into action. The text has now arrived in the inbox of the monastery, and I hope to be able to discuss it tomorrow with my host.

This may wind up being another false pronouncement, but for those of you who have been following our blog since November (and who may have been intrigued enough to let this thought settle into the recesses of your memory), I hope that publication of my reflections may be near at hand. My stay had a great impact on me, and I hope my thoughts may open up to you a largely invisible world. Monks, after all, stay in the desert for a reason. They prefer isolation and obscurity.

At the risk of undue exposure, part of which may be influencing the holdup of the text, I hope you can gain an appreciation of the faith and practice of the community of roughly 100 men. Their testimony is human, but it is inspiring all the same. Perhaps you can read it soon.

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Arab West Report Middle East Published Articles

Coptic Participation in Politics

Georgette Qillini is a member of the Egyptian People’s Assembly. A Copt, she gained prominence during the crisis of Nag Hamadi, in which six Christians and a Muslim policeman were killed outside a church on Coptic Christmas. Qillini spoke boldly and decisively during the governmental review, laying blame on the Coptic governor of the region, Magdi Ayyub, Muslim People’s Assembly representative for Nag Hamadi, Abd el-Rahman el-Ghoul, and the Ministry of the Interior for their share in the “persecution”, in her words, suffered by Copts in the region. In her stance she was rallied around by many Muslims and especially Copts, who found in her a defender of their rights.

Finding a defender, however, is no easy matter. Copts comprise less than 1% of the membership in parliament, though their population in Egypt is estimated to be roughly 6-10% of the whole. This disparity was addressed by Qillini during a presentation given on June 28, 2010 at a youth meeting at St. Mark’s Orthodox Church in Maadi, Cairo. During her address she called the Coptic community to task for failing to participate in politics, encouraging them to “change themselves” rather than simply complain about their understood mistreatment in society.

Qillini opened her remarks with admission that ‘politics’ as a subject was on the lips of everyone. This is election season in Egypt and Copts as much as anyone pay attention to the national developments. Qillini expanded the thought, however, stating that politics is grounded in a political party system, of which most Egyptians, but especially Copts, are woefully absent. How then can they effectively participate at any level more substantial than conversation?

The first step, Qillini delineated, is simple knowledge of the system as constructed in the Constitution. Within this document our rights are found, she said, but we do not know them. Every Egyptian citizen – man/woman, Muslim/Christian, rich/poor – is guaranteed the same rights and must be offered the same opportunities. Failure to participate, however, unbalances this equation. Though rights are guaranteed, opportunities go by the wayside.

The second step is to focus on the maintenance of dialogue in society. Since the Copt is a person, complete, a full citizen before the law, he or she has every right to speak from personal perspective. Dialogue, however, requires being with the other, being open to the other, and knowing the other. Many Copts isolate themselves in church activities, and thus, know as little as they are known. If you have studied a subject, pursue it with diligence; then, be present in society so as to speak about it. Once in the public square, ask and be asked about all things.

The third step is to participate actively in elections, but even more so, in the political party system. Several months ago the leadership of St. Mark’s Church repeatedly encouraged the congregation to register to vote in the upcoming elections. Aware or unaware, Qillini asked those present, roughly 200 young adults but with substantial members of the older generations, how many of you have received your voter registration cards? Only about 25% raised their hands. Qillini pressed further, asking how many of these had voted. Of the 25%, only a quarter signaled affirmatively. Her last question asked how many present were members of an established political party. Only two identified as such.

Within her remarks Qillini anticipated and spoke to a common Coptic objection. What chance is there for participation, many wonder, when the political atmosphere is not pluralistic and anti-Coptic sentiment exists in many fields of society? Though not dismissing the assessment, Qillini stated though discrimination is an obvious growing attitude in the society, there are still many balanced voices which oppose it. The negative attitude of Copts in participating in politics, however, stems primarily from two sources: frustration and fear. Fear, however, has little to do with Christian faith. We pray ‘Our Father who is in heaven’, she counseled. If this is true, why should we fear? Have we forgotten that nothing can happen unless God wills it? Yes, there may be consequences which follow our efforts, but there is also reward. Qillini accepted that, of course, not everyone has the courage necessary to speak fearlessly. Nevertheless, everyone can gradually, but conscientiously, prepare themselves to build the courage required. Society will not magically change. We are the ones who must change ourselves first.

Following the presentation Qillini was presented with a banner on behalf of the youth of the churches of Maadi. The banner spoke of everyone’s support for her election campaign, celebrating her as the bravest voice in parliament and the best representative of Egyptian Copts. Afterwards, Fr. Yunan clarified that this banner was not a statement on behalf of the church, for the church should not involve itself in politics. Certain youth prepared this on their own, he said, and wished with it to honor Qillini. It was a telling sign, however, for the extent to which Coptic political sentiment has adopted her as one of its chief representatives. Should Qillini’s words have any fruit, however, she may in time prove to be less exceptional. She certainly would prefer it this way.

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Arab West Report Middle East Published Articles

My First Editorial

Every week at Arab West Report we survey the Egyptian press for articles which concern either Muslim-Christian or Arab-West issues. These are translated into English and published with independent reports we or the interns who work with us write. Each week his headed by an editorial, which organizes a theme around key articles from that week, and expresses an opinion to speak into the news.

The editorial is usually written, appropriately, by our editor, but a little while ago he was traveling outside of Egypt and requested me to fill in for him. Several months ago I made reference to the first report I wrote for AWR; here below I can share my first editorial. Each article mentioned is linked to our full text publication, so feel free to click for more information. I hope you enjoy…

A few notable selections from Arab West Report this week have to do with the nature of sectarian tension in Egypt. While most would agree that Muslims and Christians live and have lived in peace and cooperation, these are also painfully aware of recent incidents of violence which threaten the validity of this status quo pronouncement. Needing to explain why this sectarian spirit exists itself is a source of division in the country.

One of the oft-repeated but infrequently demonstrated causes is that of foreign manipulation. Zionist or American/Western interests in destabilizing Egypt and the Arab world are cited as being behind the disturbance of traditional religious harmony. Bishop Marcos of the Shubra al-Khyma diocese disagrees in article 14. Instead, he blames poverty, illiteracy, and extremist television programs, harming all Egyptians, as contributing to the sectarian problem.

Another source of disturbance is often posited to exist among Egyptian Copts living abroad. These, it is said, have been influenced by the freedoms experienced in the West, hear only the negative examples of religious troubles, and then look to marshal their adopted governments to support the Coptic cause. In the process, they are accused, and sometimes guilty, of exaggerating the real circumstances of Christians. When the reports of activists recycle and return to Egypt, it deepens the sense of alienation experienced by Copts, thus continuing to degradation of relations.

In article 38 one such activist Copt is brought to attention, and then criticized for his opinions. Magdi Khalil is the director of the Middle East Freedom Forum, as well as an editor for the Coptic daily newspaper Watani. He has issued a call to American Jewry to intervene on behalf of the Egyptian Copts, stating such initiative is necessary to prevent Egypt from becoming a haven for terrorist activity which would rebound ultimately against Israel. The views of Khalil, however, are put in context in article 39. Here, the author states that activists who push their foreign communities toward public pressure on Egypt are in the minority. While 90% of expatriate Copts feel like their residence abroad is simply an extension of their Egyptian identity, their main complaint, he states, is that the Egyptian media exaggerates the Coptic problem.

A final culprit often blamed for sectarian tension is the controversial Muslim Brotherhood. The accusation against them is that they favor the implementation of a Muslim state to be ruled by sharia law, in which non-Muslims, it is claimed, become second class citizens. Article 9, however, highlights an invitation by Muhammad Badie, the newly appointed Spiritual Guide of the Brotherhood, issued to Egyptian Christians for an alliance between the two to challenge the lack of freedom experienced by both groups. The articles mentions, however, that church leadership rejected this offer out of hand, for the reasons given above. They see it as a clear political tactic in advance of the upcoming elections.

Finally, article 30 puts forward a positive vision about sectarian tension, finding the antidote in acceptance of all three strands of Egyptian identity: Pharaohnic, Christian, and Muslim. The article highlights the contributions of a number of leading thinkers who put forward the values of diversity, tolerance, and dialogue as necessary for instillation into the educational curriculum and national consciousness. While this goal is admirable, culminating this editorial only with this thought in summary of such wide divergence of opinion seems lacking.

Missing from the list of virtues given in article 30 is love. Through the lens of love each of the above explanations for sectarian tension can be exposed. There are issues in Egypt concerning the sectarian spirit; placing blame only on ‘foreign elements’ may shield Egypt from criticism, but love demands purification, and must be willing, however kindly, to confront. Where Magdi Khalil seeks to confront, however, love would find him in judgment as well. He seeks intervention from outside parties for the sake of one domestic interest, opening him to the charge that he does not care for the rights of all. Love seeks to unite, not divide, and puts the interests of the other above one’s own. Finally, in their outright rejection of a Brotherhood overture, church leadership fails to fulfill the mandate to love even those in opposition to you, as it appears the church views the Brotherhood in this way. Political cooperation may or may not be useful, but when asking for bread, should one be given a stone?

There are many good and necessary resolutions to help address sectarian difficulties; unless love be the motivation that holds them all together, the risk of ultimate failure is significant.

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Arab West Report Middle East Published Articles

Shenouda Support Rally: Details and Reflection

Downtown, at the Coptic Orthodox Cathedral, surrounded by protest. Perhaps I am easily overcome, but my sincerest expression of belonging was represented in tears, three, four in number, but lingering on my cheek.

I was caught unawares by my surroundings, but I was not unprepared. Yesterday I was at this very same location participating in a press conference organized by Pope Shenouda in official church protest against the recent decision of the Supreme Administrative Court to compel the church to grant and sanctify second marriages following divorce. Finding the ruling contrary to the teachings of the Bible, Pope Shenouda stated in no uncertain terms that the church would not honor this ruling. He criticized the judiciary for interfering in religious matters which legal and Islamic precedent dictate should be left to the church. He stopped short of calling for the direct involvement of President Mubarak, but made it clear this was an act against the Coptic people and their faith, setting a stage of challenge between the church and state.

Following the press conference I had opportunity to interview many bishops of the church, among them Bishop Kyrillos of Nag Hamadi, who had attended an emergency session of the Holy Synod along with 82 other bishops from Egypt and around the world. At Arab West we have been following the events of Nag Hamadi, in which six Christians and a Muslim policeman were gunned down outside a church following the celebration of Christmas mass. Bishop Kyrillos was at the center of this incident and surrounding controversy, and I sought to arrange an interview with him. Not only would it be valuable to hear his version of the events and the current climate in the area, I also wanted to speak to him of peacemaking – what must be done to bring divergent parties together, and who might these parties be?

I was hardly expecting this opportunity, but having invested much ink and many prayers over the difficulties experienced in Nag Hamadi, an interview with Bishop Kyrillos represented the best opportunity to learn directly about the incident. Moreover, it was a chance to build a relationship with the central regional Christian figure, and possibly, humbly, be able to participate in the restoration of religious relationships in the area. How, I might ask him, have Christians responded since the murders? What can be done to show love and forgiveness in the midst of tragedy? How is the church preparing people to think and act in the spirit of Jesus? What would this even look like? Somewhat fearful that these questions are not being considered in Nag Hamadi, but with little evidence either way, here was a chance to hear from the source.

The series of coincides continues. At the press conference I met a friend who studies with me at a Coptic Bible Institute, who was also present on behalf of his media. Learning from him that he has cultivated relationships with many bishops which he would be willing to share, I phoned him that evening to ask for the bishops phone number. Late in the morning we connected, he remembered me from our brief encounter, and we set an appointment for 4:00pm. The next day he would return to Nag Hamadi, over eight hours away by train.

Not yet finished from cataloging and writing about the press conference I dropped matters in order to prepare for this interview, and shortly thereafter returned to the Coptic Orthodox Cathedral where he resides when in Cairo. Not sure where to find him I inquired of those who seemed official, who sat me and my two colleagues from Arab West in an office and told me he would join us soon.

Alternately, we were told he was upstairs resting. We also heard he had not yet even arrived at the Cathedral. Yet everyone told us he would be present at Pope Shenouda’s weekly lecture given every Wednesday night at 7:00pm. In Egypt one should be used to waiting, so we sat patiently, made occasional inquiries, and hoped for the best. Meanwhile, the bishop’s cell phone had been switched off, so it was impossible to alert him we were there.

