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“Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the Devil.” Mark 4:1 John Cassian, an ascetic monk and writer of the fourth and fifth centuries, spent time in the Egyptian desert transmitting the stories and experiences of Egyptian monasticism to the West. [1]  His writings, composed in Latin, were quickly translated into Greek to reach an even wider audience. Specifically, some of the stories from his writings were included in the well-known  Apophthegmata , known as the Sayings of the Desert Fathers . [2]  This personality of the early Church relayed eyewitness accounts of the monastic life in Scetis , of which very little was contemporaneously documented. [3]  John Cassian’s writings on the diabolical warfare experienced in early Egyptian monasticism introduced principles and concepts that relate to various struggles impacting the psychological health of many in today’s world. The Holy Scriptures are filled with accounts of demonic attacks on many individuals throughout the Old and New Testament, including the Lord Jesus Christ Himself. [4]  Specifically, the book of Job narrates a vivid diabolic attack that led to Job losing his family and possessions. [5]  Paul the Apostle also documented the demonic oppression that he experienced, stating that a “messenger of Satan” harassed him. [6] Diabolical warfare did not cease with the accounts of the Holy Scriptures, but rather was all the more witnessed, experienced, and documented in the lives of many Egyptian Desert Fathers and Mothers; not least in the writings of John Cassian. In discussing monastic diabolical warfare, one must first begin with the founder of traditional Egyptian Monasticism, Antony the Great. In the Life of Antony, written by Athanasius the Apostolic, [7]   demonic attacks and warfare were documented in great detail. Many severe attacks were experienced by Antony, [8]  beginning firstly with his thoughts; when this was to no avail, the demons then proceeded to attack the monk physically as well. [9]  Furthermore, in the Paradise of the Holy Fathers , [10] one finds other accounts of demonic attacks against many of the monks, specifically the solitary Evagrius. [11]  A contemporary of John Cassian, Evagrius [12]  was a monastic who also wrote extensively on the prayer life and wrote volumes outlining the various snares of the devil. [13]  It is this Evagrius whose demonology was an influence on the life and writings of John Cassian. Cassian’s writings were utilized by the Rule of Saint Benedict [14] in the West. [15] Evagrius laid the foundation of monastic writings which Cassian is said to have expounded, synthesized, and relayed to the West. Cassian mingled the teachings of the East with the spirit of the West, providing a practical approach and understanding to those who may have been naïve to or unfamiliar with the idea of diabolical warfare. [16]  Thus it is said that Evagrius deserves credit, albeit indirectly, for the spread of monasticism and monastic teaching in the West through the vessel that is John Cassian. [17]  Evagrius spoke in depth regarding the mysticism of diabolical warfare, including about demons and their interaction with humans, whereas Cassian spoke in more detail with regard to vices and the warfare between the flesh and spirit of the monk. [18]  This bridge — between the demonic and the inner struggle — was relayed in Cassian’s writings. Evagrius was therefore said to be of significance to monasticism in the West. [19]  Cassian’s further expansion on Evagrius’ demonology served as the foundation of the application of principles relevant to or arising from diabolical warfare to the inner struggles of the thoughts and emotions. This formed the basis for many of the psychological ideologies that were to be formalized thereafter. Cassian was born in the middle of the fourth century, and it is unclear where his birthplace was, though some believe it to have been Gaul (present day France). [20]  He spent time in Palestine and Egypt, the latter being where he famously wrote his monastic writings that were to be transmitted to the people of Gaul. [21]  One of his writings was written to Castor, a local bishop of the region, describing the monastic system of Egypt so that it might be imitated in the West. [22]  After his time as a monastic, Cassian became a disciple of John Chrysostom, who vouched for him to be sent to Rome after his deposition. [23]  Cassian and his friend Germanus, who journeyed with him on his monastic voyage, spent close to fifteen years in the Egyptian Desert, specifically in Scetis . [24]  It is during this time that Cassian wrote his two major literary eyewitness works of the Egyptian monastic life and struggle. John Cassian’s two main literary works are The Conferences of the Desert Fathers  and The Twelve Books on the Institutes of the Coenobia and the Remedies for the Eight Principal Faults . [25]  In both the Conferences  and the Institutes , eight spirits or principal faults, which represent the demonic attacks that plagued the Egyptian monks, are mentioned. The Conferences consist of counsels and dialogues of specific monks, whereas the Institutes present the specifics of monastic attire, life, and prayer. Not only did the Conferences  document the wisdom of the Egyptian ascetics, but it also infused references from the Scriptures into its teaching, including the patience of Job amidst the diabolical warfare that assailed him. [26]  This is significant because Job’s diabolical encounter emerges as an example to monastics in their duel with evil and of how to properly engage in it. [27]  In his dialogue with an elder named Serapion, Cassian documents the Eight Principal Faults  as “gluttony, fornication, avarice, [28]  anger, dejection, acedia, [29]  vain glory, and pride.” [30]  Although the Conferences  discusses these spirits amidst the counsels of the Egyptian monks, it is the Institutes  that discusses each of these demons in detail. [31] Of the eight principal spirits or faults, dejection and acedia most effectively link the monastic world with today’s psychological suffering. The spirit or demon of dejection is described as one that attacks at random, and prevents the monk from having gladness of heart. [32]  It makes the monk impatient and rough with the brethren and causes him to feel angry, crushing and overwhelming him with despair. [33]  Cassian also locates the origin of dejection as being from “previous anger” or a previous “lack of gain that has not been realized.” [34]  The monk isolates himself and no longer desires to engage in discourse with others, so that Cassian labels dejection the “gall of bitterness that is in possession of every corner of their heart.” [35] Interestingly, Cassian discusses how this demonic spirit is not necessarily a result of the actions of others, but actions of the self. Cassian elaborates that one in this state should not isolate himself, but rather continue to interact with his fellow monastic brethren. This in itself is a remedy against this spirit. [36]   The beginning of healing, according to Cassian, is correcting one’s faults, which leads the monk to find peace. In its extreme form, the demon of dejection can lead one to despair of salvation. This is the demon that led to Cain’s lack of repentance [37] and Judas’ suicide. [38]  However, Cassian goes on to discuss that some dejection is acceptable and therapeutic. This is the sorrow that leads an individual to penitence for sin. [39]  Finally, he ends the relevant chapter by noting that the way to terminate devilish dejection is spiritual meditation, and keeping the mind occupied with the hope of the future. In examining this chapter of Cassian’s work, clear symptoms emerge, as well as treatment modalities for what is considered depression in the modern world. In Book X of the Institutes , Cassian begins to describe accidie, or acedia, known as the “midday demon,” [40]  as Evagrius had also done, although in more detail in specific relation to the emotions. [41]  While similar to the demon of dejection, acedia consists of the added features of apathy, sluggishness, sloth, and irritability. In naming acedia the “midday demon,” Cassian posits that these demonic attacks often occur around the sixth hour and seize the monk. Carelessness and anxiousness are the main components of acedia, as well as frequent complaining. [42]  The monk looks anxiously and often sighs at his other brethren. There are also moments where he is idle and useless for spiritual work. Cassian notes that sometimes the midday demon can manifest in different forms: sometimes one may isolate more, and in other times one may become a busy-body and seek consolation from others — an action which Cassian describes as entanglement in secular business. [43]   Manual labor and work, Cassian suggests, are a good remedy to the midday demon of acedia. One suffering from this demon should employ the words of Paul the Apostle: “if anyone will not work, neither shall he eat.” [44]  Cassian speculates that the West is void of monasteries and monks specifically because of idleness and acedia. Acedia is, in his mind, a direct result of idleness: “a monk who works is attacked by one devil; but an idler is tormented by countless spirits.” [45]  Babai, one of the Syriac writers and Fathers, also mentions this demon when he states: “beware of the impulses of the body when it is at rest, and do not let evil thoughts take up residence in your heart.” [46]  Cassian concludes that manual work and direct confrontation of acedia will lead to healing. [47]  Fleeing from acedia only makes the demonic attack worse. Examining the demons of dejection and acedia, one sees Cassian describing elements of depression and anxiety through the lens of Egyptian monasticism well before these terms came to have clinical significance. Depression is medically known as Major Depressive Disorder. Criteria for this disorder include many similarities to the aforementioned symptoms of the demon of dejection: feelings of sadness, hopelessness, and emptiness are oftentimes subjectively relayed by individuals with depression; [48]  there is also a decreased interest in pleasure and interaction with others. [49]  The famous author William Styron says about depression: “the weather of depression is unmodulated, its light a brownout.” [50]  Cassian mentioned that the Egyptian monks suffering from dejection oftentimes isolated from their fellow brethren, and described symptoms very closely aligned with depression according to its modern interpretation. Moreover, as the origin of depression is sometimes linked to triggering and stressful events, [51]  Cassian similarly recognized that often, anger and the lack of accomplishing a goal can lead to the demon of dejection. Anger and failure are, after all, often linked to stressful situations in an individual’s life. Regrettably, the majority of suicides are committed by individuals with depression. [52]  The end result of the demon of dejection is salvific despair; Cassian calls to mind the suicide of Judas, comparatively. In Cassian’s works, the ways prescribed to combat the demon of dejection are similar to those used to treat today’s clinical depression. Cassian described interaction with the fellow monks and also encountering one’s faults directly as a treatment to this demonic attack. Likewise, in the field of psychiatry, cognitive therapy and behavioral therapy seek to aid the patient in recognizing self-inflicted negative thought patterns and addressing negative behaviors, respectively. Group therapy also enables individuals to interact with others who experience similar symptoms to provide a sense of camaraderie. This leads the individual to correct negative thoughts of the self and to become more functional and interactive with others in society. [53] Acedia is similar to depression, anxiety, or a combination of both. Generalized Anxiety Disorder is a chronic anxiety disorder which consists of excessive worry manifesting in various symptoms such as restlessness, fatigue, difficulty concentrating, and irritability. [54]  Cassian mentioned that acedia, the “midday demon,” often causes these symptoms. Sometimes the monk may isolate himself; other times he may frequently complain and be anxious. Often in anxiety and depression, one may be crippled and unable to interact socially. This leads them to a decrease in function in their everyday lives, an action identified also by Cassian in the monk struggling with this demon. Abba Moses tells Cassian that one must not flee from or suppress this demon, but rather to attack it straightaway. [55]  Likewise, in psychodynamic psychotherapy, the concept of repression is addressed. [56]  Repression is a defense mechanism utilized by many to avoid psychological distress by “keeping it away,” creating space between the emotion and the individual. [57]  But often, repression can worsen psychological distress and cause it to linger, and thus fails to correct the root cause of the illness. Essentially, Cassian writes that one must not use repression in fighting this demon, but to attack it head-on, and to utilize manual labor as a means to keep oneself busy. Here we see Cassian identifying psychological defense mechanisms that are yet to be fully defined during his time. It is through the behavioral therapy discussed above, in relation to dejection, that we see an individual being enabled to move from idleness to committing to a goal, such as manual or professional work, which can assist in the path to healing. It is clear, both through the therapy modalities discussed and in Cassian’s writings, that a commitment to a goal-oriented activity such as physical work can aid an individual by distracting from the anxious thoughts and feelings affecting them. In comparing the demonic to the psychological, one must realize that spiritual or demonic attacks do not necessarily equate to psychological suffering, and vice versa. The Holy Fathers made a distinction between illnesses caused by demons, and those that are from physiological or psychological origins. [58]  However, the problem of suffering and the goal of attaining healing is one and the same for both the diabolical and the psychological. In the Orthodox Church, this healing comes from Christ. [59] In the world of psychology, healing can come through various modalities, such as psychotherapy, medication, and psychosocial support. Although the definition of healing and the means by which to arrive at it may be different, the goal for the monk in Cassian’s writings, and for one struggling with mental illness, is healing. The battle of the thoughts, and spiritual-psychological attacks are not new occurrences. Even in modern monasticism, the attacks of the thoughts are evident, and can affect the monastic in his everyday struggle. [60]   Cassian provided to the West a unique view of the Egyptian desert. In relaying the struggles of, and demonic attacks encountered by, the monks, Cassian laid the foundations of the principle of overlap between mental health and spiritual health — an interaction that cannot be neglected. Whether today’s mental illnesses are caused by, either wholly or partially, the demonic attacks discussed by Cassian is a complex inquiry requiring further theological and psychological research. What is evidently clear, however, is that the monastic experience, possessing a deep anthropological and spiritual wisdom, ought not be divorced from contemporary social life, self-understanding, and approaches to psychological well-being. Indeed, if one wishes to delve deeper into understanding or treating illnesses such as depression or anxiety — or any other human ailment — they can look to the writings of the monastic fathers and find within them insights that deal with both physical and spiritual wellness in a thoroughly Christian manner. Those who struggle with depression or anxiety, for instance, have as an inspiration and cause of hope the example of the early monastic fathers, who identified, courageously combatted, and successfully overcame these demons by God’s grace and support, and early monastic writings, such as Cassian’s, which teach what the path of healing entails. In learning from the diabolical warfare experienced by the Egyptian monks, one can compare their struggle to these early ascetics and find in them a source of consolation and fellowship, potentially leading them to realize their own healing through the experience and wisdom of those who many centuries earlier, in the Egyptian Desert, suffered like them and emerged victorious over their suffering. — [1] Columba Stewart. Cassian the Monk . Oxford Studies in Historical Theology. New York: Oxford University Press.1998.5. [2]  Ibid . [3]  Ibid ., 9-10. Scetis is the desert that is located West of the Nile, the region is known today as Wadi al-Natrun. 9. [4] The Temptation of Christ in the Wilderness, for instance, is documented in the synoptic gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke. [5] Vincent Lampert. The Battle Against Satan and His Demons . Emmaus Road Publishing. 2020. 25. [6]  Ibid ., 26.  [7] Athanasius was the Bishop of Alexandria in 328 CE, and author of the Life of Antony. (Khaled Anatolius. Athanasius . The Early Church Fathers. New York: Routledge. 2004. 1, 24). [8] Athanasius and William A Clebsch . The Life of Antony and the Letter to Marcellinus . Translated by Robert C Gregg. The Classics of Western Spirituality. New York: Paulist Press. 1980. 34-36. [9]  Ibid . [10] According to translator E.A. Wallis Budge’s preface, the Paradise of the Fathers  was written by Palladius, Jerome, and also included the Life of Antony  which was written by Athanasius. Budge translated the Paradise of the Fathers  from Syriac. ( Paradise of the Holy Fathers Volume One : Preface, 11). [11] E.A. Wallis Budge. Paradise of the Holy Fathers Volume One and Two . St Shenouda Press: 2009. 217-219. [12] Evagrius was a fourth-century monk who was a disciple of Gregory of Nazianzus. After living in Jerusalem briefly, Evagrius then fled to the Egyptian desert and became a disciple of Ammonius and the two Macarii (Macarius the Great and Macarius the Alexandrian). Soon becoming a teacher, Evagrius was known in his documenting demonic attacks that encountered the monastics. (Evagrius. Talking Back: A Monastic Handbook for Combating Demons . Translated by David Brakke. Cistercian Studies Series, No. 229. Trappist, Ky.: Cistercian Publications, 2009. 3). [13] E.A. Wallis Budge . Paradise of the Holy Fathers : Volume One and Two. St Shenouda Press: 2009. 219. [14] The Rule of Saint Benedict was the monastic rule that was established in the West by Benedict. This system spread throughout Europe and draws upon the writings of John Cassian, Basil, and the Lives of the Fathers. (John Michael Talbot. Blessings of St. Benedict . Collegeville, Minnesota: Liturgical Press. 2011. IX). [15] Evagrius Pontikus . The Praktikos & Chapters on Prayer . Trans. and Introduction: John Eudes Bamberger. Cistercian Publications: 1972. Preface by J. Leclerq: XIV. [16] Evagrius, XIV. [17]  Ibid . [18] Evagrius . Talking Back: A Monastic Handbook for Combating Demons . Translated by David Brakke. Cistercian Studies Series, No. 229. Trappist, Ky.: Cistercian Publications, 2009. 6. [19] Evagrius Pontikus . The Praktikos & Chapters on Prayer . Trans. and Introduction: John Eudes Bamberger. Cistercian Publications: 1972. Preface by J. Leclerq: xiv. [20] Columba Stewart. Cassian the Monk . Oxford Studies in Historical Theology. New York: Oxford University Press. 1998. 4. [21]  Ibid ., 5. [22]  Ibid ., 5. [23]  Ibid ., 4.; John Chrysostom was Bishop of Constantinople and was deposed in a controversial synod known as the Synod of the Oak in the early fifth century. The controversy involved Theophilus of Alexandria and an Alexandrian following, as well as a group of Origenist monks from Nitria (Wendy Mayer, Pauline Allen, and John Chrysostom. John Chrysostom . The Early Church Fathers. Taylor and Francis Group. London: Routledge, 2000. doi:10.4324/9780203029039. 10). [24] Stewart, 8. [25] These two writings are known colloquially as the Conferences  and the Institutes , respectively, and will be written as such throughout the paper. [26] John Cassian. The Conferences of the Desert Fathers , trans. Rev. Edgar C.S. Gibson. Aeterna Press. 2015. Kindle. Chapter IX: 2000. [27] Christopher J. Kelly. Cassian's Conferences: Scriptural Interpretation and the Monastic Ideal . Ashgate New Critical Thinking in Religion, Theology, and Biblical Studies . London: Routledge. 2016. X. [28] Avarice is also known as the love of money. [29] Acedia is also known as accidie or listlessness. [30] John Cassian. The Conferences of the Desert Fathers , trans. Rev. Edgar C.S. Gibson. Aeterna Press. 2015. Kindle.1499. [31] Throughout his writings, Cassian interchangeably uses demons, vices, faults, and spirits as the same thing. As mentioned earlier in the paper, Cassian moved slightly away from utilizing foreign demonic references in order to try to be more practical and personal in his approach in relaying a cosmic reality in spiritually applicable ways. [32] John Cassian. The Twelve Books on the Institutes of the Coenobia and the Remedies for the Eight Principle Faults , trans. Rev. Edgar C.S. Gibson. Aeterna Press. 2015. Kindle. Book IX: Of the Spirit of Dejection: 2007. [33]  Ibid ., Chapter I: 2014. [34]  Ibid ., Chapter IV: 2030. [35]  Ibid . [36]  Ibid ., Chapter VII: 2046. [37]  Genesis 4:1-18 (OSB) [38]  Matthew 27:3-5 (OSB) [39] John Cassian. The Twelve Books on the Institutes of the Coenobia and the Remedies for the Eight Principle Faults , trans. Rev. Edgar C.S. Gibson. Aeterna Press. 2015. Kindle. Book IX: Of the Spirit of Dejection: Chapter X: 2007. [40] John Cassian . The Twelve Books on the Institutes of the Coenobia and the Remedies for the Eight Principle Faults , trans. Rev. Edgar C.S. Gibson. Aeterna Press. Kindle. 2015. Book X: Of the Spirit of Accidie: Chapter I: 2007. [41] Ryan Lamothe . “An Analysis of Acedia.” Pastoral Psychology 56 , no. 1 (2007) 15–30. doi:10.1007/s11089-007-0096-8. 17. [42] John Cassian. The Twelve Books on the Institutes of the Coenobia and the Remedies for the Eight Principle Faults , trans. Rev. Edgar C.S. Gibson. Aeterna Press. Kindle. 2015. Book X: Of the Spirit of Accidie: Chapter II: 2101. [43]  Ibid ., Book X: Of the Spirit of Accidie: Chapter 3: 2117.  [44]  II Thessalonians 3:10  (OSB) [45] John Cassian . The Twelve Books on the Institutes of the Coenobia and the Remedies for the Eight Principle Faults , trans. Rev. Edgar C.S. Gibson. Aeterna Press. Kindle. Book X: Of the Spirit of Accidie: Chapter XXIII: 2007. [46] Sebastian P. Brock. The Syriac Fathers on Prayer and the Spiritual Life . Kalamazoo, Mich: Cistercian Publications, 1987. Chapter VII: 151 [47] John Cassian . The Twelve Books on the Institutes of the Coenobia and the Remedies for the Eight Principle Faults , trans. Rev. Edgar C.S. Gibson. Aeterna Press. Kindle. Book X: Of the Spirit of Accidie: Chapter XXV: 2359. [48] B.J. Sadock. V. A. Sadock, & P. Ruiz. Kaplan & Sadock's Synopsis of Psychiatry: Behavioral Sciences/Clinical Psychiatry  (Eleventh edition.). Philadelphia: Wolters Kluwer. 2015. 357. [49]  Ibid . [50] William Styron . Darkness Visible: A Memoir of Madness . New York: Random House, 1990. 19. [51] Sadock, 354. [52] Sadock, 764. [53]  Ibid ., 372-373. [54]  Ibid ., 409. [55] John Cassian. The Twelve Books on the Institutes of the Coenobia and the Remedies for the Eight Principle Faults , trans. Rev. Edgar C.S. Gibson. Aeterna Press. Kindle. Book X: Of the Spirit of Accidie: Chapter XXV: 2359. [56] Nancy McWilliams . Psychoanalytic Diagnosis: Understanding Personality Structure in the Clinical Process . New York: The Guilford Press, Second Edition. 2011. Print. 127. [57] McWilliams, 127. [58] Razvan Brudiu. Human Suffering and Its Healing According to Jean-Claude Larchet . European Journal of Science and Theology , September 2012, Vol.8, Supplement 2, 284-285. [59]  Ibid ., 287. [60] Anna Smiljanic. Our Thoughts Determine Our Lives: The Life and Teachings of Elder Thaddeus of Vitovnica . Platina, CA: Saint Herman of Alaska Brotherhood, 2009. 29.  — Bibliography Primary Sources Athanasius, and William A Clebsch . The Life of Antony and the Letter to Marcellinus . Trans. Robert C Gregg. The Classics of Western Spirituality. New York: Paulist Press. 1980. Budge, Wallis. Paradise of the Holy Fathers Volume One and Two.  St Shenouda Press. 2009. Cassian, John. The Conferences of the Desert Fathers , trans. Rev. Edgar C.S. Gibson. Aeterna Press. 2015. Kindle. Cassian, John. The Twelve Books on the Institutes of the Coenobia and the Remedies for the Eight Principle Faults , trans. Rev. Edgar C.S. Gibson. Aeterna Press. 2015. Kindle. Evagrius. Talking Back: A Monastic Handbook for Combating Demons . Translated by David Brakke. Cistercian Studies Series, No. 229. Trappist, Ky.: Cistercian Publications. 2009. Ponticus, Evagrius. The Praktikos & Chapters on Prayer . Trans. John Eudes Bamberger. Cistercian Publications. 1972. Sadock, B. J., Sadock, V. A., & Ruiz, P. Kaplan & Sadock's Synopsis of Psychiatry: Behavioral Sciences/Clinical Psychiatry (Eleventh edition.). Philadelphia: Wolters Kluwer. 2015.   Secondary Sources Anatolios, Khaled. Athanasius . The Early Church Fathers. New York: Routledge. 2004. Brock, Sebastian P. The Syriac Fathers on Prayer and the Spiritual Life.  Kalamazoo, Mich: Cistercian Publications. 1987. Brudiu, Razvan. Human Suffering and Its Healing According to Jean-Claude Larchet . European Journal of Science and Theology,  September 2012. Vol.8, Supplement 2, 281-287. Jones, Christopher D. “The Problem of Acedia in Eastern Orthodox Morality.” Studies in Christian Ethics 33 . 2020. (3): 336–51. doi:10.1177/0953946819847652. Kelly, Christopher J. Cassian's Conferences: Scriptural Interpretation and the Monastic Ideal. Ashgate New Critical Thinking in Religion, Theology, and Biblical Studies.  London: Routledge. 2016. LaMothe, Ryan. “An Analysis of Acedia.” Pastoral Psychology 56, no. 1  (2007): 15–30. doi:10.1007/s11089-007-0096-8. Lampert, Vincent . The Battle Against Satan and His Demons . Emmaus Road Publishing 1468. Parkview Circle Steubenville, Ohio : 2020. Kindle. Mayer, Wendy, Pauline Allen, and John Chrysostom. John Chrysostom.  The Early Church Fathers. Taylor and Francis Group. London: Routledge, 2000. doi:10.4324/9780203029039. McWilliams, Nancy . Psychoanalytic Diagnosis: Understanding Personality Structure in the Clinical Process . New York: The Guilford Press, Second Edition. 2011. Print. Smiljanic, Anna (trans). Our Thoughts Determine Our Lives: The Life and Teachings of Elder Thaddeus of Vitovnica . Platina, CA: Saint Herman of Alaska Brotherhood. 2009. Stewart, Columba. Cassian the Monk . Oxford Studies in Historical Theology. New York: Oxford University Press. 1998. Styron, William. Darkness Visible: A Memoir of Madness . New York: Random House. 1990. Talbot, John Michael. Blessings of St. Benedict . Collegeville, Minnesota: Liturgical Press. 2011. — Abraham Ghattas is a Coptic Orthodox Christian who practices psychiatry in Houston, Texas. He holds a bachelor's degree in Psychology with a concentration in Behavioral Neuroscience, as well as a minor degree in Religious Studies from Purdue University. He received his DO medical degree from the Philadelphia College of Osteopathic Medicine. He is board certified in Psychiatry and works as a Staff Psychiatrist at Michael E. DeBakey VA Medical Center in Houston, TX. He is also on faculty at Baylor University College of Medicine as an Assistant Professor of Psychiatry. He is a member of the American Association of Christian Counselors, and holds a Certificate in Early Christian Studies from St. Athanasius and St. Cyril Theological School (ACTS) in California. He has lectured on Crisis Intervention and Trauma Counseling as part of the Family Ministry Program. He has also lectured on anxiety, depression, substance use, development, and the overlap of mental health and Orthodox spirituality to youth, adolescents, servants, adults, and parents. He enjoys spirituality, Philosophy, Patristics, Christology, and Church History. Cover Art: Lelio Orsi, The Temptation of St. Anthony, 1570s. DossPress.com  is a place for Christian men and women to collaborate for the sake of our common edification by sharing their written works. As we strive to uphold a standard of doctrinal and spiritual soundness in the articles shared, we note nonetheless that the thoughts expressed in each article remain the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect those of Doss Press.

