Watery Thoughts

The gospel of the Samaritan Woman gives us some beautiful insights into the use of water in the rite of the liturgy.

 

The Samaritan Woman met Jesus at the well, as we also meet Him at the Church. He asks us to draw water for Him as He asked her, but what is the water we draw?

 

It begins with the washing of the hands by the priest. The deacon, representing the congregation (for he is their servant) takes the jug of water which he has previously filled and pours it out on the hands of the priest at the beginning of the Offertory. The fact that he has previously filled the jug indicates that he has come to Church prepared to meet Christ and to serve Him.

 

The deacon’s act of pouring the water assists the priest in his preparation for offering the Body and Blood. Thus, the deacon, like the Samaritan Woman, is the conduit by which many come to meet with Christ. This is symbolic of the role that each Christian should play in the world. The Christian can do little by himself, but by doing small acts of service, he can help open the way for Christ to enter people’s hearts.

 

There is a small bottle of water placed on the altar, together with the bottle of wine. These two are mixed in the cup by the priest as he prays the Prayer of Thanksgiving. Water is simple while wine is chemically complex. Perhaps this mixing can also remind us that our simple thoughts and ideas and efforts, when mixed with the work of Christ, can become an important part of the process of our salvation, and even that of others.

 

We see ourselves in the Samaritan Woman:

  • Like her, we interact with Jesus through the discussion about drawing water.
  • Like her, we get to know Him, and discover just how well He knows us.
  • Like her, our lives are changed through this dialogue.
  • And like her, we share this amazing Person with our relatives and friends.

 

These acts occur early in the liturgy. Sadly, the Church is usually relatively empty at that time as people drift in late. What a pity that they miss this important experience! Those who do come early get to have this personal meeting with Christ; a great foundation for fully experiencing the prayers that follow.

Looking Up

"The Holies for the holy"
"The Holies for the holy"

Following on from the interest shown in learning more about the meaning of the liturgy, I’ve dug out a little passage from my own little personal book of contemplations. It refers to the part at the end of the liturgy where the priest has finished dividing the Body into smaller pieces and lifts the paten high twice before he takes it away from the altar to give Communion to the congregation:

 

From facing the altar, the priest turns around and raises the paten twice towards the congregation, saying “The Holies for the holy”, and the people respond, “Blessed is He who comes in the Name of the Lord”.

This is an announcement to all that this is indeed the Holy Body of Christ. We are reminded, as we were during the last part of the prayers, that those who wish to partake of the Holy Body and Blood must themselves be holy. As the priest holds the Holy Body high, our eyes are drawn upward in longing and desire to be made worthy to share in this Heavenly Feast. But we know that we can never make ourselves worthy of such a privilege, so our upward gaze is also a prayer, a request, a supplication:

Unto You I lift up my eyes, O You who dwell in the heavens.
Behold, as the eyes of servants look to the hand of their masters,
As the eyes of a maid to the hand of her mistress,
So our eyes look to the LORD our God, Until He has mercy on us.

Psalm 123

 But it is also a reminder of the Second Coming, hence the two raisings of the paten. Christ is raised high in the air, since He shall come back “as the lightning flashes from the East to the west”. At His first coming, many refused to say, “Blessed is He who comes in the Name of the Lord”, but we now affirm that we are ready to receive Him by saying those very words. Then we are all gathered to Him as we approach for Holy Communion, as all peoples will be gathered to Him on the last day. We then receive Him so He dwells in us and we in Him. Thus do we taste the Kingdom of Heaven while we are yet on earth.

  But let all those who approach Communion make sure they are prepared, for the unprepared wedding guest was cast out, and there will be those on the last day who will approach Him, only to find themselves thrust to His left hand side.

 

I will try to share a few more of these contemplations over the coming months, and I would love to hear your own contemplations on your favourite bits of the liturgy.

 Fr Ant

Fast or Slow … er

 

 

Regular readers of this blog may have noticed that the Liturgy is one of my favourite topics. That’s probably because the liturgy is actually one of my favourite things in life. I hope you won’t feel offended, but during most of the liturgy I do my level best to pretend you’re not there. The most profoundly moving experiences I have had during a liturgy all happened when I had forgotten that there was anyone else in the Church apart from me and the crucified Lord of the universe on the altar.

What a feeling!

The heart and soul are laid bare before the all-piercing gaze of the Creator Incarnate. There is no hiding, neither from Him, nor from myself. My carefully constructed facades crumble away and all those comfortable little lies with which I’ve been salving my conscience evaporate into the air, an air reverberating with the awful words of what He did for me. Who could resist being touched to the depths of their soul?