In the bishop’s defense, I arranged this interview in Arabic, over the phone, and the bishop himself is elderly and from Upper Egypt, known for a dialect all its own. I may have gotten the time wrong, or he may have been waiting for us in an entirely different location, or even just elsewhere in the Cathedral. It is best never to assume you have understood things correctly as a foreigner.

At 5:00pm someone came to talk with us who seemed as official as those from whom we inquired earlier. Still, he represented himself as one with connections, so after a while he returned and told us the bishop was not around, but that he would attend Pope Shenouda’s lecture and perhaps we could see him there. Disappointed, but also completely unsure this gentleman had any sounder information than those we spoke to previously, it at least gave us the excuse to leave the room and inquire elsewhere for the bishop’s whereabouts. Yet he made an odd statement that seemed out of place – we needed to leave the sitting room we were in for security.

On our way into the Cathedral we noticed dozens of signs that were not there the day before. Each one expressed support for Pope Shenouda from different personalities or dioceses, or else expressed protest at the decision of the court and commitment to live by Biblical teaching. It seemed strange, for why were these not posted earlier for the press conference? They certainly were produced, assembled, and displayed very quickly thereafter.

As we exited the sitting room we received our answer. The signs formed a corridor defining a space for an emerging demonstration. Naguib Gabraeel, a well known Coptic lawyer and human rights activist, was delivering an impassioned statement to the television cameras, and leading vociferous chants in support of Pope Shenouda and the church’s stance against the judicial ruling. Yet at the same time, only twenty or so demonstrators were gathered behind him echoing his chants of protest. Twenty people still made quite a scene and a lot of noise, but I cynically wondered how this would be displayed in the newspapers the next day. Would the press play it up to be larger than it was?

Of course, to be remembered is that we were only here by coincidence. Still, it was an opportunity to experience in person the passion held by many in the Coptic cause. Yet, with pause – does twenty people represent ‘many’? I stayed on the outskirts but within the throng. To be fair, the number was growing, but to jump ahead in time, but the time we left around 6:30pm the active demonstrators numbered only around seventy-five, while the passive crowd around them was perhaps between five and seven hundred, attentive, but definitely not engaged.

I am not a man of protest, for good or for ill. I have great respect for pacifistic civil disobedience, but have not joined in demonstrations of any kind, to know of their ilk.

In these matters, then, my judgment is limited, or, being yet virgin perhaps I experienced the events of the day more fully than seasoned activists, like Naguib Gibraeel and those behind him, who know how to put on a show. If a show it be, then it was one which unnerved me completely. After all, this was a Christian protest.

Christians, like all citizens, should have the right to protest. When angry they, like all humans, can easily respond in kind. Given the enormity of the issue – judicial rulings seeking to manipulate sacramental marriage practice – a protest can be seen as completely justified. Active participants, however, displayed their anger, frustration, perhaps even contempt for the decision rendered against them. Simultaneously, they heaped praise and adulation on Pope Shenouda, celebrating him as their champion. Slogans chanted fidelity to the Gospel, as this is at the heart of the remarriage debate. Yet fidelity to the Gospel was absent from conduct, especially concerning passages commending the poor in spirit and commanding prayers of blessing for those against you. Instead, there was hero worship – “Pope Shenouda is the Athanasius[i] of the 20th Century”. There was disparaging of government concerning the president – “Mubarak, why are you silent?” and the judiciary – “Oh judge, where were you during Nag Hamadi?” There was even evocation of martyrdom – “We received this religion from our fathers; we will give it to our children even at the price of our blood.”

I have written about this wondering at the nature of Coptic protest before, but this time, I was on the inside. The anger felt rawer, the lack of grace more appalling. Yet, strangely, hinted above through confession of cynicism, a different response touched me more deeply. It was the sense of manipulation that stole even the sordid glory from this occasion.

By all accounts Naguib Gibraeel was playing to the cameras. Surely protest organizers must be ringleaders, and Gibraeel is sincere in his beliefs and care for the Coptic-Egyptian cause, if theatrical in his methods. Yet a protest, to be real, must draw on the pinched nerve of the community. Even if manipulated, or for a better word – organized – a rally cannot be sustained unless the crowds assemble and join in.

As hard as the sloganeers chanted, the troops did not fall in line. Hoisted above the throng on the shoulders of supporters, they took turns chanting from their composed poetry with the active crowd of seventy-five repeating their couplets. The hundreds more gathered around listened, watched, turned away, and though they filled the allotted square, they hardly filled the protest. Some were drawn into the chanting, others began to chant but then lost stamina. It was rather sad.

I have a desire to believe the sincerity of people in their words and actions. Even in those with whom I disagree can be found virtue if behind their cause they are pursuing good. Dramatics aside, these protest organizers were seeking to aid the Coptic cause. Yes, they were manipulating the news, even if flailing in manipulating the passion of those around. I am of a different sort, but I can recognize, through effort, that their hearts are good.

Until, that is, a source within both church and security circles confirmed my fears that this was a game. He offered me a scoop: The president has already decided to intervene in this matter and suspend the judicial ruling against the church. He is simply waiting until the Copts protest sufficiently so that he can be seen as coming to their rescue. Behind the scenes, I was told, he communicated this to demonstration leaders, who were giving the president what he needed. By the morning, the crisis would be over.

This source represents himself as being well placed; he has been correct previously and at other times he has been less so. On this occasion, however, his words met my impressions and the two became bedfellows. As I wandered through the crowds this was my one thought – insincere manipulation.

Incidentally, the next morning there was no announcement. Perhaps the source was off base; perhaps the demonstration just wasn’t good enough. Either way, the impasse between church and judiciary stands, but how many people really care? By reading our press review you can get the impression that this is consuming Coptic attention. By reading our report on the press conference you will see that Pope Shenouda almost never holds one. This is big; why then was the protest hollow?

It may be that Copts have so little experience in political participation having been – according to your favored interpretation – marginalized or self-isolated, that they did not know how to protest. The ringleaders ably followed a script; the average Copt knew something was going on. The result, though, was a fizzle. Indeed, in many of the protests implemented by disgruntled Egyptians, who are equally – according to your favored interpretation – marginalized or self-isolated, the picture, though I have only read of these in the news, is of a toddler frustrated he cannot yet say or do all that he knows is within him. Thus he flails, kicks, and starts, but to little avail. It is a stage of growth, cute when occurring in your own scion, but melodramatic otherwise.

The melodrama, mixed with manipulation and the absence of mercy, gave me heartache over the state of Christians. Yes, this ruling is against them, but they seem to be imitating in the wrong direction. Their proper object did indeed conduct a high profile demonstration of protest against the-powers-that-be in the ancient temple. As stated earlier, in doing so Christians are within their rights.

Yet are they within the spirit of their faith? Here, I am reduced only to questions, knowing neither the culture of demonstrations nor the culture of Egypt. What, though, would a proper Christian protest look like? How can the Coptic community stand up for its rights with courage and conviction, yet at the same time call down blessings upon their temporal adversaries? Can love and protest co-exist?

Following the murders at Nag Hamadi certain Christians filled the streets and smashed windows and vandalized cars. Following the protests at the Cathedral certain Christians looked to attack and overturn the automobile belonging to a Coptic member of the People’s Assembly, Nabil Luka Bebawi. He had appeared at the protest but is widely disparaged by Copts who see him as a traitor to their cause through his support of government policy.

By and large, Copts, like most Egyptians, are peaceful people who desire the absence of violence. Protest, however, usually draws on negative emotions and frustrations, and can easily lead to contempt and destruction. When Copts have protested, their conduct is generally salubrious, if sputtering. Incidents like the above are against the norm, but the manner of demonstration, lacking a widespread group commitment to love, enables the excess.

Politics, protest, or prayer? Surely there is room for all three. The proper mix, the proper spirit; may they, ideally in conjunction with their co-citizen Muslim brothers and sisters, find the proper way.

To view our video taken from the event, with translation, please click here.

[i] Athanasius (293-373 AD) was one of the greatest bishops from the See of Alexandria, and one of the central figures of Christian history for his role in defeating the Arian heresy. He was also celebrated as an Egyptian national hero for his role in resisting the political and religious machinations of the Roman empire and Byzantine church.

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Arab West Report Middle East Published Articles

Mubarak, Shenouda, and Jesus: Remarriage on Whose Authority?

In the latest escalation of the crisis between the Coptic Orthodox Church and the national judiciary, Pope Shenouda yesterday convened a press conference in opposition to the Supreme Administrative Court ruling compelling the church to validate second marriages following divorce in all circumstances. Stating clearly the church’s respect for Egyptian law, it will nevertheless not execute any order which violates Biblical teaching or the consciences of church leadership.

Pope Shenouda delivered his statement, signed after an emergency meeting of the Holy Synod in which 83 bishops signaled their support, from his papal residence at St. Mark’s Church in Abbasia, Cairo. He delivered his remarks against a background of images ripe with symbolic meaning. On the Pope’s left was his own portrait, representing his authority as leader of the Coptic Orthodox Church. On his right was a portrait of President Mubarak, representing the authority of the Egyptian state. Above his head, central and lifted above the other two pictures, was Jesus Christ, seated on his heavenly throne, with the Coptic phrase ‘Our Lord is present’ over his head. Placed especially for this occasion were three Bible verses on which the church makes its case:

But I tell you that anyone who divorces his wife, except for marital unfaithfulness, causes her to become an adulteress, and anyone who marries the divorced woman commits adultery. (Matthew 5:32)

Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away. (Luke 21:33)

We must obey God rather than men! (Acts 5:29)

Framing the issue furthermore was a headline in the Egyptian independent newspaper al-Dustur, which asked if this legal crisis would become the first clash between Pope Shenouda and President Mubarak. President Mubarak famously lifted the ban on Pope Shenouda placed by President Sadat, restoring him to the papacy and ushering in a period characterized in the large by cordial relations between the two leaders. While there have been rocky moments to be sure, Zachariah Ramzi of the Coptic newspaper Call of the Country stated that this is the first instance of government interference in the church that touches upon issues of Biblical ordinance. He added that whereas the Pope had been tolerant and forgiving over offenses committed against Christians in Egypt, in this issue involving doctrine he was both accurate and firm. Involving Holy Writ, must there inevitably be a clash?

In answering questions after this almost unheard of papal press conference, Pope Shenouda clearly stated that church refusal to implement this judicial ruling did not mean the church considered itself an independent state within a state. He also indicated, however, that marriage is a holy sacrament and not an administrative matter, and furthermore, he as pope is not a government employee. Pope Shenouda stated that he did not want to embarrass or put President Mubarak in a compromising position, but spoke also that while the president must be concerned with the independence of the judiciary, he must also be concerned with the millions of Copts who speak out against this ruling. Tellingly, throughout his remarks Pope Shenouda challenged the legal system, not the president. He spoke of Islamic sharia, from which Egyptian law is principally drawn according to the Constitution, stating it guarantees Christians freedom in managing their internal affairs. Additionally, the pope listed multiple civil laws and precedents which enshrine this dictate especially in the personal status codes. If a clash is coming, it is aimed at the judiciary; the government, but not the president.

Bishop Agathon of the diocese of Maghagha concurs. He noted that the leaders of the Orthodox, Catholic, and Protestant Churches together formulated a draft for incorporation into the personal status codes, in which the Biblical understanding of divorce is respected. Given to the People’s Assembly in 1979, the issue has been tabled without decision or explanation. Adoption of this proposal, states the bishop, would solve the problem completely. As it is, such judicial activism serves only to disturb all Copts, from leadership to the people.

Nabil Luka Bebawi is a Coptic member of the People’s Assembly. Sometimes criticized by Copts for not taking a firmer stance against perceived government neglect of Coptic affairs, during the press conference he also criticized the judicial ruling. Furthermore, he carried with him a tome, nearly ten centimeters thick, in which he chronicled Coptic difficulties in family law over the past several years. Entitled ‘Personal Status Problems of Christians in Light of the Egyptian Legal System’, he intended to present his study directly to Pope Shenouda. As a highly placed voice of opposition to the ruling, Bebawi nevertheless directs his effort through the church, but again, it is aimed at the judiciary.

