In an interview titled “Papal Message of Hope” Pope Tawadros II spoke on a variety of topics. His words were meant to give hope to both Copts and Egyptians. But to some Copts, specifically those who are not Egyptian, the words may give them reasons for concern. It is difficult to gauge in a statistically meaningful way the attitudes of non-Egyptian Copts. The best one can do is keep a close ear to representatives of various strains of thought and try to guess the views of the majority accordingly. Nearly a week after the interview, most American Copts seem not to view it favorably, and in the view of this observer for the wrong reasons. Historian Samuel Tadros noted that the Pope “seems to think of himself as an Egyptian leading an Egyptian church”, and in spite of his generally favorable view of Papal administrative decisions warned of a “theological crisis”. Tadros, as usual, cuts to the chase and finds Ethnocentric discourse by Copts to be problematic. He is right in an American and perhaps a universal context, but to Egyptian Copts who know that many fellow Egyptians wish to deny them liberty, or even life, the nationalist discourse is the lesser of two evils, the other being the Islamist discourse. Other Copts felt that the Pope did not highlight the suffering of Copts in Egypt and by insisting that terrorists aim to attack Egyptian unity, rather than just the Copts, is echoing the views of a government too inept to protect its citizens. They are right, but perhaps Pope Tawadros finds lessons to learn from the early confrontational years of the papacy of Pope Shenouda. The reality is that the world will not rush to defend persecuted Copts in Egypt beyond words of concern. The safety of Egyptian Copts lies with a difficult and negotiated dialog with a negligent and occasionally complicit state. To paraphrase a Russian peasant, the world opinion is very far away and the Egyptian state is uncomfortably close by. Non-Egyptian Copts have the benefit of personal and political freedom and a considerable megaphone, but these tools do not translate readily to power to persuade the Egyptian state. While it is true that the so-called Islamic State made it clear it targets Copts solely on the basis of their faith, even the most delusional foot soldiers do not believe that they can eradicate Copts one Church bombing at a time. What they seek is a sectarian conflict. In a real sense, Pope Tawadros is correct. The terrorists are targeting the Egyptian nation as a whole, however indirectly.
Two aspects of the interview stand as real concerns for this observer. First is his admiration for Putin. This is really uncalled for. But more importantly, there is Pope Tawadros’ attitude towards immigration. The Coptic Church has had three Popes since immigration began in earnest in the late 1960s. Pope Kyrillous would not hear of it. Pope Shenouda pretended it is not an issue, and for the first decade of his papacy outsourced the concerns of the immigrants to Bishop Samuel, who understood and even encouraged immigration and a reasoned level of assimilation. Pope Tawadros has yet to articulate a consistent attitude. Administratively, he has shown concern and respect for immigrant Copts. Privately, he expressed agreement with a more universalist message. But in this interview he seems to discourage immigration. Of course the reality is that for Copts who wish to immigrate, the real barrier is not his disapproval but the lack of a visa. Immigration and assimilation are a reality and will continue to be an ever-increasing a feature of what it means to be a Copt. There are difficult questions that the spiritual and cultural head of the Coptic Church must answer. Does being an Agnostic American disqualify one from identifying as a Copt? Can someone who is not ethnically Egyptian, or only partly so, identify as a Copt? Is the Church purely a theological expression of being a Copt, or does it have a cultural role for people long denied a culture of their own? If it is the former, then how can it be distinguished from other theologically similar denominations (such as Armenians for example)? If it is the latter, then what can it do to expand the figurative tent and accept differing social and personal views? The Church needs to look no further than to controversies that wrack the Jews about access to the Western Wall for evidence of the power of such concerns.
There are also questions that immigrant Copts and their descendants must answer. What exactly are Copts if concern for Egypt is not a major part of their patrimony? How are they different from the majority of Christians among whom they live and prosper? Even those who are not ethnically Egyptian but wish to identify as Copts need to have Egypt closer to their hearts, and develop a sensitivity to the difficult conditions under which the Church and the community operate there.
These are difficult questions and must be addressed if hope is beyond the merely aspirational.
— Maged Atiya
The immigrant’s first reading of Maurice Sendak’s “Where the Wild Things Are” was aloud to an eager child nearly two decades after arriving in America. It struck him immediately that the book, with a minor but critical tweak, could be made a tale of his immigration. The boy in the wolf suit, feeling constrained by his home rules, travels to a land far away. He runs with the Wild Things, roars like them, is terrified and thrilled by them. But in this tale he never becomes homesick, but grows even fonder of the place and stays.