His Grace Bishop Suriel Bishop of Melbourne, Australia and Professor at Pope Shenouda III Coptic Orthodox Theological Seminary, New Jersey, United States Thus far in our series,[1] we have examined in broad strokes the experience of the early Church, and particularly the “schools” of Alexandria, and that of a modern Coptic Orthodox religious educator and visionary, St. Habib Girgis, in our discussion of foundational considerations for theological education in the Coptic Orthodox Church. We turn now in our discourse to the Church today, applying herein what we have gleaned from our previous discussions in considering what challenges face the Coptic Church today, whether and how theological education factors into understanding, addressing, and overcoming those challenges, and what sound theological education might look like in practice in the Church today, particularly in the West. We have seen significant change in the last 50 years, with the rate of change increasing every decade. We now live in a volatile, uncertain, complex, and ambiguous world, and it is our duty therefore to equip ecclesial leaders with the proper training to enable them to lead the Church in this ever-changing landscape. In our parishes, we serve several generations concurrently, including Generation Y (those born between 1980 and 1995), Generation Zed, or Generation Z as it is called in America (those born between 1995 and 2010), and the latest generation, Generation Alpha (those born between 2010 and today). Today’s world is increasingly secular, with religion holding little place in mainstream society. Our people, particularly our young people, are radically challenged by Atheism, Secularism, and Relativism amongst others. How will we faithfully minister to them? How will we serve future generations? The need for high quality theological education is now even more pressing than it was in the twentieth century. The world is quite different today than it was in previous centuries, let alone in previous decades, particularly in the West. When we speak of theological education proper, we mean the formal preparation of our future priests, bishops, servants, missionaries, and Church leaders. In 2013, His Holiness Pope Tawadros II invited Fr. Dr. John Behr, the regis chair in humanities at the University of Aberdeen in Scotland, to a conference on theological education in Egypt to speak about theological education in the twenty-first century. Fr. John reminded us that we are not preparing our students for today’s world, but for tomorrow’s, and it is for this that we need to be equipping our people — again, not for today’s world, but for tomorrow’s. If our situation is difficult now, it will be even more difficult in the decades to come, and it is for this reason that we need to properly equip our people. We are facing an increasingly hostile environment. We must also remember that the general level of education in the Coptic community has skyrocketed. In fact, Generation Z is the most educated generation ever, with at least half of those born in that generation having University degrees, compared to a mere quarter of Generation X (those born between 1965 and 1980). The mind of the twenty-first-century person is very different from that of the twentieth-century person. Our young people are taught to think critically, question sources, and investigate rigorously. Studies of young people have shown that they are forming their own spirituality from influences in a heavily saturated media culture. Young people living in a secular society are subject to an “electronically conditioned global village culture that colors their view of religion itself and offers many alternative sources of meaning and values that can be incorporated into identity.”[2] The context in which ministry is happening today is vastly different from that of the family-centered, community-focused, and less secular world that existed in previous generations. Studies also show that “contemporary spirituality is individualistic, eclectic, subjective and secular, where little is drawn from the religious tradition, and scant affiliation is made with a specific community.”[3] Yes, these studies were not conducted on young Coptic Orthodox people, but it would be naive to think that our own data would be vastly different from this, especially as to second- and third-generation Copts in the West. How are we to face these challenges today, and the ones to come? Clergy, servants, and leaders must be equipped to serve in the times and cultures in which we live. We have clearly seen in our Church’s history what happens when there is an absence or lack of sound theological education. Is it enough for future clergy to be formed in Sunday School, Pre-Servants Training, and other parish ministries? Habib Girgis made the case for this at the beginning of the twentieth century. Does the current situation not beckon an even more pressing need? Perhaps the opportunity for widespread theological education was not feasible in the twentieth century Coptic Orthodox Church in the West due to many factors, such as the rapid foundation and immense expansion of Coptic communities there due to migration. Certainly all of the dedicated clergy, servants, and leaders who served the Church in the West with their blood, sweat, and tears did a magnificent job in engraining Coptic Orthodox life, spirituality, and identity amongst their children and the young people in their communities. These efforts met the needs of the Church in the twentieth century. How will we meet the needs of the Church in this twenty-first century? Our young people, as we have all seen in our ministry, differ from previous generations, and we are duty-bound to serve them faithfully, answer their questions thoroughly, and never sell them short. How can we do this without proper theological education? Habib Girgis faced many financial difficulties, which is understandable as the Church herself at that time faced many financial difficulties as a whole. These constraints prevented him from implementing a lasting legacy of theological education that comported to his vision — one that met or even exceeded international standards. I believe it is safe to say that the Coptic Orthodox Church in the West does not have these financial constraints today. We have been blessed with the resources to expand and build many churches and church buildings. Is it not now due time to focus on devoting financial resources to robust theological education, sending students to receive accredited degrees and awards so that they can teach, and sponsoring candidates for ordination to study before being ordained so that they have the time and resources to faithfully devote themselves to their own formation in order to then be able to properly form and educate their future congregants? We spend tens of millions of dollars on beautiful churches that can become museum pieces or meet a variety of similar fates if we do not learn from the rich legacy of the early Church and of Habib Girgis and turn our attention to theological education before it becomes too late. Perhaps some might oppose this attention to theological education and say that we should focus on the “pastoral” needs of the community. Is it either healthy or intellectually honest to pit pastoral care and academic or theological instruction against one another in this way? If pastoral ministry is the service of others, how can it be carried out, and that correctly, if it is not grounded in the fullness of the revelation of God? To so portray the pastoral and the educative is a false dichotomy. Both must go hand in hand in order for them to be founded upon a truly Apostolic foundation capable of soundly meeting the needs of others — needs that are not only spiritual or social, but also intellectual, theological, and dogmatic. Allow me to illustrate this using an example. Habib Girgis introduced Sunday Schools into the Coptic Orthodox Church at a time when religious education was lacking. He used the model developed in England in 1788 and modified by Protestants in America in the following century. As we have seen in the last 100 years, this initiative bore much fruit. Where can you find a Coptic Orthodox Church in the world without Sunday School today? In establishing the modern Sunday School movement, a key consideration was the viability of the movement — that is, being founded upon no recent underpinning, the emphasis was on providing a sustainable education where there had been none previously. However, the situation has now changed: teaching is now established in the Coptic Orthodox Church and the model of Christian education being employed therein now needs to be re-examined in light of today’s generational profile and a properly Orthodox understanding of education. Sunday School, which is a pastoral ministry, can only faithfully serve our children and youth in the twenty-first century if it is appropriately grounded theologically and culturally relevant to the demographic it seeks to serve. This is not a matter of curriculum or content, but one of approach. How do we as a Church understand the formation of the child, the teenager, and the young man and woman? Is this something that happens in the classroom pedagogically, or in the life of the Church experientially, or both? Such questions require rigorous study, investigation, and discussion, and these considerations represent an important component of the task of theological education in the Church today. Theological education is not the same as any other academic endeavor. We must remember that Theology is not some abstract discipline where we learn about God. We cannot set Theology amongst or as equivalent to all other academic disciplines. Such academic disciplines can be mastered through diligent study, teaching, investigation, and even experimentation. The same cannot be said of Theology, since it does not speak of God as those speak of any other subject, but, as the early Christians saw it, it is an affirmation of the divinity of the crucified and exalted Lord Jesus Christ. Theology is not merely some theoretical teaching about God, but as Didymus the Blind states, “it is a power, glory, and force that is able to perform great wonders.” Theology operates beyond intellectual reasoning and deduction. It can be said that Theology is primarily an encounter between God and the one who attempts to theologize. Theology is not simply an academic enterprise, as we have seen from our earlier discussion on the School of Alexandria. Theological education in the Alexandrine tradition was to disciple people to the Christian life. This emphasizes that the classroom and the altar are inseparable in theological education. The language of theology is not primarily developed in the classroom, but in prayer and worship — the whole liturgical life of the Church. This framework is expounded upon in the classroom or lecture theater and expressed practically in service or fieldwork. One may ask, “Why, then, do we need to have accredited theological institutions?” We cannot sell our students short. We must provide them with the highest caliber of teachers possible, and the most robust training and teaching they can have. The students we present and recommend for service in the Church, whether in the ministry of teaching or otherwise, will not only minister to those who have grown up in the Church, but also to people whose lives are radically challenged by Secularism, Atheism, and Relativism — all struggles we all, whether young or old, face every day in the West, and now increasingly even in the East. We must not forget that we are called to share the Gospel with others, especially in ways that they can appreciate and understand. Our understanding of the Faith must be at least as sophisticated as anything with which the world challenges us. Our people, especially the young, cannot be used to thinking in a critical manner at school and work, and then come to church to find that their questions are being answered unsatisfactorily or unconvincingly, or brushed aside, or dismissed. We must provide our people full and informed answers when we are asked a question — any question — and must in turn ensure that those who occupy positions of teaching in the Church receive the highest caliber of education in order to be able to competently and effectively carry out their ministry. This demands both integrity and accountability — indeed, integrity and accountability are among the most basic spiritual and educational principles — and practically requires that our educational programs are assessed by others who are both unbiased and well equipped to opine on their adequacy and robustness. This is realized through accreditation, where our educational institutions are regularly assessed by an impartial accrediting or governing body to ensure that those who teach are qualified to do so and have spent years dedicated to wrestling with their chosen areas of study and have been tested in both the methodology and content of their teaching and studies. Receiving accreditation means full recognition from the necessary disinterested bodies and being called to account by others who are properly qualified to ensure that we are acting with integrity in the education we provide our people. As part of theological education, it is incumbent upon our educational institutions to not only teach Patristics, Biblical Studies, Theology, Liturgics, Liturgical Theology, and languages, but also Religious Education, Youth Ministry, Parish Formation (the formation of a parish community), ministry to the sick and dying, Apologetics, Christian Counseling, Prison Ministry, and much more. To become able to do so, we must first promote and encourage scholarship among our people, including facilitating for them both the resources they need to dedicate their time and efforts to study and investigation with the spirit of discipleship as well as the appropriate infrastructural systems to ensure that they do not complete their studies only to be left with nowhere to serve or teach and no way to make a living, as St. Habib Girgis mentions, in his 1938 book on the history of the Seminary, regarding the 22 graduates of the Seminary who were left without work. It is not enough for the Christian educator to know facts; more than this, it is about a way of thinking — a methodology. Studying Theology at an Orthodox theological school is not like studying Theology at a secular university. It requires, and must require, the same intellectual rigor, but our teaching and study as Orthodox Christians must be driven by the theological vision itself. In late antiquity, education was viewed as Paideia, “a training that seeks, above all, formation. Formation examines the habits of the heart that constitute a good theologian. The focus is on identity rather than information: being a certain kind of person rather than knowing a specific body of knowledge.”[4] Seminaries “train professional leaders, people who will both ‘profess’ the Faith in fresh ways and function as professionals, i.e., display the skills and competencies appropriate to their calling. Church leaders today need what Church leaders have always needed — training in what theology is all about and training in how to do it on the ground.”[5] This is not only about having theological institutions, but also about respecting theological education as a Church. Asking: “What do those who have studied have to say to us as a Church?” This requires us to respect expertise more than mere experience. Just because someone has been serving, or served, in a particular church for a long time, or was a popular or respected servant in the Church, does not make that person an “expert” or imply that what that person taught or how that person conducted his or her service should necessarily be emulated or sustained. What should be considered is expertise, in order to allow the many voices in the Church to sing a beautiful symphony of sound Orthodoxy that is in line with the Biblical, Patristic, and Liturgical witness. I will conclude with a final point — one that was briefly mentioned in the first entry of this series. We must read carefully and wrestle with the ancient Christian texts, in order to allow the writers of antiquity to speak to us today. We must do so both by consulting accurate translations of the ancient sources and through the mouths of their modern readers. We must oblige our responsibility of academic honesty and have the courage to be accurate, precise, and specific in our research efforts. It is not enough to simply read the Fathers. Rather, the Fathers need to be studied in terms of both their content and context. We in the Church today face an ongoing struggle with many voices presenting opposing views on various important theological matters, such as salvation, Christology, the Holy Spirit, Original Sin, and many other points. These have been the subjects of contention for decades, both within our own Church and more broadly between Christian denominations, and the discussion becomes even more pertinent when it enters the sphere of ecumenical dialogue. We as a Church must be honest in examining our past, particularly the last century, to see if what was widely taught stands in line with the understanding of the Church Fathers as set forth in their writings. In doing so, we ought to respect academic integrity. We cannot sideline without adequate discussion and exploration those who have views that do not align with what is understood or recognized to be today’s mainstream thought. This must be done using the appropriate theological methodology — something that is best learned through proper theological education. Those before us in the twentieth century used the means and methods at their disposal in often challenging circumstances. It is now up to us to build on their efforts, even if it means reconsidering some of the teachings presented in the (recent) past in light of our understanding of the Church’s Theology as expressed through her Biblical, Patristic, and Liturgical witness properly understood. In doing so, we do not by any means question the piety or holiness of the lives of those whose teachings we may question. Rather, as a Church, we consider that Theology is not the work of individuals, but the work of the whole Church, and we must reflect and learn from our past. Will we sideline those who have studied and have, after sound study and rigorous examination, and with the necessary spiritual prerequisites, come to hold opinions that may not be considered mainstream today? Will we remain silent when clergymen or members of the laity preach doctrine that lacks any appropriate academic or theological rigor? According theological education its rightful place as a pillar in the Church protects us from those individuals who wish to render themselves self-proclaimed theologians, whether maliciously or not, especially when the various communication platforms available today make it easy to do so, particularly on social media. Let us take seriously the call to ministering in the West in the twenty-first century by valuing theological education. This is by all means achievable. All other major Christian denominations are found to do this; they require those whom they appoint as clergy, servants, and leaders to be adequately trained and educated. We too can do so, in the spirit of the Alexandrine tradition, which will surely include unique elements not present in Western approaches to theological education that will bring to light the depths of the riches of our two-thousand-year heritage. May the Lord guide the Coptic Orthodox Church in the West to raise theological education as a top priority in her ministry, to the salvation of many and the glory of God, to Whom be glory in His holy Church forever. Amen. — [1] See Part One — The Experience of the Early Church; Part Two — The Experience of St. Habib Girgis and the Coptic Orthodox Seminary. [2] Crawford, M.L. & Rossiter, G. M. (2006). Reasons for living: Education and young people’s search for meaning, identity and spirituality. Melbourne: Australian Council for Educational Research. [3] Michael Salib, A Multidimensional Understanding of Sunday School in the Coptic Orthodox Tradition, in Copts in Modernity, 257–269. [4] Martha E. Stortz, Re-Imagining Theological Education for the Twenty-First Century: “What Has Theological Ed to do with Higher Ed?”, in Dialog: A Journal of Theology, Volume 50, Number 4, Winter 2011, December, 373-379, at 373. [5] Id. at 375. — His Grace Bishop Suriel presently serves as a Professor at the Pope Shenouda III Coptic Orthodox Theological Seminary in New Jersey, United States. We are honored to announce that Season Two of His Grace Bishop Suriel’s podcast, Coffee with Bishop Suriel, is also coming soon! Subscribe to Coffee with Bishop Suriel to receive the latest news. DossPress.com is a place for Christian men and women to collaborate for the sake of our common edification by sharing their written works. As we strive to uphold a standard of doctrinal and spiritual soundness in the articles shared, we note nonetheless that the thoughts expressed in each article remain the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect those of Doss Press.