What is not yet clear are the stakes in this contest. What does the church risk if it fails to act according to the judicial ruling? Dina Abd al-Karim, host of ‘House on the Rock’, a Coptic television program focusing on family and marriage issues, stated that this was the one item left open from the press conference. Father Ruweis, the patriarchal deputy of Alexandria, speculates that should the government press upon the church, he and his clerical colleagues are ready to go to prison. He clarified, however, that no such threat has been issued, privately or publically.

If the speech of the church is directed upon the judiciary, their eyes are on the president. Expectations, however, are different. Bishop Kyrillos of Nag Hamadi expects the government to do nothing, stating that Copts have no value. Bishop Bisenti of Helwan is more hopeful. The next step, he says, is simply to pray, hoping that President Mubarak will take care of this issue, and do so quickly. Pope Shenouda described the situation thus:

Imagine: This decision by the court has been rejected by the pope, the Holy Synod, by all the clergy, and by all the (Coptic) people. So what does this mean? This has to be reconsidered; otherwise it will mean that the Copts are under duress and suffering pressures concerning their religion.

This statement garnished the loudest applause of anything spoken during the press conference.

Returning to the above image, the symbolism runs deeper. President Mubarak on the right, Pope Shenouda on the left, but Jesus lifted above them both. For church imagery, this is entirely appropriate. Christ is Lord of the church, even as its governmental host and temporal head wrangle over the civil and ecclesiastical matter of divorce and remarriage. Upon closer inspection, however, the horizontal alignment of earthly equality is broken in the hands of Jesus. There, he holds a Bible on whose right hand page is a picture of Pope Shenouda himself. Jesus upholds the authority of the pope as the pope upholds the authority of the Bible. ‘Our Lord is present’ – and with him is Pope Shenouda.

May a clash not occur, but should it be so the press conference provided a clear picture of the church’s position vis-à-vis the government, and upon whose authority this matter must be decided.

If you like, please view a video clip we produced in association with this story.

Categories
Arab West Report Middle East Published Articles

A Call to Coptic Weaponry, from Abroad

As a quick update, I am working on a new text concerning the development of Christianity in Egypt that could be ready in a little while. In the first days following a new birth, replete with requisite sleepless nights (worse for Julie than for me), it is a little harder to write. In the meanwhile, I remembered this text I wrote following the Nag Hamadi incident which we published in Arab West Report, but I neglected to post it until now. It exemplifies part of our work which is a media critique of the local press, along with a personal reflection. I hope you enjoy.

The January 27th edition of Akhir Sa’a, an Egyptian weekly newsmagazine affiliated with the government, printed the bold headline “Expatriate Copts Encourage Egyptian Christians to Carry Weapons against Muslims and Security.” The story, complete with pictures of handguns, rifles, and peaceful demonstrations both inside and outside Egypt, commands immediate attention from the reader, especially given the charged sectarian atmosphere following the tragedy of Nag Hamadi, in which six Christians were gunned down randomly upon exiting Coptic Christmas Eve mass, January 6, 2010. This incident has drawn condemnation from all sectors of Egyptian society, but many Copts view it as but one more example in an extended progression of violence against their community. Though this aggression is unorganized, its perceived increasing frequency is causing great alarm. It has not, however, caused any domestic call to arms.

Expatriate Copts are a controversial topic in Egypt. Wealthier and more politically active than their compatriots in Egypt, many seek to lobby their adopted governments to put international pressure on Egypt to defend Christian well being. Through their bilingual websites they are able to inform both Western and Egyptian populations of Coptic issues, but from a position of advocacy, not news. Pope Shenouda has at times condemned their excessive reactions and demonstrations, which threaten to disturb the generally peaceful, though at times uncertain, attitude that prevails between Christians and Muslims, and between Christians and the government. At the same time, the results of their advocacy are popularly seen in many Egyptian Copts who rely on their foreign ‘reporting’ over a distrusted local press, which results in an increasing attitudinal divide between them and their perceived ‘Islamic’ neighbors and government. Naturally, Muslims and government are disturbed by the generalist and sensationalist characterizations of these expatriate Coptic websites, and an article which exposes their stridency is certain to sell copy.

The article itself appears to be fairly balanced, but builds only on one article and one comment to a different article, both posted on the website of the ‘US Copts Association’ – www.copts.com. The comment comes from an article written by Rafat Samir, who identifies himself as a human rights activist, lamenting the November 2009 attack on Christians in the village of Farshut, in which shops were looted and homes were burned. Significantly, he does not call for Christians to arm themselves in response. The Akhir Sa’a article, however, quotes from a comment posted to the article, which states:

It is necessary for Copts to arm themselves as quickly as possible, with immediate training also for women in the use of weapons. Priests must also carry weapons to defend themselves against Muslim attacks and those from the Islamic police. The only solution is that every Christian martyr be followed by the killing of ten Muslims.

In choosing this comment, the most vitriolic reaction among the fourteen comments posted, Akhir Sa’a selects simply the voice of a common man, but amplifies him as a representative of ‘expatriate Copts’. The second source for the magazine comes from an article written by Father Yuta, a pseudonym used by an otherwise unknown figure, who represents himself as a priest of the Coptic Orthodox Church. Though official church pronouncements have stated that this voice in hiding does not represent church opinion, he is a frequent commentator to the US Copts Association website. Again, the magazine references him as someone who is calling for general armament to meet the threat posed by atrocities such as Farshut and Nag Hamadi. Though his statements will be presented later, it is interesting to note that of the 104 comments which follow Father Yuta’s article, of those which present a clear opinion, nearly 75% speak against him. Below it will be clear why this is the case.

The magazine is wholly out of line in transforming these two voices into the general headline ‘expatriate Copts’, but it can posit an excuse in the tagline of the US Copts Association: Representing all Christians of Egypt. This, however, is clear exaggeration on the part of the website, for which neither expatriate nor Egyptian Copts bear responsibility. While the article fails to quote an official church representative about the personality of Father Yuta, it does quote Sameh Fawzy, director of Citizens for Development and a well-known Coptic commentator who declares,

This type of language bears no relation to Christian identity, which forbids the use of violence or the answering of violence with violence. Certainly it is not possible for Copts to interact with these ideas.

It is interesting to note that among the team which prepared the article was an attendee of our recent media workshop, which trained in the techniques of balanced and objective journalism. The article was structured fairly, giving space to all sides for expression. That this was an article at all, however, is an example of irresponsible reporting. One article and a reader comment do not equate to the general ‘expatriate Copts’ proclaimed in bold lettering. Though the headline may not have been under his control, he is making a mountain out of a molehill. The voices he presents are worthy to be highlighted, but expatriate Copts do not deserve to be lumped together with them.

There is little story here at all. Egyptian journalist Osama al-Ghazoly notes that Akhir Sa’a is among the least influential and least read newsmagazines, and in the month since publication there has been no development of the story whatsoever. Yet a stark headline such as this one demands attention, as well as arrest of the idea. The call is shocking and immediately prompted our office to call for an article in response.

Regardless of the differing Christian stances toward self-defense, practical, social, and legal considerations all demand the condemnation of the call to armament. Copts represent less than 10% of the population of Egypt. These exceptional expatriate voices are calling for a general attitude of armed opposition toward both neighbors and government, and are urging wealthy expatriate Copts to fund the enterprise. Even if increasing, the acts of aggression against Christians almost always have an additional social interpretation, and represent isolated incidents from among thousands of peaceful villages. A general armament would likely be viewed by the population at large, living in peaceful coexistence if not complete social integration with Christians, as an act of aggression. Any exchange of violence would result in a bloodbath for the Copts. How much more so since the call is for Christians also to arm themselves against the government! It is the state which is best equipped to provide protection and equality of citizenship, yet these voices urge it to be viewed as the enemy.

It would be one thing to state that these voices call only for the use of weapons in self-defense, but even this is uncertain. Instead, Father Yuta states, in an article published on the US Copts Association website in Arabic, though noticeably absent in its English version,

I completely shoulder the responsibility before God, and I understand the Scriptures very well when I tell Copts that they have to respond strongly to Muslims’ attacks. Christianity prohibits its followers from attacking anybody; however, it does not prohibit them from defending themselves. Therefore I call on every Copt who finds himself before a Muslim who wants to assault or kill him, to kill that Muslim to defend himself. Similarly, if you find yourself before a Muslim trying to kill another Copt, you must hurry to prevent that Muslim from killing the Copt. If a Muslim attempted to burn a Copt’s home, Copts should put that Muslim’s home on fire. Every Copt should cooperate with the other Copts. If Muslims put a church on fire, then Copts should put the nearest mosque to that church on fire too.

Furthermore,

Copts should not hide in their homes leaving Muslims to burn their houses! They should go out and defend their homes using all the means and possible weapons to defend themselves. If a soldier shoots a Copt, all Copts should attack all the security officers and take weapons to shoot the security officer and police officer of the highest rank in the site, because he is responsible for giving fire orders against Copts. If this happened no officer will give a shooting order against Copts, because the price will be so high.

And finally, if anyone is concerned that in these actions he will be sinning against God,

I tell all Copts of Egypt that there is no absolution and no blessing for he who does not defend himself and the life of his Coptic brethren who are attacked or assaulted by Muslims or by the Egyptian security apparatus. To all Copts in Egypt I say: You have the absolution and the blessing if you defend yourselves against Muslims. To those who fear punishment if they are killed attacking Muslims I say: If you think you are committing a sin then I carry it for you on the Day of Judgment, and hence you are innocent before God who gave us the power to bind and to release.

A case can be made that there is logic behind this call, but it appears to be far from a Christian ethic. While Christians are divided about the right and extent of legitimate self-defense, Father Yuta is advocating an eye for an eye, and more. Yet Jesus declared in Matthew 5 that an eye for an eye was no longer valid, commanding his followers to not resist an evil person, but to turn the other cheek. It is correct that Christians should not shrink back from attack, but Father Yuta puts forward his idea of resistance in neglect of Hebrews 10:32-39, which speaks directly to the situations Copts have faced in Farshut and elsewhere:

Remember those earlier days after you had received the light, when you stood your ground in a great contest in the face of suffering. Sometimes you were publicly exposed to insult and persecution; at other times you stood side by side with those who were so treated. You sympathized with those in prison and joyfully accepted the confiscation of your property, because you knew that you yourselves had better and lasting possessions. So do not throw away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded. You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised. For in just a very little while, “He who is coming will come and will not delay. But my righteous one will live by faith. And if he shrinks back, I will not be pleased with him.” But we are not of those who shrink back and are destroyed, but of those who believe and are saved.

While no Copt should submit meekly to the confiscation of a home, abandoning completely the rule of law in a modern state, these verses praise the Christians in question for maintenance of their joy during their trials. It calls for perseverance, not resistance, for their confidence in eternal possessions will be rewarded regardless of the state of their temporal goods. In fact, undue attachment, signaled through resistance, is the very ‘shrinking back’ which Father Yuta proposes. It results in God’s displeasure, not approbation.

Yet a proper question is addressed to the US Copts Association: Why have you published such an opinion? In their mission statement, accessible from both the Arabic and English webpages, they state:

We would like to make it very clear that we aim to realize these objectives solely through peaceful and legitimate means.

Instead, in this article it is clear that Copts are called, when attacked, to vigilante collective retributive justice. This call runs counter to common sense, Biblical mandate, and the website’s own mission statement. It deserves an official retraction.

As stated earlier, the call to armament is not heard in Egypt; it is only uttered by the few, frustrated voices which operate within the confines of safety and freedom of Western democracies, or else behind the mask of anonymity. Though their advice is clear, their judgment is in question. Yet at the same time, they make clear to Copts in Egypt the path that lies before them. Armed resistance in international geopolitics can at times be understood for oppressed and occupied ethnic minorities, seeking freedom from a dominating power. This is not at all the description of the situation for Copts in Egypt. Coptic Christians and their Muslim neighbors are equally Egyptian, and national law regards all with equality, however uneven in occasional misapplication.

