School Kids and Microbuses

A few weeks ago we provided a look into our local neighborhood here in Maadi, Cairo, during a seven minute video tour from our apartment to my work. Click here if you missed it or would like to see it again. Today we provide an extended look at one of the more lively sections of this walk, taken from our balcony depicting the street below.

Julie provides the commentary at the moment the kids from the boys’ school exit out onto the street, which also happens to be the beginning point of local public transportation in which microbuses carry residents from a nearby neighborhood back and forth. Our street is not always as noisy as the video will show, but neither is what she will show you unusual.

Please click here to enjoy the video on Vimeo (sorry, we had trouble with YouTube).

Note: Should the microbuses in particular strike your fancy, please pay attention for a coming post Julie is preparing which features another aspect of these, our illustrious neighbors…

Published in: on April 29, 2010 at 5:43 pm  Leave a Comment  
Tags: , ,

Metro Etiquette

Tonight I rode on the metro here for the first time WITH the kids and WITHOUT Jayson.  I’ve taken the metro by myself, and with Jayson, and with Jayson and the kids, but not on my own with the kids.  It actually went quite smoothly as the girls cooperated beautifully.

I am always impressed on public transportation at people’s kindness to the stranger.  I first noticed it in Tunisia when we would ride the bus.  When I entered the bus with a small child (or two), inevitably, someone would rise from their seat and offer it to me.  I haven’t ridden public transportation in the US ever, so I don’t know if the same rules apply there, but I always appreciated being able to sit down with the little one(s).

I think the same rules apply here in Egypt, but there is an interesting twist here.  One of the best features of the Egyptian metro system is their inclusion of a “ladies only” car.

Actually, there are two cars on each metro that are just for women.  I believe they differ slightly in that one of the cars allows men after a certain hour, but the other one is only for women all the time.  This is nice since the metro is often crowded, and at times crowded conditions can invite unwelcome attention.  Knowing one can enter a car reserved for just women gives a certain peace of mind.

I’ve ridden the metro by myself only a couple times, and have always chosen the women’s car at those times.  I was surprised a couple times to see some men in this car, but they definitely kept their distance from the women.  I could see that the women ruled in this car, and sometimes they would tell the men they shouldn’t be there.  Other times it seemed the men were with the women, but again, they kept their distance from the women they didn’t know.  The whole science of the “ladies only” car would be an interesting one to study if I had time to just ride the metro whenever I wanted.

But, alas, I don’t.  I can, however, make some observations from what I saw tonight. Jayson had a meeting downtown so we took the first leg of the journey together on the men’s car.  When I was on the first leg of the journey someone gave their seat up for me pretty quickly.  Later on, after Jayson left, I wondered if that might be one of the negatives of the ladies car.  I think that in general, the men might feel a little more obliged to give their seat up for a woman with small children, but for some reason, other women might not.  In some ways, you would think that they would feel more sympathy and offer their seat more readily, but I think there is something inside a man that just wants to help a woman in “distress.”  Anyway, at least on the first leg, someone offered me a seat.  I sat down with Hannah on one leg as it’s hard to put her in the middle of my lap as baby #3 is taking up more space these days.  Emma wanted to sit on her own so she sat right next to me.  I remember thinking at that point that it was nice to be in this position.  I never really had to think about getting up to offer someone a seat, as long as I had two little ones with me.  After all, there is a sign there which indicates the seats are there for, to translate literally, people with special needs: the elderly, the pregnant, women with young children, and the handicapped.

I didn’t even have to notice others’ needs as long as I was one of the needy ones.  As such, we had a nice, comfortable ride all the way to the first stop where we switched metros and Jayson went on his way.

The second leg took a little more work, but not too much.  These particular women must not have believed in the “woman in distress” theory, because when I boarded with two children in tow, and a third in my belly, no one made a motion to move.  Instead, an American twenty-something woman, who was also standing, noticed me, and asked someone if I could take her seat.  The sitting woman readily got up for me, but again, she didn’t do it on her own.  So we got to sit for that leg of the journey as well.