His Grace Bishop Suriel Bishop of Melbourne, Australia and Professor at Pope Shenouda III Coptic Orthodox Theological Seminary, New Jersey, United States Having briefly set forth, in Part One of this series, an overview of Christian education as it was carried out in the early Church, and particularly in the “schools” of Alexandria, let us now shift our focus to modern Coptic history, and specifically the work of St. Habib Girgis in theological education in the late nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Prior to embarking on that endeavor, however, it is important to note that little is known about the theological developments that arose in Egypt immediately following the Arab Conquest, and whatever we know today comes from the literary productions of isolated theologians of that period rather than from any consistent or uniform theological school of thought. The thirteenth century is considered by some scholars to be the “age” of Coptic Orthodox Theology and Dogmatics, which was followed by 300 years of silence in the field of Coptic Orthodox Theology. By the late Middle Ages, the situation in the Coptic Orthodox Church was quite dire. A seventeenth century German theologian and traveler describes his visit to a Sunday liturgy in the Coptic Orthodox Church, writing: “They [the Copts] do not keep or have preachers nor are those good priests suitable. Instead of the sermon, there is reading after the Gospel of a homily from a book called tafâsîr (explanations), taken from one of the Fathers, such as Basil, Chrysostom, Cyril, Theophilus, Abbot Bussi, and people of that sort. For some time, the Franciscans have been preaching in Arabic among the Copts, and as a result they have been converting Copts to Catholicism with their exemplary lifestyle.”[1] By the middle of the nineteenth century, historians note that many among the clergy, reflecting their social surroundings, were ignorant of and negligent in their religious duties. Coming from the lower classes of the community, these clergymen often made up for their previous probations either by misusing church property or selling their religious services. The Church, plagued with widespread ignorance, had then a bleak future and was under external threat from Western missionaries while facing constant internal struggles, with the educated lay people calling for reform. By this time, Protestant and Catholic missionaries were active in Egypt and began posing threats to Coptic identity, as they were generally far more theologically educated than the Coptic clergy of that time. Needless to say, the need for a clerical school to educate Coptic Orthodox clergymen in the Faith of the Church became particularly pressing under these dire conditions. The first attempt at establishing such a clerical school was the opening of a clerical college on January 13, 1875 during the papacy of Pope Cyril V.[2] This institution was enthusiastically hailed as a new incarnation of the ancient Catechetical School of Alexandria. However, few of the students — all monks from the monasteries — applied themselves to their studies, and the Seminary survived only a few months. By the end of the nineteenth century, the Coptic Orthodox Church was in all the more urgent need for a seminary for the formation of her priests. St. Habib Girgis comments: “Since religious service was among the most esteemed services to the Church and its position was the highest, this required, therefore, that pastors [الرعاة] be sufficiently prepared in the Orthodox faith. They needed to be especially cared for and to be chosen from among those with excellent qualifications, from the sons of the community generally. Various efforts and finances are also required for the sake of these pastors who will lead the community to the place of safety and for the benefit hoped for.”[3] Habib Girgis could not imagine a priest serving without the education necessary to equip him for such an important role. He understood how impossible it would be for any person to be employed in a profession or trade without having first undergone the necessary training; how much more important, then, was proper religious training for a priest who was responsible for the souls of people! He wrote: “But the Church cannot present to us true leaders, counselors, and reformers unless her leaders and pastors are specially trained to practice their lofty and critical roles. Who can be compared to them except those with similar critical positions in life? An engineer cannot take on this role without proper training in the faculty of engineering. The physician cannot be trusted over people’s bodies and souls unless he receives both theoretical and practical education in his faculty. The situation is similar also for a judge, lawyer, teacher, farmer, and mechanic, as well as others who are comparable… Hence, a religious pastor is not exempt from this, since a pastor, worthy of this title and worthy to be responsible for souls, needs to be educated in religious and secular subjects. But it is more important that [the priest] perfects the sacraments and characteristics of his profession than any of those other professions so that he may fulfill his obligations and carry out his burdens. In this way, he may transcend to a most eminent relationship with the eternal souls [he pastors].”[4] According to Habib Girgis, in the second half of the nineteenth century there was only one priest in all of Egypt who was both capable of preaching and well versed in the Orthodox faith: Hegumen Philotheos Ibrahim Baghdadi, who lived from 1837 until 1904. This historical background underscores the importance of the dedication ceremony that took place on November 29, 1893 — a date widely considered to be the official opening of the Coptic Orthodox Seminary in Cairo, which Habib Girgis considered to be the greatest success of Pope Cyril V. When the Seminary opened, it had no teacher of religion or theology. Its first dean, Yusuf Mankarios, would simply choose some religious books and hand them out to the students to read aloud in front of him. Students complained repeatedly to the Pope and to the Lay Community Council about the lack of proper theological instruction, but to no avail. This bizarre situation continued for four years and led many students to leave the Seminary. There was one attempt to rectify the situation: on January 13, 1896, the Lay Community Council appointed the  aforementioned Hegumen Philotheos, who was then quite elderly, to teach at the Seminary. Sadly, however, his tenure lasted only two weeks, after which he collapsed in class due to his old age and illness and would never return. Habib Girgis was one of 12 graduates of the great Coptic School who were chosen to be part of the first class of 40 students to enter the Seminary. Many of his cohorts dropped out because of lack of interest or academic ability, but Habib Girgis was a bright scholar who, given his academic prowess and exceptional talent, as well as the Seminary’s need for a capable teacher, was appointed by a special decree to teach religion on a temporary basis during his final year. He graduated shortly thereafter — the first to graduate from the newly re-established Seminary — and on May 8, 1898, having shown great potential and success as an instructor, he was promptly appointed to a full-time position at the Seminary, teaching Theology and Homiletics. Habib Girgis compared the relationship between the Seminary and the Coptic community to that between the heart and the body. He says, “for as the duty of the heart is to pump blood to the organs of the body, accordingly, from this spring, the spirit of teaching, guidance, and the transmission of the good news of salvation will spread among people.”[5] The mission of the Seminary was twofold: to teach Orthodox Theology and doctrine, and to form priests and preachers who would enlighten the other members of the Coptic community, both young and old. The first statutes for the Seminary were formulated in 1893, prescribed a five-year period of study, and listed the subjects to be taught. All were taught by foreigners, with the exception of Theology, which was to be taught, from the third year of coursework onwards, by a capable Orthodox priest. The statutes promulgated thereafter, in 1912, addressed numerous administrative matters: all students were required to live at the Seminary, sleeping in dormitories or large rooms, and it was only with special permission that a student could lodge outside the Seminary. Class sizes were capped at 25 students, and admission requirements included passing an entrance exam, presenting three letters of recommendation, including one from the prospective student’s diocesan bishop, a minimum age in practice — of 16 years old — and at least four years of elementary school education. Each applicant was required to undergo a medical examination and be physically fit, without blemish or physical deformity. Applicants were also required to nominate a sponsor — an individual who would vouch for the prospective student’s character, commitment to completing his studies, and willingness to be employed wherever the need arose and to continue in religious ministry following his completion of the Seminary’s curriculum. The statutes also extended to the lives of priests and teachers beyond the confines of the Seminary. For example, the Board could transfer a preacher from one place to another according to need and circumstance. Preachers were required to prepare for the Board an annual report of their ministry. Parish priests were only permitted to allow graduates of the Seminary to preach in their parishes, and had to obtain written permission from the Pope. The Seminary maintained a record of qualified preachers and each year announced the names of the new graduate preachers along with their places of ministry. These regulations served two purposes: they ensured that those who preached were properly trained and formed at the Seminary and preached according to the Coptic Orthodox Faith, and prevented followers of other religious denominations from infiltrating Coptic Orthodox parishes and preaching views and ideas that were not in accordance with Coptic Orthodox Theology. Such measures afforded the Coptic Orthodox community a layer of protection by ensuring that those who preached came from a reliable source approved by the Pope himself. When Habib Girgis was appointed dean of the Seminary in 1918, he inherited an institution with virtually no organizational structure, vision, or sense of direction. The curriculum was inadequate in many ways, particularly with regard to religious and theological education — the very purpose for which the Seminary had been established. Financial constraints led to friction between Habib Girgis and the Lay Community Council, and Habib Girgis felt stymied in his efforts to improve the Seminary’s infrastructure, increase faculty salaries, and meet daily running expenses, among several other concerns. As dean of the Seminary, Habib Girgis had his work cut out for him. He took on a monumental list of reforms under dire circumstances, embracing a task that might have discouraged even the most formidable and talented of educators. He described his love for the Seminary and his zeal for education and theological reform in strong metaphorical language, likening it to the shedding of blood, putting one’s life and spirit at its service, and the kindling of fire and hope in one’s heart. Amidst those financial difficulties, a committee presented a report in February 1927 which acknowledged the Seminary’s financial hardship and the economic crisis that the country at large was then facing, asking only for what was considered to be essential, fundamental, and practical. Acknowledging Habib Girgis’ great endeavors in developing the Seminary religiously, spiritually, and academically, the committee sought the support of the Patriarchate Church Council, the Lay Community Council, and the Pope to raise standards even further. The committee desired that all faculty be appropriately qualified, both academically and spiritually, with preference given to clerical school graduates who had completed the higher level coursework. This would entail transferring to other schools certain faculty members who were deemed unqualified to teach at the Seminary. The report also stressed the importance of having qualified lecturers, preferably chosen from among the higher level graduates of the Seminary, or from those holding higher diplomas from other Schools, Colleges, or Universities. The low salaries paid to local faculty affected their morale and gave them little incentive to improve their academic standards. Habib Girgis understood their predicament and made repeated requests for increased pay, to no avail. He wrote bitterly to the Patriarchate Church Council saying: “I have said that the moral state of the teachers is unacceptable and their spirits are low with pain and overburdened with hardships. How can a teacher work while his mind is disturbed and his soul is in pain and in a miserable state?”[6] Receiving meager wages, the existing lecturers showed little desire to develop their knowledge and skills and found no incentive to exert themselves to strive for academic excellence among their students. The report that was presented alongside the budget emphasized that the Seminary was the “spine” of the Coptic Church and the measure of its revival and refinement, and argued that the new proposed system would raise standards to a level suited to modern developments and circumstances. Despite all the work by the committee that had been expressly appointed by the Patriarchate Church Council, there was no immediate response. Habib Girgis followed up with a letter to the Council on May 31, 1927, after the academic year had ended, seeking a response so that improvements could begin at the start of the new academic year. Almost two months later, he received a hasty and brief reply requesting a report on the last academic year before the committee could look into the new curriculum. Both Habib Girgis and the committee must have been deeply frustrated by this apparent lack of interest from the very body that had demanded such a thorough inquiry and imposed such a stringent deadline. The reasons for the Patriarchate Church Council’s ambivalence are unclear; the most likely explanation is a lack of sufficient funds to implement their recommendations, although the Council may also have been attempting to exert its authority over the Seminary. Habib Girgis regularly wrote with sorrow to the Patriarchate Church Council about its lack of financial support. The following appeal is from 1929, but the sentiments expressed therein remain true throughout Habib Girgis’ career as dean: “This state has disadvantaged the welfare of the College and the welfare of education, and if this continues the situation will be worse. Who then will carry that responsibility? This, no doubt, is an injustice that no member of the council would accept, and since I have raised this complaint and have not had a response except that the budget does not allow for more, why then does the budget accommodate all [the Patriarchate’s] facilities, yet is only restrictive toward the Clerical School, which is more worthy than any other facility and should be given attention more than any other work?”[7] Habib Girgis appointed foreign lecturers to teach subjects for which no qualified Coptic Orthodox teachers could be found. For instance, in October 1928, he announced that the Seminary’s elite group of instructors of Theology, the humanities, and Law had been joined by the honorable Mr. John Leonard Wilson, who held a higher degree in Theology from Oxford University, to teach Philosophy of Religion. Habib Girgis understood that appointing a highly-credentialed scholar from Oxford would help raise both the academic standards and prestige of the Seminary. While he did not allow non-orthodox doctrine to be taught to his students, Habib Girgis looked beyond dogma to the other benefits that such a scholar could bring. In May 1942, Habib Girgis outlined the further refinement of the curriculum of the Seminary. He restructured the Seminary by dividing it into nine “streams,” or programs. There would now be only one level for the main course of study, which was primarily for those studying so as to receive ordination thereafter to the priesthood, requiring four years to complete. The Sunday School Teacher’s program would require three years of part-time study, comprising two lessons per week. The clerical program for ordained priests would also be part-time over a three-year period, but with six lessons per week, into which Habib Girgis proposed introducing the subject of Comparative Theology. Unfortunately, the 1942 plan only partially came to fruition due to a lack of funding. In 1946, Habib Girgis introduced further part-time study in the evenings for University graduates who were employed and still desired to serve as volunteers in their own parishes. Many leaders of Sunday Schools from Cairo and Giza enrolled in the Seminary at that time, although women were not admitted until October of 1959, nearly eight years after Habib Girgis’ death. Sadly, however, the Lay Community Council ordered the closure of this new Graduate Seminary during Habib Girgis’ last illness.[8] The Seminary still struggled to find qualified Coptic Orthodox faculty members to teach, eventually conceding that if no suitable Coptic Orthodox teacher could be found, a theological teacher might be recruited from another, preferably Orthodox, denomination. The depressingly low pay rates were still in place, even in 1948. The average teacher was earning only around 12 Egyptian Pounds per month. Girgis as dean was paid just over 40 Egyptian Pounds per month, while Cantor Mikhail Jirjis was earning less than four Egyptian Pounds per month to teach liturgical hymnology. There was also the continuing dilemma over whether to send students abroad to gain higher qualifications in western Seminaries and Universities. Habib Girgis struggled with this predicament throughout his career. In November 1945, the committee suggested that some of the Seminary's brighter graduates be sent abroad to study Hebrew and Greek, in order that they might, upon their return, replace foreign faculty members. It was also decided at this time to form an administrative committee for the Seminary consisting of three metropolitans chosen by the Holy Synod, three members of the organizing committee, the dean, and two members of the faculty. Its role would be to examine every nomination to the priesthood from across Egypt and present its recommendations to the Pope for his approval. Any ordination carried out in defiance of that system would be considered void. This move would bring an unprecedented degree of centralization to the Church and greater authority for the Pope. Habib Girgis wished only to ensure that those who had earned their qualifications at the Seminary would be ordained to the priesthood, and no one else. Whether this goal was achievable is open to question. The decree was followed to a great extent during the papacy of Pope Cyril VI but less closely thereafter. It is important to note that alongside his diligent work in theological education, Habib Girgis worked in parallel on expanding the work of Sunday Schools in the Coptic Orthodox Church. In fact, he based much of the work of Sunday Schools at the Seminary, which was a strategic move, as the Seminary was the heart of education in the Church and became an environment where Habib Girgis could test his ideas and theories on both faculty and students, with the Seminary also providing the right environment for the protection of pedagogical approaches, textbooks, and curricula. Having discussed the great work of Habib Girgis in the service of theological education in the Coptic Orthodox Church during his lifetime, the question now becomes whether he ultimately achieved his ambitions for the Coptic Orthodox Seminary. Because his work there was central to his mission of reforming the Coptic Orthodox Church and community, success or failure in that enterprise meant success or failure at broader reform. The verdict of history is not unanimous. In his 1938 book on the history of the Seminary, Habib Girgis observed that in the 45 years since its opening in 1893, the Seminary had produced a total of 320 graduates, two metropolitans, 209 priests, and 87 preachers and teachers (he did not mention the cantors), and acknowledged that 22 graduates were still without work. Many of the graduates had served the Church and the community in capacities other than the priesthood, such as by teaching Sunday School, leading youth groups, and joining Coptic Societies. Graduates of the Seminary had a profound influence on the Coptic Orthodox Church and community. Nonetheless, later in life, Habib Girgis soberly reflected on the Seminary's progress and said: “The Theological School was established half a century ago. It should have reached, by now, the standard of the finest Colleges. Regretfully, however, it did not receive the required support for its development. Instead, it spent most of its life in wasted struggle, fighting to survive and develop according to the weak means it possessed.”[9] The culmination of Habib Girgis’ work at the Seminary was its official recognition and accreditation in July 1948 by Egypt’s Minister of Education. The Minister recognized the qualification granted by the Coptic Orthodox Seminary as the equivalent of a four-year Bachelor’s degree. Nevertheless, the Seminary never reached the international standards to which Habib Girgis aspired. The prerequisites for admission remained low, as relatively few young Coptic men were interested in studying theology or pursuing a priestly calling — a vocation that enjoyed little prestige in the Coptic community at that time. Habib Girgis never achieved his ambition of an educated priesthood made up solely of men with a proper theological training from the Seminary. Although one can sense through his writings the bitterness he felt at the end of his life because his goals were not fully met, he is found in the same writings nonetheless hoping for a brighter future, one in which the next generation would carry on his legacy, recognize the central role that his educational reform policies would play in preserving Coptic identity, and assure a successful future for the Coptic community. Habib Girgis’ desire was that the Coptic Orthodox Seminary not only graduate priests, preachers, and teachers, but also reformers in every sense of the word.[10] In the life and decades-long service of Habib Girgis, we see that he was responding with singular care and concern to a pressing issue of his time — a desperate need for educated clergy, servants, and Church leaders who were able to ensure that the Coptic Orthodox faithful were fed true Orthodoxy in light of active western missionaries in Egypt. In the coming final entry in this series, we will reflect on the challenges we face today in the Coptic Orthodox Church, and examine, through applying the historical data we have discussed thus far, why the Coptic Orthodox Church is in equal if not even greater need for sound theological education today as she was at the time of St. Habib Girgis. — [1] Johann Michael Wansleben, Relazione dell Stato presente dell’Egitto, as translated in Anthony Alcock, Johann Michael Wansleben on the Coptic Church (2016), 7-8. [2] Pope Cyril V occupied the Throne of St. Mark from 1874 to 1927. He is the longest reigning patriarch in the history of the Coptic Church, having served as pope for 52 years, nine months and six days. [3] Habib Girgis, The Coptic Orthodox Theological College [4] Habib Girgis, “al-Madrasah al-Iklīrīkiyah: Māḍīhā wa-ḥāḍirhā wa-mustaqbalahā” [The Clerical School: Its Past, Present and Future], al-Karmah [The Vine] 9.9 (1923): 464 [5] Habib Girgis, “al-Madrasah al-Iklīrīkiyah,” al-Karmah 6.7 (1912): 307-8 [6] Habib Girgis, Handwritten letter from author to the Patriarchate’s Church Council, Patriarchal Archives, Coptic Orthodox Patriarchate, Cairo (21 February 1929): 4-6.2-4/33 [7] Ibid. [8] I believe this decision caused him to become paralyzed near the end of his life. [9] Habib Girgis, Practical Means Toward Coptic Reform, 82 [10] It is important to note that during this period, authors would at times use western writings as references. Even some of Habib Girgis’ works, especially those on the Sacraments, were influenced by Catholic writings. At times, Protestant Apologetics was used against Catholics and Catholic Apologetics against Protestants. While some efforts were made by certain individuals to translate selected patristic texts such as Yassa Abdelmassih, Murad Kamel, Yusuf Habib, and Fr. Markos Dawoud, it was not until the time of the bishop of education in 1962, that is, Bishop Shenouda (later Pope Shenouda III of blessed memory), and his writings and sermons, along with the publishing of the writings of Fr. Matthew the Poor and the work of the Center of Patristic Studies in Cairo, which started in 1979, that we begin to see a more widespread use of patristic texts. This begs the question: what were some of the main sources used during the first seven decades of the twentieth century, particularly the first half of the twentieth century? Fr. Markos Dawoud, for instance, spent most of his effort translating the works of F.B. Meyer and Matthew Henry from English into Arabic. This raises some serious questions about the formation of theological thinking in the Coptic Orthodox Church, particularly in the late nineteenth and early- to mid- twentieth centuries, which many see as a time of reform. These issues merit further study and extend beyond the scope of this introductory series. — His Grace Bishop Suriel presently serves as a Professor at the Pope Shenouda III Coptic Orthodox Theological Seminary in New Jersey, United States. We are honored to announce that Season Two of His Grace Bishop Suriel’s podcast, Coffee with Bishop Suriel, is also coming soon! Subscribe to Coffee with Bishop Suriel to receive the latest news. DossPress.com is a place for Christian men and women to collaborate for the sake of our common edification by sharing their written works. As we strive to uphold a standard of doctrinal and spiritual soundness in the articles shared, we note nonetheless that the thoughts expressed in each article remain the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect those of Doss Press.

