Cyber Ethiopia

‘Sinai’. Just the word evokes mystical images of biblical times – Moses and the burning bush and the Ten Commandments. Astoundingly, the place lives up to the image. The jagged peaks rise from the flat plains, with broad wadis (valleys) dividing ranges. Between the peaks the rock formations run down, still like the rivers of lava they once were. Monastery of St. Catherine’s In the deep south of the peninsula, the Monastery of St. Catherine’s rises box-like from the desert, a tiny citadel of humanity confronting the wilderness. Uncharacteristic green blooms from the ‘garden’ behind – a lonely olive plantation and other basic plants which helped to reduce the dependency of the monastery on outside supplies during the long periods of isolation and repression. The high walls and

towers attest to the need for defence from the hostile surroundings and treasure hunters attracted by the monastery’s wealthy reputation. At certain points all the ground level entrances were bricked up and access for goods and people was only by a pulley system over the 30 foot walls. The monastery has a long and illustrious, if checkered, history. Founded in the 300’s in honour of Mt. Sinai and the burning bush, it only became St. Catherine’s in about 900 AD after the reputed discovery of the remains of the Saint on the summit of Mt. Catherine (which was Mt something else before). St. Catherine had led an interesting life in Alexandria up until 305, when she was executed for her unfashionable belief in Christianity. The story goes that she was tall, beautiful, and wise and learned, and she attempted to convert the Roman Emperor of the day, Maximus, away from idol worship. He was apparently impressed by her learning, if not her beliefs, so he gathered 50 wise men to convert Catherine from her mistaken beliefs. As these stories normally go, she not only didn’t have her mind changed, she converted the 50 scholars to Christianity. This irritated Maximus sufficiently so that he not only decreed Catherine should die – he developed a special device to do it. Maximus had a two wheeled machine made, equipped with sharp knives, which turned in opposite directions to slice up the victim. When Catherine was subjected to this the knives did not cut her flesh, and she emerged unscathed. The failed machine was dubbed a ‘Catherine wheel’. The second attempt at execution succeeded, this time through beheading. However, it wasn’t blood which came from Catherine’s wounds, it was milk. The reappearance of Catherine’s well preserved corpse on a mountain top 500 km from Alexandria, 600 years later, as with all miracles requires no explanation. This happy discovery led to the renaming of the Monastery between Mt. Sinai and the also newly named Mt. St. Catherine. The monastery had the protection of remoteness, which was especially important during dangerous interludes of history hostile to Christianity in the area. Local tribes, and a group with the charming name of the "Blemmys" from the other side of the Gulf of Suez, would raid the monastery and massacre monks on a regular basis. After the Islamic invasion of the 600’s, the monastery was saved by the personal protection of the Prophet Mohammed, who protected monks and holy men of different religions. The monastery apparently still has the parchment that Mohammed signed to give them protection. This came in handy over the centuries when Islamic zealots took it upon themselves to attack the infidels (and no doubt raid their treasures). Over the centuries visitors to the monastery reported a bewildering variation in the conditions and the inhabitants, which may say as much about the visitors as the monastery! Armenians, Ethiopians, Syrians, Europeans as well as Egyptians are reported to have been in residence. While at one point the monks were exclusively Ethiopian, today the monks are all Greek by policy. The monastery is the smallest independent church of the Greek Orthodox faith (with its’ own archbishop even). This differs from the Egyptian Coptic or Ethiopian Orthodox churches which took different positions in the various splits which emerged in Christianity from 300 AD on. The Trip to Mt. Sinai The drive to the monastery from the east is spectacular – particularly at the point where the highlands suddenly break downward into a sandy plain broken by gigantic outcrops. The signs of tourism abound as you get closer to the monastery, with buses and shops becoming frequent. This is still a heavily militarized place, having had four wars fought in the vicinity in the last 50 odd years, so there are checkpoints. Passports were needed, which we fortunately discovered only 10 minutes away from the hotel as we were leaving for our day trip – so we only had a short detour back to get them! The crossroads of St. Catherine’s leads to the Monastery parking lot where a chaos of buses and hawkers crowd during the opening time of 9-12. We followed the crowd up through the outer courtyards, when the impressively high walls of the monastery appeared. Building on the walls has at least four distinct eras – small rocks with mortar near the foundation, large blocks with mortar above, then sections of small blocks, topped by stone wall that is probably repair work. The rounded towers jut out from the walls, capping the imposing picture. It would take some determination for invaders without cannon to take this little fortress. Rising visibly above the walls is the bell tower of the main church and incongruously, the top of a mosque. The mosque within the walls was no doubt added insurance against Moslems who hadn’t heard of Mohammed’s protection of this place. Entrance