The return trip, also in a women’s car, went pretty well as someone got off their seat almost immediately and let me sit in a seat.  The girls were able to enjoy some lollipops that I had promised them during this twenty minute leg of the journey before we had to switch metro lines one last time.  We got on our last metro at a main station, so even the women’s car was quite crowded, and I as I looked around at the women seated, trying not to make eye contact exactly, but trying to notice if anyone made any slight motion to me, I realized that no one was making a move to get up.  Oh well. I did my best to keep my balance holding two little hands.  But nearby was a woman dressed in the niqab (a head covering that also covers the whole face except for two eye holes), and holding a toddler on her lap.  Her six year old daughter may have been on her lap as well, I didn’t notice at first, but almost immediately she saw my need and offered half her lap for one of my children.  Emma refused, so I put Hannah there instead where she played fairly happily for most of the ride.  I kind of marveled at the woman’s kindness as I thought about my ride earlier that evening when I didn’t even look for other people in need since I was the needy one.  I was grateful for her kindness and she even got up halfway through the ride when Hannah refused to sit on her lap any longer, and offered her seat to me.  Granted, she was getting out earlier than I was, but still, she gave up her space for me.

This was a good lesson for me to not just expect other’s kindness, and in some ways, demand it of them as I fit the description of a “needy passenger.”  Instead, I should look for ways that I can help others in need. I owe a big ‘thanks’ to the stranger in the niqab for teaching me about seeing others’ needs above my own.

Published in: on April 25, 2010 at 7:39 am  Comments (1)  
Tags: , , ,

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.

Published in: on April 22, 2010 at 3:34 pm  Leave a Comment  
Tags: , , , ,

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.

Published in: on April 19, 2010 at 11:48 am  Leave a Comment  
Tags: , , , ,

Joseph and the Sheep, part two

Click here to read part one.

The next morning Joseph arose, opened the wolf’s cage and placed a rope around his neck. He led him to the sheepfold and opened the gate, then beckoned the sheep to pasture. Obediently as always, though with a sense of apprehension, they moved forward. Still and silent, the wolf looked on.

The day progressed as each day before, with the lone exception being the wolf sitting at Joseph’s side. The sheep milled about, each to his own business, eating grass as hunger dictated. By midday Joseph signaled for all to advance to the river and led the procession with wolf in tow. Once arrived, they all drank.

The afternoon held more of the same. Joseph stood solemnly with the wolf by his side as the sheep would graze. Yet for some reason the wolf grew more and more agitated. It started slowly with a low, guttural bellow. A little while later his tail began to sway, slightly more than usual. Sometime later, he began to twitch.

The two sheep who earlier had tried to communicate with the wolf were the first to notice the change in constitution. Sympathetically, they approached to inquire and offer their greetings. They had realized that all morning the wolf had been neglected, as each sheep, including themselves, had simply pursued their normal routine. The wolf, they thought, had behaved all day, but was never extended a welcome.

Just as the sheep were gaining their awareness, the wolf was losing his. The twitching had become a full on shake; he was not suffering from loneliness, but from hunger. Denied his prey the day before, it had been far too long since he had eaten. The sheep’s grass did not appeal at all.

As the sheep sauntered closer his instincts kicked in. Explosively he launched himself at the tender sheep who froze in their tracks. Inches away from descending upon them he jerked back, as Joseph held the rope taut. The wolf collapsed and whimpered in pain as the sheep, cautiously, gathered around.

At this point in the story Emma spoke up. “Maybe they should kill a kharouf, or a baqara.” I cannot tell if she knew exactly what she was saying, but she gave me the ending necessary. The word baqara is Arabic for cow, but kharouf is Arabic for sheep.

Joseph gathered the extended rope and began again to tie the wolf’s mouth and front legs. Just then an older sheep moved forward sadly, but deliberately. He spoke to Joseph while looking at the wolf, “It is true a wolf must eat meat. We sheep love you Joseph, and enjoy the meadow and the river and the sheepfold. But we also know that the day will come when we are slaughtered so that men can eat. I am the oldest sheep here, and therefore the next to die. Take me now, sacrifice me, and give my meat to the wolf. Then he can stay with us, be filled, and not attack.”