While containing invaluable insights into the life of the patriarch and his dedication to his pastoral duties — insights that his more formal treatises cannot express — the Festal Letters of Athanasius of Alexandria remain a lesser-known work. Though many only survive until our day in fragments, these Letters, irrespective of their present completeness or condition, reveal personal reflections of the patriarch throughout the stages of his leadership of the Church in Egypt, as evidenced by his comments in them about his life in exile or other difficulties he encountered. Although the Letters occasionally document Athanasius’ personal responses to his situation, his primary responsibility was to inform the Church, through the Letters, regarding the dates for the celebration of Great Lent, Pascha, and the subsequent Feast of Pentecost. These announcements, from the See of Alexandria to the Christian world more generally, were part of a longstanding tradition begun by the third century and continuing under the formalization of the process at the Council of Nicaea.[1] Besides announcing the Feast dates, these annual letters to the faithful provided the bishops of Alexandria a platform from which to encourage their flock to a life of purity and holiness. In this paper, particular attention will be given to the recurring themes surrounding the Passover and its transformation into a Heavenly Banquet, as well as Athanasius’ exhortation to “keep the feast,” as he describes in his Festal Letters. In the style characteristic of Alexandrian theology, Athanasius repeats this powerful phrase — “keep the Feast” — throughout his Festal Letters, bringing to the fore the shadow of the Old Testament types brought to light and fulfilled in the life-giving suffering of the Lord Jesus Christ. Athanasius writes of the symbolic heavenly feast of the Christians: “For otherwise it is impossible to go up to Jerusalem and eat the Passover, unless we observe the fast of forty days.”[2] From this direct instruction, the seriousness of paying heed to the liturgical season is evident, and Athanasius uses his entire range of biblical understanding to communicate to the Church this urgent spiritual need. For Athanasius, the fasting period was an indispensable preparation without which the Feast could not be attained. In short, fasting is keeping the Feast, and true feasting is rejoicing in the presence of the Lord. Historical Background One of the issues discussed at the Council of Nicaea was the standardization of the dates for the Paschal Feast. The reasons given for the necessity of standardizing the calendar across the Christian world were twofold. First, the desire to separate the Christian celebration from the Jewish Passover; second, to promote unity across geographic regions by keeping the Feast on the same day. Constantine writes in a letter to those who were not present at the Council: “We ought not, therefore, to have anything in common with the Jews, for the Savior has shown us another way,”[3] and “[f]or what could be more beautiful and more desirable, than to see this festival, through which we receive the hope of immortality, celebrated by all with one accord, and in the same manner?”[4] While tensions persisted between the Churches of Rome and Alexandria on this point — of calculating the date of the Paschal Feast — this Canon of Nicaea was an attempt at unification.[5] By the first few centuries after the ascension of Christ, Alexandria had already long enjoyed a distinguished reputation as a renowned center of learning and scholarly pursuit; it was this Alexandrian erudition, particularly in mathematics and astronomy, that enabled the Egyptian Church to carry out this service — of calculating and communicating, through annual Festal letters, the accurate date of the Paschal Feast each year — for the benefit of the greater Christian community.[6] The earliest evidence of this annual announcement is a fragment attributed to Pope Dionysius[7] (enthroned 247-264 CE), though the hagiography of Pope Demetrius (enthroned 189-232 CE) suggests that the custom of announcing the Festal dates began as early as the late second century.[8] The three largest collections of Festal letters are from Athanasius, Theophilus, and Cyril, respectively.[9] The Athanasian letters are preserved in Coptic and Syriac, with other fragments extant in Greek and Armenian. Manuscripts of the epistles from Theophilus and Cyril exist in the aforementioned languages as well as Latin and Arabic,[10] demonstrating the wide circulation of these correspondences. Since the last of the known Festal letter manuscripts dates to the fourteenth century, it may have been that the Alexandrian Church continued to honor the Nicene directive to calculate and announce the dates for Lent and the Feast at least until the Middle Ages.[11] The practice of issuing Festal Letters was revived in the Coptic Church in the twentieth century, but with a changed scope given that the annual Feast dates had by then become easily calculable and the transmission of messages had become fairly instantaneous. Thus, in modern times, the Festal Letters of the Popes of the Coptic Orthodox Church represent greetings and exhortations on the Feasts of the Nativity and the Resurrection, and are publicly read in Coptic Orthodox Churches all over the world during the Divine Liturgies of the Feasts of the Nativity and Resurrection. As it has been with the use of Festal Letters in modern times, there was also much ongoing change in the way that the Christians of Alexandria kept the Feast during the time of Athanasius himself.[12] As the liturgical calendar developed over time, the Paschal Fast had gradually expanded from a period of three days’ abstinence to a six-day fasting period, while the Quartodeciman practice of celebrating the three-day Paschal Feast between the 14th of Nisan and 16th of Nisan, at the same time as the Jewish Passover, was abolished at Nicaea in favor of upholding the more prevalent tradition of celebrating the Feast on a Sunday.[13] The Forty-Day Fast, Great Lent, was also at some point appended to the Pascha Week, being counted as part of the Great Fast. As far as modern scholars can determine, this was the structure of Great Lent at Athanasius’ time. For David Brakke, the impetus for attaching the Paschal Fast to the forty-day period of Lent lay squarely with the Alexandrian patriarch.[14] However, as with many other questions regarding early Church practices, we may never be able to localize the precise time that Great Lent and Pascha became conjoined, recognizing in any case that the adoption of liturgical customs generally tended to arise gradually and originate in local practice. Nonetheless, by the time Athanasius penned his Festal Letters, the Churches at Rome and Jerusalem also celebrated a multi-week Lenten season preceding the Pascha, and it appears that the Church in Egypt also upheld the same standard.[15] Keeping the Feast Of all the feasts included within the Church Calendar, the Resurrection Feast is the definitive celebration of Christianity, when the initiated — the baptized believers — participate in God’s victory over death through the life-giving passion of His only-begotten Son. Paul the Apostle writes to the Corinthians of the effectiveness of the Resurrection for the salvation of mankind: “If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men the most pitiable. But now Christ is risen from the dead, and has become the first fruits of those who have fallen asleep” (1Cor 15:19-20). He continues that those “belonging to Christ” shall likewise be raised, and this salvation for humanity is God’s victory over death. We will repeatedly return to 1 Corinthians in our exploration of the Festal Letters as a focal point for Athanasius’ theological understanding and appreciation of the Feast of the Resurrection, particularly through Paul’s proclamation that “indeed Christ, our Passover, was sacrificed for us. Therefore let us keep the feast, not with old leaven, nor with the leaven of malice and wickedness, but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth” (1 Cor 5:7-8). While Athanasius is not the only early Church Father to connect this passage from the Pauline letters to the typology surrounding the Exodus narrative of the Passover,[16] he undoubtedly provides one of the most thorough treatments of these concepts, with over a quarter of his Festal Letters making reference to the transformation of the Jewish Passover into the redemptive Passion of Jesus Christ. As we read in the passage above from 1 Corinthians — that preparing for Passover requires purging the old leaven from our lives[17] — the Lenten Fast was this time of preparation and transformation. During this period, the Christian faithful strive to transform their earthly situation to reflect their eager anticipation of the heavenly Jerusalem; the Feast of the Resurrection, being the “Christian Passover,” is therefore a time for Christians to draw near to God and to partake of the spiritual food and drink of that Feast. For Athanasius, God is the giver of the Feast (Letter X), Christ is our guide to the Feast (Letter XIV), and He is the one who summons us to attend the Feast (Letter VI). Further, as Athanasius discusses in these three epistles, the Feast itself is continual worship of God, and our diligent participation in it gives way to the manifestation of virtue. Finally, for Athanasius, the Lenten period, though full of fasting and vigils, is also a time of thanksgiving and praise. In Letter XIV, he therefore explains that the Feast requires temperance: “Therefore, let us too, when we come to the feast, no longer (hasten) to the old shadows — for they have been accomplished — nor as if to ordinary feasts, but let us hasten as if to the Lord, for the feast is ready, not thinking of it as pleasure and enjoyment for the belly, but as a manifestation of virtue. For the pagans’ feasts are filled with gluttony and complete indolence because that is when they think they are celebrating a feast — when they are lazy — and that is when they perform works of perdition — when they feast.”[18] Passover Typology A typological interpretation of Passover in Exodus 12 first comes to us from Paul’s message in 1 Corinthians 5:7 and is found throughout Athanasius’ Festal Letters. At the heart of this typological interpretation of Passover is Christ as sacrifice. He takes the place of the lamb that protected the Hebrews from certain death, but not only this — Athanasius also describes, in Letter XLI, that God’s presence was with the Hebrews just as His presence is with the Christians in the Church: “But the Passover is proclaimed to us, so that we might remember the salvation that came during it, and it is completed through a lamb, without which there could be no Passover ... For it is not the blood of the lamb alone that hinders the destroyer and liberates the people from Egypt; rather it is the Word who was in the blood who accomplished these things.”[19] Thus, just as the Word was present in the lamb of the first Passover, the Word incarnate continues to be present as a source of thanksgiving in the bloodless Christian sacrifice. This offering of thanksgiving is not only giving additional attention to prayer, but it is a call to virtuosity of life and a promise from the people to fulfill the Law — indeed, keeping the command necessitates pious activity: “For [Moses] said, ‘[l]et the children of Israel celebrate the Passover,’ intending that, just as from a commandment, the action should be near to the word, while the word facilitates the action.”[20] By discussing the presence of God with His people in both the Old Testament and the new age, Athanasius turns the discussion to the posture of the people towards God: If God is in the Feast, how do we approach the Lamb? He writes: “Let us not proceed merely to the performance of the act of the feast, but as persons who are about to approach the divine Lamb and to touch the heavenly foods. Let us cleanse the hands and purify the body.”[21] However, it is not an outward cleansing, but an inward one that the devotional activity of the forty days seeks to achieve. For Athanasius, there is eternal import in this Feast along with its historical and typological aspects. The protection of the Israelites and the redemption of the Christians both point to the completion of salvation in the Parousia — the second coming of Christ — when the feast of God’s presence will be unending. In his Letters, Athanasius therefore discusses the Passover in four contexts: the deliverance of the Hebrews, the Last Supper of Christ with His disciples, the Christian Passover which the Church celebrates now, and the Heavenly Banquet prepared for the faithful. The symbolic meaning given to the actions of the Jews relates to the Christian attitude towards worship now, as well as the ultimate fulfillment of the union in heaven. For this reason, he writes, in his Letter XLV: “Just as all the old things were a type of the new things, present festival is a type of the joy above.”[22] In all four contexts, preparation precedes this heavenly union. There are numerous references to purging the old leaven and taking sustenance from the new, hearkening back to the passage from 1 Corinthians 5, signaling to the Christians that the Lenten Fast is the opportunity to prepare for the presence of the true Lamb. Athanasius therefore warns: “But the deceitful person and the one who is not pure of heart obtain nothing good ... Thus, Judas, although he thought that he observed the Passover, was alienated from ‘the upward call’ and the company of the apostles because he devised deceit against the Saviour. For the Law commanded that the Passover be eaten with care, but when he ate, he was caught by the devil.”[23] Without preparation and sincerity of purpose, the Feast becomes what Athanasius refers to in several letters as observation of the days without devotion. This can be contrasted with what awaits those who diligently prepare. For instance, in Letter XXVI Athanasius encourages the believers: “Let us walk in [these days] by preparing ourselves for the Lord and making straight his ways, as John said, by cleansing ourselves from all defilement and all sin, so that the Lord who commanded these things might come to us and dwell among us ... and walk among us and eat with us the Passover, while also promising us the true Passover and the joy in heaven with the saints.”[24] The Old Testament feast is thereby accomplished and transformed in the Christian Passover. Those who participate in the Christian Feast are therefore also awaiting the second transformation — of feasting in heaven with all the holy people of God. Preparing for the Feast with Spiritual Food and Drink With all this emphasis on eating the Passover as part of the Hebrews’ preparation for leaving Egypt and its tyranny, Athanasius does not neglect to turn his attention to the other types of eating that give physical reality to the Christian spiritual truth — that Christ is the bread of life and living water. His Festal Letter X was composed in the year 338 CE,[25] the year after Athanasius returned to Alexandria from his first exile; as such, the patriarch connects his trials with the Hebrews’ advancement through the wilderness, adding that by patience and the imitation of Christ there is victory for the faithful and virtuous. Athanasius discusses perseverance through adversity, writing: “In this same way those who suffer affliction temporarily in this place, after they have endured, pass over to the place of repose.”[26] He continues, in reference to the parable of Lazarus and the rich man: “Lazarus, on the other hand, after he had hungered for bread ground from wheat, in that place could find satisfaction with what is better than manna, the Lord who came down and said, ‘I am the bread that came down from heaven and gives life to human beings.’”[27] In crossing the Red Sea, the Hebrews were nourished by the lamb; on their journey through the wilderness, they were sustained by the manna from heaven. Again, there is a transference of this grace to Christians, who first receive redemption through the sacrifice of Christ and then abide in Him through continually receiving the blessed Eucharist. However, just as in Leviticus, where Moses warns that God will not accept all fasts and that the consequence for breaking His command is death, Athanasius distinguishes between the vices and virtues while likewise cautioning that we can eat in an unworthy manner. In Letter I, explaining that the virtuous soul will desire the food of the saints, he writes: “See, my brethren, how much a fast can do and how the law commands us to fast; for it is required that we fast not with the body alone, but also with the soul ... The two portions, the virtues and vices, are the soul’s foods, and it can eat the two foods and incline to either of the two, as it wills. For if it inclines toward the good, it will feed on the virtues: righteousness, temperance, continence, fortitude. As Paul says, ‘nourished on the word of truth,’ so too our Lord Jesus Christ being (so) nourished by these, said, ‘My food is to do the will of my Father who is in heaven’ ... And just as our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, because he is heavenly bread, was food for the saints, according to this (passage), ‘Unless you eat my flesh and drink my blood, you have no life in you.’”[28] Though lengthy, this passage is worth considering and meditating on for several reasons. It provides a concise example of Athanasius’ incarnational theology.[29] The human condition is that souls can choose to grow in either vice or virtue. The Lord Jesus Christ, being fully human, is also capable of making that choice, and always chooses the good. He always exercises Himself towards the good, which is fulfilling the will of God the Father. By our sanctification, through participating in His life, we also are empowered to feed on virtue. And so, we clearly see that for Athanasius, spiritual food is not about eating at all, but rather is about our imitation of Christ through godly action. Suffering trials with patience is indeed one path towards this goal, but even more than this is fasting — particularly, in the context of Athanasius’ Festal Letters generally, and the particular passage quoted above more specifically — Great Lent with purity, prayer, and charity will open the road to holiness even in the absence of external persecutions such as those Athanasius faced. Included within Athanasius’ imagery of several types of food, one can find many references to the living water or spiritual drink. In the same way that food for the soul can be either sinful or virtuous pursuits, Athanasius reinforces the role of choice with a quotation from Proverbs, connecting the call of Wisdom to the people with discipleship to the Lord Jesus Christ: “For sin too has its own peculiar bread of its death, to which it summons lovers of pleasure and senseless people, saying, ‘Take secret bread gladly, and sweet water of theft’ ... The Wisdom of God, that lover of human beings, prohibited these things.”[30] With this passage we see the link between sinful actions carried out in secret, and the exhortation to flee from what is secret, strange, and foreign to God. On the other hand, the saints will always thirst for the presence of God. Athanasius continues in Letter VII to link the Beatitudes — “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled” (Matt 5:6) — with the Lord Jesus’ address to the multitudes at the Feast of Tabernacles, when He said: “If anyone thirsts, let him come to Me and drink. He who believes in Me, as the Scripture has said, out of his heart will flow rivers of living water” (John 7:37). Athanasius continues this passage: “For this reason, his disciples, who believed, he continually fed with his words and made them live by the nearness of his divinity.”[31] Finally, from Athanasius’ Letter VII, the sanctification of the people is completed in the reception of the Faith and of Christ Himself in the Eucharist: “Not only here, my brethren, is the bread the food of the righteous ones, nor are only the saints on earth nourished by such bread and blood, but we eat it in heaven as well, for the Lord is the food even of all the exalted spirits and angels, and he is the joy of the entire heavenly host ... he promises those who persevere with him in his trials, saying, ‘I promise to you, as my Father promised to me, a kingdom, so that you may eat and drink at my table in my kingdom.’”[32] Like in Letter I, the patriarch subtly leads the people to the concept of deification,[33] equipping the faithful with knowledge of the redemptive action of abiding in Christ, who alone is capable of providing nourishment for all. It does not belong to a man to say that he can satisfy the needs of mankind, so Athanasius hearkens back to creation in Letter XLIV: “And in the way that a river from a spring once gave water to drink in paradise, now it is he who gives the same gift of the Spirit to all people ... To say this does not belong to a human being, but to a living God who truly bestows life and gives the Holy Spirit.”[34] The readers of Athanasius’ Letters were thus reminded that the Lord who created the world provides nourishment for all, and by giving His own body and blood became the heavenly feast for all: “But the Lord is with us, He who is the basis for the holy feast. Let us gather and cry out to the Lord like the saints, not with our lips but in the depths of our hearts.”[35] For Athanasius, keeping the feast consists of devotion to prayer and discipline, and being nourished by the Word of God. As the faithful move toward Him through their inclination towards virtue, He Himself can “walk among us and eat with us the Passover while also promising us the true Passover and the joy in heaven with the saints.”[36] Heavenly Banquet We have thus far considered the sacrifice of Jesus Christ as the Paschal lamb whose body and blood are the spiritual food and drink of the Eucharistic offering. Further, the Lenten period of fasting and ascetic practice is established as preparation for reconciliation and the unification with God. Without this period of preparation — typified by the Old Testament command to keep the Passover and New Testament invitation to be ready for the wedding feast — the believers will not be equipped for the heavenly banquet. In perfect adherence to Athanasius’ theology of sanctification, Orthodoxy of Christian understanding recognizes a dual movement between the believer and God. Through His Incarnation, God comes to humanity, and all humans are therefore called to respond by demonstrating, with purity of heart and a life of righteousness, that they are striving to move towards God, which gives Him the opportunity to fulfill His promise of inviting the faithful to His table in the kingdom of heaven. Athanasius teaches that the desired wedding garment is purity of mind and heart, just as he describes that the food and drink of the feast are the accumulation and manifestation of the virtues. He writes: “What follows, my beloved, is clear: Even we should accordingly come to such a feast, having clothed our minds not in filthy garments, but in pure ones. Indeed, we need for this purpose to clothe ourselves with our Lord Jesus, so that we might be able to celebrate the feast with him. And we are so clothed when we love virtue and are enemies to vice, when we practice continence and do away with licentiousness, when we embrace righteousness before injustice, when we honor sufficiency and are strong in mind, when we do not neglect the poor but open our doors to everyone, when we favor humility of mind and hate arrogance. For by these things in former times even Israel, after it had contended as if in a shadow, came to the feast.”[37] For Athanasius, adorning ourselves with holy deeds is like putting on the white wedding garment in preparation for the feast with the angels, as Athanasius repeatedly calls it, and moderation, soberness, charity, mercy, and humility are the garments of the saints. The children of Israel similarly prepared themselves to draw near to God, although now the shadows and types are brought to light and fulfillment. In Letter XXVIII, Athanasius repeats these themes, writing: “Having become victors over sin, let us similarly prepare ourselves with actions, so that we too might meet the one who comes and, having entered with him, partake of the immortal food and live eternally in the heavens.”[38] Within this context, it is apparent that Athanasius considers the Lenten Fast to be a feast of God’s presence. Although the Fast is a time of repentance and correction, it is also a time of increased thanksgiving. While we wait for the life of the coming age, Athanasius instructs his flock, we must celebrate in this life in anticipation of the next. “Therefore, my brethren, as we look forward to celebrating the feast of eternal joy in heaven, let us celebrate the feast now as well by rejoicing at all times, praying without ceasing, and giving thanks to the Lord in all circumstances,” the patriarch writes in a joyful epistle that followed his return to Alexandria after an absence of seven years.[39] The joy of the Lord and the feast of the heavenly banquet do not come before the trial, but rather these things are the reward for endurance and faithfulness. Athanasius elaborates in Letter XLI: “You are the ones who have endured with me in my trials ... Therefore, because we have now been summoned through the Gospel to this great and heavenly banquet, into that swept upper room, ‘let us cleanse ourselves.’”[40] In this way, Athanasius is clear that preparation is required for entering into the great feast of the Lord and that the consequences for negligence are dire. A Call to Diligence In Letter XXV, we receive both encouragement and a warning from the Church Father, who writes: “We will recline with the Lord, like his disciples, and take from the spiritual nourishment that he will provide for us, only if we eat and drink with him with perseverance and do not betray the truth through Jewish thoughts and myths, like the wretched Judas. For he became such because he did not eat the Passover reverently as is fitting.”[41] Though Athanasius spends a more significant portion of his Festal Letters in praise of good behavior, he also cautions in them specifically against observing the days merely for the sake of the days themselves and without a pious disposition, like the Jews, and assuming immoderate practices associated with pagan worship such as gluttony or drunkenness. In Letter VI, for instance, Athanasius describes how the Jewish people did not bear the fruits required by the master of the vineyard, writing: “Therefore, when the Lord cursed them because of their negligence, he removed from them the new moons.”[42] Earlier in this same epistle, Athanasius is clear that carelessness about the feast is not a problem only of the Jewish people, but rather Christians must also be thoughtful in their preparation to receive the feast. He therefore explicitly exhorts: “Whosoever is not disposed, treats the days as ordinary, and does not celebrate the feast, but ... finds fault with the grace and prefers to honor the days without supplicating the Lord who during these days saved [him] let him by all means listen ... to the apostolic voice that rebukes him: ‘You are observing days, and months, and seasons, and years. I am afraid that my work for you may have been wasted.’ For the feast does not exist on account of the days; rather, we celebrate the feast on account of the Lord, who suffered during them on our behalf.”[43] In Letter VI, Athanasius relies on three references from the Gospels to reinforce his point that God’s grace requires diligent action on the part of man — the parable of the vineyard, the healing of the ten lepers, and the parable of the talents. In each case, the patriarch is asking his flock to ready itself for the feasts of the angels and saints by fulfilling their duty, with thankfulness and to the best of their ability. Even in the case of negligence, however, there is repentance available for the sinner who comes to himself and returns to his father’s house. Athanasius posits the question of who is worthy of being invited to the Lord’s table in Letter VII, reflecting on the parable of the Prodigal Son. Following his examination of the confession of the son to his father, he writes: “then [the son] will be deemed worthy of more than what he requested, for the father does not receive him as a hired hand ... but kisses him as a son, gives him life as if from the dead, deems him worthy of the divine banquet, and gives him his former precious robe, so that on this account there is singing and joy in the paternal home.”[44] Through repentance, the son reckons with his internal conflict and his desperate external circumstances, and has victory through returning to his father’s care. While facing extraordinary hardship in his varied exiles, Athanasius simultaneously writes to the Christians of Alexandria to persevere. One example of the personal touch afforded to him by the format of the festal announcements is Letter XIII, wherein he writes: “Even now, my beloved brethren, I will not be slow to announce to you the saving feast ... For although those opponents of Christ have oppressed you, along with us, with afflictions and sorrows ... because God is comforting us through our mutual faith, behold I write to you even from Rome. Even as I am celebrating the feast with the brethren here, I am celebrating in will and spirit with you as well, for we send up prayers in common to God, who has granted us not only to believe in him, but also now to suffer for him.”[45] Athanasius uses the announcement for this year 341 CE to encourage and strengthen his people, reminding them that the trial is temporary and the joy that awaits is eternal: “When we are tested by these things, therefore, let us not be separated from the love of God, but let us celebrate the feast even now, my beloved, not as if we are bringing in a day of suffering, but one of joy for Christ, by whom we are nourished every day.”[46] The patriarch asks the faithful not only to patiently endure, but also to be joyful and thrive in the feast, knowing that Christ our true Passover suffered for the sake of all mankind. Likewise in Letter III, for the Lent of year 342 CE, also during a time of extended exile and absence from Alexandria: “For the one who serves the Lord ought to be diligent and not careless or, rather, (ought to be) inflamed, so that, after he has destroyed all material sin with an ardent spirit, he may be able to approach God.”[47] He continues by pointing to Moses as an example of an ardent spirit purified by the devouring fire of God. Athanasius quotes the Apostle, writing: “Therefore the blessed Paul, because he does not let the grace of the Spirit that has been given to us to grow cold, exhorts, writing, ‘Do not quench the Spirit.’ For this is how we will remain partakers of Christ — if we hold fast until the end the Spirit (that was given) at the beginning.”[48] Once again, we discover Athanasius’ teaching about sanctification and man’s participation in his own salvation in an indirect way; the struggle towards purity requires conscientious action with fiery, unrelenting perseverance, as described in this Letter. Indeed, by the Christians’ observation of the feast with gladness and thanksgiving, the world will see that Christians are imitators of Christ and be amazed, according to Athanasius. In the following passage, Athanasius reveals that a consequence of the personal sanctification of putting on Christ is that the Christian feast will be a transformative light — an example of holy, sober joy: “The Lord’s wise servants, however, who have truly clothed themselves with the human being who has been created in God, have become recipients of the evangelical words ... ‘Set the believers an example in speech and conduct, in love, in faith, in purity.’ They celebrate the feast in such a proper manner that even the unbelievers, when they ‘see their good order,’ will say, ‘God is really among them.’”[49] Athanasius layers the transformation of the Passover from a shadow only available to the Hebrews to the light of Christ’s redemptive sacrifice available to all and visible by all. Although this feast is marked by the forty days of Lenten fasting and is a time of temperance and self-regulation, it ultimately will be further elevated to the heavenly banquet of the kingdom of God and the redemption of all creation. Regarding this reconciliation of the heavenly and earthly, Athanasius writes: “The entire creation keeps the feast, my brethren ... on account of the enemies’ destruction, and of our salvation. And rightly so: For if there is joy in heaven over one sinner who repents, what would there not be over the abolition of sin and the resurrection of the dead? What a feast! And how great heaven’s joy!”[50] — [1] Athanasius, The Festal Letters of Athanasius of Alexandria, with the Festal Index and the Historia Acephala. Translated by David Brakke and David M. Gwynn. (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press), 18. [2] Athanasius, The Festal Letters, 89. [3] Schaff, Philip, and Henry Wace. A Select Library of Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church. Vol. 14 Second Series. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1983), 56. [4] Schaff, Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers. Vol. 14, 55. [5] Ibid, 55. [6] Allen, Pauline.  “The Festal Letters of the Patriarchs of Alexandria: Evidence for Social History in the Fourth and Fifth Centuries.” In Alexandrian Legacy: A Critical Appraisal, ed. Doru Costache, Philip Kariatlis, and Mario Baghos.  (Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2015), 174. [7] Athanasius, The Festal Letters, 19. [8] Mikhail, Maged S.A. “The Evolution of Lent in Alexandria and the Alleged Reforms of Patriarch Demetrius” In Copts in Context: Negotiating Identity, Tradition and Modernity, ed. Nelly van Doorn-Harder (South Carolina: University of South Carolina Press, 2017), 169-180, 252-258. [9] Allen, 174. [10] Ibid, 175. Certainly the Arabic Letters represent later translations and could not have arisen contemporaneously to the Letters’ authorship. [11] Athanasius, The Festal Letters, 21. [12] Bradshaw, Paul F, and Maxwell E Johnson. The Origins of Feasts, Fasts, and Seasons in Early Christianity. Alcuin Club Collections, 86. London: SPCK, 2011. [13] See The Synodal Letter of Nicaea. [14] Brakke, David. Athanasius and the Politics of Asceticism. Oxford Early Christian Studies. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1995. [15] Bradshaw, Paul and Maxwell Johnson, 92. Whether the Christians in Egypt fell short of the standard practice as it was carried out in the other Churches in Athanasius’ time, and whether such shortcoming, if extant, was a matter of official practice of spiritual laxity, remains an open question, with the question arising in part from St. Athanasius’ comment, in Letter XII, that “[t]he Egyptians were made a laughing-stock because they, of all the world, did not fast during the forty days before Pascha.” In this Letter, Athanasius writes to Serapion, bishop of Thmuis, from Rome, in 340 A.D., imploring the Egyptian Christians to fast all forty days of Lent, as the Christians did in Rome. Athanasius’ Festal Letters generally paint the picture of a Great Lent composed of six weeks before the Feast of the Resurrection, with Saturdays and Sundays not being considered fast days​, although the dietary practice of the Fast was upheld on those days, in light of abstinence being forbidden on all Saturdays and Sundays of the year, with the exception of Paschal Saturday. [16] Other patristic writers that make the connection between the Exodus narrative and the Resurrection Feast include Melito of Sardis in On Pascha and Origen in Homilies on Leviticus. [17] Of note is that one of the two Pauline Epistle passages read during Paschal Saturday, or Apocalypse Saturday, in the Coptic Orthodox Church is excerpted from 1 Corinthians 5:7-13, beginning: “Therefore purge out the old leaven, that you may be a new lump, since you truly are unleavened. For indeed Christ, our Passover, was sacrificed for us. Therefore let us keep the feast, not with old leaven, nor with the leaven of malice and wickedness, but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth” (1 Corinthians 5:7-8). [18] Athanasius, The Festal Letters, 67. [19] Ibid, 211. [20] Ibid, 64. [21] Ibid, 78. [22] Ibid, 230. [23] Ibid, 88. [24] Ibid, 185. [25] Ibid, 107. [26] Ibid, 113. [27] Ibid, 113. [28] Ibid, 51. [29] For further discussion see Wahba, Matthias F.  The Doctrine of Sanctification in St. Athanasius’ Paschal Letters. Cranston, Rhode Island: St. Mary & St. Mena Coptic Orthodox Church, 1988.  Also to examine how this theological stance continued to be delivered through the Festal Letters, see Morgan, Jonathan. “The Role of Asceticism in Deification in Cyril of Alexandria’s Festal Letters.” The Downside Review 135, no. 3 (2017): 144–53. [30] Athanasius, The Festal Letters, 95. [31] Ibid, 97. [32] Ibid, 98. [33] Deification in the Athanasian and, more generally, the Alexandrian tradition, is in reference to the natural receipt of the perfected believers of the attributes of immortality and incorruptibility, which attributes are God’s alone by nature, but which He grants to those who have a share in the resurrection to life at the last day. The notion in the early patristic Fathers is far removed from the later developments of the concept that arose in the West. [34] Athanasius, The Festal Letters, 229. [35] Ibid, 185. [36] Ibid, 185. [37] Ibid, 71. [38] Ibid, 192. [39] Ibid, 167. [40] Ibid, 213. [41] Ibid, 182. [42] Ibid, 85. [43] Ibid, 81. [44] Ibid, 99. [45] Ibid, 137. [46] Ibid, 143. [47] Ibid, 147. [48] Ibid, 147. [49] Ibid, 177. [50] Ibid, 87. — Bibliography Primary Sources Athanasius. The Festal Letters of Athanasius of Alexandria, with the Festal Index and the Historia Acephala. Translated by David Brakke and David M. Gwynn. (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2022) Athanasius. Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church. Edited by Philip Schaff and Henry Wace. Vol. IV. (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 1998) Eusebius of Caesarea. The History of the Church: A New Translation. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2019. Schaff, Philip, and Henry Wace. A Select Library of Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church. Vol. 14 Second Series.  (Grand Rapids.: Eerdmans, 1983) Secondary Sources Allen, Pauline.  “The Festal Letters of the Patriarchs of Alexandria: Evidence for Social History in the Fourth and Fifth Centuries.” In Alexandrian Legacy: A Critical Appraisal, ed. Doru Costache, Philip Kariatlis, and Mario Baghos.  (Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2015) 174-189. Bradshaw, Paul F, and Maxwell E Johnson. The Origins of Feasts, Fasts, and Seasons in Early Christianity. Alcuin Club Collections, 86. London: SPCK, 2011. Brakke, David. Athanasius and the Politics of Asceticism. Oxford Early Christian Studies. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1995. Brakke, David. “A New Fragment of Athanasius’s Thirty-Ninth Festal Letter. Heresy, Apocrypha, and the Canon.” The Harvard Theological Review 103, no. 1 (2010): 47–66. Daise, Michael A. “‘Christ Our Passover’ (1 Corinthians 5:6–8): The Death of Jesus and the Quartodeciman Pascha.” Neotestamentica 50, no. 2 (2016): 507–26. Demacopoulos, George E. Five Models of Spiritual Direction in the Early Church. University of Notre Dame Press, 2007. Gywnn, David. “Patronage Networks in the Festal Letters of Athanasius of Alexandria” In Episcopal Networks in Late Antiquity: Connection and Communication Across Boundaries, ed. Cvetković, Carmen Angela and Gemeinhardt, Peter. (Berlin, Boston: De Gruyter, 2019) 101-115. Mikhail, Maged S.A. “The Evolution of Lent in Alexandria and the Alleged Reforms of Patriarch Demetrius” In Copts in Context:Negotiating Identity, Tradition and Modernity, ed. Nelly van Doorn-Harder (South Carolina: University of South Carolina Press, 2017), 169-180, 252-258. Morgan, Jonathan. “The Role of Asceticism in Deification in Cyril of Alexandria’s Festal Letters.” The Downside Review 135, no. 3 (2017): 144–53. Meawad, Stephen M. "Fasting Reconsidered: St. John Chrysostom and Modern Science on Fasting." Presented at “The Conference in Preparation for the Great and Holy Council of the Orthodox Church,” (2016). Wahba, Matthias F.  The Doctrine of Sanctification in St. Athanasius’ Paschal Letters. Cranston, Rhode Island: St. Mary & St. Mena Coptic Orthodox Church, 1988. Widdicombe, Peter. The Journal of Theological Studies 47, no. 2 (1996): 678–81. Wilken, Robert Louis. “The Inevitability of Allegory.” Gregorianum 86, no. 4 (2005): 742–53. — Jessica Ryder-Khalil serves at St. Mary Magdalene Coptic Orthodox Church in Gainesville, FL. Before becoming a homemaker for her beloved husband and four children, her professional background was in teaching English as a Second Language. She is currently pursuing a Master of Theological Studies (MTS) degree at St. Athanasius & St. Cyril Theological School (ACTS). DossPress.com is a place for Christian men and women to collaborate for the sake of our common edification by sharing their written works. As we strive to uphold a standard of doctrinal and spiritual soundness in the articles shared, we note nonetheless that the thoughts expressed in each article remain the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect those of Doss Press.

