Byblos

Daytrippin' to Byblos or, Jbael just North of Beirut was a great opportunity for a change of scenery. Byblos, the longest continuously-inhabited town (earliest occupation is 5th millennium B.C.), was the papyrus-making center for Egypt (hence, Byblos -- from biblios) and thought to be the birthplace of the first linear alphabet (Phoenecian). It was amazing to see the layers of history laid out for all of God and everyone to see -- tombs of Kings, peasants, Crusader castle built with a hodgepodge of materials on hand. And now, a small port for fishermen and rowdy tourists who want to go out on the water for $2 a person. Among the nine of us, six nations were represented (Germany, Palestine, Armenia, Kuwait, Kenya, United States), seven if you include the confused Kenyan wearing the French flag t-shirt (apparently he likes their football team).

After lunch, we split up; a few wanting to return to Beirut and the rest of us wandering around a bit more. We managed to procure keys to St. John the Baptist Church from the caretaker monks, thanks to our charming friend Ashraf. Inside, we sat on the pews and tried to absorb the history of this little house of worship. It's pretty hard to fathom but you sit there, gazing around in wonderment, thinking about the seeming endless string of Sundays that this old stone building had borne witness to, not to mention Monday through Saturday outside of its walls.

From there, we made our way to the beach on the Mediterranean shore. What a gorgeous site. The water was warm and only one of us thought to bring a swimsuit, so the rest of us frolicked on the beach. After awhile, we noticed large black splotches on the soles of our feet. Ashraf explained to us that these were clumps of oil left over from last summer's war with Hezbollah. I swear, if we don't kill each other first, we'll kill ourselves through our blatant disregard for the soil that has been so generous to our ungrateful souls.

We watched a spectacular sunset as we waited for the bus on the highway. We returned back just in time for dinner and everyone agreed: it had been a good day.

Barakat!

I went to see a film called Barakat!on Thursday (10 Oct). It was a French-Algerian submission to the Middle East Film Festival that was being held in Beirut last week. The movie was typically French artistic cinema style; slow-moving, languid, full of rich, silent scenes that seem to go on so long, you're amazed to check your watch and find that the woman has only been peeling her lime (in close up) for five minutes. However, for as endless and elephantine as it seemed to move, it was, aside from “Flicka” (which I saw against my will on the plane back from Egypt, held prisoner by my seat which was located right in front of the screen), perhaps the most horrifying movie I've seen this year.

The setting is mid-1990s Algeria, certainly post liberation from French colonization and, in the void that was left by strong (if not unjust) leadership, Islamic fundamentalists found a foothold. The story begins with a young doctor, Amel, who is setting the table for dinner when her neighbor calls out to her. The neighbor (who is Muslim) has a son who, after assessment, is determined to have appendicitis. There is a short discussion as to who should travel with the doctor to the hospital -- the husband or wife (without marriage papers, the husband with Amel is bad, but two women driving alone at night isn't all that attractive either). It is determined that the wife would go with Amel with little problem. Amel returns to find the table set as she left it and her husband nowhere to be found. This is where the story takes off. Amel's husband, a truth-telling journalist, has been kidnapped by the local Islamic extremists who found him uncomfortably close. She and a colleague set out to find him, at a tip provided by an acquaintance -- also Muslim -- who bids her to be careful in her search. What follows is Amel and her colleague's arrival at an abandoned village where they are captured, forced to provide medical aid to injured extremists, locked up to an unknown fate for the night, then set free, shoe-less and husband-less, to walk back. In their walk down the mountain, they run into a rural, friendly widower who takes them by horse and cart to Amel's father's home, where they stock up on provisions. They return to Amel's home and, after some piecing together, find Amel's husband in her neighbor's garage, presumably alive, but it is not confirmed for the viewer.

The film is rich with fear. As a woman, Amel is a product of progression; she is an E.R. doctor, self-assured and strong-willed. However, nothing around her confirms these traits and it makes one wonder what happened in that window between liberation and the mid-90s. At one point, it was acceptable for her education to take her through medical school. But, now, society has violently regressed at a rapid pace. At one point, Amel walks into a restaurant in her hometown. The viewer is or, at least, I as a woman am, highly aware that the restaurant is full of men and the only females are Amel and her companion. The tension grows thicker as Amel is cat-called and whistled at. One man, in particular, is very verbal and she finally challenges to come “take a look at the goods” if he's so interested. As he draws near, she pulls a revolver on him and everyone in the restaurant jumps back about two feet, stunned. They walk out of the restaurant and one can't help but get the feeling that those men won't forget such an incident for some time. The question is: would such an event make them think twice or only increase their violence toward women? Sadly, I suspect the latter. One also intuits that a person like Amel is not the kind of person easily brought to such a place of violence but, the filmmaker does an excellent job of making the viewer feel just as cornered and desperate for survival as Amel, herself, is.

