In the Steps of St. Antoni, Part 2

Crosses on the way up to the cave

We stand atop the Red Sea mount, awed, the desert valley far below us and a cool, Saharan wind sweeping our faces and roaring in our ears. It was here, over 1700 years ago, that St. Antoni would have emerged from his cave and looked out over the arid vista to the north. He called this place home for over 40 years. That I am here now is nothing short of a miracle. Standing here, I am transfixed, silent and solemn. I sense the vast desert, and I feel all at once insignificant and a part of the arid world around me. I am aware of only the wind, the sand and the sky. Moments or minutes pass; I am uncertain which. At some point I slowly regain my senses, a dreamer awakening from slumber.

I am me again instead of a small quiet speck of desert.

Entrance to St. Antoni's cave

The entrance to St. Antoni's cave is not much more than a crack in the side of a sandstone mountain, the top of which looms above us. From the valley below, the entrance would be completely unnoticeable. It is perhaps two meters high and barely a shoulders' width wide. Even from our vantage point just a few meters away, the entrance looks sufficiently narrow to make me think twice about wriggling my way in. But I have struggled up 1200 or more steps to get here, and I have brought a flashlight along; might as well chance it.

Dana and I approach slowly, and as we do we can feel and smell the cooler air of the inside of the cave. Another member of our company decides to quickly temper her intense claustrophobia, and she hastily joins us. I get the sense that had she waited a couple of seconds longer, she would have chickened out. Two steps inside of the cave, and I have to crouch and shimmy my way past a smooth outcropping of sandstone that blocks our view of the passage ahead. Lonely Planet was right, this cave is for the svelte and non-claustrophobic.

St. Antoni's icon

Once we pass the sandstone outcropping, we need the flashlights. Dana and our friend are not too happy about this. Flashlights snapped on, we realize that there is a u-shaped set of stairs that leads down to the cave itself. I hear sounds of hesitation behind me. I sidestep down the stairs, but I still have to crouch in the tiny cave. The cave is crowded even for one person. Dirt floor and craggy walls, this was St. Antoni's home for a long stretch of time; unbelievable.

There are only two items inside the cave that speak of St. Antoni's long residence here. On one wall, a lovely enameled icon depicting the holy monk has been mounted into the sandstone. There is a locked reliquary set into the opposite wall. Aside from this, the cave is empty. Feeling cramped, we do not tarry as we did on the the perch outside of the cave. Despite the fact that this is where St. Antoni spent years and years praying in splendid solitude, the cramped confines of the cave do not lend themselves to evoking the sense of awe and mysticism we experienced outside.

Time to leave. 

We pass through the narrow passage in silence. The long trek down the metal-framed stairs likewise passes in near silence. The climb and the scenery are having a profound impact on us all, leaving us speechless for the most part. Father Rawais was correct, the experience at St. Antoni's cave has readied us for a tour of one of the oldest monasteries in the world.

Monks' cells, St. Antoni's Monastery

Photographs taken by Dana and Kyle Purpura

In the Steps of St. Antoni, Part 1

In the southwest portion of the Great Eastern Desert, almost halfway between Cairo's sprawl and Hurghada's seaside opulence, lies the Monastery of St. Antoni. Founded over 1700 years ago, this ancient place is one of the oldest monasteries in the world. The buildings and small plots of farmland that make up the monastery are nestled comfortably and safely within a crooked arm of the Red Sea Mountains. According to the traditions of the monks that reside in this oasis community, it is here, during the late period of the Roman occupation of Egypt, that St. Antoni gave away his lands and all of his possessions to lead a life of solitude, prayer and asceticism.

He lived in a small cave high up in the mountains, climbing down everyday day or two to replenish his water skins from one of the three fresh springs bubbling up in the nearby valley oasis. Presumably he also descended from his mountain perch to hunt and eat. After a few years, rumors of his holiness spread throughout the desert communities, and he began to attract a following. A monastic community was thus born in the oasis below Antoni's mountain cave. The community was one of the firsts of its kind, a precursor to the monastic communities that would become common throughout the Christian world.

Father Rawais Antoni

We are here on this hot, late September day, pilgrims of sorts, hoping to walk in Antoni's steps; to experience just a little of a life of monastic seclusion in the majestic panorama that is Egypt's Eastern Desert. We are greeted by the venerable Father Rawais Antoni. White beard and black robes flowing, he meets us at the great gate in front of the monastery, and he suggests that we first climb the 1200 or so steps to visit the cave where Antoni spent more than 40 years of his life. After this struggle to get up to the cave, he says, we should then be ready to tour the monastery below.

