The Rowdy Mysticism of Coptic Cairo

The smoking, clanging, turbulent liturgy of the Copts on Palm Sunday in Cairo was frankly overwhelming.  Will they really have anything left for Easter?  Not only was every church I went into crammed full, but each had a line to get in extending well outside the church. Incense – shot through with sunlight - was so thick one would think the iconostasis was on fire. Accompanying cymbals lent meandering chants percussive force.  Video cameras recording what was going on at the altar table were displayed to the congregation on dozens of screens, a phenomenon of not-to-be-underestimated significance for liturgical renewal.  “The church itself is (insofar as it is the church) a fabric of endlessly various ramifications and effoliations of Christ’s beauty, unfolding between two parousiai,” wrote David Bentley Hart, and much of that unfolding is happening in Christian Egypt.  Even in a heart-sinkingly filthy rural town outside Cairo, just as one is about to despair of the poverty, one looks up and sees a new Coptic dome presiding, a beachhead in beauty’s war on squalor.

There was security at the entrances to the churches of Cairo, as I suppose there needs to be.  But even if, God forbid, some deluded individuals were to attack these Christians (as some have lately in Nigeria), total despair would be misplaced. The energy in this liturgy cannot be so easily extinguished. Indeed, any other kind of explosion would be dim in comparison to the clamor of this praise. Terrorists summon fear from their claim that the power they wield is ultimate, which it is not.  The deathless one so boisterously exalted in the Coptic liturgy – He is the one with power over life and death.  Do we really believe that?  If the energy of their worship is any indication, the Copts certainly  do. 

And yet, the divisions within Christianity are plain in Egypt, which like Germany or England, has this “national church” under its thumb. Coptic Christianity, as I suggested below, is turned in upon itself, due to its somewhat self-imposed historic isolation under Islam.   American evangelicals sometimes turn to Orthodoxy in assumption that it remains unbroken, especially contrasted to the four churches on the four corners of the typical American town.   But in Cairo one can find a Coptic church on one corner, and a beleaguered Melkite (Greek Orthodox) church in communion with Constantinople on the other.  I approached one such Greek church, and it was in such awful condition that when I tried to open the door (gently mind you), the doorknob came off! 

Christian divisions are lamentable no matter where they are found.  If an Orthodox Christian were to explain to me that the division between Coptic and Greek Orthodoxy is in fact quite permeable, then could I not say the same thing about the divisions between Methodists and Baptists, or Lutherans and Presbyterians?  Yes, since 2001, Coptic and Greek Orthodox Christians have recognized each other’s baptisms, but the aforementioned Protestant divisions have been doing the same for some time as well.  Perhaps Sarah Wilson is right.  Ecumenism should be future-focused.  We should be looking for the common faith as it appears across boundaries, and praying for a unity to come (not for a return to a unity that has long passed us by).  In this, mirabile dictu, the Coptic Pope Shenouda has been leading the way.

Islam and Christian Unity

Most of the pet theories that I had as an undergraduate or in my early twenties have died quiet, merciful deaths, resting in well deserved oblivion (alongside most of the output of my short-lived songwriting career).  How I'm glad the blog medium, back then, was in such primitive form that I could not avail myself of it, as I would have certainly attempted to find for my ill-formed fancies more of an audience than they deserved. Yet last night, staring down at Alexandria from a plane en route to Cairo, was just enough to cause one of those early theories of mine to unexpectedly surface, and I thought I'd record it before the tide of good sense and intellectual sobriety can submerge it once again. I find it hard to believe that no one else has thought of it - the notion I'm about to relate must be out there somewhere in some form in church history.