His Grace Bishop Suriel Bishop of Melbourne, Australia and Professor at Pope Shenouda III Coptic Orthodox Theological Seminary, New Jersey, United States The Coptic Church that first began to lay down roots in the lands of immigration approximately 50 years ago is now quite established in the West, no longer seen as a “diaspora” but rather a fully established Church with numerous dioceses and patriarchal jurisdictions throughout the western world. We as Coptic Christians are now members of truly “national” churches in each of the countries where Copts have settled. In light of this rapid international expansion, our call to ministry in the 21st century Coptic Church, particularly in the formative field of theological education, poses novel, nuanced, and critical challenges — challenges that are significantly amplified today when compared either to education as it was carried out in the Church historically, whether the Coptic Church specifically or the Christian Church more generally until the middle of the twentieth century, or to when the first Coptic churches were established in the West. These challenges raise serious and pertinent questions regarding theological education and the formation of future clergy, servants, and Church leaders, which formation is essential to the integrity and propriety of the spirit and method by which those who comprise these categories of servants carry out and administer the service of the Church, and to the preservation and transmission of sound doctrine in the pedagogical aspects of the Church’s service and mission. The Coptic Church in her rich history and heritage is certainly not alien to challenges, having faced and overcome a myriad of obstacles and wholly unfavorable odds if only to survive until the present day. In each period she has faced unique challenges, such as those which she must now traverse, and reflecting on how the Church has dealt with these challenges historically and methodologically can supply us with many important and instructive lessons to guide us in addressing today’s concerns. To this end, I wish to focus in this series on two historical periods: one ancient — the School of Alexandria — and one modern — the work of St. Habib Girgis in theological education — in order to draw from these some thoughts, reflections, and a proposed path forward for Coptic Orthodox Christian theological education in the 21st century in the West. In books five and six of his Ecclesiastical History, Eusebius of Caesarea tells of the didaskalion of Alexandria — what we like to think of today as the School of Alexandria — and enumerates its heads Pantaenus, Clement, and Origen. He presents what at first glance seems like a uniform succession of leaders in an ecclesiastical institution, and his readers are tempted to ponder the size of its supposed campus. The historical evidence, however, does not add up. A more careful analysis of the sources leads us to a rather different picture of this formidable entity: there are no buildings, classrooms, or desks; instead there are learned teachers and avid students eager to hear the word of God. The matter may perhaps upset some people, yet an honest assessment of our sources leads us to a much deeper appreciation of the beauty of the ancient Christian heritage. Ronald Heine, who published an extensive study on Origen through Oxford University Press titled Origen: Scholarship in the Service of the Church, presents the most plausible picture of the state of affairs in the milieu of Christianity in Alexandria. He speaks of “schools” instead of one singular school, at once acknowledging both the diversity and rich complexity of Christian teaching in that cosmopolitan city. There were likely five famous Christian teachers in second- and third-century Alexandria: Basilides, Valentinus, Pantaenus (who is designated by Origen as “the Hebrew”), Clement of Alexandria, and Origen, who was a disciple and student of Clement of Alexandria and who would himself emerge as a teacher early in the third century and ultimately become the most formidable scholar of the Christian East. Two of the five teachers mentioned above, Basilides and Valentinus, propagated teachings incompatible with proto-orthodoxy; the remainder, however, deserve our full attention. We know a little about Pantaenus from the writings of Clement, but we do not have any of his writings. Clement and Origen on the other hand have bequeathed us enough material for a lifetime of reading and decades of study. Pantaenus, Clement, and Origen, like their contemporaneous teachers, spent their efforts tutoring students in what would have looked like an ancient philosophical school. Schools of this sort were not necessarily academic in the modern sense of the term. They could be as small as a teacher and a single student and could perish with the death of the teacher or otherwise survive under a successor. Indeed, it was the character of the teacher that attracted potential students. Teachers would become spiritual guides to their students, who would gather around their teacher for years on end. The schools of antiquity were fundamentally oriented to texts — they could be described as textual communities — and their teachers interacted with important texts in three ways: one, “text functions as teacher;” two, “text and teacher act in concert or together;” and three, “teacher as text.”[1] St. Gregory the Wonder-Worker’s Panegyric is full of high praise for Origen, Gregory’s teacher, and Gregory makes clear that for him, his teacher became his text.[2] Clement and Origen’s works themselves fit within the second category, though they write in a rather different style. Clement often structures his works topically and makes use of texts that serve his literary efforts. Origen employs a similar arrangement in some of his works, yet in others, especially his exegetical works, he arranges his teaching by the structure of the text under examination. Origen had himself been a grammatikos, that is, one who taught children in the second level of their schooling after they had learned the basics of reading. The grammatikos would treat a text in four stages: one, “criticism to determine what the ancient author had written;” two, “reading and recitation, which included memorizing the text for recitation;” three, “explanation of the text, which included the meaning of unusual words, grammatical forms, etymology, as well as the content or story of the text;” and four, “judgment, or the moral teaching of the text.”[3] Origen would soon make use of his rhetorical training and devote his efforts exclusively to the study of Christian texts when persecution broke out under Septimius Severus (from 193 to 211 A.D.). As Eusebius recounts in Book Six of his Ecclesiastical History, there was not a single teacher remaining to preach the word of God.[4] Two brothers, Plutarch and Heracles, we are told, sought out Origen to teach them about Christ, and they became his first two students.[5] Eusebius names nine of Origen’s students who soon after baptism went to their martyrdom: these were Plutarch, who was one of the first two to seek Origen out for instruction, Serenus, Heraclides, Hero, a second named Serenus, a woman named Herais, Basilides, a woman named Potamiaena, and her mother Marcella.[6] What, then, was the goal of the school of Origen? Heine summarizes this for us beautifully: “Origen’s school, like Clement’s before him, was not intended to form specialists in texts or ideas, whether secular or sacred, but to form a Christian person. The real subject was the virtues, practical wisdom, self-control, justice, and courage.”[7] In Origen’s school, Gregory Thaumaturgus says, students were incited to virtue more by his works than by his words.[8] His example caused his students to love the virtues. Gregory judged the ultimate goal of Origen’s school to be that a person should progress through all the virtues, and having been made like God with a pure mind, approach Him and remain in Him.[9] Clement and Origen were concerned with the formation not merely of learned people, but, more centrally, of spiritual servants of God. What are the implications of this short discussion on the “schools” of Alexandria for theological education in the Coptic Church today? First, the question on the hearts of many: must our theological schools be accredited? If we are honest with ourselves, the issue touches our deepest vulnerabilities as a Christian minority emerging into the daylight of freedom of religious expression. Surrendering to any process of accreditation necessarily forces us to put into words and in writing to what we claim we are committed and provides an opportunity for others to hold us accountable to our expressed cause. Accreditation is not a matter to be taken lightly or approached hastily, but is undoubtedly a necessary step if we as a Church are serious about our commitment to bringing the message of the Gospel to the ends of the earth.[10] How can we return to the former glory of Alexandrine Christian education in carrying out the important service of theological education in the Church today, particularly in the West? First, we must recognize that the primary function of theological schooling and religious education in the Church at all levels is to discipline our people in the Christian life, just as it was in the theological schools of second- and third-century Alexandria, and we must make use of the ancient Christian texts bequeathed to us in order to achieve this purpose, so as to abide by and deliver the very spirit and doctrine that so wonderfully characterized the Orthodox authors of those texts, whose descendants we are. Second, we must return to the Alexandrine text of the Holy Scriptures, which is carefully preserved in the Coptic textual witnesses. Translation of these works, or adoption of the English language versions of the Holy Bible most faithful to the Alexandrine text, is undoubtedly necessary across Coptic Churches in the West. Third, we must allow the faithful writers of antiquity to speak to us today, both by consulting accurate translations of the ancient sources and through the mouths of their modern readers. We must oblige our responsibility of academic honesty and have the courage to be accurate, precise, and exacting in our research efforts. Just as it is incorrect to say, in broad strokes and general terms, that the School of Alexandria taught this or that, since it has been shown that Origen and Clement conducted their own “schools,” so to speak, so too is it erroneous to assert in general terms that the Coptic Church teaches this or that, except in those instances where the ancient liturgical prayers of the Coptic Orthodox Church reflect a certain teaching or the Church has publicly and consistently adopted a specific stance on any given matter. In the case of modern teachers and scholars, it is preferable to acknowledge that “Bishop X taught this,” or “Father Y taught that.” Every modern scholar in the field of Coptic Studies, in any of its areas, must bear the responsibility of academic honesty and measure himself or herself against the Alexandrine tradition that extends almost 2,000 years. Each of us as Coptic Orthodox Christians, and particularly those among us who are tasked with the responsibility of educating in the Church at any level, must recognize that to justify one’s knowledge and teaching of Christian faith and doctrine without recourse to the ancient writings, and especially, for our purposes, those that emerged in Alexandria, is precisely to preach ourselves and not authentic Orthodoxy. — [1] H. Gregory Snyder. Teachers and Texts in the Ancient World: Philosophers, Jews, and Christians. Religion in the First Christian Centuries. London and New York: Routledge, 2000. Pp. 224-27. [2] See Gregory Thaumaturgus, Oration and Panegyric Addressed to Origen. [3] Ronald E. Heine. Origen: Scholarship in the Service of the Church. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010. P. 61. [4] Eusebius of Caesarea, Ecclesiastical History VI.3.1. [5] Eusebius of Caesarea, Ecclesiastical History VI.3.2. [6] Eusebius of Caesarea, Ecclesiastical History VI.4.1 — VI.5.1. [7] Ronald E. Heine. Origen: Scholarship in the Service of the Church. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010. P. 64. [8] See Gregory Thaumaturgus, Oration and Panegyric Addressed to Origen, 9. [9] See Gregory Thaumaturgus, Oration and Panegyric Addressed to Origen, 12. [10] I will address accreditation further in the third entry of this series. — His Grace Bishop Suriel presently serves as a Professor at the Pope Shenouda III Coptic Orthodox Theological Seminary in New Jersey, United States. We are honored to announce that Season Two of His Grace Bishop Suriel’s podcast, Coffee with Bishop Suriel, is also coming soon! Subscribe to Coffee with Bishop Suriel to receive the latest news. Cover Image: Andrei Mironov, Sermon on the Mount. 2022. Image Original. DossPress.com is a place for Christian men and women to collaborate for the sake of our common edification by sharing their written works. As we strive to uphold a standard of doctrinal and spiritual soundness in the articles shared, we note nonetheless that the thoughts expressed in each article remain the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect those of Doss Press.

Since its earliest years, Christians have suffered nearly constant persecution — socially, financially, and physically — due to their religious beliefs. During one period of reprieve that commenced in the early fourth century with the enactment of the Edict of Milan by Emperors Constantine and Licinius, the monastic movement began to flourish as many individuals flocked to the desert to practice Christian spirituality most fully. Scholars have long debated the inspiration for this movement: were early Christians driven to monasticism to be united with God, or was their newfound lifestyle simply an escape from the threat of persecution? Scholarly literature suggests the latter. [1]  Such a view, it should be noted, is not a mere interpretation of the sociocultural atmosphere during the early monastic movement, but draws inspiration mainly from historical hagiographies [2] such as Jerome’s Life of Paulus. [3]   However, while the motivations of every individual who sought monasticism are not documented, for spiritually devout monks, withdrawal into the desert was generally not a means of escaping persecution or other worldly difficulties, but the pursuit of God in what they regarded to be a deeper or more perfect way. These individuals, in fact, continued to suffer persecution alongside their Christian counterparts in society and were subjected to various forms of conflict while fulfilling their ascetical responsibilities. In reviewing the applicable literature, it rather becomes evident that an escape from the difficult circumstances of persecution was not among the primary motives for the Christian monastic movement. Persecution in the Roman Empire Persecution, or the oppression of an individual or group in the form of hostility and ill-treatment due to their religious beliefs, is embedded in the history of the Church since its establishment by the Lord Jesus Christ through His Apostles. The Lord Himself spoke regarding the persecution of His followers: “Then they will deliver you up to tribulation, and put you to death; and you will be hated by all nations for My name’s sake.” [4] At the time of the Roman Empire, persecution was especially prevalent, and Christians confronted it in various ways: some voluntarily apostatized ( sacrificiati ), [5]  some bribed officials for a certificate without actually offering sacrifices ( libellatici ), [6]  some confessed when accused of being Christians ( stantes ), [7]  some voluntarily confessed their faith, and some proactively fled. The most controversial approach was that of fleeing. Clement of Alexandria, Origen of Alexandria, and Cyprian of Carthage, among several others, escaped persecution this way. On the other hand, some, such as Tertullian, opposed this approach, ultimately classifying it as a weaker form of apostasy. [8]  Pertinently, Tertullian does not mention among those who fled persecution the men and women who withdrew from the city to practice asceticism. Such individuals, on the other hand, were understood to have been regularly practicing a proverbial martyrdom, as depicted in Athanasius’s Life of Antony . Monasticism in the Roman Empire The word monk  in its earliest form was not wholly associated with religious matters. Early evidence from Egyptian papyri demonstrates that the term monk  was a designation for merchants and property owners, as well as those who were celibate for religious reasons. [9]  This emphasis on celibacy would become a foundational prerequisite for those who sought monasticism and the detachment from worldly cares and carnal lusts that such a life offered. [10]   Historically, while the first group that may be considered monks in the popular Christian sense is found in discipleship to Antony the Great, at the end of the third century, the major uptick in monasticism did not occur until 318 C.E., seven years after Roman persecution ended. Prior to Antony, and as seen in the account of his Life , Christian monasticism was associated with recluse civilians who did not withdraw into the desert or completely isolate themselves from the secular world, but instead renounced secular life through asceticism, the practice of severe self-discipline. [11] Inspired by a few men in the third and fourth centuries who decided to abandon the world to serve God in a more perfect way, Christian monasticism was born. [12] Athanasius uses the word anchoresis (“withdrawal from the world”)   to signify Antony’s departure into the desert. In its secular meaning, this word could indicate withdrawal from politics, battle, or even tax evasion. [13] While it is expected that some individuals withdrew to monasticism to escape such grievances and persecutions, this notion cannot be considered characteristic of the entire movement. The emphases found in the documented lives of early monks are consistent with philosophical tradition, stoicism, and the cultural wisdom of their time. Thus, monasticism served as a way for its adherents to return to their roots and pursue a more perfect way of life with God as their focus. Philosophy was understood as the pursuit of the perfect way of life, which was a prerequisite for “pure knowledge and illumination by the divine [God].” [14]  Such a life was not characterized by one’s intellectual activity, but rather by detachment from secular, social, and political affairs, as well as the renunciation of wealth and bodily pleasures. [15] These characteristics are explicitly seen in the lives of the monks of the early monastic period. For instance, Antony the Great gave away all of his wealth in order to follow God according to what he deemed, as a result of his sound Christian upbringing, to be the best way. The recluse Palamon, who served as a mentor to Pachomius, likewise exemplified detachment from the world, living in seclusion at the edge of civilization. In addition, common practices in the lives of monks, such as strict dietary rules, frequent recitation and memorization of Scripture, and solitude, were emphasized as being necessary to this Philosophy, and monks were regarded as pursuers of the “philosophical life” — following the “true philosophy” that is Christianity; [16] thus, there are many descriptions, in the literature arising from the period of early monasticism, of monks as successors, and even competitors, to the ancient philosophers. [17] Ultimately, monasticism granted the monks freedom from the obligations of civic life so that they could become solely concerned with the pursuit and worship of God. The Early Monks And Civic Life Escape from religious persecution and suffering in the Roman Empire during the rise of monasticism required the complete abandonment of one’s sociocultural milieu. This, however, was not common amongst monastics in late antiquity — monks during this period did not always live in complete isolation from society. In fact, documents from this period depict early monastics living in cities and towns and participating in economic and social interactions within them. [18]  These traditions predate even the establishment of organized Christian monasticism itself, and are known through the early monastic hagiographies, such as Athanasius’s Life of Antony , where Athanasius narrates that Antony sought the apprenticeship of holy men living on the outskirts of his village who practiced the ascetical discipline and were renowned for their virtuosity. [19]  The same approach was later used by Pachomius, who apprenticed himself under a local anchorite named Palamon. [20]  Thus, there were in those days recluses who practiced a form of monasticism without full retreat into the wilderness. The withdrawal of these individuals from the world was not necessarily physical, but emotional, mental, and, most importantly, spiritual. Indeed, the early monks emphasized the renunciation, and not an abandonment or disdain, of traditional forms of social life — marriage, private ownership, and civic responsibilities — and established for themselves instead a singular focus on spiritual nourishment. [21]  As previously mentioned, their pursuit of the monastic life was therefore not borne out of an escape from persecution and suffering, since they continued in large part to live in and engage with mainstream society, but instead was due to their longing to worship God in a more perfect way, removed from the distractions of the world. The Early Monks as Mediators in Conflict Further evidence for the falsity of the proposition that the monks were those who sought to escape persecution and conflict is their frequent involvement as mediators in societal, political, and religious conflicts. Soon after the rise of monasticism in the second half of the third century, monasticism became a topic of discussion at several councils in the East, and monks played a pivotal role in important controversies that arose in the Church. [22]  Monks participated in both local and ecumenical councils, such as the First Council of Nicaea, the First Council of Constantinople, and the First Council of Ephesus, and were deeply involved, even apart from participating in such formal proceedings, in addressing theological issues that arose in their time. It was, after all, the unshakeable doctrinal foundation of the Christians living near the White Monastery, which foundation was primarily attributable to the educational and pastoral efforts of Shenoute of Atripe and the monks of his monastic federation, that Nestorius was eventually exiled to nearby Panopolis, being incarcerated at Psinblje. [23]   Due to their theological proficiency and learnedness, monks were frequently called upon by presiding bishops to address local theological disputes. For instance, Antony the Great was called upon by Athanasius of Alexandria to preach against Arianism in Egypt, a heretical teaching that God the Father and God the Son, or the Logos, are not of the same substance, or nature. There are several other examples of the same sort of reliance by bishops on monks who were renowned for their soundness of doctrine and persuasiveness of character in combatting heresy. Athanasius himself, in facing the Arian heresy, introduced the practice of ordaining monks to the bishopric by carefully selecting such monks to be ordained bishops in order to assist his efforts at curtailing the spread of the heresy and securing the dioceses against its infiltration. Far from being an escape from persecution and suffering, then, monasticism was instead the pursuit of the presence of God, and its adherents’ consecration of mind and heart to God and the things of God enabled them, by His grace, to excel in understanding, teaching, and wisdom such that they were indispensable to the Church in the face of theological conflict. The involvement of monks in the affairs of the mainstream Church, moreover, was not limited to theological or doctrinal matters. For instance, the White Monastery, under the guidance of Shenoute of Atripe, opened its doors to 20,000 Christians and provided them both physical and spiritual nourishment after their village was raided. [24] The monks also served as arbitrators in civil disputes and, given their largely unrivaled piety and the reputation that many of them had for being granted special spiritual gifts, were also often asked to intervene on behalf of those in need, such as the poor and the sick. [25]  Indeed, following the establishment of communal monasticism under Pachomius in the early fourth century, monasteries frequently became the spiritual centers of villages and urban quarters, and places where local inhabitants could attend services, seek accommodations, or request help in times of need, whether medical, financial, spiritual, or otherwise. [26]   In all, the monks’ involvement in the affairs of the Church and their fellow believers in these ways