While I wouldn't rate this film a must-see (most of my companions thought it was dreadfully long and slow), but I have to say it scared the pancreas out of me. Not because the film itself was scary, but because such a universe is a reality for numerous people in this world. The ignorance and violence implemented as “God's will” is enough to turn anyone atheist. Wouldn't it just be easier if the world didn't have religion? Perhaps John Lennon was onto something. Of course, such a question is rather ironic, coming from a seminary student, isn't it? Ha ha.

I guess it's just the perversion of hope twisted into oppression that can seem overwhelmingly defeating. What's worse: religious oppression or the soullessness of capitalistic materialism? Depends on the day, I suppose. To be honest, there are two things that keep me tied in: experience of hope fulfilled and that slightly irrational concept that love can overcome. I guess, as a Christian living in this world, these are the only options I have. It's not enough to believe because “God said so” and it's not enough to drop out because I'm disgusted with the game. Dietrich Bonhoeffer wasn't too keen on his Nazi Germany but he stayed because this is where he belonged: with his people, on his soil. He watched them destroy themselves so that he could have the right to be there to rebuild. I know that the analogy doesn't fit as neatly as it could in other contexts but there is something so deeply necessary about stressing commitment to the family while confronting the disgusting perversion of God's hope for the world that all who claim that one and only God as their own (whether it was 1000 years ago or yesterday).

technicalities

In case you were wondering how to get a subscription to the blog (i.e. receive an email everytime it's updated, click the "googlegroups" link to the left and sign up to the group. That will put your email address on the listserve. Thanks!

recent images...

like, woah

The Archbishop of Canterbury came to town the day after I showed up and he came by N.E.S.T. for a brief dialogue about Muslim-Christian relations. It's nice that he's come 'round to being interested in this topic but I heard a lot of Lebanese folks expressing some surprise at how far behind he is in addressing the issue. I think they didn't really take much away from the experience because they've been on the forefront for years. Kudos to his grace in turning some attention to this but I'd say it's a little like the U.S. Government wondering if they should monitor the work of it's contracted military agents.

conversations

I've had so many conversations with people since I've been here. With Palestinian students, Bahjat, Saneen and Ashraf I've discussed their situation a bit. With Ashraf, about the ignorance of the Palestinian situation and the misinformation provided by the U.S. news media. How can these people, in good conscience, present a situation so that everything is turned upside down? How is it that they can try to make people feel that they want to be on the side of the Israelis when so much of the problem lies with the Israelis themselves? It is baffling and the injustice and damage that it does to the Palestinian plight is so painful. I asked him if there were tensions between Christian and Muslim Palestinians and he mentioned that there probably would be more, but that they are united by their mutual oppression. They both suffer under the Israeli rule.

With Bahjat and Saneen, discussing the Christian-Muslim situation was interesting. The vast majority of Middle Eastern Christians I've spoken to (thinking back to Egypt) has been dead set against Islam. They are firmly unconvinced that inter-marriage does not work which, in their context, is definitely true. The Christian will always be forced to convert. Such a marriage would cause – and has caused – a riot within the village. If the other person does not convert to Islam, they could possibly be killed!
The thing is, though, it seems as though each side thinks that things can only be good if it goes their way and I have to wonder if they are simply two sides of the same coin. I mean, from his perspective, the Christians (currently) are not nearly as violent and I hope he's right, but both sides are so unmoving. And, it's been this way for so long...it just seems as though one might try a less staunch approach. Or, at least, a non-violent one. But, I suppose that this is easy for me to say, not having had to endure 8 hours at various checkpoints to get around, having to apply for a passport in a neighboring country in order to study somewhere...right now, a Palestinian nationality is an albatross around one's neck. But, I do sort of understand why they keep it there. I suppose hope is always an option.

graffiti

A few things I've noticed around town...

in the beginning...