Joseph looked at his sheep with compassion; all nodded their heads in agreement, implicitly knowing their time would also come. Joseph drew his knife and cut up the generous sheep.

That evening the wolf ate more deliberately than he ever did before. As Joseph led the sheep back to the fold he brought the wolf, bound now only by the original rope around his neck, back to the cage. He entered, sheepishly, and Joseph spoke to him. “Tomorrow you will come out with us again, only this time, there will be no rope. You will be fed by the meat provided yesterday, and drink with the sheep from the river. You will stay by my side, and I will watch you. Take care, but join our flock.”

The next morning the sheep went out again, walking with one eye askance at the wolf who was walking unbound by Joseph’s side. During the morning grazing the two sheep wandered but then remembered to greet the wolf. From afar they made their way towards him, making sure their approach kept Joseph in between the two parties. Taking notice of them the wolf’s ears shot up. He burst past Joseph, knocking him down as he raced in their direction. The sheep had imagined being less timid, but their primal fear resurfaced as the wolf’s fangs emerged. As he leaped their “Baaaaaaa” hung in the air like an icy chill but then trailed off as the wolf, strangely, missed his mark. The sheep looked back to find the wolf covered in blood, his jaw clenched around the throat of a jackal which had moved against the sheep from behind.

Joseph came quickly and all the other sheep looked on. He rubbed his hand against the fur of the wolf and whispered his thanks into his ear. Then he collected the carcass of the jackal to prepare later for food, redeeming the life of the now-oldest sheep, if only for a time. The two sheep, meanwhile, had recovered from their shock and nestled their noses into the wolf’s side. “Next time,” they said as they smiled, “perhaps you can talk to him first; maybe he would be friendly. But you will have to be very brave…”

Note: ‘cut up’ is the language Emma uses for how sheep die. To find out why, read this earlier post.

Published in: on April 16, 2010 at 12:12 pm  Leave a Comment  
Tags: ,

Joseph and the Sheep

Sometimes I like to tell Emma and Hannah stories. I ask Emma for a subject and then Hannah for one, and try to combine the two into a tale or song. On this occasion, just before Julie was to put them to bed, Emma asked for Joseph, as in the one with the fancy colored coat, and Hannah asked for sheep. As I take liberty with the story, the tale which follows has no resemblance to the Biblical Joseph save for his name. I hope you enjoy; the ending will have a question I hope you find insightful, and for which your comments are appreciated.

One day Joseph was out tending his sheep. He brought them to green grass which he had them eat, and to sparkling waters which he had them drink. (Emma and Hannah were sitting on the floor as I sat on the bed, and they were encouraged to bend to the floor to eat and drink as well. Feel free to do the same.)

One day as they were enjoying their normal day the sheep spotted a wolf in the distance. They were scared, and looked to Joseph to know what to do.

Joseph was a kind shepherd with a good heart; not only did he love his sheep he wanted all animals to live in peace. He brought two sheep in close to speak with them privately.

“I would like you two sheep to be very brave,” he said. “When the wolf comes I would like you to stand your ground and not run away. As he approaches greet him simply, and say ‘hello’. I will go and hide behind that nearby tree. If the wolf greets you back and is friendly, all will be well. If not, I will jump out from behind the tree so that he does not harm you. Can you do this?”

The sheep were afraid, but trusted Joseph. As the wolf descended the hill they stepped forward timidly, so as to be the first sheep he would come across in the flock. As the wolf noticed this, the rapid pace of his bounding slowed; it was not often the sheep would come to him.

“H-h-hello Mr. Wolf, h-h-how are you?” the sheep initiated nervously.

The wolf stopped, but gave no reply. His back legs coiled and his lips drew back revealing the pointed tips of his fangs. Just as he was about to spring upon his prey Joseph leaped out from behind the tree, catching the wolf in mid-air, and wrestled him to the ground. He took out his rope and bound his mouth and his front legs. As the sheep cheered, Joseph took a peg and tied the wolf to the stake in the ground, and each sheep went back to his grazing.