attest not to their escape from persecution or societal existence, but instead their even more intimate involvement with the hardships and tribulations that arose in their days that resulted from their monastic vocation. What is more, even if some among the early monks sought out this manner of life to escape societal conflicts, they ironically found themselves all the more acquainted with it because of their monasticism. Thus, as the monks retreated further from the world spiritually, they became all the more deeply ingrained within its societal, political, and religious conflict, enduring all things, and becoming all things to all men for the sake of Christ, due to their understanding that, in the words of the founder of their way of life, “…our life and our death is with our neighbor.” [27] Monasticism as New Martyrdom The focus on suffering and tribulation as a path to glory and victory is a common theme in Christianity and was put into practice most notably by the Christian monks, who understood and approached these common experiences in the hope of the glory which God would bestow on the faithful who endure suffering for His sake. As such, they could not have abandoned suffering by their pursuit of the monastic life, but rather, by retreating to the desert, they created for themselves a prayerful oasis flowing with the waters of spiritual nourishment. Many teachers of the early Church, such as Cyprian of Carthage, in submission to the teaching of the Lord, emphasized the Christian believers’ absolute non-conformity to the world and the glory that is realized by them through their experience of tribulations. [28]  These principles are vividly represented in the lives of the early monks, who renounced traditional forms of social life in choosing to suffer for the sake of God. Besides the focus on suffering and glory, the early Christian Fathers and teachers, such as Cyprian and Origen, also emphasized the necessity of surrendering all attachment to wealth and material possessions in order to attain perfection. [29]  This way of poverty was a foundational component of monastic life: most notably, Antony the Great, upon hearing the encounter of the rich man with Christ in the Gospel according to Matthew, [30]  went and sold all his possessions before withdrawing into the desert. Furthermore, while representing a personal opinion of his and not the teaching of the early Church generally, Tertullian asserts, in his De Fuga , that persecution is ordained by God and therefore good, [31]  and accordingly, should not be fled but instead embraced. [32] The monks can be understood to have taken such advice most literally — abandoning their possessions and the comforts and pleasures of the world to pursue labor and suffering for the sake of cultivating virtue in their lives to the end of attaining to Christ at the Last Day. The practice of accepting suffering for the sake of Christ cannot be separated from the life of the monk, whose transition from civic life to monasticism resembles the transition from worldly suffering to spiritual suffering. Monasticism, similarly to martyrdom, thus epitomized for the early believers complete renunciation of the world. [33]  While martyrs endured a physical death, monks associated the desert with a place of burial. [34]  The desert represented complete and utter dependence on God, [35]  allowing the monks to choose their own means of suffering through relative withdrawal, austere dietary practices, and physical labor. The adoption of the monastic life therefore became one of many paths by which Christian men and women strove to put into practice in their own lives the command of their Master to follow Him. [36] Following Antony’s death and Athanasius authoring the Life of Antony, and in light of the cessation of the systematic persecution of Christians by the Roman Empire that characterized much of the preceding century, [37] one particular motif regarding monasticism became especially widespread: monks were the successors of the martyrs. Rather than facing a physical, imminent death, the monks “died” daily. [38] Antony himself describes dying daily as the way a monk learns to “wean himself of craving, of possessions, of grudges, of sin.” [39]  This theme became prominent in early monastic literature, [40] teaching fellow monks and civilian Christians alike that “to die is to allow Christ to live within us.” [41] Ultimately, the desert provided a transformative setting for the soul’s encounter with God, [42] allowing monks to forsake the traditional way of life in order to suffer and worship God in what they deemed a more perfect way. Monasticism as Flight From Persecution Tertullian classifies fleeing from persecution as a weaker form of apostasy. While Tertullian’s view may have been true in some cases, it is a significant generalization and cannot be considered applicable to all Christians who fled due to persecution, especially those who became monastics. For instance, Jerome writes, in his hagiographical Life of Paul of Thebes , that Paul of Thebes fled to the desert to await an end to persecution. [43]  However, Paul never returned to society even after the persecution ceased. Rather, “making a virtue of necessity,” he dedicated his life completely to God, becoming the first “hermit.” [44] While Tertullian argues that most New Testament references to persecution emphasize endurance and patience, not withdrawal, [45]  he fails to understand the “virtue of necessity” as encapsulated in the Life of Paul. Tertullian rightly justifies the idea of apostasy in those fleeing persecution for the sake of their secular livelihood. However, this idea cannot be applied to those who used this opportunity to strengthen their relationship with God by choosing to suffer for Him in another way. The spiritually devout monk did not withdraw to the desert to escape persecution, but to choose his or her own means of suffering for and worshiping God. However, not all monks retreated for the right reasons. The idea of monasticism as a means of escape from the demands of civic life was quite prevalent following the establishment of monasteries. In the fourth century, this escalated to the point where the emperor ordered the removal of many individuals who fled to monasteries to escape public duties. [46] Early in Pachomius’s communities, he encountered many such individuals, who did not take the spiritual life seriously and caused abuse to Pachomius specifically and the community more generally. [47] Once these began to neglect the synaxis (assembly for scriptural reading and prayer), he drove them away with the support of the local bishop. [48] Subsequently, Pachomius and his monks began to discreetly interview monks entering the monastery regarding their motives, [49]  ensuring that these individuals came with pure intentions. Further, while monasticism appeared on its surface to be an escape from civic responsibilities or other secular hardships, it led to more difficult spiritual duties. Monks practiced strict dietary measures, performed physical labor for long periods of time, and endured difficult living conditions. Inevitably, their toil was described as warfare, not necessarily against the body only, but for the body and spirit. [50] While monasticism may have been seen as an “easy way out” by some individuals, those truly rooted in its practices abandoned secular difficulties for spiritual ones, which allowed them to serve God in the manner most suited to their desired ends. Conclusion For the spiritually devout, withdrawal to the desert in the late third and early fourth centuries was an opportunity to choose one’s own means of suffering for and worshipping God and not a means to escape persecution or other worldly difficulties. Monasticism therefore served as a new sort of martyrdom, instilling in monks a willingness to suffer for the sake of their spiritual growth while providing them a place to worship God without worldly distraction. Nonetheless, out of their love for God and thus their brothers and sisters in the world, many monks, despite their chosen way of life, remained involved with the civic community through social service and their involvement in religious issues. They therefore did not accomplish an end to persecution and suffering through their so-called escape, and while there were many monks who sought to retreat to the desert to relieve themselves of their secular responsibilities, these were typically rejected from the monastic community and forced to return to their own villages and cities. Monastic practice today closely resembles its original form. There continue to be monastic anchorites today who follow in the footsteps of Antony the Great, who became “the defining moment for monasticism and the measure of true spirituality.” [51]  Likewise, monks living in communal monasteries are now found all over the world. Monastics today also continue to serve their local communities, whether through religious or social services, or simply by their prayers for the people. Truly, the Church today, and indeed all of world history, would not be as it is without the invaluable contributions of Christian monasticism. The Desert Fathers, or Desert Monks, were early Christian hermits living in Egypt who laid the foundation for Christian monasticism as we know it today. The Apophthegmata Patrum , Sayings of the Desert Fathers, is a collection of their wisdom, sayings, and stories, all of which have helped shape theological terminology, monastic practices, and scriptural interpretation since the establishment of the monastic movement. These sayings continue to be treasured until today for all Christians. Accordingly, monasticism has long been, and continues to be, an ever-integral component of the life of the Church in every generation. — [1] Talbot, Alice-Mary. “ An Introduction to Byzantine Monasticism. ” Illinois Classical Studies , vol. 12, no. 2, University of Illinois Press, 1987, pp. 229–41. [2] A hagiography is a written account of the life of a saint. [3] Jerome writes of Paul, “As the storm of persecution rumbled on, he withdrew to a more distant and isolated spot.” (Alexandrinus, Athanasius, et al. Early Christian Lives . Penguin Books, 1998). [4] Matthew 24:9. [5] Cyprian, Laps. 7-8, (CCSL 3:224-225). [6] Tertullian, Fug. 12 (CCSL 2:1153-55). [7] Cyprian, Laps. 3, (CCSL 3:222). [8]  Sutcliffe, Ruth. “ To Flee or Not to Flee? Matthew 10:23 and Third Century Flight in Persecution. ” Scrinium  14.1 (2018), pp. 133-160.   Note : Tertullian’s hardline view on this issue has been attributed at least in part to the influence of Montanism on his religious thinking and practices beginning in the middle part of his life, which ultimately led him to separate from the Church and join the Montanist schismatics. [9]  Rubenson, Samuel. “Asceticism and Monasticism, I: Eastern.” The Cambridge History of Christianity , edited by Augustine Casiday and Frederick W. Norris, vol. 2, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 2007, pp. 637–668. Cambridge History of Christianity. [10] Lemeni, Daniel. “ The Untimely Tomb: Death in the Spirituality of the Desert. ” Hortus Artium Medievalium , vol. 23, no. 2, 2017, pp. 532–537. [11] Words that were initially secular in meaning began to have religious connotations, and eventually denotations, through the lives of these individuals. Askesis , “to exercise,” was initially used to describe physical training in preparation for athletic contests. Eventually, this word adopted a philosophical, ethical, and spiritual dimension ( See  Kling, David W. The Bible in History : How the Texts Have Shaped the Times . Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004. Web.). Ascetics, in the Christian sense, were therefore those who practiced self-discipline, typically in seclusion at the outskirts of their villages, for religious purposes. [12] Alexandrinus, xii. [13] Harmless, William. Desert Christians: An Introduction to the Literature of Early Monasticism . Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004, p. 64. [14] Rubenson, 639. [15] Rubenson, 639. [16] See e.g. , Justin Martyr, Dialogue with Trypho 8.1. [17] Rubenson, 640. [18]  Rubenson, 638. [19] Harmless, 118. [20] Harmless 118. [21] Rubenson, 638. [22] Rubenson, 637. [23] Bibawy, A. “St. Shenoute of Atripe and His Monastic Order.” Orthodox Monasticism Past and Present , edited by John A. McGuckin. Gorgias Press LLC, Piscataway, NJ, USA, 2015, pp. 257-258. [24] For a discussion of this event, see  A.G. Lopez, Shenoute of Atripe and the Uses of Poverty: Rural Patronage, Religious Conflict, and Monasticism in Late Antique Egypt . Berkeley, 2013, pp. 57-62. [25] Rubenson, 641.  [26] Talbot, 230. [27] Ward, Benedicta. The Sayings of the Desert Fathers . Kalamazoo, Michigan: Cistercian Publications, 1975, p. 3. [28]  See, e.g.,  Cyprian, Fort.  8-10 (CCSL 3:195-102). [29] Kling, 19. [30] The story of the rich man is found in Matthew 19:16-22 and portrays a rich man who asks Jesus what he must do to attain eternal life. After a brief interaction, Jesus replies saying, “If you wish to be perfect, go, sell your possessions, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” [31] Tertullian, Fug. 1, 2 (CCSL 2:1135-39). [32] This view — that Christians should not flee persecution — was undoubtedly the minority opinion among the teachers of the early Church. In fact, Tertullian’s own dissatisfaction with the spiritual laxity that he believed had overtaken the mainstream Church, which contributes to this opinion of his, ultimately led him to apostatize and join the Montanist sect for its more rigorous practices. [33] Lemeni, 535. [34] Lemeni, 532. [35] Lemeni, 533. [36] Kling, 20. [37] The first empire-wide, official persecution of Christians was enacted by Decius in 250 A.D. and largely persisted until 313 A.D. with the enactment of the Edict of Milan by Constantine and Licinius, which officially put an end to Christian persecution in the Empire and granted freedom of religion to all. [38] 1 Corinthians 15:31. [39] Harmless, 70. [40] Harmless, 70. [41] Lemeni, 547. [42] Kling, 33. [43] Alexandrinus, 77. [44] Alexandrinus, 77. [45]  Sutcliffe, 135. Sutcliffe mentions the following New Testament passage in support of this notion: Hebrews 11:37-38; Matthew 2:13-15, 19-22; Luke 4:28-30; Acts 8:1-3; 11:19; 13:50; 14:6, 19-21; 2 Corinthians 11:30-33. [46] Talbot, 232. [47] Harmless, 120. [48] Harmless, 120. [49] Harmless, 126. [50] Kling, 34-35. [51] Kling, 39. — Mark Dawod serves as a Reader at St. Mark's Coptic Orthodox Church in Jersey City, New Jersey. He is currently a student at Princeton University, pursuing a career in medicine. This paper is an adaptation of course work submitted for "The New Testament and Christian Origins," offered by Dr. Jonathan Henry in Fall 2021 at Princeton University. Cover Image: The Monastery of St. Bishoy, captured by Monica Saleeb. Image Original. DossPress.com  is a place for Christian men and women to collaborate for the sake of our common edification by sharing their written works. As we strive to uphold a standard of doctrinal and spiritual soundness in the articles shared, we note nonetheless that the thoughts expressed in each article remain the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect those of Doss Press.

In an interview about his book “Hearing the Scriptures,”[1] Fr. Eugen J. Pentiuc describes liturgical experience as a dynamic and interactive event in which the interpretative imagination of hymnographers and liturgists collides with the intellect and senses of the hearer, who takes in the entire scene of prayer in the corporate setting of the Church. What Christian worshippers encounter through the hymns, lectionaries, and liturgical prayers of the Church is a synergistic expression of the Holy Scriptures through what Fr. Pentiuc describes as an entanglement of the Old and New Testaments. The depth of the meaning is compounded in both typology of the Old being fulfilled in the New, but also in a reverse typology where the New enlightens the spiritual reality of the Old.[2] While Fr. Pentiuc explores the Holy Week hymns of the Byzantine tradition, in this paper we will focus on the prevalence of Abrahamic typology and references in the Coptic Orthodox Christian rite and explore some aspects of its impact on the liturgical theology of the Coptic Orthodox tradition. This paper will be organized to cover the appearance of the patriarchs in the Coptic Synaxarium on 28 Ⲙⲉⲥⲱⲣⲏ,[3] in which Abraham is referenced as a prophet. Next, some attention will be given to the minor references to Abraham during the Great Lent and the Nativity season of Ⲕⲟⲓⲁϩⲕ.[4] Then, we will move on to the more notable Feast of Covenant Thursday with its renowned typology of the sacrifice of Isaac foreshadowing the Passion of Christ. Finally, we will reflect on the role that Abrahamic typology plays in the annual days of the Coptic rite in the Eucharistic Liturgy of St. Basil, in the petitions of the Church and, perhaps most importantly, in the prothesis rite of selecting the Eucharistic offering. Feast of the Patriarchs on 28 Ⲙⲉⲥⲱⲣⲏ Many Old Testament figures are included in the Coptic Synaxarium, or the book of the “lives of the saints,” typically in remembrance of their service as prophets or in celebration of their righteous way of life. This includes the combined feast for the three patriarchs: Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob on 28 Ⲙⲉⲥⲱⲣⲏ in the Coptic calendar (September 3 in the Gregorian calendar). For the divine liturgy celebrated on that day, there are several special features that denote the honor given to the patriarchs in general and to Abraham in particular. Among the prayers of this day are a Ⲯⲁⲗⲓ Ⲃⲁⲧⲟⲥ,[5] a Ⲯⲁⲗⲓ Ⲁⲇⲁⲙ,[6] a hymn for the prophets (Ⲁⲇⲁⲙ Ⲁⲃⲉⲗ[7]) and a Concluding Canon, in addition to the daily readings, which themselves offer deep insights into the Church’s high esteem for the patriarch and prophet who was patiently awaiting the appearance of the Lord, just as he awaited the birth of Isaac. The theology of the Church is enacted and lived in the rites of the Church, and in this particular example the Church’s understanding and thought is fully explained by St. Cyril of Alexandria in his Glaphyra on the Pentateuch: “Great indeed, then, is the marvel of that righteous man, and his love of God is beyond all praise. For…allowing no earthly thing to oppose his love for God, he offered up the spiritual sacrifice.”[8] Although not an exhaustive treatment of the rites for this commemoration day, several lines from the aforementioned hymns and Canon are worth mentioning. First, the Ⲯⲁⲗⲓ Ⲃⲁⲧⲟⲥ for 28 Ⲙⲉⲥⲱⲣⲏ celebrates the three patriarchs while also invoking the prayers of St. Mary the Theotokos.[9] “Through the prayers of the Theotokos and Abraham, Isaac and Jacob,”[10] is chanted making an indirect connection between Abraham as the father of the nations in Christ and the Theotokos as the mother of the incarnate Lord. The hymn for the prophets, Ⲁⲇⲁⲙ Ⲁⲃⲉⲗ, also emphasizes the idea that Christ was already revealing Himself to the Old Testament prophets so that they may also rejoice in the foreknowledge of the salvation of the world. This line also combines the three patriarchs with Noah in exultation, “Righteous Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Joseph judged Egypt; they bore witness to His coming.”[11] Lastly, the Concluding Canon venerates Abraham as the forefather of the Savior, saying: “All races and tribes…cannot speak of your dignity…for the pleasure of the Lord Jesus who appeared in your genealogy.”[12] These mentions of Abraham honor him as a prophet of the Passion of Christ and as an ancestor to the Incarnate Lord. The Lectionary (Ⲕⲁⲧⲁⲙⲉⲣⲟⲥ), or the book of daily liturgical readings, is a treasure trove containing the mind of the Church regarding Abraham’s high rank among the Old Testament prophets and his importance to our spiritual life today.[13] An overarching theme is the identification of the Lord as the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob,[14] as if to deflect the question of God’s identity to the patriarchs themselves. The Most High was worshipped by them, and we know Him by virtue of being their descendants. Both the Gospel of the Evening Raising of Incense and the Catholic Epistle excerpted from the Epistle of St. James[15] echo the theme of friendship with God. The Psalm of the Divine Liturgy signals the everlasting covenant with Abraham, reinforcing that what the Lord has promised, He will do, and it will not be undone. This is further evidenced in the Gospel of the Morning Raising of Incense, taken from the Gospel According to St. Luke, which describes the role that Abraham has in the heavenly kingdom with an account of his interaction with Lazarus and the rich man interceding to the patriarch for relief. The result of his friendship with God on earth is the eternal relationship with Him in heaven, participating in the work of the eternal kingdom by comforting the poor and meek. This one day in the liturgical calendar reveals the thought of the Church regarding the economy of salvation and the activity of the saints as friends and collaborators with the Lord of Hosts. As previously posited, the Church as the Ark of Salvation facilitates an overlapping of the spiritual realities of the Old Testament and New Testament, whose synthesis is the worship of all who are waiting for the building of the City of God.[16] Abraham waited and saw the hope of the Resurrection; so too his children wait, watch, and hope for the fulfillment of redemption in Christ. Mentions of Abraham during Ⲕⲟⲓⲁϩⲕ and Great Lent Abraham accompanies us throughout the Coptic liturgical calendar with mentions during annual days and fasting seasons alike. It is worth noting that the lines about Abraham during Ⲕⲟⲓⲁϩⲕ mirror the hymnology of the Sunday Θεοτοκία,[17] while the hymns for Great Lent mirror the annual Wednesday Ⲯⲁⲗⲓ and express our sharing in the virtues of obedience and generosity whole-heartedly lived by the patriarch. Of interest is that Abraham’s nephew Lot is also counted among the righteous men who were saved through prayer and fasting. In this section, the phraseology of those hymns will be explored. The theological focus of the Ⲕⲟⲓⲁϩⲕ season is the anticipation of the Incarnation of the Lord, and as such the hymnology places great emphasis on the role of St. Mary the Theotokos and her willing participation in the salvation of the world through her miraculous pregnancy. As previously indicated, this participation in the economy of salvation alongside the Lord is a unique tenet of Orthodox Christianity. Pairing the Old Testament prophets with the Theotokos communicates that this activity began from the earliest encounters of mankind with God. For this reason, one of the seasonal doxologies for Ⲕⲟⲓⲁϩⲕ parallels the well-known verses among the Coptic faithful from the Sunday Psalmody, in the hymn Ϣⲁϣϥ ⲛ̀ⲥⲟⲡ:[18] “Hail to you, Mary: the grace of Abraham;” “Hail to you, Mary: the salvation of Saint Isaac;” and “Hail to you, Mary: the rejoicing of Jacob.”[19] The tune shifts for the Great Lent, as does the theological lesson taught through the hymnology. In comparing the Ⲯⲁⲗⲓ Ⲁⲇⲁⲙ, prayed Sunday through Tuesday, and the Ⲯⲁⲗⲓ Ⲃⲁⲧⲟⲥ, prayed Wednesday through Saturday, familiar concepts are displayed, such as the offering of an acceptable sacrifice through fasting, the visitation of the Lord to the righteous, and the deliverance from tribulation. The Wednesday Ⲯⲁⲗⲓ prayed during annual days throughout the year reflects the same theological points with the addition of the virtues of compassion and mercy. Abraham’s Acceptable Sacrifice and Covenant Thursday As observed in the hymns for Great Lent, Abraham’s sacrifice of his beloved son Isaac is already being recalled in the Coptic congregations in the period leading up to Holy Week. However, the significance of Abraham’s actions will only be heightened as the Pascha unfolds. H.H. Pope Shenouda III described Holy Week in his book Thine is the Power and the Glory: “The Passion Week…is the most important period in the year and the richest spiritually. It is a week full of holy memories of the most crucial stage of salvation...The Church chose for this week certain readings from both the Old and the New Testaments, which reflect, the most passionate feelings that explain God's relation with Man.”[23] In the following paragraphs, Abraham’s participation in the “acceptable sacrifice” of the Lord Jesus Christ through His Passion will be examined. Prior to Holy Thursday, there is only one prophecy related to Abraham and Isaac found in the readings of the Coptic Church’s Holy Week Lectionary. In the Ninth Hour of Wednesday, one of the Old Testament readings is taken from the Book of Genesis (24:1-9), which tells of Abraham sending his servant to find a wife for Isaac. In this case, the search for Isaac’s bride foreshadows the Church as the bride of Christ.