And yet, I do remember a time in my youth when the liturgy was anything BUT engrossing. I recall liturgies (mostly in Arabic) as a teenager where the main focus of my contemplation was the pain in my feet and back, and whether some old ‘ummo would get me in trouble if I sat down just now. One of the first things I memorised about the liturgy was exactly when we got to bow down; eagerly anticipated moments!

It took a long time to get into the Coptic Liturgy. It also took a degree of effort on my part: asking questions and reading books. One book that was a turning point for me in my experience of the liturgy was Christ in the Eucharist by Fr Tadros Yacoub Malaty (you can download this book from www.coepa.org). I consider this book one of the true classics of modern Coptic literature and one that will withstand the test of time. In it, Fr Tadros traces the symbolism and Biblical references of the words and the rites and rubrics of the liturgy. Abounding in ancient quotes from the Fathers of the Church, he explains this divinely inspired rite from a surprisingly personal perspective that serves to help open the flood gates of individual prayer in response to the ancient text and tunes of the liturgy.

I have never looked back since reading that book. My love for the liturgy certainly took on a new dimension when I was ordained a priest, but those earlier quiet, private spiritual epiphanies are forever engraved upon my memory. Which leads me mourn the fact that there still remain people in our congregation for whom the liturgy is a chore or duty, or even merely an act of mere habit.

 I enjoyed reading the comments people posted to my last blog. There is always a variety of views on the liturgy, and how it could be ‘done’ better. No doubt we can do it better, and I agree that participation by the congregation is the key. The fact remains that in the liturgy book, it says: “CONGREGATION:” All too often the deacons hijack a hymn or response all for themselves, instead of simply leading the congregation. The ideal situation is where the voices of the congregation drown out, or rather, unite harmoniously with, those of the deacons’ choir, so that the two are no longer distinguishable. Those are the moments when one feels the roof of the Church is about to be blasted away by this angelic praising, opening a conduit to unite heaven and earth! OK, I’m waxing a bit lyrical here, but such moments do genuinely make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

 Perhaps more lessons are needed to teach EVERYONE the complex Coptic tunes? Nowadays of course, we are blessed to have sites like www.tasbeha.org where one can find audio of virtually any Coptic tune that ever existed. I believe there are Coptic churches in America now, who have choirs of females singing antiphonically with the deacons, complete with their own ‘tunias’. When I put that suggestion to some of the young ladies to at our Church, they thought it was a horrible idea, but I wonder if that will change with the years?

 I’d be interested in reading your thoughts on how we can get people to participate more fully in the liturgy. Not saying I’ll agree with all of them, but if you come up with something that is likely to work, we might just go ahead and try it!

 Fr Ant

Fast or Slow

 How’s a priest to pray?

 Life is fast these days. Everything we do we seem to do faster than our parents ever did. Just think of all the devices we have at our disposal to speed things up: microwaves warm and cook food faster; televisions that can fast forward through advertisements; remote controls so you can change the channel/volume faster (no need to get up); electrical shavers so you can shave faster (not from personal experience of course); electric knives and mixers and bread makers and toasters in the kitchen to make food preparation faster; drive thru’s for those who don’t even want to waste any time cooking … the list goes on.

That’s all very well, and we could argue whether all these conveniences have really improved the quality of our lives or not another day, perhaps. But for now I just want to know: how’s a priest to pray? OK, here’s the dilemma: Sunday morning liturgy. The main prayer of the week. The focus of all our spiritual lives. The unique experience of being united with Christ. Should I pray slowly and contemplatively, in order that we all can make the most of this very special time, or should I pray more rapidly because people just don’t have the time or the patience anymore?

I have heard differing views on this point from a variety of people, all of whom are both sensible and sincere. On the one hand there are those who insist that the Church must keep up with the times. It is unfair, they point out, to expect people who are used to everything in life going briskly and efficiently, to come to Church on Sunday and listen patiently to the word “amen” being pronounced with 167 intonated syllables over two minutes. Just say it, and get on to the next part. And there is no place in the modern Church for long, undulating tunes in incomprehensible Coptic. (I have even heard ancient hymns like “Rejoice O Mary” sung in English, but with the tune so condensed that the whole four verses of lyrics are squashed into just one verse of tune. Perhaps we should call this fast food hymns … McAlhan!)

