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You Will Forget the World: Deir Mar Moussa (photo post)
Posted on 2006.10.19 at 18:35
According to legend, an Ethiopian monk by the name of Moussa fled to Syria in the 6th century AD, where he founded a monastery in the rock-studded desert between Damascus and Homs. It was one of many little monasteries that dotted the desert in the early years of Christendom - all sorts of people felt the need to get away from it all. The building was extensively redone in the 11th-13th centuries, but had fallen into disuse in the last few hundred years. In the late 1970s, an Italian Jesuit by the name of Paolo came across the place still in comparatively good shape. An archaeologist by training, he became fascinated by the isolated monastery. He and a group of European and Middle Eastern monks and nuns set about restoring it, managing to get funds to do so from the Vatican, the Syrian government, and others. The restorations - the trickiest of which being the mediaeval frescoes in the chapel - are finally complete, and they're building yet another housing structure, this time for women. Mar Moussa is a functioning place again.
The monastery became famous because of its hospitality. Anyone - absolutely anyone - who comes to Mar Moussa and helps do a few chores is welcome to share their meals, their prayer services, and sleep in their dormitories nestled against the rocks. As a result, it's become popular not just among Syrian Christians on pilgrimage, but also foreign tourists. When I was there, there were a half dozen or so Syrians, a couple of foreign students my age, and a French woman who was staying there for a month while she tried to pick up some Arabic. Cosmopolitanism and pastorialism all in one spot. On my second day there, a pack of Saudi tourists even showed up. They were downright respectful, by the standards of Saudi tourists. Mar Moussa will do that to you.
Life there is laid-back, friendly. Lots of relaxing, snacking, chatting and meeting new people, hiking in the hills when the heat of day receded. People mingle randomly, everyone is friendly and glad to get a break from the stress and noise of the world. Paolo would periodically come out to chat with whoever was there: I noticed him using at least four languages fluently. After the din of Damascus, the near-total silence of the desert was like balm. I have a memory of having a long conversation - one of the first such conversations I managed to pull off in Arabic - with a pilgrim from Damascus. She explained to me that she wasn't really religious, but a freethinker who believed that all religions are basically retelling the same myth. I was thrilled that I could even understand her - I still have an open invitation to visit their family.
I remember the mass. It was in Arabic, in the old chapel, thick with incense and lit only by candles. We all sat on carpets and pillows and listened as Paolo spoke in Arabic about love and community. Afterwards, we went outside where, thanks to the new moon, I saw more stars than I have ever seen in my life. I've been to some very isolated places, but I'd never seen anything like it.
You really do forget the world while you're at Mar Moussa. I hope it continues to be a little oasis of calm for anyone who needs to step out of their lives, at least once in a while.
The Desert just outside of the town of Nabak, the closest civilization to Mar Moussa. The monastery is about 20km away from Nabak, and the spot I took this picture is right about where the cell phone reception cuts out. From here, you are truly cut off from the world.
Deir Mar Moussa, taken from a nearby hill.
Lunch under the shaded tarp in the main part of the monastery. It was fine, simple fare: bread, salty cheese, crumbly goat's cheese, apricot jam, rice, olives, labneh (a sort of yogurt dip), and watermelon, all fresh. Most of the people there were Syrian pilgrims, I believe from Homs. The man in the khaki shirt is father Paolo, the Jesuit who runs the place. Not pictured is Boutros, the moody monk who takes care of day-to-day tasks. He spent the whole time glaring at pilgrims and being annoyed by their insufficient piety. A Syrian who frequently stays there told me, "if the hospitality of Mar Moussa depended on the moods of Boutros, nobody would ever come".
The main courtyard of the original, 13th century part of the structure.
Real books! The monastery has one of the only decent libraries in Syria. This alone made me want to stay for a week.
An archway in the chapel, painted with vivid, recently restored 13th century frescoes. "I want to get married here", was the first thing my friend said when I entered this chapel with her. It has a truly peaceful, warm feel to it. The chapel has several arches like this, each painted with a church martyr.