As I sit here in this hipster cafe in the Hamra district of Beirut, I can hardly believe I've only been in Beirut for a week, it feels like so much longer. I have had enough conversations and met enough people to fill a month's worth of interaction. It has been stimulating, sometimes confusing but always engaging.

LOCATION AND LIVING
To give you the lay of the land, the Near East School of Theology (N.E.S.T.) is located a few blocks from the American University in Beirut and the Mediterranean sea to the north. The building of the school itself includes classrooms, dorms, a basketball gym, library, etc. There are two chapels – a large one, in which various public lectures and meetings are held as well as worship services for an Arabic Presbyterian Church. The smaller chapel is where daily chapel takes place (just before lunch). The dorms are situated in suites of two rooms, sharing a bathroom. One of the suites is for two people, while the other is a single. The school was generous enough to give me a single room during my stay here and one wall is all glass, with a door leading to a balcony. The view affords one an intimate look at the construction techniques of the Lebanese. I'm sure the condominium being built will be quite nice when it's finished. In general, the neighborhood is rather posh, with many high-end cars, designer shops and well-off students of AUB dotting the streets. However, one needs not look far to understand that this is a city doing its best to regain footing after repeated attempts to undermine its social stability. A walk down the Corniche (a walkway along the Mediterranean) one way will lead you to two bombed-out buildings that stand as reminders of the country's civil war nearly 30 years ago and a walk down the other way leads you to the sight of a recent bombing of an anti-Syrian government official not more than 3.5 months ago.



















Meals are at fixed times, breakfast at 7:30, lunch at 12:30 and dinner at 7pm. It is a long stretch between lunch and dinner but one learns to manage. Meals generally consist of something like giant pitas, cut in quarters, olives, a salad, and some kind of main meal item (lentils with rice, some kind of chicken concoction and rice, etc) with some fruit.

Always, after lunch, we all (students and interested faculty) sit down and have some Arabic coffee and conversation. This is a rich time of conversation that is bound to lead to one revelation or another – from cultural clarifications to political issues that leave everyone staring out into the distance. I am so lucky that everyone speaks English as well as they do. I've already been exposed to a variety of perspectives and opinions that come from a very different set of life experiences than my own.





PEOPLE
Students at N.E.S.T. come from a mosaic of nations. I am the representative American, although many people first asked if I was from China or Japan or Korea. As one person put it, I “don't look American.” There are five students from all over Germany, here for a full year, five pastors here on sabbatical for a few months, others from Sudan, Kenya, Palestine, Syria, Armenia and, of course, Lebanon. Everyone is warm, friendly and welcoming. They are incredibly gracious and generous in spirit, open and willing to share and engage. Even though I do not speak Arabic, I have yet to feel like an outsider among my classmates.
(this is Anna, an Armenian student)
(Ashraf is in his last year of studies and he is heeheelarious)

DAILY LIFE
While I'm still formulating my daily life, so far it has looked something along the lines of running in the morning, which is no small feat with the uneven walking streets or sidewalks, vehicle fumes and whistling soldiers on nearly every street corner. Sometimes crossing the street is like being in the video game “Frogger.” Fortunately, I'm fairly well-seasoned at dodging traffic although, I consider it a smart decision not to have tried to bring a bike by switching bikes with that guy at school who has a foldable bike. That may have pushed my vehicular luck over the edge.

Classes have begun this week and so, after breakfast, I usually have a 30-90 minute break before my first class. My classes include spoken Arabic, Introduction to Islam, Islamic Theology, Contemporary Eastern Christian Churches and the Life and Ministry of Jesus. All of them are highly engaging and interesting for me. I wish I had a better brain to take in all of the information that is being offered but, I guess I'll just have to make do with the one I have.

I'm getting settled in. I bought a gardenia plant and my room is now fragrant with one of my most favorite flower scents, I've put up the few pictures that I brought with me and am generally getting more comfortable and familiar with my surroundings. I will always remember this part in "L'Auberge Espagnol" when the main character arrives in Barcelona, is making his way to his new living space and talks about how when you first arrive somewhere, everything looks so unfamiliar and you don't know which way is up but, at some point, the place becomes as comfortable as your backyard and you know the ins and outs as you would your own neighborhood. I know that, eventually, the neighborhood will feel like my own but, until then, I fumble my way around and picking it up as I go along.