These days, people have other things to do on a Sunday, so let’s just have a nice snappy liturgy so everyone can go and get on with their lives. The famous Fr Bishoy Kamel who served some years as a parish priest in the USA once pointed out that he who makes the congregation become bored in the liturgy commits a great sin. Apparently, he always prayed at one pace, whatever the situation, and it was a moderately brisk, moderately contemplative pace.

And then, on the other hand, there are others who insist that our ancient tradition should not be watered down after 19 centuries of careful preservation. And isn’t Sunday the Lord’s Day? And according to the Ten Commandments, should not the Lord’s Day be devoted entirely to the Lord? Then why quibble over the length of the liturgy? What else is more important than spending just one day a week together with God and with each other?

 The long tunes of the Coptic tradition were meant to allow time for deep meditation upon the words they carry. We sing them in the Church, surrounded by a multitude of icons, the holy sanctuary and altar of the Lord, and in the very, physical presence of the Lord Christ Himself upon that altar. At the end of the liturgy we go forward to receive Him for ourselves in Communion. How can anyone want to rush this experience? We should enjoy it, lose ourselves in the moment, savour it as one savours the sweet taste of rich ice cream (oops – it’s Lent! Sorry). What does it say about our priorities in life when our attitude to the liturgy is “when will it finish”?

Do you understand the difficult conundrum that must be resolved by each priest and his deacons every Sunday? I must confess I can see some sense in both views. I hate praying by the clock (would you look at your watch if you were sitting with Jesus?) and yet, I feel the responsibility to finish the service at the advertised time. Even though I might personally lean towards the longer, slower point of view, I can also see that there are many people today who find it genuinely hard to maintain concentration for two or three hours straight.

Perhaps the answer is to take the middle path, much as Fr Bishoy did.

Fr Ant

The Art of Uncertainty

 

 

“It is better to be silent and be suspected of being a fool,

than to speak, and remove any doubt.”

 

I don’t remember where I came across that little gem, but it carries a useful message. How often have you been involved in a discussion with someone who is absolutely certain about something, and you are equally certain that they’re wrong? You try to convince them. You call upon logic; you appeal to evidence; you cite witnesses; you plead for common sense, but nothing seems able to shake that rock solid (mistaken) confidence. Arghhhh!!!!

 There are situations in life where it can be quite dangerous to be certain and wrong at the same time, and then there are situations where it hardly matters anyway. Does it really matter if my friend is convinced that George Washington was the first Prime Minister of Australia? It may be frustrating; it may betray a certain lack of patriotism, but in the big scheme of the universe, it makes very little difference to anyone.

 Then again, a doctor learns very quickly how dangerous being overconfident in your opinion can be. To continue to believe in a diagnosis that is wrong could harm a patient, or in extreme cases, kill them. That is why doctors (the good ones, anyway) work very hard to train themselves in the art of uncertainty.

 A gifted doctor will be able to tell you at any stage of the diagnostic process just how certain s/he is. They may not be able to put a figure on it – “I am 75.492% certain that we are dealing with melanoma here” – but they can usually tell you if they are definitely certain; quite certain with a little room for doubt; leaning towards one diagnosis rather than the other, or quite frankly flummoxed. Knowing one’s degree of certainty influences the therapeutic decisions one takes. Medication may sometimes be given on speculation, such as a case of suspected bacterial meningitis (infection around the brain) where administering antibiotics quickly is crucial and delay could cost lives. In such a situation, one need not wait for test results to improve the degree of certainty. On the other hand, if you’re thinking of administering powerful anti-cancer drugs that are going to cause horrible side effects, you’d better be pretty darn sure you’ve got the diagnosis right!

 Now, there have been those who have tried to tame uncertainty using the whip of mathematics. There are mathematical strategies for putting a number on uncertainty that at least allows you to compare uncertainties, but to use these strategies as if they were completely accurate and infallible would be a mistake. The real world is just far too complicated and involves too many variables for any mathematical model to be more than a mere indication.

 So the art of uncertainty is just that – an art. It is learned through experience: through observation and analysis of one’s mistakes, and the gradual accumulation of this data over many years. It often depends on a degree of informed intuition, rather than being a totally logical process. But I believe it is a very useful tool to have in one’s toolbox of life. Skill in this art will inform all your life decisions and increase your wisdom factor, which usually makes life more comfortable, successful and enjoyable. If nothing else, being skilful in the art of uncertainty will at least limit the number of people whose blood pressure you raise by arguing confidently for that which is false!

