Friday Findings

      The simple act of sitting beside me and patting my arm in morning mass warmed my heart as Faten let me know that I was no longer the total stranger to "our" Cathedral community that I had felt just weeks ago. No, we could not participate in the mass itself, being Mennonite, but still we are welcomed to the service that begins at 7:30 and ends sometime around 9:30.  I say "sometime" as time always seem flexible here.

    As it was Friday, the day of worship here throughout the city, we decided, after worship and breakfast here, to walk to St. George's Cathedral, eight blocks away. We had heard of its beauty, and sure enough, we found it open and were immediately invited inside. The interior was decorated with Coptic crosses from the benches, to walls, to windows (as shown below).      As the courtyard was walled off, this was the best I could do to get a shot of St. George and the Dragon.






What surprised me most, however, was to meet an aged Sister from my English class in the courtyard. She had come from across the Suez seeking help from Father Shenouda for a young woman. As we embraced warmly and she confided her troubles, several lovely young women looked on and then wanted to have their pictures taken with me. Had I not been speaking to the woman they knew, this would hardly have happened.
   
                                           
     Continuing on our walk, we happened upon several rows of old houses left over from the time of the French being here to build the Canal. They stand in contrast to the current less interesting high-rise apartments, seen in the back. I would love to have seen the city fifty years ago!

     Soon after that, a man approached us asking if we spoke German. His face lit right up to discover that yes, I did, after a fashion. His German was lovely and I was equally delighted to find that I understood most of what he said. Connected me right back to my Amish roots!  He had lived and studied in Germany 22 years ago, and so much wanted to speak German again. He also has a brother in the U.S. I wished we'd taken his number before he disappeared!

     Walking several blocks further, we were spotted by a young dentist who attends services at our Cathedral. He bounded over with a loaf of communion bread in his hands, asking if we had had some bread and wondering why we weren't in the service.  I was surprised he had "missed" us, and we assured him that we had been there for a while. Right there on the sidewalk he made sure we each broke off some pieces of bread. Can't quite imagine this scene in the U.S., and we felt blessed once again.
     I think this is the first time David and I walked downtown a ways and met people we knew. We felt reassured that in this city we are on our way to knowing and becoming known.
   

Epiphanies

A glimpse inside the Cathedral where we are

Long in the forming, suddenly arriving

like Jesus, like the Wise Men,

like our slow struggle to understand

the ins and outs of the feasts and fasts,

the words and happenings of this place.

This mass is for all, while the next one is for friends and family

of someone who died last year, or 40 days ago, or ….. how were we to know

when we walked down 100 steps to attend worship in this place,

that this mass was in the small chapel entered without shoes.

Next Friday, their Sunday, we’ll get it right and go at seven.

What was all that blaring of alarms and megaphones on the street below

when all I wanted was a quiet afternoon nap before facing my first evening class?

Security forces were blocking off streets surrounding the church and our building,

 telling owners to move their cars lest some bad element would decide to blow up the church,

not an uncommon event in other parts of the country under the previous president.

(eighty-five churches attacked in other places, we were told)

After all, January 18 night was the mass of Epiphany, followed by a feast in the wee hours

To which our neighbor priest invited us, the one who speaks English and leads the mass

in the rarely spoken Coptic tongue, who teaches Latin and Greek,

who plays keyboard and strums the oud, who left his veterinary practice

for the joy of praying the mass, and serving the Lord.

The next day, in the afternoon at three, another feast with the black-robed fathers,

and their lovely well-dressed wives (the dentist, the pharmacist, the lover of orphans)

aged sisters, and younger sisters caring for the mentally challenged of Good Shepherd Home

and the fatherless at Holy Family center, where they learn to make yoghurt, and fresh white cheese.

They too came to shake our hands and welcome us.

In the courtyard, before the feast, children and adults chomped on sugar cane;

 later its sweet juice appeared on our table, along with a lovely soup made from

a tuber grown in the water---foods for Epiphany—but not yet revealed to us why…

The following day was the twelfth day of the month on the Coptic calendar.

On this 12^th day, each month, the archangel Michael is honored,

and the bishop made sure we got our share of date-filled biscuits

 stamped with the angel’s image---how sweet it was…

In these feasts and traditions, both amazing and daunting,

We are honored to be included, and we find that beneath the

black robes of the priests, the dark dresses of the sisters,

 and the modern attire of wives and children, there are caring hearts,

a community that embraces  faith and welcomes us as we enter into their places.

We open our hearts to more epiphanies

 as we seek to understand their words and their ways.

Suez sights

We rode this ferry across the canal to Port Fouad the other evening around sunset. The ferry system is free  and carries cars and foot passengers for the 10 minute ride across the canal. Ferries are constantly coming and going except when a large ship passes through the channel.

About midway across, we saw the sunset just to the left of this lovely building most often pictured on websites of Port Said. It is the Suez Canal Office, originally built in 1893.

