Day 10 – Monday 6th April 09 – Mar Mousa al-Habashi

I’m not out under the desert stars as I expected to be but lying in bed, writing by moonlight and trying to make sense of some contradictory emotions. We were up early to catch the bus with Gabe & Theresa's trip to the monastery at Mar Mousa. It was an hour's journey through a quite different kind of landscape with denuded hillsides, giant (and ugly) quarrying and occasional glimpses of hope in the form of modest conservation work here and there.

We arrived at the monastery entrance to find it is a long way from the actual monastery. A long winding path snaked up to the impressively impregnable monastery. I chatted to Gabe for much of the walk until he mentioned his guest Tom struggling to keep up. I had spoken to Tom on the coach – a doctor researching the effect of Uranium on the immune system. Tom was a big man and not as young as he once was so I guessed it could be a challenging walk. I had a walking pole which I hadn't unpacked so walked back down to see if Tom would like it. He was right on the edge of his limits but step by (hundreds of) step he eventually made it to the top. We were, naturally, late arriving so the others had all been already oriented. I didn't know where Terry, Matt or Tim were so went for a half hour walk up the wadi. It was deeply refreshing to hear silence and to see no sign of human activity but I was also aware that the others might be wondering where I was so felt I ought to get back quickly.

That feeling of never quite relaxing because I didn't know people's plans or expectations became a depressingly familiar theme. It was worsened by Terry and I being separated – being a monastery it is the custom for separate men and women's quarters - so there was not even the benefit of a joint base where we might discuss plans. I had been looking toward to the monastery visit for so long and spoken to my friends about my desire to have time on my own out in the desert, under the stars, yet my overriding memory was the tantalising frustration of being close to the possibility of peace but too busy worrying about the logistics to enjoy it.

Terry, Tim and I had a good walk up the wadi which I really enjoyed and the accomodation was a wonderful room for us three men, especially with the moonlight spilling in whilst I read to Tim by torchlight. Tim enjoyed the dogs and working out the pack order. Matthew was sleeping when I took Tim up for bed and he disappeared out early next morning without saying anything so I don't know what he enjoyed but I think it was peaceful for him and he liked the cheesemaking and Father Paolo (possibly in reverse order).

I missed Terry last night. It seemed strange to be apart in the same place but not to share the same room. She knew I wasn't relaxed but I didn't want it to spoil her time. If anything this could be a bit of special freedom for her since Tim was up in the men's quarters with me. I tried to send her a text to say ''don't worry, I'm enjoying the moonlight through the windows!" but there was no signal at all. Although the day gave me but little of what I had hoped for, the little I had was still important. Father Paulo rebuilt the monastery as part of a calling to bridge the Christian and Islamic cultures. We had the privilege of sitting in on an interview he gave Brian from the U.S. Catholic Today magazine. There were many things he spoke about and I would have liked to probe him further on some but one of the top 3 priorities he described was hospitality; a theme we often return to in our hopes and prayers about the house move. It seems strange, after the excitement of the chain linking together, to be still over here with life still ticking on. It feels unreal that there is a substantial amount of work to do and an unrecognisable life change coming up fast. It will affect work, family, friends, recreation and - we pray - opportunities for hospitality.

At some point between Father Paolo's talk and putting Tim to bed something changed for me. I still don't know what it was but the ingredients were diverse ranging from a sense of alienation (due to my poor language skills) through to a sense of exploitation (some guests playing the system for a free ride) and a sense of compromise - that the professed goal of the place (Muslim and Christian unity) would be achieved only through compromising the authenticity of each.

Father Paolo was clear that the distinctiveness of each was the gift to the other. But that didn't stop the shadow of doubt and the sense that the humility that comes from a whole hearted giving of oneself to God might do more for both unity and humanity than the quest for unity and humanity itself. However, when people ‘wholeheartedly give themselves to God’ it is sometimes accompanied by the desire to control others rather than serve them. When people grow old they often become more extreme forms of what they were when they were younger. The wingeing become cantankerous; the gentle become wise and gracious. Sometimes religious fervour can have the same effect on people. It might explain the differences between a Cromwell and a Francis of Assisi; both claiming the same inspiration but going about it in different ways.

However, much seems to depend on the direction of the influence. Those who take themselves before God to change the world are more unpredictable than those who take themselves before God to be changed. I hope the fullness of time will place me in the latter category, though there are plenty of things in the world I would be happy to see changed and plenty of opinions I could muster about them.