As the day progressed Joseph led the sheep to other pastures, taking the wolf along with them, and several hours later returned to the river to drink. The two sheep watched curiously as Joseph walked the wolf, still bound by the rope, everywhere they went. As he untied his mouth and allowed him also to drink, however, they could no longer hold their peace.

“Why are you taking that wolf with us wherever we go?” they asked. “He tried to kill us all, you should have left him bound, tied to the ground to die. Yet now you even loosen his mouth to give him to drink? Why are you helping him?”

The wolf raised his pointed ears as he continued to lap up the river water. “It is true this wolf tried to kill you, but we must show him kindness even so. It may be that if we do not treat him as he deserves that he will change and also be kind in return. You were very brave when you tried this at first; you must continue to be brave. But do not be afraid, I will not let him harm you. Tomorrow I will take him with us again out to pasture. I will even let him run freely, though he will stay connected to my rope. If he cannot change, I will take him far away from you, so that he will not bother you again. But this is something which we must try.”

The sheep nodded warily, and Joseph led the flock back into their fold. The wolf he pulled aside to put into a separate cage. As he closed the gate he looked sympathetically at the wolf.

“Tomorrow we will return to the fields,” he spoke as he untied the rope from his mouth and front legs, which had been reapplied after leaving the river. “I will even keep these ropes away from you, save for this long one around your neck. You will be with us and I will treat you kindly as I treat my sheep, but I will watch you closely. I will send you far away, back to the wild, should you try to harm them.”

The wolf nodded, Joseph left, and the sheep bleated in the distance. After pacing about his cage for what seemed like an eternity, the wolf went to sleep.

Tell me, what should happen next? Emma and Hannah were engrossed in the story, and I was thankful it was time for them to go to sleep themselves. To be honest, I had no idea where to go next. Should the wolf reform and join the flock? Should he lash out once more and be banished forever? More importantly, what lesson should be woven into this tale?

Up until now I have had no qualms with the implicit sermonizing. It is good to stand firmly, but friendly, against an oppositional threat. Once subdued, kindness must be offered instead of revenge. I will be very proud if my daughters behave this way.

Yet there are wolves in this world, and generally speaking, they do not change. If the story continues with a repentant wolf, will I be painting a false idealism which will set them up for failure and pain? Or, if the wolf resumes his attack in the morning – worse if he pretends to be reformed – will I confirm, to modify the metaphor, that a leopard cannot change his spots, and therefore we should always be guarded?

It is only a story, and it will fade from memory. Life teaches the best lessons. Stories, however, provide the interpretive context.

The next morning the girls awoke and immediately desired the conclusion of the story. Not knowing exactly what to do, I began by retelling the story from the beginning. Along the way, Emma provided the answer…

Part two will follow in a couple days. Until then, if you have suggestions for how the story should continue and end, please feel free to share in the comments.

Published in: on April 13, 2010 at 7:20 pm  Comments (2)  
Tags: ,

Stop and See the Flowers

Autumn has always been my favorite time of year.  Maybe it’s because the weather is cooling; maybe it’s because my birthday falls in October; or most likely, it’s because of the beautiful colors one can see in our home area of Pennsylvania and New Jersey.  I remember when I lived in Jordan and was asked what my favorite season was.  A few people told me that “autumn” is a strange answer.  There really wasn’t anything too special about autumn in Amman, and it just signaled the beginning of the cold, rainy weather.  If my Jordanian friends could see the fall foliage in my neck of the woods, however, they would understand my preference.

I may be developing a new favorite season, and if so, it is thanks to my two little girls, Emma and Hannah.  Emma, at 3½, pretty much knows all her colors, but Hannah (almost 2) is just learning to differentiate what is green, blue, purple, pink, orange, etc.  It seems she knows what some of them are, but just when we think she’s getting it, we ask her what color the tree is and she says, “Blue.”  Oh well.  It takes time.

