Chapter Five: Tourist in a Strange Land
I've had two great days back in Cairo to wrap up my trip. Yesterday (Sunday) morning I went back to Old Cairo, to the Coptic section of town, and went to a mass at what's known as the Hanging Church, because it was built hanging over another ancient edifice. Formally, I believe it's called St. Mary's. They didn't want me to come in during the service, but I'd arrived just as it started and I indicated that I wanted to pray, so they let me in. There was a great deal of chanting, much congregational chanting of responses and singing - about 100 people in attendance, I'd say - and it really was pretty lovely to be there. I made out that the congregational response at one point was "kyrie eleison" ("Lord have mercy"), repeated after what I guessed was a series of petitions, but otherwise I couldn't really follow what was going on. Everything the priests do is behind a wall, with only a doorway offering a partial view, so it was tough to see what was happening. And I knew the language would be completely impenetrable, but I expected to hear something sounding like "Jesus" once in a while, but nothing ever seemed to come close. It was a mystery, to say the least. The highlight was when the three old men I'd been seated with suddenly turned to me and, holding their hands together pointing out, kissed their thumbs and then put my hands between theirs - we were passing the peace! I did my best to follow suit - it was great. I stayed for about an hour, and when it seemed that most people were leaving, I thanked the "usher" (the man guarding the door from other tourists like me) and left - only to hear more singing break out, accompanied by finger cymbals! Oh well.
Then I met up with my friend Jim and we spent the next day and a half as tourists - first the Egyptian Museum, with some amazing stuff, ancient objects presented formally, many others just strewn about - a really touching 5000-year-old small sculpture of a family of four, the parents seated, with one child standing on either side of their parents' legs, mom with her arm around dad's shoulders. Great stuff. In the evening we went for a sail on the Nile in a felucca, a small sailboat - Ahmed was our captain - one shot of him steering us is included - it was lovely to watch the light change and just float on the river for a bit. Then today we got up and went to the pyramids - hence the shots now added - then down to Sakkara to see the step pyramid of Zoser, the forerunner of the more famous ones - then to the Khan Khalily, the marketplace, to do some bargaining, and then this evening over to Zamalek (a rather fancy section of town on the northern tip of an island in the middle of the Nile) where we wandered into the Gezira Art Center to see a fabulous collection of pottery - the 11th century hand grenades (that's what the label called them, really!) were a highlight, but the best thing may have been the floor-to-ceiling tiled fireplaces in each of the rooms.
It has been an overwhelming and wonderful journey. Despite the title above, I never made it to Jordan, but I'll let the title stand since it was part of the plan. I have no profound concluding thoughts, just to say how grateful I am to have had this opportunity. I look forward to developing a pilgrimage plan to bring others to this part of the world, to these holy places.
Chapter Four: Pilgrim Thoughts
Up at the crack of dawn today for a 6:30am service of morning prayers at St. James Cathedral (Armenian Orthodox) - silly me, I thought it was the same James of my parish, but no, this is James of Jerusalem, brother of Jesus and the one who settled the dispute between Peter and Paul as recorded in the Book of Acts. In any case, the guidebook was correct that the service consisted of much "toing and froing," and a choir of young monks chanted lustily - but I was the only other person there, and despite hundreds of lamps hanging from the ceiling the only light came from the windows of the dome high above. It was a tad gloomy - not quite the rousing wake-up call I'd expected. Then I ducked into the heart of the Old City - at that hour, no one was around and it was easy to navigate the normally-mobbed streets, especially in the Muslim Quarter. There I made my way to the Franciscan Chapel of the Flagellation, the first stop on the Via Dolorosa, the walk of the fourteen stations of the cross, from Jesus' condemnation to his death and resurrection. It's a short walk, less than half a mile, and it goes from beauty to Basti Pizza to doorways on obscure side streets and finally into the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in only a few steps. Once I dodged a dolorous (pun intended) Spanish group that were taking turns carrying a small wooden cross, I found it to be a confusing and profoundly spiritual event. The Franciscans standardized this route sometime in the Middle Ages, but folks have argued about what happened where from the very beginning. That seems only right to me.