 Fr Ant

Height and Humility

 

“Who dwells in the highest and beholds the lowly”  – Anaphora of the Liturgy of St Basil

How incredible to stand before the altar of God (which is His symbolic throne here on earth) and contemplate His true Heavenly Throne. He dwells in the highest of places, His existence is the highest existence, His glory, the highest of glories, and so on. Yet this Being of unimaginable height still cares for a lowly sinner such as I!

One can imagine Zacchaeus the tax collector as he sat perched in the branches of the sycamore tree, trying to glimpse Jesus through the crowd that milled around Him and hid Him from view. Then suddenly, in an instant, a chance configuration of the crowd opens a direct line of sight between him and Jesus. Imagine Zacchaeus’ surprise as he realises that Jesus is looking directly at him! Not only looking, but speaking, taking note of him, acknowledging his existence! Not only that, but actually promising to come and stay in his own house!

“Why me?” you can almost hear him thinking. “Who am I that the Master should choose my house to stay in? I am not important, or popular or rich. I am not a religious leader or even a righteous man. Everyone despises and hates me, and stays away from me. But He wants to stay at my house!”

We too would feel like that if we truly acknowledged our lowliness before God. Every liturgy, the crowd parts, and Jesus is looking directly at YOU. He asks you also, saying, “Today, I would like to stay at your house”. Will you let Him in? Will you free yourself from other commitments? Will you greet Him as Zacchaeus did, with humility and repentance, or will you greet Him as the Pharisee did, with snobbishness and judgment?

It comes back to one thing: do you see yourself as lowly and humble, or as an exalted good and righteous and deserving person? “God resists the proud, but gives grace to the humble” (James 4). If you wish to have Jesus relieve you of your heavy burden, then you must learn from Him, for He is “humble and lowly in heart” (Matthew 11:29). Until I too humble myself before Him and admit my lowliness, I shall never truly experience the full presence and the indescribable glory of the Lord.

The Coptic of this phrase is: Fi-etshop khen ni-etchpsi; owoh etgousht ejen ni-et-theviout. It is one of those phrases in the liturgy where any translation into English fails to do the original meaning full justice.

The word “shop” means to ‘be’, but in a very special way. It mainly means to abide, to be somewhere or simply to be, but it also implies ‘existence’. When used of God in this way, it indicates the theological concept that God IS existence – He is the source of all that exists, and it is He alone who is self-existent; He exists because that is His nature, and not because anyone or anything else causes Him to exist.

The same Coptic word is used in John 8:58: “before Abraham was, I AM [shopi anok pe]”. The “I AM” is usually written in capitals because it was a very clear reference to one of the names of God in the Old Testament. When Moses at the burning bush asked for a name of God to give to the Israelites in Egypt, God told him, “’I AM WHO I AM.’ And He said, ‘Thus you shall say to the children of Israel, “I AM has sent me to you”’” (Exodus 3:14).

Equally beautiful is the word here used for us: ni-et-theviout. The Coptic construction of the word implies far more than is relayed by the English translation, “the lowly”. theviout is an adjectival root that means ‘humble’. But when et comes before it, it comes to mean not that we are humble, but that we have been humbled: it turns the adjective into something that has happened to us or been done to us. Thus, a more accurate translation of this nuance in meaning might be “He that IS, in the highest; and looks upon those who have been humiliated”.

What a beautiful and concise summary of our true state! God is the self-existent Creator who needs nothing. He is not interested in us because we are capable or worthy or strong. He is interested in us most when we are at our weakest, when we are brought low, when we are broken. And this state is one that almost always comes upon us against our own will, for who enjoys being humiliated? Who goes out to seek humiliation on purpose? And yet, it is when we are at our lowest that we are most likely to experience the loving care of God and to feel His presence; to sense that all-encompassing gaze of compassion and care surrounding us and blanketing us with healing and warmth.

And the tune of the Coptic melody brings out this stark contrast of our neediness to God’s powerful compassion beautifully. The melody rises suddenly and dramatically with chosi – ‘highest’; and then it descends rapidly, as if with God’s gaze looking down upon us, to peter out into our lowly humiliation; the last part of theviout.

One imagines a beggar standing at night in a field, looking up at the startling multitude of sparkling gems strewn across the dark velvet backdrop of space and being pierced by its majesty and beauty, and then lowering his gaze once more to behold himself: bedraggled, dirty, torn and bruised from the harsh buffeting of those who despise him.

Such is our state before God.