The other day, as we were walking through our neighborhood taking Emma to her preschool, one of us noticed some of the colorful flowers that have begun to bloom here in Maadi.  I have never been a big fan of plants and flowers and don’t know the names of them, but for the first time, I started to notice the colors surrounding us.  As we walked along, the girls excitedly pointed out the pink and orange and purple flowers.  After a few minutes Hannah, especially, got excited every time she saw a color.  “Look Mommy!” she would exclaim.  Her enthusiasm is so wonderful as she kicks her feet in the stroller and points toward the tree, “Pink!”  What a wonderful way to learn colors!  Of course, God’s painting involves more than basic colors, and I find myself saying, “Well, yes, that is kind of purpley-pink,” or, “yellowish-orange,” or whatever, but hopefully she will slowly get the idea.

Thanks to my girls for showing me some of the natural beauty that surrounds us here in Maadi.  I know we’re blessed being in this part of the city where there is grass and trees and flowers; it’s not the norm in Cairo.  Of course, kids can see beauty in anything, and today as we walked, they were noticing the different colors of the cars parked along the street.  I might rather have noticed the dents, scratches, and rust. It’s a good reminder to appreciate what you see around you … whether that’s God’s handiwork in creation, or man’s creativity in imitation!

Published in: on April 8, 2010 at 7:22 pm  Leave a Comment  
Tags: , , ,

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.  

Published in: on April 4, 2010 at 12:59 pm  Comments (1)  
Tags: , , , , , , ,

On Building Churches

Another report I had earlier prepared, published in www.arabwestreport.info and on our peacemaking project webpage at www.enawu.com, is now posted here. This is a fascinating tale about how Christians can build churches in Egypt. This is a controversial subject, and human rights lawyers from both Islam and Christianity highlight the lack of one law to guide both mosque and church construction. Even so, the story told here of Fr. Yu’annis, who earlier was featured for his comments on Nag Hamadi, shows the power of personal relationships in getting a job done in Egypt. For those of you who have heard that in Egypt a presidential decree is necessary even to change a light bulb in a church, you are encouraged to read on…

On January 6 six Coptic Christians were murdered as they exited Christmas Eve mass in the town of Nag Hamadi, Qena. This event followed recent attacks on Christians in the towns of Farshut, Dayrut, Izbet Bushra, and elsewhere. While events like these are usually tied to other issues in the communities in which they occur, and not simply devices of persecution aimed at the Christian population, many Copts have interpreted these events as evidence of the weakness of the government in providing protection, if not willful negligence of their rights. They then succumb to the idea that the nation is Islamic and against them, and this attitude colors their every perception, including the advantages which Copts enjoy today.

Another area which mobilizes Coptic frustration against the state is in its policy of church building. Since early Islamic times the so-called Pact of Omar, the third caliph of the Islamic state, allowed Christians many freedoms of worship in their own community, but forbade the construction of new churches or the renovation of old ones, without the specific authorization of the head of state. While this policy has been unevenly applied throughout history, it is true that Christians have suffered because of it. Often cited in more recent history is the Hamayonic Script, which was employed in the Ottoman Empire to regulate ecclesiastic matters. Although popular consciousness, both Muslim and Christian, still operate under the assumption of this ruling, according to Dr. Nabil Luka Bebawy, a Coptic member of the Shura Council, it has no standing whatsoever in Egyptian law.

Nevertheless, it is apparent that the difficulty experienced in building churches differs from the relative ease in which mosques are constructed. Christians complain that even when permission to build a church is granted, the local security authorities will often prevent them. While this can be in fear of offending local Muslim sentiments and bringing on sectarian strife, Christians sometimes accuse security itself of Islamic bias in preventing construction. Human rights advocates, both Muslim and Christian, have called on the government to pass the Unified Law for Building Houses of Worship, which would streamline the process and place each community on equal footing. Though this issue has stalled in Parliament, the approval for building churches was shifted from the national authority to the regional, and each governor is now responsible for issuing or denying the request to build.

The following story is about Fr. Yu’annis of Qufada, a village in the bishopric of Maghagha and the governorate of Assiut. It will illustrate the frustrations of the Christian community, but also provide an example of how they can be transcended. While the difficulties faced in building churches are true and real in many parts of the country, the conduct of Christians can make a difference in alleviating them. At the very least, it will demonstrate that discrimination against Christians is not systematic, and that building churches to meet community needs is possible.