Because as I pondered my experience in Jerusalem while I made my way back to Taba on the Sinai peninsula this afternoon, and as I talked about it with the Ostrowskis at dinner tonight, I realized that it is important to acknowledge the disappointments of this pilgrimage as well as its joys. There are two major elements to my disappointment: on the Christian side, the emphasis of the Via Dolorosa and the Church of the Holy Sepulchre seems to me to be on the crucifixion, rather to the exclusion of the resurrection. Thus many of my fellow pilgrims, and even the institutions here that welcome them, seem to emphasize the human and suffering Christ without taking that to the next - and to me, more important - step, which is how God turned that suffering to resurrection, redeemed sadness with hope and love. To enter Jesus' tomb - and again, it doesn't matter if it's the right one, only that there is one, that it concretely exists and this piece of rock is as good for marking it as any other - to enter that tomb is to face human suffering and death, and Christ's suffering and death, to be sure, but it is also to experience the joy of God's participation in our suffering and death and God's promise that there is more, there is hope, there is still life. And to come out of that little structure into a church that has no music, no light, no joy, is to be disappointed. The redeeming moment for me came in the Franciscan chapel in the Holy Sepulchre, a modern construction with a stunning set of small modern bronze/steel sculptures depicting the fourteen stations all in a line along one wall, but the entry area is dominated by a much larger sculpture, by the same artist, depicting the resurrection. And the monk who sits by the door smiles when you enter!
The other disappointment is broader, and comes in contrast to my experience in Santiago de Compostela, the pilgrimage to St. James. There, you arrive in a city of joy, a city that seems to revel in being a place so many people want to get to. In Jerusalem, you arrive in a place that is about sadness and anger and tension as much as about the hope we find in faith. People look at you with suspicion more often than welcome, the tension in the air is palpable, the juxtapositioning of three great faiths is fraught rather than celebrated, and it changes - it does not diminish, it changes the pilgrim experience. Too many churches are only open for brief periods, no synagogue welcomed me in, the Al Aqsa Mosque and the Dome of the Rock are forbidden to non-Muslims - there is little sense that the people here share the joy of those who have journeyed long to get here. Perhaps this mix of joy and disappointment is actually more real, a more profound experience of the divine mingled with our human failings. I don't know, those are just my first thoughts. Tomorrow it is back to Cairo to spend a couple days on ancient Egypt and let these wandering ponderings roam.
Chapter Three: Many Faiths
Again, just a brief note until I have more time - but today I spent the morning on the Temple Mount, the hill believed by three faiths to be the foundation of the world - where Adam was created, where Abraham almost sacrificed his son, where the first and second Temples were built (the only remnant of the second is the Wailing Wall), where Jesus overturned the tables of the moneychangers, where Mohammed is believed to have flown one night (the isra) to be taken up briefly into heaven with Allah - this is one holy spot. With the Wailing Wall down below, everything up here now is Muslim - with the Dome of the Rock being the most famous structure. It is tranquil and beautiful and spiritually powerful. Then, after lunch outside Jerusalem with some helpful people, I walked to the checkpoint to cross into the Palestinian territory of the West Bank - a most unnerving procedure - to go into Bethlehem. There I visited the Church of the Nativity, marking the spot determined in the fourth century to have been where Christ was born in a stable. To have been in the same place as the Holy Family - whether precisely or not doesn't really matter - what a powerful experience. It has been another overwhelming day. New pictures have been added!
Chapter Two: A Pilgrim Yet Again
More details later - suffice to say that I made it across the border into Israel yesterday morning with some trepidation, and arrived in Jerusalem by early afternoon. Immediately headed to the Old City, and got lost several times enjoying its confusing narrow lanes and market streets - but I prayed at the Wailing Wall, and I prayed at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, I touched the Wall, I touched the rock of Golgotha and knelt where Christ's tomb was and I finally remembered that this is not just a research trip, I am on pilgrimage. It was a very powerful and moving day. See the photos!
