Crusader Cistercian Church, now Orthodox Church

Crusader Cistercian Church, now Orthodox Church
Balamand University near Tripoli

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

With Father Elie Azzi & the Maronites in Qannoubine Valley, Lebanon


On the first Saturday in November (6th), Dean George Sabra’s ‘Contemporary Eastern Churches’ class boarded a small bus at NEST early in the a.m. that drove us up into the northern range of Mount Lebanon. Along the way we picked up Fr. Elie Azzi, a Maronite priest and historian of his tradition, Lebanon’s largest Christian church and one of its oldest indigenous Christian institutions.

Fr. Azzi was our guide to the Qadisha Valley, also called the “Valley of the Saints.’ Carved into the sheer rock faces of the mountain he would led us down are a series of tiny monasteries and churches that once housed the patriarchs, monks, and many members of the Maronite Christian community when they sought a separate space from their Muslim overlords.

The Maronites (their name does not refer to Mary the mother of Jesus but to Saint Maroon, died 410 CE) are one of the most distinctive Christian churches in the Middle East. Their cultural and theological heritage is Syriac and Antiochene, yet their Christology is Chalcedonian; they are a patriarchal and monastic church that places a high value on asceticism as the truest form of the Christian life; they have acknowledged the primacy of the Pope in Rome since the time of the Crusades; they are grounded in Lebanon as their physical and spiritual home (although many Maronite Christians live in the Lebanese Diaspora). The Maronites have achieved a distinctive balance between both eastern and western Christianity. Their patriarch and monks live their ascetic lives very close to the laity, creating strong bonds of solidarity between laity and clergy. 

On the trip up I sat with the Rev. Nabil Shehadi, Vicar of All Saints’ International Congregation (www.allsaintsbeirut.com) and the Archbishop of Canterbury’s Representative to the Oriental Orthodox Churches. Rev. Nabil’s family is Lebanese Presbyterian. He studied architecture and became a licensed architect in London, England for many years, some of which overlapped with the Lebanese civil war. During that time, he discovered the Church of England, studied theology, and became an Anglican priest. His congregation in Beirut is located very near the Mediterranean in the first Christian church rebuilt after the civil war.

Rev. Nabil is also the Alpha Advisor for Lebanon, a great proponent of the Alpha Program (founded in England) as a means of evangelization. Unlike many other countries in the Middle East, citizens of Lebanon are free to convert from their parents’ religion to another. And as Rev. Nabil explained to me in the words of another Christian leader in this region, some Christians have been thoroughly ‘sacramentalized’ but not ‘evangelized.’ As an Anglican by adult decision, he seeks to create opportunities for other Lebanese to learn about the Christian message in creative new ways.

After driving up extremely inclined mountain roads for several hours, our bus trip ended on the top of a peak with absolutely gorgeous views. (No pun intended…there were some very steep gorges.) Fr. Azzi, Dean Sabra and Mrs. Sabra (Lydia is a teacher of music at the International School on the American Univ. of Beirut campus) led us down a series of rocky, steep steps with scattered rock fragments on almost every step. I was glad I had taken a course in mountain climbing during college on our way down. Some in our group had brought hiking poles to steady themselves on the descent. We each carried most of the food and water we would have for the daylight hours.

One of the goals on our descent of the mountain was to visit the hermitage of Fr. Dario Escobar, a priest from Columbia who became a Maronite to pursue the ancient way of the Christian hermits who have inhabited Lebanon for more than 1500 years. When we finally reached the hermitage, Fr. Azzi led us into a tiny chapel where we could cool down from the descent and pray. He quietly explained to us that two years ago, Fr. Escobar had been photographed by someone who had put his picture up on Facebook. This led to an overwhelming number of people climbing down to the hermitage to visit (and then disturb) Fr. Escobar in his life of daily prayer and study. According to Fr. Azzi, Fr. Escobar had spoken to no one for two years. We quietly enjoyed the cool chapel and then moved further down the trail.

Some of us who had just seen the new film, The Social Network, were not surprised that the global reach of Facebook had even disturbed the life of a hermit for Christ in this remote part of Lebanon. The power of technology both intimately connects us to one another and alienates us from our souls all at the same time unless we share in a power greater than technique alone.