Fr Ant

A Long, Long Time Ago…

Sure it’s long, but is there any other experience like a Coptic liturgy in this whole world? OK, I’m a bit biased: I admit that. But the more I pray our beautiful liturgy the more does it steal away my heart.

 Here’s a little exercise you might like to try to see a little of what I mean:

 Imagine what it might have been like to have been an Alexandrian Christian in the First Century AD. Most likely, you would not have attended the liturgy in a purpose built church building. It would have been at someone’s house, or in a cave or underground tomb in times of severe persecution. No electricity or microphones – only candles and lamps and the human voices emanating from human hearts and minds; sharing together with their voices he experience of the presence of God among them…

 Before the liturgy, the gathered people would ask someone to read out the beautiful message in the copy of one of the apostolic letters that had reached Alexandria. One of the deacons respectfully pulls out a parchment and excitedly announces that he has gotten hold of a copy of a new letter from Saul of Tarsus, now known as Paul. The gathering murmurs with anticipation – he has quite a reputation, this Paul!

 After absorbing the exhortations of the apostle, the call is made to bring out the group’s chief treasure: a complete parchment of the Gospel left behind by the Apostle Mark, so recently and horribly martyred. A hush falls upon the little gathering as the elder slowly reads out words uttered only a few decades ago from the mouth of God incarnate. At the end of the reading, someone asks a question, and the elder takes a little time to explain, drawing upon all that he eagerly absorbed as he sat at the feet of Mark … in happier times. Then the Eucharist begins.

 Those who have offerings bring them out now, mostly offerings of money or clothing for the poor, or food for the Aghape feast that will follow the Eucharist. The designated deacons collect everything and carefully store it away, but two offerings they place on a special table: bread and wine. The elder prays, blessing the offerings and entreating God to accept them from the humble group. Then he turns to the people and exhorts them to lift up their hearts now to God, in prayer and contemplation. He re-enacts that fateful Supper, uttering the very words spoken by the Lamb of God on His way to being sacrificed for the sins of the world, repeating His very actions in blessing the bread and wine and breaking the bread. He winces as the fibres of bread split apart, thinking of how the fibres of Christ’s muscles tore apart as He was brutally stretched out upon that cross. Mark had been there…

 And now, the re-enactment is finished. They pray for their daily needs from God who gives all good things, and they remember not only the needs of the living, but also the souls of the dead who have departed in the hope of the resurrection. Finally, the elder turns to the people and invite them to come forward one by one to receive this most precious gift of God. They sing a hymn of joy, a hymn of victory, even though they are but a small and persecuted sector of Egyptian society. But they leave behind their worldly troubles and cares as for a few hours they are transported, first back to Palestine in the last hours of the life of the Christ, and then to heaven itself as the Kings of Kings comes to unite with them and to dwell within their bodies and souls.

 This joy they keep within them as they share the Love meal when the prayers are over. It is a joy that sustains them through the harsh reality of their lives, and brings them together as one community, one family, one body. With this joy in their hearts, they say their goodbyes to each other and disperse in little groups and knots to return to their daily lives.

 Can you recognise our liturgy in that little story above? That is exactly what the liturgy is, with a few embellishments and additions. How beautiful the experience becomes when one looks at it through the eyes of the first Church…

 Fr Ant

Christmas … And Second Christmas.

Angela asks how to explain to a three year old why we are celebrating Christmas again – obviously she is discovering the joys of childhood curiosity. Hang in there, Angela: the questions only get harder from here on!

Anyhow, here are a few of my suggestions on handling this delicate situation. Please note that some of them involve the tongue being placed firmly in the cheek. I should point out that my own kids passed the age of three some time ago, so please forgive me if the answers below seem a little rusty. I’ve been dealing with teenage questions for so long I’ve forgotten how nice the simple enquiring mind of a toddler can be…

1. We mucked it up the first time so we thought we’d have another go.

2. I wasn’t happy with my presents so I asked Santa to come back for an exchange.

3. What? You mean it’s only been two weeks and not 12 months???

4. We’re practising counting up to 2.

5. We have our Christmas AFTER the Boxing Day sales so we can get our presents on special.

6. Jesus is SO special He is the only one in the world who gets TWO birthdays every year!

7. There’s Western Christmas and Coptic Christmas because our calendars have gotten a little bit confused. One day we’ll fix them and then we’ll all just celebrate Christmas on together on the same day. Maybe when you’re a grandpa.

Readers should feel free to make up for my poor efforts by contributing their own explanations as a comment.