is gained through a small doorway underneath the old pulley system that was used when all the entrances were closed. Very little of the inside of the monastery is accessible to the visitor. The Greek monks are obviously overwhelmed by the scale of the tourist invasion that has descended with the advent of good roads and peace (since 1982). They are protective and intolerant, which makes sense. We walked around in the herd into the Basilica church, cheek by jowl with the Italians, French, Israelis, Americans, Brits, …. There are four big attractions in the monastery from what I can gather – the burning bush, the basilica mosaic, the icon collection, and the book collection. The ‘burning bush’ is a bush, and it is not burning. It is not supposed to be the original from the time of Moses, but the same type of bush that has been replanted over the centuries. The roots of the original burning bush are supposed to be under the floor. The basilica mosaic was not available for public viewing. It is at the far end of the basilica from the main entrance. The main section of the church is cheapened and obscured by a ridiculous collection of lanterns, most of which look very pedestrian. Pictures of the Basilica mosaic have our fairly typical Jesus, Mary and the rest of the congregation look. My theory about the awful lantern collection is that because the church has been favoured by so many monarchs with gifts, they are like buying for someone who has everything. I guess over the centuries too many kings said ‘they can always use another chandelier – they like those, don’t they?’ The Icons and Books The icon collection is a completely different experience. It is beautiful and unique, and reveals an interesting patch of church history. As we all know from Moses and the Ten Commandments – thou shalt not make graven images for worship or to copy the image of the Lord our God. One of the big church debates from about 300-900 AD (which led to many of the splits which resulted in various Orthodox and Catholic churches) was whether making images of Jesus Christ was in fact a graven image. The debate centred on whether Jesus was entirely part of God, or whether there was a human Jesus as well. For a period of about 200 years – 600-800 AD, the notion that Jesus was part of God and therefore could not be painted or copied in statues prevailed in the Eastern and Western church. The zealous methodically went about destroying the bulk of early Christian art. This was accompanied by much slaughter, as some churchmen tried to protect their relics. The only known place to have escaped this plague was our little monastery of St. Catherine’s – which was too obscure to bother with. As a result, the best collection of early Christian iconography is to be found at St. Catherine’s, and a sizable number of pieces are displayed. They are hard to see properly, especially with Italian and French guides bellowing their lines out on either side of you and Teutonic tourists in tennis shoes pushing from behind. One of the interesting (and perhaps only) observation I could make is that the old depictions of Jesus Christ give him that peculiar forked beard with bare chin which is also evident on the shroud of Turin. Somehow this depiction of Jesus has not become popular, it does give a kind of harsh aspect to his face. Although I find the intense observation of paintings tedious after a very short time, once I got outside the church at the back I enjoyed the painting over the door. I could sit on the stairs away from the crowd and contemplate Jesus, with Moses and his tablets on the left and John the Baptist on the right, and sundry others around. I was proud that I could pick out John the Baptist, who is frequently shown with his right index finger held up. The book collection is probably the most astounding and historically useful part of the monastery. 6000 volumes have been preserved, some from the earliest periods of Christian time, other facile trash which accumulates in libraries everywhere (at least in mine). The earliest known version of the New Testament in Greek was found here, and promptly lifted by a German biblical scholar in the 1850’s (who gave it to Czar Alexander, leaving an IOU with St. Catherine’s for its’ return). This volume changed the way that biblical scholars viewed the order of the New Testament books – putting John as the earliest instead of the previously accepted Matthew and Mark (pretty exciting stuff!). Looking at a bunch of books in languages you don’t understand is not considered very stimulating. They had a small display case with a few books – including Ge-ez from Ethiopia, Greek and Arabic. An interesting footnote to the early Greek New Testament is that in 1975 the monks were clearing a section of a wall after a fire and discovered a large number of books that had been buried in a roof cave in centuries before. This included 12 previously undiscovered pages from the earliest Greek version of the New Testament. The pages are being translated and analyzed, but there are no public results yet (it’s only been 23 years after all!). At least the German didn’t get his hands on them. It was difficult to gain an appreciation of the ambience with the crowds and tension. A few hours later, when the monastery was closed to the public and the hordes had departed, we passed by the monastery on the way back from Mt. Sinai. It was magical in the silence. We could only see the outer wall, but nothing was blocked by the crowds. The various Malta and Templar crosses on the walls were visible as were the pulleys used during the closed era. The atmosphere was powerful, old, and eerie.