[24] The Church again confirms that the prophets both had foreknowledge of and participated in the salvation history of the world in the Exposition reading for that Hour. The Exposition reading states: “The mystery of Your incarnation You have concealed in our body, O Christ our God. For Abraham, the great patriarch, the father of all nations fathomed in great faith that God the Word shall be incarnate from his seed.”[25] These readings and their situation within the prayers of Holy Week achieve two purposes: first, the congregation is reminded that the sacrifice of Christ on the Cross is how He will redeem His bride, the Church, and second, they act as a preparation for the events of the next day when Abraham and Isaac will again be front and center alongside Christ in His Passion on Covenant Thursday. With the focus on the account of Abraham, Isaac, and the offering on Mt. Moriah, it may be easy to miss the second reading from the Book of Genesis during the Ninth Hour prayer of Holy Thursday, even though it gives an important theological frame to the events of the day. The sacrifice of Isaac (Gen. 22:1-19) is read in tandem with Abraham’s meeting with Melchizedek (Gen. 14:17-20), king of Salem, from whom he received an offering of bread and wine. St. Cyril, in the Glaphyra, gives a lengthy treatment of the presence of Melchizedek, also interpreting the offering as a type of the Eucharist instituted by Christ on Covenant Thursday. He writes, “Melchizedek took up the symbols of the priesthood that excels the law, offering Abraham both wine and bread when he blessed him. Likewise, we are not blessed in any other way except through Christ, the great and true priest.”[26] Thus, the faithful are readied to receive the Institution of the greatest sacrament of the Christian Church, the Eucharist. It appears paradoxical that the Lord should require that the Son of Promise, Isaac, be offered up, yet this is Abraham’s test, and God finds his sacrifice acceptable, as the Church reads in the Exposition of the Ninth Hour of Covenant Thursday.[27] It is Isaac who carries the wood, just as Christ carried the wood of the Cross by His own strength and will, and was also accepted by the Father, as the Coptic faithful chant in the hymn Ⲫⲁⲓ ⲉ̀ⲧⲁϥⲉ̀ⲛϥ[28] during the Sixth Hour of Good Friday: “This is He who offered Himself as an acceptable sacrifice on the Cross for the salvation of our race.”[29] None give light to this typology better than St. Cyril: “For the Word was in reality of the substance of God the Father, shining radiantly in His own temple, that which was supplied through the Virgin, and which was nailed to the tree. Although as God He was impassable and immortal, He took Himself away to suffering and death, and through His own body He offered up a pleasing aroma to God the Father. He Himself, therefore, is said to have been accepted by the Father, in accordance with what is written in the Psalms.”[30] The Psalms resolve this paradox of sacrificing the promised and cherished heir, as we read in Psalm 16:10, “For You will not leave my soul in Sheol, nor will You allow Your Holy One to see corruption.” Isaac is restored to Abraham, and Christ trampled death by His Resurrection. Even as we anticipate and gradually approach the Crucifixion during the days of the Pascha Week, the Church is clear in her teaching that the end goal is not solely perseverance in the face of innocents’ suffering, but the rejoicing in the redemptive victory that dawns with the Resurrection Feast. Before the distribution of the Holy Body and Blood for the Divine Liturgy of Covenant Thursday, the Fraction prayer clearly lays out this typology, instructing the faithful to anticipate the Resurrection even on the day preceding the Crucifixion. It reads, “and Isaac returned alive, likewise Christ rose alive from the dead and appeared to His holy disciples. O God, who received the sacrifice of our father Abraham, receive this sacrifice from our hands in this hour.”[31] The Church lives out this unity which transcends temporal boundaries, bringing together the sacrifice of Abraham, the Crucifixion of the Lord, and the institution of the Eucharist, our prayer and sacrifice offered year by year, and the acceptance of all these separate moments by God the Father as one. Abraham in the Annual Days of the Coptic Rite The power of this spiritual reality is repeated during the annual days of the Coptic liturgical calendar, when the Divine Liturgy of St. Basil is regularly prayed. Two references to Abraham can be observed audibly, while Abraham’s role in the prothesis rite of selecting the Eucharistic offering is acted out inaudibly by the celebrant. Attentive devotion should be given even to these minor mentions of Abraham in the Prayer for the Departed offered during the Evening Raising of Incense and also in the Commemoration of the Saints prayed during the Liturgy of the Faithful, as they bring into focus the presence of the Scriptures within the liturgical rites. As discussed in the section on 28 Ⲙⲉⲥⲱⲣⲏ, the Gospel of the Morning Raising of Incense passage from the Gospel According to St. Luke on that day describes Lazarus as resting in Abraham’s arms.[32] In reference to the same account, we pray in the two aforementioned prayers, “Graciously, O Lord, repose all their souls in the bosom of our holy fathers Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.[33] Sustain them in a green pasture, by the water of rest in the Paradise of joy, the place out of which grief sorrow and groaning have fled away, in the light of Your saints,”[34] reminding us that death is a departure to the resting place of the fathers and that there is spiritual activity even for those who wait there for the Kingdom. The only mention of Abraham in the Morning Raising of Incense is in the Prayer for the Oblations, reminding us to offer our gifts with righteousness. The prayer reads: “As You have received the offerings of the righteous Abel, the sacrifice of our father Abraham and the two mites of the widow, so also receive the thank-offerings of our servants.”[35] Again we see the overlap of both Old and New Testament offerings with our own in the present time, signifying the unity of the faithful across the ages. Abraham’s sacrifice also plays as important a role during the Divine Liturgies celebrated on annual days as it does on Covenant Thursday, however through a silent, symbolic action of the celebrant. Not only is it silent, but it is also passed on purely as oral tradition from priest to priest.[36] During the prothesis rite of the Coptic Church, the priest folds the Communion napkin to have a point at one end and hides it inside his sleeve to signify the knife that Abraham would have carried. Once the Eucharistic offering is selected, the napkin is taken out, unfolded, and used to wipe any excess flour from the offering in order to prepare it to be placed in the paten. The remainder of the loaves are also blessed by the priest with the prayer, “A sacrifice of glory, a sacrifice of praise, a sacrifice of Abraham, a sacrifice of Isaac, a sacrifice of Jacob, a sacrifice of Melchizedek.”[37] The silence of this symbolic act instructs us in the layers of mystery involved in the sacrament. Abraham went to Mt. Moriah keeping the details of the sacrifice to himself; the Lord Christ also went to the Cross in silence. Similarly, when the priest selects the offering bread, he is silent as the congregation chants “Lord, have mercy,” using the appropriate Ⲁϫⲡⲓⲁ prayers (Prayers of the Hours) as a segue into the Divine Liturgy itself while petitioning God to be present among the faithful. We can imagine that Abraham was earnestly praying for God’s presence and intervention in the sacrifice of Isaac, again circling back to the overlapping spiritual parallels of the Old and New Testaments in the life of the Church. Conclusion The climax of Abraham’s role in the rites of the Coptic Church is undoubtedly recognized as Covenant Thursday, when his beloved son Isaac is offered to God in tandem with Christ’s institution of the Eucharist and His preparation to complete the journey to the Cross. Nonetheless, Abraham remains present in the liturgical prayers throughout the year, as we have explored through both the seasonal hymns and the annual prayers. The patriarch is elevated in the eyes of the faithful for his righteous life before the Lord, leading him into a deep friendship with the Almighty.[38] The result of that intimate trust was that Abraham glimpsed through prophetic insight the Passion and Resurrection of the Only-Begotten Son when he received his own son back from the dead, as it were.[39] The sacramental mystery connecting the Old and New Testaments continually points us to Abraham for his willingness and determination to follow the Lord, entreating and energizing today’s faithful to continue in the ways of their father. In imitation of Abraham, the Coptic faithful eagerly rise and travel to the church with their acceptable sacrifice as a demonstration of their inheritance and root of their faith. As St. Cyril writes, “and so God the Father would in due course show forth Abraham to be the root and origin of many thousands of Gentiles, when Emmanuel died for the world.”[40] — [1] Pentiuc, Eugen. “Hearing the Scriptures: A Conversation with Fr. Eugen Pentiuc.” YouTube. Last modified November 9, 2022. [2] See Augustine of Hippo, Questions on the Heptateuch, 2.73. [3] “Mesra,” the twelfth month of the Coptic liturgical calendar, which typically begins in August in the Gregorian calendar. [4] “Kiahk,” the fourth month of the Coptic liturgical calendar, which typically begins in December in the Gregorian calendar. [5] A Ⲯⲁⲗⲓ (Psali) is a praise or hymn, and Ⲃⲁⲧⲟⲥ (Wados) refers to the musical meter in which the Ⲯⲁⲗⲓ is chanted, typically one consisting of seven, eight, or even nine beats per measure, and is associated with particular days of the week – specifically, Wednesday through Saturday. Thus, the Ⲯⲁⲗⲓ Ⲃⲁⲧⲟⲥ for this commemoration is chanted when it falls on these days of the week. [6] When used in relation to the hymns and liturgical prayers of the Coptic Church, Ⲁⲇⲁⲙ (Adam), like Ⲃⲁⲧⲟⲥ, refers to the musical meter in which the hymn is chanted, typically consists of four, five, or six beats per measure, and is associated with particular days of the week – specifically, Sunday through Tuesday. Thus, the Ⲯⲁⲗⲓ Ⲁⲇⲁⲙ for this commemoration is chanted when it falls on these days of the week. [7] “Adam Abel” [8] Cyril of Alexandria, Glaphyra on the Pentateuch, trans. Nicholas P. Lunn, vol. 1 Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2018, pg 159. [9] “Mother of God” [10] Ⲯⲁⲗⲓ Ⲃⲁⲧⲟⲥ for 28 Ⲙⲉⲥⲱⲣⲏ, 2. See also H.G. Bishop Mettaous, HG Bishop Samuel, Gerges Sarkis, Murad Morcos, ed. الابصاليات السنوية الجزء الثاني. Beni Suef, Egypt: Victor Kirollos Press, 1995, pg 289. [11] “Special Hymn - Any Prophet: Ⲁⲇⲁⲙ Ⲁⲃⲉⲗ Ⲙⲁⲑⲟⲩⲥⲁⲗⲁ: لحن خاص,” Accessed November 21, 2023. [12] H.G. Bishop Samuel, ed. ترتيب البيعة الجزء الثالث (الصوم الكبير-الخمسين - من برمهات إلى النسى) Shebeen al Kanater, Egypt: Al-Neam Publishing, 2000, pg. 206-207. [13] There are nine Scriptural readings for every day in the Coptic calendar, including a Psalm and Gospel for the Evening Raising of Incense, a Psalm and Gospel for Morning Raising of Incense, and readings from the Pauline Epistles, Catholic Epistles, and the Acts as well as a Psalm and Gospel for the Divine Liturgy itself. On 28 Ⲙⲉⲥⲱⲣⲏ, the readings are as follows: Evening Raising of Incense – Psalm 46:6-8, John 15:7-16; Morning Raising of Incense – Psalm 104:2, Luke 16:19-31; Divine Liturgy – Hebrews 11:1-10, James 2:14-23, Acts 7:20-34, Psalm 104:4-5, Mark 12:18-27 (NKJV). [14] See readings from Acts and the Gospel of the Divine Liturgy. [15] See also Isaiah 41:8 (NKJV). [16] See Augustine, City of God. [17] “Theotokia,” a theologically rich praise for the Theotokos and the Incarnation of our Savior, of which one is found for every day of the week in the Psalmody of the Coptic Church. [18] “Shashf Ensob,” which begins: “Seven times every day, I will praise Your name…” [19] Ϣⲁϣϥ ⲛ̀ⲥⲟⲡ, 10a; 10c; 11a; See also Fr. Matthias Farid Wahba, ed., The Holy Psalmody Encino, CA: Keemy Brothers, 2004, pg. 136. [20] Wahba, pg. 679-680. [21] Ibid, pg. 671. [22] Ibid, pg. 201-202. [23] H.H. Pope Shenouda III, Thine is the Power and the Glory, Last modified March 13, 1998, pg. 7. [24] Cyril of Alexandria, pg. 164 [25] Fr. Abraham Azmy, ed., Book of the Holy Pascha: From the Last Friday of Great Lent to Resurrection Feast Liturgy Hamden, CT: Virgin Mary and Archangel Michael Coptic Orthodox Church, 2005., pg. 261. [26] Cyril of Alexandria, pg. 126; See Hebrews 7. [27] Azmy, pg. 397. [28] “Fai Etafenf” (GB). [29] “Fai Etaf-Enf: Ⲫⲁⲓ  ⲉ̀ⲧⲁϥⲉ̀ⲛϥ ⲉ̀ⲡϣⲱⲓ: فاي إتاف إنف,” March 7, 2007, Accessed December 10, 2023. [30] Cyril of Alexandria, pg 156. [31] “Covenant Thursday: Ⲁⲥϣⲱⲡⲓ ⲇⲉ ϧⲉⲛ ⲛⲓⲉ̀ϩⲟⲟⲩ: خميس العهد,” April 5, 2012, Accessed December 10, 2023. [32] See Luke 16:19-31 (NKJV). [33] Evidence for the use of this phrase can be found in the rubrics of Pope Gabriel V from the 15th century. For more on the commemoration prayers see Mikhail, Ramez. The Presentation of the Lamb Ebook PDF: The Prothesis and Preparatory Rites of the Coptic Liturgy. Studies in Eastern Christian Liturgies, V.2. Münster: Aschendorff Verlag, 2020, pg. 233-234. [34] Coptic Orthodox Patriarchate, The Coptic Liturgy of St. Basil Canadensis, CA: St. John the Beloved Publishing House, 1993, pg. 31 and pg. 513. [35] Ibid, pg. 53. [36] Silas Andrew, “Liturgy of St. Basil,” Bible Study (lecture presented at the College Youth Bible Study, Gainesville, FL: St. Mary Magdalene Coptic Orthodox Church, 2023). [37] Mikhail, pg. 219. Fr. Arsenius Mikhail details in his work that these practices developed over time with an increasing reverence and symbolism, but are not found in existing manuscripts. [38] See James 2:21-23; 2 Chronicles 20:7; Isaiah 41:8. [39] See John 8:56; Hebrews 11:17-19. [40] Cyril of Alexandria, pg. 159. — Jessica Ryder-Khalil serves at St. Mary Magdalene Coptic Orthodox Church in Gainesville, FL. Before becoming a homemaker for her beloved husband and four children, her professional background was in teaching English as a Second Language. She is currently pursuing a Master of Theological Studies (MTS) degree at St. Athanasius & St. Cyril Theological School (ACTS). This paper is an adaptation of course work submitted for "Introduction to the Old Testament," offered by Fr. Eugen Pentiuc in Fall 2023 at St. Athanasius & St. Cyril Theological School. DossPress.com is a place for Christian men and women to collaborate for the sake of our common edification by sharing their written works. As we strive to uphold a standard of doctrinal and spiritual soundness in the articles shared, we note nonetheless that the thoughts expressed in each article remain the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect those of Doss Press.

The deposit of Faith, as handed down to the Church from Christ through the Apostles, was safeguarded, expounded, and clearly delineated in the Ecumenical Councils such that their influence touches every aspect of Orthodox Christianity. These Councils were entrusted to elucidate the fundamental doctrines of the Church, including, but not limited to, Trinitarian theology, Christology, Mariology, Soteriology, and Ecclesiology, while also administering and regulating a rapidly-growing Christian community. Without the perceptive and transformative decrees that came out of the Ecumenical Councils, the Church would not be as we know her to be today. As members continued to be added to the Church, to the extent that the Church became universal, an official definition of her Faith and a more formal arrangement of her service became necessary. Metropolitan Kallistos Ware summarizes the role of the Ecumenical Councils in the growing Church: “[They] clarified and articulated the visible organization of the Church, crystallizing the position of the five great sees or Patriarchates…The councils defined once and for all the Church’s teaching upon the fundamental doctrines of the Christian faith.”[1] As is evident in the reception of the decrees, Creed of Faith, canons, and liturgical, moral, and behavioral laws pronounced and decreed by the first Ecumenical Council at Nicaea, this Council, and all Ecumenical Councils that came after it, became, after the Scriptures, the ruling authority regarding the Faith and life of the Church. Shortly after the turn of the fourth century, Arianism grew rampant, plaguing and dividing the Church more than any heresy that preceded it. As a result of this division among the Christians, the imperial authorities saw it necessary to convene the first Ecumenical Council to rectify the issue. Representatives were chosen from among the leaders of the Churches, and in May of 325 A.D. they convened at Nicaea to address Arianism, which purported that the Incarnate Logos “is not eternal, nor coeternal with the Father, nor uncreated like the Father,” but is rather a perfect creation.[2] By the conclusion of this Council, those in attendance, mainly Bishops and those of the various clerical orders, had identified, formulated, and deemed acceptable and Orthodox certain terminology based upon the Holy Scriptures and the Tradition which they had received, in order to clarify the Orthodox doctrine of the All-Holy Trinity, one in essence. The formulated Creed, which would come to be known as the Nicene Creed, introduced to Christological language the term Homoousios, meaning “of one [and the same] substance” with the Father, and confirmed the Church’s faith that Christ is “True God of True God,” affirming the divinity of the Lord.[3] The inclusion of the term Homoousios into the Nicene Creed was essential, as a response to the efforts of Eusebius of Caesarea, who had composed a creed of faith completely devoid of this doctrine, or at the very least the word used for consubstantiality.[4] In order to clarify the sound Orthodox teaching as they had received it, this Council felt it necessary to not only include the term Homoousios, but also to expound upon its interpretation, since it was not explicitly from the divinely-inspired Scriptures but was produced “in man’s reason.”[5] It became the intent and practice of the Church’s leaders, most notably Athanasius of Alexandria, to use the terminology developed at Nicaea, and especially its statement of Faith, to remain faithful to the Scriptural teaching and not deviate from the sound understanding of the Person of Christ.[6] The statement of Faith agreed upon at Nicaea is until today recited by the Faithful in every Orthodox liturgical prayer, albeit as modified by the Ecumenical Council at Constantinople. As such, it is evident that the first Ecumenical Council at Nicaea became the precedent and foundation upon which the subsequent Ecumenical Councils would build their efforts to preserve and convey proper Orthodox dogma.[7] Besides the Creed of Faith that was agreed upon, anathemas were instituted by the Ecumenical Council at Nicaea. An aim of the Council was to affirm that those who fall away from the Church’s doctrine were to be set apart from the Church and not to commune with the Faithful, on the basis that they do not worship the same God. The anathemas decided at Nicaea were: “And those who say that 'there was once when he was not' and 'before being begotten he did not exist,' and that 'he came into existence from nothing' or who affirm that the Son of God is of another hypostasis or ousia, or mutable or changeable, these the Catholic and Apostolic Church anathematizes.”[8] Here, the Council’s anathemas first deal with those who asserted that Christ was not eternal and was therefore successive to the Father as a mutable creation (i.e., a creation subject to change). The Council then reiterated the doctrine of the consubstantiality of the incarnate Logos and clarified that if any were to identify with or believe a contrary teaching, the Church, in her authority, condemned them, for the sake of preserving the Orthodox Faith and the spiritual and dogmatic wellbeing of her members. The Ecumenical Councils not only dealt with theology and dogma, but also touched on ritual practice and areas of practical life, as evidenced by the canons issued by them. The Ecumenical Council at Nicaea decreed twenty canons dealing with various matters of the Church’s life, for the sake of ritual order and the edification of the Church’s members. The canons issued at Nicaea remain authoritative until today. For example, even until today, a bishop must be ordained by no less than three other bishops, although the preference and most common practice is to have many bishops present. This practice corresponds to the fourth canon established at Nicaea and is a prime example of the Church issuing regulations for the proper ordination of bishops.[9] The fifth Nicene canon required that universal consistency be maintained in the Church with regard to the reception of those who were excommunicated by other bishops: pre-excommunication investigations and examinations were conducted twice a year with the gathering of a “synod.” Other canons established by this council addressed many other canonical functions, such as baptism, ordination, ecclesiastical authority, and traveling/relocated clergy. Along with these, there were canons that fulfilled a moral or ethical function, such as canon seventeen, against usury, which stated that any member of the clergy who practices usury — a rampant issue at the time — shall be deposed.[10] In the second canon, an ecclesiastical and moral issue is addressed, as ordaining a newly-baptized convert out of necessity due to a lack of clergy is denounced: it is ecclesiastical in that there is care for the Church to not cause any to stumble if the ordained convert were to fall into sin, and it is moral in its care for the one called to ordination, “lest, being lifted up with pride, he fall into condemnation and the snare of the devil.”[11] The Council saw fit to enact such preventative measures in keeping the Church ordered, secure and well-balanced. The effects of the Ecumenical Council at Nicaea pervaded throughout history to underpin the authority of the subsequent Ecumenical Councils, and thereby the life of the Church and her members. The Councils thereafter, having the Ecumenical Council at Nicaea as their foundation, became the ruling authority in the Church for expounding and clarifying proper Orthodox theology and terminology: for instance, the Ecumenical Council of Ephesus I, which convened in 431 A.D. and confirmed as most proper for use in reference to the Virgin Mary the term Θεοτόκος in lieu of Nestorius’ preferred term Χριστοτόκος[12], and the Ecumenical Council at Constantinople in 381 A.D., at which the divinity and equality of the Holy Spirit with the Father and the Son was confirmed and the Niceno-Constantinopolitan Creed was completed, were founded upon the decrees established and Faith confirmed at Nicaea.[13] The Ecumenical Councils collectively and authoritatively sought to preserve the Orthodox Faith against doctrinal and behavioral deviations by and among certain members of the Flock, and the canons and decisions that resulted from these Councils define and safeguard the Faith of the Church until today. The Orthodox Churches continue to adhere to the Faith defended at the aforementioned Ecumenical Councils and the decisions of these Councils, for the sake of faithfully delivering the deposit of Faith, as was received from Christ, through the Apostles, and in the Church, to past, present, and future generations of Orthodox Christians. — [1] Ware, The Orthodox Church: An Introduction to Eastern Christianity, 19. [2] Letter of Arius to Alexander of Alexandria [3] Walker, A History of the Christian Church, 134. [4] Behr, The Nicene Faith, 152. [5] Danielou and Marrou, The First Six Hundred Years, 1:252. [6] Behr, The Nicene Faith, 152. [7] Danielou and Marrou, The First Six Hundred Years, 1:252-253. [8] Behr, The Nicene Faith, 155. [9] Schaff, A Select of the Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church. Ser. 2, 14, 69–70. [10] Ibid., 114 [11] 1st Timothy 3:6 [12] Schaff, A Select of the Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church. Ser. 2, 14, 419 [13] D’Ambrosio, When the Church Was Young, 200–201. — Mr. Kyrillos Tadros is a seminarian presently completing his studies at the Antiochian House of Studies and a Reader in the Coptic Orthodox Church serving in New Jersey. His interests and research encompass scriptural exegesis, liturgics, liturgical vestments, and patristics. He can be reached at kjtadros9@gmail.com. This article is an adaptation of a paper submitted by Mr. Tadros for “Church History I: The Christian Church from Its Foundation through the Seventh Century,” offered by Fr. Michel Najim in Fall 2020 at AHOS. DossPress.com is a place for Christian men and women to collaborate for the sake of our common edification by sharing their written works. As we strive to uphold a standard of doctrinal and spiritual soundness in the articles shared, we note nonetheless that the thoughts expressed in each article remain the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect those of Doss Press.

