By Sara
*To concerned friends and family, this post isn't actually about losing my religious beliefs, mostly because I didn't really have many to lose (apologies to my parents for all the money put towards Sunday and H-school): the reason behind the not-particularly-clever title to the post is Eric has found that song titles seem to bring many hits from Google. Speaking of heresy, another cheap way to bring in hits is the mention of anything remotely pornographic . But I digress...
Despite a lack of piety, one can't help but feel a sense of awe at the power of religion in this part of the world, the birthplace of Judaism, Islam, and Christianity. We have had the pleasure of taking part in both Ramadan festivities as well as holy days more familiar to us over the past month, and this weekend took in a little New Testament as well.
In our attempt to get out of Dodge during the busy post-Ramadan holiday of Eid al Fitr , we took to the remote mountains about an hour outside of town for a visit to Deir Mar Mousa, a very untraditional monastery originally begun around 600 A.D., but re-founded by an Italian Jesuit in the late 1980s.
To get to the remote desert location, we took a mini-bus from a Damascus garage to the town of Nabek then (for an extra fee) the driver took us to the monastery's exterior. At this point, one must ascend a relatively steep hill for about 40 minutes to reach the first of a series of stone buildings. Expecting a respite from the pace of Damascus, we were surprised to hear children yelling as we reached our destination. We were not the only ones searching for peace.
Apparently, Eid is one of the busiest weekends for visitors. We began
to have second thoughts about our plans to stay the night. The
atmosphere was kibbutz meets sleep-away camp. Visitors are invited to
stay in single-sex dorms and eat meals with the monks and nuns, with the
expectation of a church attendance as well as helping out around the premises. Needless to say, we were more than
happy to receive free room and board, but any talk of soul-saving makes
us both a little ill at ease. Add rowdy school kids to the mix and I'd just assume stay home.
But once we got our bearings and met a few people and a few bus loads of kids went home, we began to appreciate the uniqueness of our surroundings.
As for mass and vespers and all that, I can't say I was brought to any
kind of awakening, but the chapel itself was one of the most amazing
I've ever seen. Built between 600 - 1000 A.D, many of the original
frescoes remain in
tact. Instead of pews, worshippers sit on carpets and cushions.
[Note: We--read, Eric--clipped the above photo from this Flickr collection, which has some great shots of the church.]
The priest delivered Sunday mass seated cross-legged before the congregation. Lit by only a small stream of sunlight from an overhead window and candles, his engaging, paternal manner of speaking captured the attention of the dozens in attendance. Though the service was in Arabic, I, too was somewhat mesmerized, but not completely. We snuck out during communion, having had enough religious experience for one day.