But Rev. Nabil and Christian, one of the NEST students from the Univ. of Göttingen, stayed behind to explore some more of the hermitage. Suddenly they realized someone else was with them…Fr. Dario. He spoke with them and shared some stories from his student days. After this encounter, Christian ran to catch up with the larger group to tell us he had been one of the first persons the hermit had spoken with after two years of retreat. Meanwhile Rev. Nabil who is an excellent hiker rounded up some members of our group that was now strung out along a steep mountain path.

Along the way, we stopped at another tiny church that commemorates the life of a Maronite young woman who impersonated a man in order to become a monk. None of her brother monks discovered her secret and she was allowed to join the order on the mountain. After some years a woman in a local village accused the ‘monk’ of having fathered her child. As an act of penance, the monk raised the child as ‘his’ own. When the monk finally died, her secret was discovered and she was remembered as a saint for holy life exemplified in the fact that she had cared for a child not her own just like a parent.

Some students in our group found this hagiography hard to believe. But in terms of historical gender studies, a woman who convincingly impersonates a man is not totally unique in history. (Some will remember the Barbara Streisand film of a few decades ago about a young Jewish woman who impersonates a man in order to enter Orthodox rabbinical studies.)

We stopped at another monastery and church for lunch, where we met some other hikers from different countries. Overall I was struck with how few hikers were on this mountain on a gorgeous fall day.

As we continued to hike down to a more flat, mountain path that ran along an icy stream where there were tiny cafes, Fr. Azzi would pause and show us in his binoculars tiny monasteries carved into the cliffs of the mountain. The medieval Maronites must have been excellent rock climbers or built wooden cranes with baskets to lower monks into these tiny spaces.

The ascetic, mountain existence of the Maronites exemplifies the fiercely independent spirit of the Lebanese Christians, Catholic, Orthodox, and Protestant. In the mountains the Maronites were safe from the armies of their Muslim rulers and escaped the taxes levied on Christian and Jewish citizens of Islamic empires. Christians were the majority population of Lebanon until sometime in the 1960s, and Lebanon emerged from the Ottoman Empire as a new Christian majority nation just after WWI. Seats in the Lebanese Parliament are still divided 50 / 50 between Christian and Muslim political representatives due in part to the Maronite heritage. Their church still owns about 23% of all properties in the nation. They also have a reputation as fierce soldiers and fighters in the complex political history of this cross roads of the ancient and modern Middle East.

As the sun was beginning to set, we boarded the bus for the long drive back to Beirut. Along the way we passed through tiny mountain villages where most inhabitants are still Maronites. When we asked Fr. Azzi for some good resources on the history of his Church, he said the best texts are in Arabic, French, Russian, and German. Most books on the Maronites in English are written for the busy tourist or pilgrim, not the student or scholar of Eastern Churches.
   
When I return to Chicago, the Maronites are another eastern Christian church I want to rediscover in my own city where the Diaspora of Christians from the Middle East continues.

Saturday, November 13, 2010

Welcome to Damascus, Syria

On Saturday 30 October, three Americans living at NEST traveled to Damascus, Syria, a first-time trip for all of us. Karen & Gary Garbrielson, members of the ELCA from Colorado Springs, CO, lived for many years in Saudi Arabia when Gary worked for the Saudi airline. Gary speaks some Arabic and Karen enjoys shopping in souks (marketplaces with hundreds, in some cases thousands of tiny shops & vendors), so they are excellent traveling companions for an American on his first trip to Syria. Gary is working with NEST’s IT system as a volunteer from the ELCA this fall, and Karen is auditing courses at NEST.

NEST arranged for a Lebanese taxi driver from Hamra to take us up over the Mount Lebanon range through Lebanese and Syrian border crossings into Syria. The drive up over Mt. Lebanon early on a Saturday morning through the fog and mist gave us our first view of the beautiful breadbasket of Lebanon, the Bekah Valley.

When we crossed the border into Syria, Karen & Gary immediately were struck with how much Syria looks like Colorado: tall, steep mountains against a dry wilderness. Our Lebanese driver turned us over to a Syrian taxi driver who took us into the ancient / modern city of Damascus.  