As the ferry neared the dock in Port Fouad,
this imposing mosque, called
The Grand Mosque, stood to greet us.

Here you can see both the upper and lower walkways by the canal where we love to stroll and observe what might be new on the canal in the morning.
It is one of our windows to the world---where we go Ahh--after passing through streets hemmed in by tall apartment buildings --

Yesterday morning we were greeted by this huge cruise ship and all the horse and buggy men out to entice the tourists fresh off the Balmoral, which left Southampton, England on Jan. 4 and is headed for South Korea and Japan, with many stops along the way to warm the cold-weary Brits. for 85 days. The one couple we talked to were quite delighted with all the sunshine.

This morning it was a  large pink cargo ship named the Blumenau from Liberia.

Truly this canal offers a lot to the imagination, connecting the history of Egypt with England, France, and Israel in their various skirmishes over ownership.  And until now, connecting this city and country to the world economy.

Welcome Little Lavena

“Welcome Little Lavena”

Seven-thirty last Thursday was the time David and I were told the welcome party for two-week-old Lavena  was to begin. This baby is the first niece of the young man who has helped us get settled and is now arranging our teaching schedule. When we went down to the first floor of our building, into the meeting room, we found the round tables set up with gold tablecloths to accent the orange chairs. One of the grandfathers was still putting up large purple cut-out letters spelling “Welcome Lavena” on the wall, but he soon came over and greeted us warmly, as did the other grandfather.

            A steady stream of friends, family, colleagues—Muslim and Christian---came through the doors and found seats. Most of the guests were women except for males in the family, and other young couples and children. We were wondering who would sit at our table. As it turned out, one of the grandfathers sat with us. Chairs kept disappearing from our table as acquaintances sought out each other, most likely feeling their English inadequate to converse with strangers.

. 

After the place was filled with nearly 100 guests, the proud parents arrived with their sleeping pink bundle in a pink valentine-shaped box. Lively Arabic  music, along with “Mary did you Know,” played in the background. Several youth dressed up in an oversized pink bunny suit, and a brown bear with coveralls wandered among the crowd to give a festive air, along with colorful balloons. The couple went from table to table so folks could ooh and aah over the baby and tuck envelopes (I assume money) into the box. I did not know that tradition, so went out and bought a gift of Johnson’s baby products in a nearby pharmacy. I think that was OK too. Guests were served small plates of freshly roasted peanuts and tea.  When I started taking pictures of Lavena and her parents, other family members came up to have their pictures taken with us!

          

Small candles sporting pink butterflies were then handed out and lit as other lights were dimmed. Someone started up a chant of blessing that was repeated as a single-line procession formed behind the mother and baby that looped around and among the tables. More envelopes were thrust into the box. Finally, when the procession ended, people began to leave as the hosts handed out decorative pink bags with peanuts, chocolate, and little glass bears.

I think the evening was more memorable for us than for little Lavena.

Our Neighborhood

The door into the language center and apartment where we live on one side of the church. We are so fortunate to have wonderful places like the following to walk to. No, we don't miss driving a car.

What we see when we step onto the street from the door above. Port Said is full of tall and densely situated apartment buildings like these.
Many have shops on the first floor that sell everything from clothing to household goods, to hardware, to cars, food, and about everything else you can think of.

The Suez Canal is only a ten-minute brisk walk east from our building. We love to go there and walk on the "Kornish" when the bright morning sun or muted evening rays make everything look beautiful.

We felt downright at home when we found the street market about a five minute walk to our south. We eat lots of delicious cucumbers like these in the foreground and now understand why the Israelites missed the cucumbers of Egypt as they wandered in the desert. (Numbers 11)

Mosques with lovely architecture are simply all around, and each has their distinctive form. We hear the calls to prayer every day between 2 and 3:00, and then around 5-6:00 p.m, and David hears the 5:15 a.m. call. Some Imams have a quite pleasing oratorical voice. They are simply a part of the sounds of life here and they do not bother us.

The Mediterranean Sea is only a 10-15 minute walk to the north. It is lovely and quiet to walk there this time of year when the wind blows a bit cool and there are no tourists yet. Many shells dot the sand, but we've hardly seen shore birds.

Horses and carriages like this wait for tourists near the big tourist hotel not far away. They always have green things in the front of the carriage for the horse to eat.


Port Said lighthouse is the only original structure left in the city and sits by the Suez Canal.

January 6--a Coptic Christmas

A tall young cedar sways in the wind outside our fifth floor window

     like the skirts of  Muslim women walking in the streets below.

Sand swirls in strong gusts from the chilly west, finding every crevice not secured.

Only foreigners wanting a walk would venture out today,

     Or workers building brick pillars around the nearby park,

     Or black-clad policemen blaring announcements from a motorcade

      demanding respect for the Coptic Christians meeting to celebrate their Christmas today.

After dark, young and old fill Cathedral seats and back halls,

     on this most celebrated day of the year.