Yet even if the situation did reflect ‘oppression and occupation’, Copts would need to choose their greater identity. Would they wish to exist as a political—even military—bloc, seeking rights and protection in the carnal ways of the world? Or would they wish to live and behave according to higher ethical ideals, as would be expected in their identity as Christians? It is not suggested that these positions are absolutely exclusive; Christians maintain membership in two worlds, the temporal and the eternal, and life demands negotiation between the two. Yet whereas Father Yuta urges Egyptian Christians in one direction, spokesmen are necessary to urge the opposite response, toward peace, forgiveness, and love. Unfortunately, as concerns publications like Akhir Sa’a and other media, this alternate formulation of Coptic identity sells far fewer newspapers.

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Personal

From Poverty to Riches

Note: This text was prepared recently but recalls a personal trip I took with my family to visit Maghagha during the Coptic Christmas holiday in January 2010. While there we visited Holy Family sites, but also a rapidly developing pilgrimage center focused on the memory of Fr. Abd al-Masih al-Manahari. Upon watching the film produced by the church commemorating his life, these two sources combined to inform this text, replete with personal reflection and photos.

The Coptic Orthodox Church possesses a strong monastic spirit which esteems abandoning the pleasures of this world in preference to those of the hereafter. Yet even in this world God is believed to compensate his servant with spiritual riches which satisfy far greater than any earthly lucre. Not all are called to this life; few can even imagine themselves in pursuit of it. Nearly all Copts, however, find in those who dedicate their lives entirely to God a source of spiritual proof of faith, for which glory is given to God, much of which flows through his servant. This human-directed commemoration is known as al-magd al-batil, or vainglory, which these servants spend their life escaping. Upon their death, however, they can no longer flee.

The Egyptian countryside is dotted with churches built upon or in proximity to the tombs of these saints. Most of these figures lived centuries ago, during the times of monastic establishment or widespread martyrdom. Certain saints have more modern origins, such as during the Islamic ages even through the colonial period. The sites have become places of pilgrimage to which Copts journey to remember their lives, seek their intercession, and receive their miracle-working power. In an earlier essay I wrote about our first encounter with such miracle stories, in which the bodies of many of these saints are preserved from decay. Westerners in general find it difficult to give credence to these stories, imagining them to be vestiges of a bygone era in which scientific inquiry was less developed. Even Western Christians, who are more inclined to believe in the possibility of the miraculous, find little similarity between this understood pre-modern faith and their own. Yet the saying is often repeated here: God never leaves himself without a witness.

The witness to faith through miracles is not understood as a foundational phenomenon only. The first Christians preached Jesus, “who was a man accredited by God to you by miracles” (Acts 2:22), and their own authority was established as “everyone was filled with awe, and many wonders and miraculous signs were done by the apostles” (Acts 2:43). Salvation, “first announced by the Lord, was confirmed to us by those who heard him … testified by signs, wonders, and various miracles” (Heb. 2:3-4). Paul confirms that these miracles are, in fact, “the things that mark an apostle” (II Cor. 12:12). Copts celebrate their communion in “one holy, catholic, apostolic church”, and trace the succession of their leadership all the way back to Mark, through the ages in direct connection to this apostolic authority. Christianity was confirmed in the beginning through miracles, and its proof continues to be found in God’s concern exhibited through his saints, both living and dead. This witness elevates Christianity from a philosophy to a divine reality, incumbent for belief by all humanity. The level of witness may ebb and flow, but it never disappears.

Scanning the modern age in Egypt, however, may question this conviction. The tombs of the saints are testified to as places of miracle, drawing even Muslims to petition God through these Christian wonder-workers. Yet where are the living witnesses? At one time these saints were flesh and blood humans—devoted, no doubt, to the complete service of God, but no different than their common neighbor. That is not a fair claim, however, for they were different from most men in their voluntary poverty, and if the stories are to be believed, in their ability to petition God for direct and indubitable intervention in the lives of those around them.

This dependence upon the miraculous, coupled with a scarcity of living saints, has contributed to the growing popularity—and wealth—of locations surrounding the holy tombs. When one asks for intercession it is usually accompanied with a vow to be fulfilled sometime after the miracle has been received. This can be in the form of a service rendered, prayers offered, or money donated to the church housing the tomb. There is no scandal here; no one is getting rich off of these stories. Monies are applied to build and repair the church of the saint, with legitimate concern to accommodate the ever increasing number of pilgrims, as well as to assist the poor in the area. Yet the living saint would have cowered at the thought of receiving ‘compensation’ for his expression of grace, let alone the attention which would be afforded him. This is al-magd al-batil which kept most of these saints ever in search of obscurity. With their bodies in the ground, no matter how well preserved, the magd can finally accumulate.

During the season of Coptic Christmas we had opportunity to travel to Maghagha to stay with Fr. Yu’annis, a priest who introduced us to many of the Christian sites of the area. You can read about these accounts here. He also spoke with us about the best practices for church building as well as what Christians should do following the horrific events of Nag Hamadi, which you can read here and here. He also brought us to a modern day pilgrimage site, such as described above, located in the village of Manahara. The story which follows is an account of the life of Abd al-Masih al-Manahari, as depicted in a film, produced under the supervision of Bishop Mina of the diocese of Girga, who researched his life and recorded the stories attributed to this remarkable man.

Abd al-Masih al-Manahari was born in 1892 near the village of Mattai, in the governorate of Minia, located 150 miles south of Cairo. As the only son in a family with several daughters, he caused much consternation to his father for his preference to visit the local monastery over devotion to the family farm. Yet God blessed the production of the farm for his oversight, and whenever his father would limit his time in the monastery several cattle would die. As he grew older he wished himself to become a monk, but could not obtain his father’s permission. Though he loved his boy, he knew that monks neither married nor owned property, so the farm would pass to others, and who would care for him as he aged? In desperation the father brought him a young woman who offered herself to his son, but he refused, sending her away with great pain in her stomach until she publically repented in front of his father, at which point he prayed for her and she was cured. Angry with his father, but knowing also his fears, he asked if he could be released to the monastery if God granted his mother a son in his stead. When his father said yes, he declared it would be so, and shortly thereafter a second boy was born to the family.

Abd al-Masih, which translates into ‘Slave of the Messiah’, then traveled to the Monastery of Fr. Makarius, located in Wadi Natrun in the desert between Cairo and Alexandria. Here he studied from the established monks, serving them but also distinguishing himself as a man of spiritual insight. Here he learned the lesson of al-magd al-batil, which oddly enough drove him away from the monastery. Knowing the honor received by monks he sought to flee to become a hermit in the desert. Upon his return, however, he overheard people speaking about him as the great monk dedicated only to God. Paradoxically, he thought the only place to escape was the world, so he departed to live in the village of Manahara, dressing as a monk, but under the guise of tomfoolery.

Everywhere he went Abd al-Masih mentioned he wished to get married. For a monk this was akin to giving up his vows, so he presented the image of a man with worldly wishes. He always turned down any proposal received, but his reputation began to be established in the village. Furthermore, he would pay the children a small amount of money to dance around him and call him ‘the crazy monk’. Yet at the same time his concern for the people around him became known through small miracles he would work on their behalf. He would present an amount of money to a needy family, matching exactly their debt without any details being exchanged. He would restore a chicken to life when it died in advance of the holiday. He would even be witnessed praying through the night with holy lights surrounding him, once even being seen in communication with the Virgin Mary.

Some of his miracles were for his own benefit, as God enabled. On one occasion he knelt by the river bed and asked the fish to jump directly into his basket. Another time he demonstrated he was as the holy saints of the monastic establishment, able to traverse great distances in minimal time by transforming himself into a bird. To cap his life he gave two great prophesies, which established his recognition by God as a saint. In the first he was comforting a fellow monk who was overlooked for service, telling him he would be appointed a bishop when the otherwise unknown monk so-and-so became pope. No one believed him, but not long afterwards Pope Kyrillos VI was installed, and he appointed Bishop Mina, the very one mentioned above, to his post.

In the second Abd al-Masih received two visitors in approach of the Easter feast, each one vying to invite the monk to his home. Abd al-Masih refused them both, declaring he had a prior engagement, in that he was to be married on Easter, and in fact, one of the two was to join him that day. The colleague in question nodded solemnly, for by now it was well known that this was no crazy, deviant, marriage-bent monk, but a man fully dedicated to God. As predicted, Abd al-Masih’s desire was finally fulfilled, as on Easter, April 14, 1963, he was wedded to his beloved, joining the saints in communion as the bride of Christ. His friend died that same day.

While Abd al-Masih lived in Manahara he occupied only a small room in which he would sleep, eat, and pray. When we visited his now vast and grand pilgrimage site, this room is preserved in its original form, as a reminder of his poverty and humility. It is a stark contrast to the grandeur of the palatial church and complex now surrounding it, especially the bookstore which sells tacky trinkets with his face printed on mugs, ornaments, and pictures of remembrance.

According to local testimony, however, the place deserves its laud. Fr. Yu’annis told me the story of how this complex came to be. One day after Abd al-Masih’s death, the regionally unknown saint appeared in a vision to a local embroiderer named Mukhtar. He had been praying for a cure for his cancer, and in his moment of despair Abd al-Masih materialized before him, and handed over his shawl, telling him to lay it on his stomach and he would be healed.

In the film this shawl figured prominently in Abd al-Masih’s first miracle, which began cementing his reputation in the village. A young girl was suffering from a violent illness and was at the point of death. The family had brought doctors but each one left saying that the matter was now in God’s hands. The girl’s mother implored her husband to call upon the village monk, of whom it was said he was one of God’s saints, but he resisted knowing him only as the ‘crazy monk’. When her pressings finally caused him to yield Abd al-Masih came and knelt beside her, laying his shawl on her head, and prayed to God. Miraculously, the girl arose, and the two of them exited the room together to be met by the rejoicing parents.

With Mukhtar, however, Abd al-Masih gave not only a healing, but also a commission. Upon granting his shawl he spoke to Mukhtar, authorizing him to use it for the healing of all who needed help, accepting no money. At the end of his instructions he disappeared, but left the shawl behind. With this word Mukhtar began his thereafter daily practice of taking the shawl to Abd al-Masih’s grave, entrusting it to the religious authorities for application of healing according to their wisdom, returning at the end of the day to take it home with him again. It is said that upon his death, Mukhtar will bequeath the shawl to the bishop.

Over time Abd al-Masih became far more famous in death than he had ever been in life, and the miracles performed through his shawl outnumbered those performed during his days on earth. Fr. Yu’annis confirmed personally the miraculous healings. On one occasion he invited Mukhtar to come with him, with the shawl, to his village of Qufada. One woman there had been suffering from a steady hemorrhage, but upon being touched in faith by Abd al-Masih’s shawl she was healed, and remains in good health to this day. Furthermore, Fr. Yu’annis declared that the body of Abd al-Masih has been miraculously preserved by God from decay, and is displayed publically once a year on the anniversary of his death. In this manner God honors in perpetuity the glory of his saints.

Be it God’s intention or not, this process also contributes to the glory of their surroundings. Here is a picture of the residence in which Abd al-Masih spent his days:

Following the work of Mukhtar and Abd al-Masih’s shawl, in the late 1960s this church was built on the site:

By no means is this an ostentatious display, but it does depict a progression from the single room residence and decrepit church (no picture) in which Abd al-Masih worshipped. Consider, however, the most recent building project on the site of this mendicant holy man’s grave:

In addition, consider how this man, once ever on the run from al-magd al-batil, is now commemorated throughout the site. Here is his original photo compared with the iconic image by which Coptic Christians choose to remember him:

Other images from the pilgrimage site include:

Here are his relics, to which people come to seek his intercession. Behind the priest on the green board is the Arabic text of a song of praise to Abd al-Masih, which commemorates his virtues.

It is difficult to reconcile these images with the reality of his life. A man of simplicity, poverty, and humility becomes the focal point of a dazzling, luxurious, personal cultic center. Yet at the same time, the extraordinary nature of his life suggests the appropriateness of commemoration. Certain questions demand further study:

Did Abd al-Masih al-Manahari truly conduct the miracles attributed to him in the film? These are verified through the research of Bishop Mina, but how thorough were his methods? Such an account can be built only upon personal testimony; were the subjects of his inquiry predisposed to interpret events as miraculous? Could they have invented certain tales fitting within the known pattern of saintly powers? Is there any hint of duplicity, if not for personal benefit then for that of the church and the faith? Or was Abd al-Masih truly one of God’s witnesses?

