After brief introductions to fellow travelers and staff, the only thing I can think to do is find a place to sit and write. I journal on a patio. I sit writing thoughts about my life, journey, desires. I am in a monastery that is 900 years old, overlooking the main trade route between Jerusalem and Damascus. My thoughts become quiet, silenced by the magnitude of my location, content to be still and absorb.
It is the same when I enter the presence of Padre Paulo. He came to this site 25 years ago as a young Jesuit, assigned to the middle east and interested in facilitating dialogue and harmony between Christianity and Islam. He is a tall and broad man. He wears a thick but trimmed beard. He is, presumably, older but his beard carries no grey and his wide back indicates great strength. He wears a grey tunic adored with a simple, leather belt. He is unmistakeably the sheppard of this flock. He leads the worship services, cooks the morning eggs, organizes the preparation of and cleaning after the meals, and engages the guests in deep discussion.
The second day of our visit Padre Paulo was kind enough to grant Andrew and I an interview. He told us of his plans for a new visitor center, summer work camps for children, and a book on creating harmony between Islam and Christianity to be published in 2009. He described the three priorities of the monastery...1) Spiritual life
2) Social Responsibility, including environmental awareness.
3) Hospitality, of which there was an abundant amount!
But more then all that, when asked what his purpose and mission are, he stresses prayer. Prayer is his vocation. The community at Deir Mar Musa prays together three times a day, for 2 hours, before every meal. I was able to participate in one evening service the first night we were there. In a small chapel, decorated with 900 year old frescoes, lit with 10 small candles, we prayed, read, and listened. The chapel was full, brimming with peaceful, calm, quiet divinity. The next morning as Andrew and I interviewed Padre Paulo, the chapel was similarly sacred. The padre leaned back against an ancient stone pillar to contemplate our questions. He closed his eyes, speaking to us with slow, steady words that held weight. He spoke lovingly of the Islamic Syrians who come to visit the Monastery. He spoke of Islam with great respect. He expounded on the importance of relationship in the creating of harmony between Christians and Muslims. He struck me as a most sincere man. As I sat listening to his ideas, I felt myself drawn into his vision. Finally, after several small interruptions from various staff members, it was clear he had duties to attend to. We thanked him repeatedly and allowed him to leave. I stayed in the chapel for a few moments, lingering in the holy atmosphere.
Deir Mar Musa was an island of quiet and calm. I am surprised by how powerfully I felt connected to the place. I am also shocked to find this place in the middle of Syria, but perhaps I shouldn't be. It was on the road to Damascus that Paul was converted. Christianity has a long history here and seems to be maintaining it's place quiet Well.
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