The altar from which mass is conducted. The church keeps an open communion, and its rituals are more or less catholic, but there are a few local trappings - such as sitting around on carpets, instead of on pews in rows.
The Universal Judgment, almost completely intact. This is mostly the section of people rotting in hell. The top row is people who divided the church, the second down is Muslims, and I believe the next is Jews. The explanation was given in Arabic, so I'm not 100% confident. Nonetheless, it's a spectacular fresco.
The monastery became famous because of its hospitality. Anyone - absolutely anyone - who comes to Mar Moussa and helps do a few chores is welcome to share their meals, their prayer services, and sleep in their dormitories nestled against the rocks. As a result, it's become popular not just among Syrian Christians on pilgrimage, but also foreign tourists. When I was there, there were a half dozen or so Syrians, a couple of foreign students my age, and a French woman who was staying there for a month while she tried to pick up some Arabic. Cosmopolitanism and pastorialism all in one spot. On my second day there, a pack of Saudi tourists even showed up. They were downright respectful, by the standards of Saudi tourists. Mar Moussa will do that to you.
Life there is laid-back, friendly. Lots of relaxing, snacking, chatting and meeting new people, hiking in the hills when the heat of day receded. People mingle randomly, everyone is friendly and glad to get a break from the stress and noise of the world. Paolo would periodically come out to chat with whoever was there: I noticed him using at least four languages fluently. After the din of Damascus, the near-total silence of the desert was like balm. I have a memory of having a long conversation - one of the first such conversations I managed to pull off in Arabic - with a pilgrim from Damascus. She explained to me that she wasn't really religious, but a freethinker who believed that all religions are basically retelling the same myth. I was thrilled that I could even understand her - I still have an open invitation to visit their family.
I remember the mass. It was in Arabic, in the old chapel, thick with incense and lit only by candles. We all sat on carpets and pillows and listened as Paolo spoke in Arabic about love and community. Afterwards, we went outside where, thanks to the new moon, I saw more stars than I have ever seen in my life. I've been to some very isolated places, but I'd never seen anything like it.
You really do forget the world while you're at Mar Moussa. I hope it continues to be a little oasis of calm for anyone who needs to step out of their lives, at least once in a while.
The Desert just outside of the town of Nabak, the closest civilization to Mar Moussa. The monastery is about 20km away from Nabak, and the spot I took this picture is right about where the cell phone reception cuts out. From here, you are truly cut off from the world.
Deir Mar Moussa, taken from a nearby hill.
Lunch under the shaded tarp in the main part of the monastery. It was fine, simple fare: bread, salty cheese, crumbly goat's cheese, apricot jam, rice, olives, labneh (a sort of yogurt dip), and watermelon, all fresh. Most of the people there were Syrian pilgrims, I believe from Homs. The man in the khaki shirt is father Paolo, the Jesuit who runs the place. Not pictured is Boutros, the moody monk who takes care of day-to-day tasks. He spent the whole time glaring at pilgrims and being annoyed by their insufficient piety. A Syrian who frequently stays there told me, "if the hospitality of Mar Moussa depended on the moods of Boutros, nobody would ever come".
The main courtyard of the original, 13th century part of the structure.
Real books! The monastery has one of the only decent libraries in Syria. This alone made me want to stay for a week.
An archway in the chapel, painted with vivid, recently restored 13th century frescoes. "I want to get married here", was the first thing my friend said when I entered this chapel with her. It has a truly peaceful, warm feel to it. The chapel has several arches like this, each painted with a church martyr.
The altar from which mass is conducted. The church keeps an open communion, and its rituals are more or less catholic, but there are a few local trappings - such as sitting around on carpets, instead of on pews in rows.
The Universal Judgment, almost completely intact. This is mostly the section of people rotting in hell. The top row is people who divided the church, the second down is Muslims, and I believe the next is Jews. The explanation was given in Arabic, so I'm not 100% confident. Nonetheless, it's a spectacular fresco.