It regards the Copts, i.e. Egyptian Monophysite Christians.  They were first Protestants, and that's no compliment.  There should never have been a Coptic Church separate from the one Church, yet there was. The diaphysitism of the Council of Chalcedon was the supposed reason for the divide, but - I wouldn't be the first to suggest - just as significant was the fact that the same Council of 451 posited the more recently founded Constantinople, not Alexandria, as second in authority to Rome. Alexandria, that center of learning and culture which gave us the Septuagint, Philo, Clement, Origen the Great (as I like to call him), Antony and Athanasius, was forced to play second fiddle to an upstart. Upon news of the Council's urban rankings, Alexandrian riots were so forceful that the Great Catechetical School itself was destroyed.  A rift ensued.  Emperor Justinian could do nothing to heal it, and a separate branch of "Coptic" Christianity, luxuriating in its own formidable heritage (one soon to be turned in upon itself) was born. That's not the theory, by the way - all that is just the factual preface. My dubious theory is that upon the calcification of this (first?) yet to be fully mended breach within Christendom, God's hand of discipline on his faithless church appeared on the horizon in the form of Islam.  In short:  Copts break off, Christians are given over a century to make ammends, and (failing that) Muslims break in.

It is often remarked how, on the eve of the 16th century Ottoman conquest, the Byzantines preferred the Sultan's turban to the Pope's miter. We forget, however, that long before that the Copts sent the same message to the Byzantines, preferring Arab rule to Constantinople's. They got their wish, and Coptic Orthodoxy sustained enormous pressure to conform to Islam, while being, at the same time, cut off from the resources of the main currents of Christendom.  Not surprisingly, by the ninth century the Arabic language had replaced Coptic even among Christians, and Islam - demographically speaking - finally surpassed Coptic Christianity, making Egypt the predominantly Muslim land that it is today. Yes, Coptic Orthodoxy survived, and survives to this day, thank goodness. (God is, after all, merciful.)  And ecumenical progress on the monophysite issue in recent history is, of course, only to be applauded. But as R.R. Reno has remarked, "Let’s not kid ourselves... Repentance cauterizes; it does not erase."  Schism is sin, and if one believes, as I do, that Christianity stewards the truth (notice my absence of quotation marks) about the divinity of Jesus, then we have paid very dearly for this early schism.

Like I said, it's an outlandish theory that theoretically manhandles the two largest religions in the world, casually attempts to plumb Providence, and has been spurred lately only by a bout of "travel high" (which I'm convinced is a form of insanity). But it's not entirely original either. I seem to recall Isaiah and Jeremiah speaking of the Babylonians and Assyrians in such a "disciplinary" fashion, not to mention the book of Revelation warning about lamps being removed from lampstands (in what is now Islamic Asia Minor no less). But enough. Go back, strange theory, to those shapeless notional recesses from whence you came. But if your brief appearance goads someone else to stop uplifting their glorious "[insert Christian sub-division here] heritage," and to long for the incorporation of such distinctions within the larger body of Christendom instead, then you've done your job.

Wordless Wednesday

Nicosian Walls
Originally uploaded by millinerd

Another day, another Wilson

I so enjoyed summarizing what one Wilson had to say that I did it again.

A Scarf for the Ecumenical Winter

Sarah Wilson’s editorials in Lutheran Forum are like Jason Byassee’s guest editorials in Theology Today: Not to be missed. I’ve already conveyed Byassee’s noticing a new – notably institutional - fidelity in younger Christians. And now Wilson, in "Why Stay?", chimes in with some reasons for traditional Christians to remain in denominations with, shall we say, “difficulties.” Though she has ELCA Lutherans in mind, her reasoning applies across much of the board. Her essay is both realistic and hopeful, though she admits that an argument to stay or leave will never have the mystical sheen of Nicaea or Chalcedon. Instead, it will be “a messy argument about the church and the sinners who populate it… neither self-evident nor conclusive nor susceptible of satisfying proof.” Inspired in part by Radner’s The End of the Church (which she suggests may be “tragically correct”), Wilson points out the need to love one’s enemies, quoting an obscure Scriptural passage that says something about “endur[ing] all things.”