Fr Ant

PS For those who’d like a more serious explanation for the double Nativity, I will post a detailed paper on the Coptic calendar shortly.

Justice for All

The recent Nag Hammadi murders are yet another sad indication of the deterioration in relations between Egyptian Christians and Muslims. 

While this is not the place for a detailed analysis of Egyptian history, a brief sketch of recent Coptic-Muslim relations may help to bring the recent events into perspective. In the first half of the twentieth century, these relations were perhaps as good as they ever had been. It was a time when Botros Ghali Pasha, a Copt, could rise to the position of Prime Minister of Egypt under Abbas II, the last of the Khedives, from 1908 to 1910. Many Egyptians who lived through this period describe a time when religion was not seen as a barrier to decency and cooperation. Copts and Muslims went to school together, worked together and played together. If religion ever came up, both sides treated the other with respect, respecting each other’s right to worship in their own way without criticism or hindrance. 

Perhaps it was the need to unite as Egyptians against a common enemy, the occupying British, which brought Christians and Muslims closer than has been usual in the long and chequered history of Egyptian religious relations. The famous Egyptian Independence movement lead by Zaghlul Pasha early in the twentieth century counted amongst its chief leaders a number of prominent Copts. But with the revolution of 1952 that brought President Nasser to power (after a short transition under General Naguib), certain trends began that have eventually lead to the sorry state of affairs we see today. Some of these trends are widespread across the Muslim world, while some are specifically Egyptian. 

The new regime sought to shore up its support and protect itself against counter-revolution by making many friends in the Egyptian community. Among these were groups such as the Muslim Brotherhood, a group that has since developed more and more fanatical Muslim leanings and has built a growing base in Egyptian politics, much to the consternation of many. President Sadat learned the hard way how carefully one must choose one’s friends when he cracked down on the Brotherhood, resulting in his assassination by them in 1983. 

While there have been some rays of hope, the story since 1952 has been one of growing oppression for the Copts of Egypt. For example, while Botros Ghali Pasha’s grandson, Botros Botros Ghali, was seen worthy by the world of being the UN Secretary General, in his own country he could only rise to be a Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs, and that for only a few months in 1991on the way to going to the UN. Throughout this period, the number of Copts in the Egyptian Parliament has remained woefully low, and nowhere near reflecting the 10-15% of the population that is Christian. In fairness, President Mubarak did make a significant statement by appointing 4 Copts out of 10 Presidential nominees to the lower house in 2005, but given that there are a total of 454 seats in that house, the gesture could not be more than symbolic. 

A glass ceiling exists in almost every area of life in Egypt, a situation that has contributed strongly to the exodus of Egyptian Copts from Egypt since the late 1960’s. Educated middle class Copts quickly realised that their children would face constant stigmatisation in Egypt because of their faith, and made the great sacrifice of leaving the land that had been their home for over 5,000 years to seek a better life, mostly in the West.

 Then again, the troubles in Egypt are not unique, but are a reflection of the growing trend towards religious extremism in the Muslim world at large today. It is well known that widespread economic problems can lead to a growth in religious extremism. Samuel Huntington, in his prescient 1996 book, “The Clash of Civilisations” put forward the prediction that future global conflicts will not be based on national or ideological differences (like Communism versus Capitalism), but on religious-cultural ones. The lack of understanding between the West and the Muslim world climaxed in the horror of the September 11 attacks in 2001. The reprisals against Afghanistan and Iraq that followed have resulted, not surprisingly, in a closing of ranks among Muslims everywhere against all non-Muslims. Egypt has not been immune from this influence.

 And yet, the toxic atmosphere now prevalent in Egypt is frustratingly unnecessary. Consider for example, what might happen if the tables were turned. Imagine for a moment that we wake up tomorrow to read about a small group of young Coptic men who hop into their cars and fire indiscriminately at worshippers emerging from their prayers at a mosque. What would the reaction of the Coptic community be? How would the Church react?

 I would hope and I believe that the reaction would be one of pretty uniform disgust and denunciation. Copts would talk about those Coptic assassins as if they were heretics or betrayers of the Christian faith. Their friends and relatives would ostracise them and denounce them publicly and privately. The Church would very quickly proclaim that such crimes are the total opposite of what Christ taught us and that by committing such crimes the criminals put themselves in danger of eternal damnation, for their actions can never be acceptable before God. There would be no talk of excusing them on account of the persecution they had endured; no excuses on the basis that they were only sticking up for their fellow Christians and defending their faith; no silence from Church authorities that could be mistaken as tacit approval of what they had done.