In 1996, Fr. Yu’annis was a forty year old priest. Though he was still relatively young he had already acquired seventeen years of experience, serving in the historic Holy Family site and village of Shanin al-Nasara. This village was then in the bishopric of Beni Suef, under the authority of Bishop Athanasius. After the death of the bishop in 2001 the bishopric was divided into five smaller districts, and Fr. Yu’annis found himself situated in the newly created bishopric of Maghagha. The successes of Fr. Yu’annis, however, all date previous to the bishop’s death, which was to be an ominous date for another reason in the story to be told.

Bishop Athanasius was acclaimed as a wise and generous leader, looking beyond the interests of the Christian community. He was aware not only that Muslims suffered the same difficulties as Christians—unemployment, underdevelopment, unsanitary conditions—but also that the best way to ensure Christian success in the area was to knit the two religious communities together. In the neighboring governorate of Assiut there had been a rise in Islamic militancy, and had produced a counter-reaction of Christian withdrawal from society. In hopes of alleviating this social trend, Bishop Athanasius created a charitable non-governmental organization, Better Life, which though administrated by Christians actively and intentionally served both communities. As a result, Bishop Athanasius enjoyed great popularity and influence in the region.

During his tenure Bishop Athanasius consecrated many priests, many of which followed his example. Fr. Yu’annis was one of them, and spoke very highly of his bishop, whose lead he tried to follow. The recognition of the importance of good relations with the authorities, however, did not come right away, though ignorance or naiveté may have been a cause.

As mentioned earlier, Shanin al-Nasara is a Holy Family site, reputed to be the first landing place of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph in Upper Egypt after they departed from Maadi, Cairo. Here they rested seven days, and drank from a well whose location is still preserved today. Due to this fact the town receives thousands of pilgrims every year, and local leadership under the initiative of Fr. Yu’annis decided it would be fruitful to build a conference center adjacent to the ancient church. As construction began, however, security immediately arrived and stopped the building. Fr. Yu’annis was taken to the police station for questioning. He would later testify that he did not think he was doing anything wrong, as he was not building a church, but a center for services.

The police did not see it that way. According to Fr. Yu’annis he spent the night in the station, not behind bars but yet under guard. The next day the policeman interrogated him very harshly, insulting both him and his mother. Upon insisting he was not building a church the officer mocked him, “President Clinton insisted he did nothing with Monica, and we should believe that you are telling the truth?” Nevertheless, after several hours Fr. Yu’annis affixed his name to a document stating his intentions for the building, and was released.

Fr. Yu’annis left the station and traveled immediately to Cairo. In typical modern day Coptic fashion he was thinking, in all probability correctly, of demanding his rights. Knowing a Christian there who had a relationship with the Ministry of the Interior, Gen. Habib Adli, he asked for an audience. Though the minister was unavailable he did succeed in meeting his deputy, Gen. Rida al-Habbal, and told him what had happened. The general responded sympathetically to his story, and sent him back to Minia to meet Gen. Muhammad Sadek, an inspector for State Security. Incidentally, the two men’s wives were sisters to each other.

Gen. Sadek received Fr. Yu’annis warmly and asked him what was wrong. Upon recounting the incidents he began to cry, and the general placed his hand on the priest’s shoulder, telling him he would take care of everything. Security clearance to build the service center was granted, and the officer who maltreated him was docked pay, reassigned elsewhere, and reduced in rank. The greatest offer, however, came next.

Gen. Sadek asked Fr. Yu’annis if the church was experiencing any other difficulties with its houses of worship. “Most certainly,” he replied, and he began telling the officer about each one. Upon completion he was asked if he wished to be the official church representative before the security agency, so that there would be good contact between them and the church. Fr. Yu’annis smiled broadly, and took his leave to present this idea to Bishop Athanasius.