Without downplaying the fractious issues at hand, Wilson reminds us that a church body “decreeing” something means little unless it is received. In other words, we need not get too worked up about “official” denominational pronouncements, as they may not ultimately matter. (Anyone who has attended such denominational meetings will, no doubt, concur.) More pressing should be the following concern: “You don’t want to face the Lord on judgment day and say, ‘I broke fellowship with the unrighteous because I was sick of dealing with them,’ lest He say the same thing back to you!” Mixed metaphors or not, the following phrase of Wilson’s is also a keeper: “It’s time to stop playing the game that actually plays us, jump off the hamster wheel of denominational splintering, and renounce schism once and for all as a solution to ecclesiastical trouble.”

In another meaty article on the liturgical movement, Wilson goes on to squeeze some lemonade from the lemons of our present “ecumenical winter” (mixed metaphors, it seems, are contagious). Summarizing a wide swath of recent scholarship, Wilson rehearses the gains and losses of the liturgical movement’s past 100 years, which is yoked to the same gains and losses of the ecumenical movement. Massive projects such as the international Lima Liturgy, Wilson suggests, have proven more reflective of those with the time, interest and plane fare to attend ecumenical world summits that anything genuinely “on the ground.” Bureaucracy, 20th century ecumenism taught us, can only go so far.

And yet, Wilson suggests that the apparent “decline” of the formal liturgical movement conceals an invisible success: “Nearly all the liturgy in our churches these days is ecumenical… Hymns cross boundaries… non-Roman Catholics sing Gregorian chants, non-Evangelicals sing contemporary praise songs… [all] a remarkable case of spontaneous reception.” Even if such success is due more to globalization than the liturgical movement itself, it’s an encouraging fact. Wilson sees a lack of formal, universal liturgy to be a plus. The holy grail (quite literally) of a shared eucharist need not be the only measure of ecumenical and liturgical success. Instead, we should be teaching how the common faith appears across boundaries, and learning how to recognize when it does not (as, for example, when Father, Son and Holy Spirit is replaced with “Creator, Redeemer, Sustainer”). In other words, Wilson suggests we should be fostering receptivity for an ecumenism to come.

The theme of reception connects both of Wilson’s articles. Denominational statements (however vapid) and liturgical inventions (however ingenious) both mean little if they are not received by the laity. John Henry Newman famously articulated the same principle in his essay “on consulting the faithful in matters of doctrine.” For another example of the need for reception, consider that fifteenth century “ecumenical movement,” spurred by Ottoman colonialism, which culminated in the Council of Ferrara-Florence. Like the ecumenism of the past century, this council too had a great deal of initial, outward success. But such success was not received. It gave church history a fleeting glimpse of Orthodox/Catholic unity, which the Orthodox back home simply did not buy. Fortunately, there is a much greater degree of receptivity for this kind of unity today, though it has taken five centuries, and may take more.

The point is this: Church unity is far larger, less detectable, and much more important than any of our official organizations, statements or meetings can convey. Hence, when one looks beyond such (lately faltering) formalities, things appear much differently. One may or may not find Wilson’s arguments for staying convincing, but her decision to endure is buoyed by ecumenical hope. Perhaps we Protestants should spend less time wondering whether or not we should become Roman Catholic or Orthodox, and more time marveling that the question is even a possibility. (Such marveling was the entire point of Noll and Nystrom’s Is the Reformation Over?) Despite her dissatisfaction with the ELCA to which she is committed, Wilson sees new flashes of receptivity in the contemporary Christian terrain. Instead of looking back to an ideal “undivided” church, she proposes

that we consider the unified church for which Jesus prayed to lie not in the past but still in the future. When we have a true reconciliation of all baptized Christians, this will be a better unity than the church has ever known, better even than the unity of the early, non-yet-divided church.

I’m not sure if Wilson’s closing salvo is a punt to nowhere in particular, or a gust of warmth in the big ecumenical chill. But I like it (though I would have appreciated hearing more about the undeniable role that the See of Peter would play, and is playing, in such future reconciliation). At any rate, one may wonder why such proposed unity doesn’t happen more quickly, but one needs not: The Holy Spirit, after all, has to deal with us.

Cyprus Path

Cyprus path
Originally uploaded by millinerd

Just another day in Cyprus

Just another day in Cyprus
Originally uploaded by millinerd