Is the story of the apparition to Mukhtar to be believed? How did the shawl come into his possession? It existed previously somewhere after the death of Abd al-Masih; wherever that place was, presumably it is no longer there. What of the continuing miracles? In at least one case, there is a credible personal testimony, received by a friendly priest in whom no duplicity was noticed. Is there a power of belief that itself produces miraculous results? Once the history/legend is sufficiently produced, can the best examples of these accepted tales fuel a continuing mania? Is his body truly preserved? April 14, apparently, produces yearly verification.

Supposing these accounts to be true, what does it mean? If Abd al-Masih was a saint, commended by God in both life and death, is this for his memory, or for a greater purpose of establishing the veracity of Orthodox Christianity? To what does Abd al-Masih witness? Orthodox Christianity generally holds itself to be the true expression of God’s religion, as spoken before, attributed by miracles. Yet how should the miracles of other expressions of faith be considered? Is there a difference in degree between the Christian Protestant faith healers and the Islamic Sufi awliya’ salihiin (literally, good guardians, functioning in a role similar to that of Christian saints)? Are all non-Orthodox, or at least all non-Christian, miracles demonic? Does God need this witness at all, from anyone?

Finally, what interpretive light does this phenomena shed on the miraculous in historical religion? Firstly, is Abd al-Masih a verification of the stories of the centuries old saints, such as Anthony, George, Bishoy, and Abanoub? Or might he serve as a modern example of how their reputations were created and preserved? Secondly, does the comparison carry backwards even to the founding of the faith in the miraculous stories of Jesus and the Apostles? Historical and apologetic studies have dealt with the second question in depth; presumably anthropological and sociological studies have dealt with the first. What are the results?

Without having studied the modern disciplines of the first question, and with some previous reading in the theological and critical disciplines of the second, I see four possible answers. The first is that of complete verification; Abd al-Masih, like the apostolic witnesses before him, was used by God to demonstrate the ‘rightness’ of Christianity. The second is its opposite; though many involved may have been honestly duped, Abd al-Masih, or at least the religious leaders who co-opted his story, was a charlatan and a deceiver. The third returns to a religious response, but one less exclusivist. God has mercy on humanity through many paths; Abd al-Masih was his agent to serve the Orthodox Christians of Manahara and Upper Egypt, though other figures are equally his ‘witnesses’. The fourth seeks to preserve the sincerity of the stories with respect to scientific realities. Psychological and psychophysical studies are necessary to determine how such events can be unanimously testified but yet scientifically impossible; Abd al-Masih tapped into a power that is part of humanity but as of yet is alien to measurement.

For now evaluation of these results is not possible, as further study would be required. What is most interesting is the picture of Abd al-Masih as an example of Coptic spirituality. Celibate, mendicant, and sensitive to the divine, he represents the ideal Christian picture which most are not able to replicate. In return for his sacrifices he enjoyed special favor, which was used primarily to bless others, but from which he enjoyed extraordinary communion with God. Upon his death this favor continued, at which time his legend rapidly spreads. The Christians who are not able to follow his example signal their approval by visiting his grave, seeking his intercession, and donating to his remembrance. In a world lacking an abundance of saints (is it not always?), men like Abd al-Masih can receive the adulation of many. That this adulation results in a complete upheaval of the values they practiced while alive is simply one of the paradoxes of Coptic Christianity.

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Arab West Report Middle East Published Articles

Islam and Civil Society

Dr. Nadia Mostafa is a professor of international relations and the director of the Program for Civilizational Studies and Dialogue at Cairo University. A devoted Muslim, she shared her thoughts about building and developing civil society in Egypt. The conversation began with Dr. Mostafa’s efforts to discover at bit about me and how I had come to visit in her office. While discussing briefly my association with Arab West Report she also asked about my education, and I answered stating at the end my master’s pursuit in Islamic Studies. She was intrigued, and we talked about this for a while. Within this subject we talked about her friendship with, but not membership in, the Moral Rearmament Association, a local Egyptian non-governmental organization, as well as her participation in multi-party efforts at civil society construction.

Dr. Mostafa admires the work of groups like the MRA for seeking to craft an ethical basis for civil society. This is a good and worthy endeavor, but she hesitates to commit herself to their effort because, being a political scientist, she cannot accept their indifference to political aspects. In taking this civil stance they still are making a political decision. Morality is an important part of civil society discourse, but there are realities of power which must be addressed, both nationally and internationally. Specifically, she takes aim at the Egyptian government for stifling political debate within the country. All groups, whether Communist, Socialist, or Islamist, should have full political participation in shaping public policy. The failure to include them results in the increase of violent protest as well as the lethargy in public political participation in general.

Dr. Mostafa also commented that though she freely and eagerly cooperates with non-governmental initiatives to strengthen civil society, she also takes issue with many of their presumptions. First, she mentioned that nearly all of the groups working on behalf of this shared goal were Christian or Western. Islamic groups tend to exclusively work in charity, and she implicitly criticized Muslims for neglecting this important task, while qualifying this is due to the constraints and pressures the authorities put on their activities. Second, the Christian and Western groups which rightly aim at strengthening civil society tend to view Islam as the problem which needs to be addressed. While partnering extensively with Muslims, they see Islam as deficient in promoting a worldview of tolerance, acceptance, and diversity. This, however, is faulty; Islam has proved a source of human rights more than any other thought or religious system. On an international and national government plane, this bias is utilized within the human rights discourse to exclude a priori any Islamist participation in politics. Though this is not the stated goal of non-governmental Christian and Western groups, they are often aligned with the government in pursuit of a secular order, which they label a “civil state”. Islam, however,  though rightly understood as more than a religion by the West, is also more than a political system. Islam promotes a strong human ethic and social justice commitment which admits plurality and the legitimacy of difference. The Islamic world view does not challenge the West as such, but the materialistic, hegemonic faces of modernization and globalization. Therefore, “civil society” should not be addressed as the opposite of religion or as having a religion-free frame of reference. Islamic visibility in the public sphere is not a threat to multiculturalism and civility.

At this I looked to probe a little deeper, and I referenced our earlier discussion about my Islamic studies. I highlighted that one aim of my research was to demonstrate that what is called ‘liberal’ Islam, that is, a Western preference for Muslims who also favor principles of democracy, tolerance, and human rights, etc., has a legitimate connection to Islam as a religion. It is often seen that liberal political Muslims may also be seen, perhaps by the more conservative faithful, as also being liberal religious Muslims, in that they have moved away from aspects of their faith. My claim was not to assert that either conservative or liberal Islam is the proper interpretation, only that liberal political Islam does not need to be seen as apostate – it may be embraced as a faithful expression of interpretation in the modern world.

Dr. Mostafa appreciated this line of study, but I asked her perspective on areas where I am still lacking. In defense of Christian and Western civil society proponents, while their bias may be evident, can it be understood, and perhaps justified? Specifically, the goal of civil society is to create the principles of citizenship. Many, however, see within Islam a call for dhimmitude. Admitting that the dhimmi system was superior to Western treatment of minorities for much of history, it is clear that the principles of the system do not equal the principles of citizenship. Proposing the question, is dhimmitude a necessary part of Islam, or is it a historical divergence from the religion?

Dr. Mostafa responded by speaking of the true persecution suffered by minorities under dhimmitude during certain epochs of history, but related this to Muslim-Christian geopolitical struggle, which then rebounded upon the Christians within Islamic territory. When Muslim nations have been strong, however, she stated that minorities were treated well. While her analysis was correct, I wondered if it contained an essential defense of the system. She distinguished between dhimmitude as a principle, norm and value, and dhimmitude as a system of procedures that organizes the state of non-Muslims. The earlier reflects a religious Muslim recognition of other previously revealed religions. So their adherents should be respected and fully protected as human beings who enjoy complete religious freedom. The latter is not fully described in Quran; it has been influenced, positively or negatively, according to the national or international context, but the negative one was an exception in history. Currently, when prominent Islamist thinkers and activists talk about citizenship, their ijtihad (reasoning) is not taken seriously by secular or by Coptic extremists. These stress Islamic visibility in the public sphere as a threat to their citizenship rights, which is fully wrong.

In a similar manner Dr. Mostafa had earlier criticized President Obama’s speech in Cairo in a slight way. While his delivery was good and positive, it was incomplete, for it presented only a peaceful, largely personal vision of Islam, in accordance with Western appreciation for religion in general. He avoided, she said, any reference to jihad, which though widely misunderstood as forceful imposition of personal belief, is part and parcel of true Islamic thought, and should not be apologized for. Jihad is incumbent as armed defense of their faith when Muslims are under oppression and occupation. Though this confession was clearer than that of dhimmitude, Dr. Mostafa revealed, openly and proudly, her Islamic core.

Yet at the same time, Dr. Mostafa denied that dhimmitude is a necessary expression of Islam in the modern world, and lives out this belief by her enthusiastic participation in crafting civil society. Islam, she believes, is open, tolerant, and accepting of others, and is not a clerical system like that found in Iran. Instead, the caliphate has always been a political phenomenon, and politics is subject to change. While she never issued an absolute claim that dhimmi status categorically is against the principles of Islam, she gives strong assurance to Christians and proponents of human rights that Muslims and their religion share equal goals as equal members of a society to be built upon the foundation of citizenship.

These Christian and Western groups, however, often go too far, specifically in their demand to cancel article two of the Egyptian constitution which establishes Islam as the religion of the state and the principles of Islamic Sharia as the main source of legislation. Every society has its order which defines the state, and by attacking the constitution in this way some extremist Copts are attacking the order of society.

Furthermore, Christian and Western groups do more harm than good as they constantly discuss civil society in terms of overcoming religious sectarianism. Religious relations in Egypt are healthy and strong; this over-focus only highlights the aberrant incidents, and communicates they are more prominent than in reality. As a consequence, civil society is weakened as accusations are exchanged across religious lines, rather than seeing these incidents as usually non-religious in their origin.

As we progressed we were conscious of the time, and I thanked Dr. Mostafa for sharing her views and helping my Egyptian education, but I also wanted to discuss some aspects of our work. I spoke of her colleague who informed me of the reconciliation sessions held in the Dar al-Ifta’ for Muslims who find themselves in personal conflicts with each other, be it business, family, or otherwise. She tracked with me in that if such a sheikh could be paired with a respected representative of the church, perhaps such reconciliation meetings could also be held between Muslims and Christians. She suggested, however, a different source of information. She told me of the Coptic Evangelical Organization for Social Services, who arranges extensive interreligious dialogue and cooperation. She believed they might be a better path to arrange inquiries about our peacemaking efforts. I agreed this was a good idea, but that our sources, unfortunately, are already primarily Christian, and it would be good also if she would not mind helping to arrange a meeting with the sheikh.

She did not mind, and gave me his phone number also. The man in question is the director of training in the Dar al-Ifta’, and she has worked with him previously, though not currently. She, with others, had assisted in helping imams expand their knowledge base from simply Islamic jurisprudence and Islamic studies to also include awareness of culture, politics, and society. Apparently, somewhere along the way this program was scaled back, so that this aspect of it no longer exists. Dr. Mostafa was not currently aware of what the remaining training program entailed, or for whom it was designed. In the past however, it was not just for aspiring imams before their appointment, but included even the imams of prominent mosques.

With this I thanked Dr. Mostafa once more for her time and assistance. Though we did not speak extensively of the subject for which I came, she did supply me with the requested reference, and I had opportunity to make a relationship with one who is often mentioned as a sympathetic supporter of our organization.

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Personal

Civil Society

A few months ago I was able to interview a professor at Cairo University who is the head of the program for civilizational studies and dialogue. She has been a friend of our center for many years, and in our introduction we were able to discuss a favorite topic of hers – the role of Islam in civil society. In particular we discussed dialogue between Muslims and Christians concerning citizenship, tolerance, peace, and acceptance of the other. I hope to post this interview next, perhaps in a few days. I have held off on doing so for a little while, however, wanting first to write about the concept of civil society. This is a term I had not encountered until I came to Egypt, so I am presuming a similar ignorance on the part of many readers. Your forgiveness is asked upon my faulty underestimation.

