German Camera Crews, Singing Norwegian Men, and Other Terrifying Creatures of the Desert

Come away with me quickly, my love:
Be like a gazelle
Or a young stag
On the spice-filled mountains of Lebanon.
-The Song of Solomon

I come back to Damascus and Youtube, Facebook, and this blog are unblocked? What's going on? Maybe I can even post pictures later...

Anyways, I just returned from a fantastic two-day trip to Dier Mar Musa monastery with Sven. Mar Musa, build on a rocky mountain, offers a stunningly beautiful view of a sprawling desert valley, located just a few miles from the Lebanese border.

The monastery was apparently very crowded last week because everyone in Syria was off for the week of Eid Mubarak, but by the time I arrived it was quite quiet, and only a handful of people remained. One of the visitors, a girl from Denmark, told me a great story about how she was in the desert when a busload of Norwegian men pulled up and asked where the monastery was. She told them, the bus pulled away, "and all the Norwegian men suddenly broke into a really, really happy song."

Only one odd incident occurred during my time at Mar Musa: I awoke from a mid-day nap (many people nap during the day because it is so hot) and came down to the church to find myself smack in front of a TV camera and German-speaking crew. After a period of mutual surprise and confusion, Sven rushed in and told me that it was a documentary crew filming a conversation between a Syrian monk and visiting Syrian imam.

Like in Cappadocia, the monastery is built into the mountain, and decorated with a plethora of frescoes. I realize that people in the premodern era were significantly shorter than people today, but even so, the monastery seemed more suitable for hobbits than people: many of the doorways were shorter than my waist (and I am only 5' 9"/10").

Mass and an hour of meditation were held every evening. I was surprised at how much Syrian Christianity has appropriated the style, if not substance, of Islam. For example, the congregation (only about ten of us) were made to repeatedly prostrate ourselves before the cross in ritualistic fashion unmistakably resembling that of Muslims praying to Mecca.

Additionally, Arabic calligraphy adorned the monastery, and the word Allah (simply 'God') was omnipresent.

Finally, the masses were intensely intimate, as opposed to overly ritualistic. The Eucharist (Lebanese flatbread) was passed around for all to eat. Homilies were less akin to lectures than discussions, with a lead moderator and other monks and nuns joining in at various points.

I imagine this must have been somewhat similar to how early Christians held mass in households, until the religion reached a critical mass and was forced to institutionalize rituals and other accretions.

So now I'm back in Damascus for another day or two, hopefully staying with a Syrian family I met at Mar Musa. The domineering (I mean that in the best way) matriarch of the family seemed pretty interested in this wayward American boy, and their twenty year old daughter seemed very interested. Hopefully it's not too awkward.

In any case, I'll soon be jumping on to a train to Amman, Jordan.