 Compare that to what we see in the wake of Nag Hammadi, and what we have seen in other recent spates of violence both in Egypt and in other parts of the world. The September 11 attacks were disturbing indeed, but what I found far more disturbing was the silence that followed from the Muslim world, and from Muslim leaders especially. As I recall, it was months before the first unequivocal official statement emerged from a Muslim cleric anywhere that terrorist attacks are not acceptable to the Muslim faith. Instead, Muslim leaders were appearing on TV with the message: “Yes, of course this is sad, but you must ask yourself what has the West done to Muslims that lead to such an attack?” No doubt, there are many valid grievances that Muslim world has against the West, particularly in the horrible treatment of the Palestinians over the past six decades. But that can never be an excuse for atrocities. If the persecuted turns around and becomes a persecutor, then they are no better than their enemies.

 This stark contrast in responses highlights a basic difference between the two worldviews today. It need not be so. We need only go back fifty or a hundred years to see that Egypt can be a place where Muslims and Copts live together peacefully and harmoniously.  The kind of hypothetical reaction from the Coptic community I have described above is what we would have seen from the Muslim community back then. What was present then, but is missing now, is a sense of decency, fairness and justice in the Muslim community of Egypt.

 There is always the danger in situations like these that outcries by Copts will make little impact on the rest of the world. Of course the Copts will protest; what else would you expect? Tribalism means that people who share a common heritage will always stick together, doesn’t it? And why make such a fuss over 8 people who were killed when in places like Darfur and Indonesia literally thousands are being killed? In the non-Coptic mind, this can subconsciously devalue the voice of Coptic protesters.

 But I believe there is more at stake here.

 In essence, the Nag Hammadi murders and the deeper unrest that they represent in Egypt are an issue not of tribalism, but of justice and equality. The Egyptian Constitution guarantees freedom of religion and equality of all citizens regardless of religious faith, but that is not the reality in the Egypt of today. The American founding fathers were willing to fight and to die for a society of genuine democracy, justice, equality and individual freedom.

 Coptic protests against what has happened in Nag Hammadi are not just about 8 individuals. They are about what is happening to the whole country. They are an attempt to arrest the descent of Egypt back into the medieval distinction of Muslim believers and non-Muslim ‘dhimmis’; second class citizens who are constantly downtrodden and persecuted. All that Copts ask for is to be treated like normal Egyptian citizens. Just as the Muslim Egyptian has the right to pray in peace, to build a place of worship, to be educated and to have a career, to exercise their talents and to partake fully in the civil life of Egypt, so also should the Christian Egyptian.

 The world is rapidly shrinking. Copts in Egypt see a black man become President of the United States: a nation where only a few decades ago in some states, black men were not allowed to use the same toilets or go to the same schools as white men. They ask, why is Egypt still in the dark ages? Why is Egypt still allowing tribalism to dominate her civil agenda? In 2010, when the rest of the world is opening its mind to democracy, tolerance, understanding, cooperation and peaceful coexistence, why is Egypt heading backwards towards a kind of medieval theocracy where the majority constantly put down the minority? Why is the Christian treated so differently to the Muslim today in Egypt?

 While there can be no doubt that the Egyptian government must bear the responsibility for the tone of Egyptian society, one cannot lay all the blame at their feet. To some extent, Egyptians will get the country they deserve. Extremists only emerge in communities where good people turn a blind eye, firstly to small injustices, and eventually to big ones. It is up to the common man in the street in Egypt to take a stand for justice and equality. The Muslim employer, manager and teacher can change his society by treating Christians and Muslims equally and by working to make that the formal accepted policy. And it is up to those who have a public voice, the media, the politicians, the leaders of industry and sport and entertainment, to speak up for decency and justice. The many decent Muslims of Egypt must realise that they can make a difference, and it is time that the silent majority make themselves heard and start to change their society for the better rather than leaving fanatics to set the agenda.

 Most advanced countries today have understood that whatever harms one member of a society harms the whole society. Enlightened societies, both today and in the past, both Western and Muslim, have seen that pluralism is a positive thing, and where the philosophy of “live and let live” predominates, life is best for everyone, including the majority. Muslims revere Christ as a great prophet; perhaps they need to remember one of His key teachings: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you”.