One of the reasons, I believe, that the term civil society is not part of common parlance in America is that it is part of common life. Civil society represents the interactions of ordinary citizens which serve to strengthen the democratic character of the nation’s fabric. Democracy is not primarily the process of elections in which voters select their representatives. While this is true, this definition is built upon the foundation of a populace which joins freely into public associations which support the common good. As this is a regular feature of much American life, there is no need to speak of civil society; it is already there.

Many observers lament that this is not true of Egypt. More than lamenting, however, they have made civil society the goal for which they strive. Not neglecting the importance of crafting democratic governmental structures, they posit that the implementation of democratic measures is mostly fruitless unless the people already think and act democratically. What is a participatory government if the people are non-participatory in society? One indication of a strong civil society is found in the number of active non-governmental organizations. These can be charity groups, scrapbooking clubs, unions, or voluntary associations of any nature. One expert in the field told me that among an Egyptian population of 80 million there are only 500 of these groups active in the whole country.

I cannot say how many groups are active in the United States, but such volunteerism has been present from the founding of the nation. Having the advantage of a country built by population transfer, involving initiative and personal sacrifice simply to arrive, the United States crafted civil society far more rapidly than the nations of Europe which needed first to overcome the cultures of aristocracy and serfdom. Religious observance also played a leading role. Alexis de Tocqueville wrote in 1835 in ‘Democracy in America’ about the associational nature of the country centering in near universal church attendance. Though the power of belief has waxed and waned in national history Americans have always been people to bond together, join a cause, and support the common welfare.

Welfare is an apt word for civil society, for the question centers in who is responsible for it. The modern welfare state is a noble invention, striving to share the nation’s resources with those less fortunate. Yet at the same time it necessarily introduces the thought that it is the government’s responsibility to tend to the welfare of its citizens. I wish to make no absolute statements about the rightness or wrongness of this policy; certainly there are examples of both good and poor administration. The point is that the assumption of welfare locates the power base of a people; to the degree that in the modern state welfare is entrusted to / controlled by / abandoned to the government, civil society suffers accordingly.

At the dawn of the last century Egypt was awash in nationalist fervor as both Muslims and Christians actively participated, together, in the cause of complete independence from the British and Turkish powers. Budding enterprises of political parties, unions, newspapers, and broadcasting were built by the elite and began to filter down into popular consciousness. This process, if not arrested, was thereafter controlled by the state after the free officers’ revolution on 1952. Enacted to rid the country of corruption and lingering dependence on foreign powers, like all modern nation-states the ruling system assumed to itself the care of the people. Altruism, expediency, or Machiavellian power machinations can all be argued about the origin of state motivation; the result is that many Egyptians fault the state, perhaps rightly, for failing to deliver on its promises of care. Welfare, however, is still left to centralization.

The civil society movement is an attempt to change this attitude. Of course there are many charitable organizations and religiously motivated groups throughout the country. Yet whereas America was founded on initiative and participation, Egypt has a six thousand year history of peasantry governed by a ruling elite. The elite have experienced cycles of ascendancy and decline; the population cycles of prosperity and hardship. Civil society existed during these millennia; especially during the Mamluke and Ottoman periods the mercantile guilds wielded influence which eventually led to the modernization project of Mohamed Ali. Sufi orders also gave religious structure to society. The abortive participatory experiment of the early 19th Century, however, did not produce roots deep enough to maintain a lasting civil spirit.

If America looks askance, it should be careful; civil spirit is not a right of inheritance. Robert Putnam has remarked in his book ‘Bowling Alone’ that civil society in the United States is declining. Conservative commentators may immediately place the blame on the growing welfare state of America; the message of this essay may provide them fuel. Yet simply identifying the problem puts them only in the position of the Egyptian critics who decry their government yet neglect civil participation. A more likely American culprit is the spirit of independence and self-reliance, foreign to Egypt, which while rightly encouraging the individual to ‘pull himself up by his bootstraps’ wrongly chastises the lesser for failure to do so, leaving him to his own devices. Egyptian society is remarkable for the preservation of the lower classes amidst poverty and population explosion, all because at the most basic level everyone knows that welfare is the responsibility of family and community. None are left to fend for themselves, no matter the alleged scandal of government neglect.

Civil society, then, is a middle class phenomenon, as well as a middle class necessity. It is uncharitable to condemn the American welfare state critic as was done a paragraph earlier, for in all likelihood such a one gives to charity, goes to church, and votes in elections. What is uncertain is the degree to which his or her participation extends to the larger society. The question is not of direct visits to an orphanage or soup kitchen; it is about coaching soccer, mothers’ associations, and general neighborliness. Yet the rebuttal is heard and understood: Who has time for more than job and family basics? Perhaps the more accurate critique is of a spirit of materialism that demands maintenance of a certain social or financial level that renders free time a scarcity. It is a fair question to ask the extent to which ‘community’ even exists in American neighborhoods, at least in suburbia. Economic factors are certainly real; but they are equally complained in both the United States and Egypt.

One final comment about Egyptian civil society is necessary before yielding the floor to the professor from Cairo University about the place of Islam. Much of the civil society initiative in Egypt, either in dialogue between Muslims and Christians or more generally, between Islam and the West, has been espoused by Coptic Christians. Their efforts point in two directions. The first is toward their own people. I wrote in a recent essay about the failure of Copts to participate in Egyptian elections. This is but one symptom of a growing tendency to retreat into the church and their own community. The Coptic Orthodox church offers a wealth of meetings, services, and social activities for Christians, but the revival this has accentuated generally requires participation within the walls of the church. Historic American church attendance strengthened the bonds of community, but America was a largely mono-religious society. Catholic numerical expansion later in history had its own church centered activities, but these differently religious citizens were able to fit into an already existing non-religious civil society network, built upon a common Christian heritage. In Egypt the situation is different for the time and relational investment given to the church and to fellow Christians is accompanied by a parallel reduction in social bonds created with Muslim neighbors. These exist, of course, and are good, but simple neighborliness is not social integration. Christian advocates of civil society recognize this, and are doing their best to change this emerging pattern. Strengthening civil society strengthens citizenship, and this is a key Christian concern, leading to their second directional effort.

Among the interpretations of Islam is a civil system which calls for the protection, yet subjugation, of religious minorities. Christians and Jews should have full right of worship in an Islamic order, with freedom to structure and conduct their own affairs, yet they should not share fully as equal participants in the running of government and society. Actual practice of this system has varied widely in Islamic, and specifically Egyptian, history. Christians have been both a repressed and humiliated minority and possessors of important ministerial posts, especially in finance. It is only in the modern age, however, that they have been citizens, equal under the law. Viewing a resurgence of Islam in recent decades many Copts view civil society, built upon a secular foundation, as the best safeguard against the return of dhimmitude. The idea is not anti-Islamic per se, but it is motivated by a fear of Islamic encroachment into the public square.

Yet why should not Muslims, as religious citizens, also share in the crafting of civil society? As they represent over 90% of the population, is it not appropriate that their moral values shape the nation in which they live? Dr. Nadia Mostafa of Cairo University summarizes Muslim frustration with secular and Christian dominance of civil society discourse, though she herself is an active participant. Her testimony will follow in the next post.

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Arab West Report Middle East Published Articles

Easter, Reluctantly

Easter in Egypt is a negotiated reality; this is true for both the nation’s Christians and myself.

All last week at work I wondered about the holiday schedule. Ours is a multi-religious and liberal office; if someone wishes a religious holiday, they can pretty much have it. The Copts who work with us would take the day off and go to be with family, some traveling six hours away by train to Upper Egypt. What about the foreigners, though? Or the Muslims, would they be expected to work? Unlike Christmas, Easter is not a national holiday in Egypt. Islam celebrates the birth of Jesus from the Virgin Mary, but denies the resurrection indirectly, for it denies first the crucifixion, believing Jesus ascended into heaven before his arrest. Though the government is not Islamic, in this matter it toes the line with the Muslim majority by not confessing the holiday.

Toeing the line is partial, however, as I discovered at work. National law allows Christians to take the day off from work en masse, but reckons it as a claimed vacation day. Given the reality of a national holiday the day after Easter – Shem al-Naseem, or literally, ‘Smelling the Breeze’ – this policy allows Christians to celebrate their holiday, but allows all citizens to create for themselves a four day weekend. Shem al-Naseem is a cultural vernal festival dating back to Pharaonic times; Muslims and Christians celebrate it equally, though I have not yet researched why it is tied to the Easter holiday. Some Copts see this as an implicit national recognition of Easter, though it is missing from the official calendar.

An event at our office disclosed to me another shade of Easter in Egypt. We have been trying to arrange an interview with a prominent Muslim scholar from al-Azhar University, and my supervisor told me we would meet Tuesday after Easter. I was quite happy with the news, but she continued adding that he originally asked for Saturday evening, but we proposed Tuesday instead. This news meant little to me, though I was somewhat glad not to have a work appointment on the weekend. I shrugged my shoulders however, saying, “OK, whatever the sheikh wants would have been fine.” I figured we should bow to his schedule, but at this my supervisor, a Coptic Christian, was aghast. “What,” she exclaimed, “don’t you celebrate Easter?” It took me a few seconds of puzzlement, but then I remembered that church celebrations always occur on the eve of a holiday, not the day of. The day of is a feast; a day to indulge after weeks of fasting. Children gather at the church to play and the priests open their offices to receive the well wishes of visitors, but there is no mass.

In the West we celebrate Christmas Eve, but there is no such thing as Easter Eve. Yet if you remember the events of Nag Hamadi, the murderer targeted the church around midnight the day before Christmas. As there is no correlation between Coptic Christmas and the Western calendar of December 25, this fact can easily be lost on the non-Orthodox reader. This year it so happens that Coptic and Western Easter fall on the same date. Yet even I, living here now for eight months and more tuned in than most foreigners to Orthodox affairs, was caught off guard by an Easter Eve service.

Unfortunately, once I had learned of it I was not that excited. We experienced the Christmas Eve service in Maghagha, which was wonderful as we enjoyed it with the family of a local priest in his small village. Yet we arrived by train halfway through the service, so we did not have to endure a four hour mass ending at midnight with two squirming, sleep deprived children. Managing them for an hour and a half was enough, but once it was over we went to the priest’s home and enjoyed a sumptuous feast of meat, meat, and more meat. You can read about this experience here.

Easter Eve in Maadi had none of these advantages. Though we have been attending the local Orthodox Church since shortly after arrival, we have yet to make good friends there. In saying this I do not blame them; there are many legitimate reasons for this, which I describe here. Yet even so, the celebration for us would be the four hour mass, with two children, and no meat. We decided to pass.

I continued to waver. I was fully agreed that our girls should sleep and Julie would be home with them, but what about myself? I could go alone. In the days leading up to it I went back and forth on this decision several times. As a family we went to the international church Good Friday service, and we were content to let that be our Easter church attendance. We figured we would join the children’s escapades on Easter morning at the Orthodox Church, and in the afternoon a Coptic friend from the Bible Institute had invited us to join them for lunch Easter afternoon. So all in all we set aside time for the holiday, both by ourselves, with foreigners, and with Egyptians. I could appreciate a quiet evening home on Saturday, so why bother with another mass?

On the other hand I kept being jabbed by a conscious that reminds me we are trying to belong to the Coptic Orthodox Church. Who could confess this desire and yet ignore Easter, the holiest of holidays? There is a virtue in discipline, but I will not claim it here, for my assessment of personal motivation is far too cloudy, with a likelihood of showers. Is worshipping God and being thankful for the Resurrection anywhere near my decision making process? Hardly. Part of the reluctance of going alone is that there will be no ‘credit’. Usually, my daughter Hannah sits on my lap during the service, so I get ‘credit’ for being a good and spiritual father. Furthermore, the service will be packed and any individual will be lost among the crowd. Somewhere in my mind is the idea that if I am faithful in attendance over time I will be noticed and get ‘credit’ in this quest for acceptance and belonging. There would be none of that on Saturday. Worse, I was fully conscious that I could get at least get ‘credit’ in this blog, which would be impossible if I didn’t go. I will not bother to untangle these threads of condemnation, but in the end, go I did.

