Egypt Journal #7
Thursday, December 07, 2006
JOURNAL: November 22, 2006 - Wednesday - 10:30 a.m.
Yesterday was a real highlight of the trip. We went from Alexandria to two monasteries in Wadi-al-Natrun: the monastery of St. Bishoy and the monastery of El-Syriani. At St. Bishoy, we were led by a monk named Father Nicodemus, a man who possesses the rare combination of holiness and humor. I found myself awed by the place from the moment we walked inside. Parts of it date from the 8th century, while other parts are modern. But a uniform architectural style has been maintained throughout, in the distinctive look of the Coptic Church (round domes topped by Coptic crosses, plain brown walls befitting the desert, etc.).
When we walked into the first of several churches inside the monastery walls, there in front of us were the relics of St. Bishoy himself. Though his body is covered in a velvet crimson cloth bearing his image, it is said that the remains are perfectly preserved, without mummification. During his life, St. Bishoy received two appearances of the resurrected Jesus. At one, he washed Jesus' feet, and at the other, he carried Jesus on his shoulders. For these acts of humble faithfulness, Jesus promised him that his body would be preserved.
There were monks and laymen chanting prayers around the relics, and I was overcome with the presence of the Holy Spirit. The icons hanging on the walls looked out at me and seemed to look inside of my soul. There was just a fullness to the place, so that I did not want to leave.
On my way out, I was stopped in the doorway by an Egyptian man - very jovial and friendly - who wanted to talk to me about both Egyptian and American cultures.
We moved on through the tour until we ended up inside another church, which was in the ancient keep of St. Bishoy. There was an icon of Christ there, who was holding a Greek copy of the Bible turned to John 8:12 - "I am the light of the world..." When Father Nicodemus talked about this and had a student read it in the Greek, I found myself withouth thought or words. Tears fell from my eyes, and I was filled with something I can only describe as a holy, divine love. It was so pure and so good that it hurt, although the pain was not unwelcome. It felt cleansing of body body and soul. My attempts to comprehend it or understand it with words in my mind were confronted by a silence, and I think God wanted me to accept the silence.
When Father Nicodemus then read to us from the Coptic Bible, the Spirit visited again. No words I could write would this justice; I only know that the holiness of Father Nicodemus, the physical space of the St. Bishoy monastery, the impact of the icons, and perhaps my openness and willingness to receive, all combined to make me intimately aware of God's love at that moment.
I'm writing this hours afterward, of course. But as I think back on it, I don't like to think of this as a "religious experience." To do such a thing would be to tame it, to bracket if off from "normal experience." Instead, I hope that I can think of it as another step in the continuing redemption of my body and soul. I have prayed to be healed, and I have taken steps this semester to be more committed to discipleship. I want to learn to really pray, and that's what I think was happening at St. Bishoy - I was praying. This is not an isolated "experience," but simply a part of my ongoing healing - the recovery of my true nature through the ministry of the Holy Spirit.
Yesterday was a real highlight of the trip. We went from Alexandria to two monasteries in Wadi-al-Natrun: the monastery of St. Bishoy and the monastery of El-Syriani. At St. Bishoy, we were led by a monk named Father Nicodemus, a man who possesses the rare combination of holiness and humor. I found myself awed by the place from the moment we walked inside. Parts of it date from the 8th century, while other parts are modern. But a uniform architectural style has been maintained throughout, in the distinctive look of the Coptic Church (round domes topped by Coptic crosses, plain brown walls befitting the desert, etc.).
When we walked into the first of several churches inside the monastery walls, there in front of us were the relics of St. Bishoy himself. Though his body is covered in a velvet crimson cloth bearing his image, it is said that the remains are perfectly preserved, without mummification. During his life, St. Bishoy received two appearances of the resurrected Jesus. At one, he washed Jesus' feet, and at the other, he carried Jesus on his shoulders. For these acts of humble faithfulness, Jesus promised him that his body would be preserved.
There were monks and laymen chanting prayers around the relics, and I was overcome with the presence of the Holy Spirit. The icons hanging on the walls looked out at me and seemed to look inside of my soul. There was just a fullness to the place, so that I did not want to leave.
On my way out, I was stopped in the doorway by an Egyptian man - very jovial and friendly - who wanted to talk to me about both Egyptian and American cultures.
We moved on through the tour until we ended up inside another church, which was in the ancient keep of St. Bishoy. There was an icon of Christ there, who was holding a Greek copy of the Bible turned to John 8:12 - "I am the light of the world..." When Father Nicodemus talked about this and had a student read it in the Greek, I found myself withouth thought or words. Tears fell from my eyes, and I was filled with something I can only describe as a holy, divine love. It was so pure and so good that it hurt, although the pain was not unwelcome. It felt cleansing of body body and soul. My attempts to comprehend it or understand it with words in my mind were confronted by a silence, and I think God wanted me to accept the silence.
When Father Nicodemus then read to us from the Coptic Bible, the Spirit visited again. No words I could write would this justice; I only know that the holiness of Father Nicodemus, the physical space of the St. Bishoy monastery, the impact of the icons, and perhaps my openness and willingness to receive, all combined to make me intimately aware of God's love at that moment.
I'm writing this hours afterward, of course. But as I think back on it, I don't like to think of this as a "religious experience." To do such a thing would be to tame it, to bracket if off from "normal experience." Instead, I hope that I can think of it as another step in the continuing redemption of my body and soul. I have prayed to be healed, and I have taken steps this semester to be more committed to discipleship. I want to learn to really pray, and that's what I think was happening at St. Bishoy - I was praying. This is not an isolated "experience," but simply a part of my ongoing healing - the recovery of my true nature through the ministry of the Holy Spirit.
posted by Andrew C. Thompson at 5:36 PM
1 Comments:
I get the feeling that as you were making this blog entry, Andrew, you are reliving the experience, awesome! Thank you for sharing it with me.
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