Sometime in the late 1960s when Egypt was a far different place, a man came back from Canada where he had immigrated some years before to speak of his new home and its advantages. He first started by pointing out its flaws. It was devilishly cold at times. Aside from that, it was a great place; tolerant, prosperous, peaceful, decent and full of promise. But his excitement about Canada rose when he began to compare it to the United States. A visit to New York City convinced him that America is unfit for any Egyptians. The streets were patrolled by rats. A trip to experience the Metropolitan Museum was disrupted by the sight of youth cavorting near naked in the fountains in front of it; and even worse, the park behind it was the scene of sexual licentiousness set to music nearly indistinguishable from noise to his ears. The list of horrors grew until the speaker exhausted himself in describing the ills of America compared to Canada. One boy in the audience listened anxiously. His fear was that the account would persuade his parents to change the destination of their impending immigration from America to Canada. As luck would have it, they kept to the plan. It must be said that America lived up to the man’s account, and more. The “more” is a shorthand for all the freedom that America promises in exchange for its madness.
Every 4th of July is a time to celebrate American “exceptionalism”. What is exceptional is not always good or even desirable. What is desirable is often not exceptional, as others too wish it for themselves. What remains astounding about America is that is has survived its contradictions, even if at times it paid for them dearly. Sendak’s land of the “Wild Things” was meant to be eternal, a place of chaos and delight that manages to hold together and beckon to others. Most critics have seen the entire story as a psychological allegory. It may very well be. But so is America. It is a state of mind made actual by everyone’s participation in it. Its flaws are advertised in the most visible fashion and yet it continues to attract. Just to the north of it stands Canada as a reprimand to what America could have been if it had not unreasonably revolted against a relatively mild rule by England (by the standards of the time), and if it had not nearly immolated itself in a violent civil war fought for great ideals. But somehow against great odds the country continued to exist and expand its franchise of freedom. Somehow America brought order out of wildness, decency out of the basest feelings of many of its citizens, common prosperity out of individual selfishness, and reason out of madness. This is something to celebrate and feel uneasy about in equal measures.
— Maged Atiya
Copts have hundreds of liturgies throughout the year. Few are as moving as the Good Friday liturgies and one of its center pieces is a hymn called “Pek-ethronos” or “Your Throne”. The hymn is a single sentence from Psalm 45 “Your Throne, God, is Forever”. But the hymn typically lasts close to 20 minutes of praise on the darkest day of the Christian liturgical calendar. It is less a song than an audible play of opposites, death and resurrection, suffering and redemption, tragedy and joy, defeat and victory. Strange as it may sound to Western ears (Herodotus’ claim about the strangeness of the Egyptians comes to mind), to most Copts it is a full encapsulation of their history, which is hardly surprising. Except for its early history, and recent times, the Church encoded its theology in hymns and liturgies, rather than commit it to scholarly books. Such thoughts come to mind on hearing liturgies read for the first time in a new Church. This particular one, nearly the 250th Church in 50 years of immigration, is located the East Side of Manhattan, in the heart of the so-called “Silk Stocking District”. The genesis of that single Church is a reflection, writ small, of Christianity as it enters its third millenia.
The Church, a designated landmark, was built in 1886 for the prosperous burghers of German descent in what was rapidly becoming the home of the wealthy of New York, less than 3 square miles dense with museums, schools, cultural centers, Churches and elegant mansions and apartments. As new waves of immigrants came, the Church changed its character, becoming home to Irish and then Italian Catholics, as our “Lady of Peace” Church. Aging population and declining attendance forced the Catholic Church to merge the parish into another and lease the Church to the Copts, while negotiations are ongoing for outright purchase (on occasion involving both Pope Francis I and Tawadros II). All New York stories, as they say, are about real estate. The celebration of the Copts was a stark contrast to the previous image of the Church as a hushed place of worship sometimes sparsely attended by the older faithful. The Copts overflowed the pews with entire families, mostly young, many with children adding what the parish priest, Father Gregory, called the “sound, not of noise, but of growth”. But the deeper backstory to this small event is a large one, about the destinies of Eastern and Western Christianity, the differing threats they face, their changing relationship, and finally the fortunes of the Copts both in Egypt and outside it.