The Greek Orthodox monastery where we stayed in Damasucs, St. Elias, was located in the former Christian & Jewish districts of the old city that was surrounded by walls and gates (called 'bab/s'). It is next door to the R. Catholic church that claims to be built on the site where Saul was unhorsed by the risen Jesus. There is a beautiful modernist chapel on the grounds of the church built in the 1950s that houses the traditional site that looks like a stone road over a very small grotto for prayer. 

On Saturday p.m., after lunch in a restaurant near our monastery with no tourists at all, we took a cab to the old souk (marketplace) to see the Umayyad mosque, one of the largest and most beautiful from the centuries of early Islam.

The souk of Damascus is enormous! Imagine on a Saturday p.m., more people than the Mall of America in Minneapolis with more than a thousand tiny shops that sell everything from ornate Qur'ans to exotic lingerie. It was absolutely packed with people doing weekend shopping. We found the Umayyad mosque and slipped inside and first saw Saladin's tomb (he was the Kurdish Muslim commander who defeated the Crusaders and re-established Muslim control over Jerusalem). 

The interior of the mosque was a huge courtyard surrounded by ornate walls with stonework, gold leaf, and several minarets. There were side door openings into halls for prayer. In the courtyard everyone had their shoes off, but families and groups came there to eat bag lunches, fly kites, take pictures, etc. It was a great civic space inside of a mosque and open to the sky. 

Milling around in the souk was tiring after our long cab drive early in the day, so we returned to the monastery before catching a cab to Bab Sharki, the city gate closest to our quarter. There we found by accident the R. Catholic church built over the traditional site of the home of Ananias, the Christian in Damascus who baptized Saul / Paul. We happened to arrive when Saturday evening mass was being celebrated in Arabic with both women and male priests leading the liturgy in a packed basement church that looked like it was cut out of the stone. 

Afterwards we had dinner at the 'St. Paul Cafe' that is beside Ananias' home. There we sampled a very tasty Syrian beer, a surprise for us in the Muslim-majority nation of Syria. (As someone in Beirut said to me: ‘Allah has many commandments, but we don’t follow them all;’ a wise saying for understanding daily life in Beirut, Damascus, & Jerusalem.)

On Saturday p.m., my friends discovered that their Anglican friend's congregation we were planning to attend on Sunday a.m. only has worship on Fridays and Saturdays. Sunday is a regular business day in Damascus. So on Sunday a.m. we took a cab to the Syrian National Museum which has room after room of archaeological objects from multiple civilizations. There I saw the original objects of many ancient civilizations that are displayed in introductions to the Hebrew Bible / Old Testament. We had lunch in the garden of the museum, then returned to the souk to try to find some gifts.

The citadel of Damascus was closed for renovations but we had dinner in a cafe overlooking the citadel and the old souk. 

On Saturday and Sunday evening we checked out Syrian TV. Lots of soap operas in Arabic (produced in Egypt?) and a number of stations devoted to music videos produced in the Middle East by various musicians mixed with N. American music videos. The FMTV channel seemed quite daring in what they were broadcasting in conservative Syria. The formula for doing music videos seems to have transplanted itself easily in the Middle East and N. Africa. I wonder if Iran allows people to watch this Middle Eastern channel!

On Sunday we learned about the invasion of a Greek Catholic church in Baghdad. Two priests and lay members inside the church were killed by Iraqi insurgents that were protesting an incident of conflict in Egypt between Muslims and Coptic Christians. Christians in the Middle East follow these stories very closely & are deeply moved because there is a very long history of sudden uprisings, massacres, and violent incidents against Christians in multiple nations in this region. (One student at NEST knew both of the priests who were murdered.)

The ride back on Monday through the mountains of Syria and Lebanon was spectacular, but we felt we had barely scratched the surface of old & modern Damascus. The border crossings from Syria to Lebanon involved our Lebanese driver giving various tips and gratuities to government employees to get us through all the checkpoints. Syria has a hidden exit fee they charge even to persons with all the right visas, so we paid that and moved on. 

When we returned to Beirut things were warm, sunny, and much more humid than dry, cool Damascus. I look forward to visiting Aleppo soon, Syria's most populous city that has its largest Christian community.