 The Nag Hammadi murders thrust Egypt firmly into the family of unenlightened nations. A Muslim majority that allows such atrocities to go unpunished against a minority may feel big and strong, but they will also lose the respect of the rest of the world, and eventually, their own self-respect. There is simply no place for a society that accepts such internal persecution in the family of modern nations in 2010.

 We can only pray that Egyptian authorities will make an example of this disaster by properly and justly enforcing the rule of law against the perpetrators and sending a clear message to the whole nation that this kind of behaviour will not be tolerated. We must also pray that good and decent Muslims in Egypt, and especially their religious leaders, will find the courage to say openly, “No! This is not the society we want for our children”, and reach out to their Christian neighbours with courage and compassion. Not just because of Nag Hammadi, but because they believe in justice, tolerance and equality for all.

 In the meantime, if you are able, please do attend the peaceful rally to be held this coming Tuesday 19th January.

 Fr Ant

Christmas for Overactive Minds

 There are people in this world who are blessed with the gift of simple faith. They are the ones who see the truth in what they believe and are happy to accept it wholeheartedly and without reservation, much like a young child.

 Then there are those whose minds just won’t stop thinking. These are the ones who must examine and delve and pull apart and understand things. For better or worse, God made me one of the latter. So for those readers who share my affliction, here are some thoughts on the incredible miracle of the Incarnation of the Word of God in Jesus Christ…

 Did Jesus have to be conceived within a virgin? Why couldn’t He have just been born normally and then filled or ‘soaked’ with divinity afterwards?

 In many ways this would have made the story of His life easier for people to accept. Today, there are theologians and clergy in the Churches of the West who cannot accept the concept of the Virgin birth of Christ, because it isn’t natural. They will point to examples of pre-Christian faiths that include virgin births, such as the Egyptian gods Isis and Horus, to show that the Christian one is just one example of a common phenomenon in religions.

 I see this as being a faulty argument. The existence of fakes in no way means that there cannot be a genuine article somewhere. Imagine if someone told you that all the so called Rolex watches sold at the markets are fake, and that therefore there IS no such thing as a genuine Rolex watch. You show him your watch, bought from a reputable jeweller complete with documentation, but he refuses to accept it. Nope, he’s seen too many fakes, so this one can’t be real – why, it looks just the same as all the other fakes!

 The Virgin birth wasn’t just a trick to show off God’s power. There are reasons for the Incarnation to have occurred from a Virgin birth rather than a normal one. Had Jesus been born to a normal couple, we would be missing one of the most important pieces of evidence that He really was God Incarnate rather than just a very holy prophet.

 And that’s not just because He was born miraculously. There are numerous miraculous births recorded in the Bible. Isaac was born miraculously to Abraham and Sarah, many decades beyond childbearing age. Similarly, St John the Baptist was born to an elderly couple after a miraculous announcement by the Archangel Gabriel. It is no surprise that the birth of God Incarnate should also be in miraculous circumstances, but the added extra here is the nature of the miracle itself.

 A virgin mother can only contribute half the DNA necessary for the conception of a new human being. Normally, the other half must be contributed by the father. Where there is no human father, God must have created that DNA miraculously in order for St Mary to conceive.

 Now amongst the bewildering variety of life on earth, you will find examples of “parthenogenesis”, the making of a new individual without this mingling of DNA from two separate parents. But the conception of Christ could not have been a natural event, since His mother did not possess a Y chromosome. All humans possess two sex chromosomes, named, imaginatively, X and Y. Females have two X chromosomes, whereas males have an X and a Y. Each parent contributes one of their sex chromosomes to the child. If both parents contribute an X chromosome to their child, they have a girl. If the father contributes his Y instead of his X, then they have a boy. St Mary had no Y to contribute, so where did the Y that made Jesus male come from?

 It must have been a miraculous creation, and the source must have been the Holy Spirit that overshadowed her and caused the conception to occur in her womb. In this way the Virgin birth points, by its very nature, to an inescapable conclusion: the male child born of St Mary was, in a very real way, truly, the Son of God. He owed His very genes to two parents, one human, the other divine. The mystery of the Incarnation of the Logos, God becoming a true man, is embodied in the event we call the Virgin birth.

 Beautiful, isn’t it? But of course, all that analysis is not what Christmas is really about (and no, it’s not chocolates and presents either). Having exercised an overactive mind sufficiently, one is freed to approach Christmas the way it should be approached: with the love and simplicity of a child…

 “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.” John 3:16

 Wishing all readers a happy and holy Christmas and a blessed 2010.

 

Fr Ant