No Coptic Church event in America these days fails to reference the suffering of Egyptian Copts, especially those events that tell of the dynamism and good fortune of the American Church. The most recent instance was symbolized by seven killings and a funeral. The killings were brutal door-to-door murders that successfully removed all Copts from the North of Sinai. The funeral was that of the “Blind Sheikh”, a man who dedicated his life to hate and mayhem, first of his fellow Egyptians, Muslims but especially Copts, and finally Americans who had given him refuge in their country. He died in prison of old age, but his funeral in Egypt was a raucous celebration and chilling reminder of the hold his angry and murderous vision still has on many Egyptians. Meanwhile in the Church on the East side of Manhattan, the presiding Bishop, Anba David, gave the assembled throng a brief sketch of how this new Church came to be. His friendship with the Archbishop of New York, Cardinal Dolan, was forged two years ago in the aftermath of the horrific beheading of 21 Copts in Libya. The idea of obtaining a Catholic Church building for the use of Manhattan Copts germinated at a memorial service for the murdered men. In this case, the blood of the Martyrs was indeed the seed of the Church. Further assistance came from Pope Francis I, who waved aside the usual theological and historical differences between the Catholic and Orthodox rites to claim a unity and “ecumenism of blood”. It is possible to see the actions of Francis as that of a powerful Church lending support to a persecuted one. It is also possible to see it differently, that Francis wishes to revive his Church by reminding its members of the power of faith and hope as demonstrated by the persecuted Eastern Christians, as indeed he did by quoting the Coptic monk and theologian, Matta el Meskin (Matthew the Poor) to the Curia on December 22 2016.
The event at the Coptic Church ended with a short speech by an early immigrant, a member of the “Class of 1969”, who reminded those attending it of how, less than fifty years ago when liturgies were usually heard in private homes, this event would have seemed exceedingly unlikely. Those not attending it, however, can also use such a reminder. The 21th Century, still young, has already delivered plenty of carnage, hate and reasons to fear that established good orders are at risk from negligence, malice or indolence. As with the message of the Good Friday hymn, hope, however naive in the presence of adversity, remains the most potent force to overcome it.
— Maged Atiya
One day, millions of men will leave the Southern Hemisphere to go to the Northern Hemisphere. And they will not go there as friends. Because they will go there to conquer it. And they will conquer it with their sons. The wombs of our women will give us victory. Houari Boumediene
Many of the news stories about the tragic capsizing of a boat off the Northern coast of Egypt accurately described the passengers and victims as “migrants”. Increasingly the flow of human souls from the Near East and Africa represents more migration than immigration. The difference is vaster than the subtle phonetic differences. Migrants are pushed by local disturbances to seek work and survival in other lands, regardless of the land, as long as it welcomes them. Immigrants have a fixed destination and while they seek a “better” life, the definition of “better” is often broader than mere survival. For the lands that receive them the differences are also large and important.
Immigration carries with it the hope of integration, assimilation and acculturation. This process is rarely painless but almost always beneficial, for the immigrants and the societies that receive them. Migrants carry the hope of returning to their homelands once the emergencies subside or sufficient material wealth is accumulated. For them assimilation and acculturation are both highly undesirable, as they would render the migrants alien when they return to their homelands. Some changes are bound to occur, but invariably reluctantly and with psychic violence. Often the migrants stay well beyond their expectations. The compromises of the fathers are visited on the sons who remain the sole inhabitants of a cultural gulag, prisoners to their fathers’ dashed hopes of return, and eager to prove themselves to a world they have never inhabited and are wont to romanticize.
The current debate about “immigration” in Europe and America sometimes misses the point. The problem is not immigration but migration. If it can be ascertained that the new arrivals desire a final destination for their travels and a new start for their dreams, then we can be sure that, in time, they will weave themselves into the tapestry of the new land. But such matters are hard to discern and the lines between migrants and immigrants are often blurry. Some migrants are enchanted by their new lands and effectively turn into immigrants. Some immigrants may find the new land harsh and difficult and turn into migrants, or worse, exiles. Matters are made worse by leaders on all sides. Some package easy national solutions indistinguishable from simple bigotry. Others are unable to see that tolerance should not be extended to habits and ideas that burst the old lands into flames. But what to do, given that extremes have the loudest megaphones and with the most simplistic and easy to accept messages?
The answer, as always easier said than done, is to stem migration and encourage immigration. The first is done by stabilizing the lands disgorging themselves of migrants. Such stabilization is rarely easy, and is often thwarted by the usual conundrum of the better being the enemy of good. The dreams of “regime change”, often directed at the weakest regimes, out of necessity, are to be curbed and made subject to rigorous analysis of cost/benefits beyond simple outrage at the outrageous. The second is done by adherence to the bedrock values that have made many countries, especially in the West, a haven to the beleaguered. Chief among those values is tolerance. The root of that very word is Latin for “supporting” and “enduring”. This means that while accepting new immigrants we must assert that the values that opened the doors for them can not be subverted by any beliefs they bring along, and that we will work to see our values endure.
— Maged Atiya