As I approached the church I was glad I did. I arrived at 8:45, less than an hour after it had begun. On most occasions the church would be about quarter full at this juncture in the mass, but tonight I noticed they had set up two outside areas with live feeds supplying the action on big screen TVs. These already had numerous people sitting comfortably in the cool evening breeze, but I pressed inside anyway and found a seat on the stairs leading upwards in the balcony. If nothing else, this was to be an experience.

As I took my place I noticed my supervisor with a friend of hers in the opposite corner. Ah, credit! The evening was starting out great. About half an hour later it got even better. During this time most of the mass, unfortunately for me, was held in Coptic. Coptic is a dead language except in liturgy, but it has been aggressively promoted in recent decades by church leadership seeking to strengthen Christian identity by, among many other methods, resurrection of the ancient Egyptian vernacular tongue. Many in the audience were chanting along, having memorized the hymns, reciting along with words they would otherwise have no idea of the meaning.

Suddenly, they switched into Arabic, chanting, as slowly as possible as the lights dimmed and the curtain was drawn across the opening in the iconostasis, “al-Masih qaam, bil-haqiqati qaam,” translating the phrase any Easter-going Christian would recognize, “Christ is risen; he is risen indeed.” Except that in accounting for the solemn, deliberate rendering it would more be like this: Chri-i-i-i-i-i-ist is rise-e-e-en; he-e-e-e-e-e-e is ri-i-i-i-s-e-e-e-e-en i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-inde-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e, e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-ed. It was eerie, but effective.

Meanwhile, in the Orthodox Church the iconostasis serves to separate the altar from the congregation, holding icons of Jesus, Mary, and the twelve disciples on a lattice which allows preparation of the Eucharistic host to be viewed by all. The main view, however, is through a wide opening in the center, which as mentioned was closed by a curtain as the lights dimmed. Symbolizing the curtain in the ancient Jewish temple which divided the sanctuary from the Holy of Holies, which only the high priest could enter once a year, the mass continued for several minutes in near darkness. Then, with the loud clash of cymbals the lights flashed on and the priest reopened the curtain, setting off a spell of ululation from the women congregants. The curtain was torn in two; Christ had risen from the grave. The mass continued, appropriately, with the reading of the Gospel account of the empty tomb.

I wish I could say the euphoria continued, at least in me. Sadly, though ultimate responsibility rests only in my own human heart, I can find blame in all others around. Allow me to explain.

As I described, I was getting caught up in the presentation. Before the darkness the Bible readings were of such inspiring passages as the resurrection body of I Corinthians, the first Pentecost sermon in Acts, and the Petrine celebration of Christ’s once-for-all death and descent into Hell to preach there the Gospel. When the lights dimmed I was caught completely by surprise, but found myself one with the worshippers even shedding a tear in the darkness. Why, then, did I find the flood of light just a little bit cheesy? Why did the ululation ring hollow, and end sooner than it seemingly should have? For me this was a first time experience, but for everyone else it was observed for however many years that person had been alive. In the darkness, there is no choice but to be silent; with the light comes rejoicing, but who can fake an excitement when it is completely expected? Worse, once the lights came back on several in the congregation began to exit.

I could only guess that most of these were women who needed to get back home to prepare the after mass feast. Surely they were to be excused, but their number increased as the mass continued on. Another large contingent left after the sermon, and the congregation dwindled to about the size of a normal, non-holiday mass. I looked at the time and noticed there was still another two hours to go, and the original ideas of wishing a quiet evening at home as opposed to yet-another-mass returned. If everyone else was leaving, why shouldn’t I? If only from stubbornness to see it through to the end, I stayed.

As I anticipated, it became just an ordinary mass, only on speed, which made things worse. Because of the additional events of the holiday the rest of the liturgy was accelerated to make sure everything ended by midnight. This included my favorite sing-along hymns, which stood in stark contrast to the earlier ‘He is risen’ solemnities. Not only was I conscious of everyone leaving, wondering why I was there, I was also growing tired and sleepy. Still I soldiered on – not the best attitude for worship, but still.

At the end communion was distributed, which surprised me, since there was no communion at the Christmas Eve service. For Lent the Orthodox will fast all day Friday, and then again for eight hours on Easter Eve leading up to the midnight Eucharist. After all had partaken the priest turned to address the congregation, rebuking them for failing to maintain an attitude of reverence in the church, beginning early their Easter revelry. With this, announcements were given, holy water was sprinkled on all, the Lord’s Prayer recited, and everyone exited.

I had told Julie that if offered I would accept an invitation to join someone for the Easter midnight feast. I did not really expect one to be given, but neither did I go out of my way to be friendly. Perhaps this is either a virtue or vice – I was not engaging but at least I held back from worming my way into someone’s hospitality. Instead I went forward to greet the priests, again straddling the line between sincerity and duplicity. On Easter one is to call all friends and wish them a happy holiday, and doing so in person now with the priests I whom I know additionally from the Bible Institute is an even better gesture. Of course, it also grants me the ‘credit’ I earlier was not expecting, grand manipulator that I am. Pausing to see if the third priest I know was also available (he was not), I made way to leave.

Exiting the church I maneuvered between a wonderful scene of Copts dressed to the nines, mingling with friends and exchanging Easter greetings in the cool air of 12:15am. I also exited to witness two other scenes which return to the theme of Easter negotiation in Egypt. Stretched grandly across the street between the trees of the traffic circle was hung a cloth banner impossible to ignore. In bold lettering it wished the brother Christian Copts of Egypt a ‘Glorious Resurrection Holiday’, to translate literally, presented by Muhammad Murshidi and Hussain Magawir, members of the national parliament. Remembering the earlier statement of Islam about Easter, these two Muslim names can either be praised for their commitment to tolerance and national unity or else admonished for shameless pandering for votes. In my opinion, I think the first is more likely, and this was my initial reaction, nearly causing another tear to trickle.

The second scene dried it up, though further reflection might stimulate the tear duct further. As I was walking away back home I saw on the other side of the banner six policemen keeping watch in the center of the traffic circle. I stopped to count; altogether around the church I found sixteen policemen on patrol. For context, churches in Egypt are always under guard, but only two or three are usually to be found, at least in Maadi. It was a clear and immediate reminder of Nag Hamadi, and the efforts of the government to prevent any similar tragedy from marring a second Christian holiday. Praise God, all was fine, as things are 99% of the time in Egypt. It is the 1%, however, which reminds the Egyptian Christian, and this foreign observer, that Easter is a holiday necessary to negotiate with a Muslim majority nation.  

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Personal

Emma’s Saliib

Today Emma showed that she is being affected by peer pressure … but not in a way I expected.  I was sitting with Hannah in the bathroom for awhile, and Emma asked if she could write.  I probably don’t let her play with a pen and paper often enough, but since Hannah was occupied, and therefore wouldn’t see what Emma was doing and want to copy her, I told her she could write for awhile on her own.  She has done this enough to know the basic rules: Only write on the paper, not on books, or toys or walls or yourself, etc., so I didn’t think she needed a reminder.  After about five minutes of no sound coming from Emma, Hannah and I finished in the bathroom, and Emma came to show us her “artwork.”  She had scribbled nicely on the envelope, but I noticed two things about her: 1) she had a pen mark on her face and 2) her left hand was covered by her sleeve.  So, I asked her to show me her hand.  She took it out of her sleeve, and showed me her hand which had a cross-like shape on the topside,

and she explained, “this is my saliib (Arabic word for “cross”) and I want to show the kids at hadaana (Arabic for “preschool”) my saliib on my hand.”  The unspoken words which I added were, “because all of the kids and teachers at hadaana have saliibs on their hands.”  Makes sense.  Poor little Emma is the only one there without a tattoo of a cross on her wrist. 

 I never thought of it before.  I had thought many times, I wonder when the day will come when she comes home begging to get her ears pierced because she’s the ONLY girl without pierced ears in the whole country!  I didn’t anticipate that sending her to the Coptic Church preschool would mean she was the ONLY person there without a cross on her wrist!  You see, many Christians in Egypt tattoo a small cross on the inside of their right wrist to identify themselves as Christians.

It’s a nice symbol which a friend commented on the other day, “I like the idea that no one can take this cross away … they may be able to take the cross off my neck, but can’t remove it from my wrist.”  I’m not sure if there is a general age at which this is done, but the kids in Emma’s class are 3 and 4 years old, so it’s done quite early. 

So, I told Emma that her cross would probably come off her wrist before she returns to hadaana in a few days, especially when she gets a bath.  I told her that the kids at her school had to get a needle to get their crosses so they don’t come off.  She really wanted to show the kids her saliib, though, so I told her that we could give her a new one the morning she goes to hadaana.  Jayson did the honors and she was very excited about showing the kids and teachers her cross on her hand.

I wonder how the kids reacted.  Had they noticed she didn’t have one?  Did they even think about it?  Did they think it strange that she showed them her saliib?  It’s just a natural part of who they are, and they wouldn’t think of showing it off to others; yet perhaps it is a symbol of pride right after they get it done?  There are many things that I don’t know.  I am guessing the teachers understood the peer pressure factor of Emma being the only child without a cross.  I’m not sure we’ll do it for her again, or if she will kind of forget about it, but it was an interesting experience.  I’m not ready for her to get a tattoo at age 3, but I was much happier that she wanted a saliib on her hand than holes in her ears, although I’m sure that will be coming in the near future.

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Arab West Report Middle East Published Articles

Coptic Participation in Elections

Samir Zaki is an employee of the Egyptian National Bank, but his passion associates him with the Bishopric of Youth under the leadership of Bishop Musa, in which he encourages Coptic Christians to fully participate in society. On January 2, 2010 he was invited to present a lecture at St. Mark Church in Maadi, Cairo on the necessity for Copts to participate in Egyptian elections. For two weeks previous Fr. Ishaq had closed the Friday mass with an invitation to the church to attend this important lecture. He stressed that this was vital to the life of Copts in Egypt, noting the success of Copts abroad in affecting American politics due to their coordinated efforts. Though St. Mark Church boasts a regular attendance of five hundred people, only fifty came to attend the lecture, mostly from the older generation. Perhaps this is enough indication of Coptic neglect of elections, and an apt foreshadowing of what was to come.

Samir began his address discussing religion, asking in reference to the Coptic mass, do we pray for Christians alone or do we pray for the whole world? Everyone nodded in agreement that Coptic prayers implore God’s blessing on all, and Samir followed up by asking rhetorically if it were to be that Muslims were slaughtering other Muslims, would we not pray for them? All agreed that of course they would. The church, he maintains, teaches us that we belong to the communities in which we live, and we are to care for that world in which we find ourselves. Christians, Jesus declares, are the salt of the earth; salt is an agent of preservation. Just as food without salt tastes bad, so this world without Christian participation leaves it lacking. Samir implored the audience to present a good taste to those around them.

Following this introduction he moved into history. Beginning with Muhammad Ali he mentioned the major political figures in modern Egyptian history, celebrating them for their modernizing influences and allowance of Coptic participation in society. Sa’id Pasha allowed Copts to participate in the army and lifted the payment and stigma of jizia (an Islamic tax on non-Muslim peoples) from both Christians and Jews. Later, when the British occupied the country Copts followed the leadership of Muslim leaders Mustafa Kamal and Sa’d Zaghlul in resistance and nationalism. The Wafd party enjoyed wide Coptic membership, and the unity flag of cross and crescent flew over the city streets. During this time Cops occupied influential posts, even as foreign minister and leader of Parliament. It was a golden age, but an age that was brought about as Copts invested themselves in the national cause.

This positive situation continued but then reversed itself over time. The causes may be numerous, but from an era in which 15% of the Parliament was represented by Copts, today there is but one percent. At this point Samir shifted his focus and addressed the audience. He asked how many of the fifty present had voted in the last elections. Only ten people raised their hands.

At the beginning of the presentation Samir distributed a small handout encouraging Copts to register in the upcoming elections. Now he referred to the paper, which also contained instructions on how to complete the form required at the police office. He said a voter registration card is a symbol of citizenship. Copts are proud of their current status as citizens of Egypt, but they neglect this important expression of citizenship.

He continued, however, asking questions which revealed the depth of their neglect. How many people have run for a position on the school board? Four people raised their hands. How many have sought a leadership position in a non-church related NGO? One person raised his hand. How many have run for leadership in their professional union? Zero.