We travel to the base of a nearby, rocky mountain. Pausing in the heat of a direct, Saharan sun, we survey the metal-framed stairway zigzagging up the side of the mountain and ending in cement perch hundreds of meters above us. This will be a long and sweaty climb.

Steps leading to St. Antoni's cave

And it is.

Twenty years or so ago, I would have reveled in this kind of thing. Trudging up a thousand steps on a hot, early afternoon was just the kind of challenge I would have liked when I was 27. Now that I am 47, out of shape and with a bad knee, the challenge seems more like survival. I am one of the oldest in the group, and I take my time, lagging behind the rest. Although the sun is scorchingly hot, a cool, desert breeze swirls around us, making the climb a little easier. 

During frequent rests, Dana and I stop to take in and photograph the scenery. The wild and empty expanse of the Eastern Desert opens up before us as we slowly climb higher and higher. Maybe it is the altitude or the steps, but the oasis and the broad, arid valley below make for a breathtaking sight. Along the way up and at odd intervals, I notice that past pilgrims have walked off of the path and onto nearby rocky outcroppings to "cairn" piles of rocks. Others have staked make-shift metal crosses into the unforgiving, stony ground. Crosses that have been here the longest now lean in a gravity-defying way just like many of the weary would-be pilgrims struggling and stooping to make this climb. 

The view from the halfway point

At three-quarters of the way up I stop, red-faced and huffing from the exertion. Discomfited, I am amazed by the thought that Antoni lived to be 105 years old and that he had to have made this climb every other day for over forty years. Being half this age and much better fed, I don't have much of an excuse. Divinely inspired, I force my way up the last few hundred steps.

I am not disappointed. Dana and I finally make it to the top of the stairs, walking out onto a cement stage that the monks have built just outside of Antoni's cave. We are 300 meters or so above the desert floor, and we are looking out over miles and miles of ochre, barren valleys and the dusky purple crags of distant ridges. Far below, the monastery looks like a small model made for some museum display in Cairo. Gusty Saharan winds carrying fine grains of sand roar in our ears, buffeting our clothing and covering us all in a fine layer of golden silt. We have to yell to make ourselves be heard, although conversation here is at a minimum. Most of us are perfectly content to stand in the solitude letting the desert wilderness consume all that we see and hear. 

It is a powerful and humbling experience.

The view from St. Antoni's cave

This week's photos taken by Dana and Kyle Purpura

Back in the news cycle (again)

Although Friday is the holy day of the week for Muslims, Friday protests against the military government here continue unabated. The protestors are a strange mixture. Some are conservative Muslims, many of them members of the Muslim Brotherhood, who want Egypt's first democratically elected president, Mohamed Morsi, released from jail and reinstalled. In early July, Morsi was removed from power by the Egyptian military, and he has been in jail awaiting trial on conspiracy charges since. Other protestors are liberal-minded Egyptians, usually students in their late teens and early twenties, who may or may not have been Morsi supporters but who want an end to military rule.

Since July there have been mass protests, many of them ironically culminating on a Friday, the holy day of the week throughout the Muslim world. When afternoon prayers end the mosques empty out, and the protests begin. With the speed of a superhero, a worshiper transforms into a street protestor in a couple of minutes; no phone booth needed.

Since August, when the military government cracked down on two camps of pro-Morsi and pro-democracy supporters and killed hundreds, the weekly Friday protests have been relatively tame and peaceful. Nonetheless, they have happened. It was only a matter of time until a particularly fervent group mustered up the courage to attempt to carry their street protest into the hermetically sealed Tahrir Square, the launch pad for the 2011 Revolution.

A large and boisterous group made such an attempt on the night of October 4th. They came with flags and banners, rocks and Molotov cocktails. They were met by police squads armed with tear gas cannisters and live ammunition. Four protestors died.

This coming Sunday is a holiday here in Egypt; Armed Forces Day. Given that not all Egyptians want to celebrate the role of the military in society right now, we are expecting more trouble this weekend and on into Monday. In two weeks the religious celebration of Eid begins, and many Egyptians will have the week off. Most will enjoy a huge feasts, dining with family and friends. Others will take to the streets. Protests will continue unabated. We are bracing ourselves - unfortunately - for another round of violence. 

Postscript (October 7, 2013): Sadly, 51 protestors were killed throughout Egypt on Armed Forces Day.