Chapter One: Watch What You Eat!
I arrived in Cairo, after a tantalizing but ultimately boring layover in Rome, on Friday afternoon. Unfortunately, my luggage was unable to accompany me. Nonetheless, my friend Mar-Jan Ostrowski met me at the airport, and I got a firsthand view of Cairo traffic - a truly amazing display of anarchy. He gave me the scenic tour, right through the heart of the city - minarets everywhere, pyramids in the distance, and the Nile! Oh my, the Nile. It is a strange land I have come to. Got settled in my hotel, and then had dinner with Mar-Jan and four-year-old Alastair - what a sweetie. Vicki had to stay home with new baby Victoria, who was teething and rather fussy.
On Saturday Mar-Jan devoted the day to giving me a whirlwind tour. First to Old Cairo - a walled-in section of the city that has the oldest Coptic churches and a ninth-century synagogue. They were celebrating mass at the Church of St. Barbara (her father beat her to death when she tried to convert him to Christianity - don't you love those uplifting old saints' tales?), and I lit a candle to St. George at his church. Just walking through the twisty narrow lanes was an experience. Then we came to the Ben Ezra Synagogue, a beautiful place with stunning woodwork all over the interior. Outside there is a spring - barely more than a pipe with a cover, and a few reeds growing next to it - that is claimed to be where Moses was discovered by Pharoah's daughter in the bullrushes. Why not? And the Church of St. Sergius is supposed to be where the Holy Family lived during their time in Egypt, when they had to flee Herod with the infant Jesus. Again, why not? Historical authenticity has never counted for much to me when it comes to marking a place as holy.
Then we were thirsty, so we drove over to Mar-Jan's golf club to have a Coke - and the club just happens to be at the base of the pyramids! Wow. I'll come back to them at the end of my trip, but what a great way to see them.
Then it was off to the section known as Islamic Cairo - no more Islamic than any other part, but it does have a preponderance of mosques, so perhaps that's the source of its name. We walked through a market area first - teeming with people selling all manner of things, so crowded you can barely walk. We went through the famous tent-makers alley, which has looked the same for hundreds of years. We stopped in a mosque, not even sure of its name, that Mar-Jan really loves - took a look around, and then walked up the narrow stairs to the top of its minaret - just in time to hear the 1:00pm call to prayer. From where we were, we could hear the call coming from dozens of minarets, all in chorus - it was a very moving experience. And the view! Next we went to the Citadel, the fortress and palace of Salah al-Din (Saladin) on top of a hill overlooking the city - entire lower portion of the mosque built there by 18th-century rulers is alabaster. Then a cab that circled us back around the city, dropped us to walk through more twisting streets and into the Khan, the best-known marketplace, filled primarily with jewelers and tourists - lunch at the Naghib Mahfouz Cafe, and then off to see a couple more mosques and finally back to my hotel. Brief respite, and then the whole family picked me up and we went to their pool club for a swim and dinner - a lovely end to the day. On the way home from there we stopped at a mall so I could buy a couple cheap articles of clothing so we could still leave for the Sinai the next day - only to discover that my bag had arrived at my hotel while we were at dinner! Now things seemed to be turning my way.
Then I woke up in the middle of the night with a hideous case of what I will delicately term "Pharaoh's revenge" - Mar-Jan had warned me about food issues, but so it goes. We tried to leave in the morning nonetheless - me fortified with anti-bacterial drugs - but it was no go. Instead, I spent most of two days in bed. But it's off to the Sinai peninsula next!
This is an extraordinary place, with enormously friendly and helpful people - so far the only word I can consistently employ is "sho-kran," which means "thank you," and that seems to be enough to get a smile out of anyone. Having a ball despite my difficulties, more to report soon!