Young women sport new dark or light winter clothes, high heels, and short skirts, 

     with dyed or natural hair in the latest style,

contrasting with the "abunas'' long black robes  and slow chants of centuries old tradition.

When midnight comes and most have gone home to their family feasts,

     we drive with Father Rewis and his wife to the ferry trolling a short trip to Port Fuad.

There, we join with other fathers and their wives, and a host of Sisters in gray and brown habits

     to break the fast with the orphans, the elderly, and the disabled in a great white hall
     brightened with balloons of every color.
Tables for more than 175 are set with ceramic bowls, plates, glasses,
     and silverware on plain white tablecloths.
We, the foreigners, want to sit among the crowd to participate
     and observe in our own quiet way.

But that is not to be.

Egyptian hospitality style, we are ushered right up to the long table in front,
Everyone waits, then all stand as the revered Bishop Tadros walks down the aisle to our table
     where David sits beside this host of the feast, the Bishop of Port Said, who learned
     his excellent English from seven years of engineering study in Los Angeles.

And I, not knowing protocal, sit mute beside an Egyptian gentleman on my left,
while Sister Monica serves up bowls of hot orzo in rich chicken broth, and offers us
      plates of hot breaded chicken, baked chicken,stewed chicken, rice with chicken,
      crepes with chickpeas and other veggies, pieces of mutton, a salad plate with fresh lettuce,                   peppers, carrots, and tomatoes, individual bowls of fresh yogurt made by the sisters
      who work there in the home for the orphans and the disabled,

Finally, my neighbor asks me in good English where we are from.
And I find out he owns his own airline company and has his family in Switzerland,
     but spends four winter months in Port Fuad for his health. Hmmm...
Why have I waited so long to have a decent conversation in English?

After the feasting, Bishop Tadros makes his way to the back, near the door.
All rise and excited children are herded into lines,
     while the adults follow more slowly.
The young receive 5 or 10 Egyptian pounds, and all, including the foreigners,
     receive a small bag of chocolates, the Christmas gift of tradition.

While the food is good, and the people are gracious, I will always remember
     how one disabled girl, fallen to the floor, is lifted by the hands of women around her,
     How one particular sweet-faced sister not only lifts, but kisses and caresses
     all the troubles away.

As unto the least.  As unto the Lord...

     

A Coptic Orthodox New Year

        Our first Egyptian Orthodox New Year service at the spectacular Cathedral of Port Said (built in 1934 by Greek architects) was memorable. We asked our next door neighbors, Father Rewis and his wife if we could accompany them, and they graciously welcomed us. We exited our apartments around 11:40 p.m. and took the elevator from our fifth floor apartments to the ground floor, where we took a shortcut from our building through a brief corridor to the side entrance of the Cathedral.

The inside of the highly vaulted cathedral has a distinctly Mediterranean look, with its warm pinkish earth color and types of architecture. We need a tour on another day to help us understand all the symbolism and iconography of this once Catholic Cathedral that was sold to the Coptic Christians some years after the British and French left Port Said (1956).   Since my Arabic is practically nil, I can only describe what we observed during the service of more than two hours.

     While Father Rewis went to the front to receive worshipers and prepare to participate in the rituals along with other priests, his wife ushered us into a back row seat on the men’s side. The men sat on the left, facing the altar, while the women sat on the right. Unlike Catholic cathedrals which have seats going front to back in short widths, this one had the seats extend across the length with several aisles between. The altar is in the middle of what we would normally consider the side of the cathedral, on the east, while the Catholic altar is in the south end, the domed end of the cathedral.  On special occasions, local Catholics are still welcome to use the Cathedral.

     The central altar that recesses into a kind of alcove was where most of the movement  took place—a sort of round robin of priests taking turns chanting solo, reading from Scripture, leading the congregants in numerous chants of Kyrie Eleison, spreading incense, clanging cymbals, and other liturgical exercises. Children were free to go to their fathers serving up front, and some adults wandered in and out of the service. Some of the chants and Scripture readings appeared on two screens up front so congregants could follow. After initial chants and prayers, the cantors and novitiates went to a side corner where they donned white robes and red sashes before returning to the front to continue their exercises in worship.

     At around 1:40 a.m., members went up front to partake of the Eucharist—consecrated bread, but no wine. Grape juice is served during normal mass, but not on New Years. Most of the women donned a scarf before partaking, and both men and women took off their shoes to tread the holy path to communion. Afterwards, a priest sallied forth, scattering holy water over the congregants. With this final act of celebration, the leftover bread was given out to whoever was nearby, whether they were Coptic or not, and that included us!

     Throughout the service, it was the variety of voices and cadences in the chanting that fascinated me most. Sometimes I could have closed my eyes and thought I was hearing the cadences of Amish plainsong, or the sing-song chant of some Amish preachers I’d heard in my youth. I have a similar sensation at times when hearing the chanting of prayers from nearby mosques. While each of these groups have real differences, I had to wonder whether these chant forms came from periods of both gratitude to God, and intense longing for God’s  intervention in the lives of struggling creation.