Having exposed their flaws, he sharpened his critique, turning to social participation. He asked how many people have even ten Muslims that they know well, even Muslims with whom they exchange friendly greetings? Perhaps the audience was battered; perhaps the question did not demand an answer. Silence was a sufficient confession.

Applying his point he spoke with pathos to the audience—we complain about our situation, but we have isolated ourselves, and have withdrawn from society. If this situation continues, he assured, in fifteen years there will likely appear a government minister, a preacher, a television announcer, someone who will declare, “Look at these Copts, they stand alone, keeping to themselves. They care nothing for us.” This sentiment, he warned, could become fatal.

He explained further. If you know a Muslim, he assured, he can see you as a friend, or at least a good person. Yet if he does not know you he will not think of you at all, and will likely think nothing of you. Why should he be blamed? He has nothing upon which to build a good opinion.

At this point one in the audience could not take it any longer. He protested, and Samir gave him the microphone. It is not we who have withdrawn, he lamented; it is they who have refused us.

Samir commiserated. There is a fanaticism which exists in society, and it exists even in sectors of the government. Yet at the same time, there is much room for us to participate—areas in which we suffer no hindrances. Even here, however, we are absent.

With this comment one woman countered angrily. In the faculty of medicine in the university certain Christians sought to cooperate together to improve things, especially since many of their members had good relations with the higher authorities. Yet when there were accusations of fraud the authorities ignored them, refusing even to launch an investigation. When we do participate, she argued, we are discriminated against, and our good standing does nothing to help us. Is there any question why there is increasing apathy?

Samir admitted that these incidents occur, but he raised a different issue, this time in the doctors’ union. Copts make up 35% of the membership, while those associated with the Muslim Brotherhood constitute only 6%. Why then did the 6% win? One reason was that many of the 35% did not even bother to vote, reflective of a larger malady in which Copts lack a culture of elections. Each and every member of the 6% was organized, not just in making sure to cast a ballot, but to maneuver behind the scenes with the legal tricks that can swing the outcome if properly manipulated. Copts are ignorant of these methods, largely because they have abandoned politics to others.

By the time he had finished this explanation, many in the audience were clearly murmuring. One spoke out. Why is our attitude negative, he asked? It is because we have tried to participate, but it has been to no avail.

The communal discontent was growing, and Samir’s partner approached to take the microphone. With the new speaker everyone fell silent, and Michael introduced his words with a confession of his comparative youth in view of the audience, but agreement with Samir. Do not be surprised, he counseled, Jesus has promised that we will be persecuted. Yet as we are a minority, we must keep to a positive attitude. We must be the ones who bring the social, or electoral, or union agenda which is superior to that of anyone else. If our plan is better, we will gain influence, respect, and votes, even from Muslims. Who will not support the best ideas for the community at large? Instead, he expressed, we bring nothing.

Samir built upon his words. Look at us, he said, we have the maglis al-milli, the denominational council, and we do not even participate in this! Why do we vote for nothing?

A younger woman advanced to take the microphone. She spoke with understanding of his message, but related that as a young woman she is afraid. Elections sometimes turn violent; it is better simply to stay away.

Samir answered sympathetically. Yes, he agreed, but this is mainly a phenomenon in Upper Egypt; in Cairo we do not face this difficulty.

The protest in the pews became palpable. The woman who spoke earlier of the faculty of medicine spoke again. She personally had gone to vote in an election, and was physically barred from entering. This was not just Cairo, it was Maadi!

Others told similar stories or raised other protests, and Samir tried to answer them all, but he was losing the audience. One person supported him—there are two thousand Copts living in Maadi, and the elections here are always close. If we vote with one mind we will swing the vote to whomever we wish. Another person simply stood and left in protest. Fr. Ishaq advanced to the podium and everyone quieted down. Samir understood the time was soon to end, and delivered his practical message.

The deadline for registration in the upcoming elections is January 31, he explained, and following this there is an election in June, another in October, and then a presidential election next January. Please, he implored, go to the police station and register, but do not go alone. Take your family, your friends, your co-workers with you. Whatever you think about this discussion today, go and register, and make yourself eligible to vote. You can consider what you want to do afterwards.

Fr. Ishaq took the microphone, and thanked Samir for coming. He continued emphasizing the importance of Coptic participation in the society in general, and in the elections in particular. He ended the evening with Samir’s earlier technique: Now with all we have heard, how many of you will go to be registered? Fifteen raised their hands.

I wondered about Samir’s opinion afterwards. Did this evening represent a victory of five, or a colossal failure? It is a struggle he clearly believes in, but it appears to be an uphill battle. As I left I greeted him, though he was pressed to leave. “May God encourage you,” I spoke in comfort. “It’s ok,” he replied, “I have been at this now for fifteen years.”

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Arab West Report Middle East Published Articles

A Coptic Demonstration

Two days ago the Coptic community of Egypt witnessed a unique event. On Sunday, February 14, Valentine’s Day, a rally was organized downtown by over two hundred Coptic participants in protest over the Nag Hamadi killings on Christmas Eve and the subsequent handling of the case by the government. Here below is an email which described the event with illuminating pictures (the text is from the email except for translations):

(translation: Shame on Egypt for what is happening to Egyptian Copts)

 

Pictures .. 200 Christians demonstrated in Tahrir Square

Sunday, February 14th, 2010 – 17:43 

 More than 200 Christians today in Tahrir Square, led by the Liberal Party of Egypt and the Copts of Egypt and the Center for a million of human rights, and demanded an end to attacks on the Copts.
The demonstrators chanted slogans against Abd al-Rahim al-Ghoul, MP and accused of being behind the crime of Nag Hammadi.For his part, he said Hani Jazeeri Chairman of the Movement “Copts of Egypt to” go to the People‘s note was provided by Dr. Fathi Sorour, Speaker of the People, calling for the adoption of discussion of the bill Uniform Building places of worship in the current session and cancel meetings of peace and the rule of martial law and bring the perpetrators to the actual trials fair and accountability form of political and public leaders and security events in the Nag Hammadi and other sectarian incidents.

   

(translation: The traditional reconciliation sessions govern us with a rule of iron)

(translation: The Million Center for Human Rights – No to violence among the children of one homeland… No to forcing the Copts to vacate their homes… No to traditional reconciliation sessions…)

(translation: Shame on all of Egypt for what is happening to Egyptian Copts)

(translation of the black sign with white letters in the previous pictures: No to pressures from security)


  

There are many factors here which need brief explanation. Notice first the tattoos on this man’s arm, and in other pictures. Nearly all Copts tattoo a simple cross on their right wrist or hand, but this man’s tattoo is very elaborate, with also a picture of a Christian saint. It is expressive of a deep identity allegiance to Coptic Christianity.

MP Abd al-Rahim al-Ghul is a local politician in Nag Hamadi which was not supported in the previous election cycle by the bishop, resulting in the Christian vote going to his opponent who then won the election. Furthermore, after he denied any relationship with the alleged killer who gunned down the Christians exiting the church, a photo surfaced in which he was pictured standing side-by-side with him. It is important to note that the investigations continue but the trial of the alleged killer has not yet begun.

Reconciliation sessions are a traditional way of adjudicating disputes outside the rule of the law. While innocent in and of themselves, many Copts feel that previous incidents like Nag Hamadi have been ‘solved’ through these ‘reconciliation’ sessions which have been forced upon them by the security forces. In many cases though compensation has been paid by the government to victims the criminals who attacked Christian homes or churches have gone free. In defense of the government it is often difficult to establish guilt in a mass action, and therefore criminal proceedings are difficult.

The uniform bill for building houses of worship is a legislative proposal to stipulate the same regulations and freedoms for both mosque and church construction. Currently, while there is great freedom and simple regulations for building a mosque, it requires the permission of the governor to build, expand, or repair a church. Human rights activists of both religions have called for this bill, and a recent survey by Watani International, a Christian owned daily newspaper, declares that 60% of MPs support the bill as currently drafted, while a further 29% support it with some reservations. Nevertheless, the issue has stalled, and in light of the Nag Hamadi incidents the government has promised to revisit the bill in next year’s legislative session.

Focusing on the demonstration itself, however, there are interesting points to note. Official permits for demonstrations are rare given in Egypt, though demonstrations can begin and have an effect without quick putdown by the government. As is seen in the pictures the police are standing guard, but obviously not breaking up the proceedings. It is unknown, though unlikely, that permission for this demonstration was received beforehand, but prior warning may have been given to secure a police presence, or else security became aware through monitoring the public online organizational activity. Later information revealed that the demonstration proceeded from Tahrir (Liberation) Square, which is the center of downtown Cairo, to the nearby Parliament building, but upon the movement of the demonstration the crowd was dispersed by the authorities.

Arabs outside of Egypt have remarked about the substantially greater freedom enjoyed here than in other nations of the region. As such, as a political event, does this rally speak well of Egypt? Obviously, it is protesting the conduct of the government in the handling of the Nag Hamadi case, but in allowing the at least temporary gathering does this indicate a growing allowance for freedom of expression?

At the same time, it is noteworthy that only three newspapers covered this event. While this could be understandable by the government newspapers this is odd for the party press and independent dailies. These often carry a moderated anti-government message in the selection and presentation of the news. Why would this event not receive their attention?

This question is more significant given the unprecedented nature of the demonstration. While the Western reader is likely accustomed to every interest group holding protests here and there, not only is such demonstration rare in Egypt in general, it is almost unheard of among the Christians. The demonstrations which do occur are almost exclusively held on church property. Expatriate Copts in America, Europe, and Australia often hold demonstrations abroad, seeking to pressure the governments of their adopted countries to pressure the Egyptian government in turn. In general these efforts are not appreciated by Coptic Orthodox Church leadership, which seeks to cultivate a positive relationship with the government, which is very critical of outside interference in its affairs. Nevertheless, individual Copts often look with longing at the freedom enjoyed by their oversees compatriots, and revel in the criticism leveled at a government which is increasing viewed as being ‘Islamic’ or at least discriminatory against Christian interests. For the first time, it seems, Christians in Egypt have adopted these methods locally.

It is an open question to consider if this is a positive or negative development for local Christians. On the one hand, they are taking an active role in the political process, carefully navigating the uncertain allowance of the government to publicly air their complaints. By all indications the demonstration was peaceful. Furthermore, it is an internal and not international response. The protest was joined by local human rights organizations and organized by an opposition political party. The demonstration reveals a growing sphere of civil society participation to be enjoyed by many, if not all, and Christians are among those benefiting. This appears to be a positive development for both Egypt and its Christian community.

On the other hand, is this the best method for airing Christian grievances? In all indications the activity was political; should this be the domain of church-related issues? Furthermore, though the demonstration was peaceful, it was not full of peace. Notice the faces and postures of the demonstrators. These are angry and confrontational, and the slogans are provocative, anti-government in implication if not in direct formulation. Is this proper Christian behavior?

The Christian is here faced with his dual identity as members both of a state, in which he or she enjoys the common rights of citizens, and members of a religion, in which he or she is called to high standards of conduct in preference to the interests of others over his own, and is chiefly called to represent God and Jesus over earthly concerns. While it is good and beneficial, most Christians agree, for Christians to participate actively in the affairs of this world, most Christians also agree the manner of this participation must be regulated by the teachings of Jesus and other Scriptures.

It is difficult to imagine a public demonstration of protest which does not protest, or an angry litany of complaint which is not angry. This demonstration straddles the line between the rights of a citizen and the responsibilities of a Christian. It is difficult to know the balance. It is a negotiation Egyptian Christians have been involved in for some time, but now face a new field of application; may God give them grace. Concerns of the government and the Muslim majority also play a substantial role in their choices; no activity is conducted in a vacuum. These choices will provoke reactions and consequences which could go in any number of directions. Wisdom is called for, with prayerful consideration. Or, perhaps there has been too much prayer already – now is the time to act!

Biblical examples are multifaceted. Christians can find examples of prayerful resignation to circumstances, pious submission to government, astute political maneuvering, decisive claiming of rights, and zealous upheaval of the status quo. Which, if any, of these options is best for the Christians of Egypt? Which is best for the nation as a whole? Who should make this decision? Can various groups answer the question differently? What are the consequences of each? What are the potential benefits? Which best cements the rights of citizens? Which best testifies to the love of God?

May God grant Egypt his blessing, and its citizens his wisdom.