The bishop was of course pleased by this arrangement, and sent Fr. Yu’annis back to meet Gen. Sadek, presenting him with an ornate Qur’an, complete with gold tinged pages and raised lettering, as an expression of thanks. The general accepted this gift, and their relationship began. Bishop Athanasius had earlier explained to Fr. Yu’annis that there is an important distinction between a blessing and a bribe. A bribe is given when one asks for that which is outside his right; a blessing is given as encouragement and thanks for one who will help obtain that right. A Christian should have no part in the former, but the latter is quite normal and necessary in Egypt. As the years went by Fr. Yu’annis and Gen. Sadek would mutually exchange several gifts, including sheep and chocolate on the occasions of holiday. They maintain their friendship to this day.

Each time Fr. Yu’annis would approach Gen. Sadek with a church building issue he would present the facts, making certain to be accurate, never exceeding that which was necessary for Christian worship in a particular community. With this report the security would investigate the area in question, agree on the assessment of the church, and grant authority to build, renovate, or expand under certain conditions. As all—bishop, priest, and security—were conscious of the sensibilities of local Muslims and their possible disturbance by the building of a church, everything was done through consensus and avoidance of ostentation. The church tower, for example, was kept below the height of the village mosque minaret. Aware that the church was a tool for worship, not for projection of identity, neither the bishop nor the priest had any objections, which kept also the objections of local Muslims at bay. In the positive atmosphere previously created by the social development activities of Bishop Athanasius, Fr. Yu’annis helped facilitate the approval of building, renovating, or expanding twenty-four churches, which will be listed below.

These churches were built over a period of five years which ended in 2001. This year marked two unfortunate occurrences for the area. First, Bishop Athanasius died, and his bishopric was divided into smaller districts. The bishops newly consecrated for these areas by definition lack the experience and insight of their predecessor, and have not yet been able to earn the same level of respect. Second, Gen. Sadek was promoted outside of the area to a position in Cairo, and Fr. Yu’annis has not succeeded in cultivating as close a relationship with his successor. Perhaps personal mistakes have been made; perhaps the sectarian climate affects both Muslims and Christians. The result, however, is that since 2001 there have been only two authorizations granted for building activity in the area.

This story lends credence to both sides of the Coptic debate about the society they live in. On the one hand, it both begins and ends with the fact of difficulty in obtaining authorization. There is no Unified Law for Building Houses of Worship, and everything seems to depend on the whims of personal relationship. Yet on the other hand the reality of personal relationship suggests that Christians can find wide freedom to erect structures as necessary, provided they consider the contexts in which they live. Though this does not provide the clear cut rule of law which so many desire, it is fitting with Egyptian society at all levels; Egypt is not a country of rules but of relationships. Within these relationships Christians, like all Egyptians, can live and worship freely. Without them Christians, like all Egyptians, can be lost.

Churches in Maghagha

1)      The Church of the Archangel

2)      The Church of St. Dimyana

3)      Lighthouse Church of the Holy Virgin

4)      The Church of St. Mark – Seat of the Bishopric

Village Churches around Maghagha

5)      The Church of St. Mark, Abbad Sharuna

6)      The Church of the Archangel, Sharuna

7)      The Church of St. George, Gazirat Sharuna

8)      The Church of St. George, Belhasa

9)      The Church of St. George, Sheikh Masud

10)   The Church of St. George, Barmasha

11)   The Church of the Holy Virgin, Beni Walims

12)   The Church of St. Mark, Nazlet Asr

13)   The Church of St. George, Sheikh Ziyad

14)   The Church of the Archangel, Dahrut

15)   Social Service Building, Shanin al-Nasara

16)   The Church of the Holy Virgin and Bishop Samuel, Izbet Rizq

17)   The Church of the Holy Virgin, Abasiya

Beni Mazar

18)   The Church of the Apostles, Ashruba

19)   The Church of the Holy Virgin, al-Mahtan

20)   The Church of the Holy Virgin, Nazlet Gulf

21)   The Church of the Holy Virgin, Batruga

Mattai

22)   The Church of St. Athanasius, Kafur

23)   The Church of the Holy Virgin, al-Kawadi

Samalut

24)   The Church of the Archangel, al-Qatusha

Published in: on April 2, 2010 at 2:01 pm  Comments (1)  
Tags: , , , ,
Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 274 other followers