Encountering the sunrise on Waimanalo Beach is one of the most incredible experiences. The Hawaiian breeze brushes across my face as the sun’s rays peek from the horizon. God orchestrates a symphony as the waves crash against each other, blending with the tune of the red-tailed tropicbirds. He swipes His fingers over the dark cloudy canvas with the most striking yellows, oranges, and reds. As I grab handfuls of sand and let them cascade through my fingers, I experience God’s extraordinary masterpiece. But amidst this paradisal landscape, one vexing question echoes in my mind: What am I really doing here? Traveling 4,500 miles away from my quiet Ohio country home to the populated tropical rock of Oahu in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, I experienced quite a cultural shift. Fresh out of high school, I had no intention of going to Hawaii, but I knew I wanted to serve God by doing mission work. None of my research about where to go or what to do led me to the West Coast. After spending a month in Hawaii with my family, Father Anastasi Saint Anthony, who was searching for a mission coordinator, suggested for me to take on this role and offered that I live at St. Mark’s Coptic Orthodox Church for however long I could. For the first time in my life, God’s will for my next step was incredibly clear to me. As my time in Hawaii began, I quickly learned that I would be receiving much more than those I hoped to serve. My suspicions that I would be a student of humility were quickly realized as I began to encounter mentors and teachers in the form of all kinds of people. Indeed, the true diversity of people lies in gifts, not in color. Little Tony taught me that joyfulness does not depend on circumstances; Uncle Mako taught me that true humility lies in understanding creation; Ten-year-old Mikey taught me that every human being is beautiful, as he excitedly introduced me to every adult and child at his shelter; Abbi helped me recognize that seemingly insurmountable tribulations can be overcome with the Lord Jesus Christ. As I continued serving that year, I found myself in a constant state of awe at the vibrancy of God’s creations — in both Hawaii’s beautiful scenery and its beautiful people. I often contemplated what my real purpose was for being in Hawaii. I wished to help others, but felt foolish, as it seemed that I was doing all the receiving: making food for the homeless felt like a tremendously uneven trade when compared to the deep lessons I was learning; playing tag with orphaned children did not feel like mission work, as it was just as fun for me as it was for them; the conversations I had with indigenous youth while planting and weeding Taro plants were eye-opening and fulfilling. Realizing my duties as mission coordinator seemed to me to be the only way I was helping. I encountered many kinds of people as various groups arrived to the island throughout the year. Some volunteers signed up for mission work and possessed an easily-identifiable sincere heart keen on service, while others came hoping to enjoy a vacation disguised as mission work. I realized Oahu can become a stumbling block for the foolish because the temptation for the pleasures of this world is stronger there. To counteract and avoid these pitfalls in myself, I had to define for myself what mission work truly entails. As I compared the behaviors of these various groups, I concluded that mission work has nothing to do with the self, requiring instead a complete denial of the pleasures of the world in order to find and serve Christ and His people. Human nature defaults to serving the self, but the Lord Jesus Christ commands us to deny ourselves (see Matthew 16:24). How can I give measly sandwiches to the poor and then have sushi soon thereafter? How can I find Christ in Poke restaurants, luaus, or Waikiki’s glamorous shopping malls? As Uncle Jonathan taught me, finding Christ — finding Love — requires forgetting myself so I can witness Him in His creation — in His children and in nature. It was in the poorest of the poor that I found Christ. Waikiki, Hawaii (like many major cities) is divided between the poorest of the poor and the richest of the rich. Spending time with both groups, I learned that it is the rich who are poorer than the poor. Amongst the homeless, I felt a great fulfillment because many of them were Christian and had a sense of purpose in Christ. Their joy was not dependent upon their circumstances. I was uplifted. During these times, I remembered my own home and community in Ohio and realized that people in my own city, while financially stable and of a “respectable” socioeconomic status, are in many ways poorer than those poor men and women I saw and with whom I interacted, albeit in a different way: while some do lack money, many others lack purpose and true kinship. Of all the lessons I learned during my time in Hawaii, perhaps the greatest lesson about mission and love came from Uncle Jonathan. We met at the littered park of Waikiki, which was full of men, women, and children with skin blemishes and scorched sun marks sound asleep on their beds of grass. The scents of the salty ocean breeze and sunscreen mixed with the distant but distinct smell of urine. As I stepped aside from the group to answer a call from another organization and shield myself from the scorching sun, I locked eyes with this smiley elderly man. When I noticed him hobbling toward me with a shopping cart full of all he owned (a popular way for the homeless to carry their belongings there), I quickly ended my phone call and met him halfway. In his cart were a few booklets about Christ, an old worn-out Bible, a notebook in similar condition, some food cans, two water bottles, a small bag with three stale pieces of bread, a thin blanket neatly folded, and a flimsy, ineffective pillow. His eyes crinkled as he smiled again, and, without saying a word, he bent over his cart and fished around. I did not know what he was doing until he shakily reached for my hand, turned it so my palm faced upward, and placed into it a water bottle and a piece of bread. Too awestruck by his self-denying gesture to do anything but blink, I remained silent. As he turned to find the next recipient of his generosity, I jerked back to life and stepped alongside him to return the bread and water, assuring him that I did not need anything and thanking him for what he did. I explained that I was with the organization that was currently handing out sandwiches. He responded with a quiet belly laugh, so hearty that I could not help but laugh too. So began an unlikely friendship. He explained his situation and how he was introduced to Christianity. We sat on the park bench eating our sandwiches. He spoke about his life and I spoke about mine. He was frequently the one to comfort me when he saw the tears welling up in my eyes as I heard him recount his suffering. I could not bear his selflessness. Little did I know, this would be the first of many encounters with Uncle Jonathan. Throughout the year, he taught me many lessons, but the theme that shined through all of his stories and actions was merely love. I learned that the only requirement to do mission work, or any type of service for Christ’s sake, is to love. Uncle Jonathan, who had very close to nothing, denied himself to give me what little he had. Love. I feel that I must debunk the myth that one must travel to exotic places to do mission work. I must assert that these journeys change us more than those we intend to help. When we travel for the sake of mission work for two weeks and return to the comfort of fancy cars, memory foam pillows, and air-conditioned homes, we forget about the call to serve. The habit of service has not yet solidified in us. We forget that our own cities, communities, neighbors, and even our families are in need. Our local homeless shelters and orphanages are just as in need as the dry side of Oahu. The call to serve is the call to love. Are not all acts of service simply acts of love? St. Peter wrote, “And above all things have fervent love for one another, for ‘love will cover a multitude of sins.’ Be hospitable to one another without grumbling. As each one has received a gift, minister it to one another, as good stewards of the manifold grace of God” (1 Peter 4:8-10). There is a different type of mission service that does not require preaching the gospel or giving food to the homeless. It is to reach out to those in despair and loneliness — those with no purpose. It is simply to love. It is as easy as sending a text to a struggling friend, letting them know that you are praying for them, or buying your coworker a coffee because yesterday was a rough day, or holding a screaming baby so the mother can rest for fifteen minutes. Real love is fearless. It is to see people as Christ sees them. There are many ways within our own reach to minister every day without needing to say a word. Mother Teresa declared, “Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.” Mindlessly spilling the sand back and forth between my fingers, I sat before God’s exquisite masterpiece and pondered my purpose. Serving in Hawaii for a year was a beautiful adventure that God arranged for me. Service, humility, and love were redefined for me. The call to serve did not end with my trip, but was all the more magnified by the experience. I learned I can continue that call right here from my quiet country home. No matter the exotic opportunities given to me, God’s work is not done. The Lord declared, “For you have the poor with you always.” (Matthew 26:11) He did not profess, “His poor are only in far-off lands across oceans.” The needs of God’s children are plentiful everywhere because sin and corruption produce poverty everywhere. No one is exempt from sin, but love is its antidote. To serve (anywhere) is to love. — Cover Image: Sunrise over Waimanalo Beach, captured by Anastasia Bibawy. Image Original. — Anastasia Bibawy was mission coordinator at The Hawaiian Mission for one year following high school. She is currently pursuing an undergraduate degree and hopes to one day open a music studio to teach children how to play the violin. DossPress.com is a place for Christian men and women to collaborate for the sake of our common edification by sharing their written works. As we strive to uphold a standard of doctrinal and spiritual soundness in the articles shared, we note nonetheless that the thoughts expressed in each article remain the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect those of Doss Press.

The following is an original English translation of a Homily delivered by H.H. Pope Shenouda III at his weekly Wednesday Meeting on August 22, 1990. In the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit: One God. Amen. I wish to speak with you today about our preeminent teacher, Archdeacon Habib Girgis, to whom we all owe a debt of gratitude and without whom we would neither be seated in this place now nor would we have any understanding or knowledge. To speak about Habib Girgis, it behooves me to first speak about the time in which he lived, and whether it assisted the existence of a person of that sort. If I speak of him, I must recall certain verses found at the beginning of the book of Genesis: “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form, and void; and darkness was on the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters. Then God said, ‘Let there be light…’” (Genesis 1:1-3a). This light, of course, was Habib Girgis. How was the earth “without form, and void; and darkness was on the face of the deep?” The generation that preceded Habib Girgis and in which he lived in his youth was among the worst times that have faced the Church — from every angle. [] The priests were uneducated and did not know preaching or teaching. The most educated priests, when teaching the people, would merely take one of the old books and read from it an ancient homily. No one knew teaching whatsoever. There was no preaching and no Sunday School. Before, there were some booklets from which they learned hymns and the word of God, inasmuch as the ‘urafa’[1] were able to teach. And the ‘urafa’ were not intellectuals as they are in our days. Today, in the Didymus Institute, which graduates ‘urafa’, they study rites and the Holy Bible, the Coptic language, spirituality, and many other things, [including] Braille, and they could read the Bible [in Braille]. This was nonexistent. As a result of this state of darkness which was devoid of teaching, before [Habib Girgis] the denominations had begun to spread. Habib Girgis was born in 1876. Meaning 114 years have passed since his birth. The Protestant Church then was beginning to work [in Egypt]. Dr. [John] Hogg and Dr. [Andrew] Watson came, and their work began to spread, and they began to establish a headquarters in al-Azbakiyya and a headquarters in the American School in Assiūt, and they began to enter and work in al-Zarabi and Mir and Abū Tīj. There was no one to guard the flock. The Catholics also began to work and [made] a bishop for themselves, and the bishop [was] elevated to become a patriarch named Kyrillos Maqār, and then they began to have a bishop for the Bahāry[2] side, and a bishop for the Qiblī[3] side, and they began to become headquartered in Tahta, and the foreign schools and missionary schools began to work and the preeminent Copts began to study in these schools and therefore came out [of them] Catholics and Protestants, and the situation began to become chaotic. No education, no preaching, and not even doctrine — foreigners began to enter. There was nothing. Even the state of the Church from within had become confused. [] Errors began to become apparent, and laypeople began to enter the politics of the Church and began to say “let us create the Lay Council[4] and the Lay Council will handle the awqaf[5] of the Church and will begin to manage them.” And the Lay Council began in 1875 and 1882 — a law was promulgated and they began to hold the power in the Church. They clashed with Pope Kyrillos V and sent him to the monastery and brought the bishop of Sanabo[6] to replace him. The bishop of Sanabo, [which is] next to Dairut, was coming by train through Upper Egypt, and [] at every stop the metropolitan [of the area] would meet him to excommunicate him. [] The train was coming from Dairut. When it reached Assiūt, the metropolitan of Assiūt came out and excommunicated him. When it reached Minya, the metropolitan of Minya came out and excommunicated him. When it reached Benī Suef, the metropolitan of Benī Suef came out and excommunicated him. When it reached Gīza, the metropolitan of Gīza came out and excommunicated him. Until he received all of these excommunications and reached Cairo, and those in Cairo also excommunicated him. To the point that he, undeterred, went to the church [], and when he came to offer the Eucharist, the chalice fell from [his hands], things became disorderly, and the Church began to become confused — the pope is exiled, the bishop is excommunicated, the authority is in the hands of the laypeople, the denominations are working, there is no teaching. In this time, Habib Girgis was born. [] There was no Clerical School[7]. The ancient School of Alexandria that once existed was relocated after the fifth or sixth centuries from Alexandria to the monasteries, and its work ceased, remaining so until the days about which we are speaking. Habib Girgis was born in 1876. His father was Head Clerk of the Office of the Abolition of Slavery, which was an office that was created at the time of Khedive Ismā’īl as a humanitarian effort. His father passed away six years after his birth, and his mother accorded him a religious upbringing. Afterwards he enrolled in the Great Coptic School in Klot Bek in al-Azbakiyyah. He completed his primary [studies] and began his secondary studies, and was hard working and sharp. Then the Church found that things could not continue as they were, and needed to restore the Clerical College in order to teach people to become learned pastors to administer the churches. There was a previous attempt, and the Clerical College was in a run down area in al-Fajjālah, or near the Coptic School, and did not even have [benches] on which the students could sit [] and no support either financially or by food or drink, to the point that once, some time ago, Sargīos, who was a student in the Clerical College, organized a protest and said, “board it up or fix it up,” and it became a big issue. To the point that the students found the environment unavailing, so they left and there was nothing remaining. “The earth was without form, and void; and darkness was on the face of the deep.” Nevertheless “Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters.” The Spirit of God was waiting for the birth of Habib Girgis and when he would grow up to become a young man, and when he became fit to enroll in the Clerical College and to become a teacher and to entrust him with this great task. It happened that Hanna Bek Bakhūm went to the Coptic School to choose students to enroll at the Clerical College. They chose ten — five from among the students and five from the priests. The first student was Habib Girgis. He left the Coptic School and entered the Clerical College. They were ten [students]. The first two who graduated were Habib Girgis and Fr. Hanna Shenouda, whose son was Fr. Shenouda Hanna who [served] al-Kanīsa al-Mu’allaqa[8] and who departed long ago — ten or fifteen years ago. [] So Habib Girgis entered the Clerical College. What was the Clerical College in which Habib Girgis enrolled? They brought a principal for it whose name was Yūsuf Bek Manqariyūs, who was a history teacher and knew nothing about religion. He was not a religion teacher, but a history teacher — and secular history, not even Church history. There, [Habib Girgis] studied languages, history, geography, some sciences, and one lesson titled “Religion.” This was how the Clerical College was. Then they looked for a teacher of religion and did not find one — they found no religion teacher for the Clerical College. To the point that they thought to bring a Protestant teacher to teach religion, so they called al-Khawaja ‘Ayyād Marzūk, I believe his name was, to come, and he told them: “my path is different than yours; how can I teach?” So they brought Fr. Philotheos Ibrahīm. Fr. Philotheos Ibrahīm was in Tanta, and they transferred him to Cairo and entrusted him with the great St. Mark’s Church in Klot Bek, and he was the only one who knew religious education and had published works, so they had him teach religion in the Clerical College. He is considered the teacher of Habib Girgis. Besides, Fr. Philotheos Ibrahīm’s health had deteriorated — one day while he was teaching, he fell, so they took him home and he remained ill while the Clerical College remained without a teacher of religion. Finally, they chose the student Habib Girgis to teach religion to his fellow students while he was still a student in his last year. So he began to teach in the Clerical College while a student in the last year. Here, I would like to mention two foundational points from a psychological perspective. One person says, “when the Church is fixed, I will enter it,” while the other says: “I will enter it while it is weak and will work so that it is fixed.” Do you understand? I recall when I resigned from my job to become a teacher in the Clerical College, the situation was unfortunate at that time as well, and the students were protesting and had a sign [saying], “fix it up or board it up,” and had overtaken the dean’s room [] and closed it up. And it became a big issue. So one of the teachers told me, “is this the Clerical College for which you will resign from your job?” I told him, “but it is the Clerical College for which I will resign from my job.” We must enter and work, regardless of what the atmosphere is like. We enter and work. If we find trouble, we must strive so that it is corrected. But if each one who finds trouble steps aside or distances himself or flees, there will never be results. The Church in that time was ailing. When I say the Church, I mean the entire Church — from top to bottom, from Alexandria to Aswan, to Sudan, to Ethiopia. The people [then] were of a variety of sorts. One sort wept for the Church, saying: “What a loss, the glory of the saints is gone, what a loss!” And weeping did not benefit the Church and did not bring about any results. Weeping does not mend the Church. Some, seeing the Church ailing, swore and criticized and cursed the priests and cursed monasticism and cursed the bishops and cursed the patriarch himself, and these curses did not bring about any benefit. The Church is not mended by swearing. The Church is mended neither by weeping nor by swearing. The Lay Council also stood up and brought lawsuits against the metropolitans regarding how the awqaf and finances and such things could be placed under their command, and how they could take these things from them, and lawsuits and countersuits were being brought, and thousands were being spent on lawyers, and the Church was not benefitted by lawsuits. It was not benefitted by weeping, or screaming, or swearing, or lawsuits. Habib Girgis stood up, dug a foundation, and placed two foundational stones therein — one stone called the Clerical College and the other called Sunday School. And he repeated, “as for your people, they will be in blessing, thousands of thousands and ten thousand times ten thousand, doing your will.”[9] And he labored in the field of positive, edifying work. [] To say, “the Clerical College does not have one religion teacher, this does not mean that I will not enter the Clerical College; I will enter and strive, and I will become the religion teacher and will graduate teachers,” this is positive work. But for one to scream, another to curse, another to weep, another to fight, another to bring lawsuits, this is not what brings about results. What brought about results in the Church was Habib Girgis. When God saw the world dark on every side, “God said, ‘let there be light,’ and there was light,” and light began to dawn. Habib Girgis became a teacher in the Clerical College while still in his last year of study. He enrolled in 1893, and graduated in 1898, and he was a student in the Clerical College. He became principal of the Clerical College, or Dean of the Clerical College, twenty years later, in 1918. But because he was not yet the Dean did not mean that he would only teach. He began to circle the entire country, preaching in cities and villages and in every place, and he began to gather donations for the construction of the Clerical College. [] And people began to love his preaching. And elderly people who had no inheritors [donated to him], so he would take from them. He bought for the Clerical College 365 acres of waqf. He began to receive money and donations, and purchased more than 3000 meters of land in Mahmasha, and he began to work and build, so the Clerical College was built in Mahmasha, and he built for the Clerical College a church, so that the students could be trained in preaching and so that they could have liturgies for the students, which is the Church of St. Mary in Mahmasha, in which I taught Sunday School in 1939 []. At that time, we would call it the Church of the Clerical College, [and] Fr. Tawadros was teaching there, whose name [before ordination] was Mr. Tadros. He was the teacher of the Coptic language in the Clerical College who then become a priest and [continued] to teach at the Clerical College and pray in the Church of St. Mary in Mahmasha. Now [the church in Mahmasha] is alone.[10] [Habib Girgis] began to build the buildings and rejoiced greatly when he built it. I hold his book al-Qulliyah al-Iklīrīkiyah bayn al-mādī wa-al-hādir[11] which he published in 1938; he called the new building he built there “The Bride of Mahmasha.” But alas, this “Bride of Mahmasha” grew old, and her teeth fell out, and her hair fell out, and she was demolished and removed entirely, and we came to Anba Reweiss in 1953. We entered in 1952 and they evicted us, and then we returned in 1953 and have remained there until today. [] Habib Girgis continued to build the Clerical College. When he came to build the Clerical College, he said “my desires are thus: first, to purchase land; second, to build; third, to bring students to enroll; fourth, to cultivate competent teachers, so that I might elevate its standard so that the Ministry of Education might recognize it.” He made its level quite high. In the days of Habib Girgis, they studied logic, philosophy, Old Testament Hebrew, New Testament Greek, [and] Ecclesiastical Coptic. When Habib Girgis taught in the Clerical College, he was initially called the teacher of religion and then the teacher of theology, [and he was] teaching theology. So [they studied] all of the Church subjects. And he began to send out from among his students people to work. [] He sent out Sim’ān Selīdes, who became the teacher of theology after him. And Sim’ān Selīdes has great fame in the Clerical College, and he authored the book al-salāh ‘al-almuntaqilīn[12]. And he sent out Fr. Ibrahīm Attiya, who was named Ragheb Attiya, who became a teacher of preaching and then a teacher of theology. And he sent out Kāmel Mātta, who is now Fr. Mikhaīl Mātta in Quseya, who became the teacher of the Holy Bible. And he sent out Fr. Tawadros to teach Coptic language. And he sent out Mr. Yassa ‘Abdelmassīh, who was the trustee of the library of the Coptic Museum, to teach the Greek language. He began to send out generations. And Edward Yostos, who afterwards became Fr. Antonios al-Baramosī and then became Anba Dioscorus, Bishop of Menofiyyāh, who has since departed, to teach Church History. And thus subjects that were absent began to enter. Initially, there was only one lesson called “Religion.” Then it was called “the Science of Theology,” then there was Theology and Preaching, and then there was Theology and Bible Studies and Exegesis and Church History and Hymnology, and things began to become organized. He introduced [many] subjects and the level of the Clerical College began to increase, so students began to come and multiply. And he created two sections: one for proficiency and one baccalaureate, which subsequently became the primary and secondary sections, and so the school grew. And metropolitans graduated from it, such as Anba Sawīrus, the departed Metropolitan of Minya, and Anba Yakobos, Metropolitan of Jerusalem. And he had many friends from among the metropolitans who loved him, and he continued well in the Clerical College. Then he initiated the evening section in 1945, which was a collegiate section. The class in which I graduated, which was the first class of college students who graduated from the Clerical College, was only five students, no more. Only five students. The only one of them who entered the priesthood was myself, and the others had their services but were not devoted to religious teaching. He began to work by teaching. But Habib Girgis did not only care about teaching. Teaching in the Clerical College was one of many branches. Habib Girgis began to lead religious education in the entire Church. In 1900, he founded Sunday School, which was a class he taught in the old patriarchate. The group of youth he taught became teachers who went out [to teach in the] east and [the] west. In the ‘20s, Sunday School began to appear with strength. In Assiūt, the one in charge of it was named Labib al-‘Assāl, I believe, who was a teacher of geography [if I recall correctly] and had published an Atlas called Atlas al-‘Assāl. In the ‘30s, [Sunday School] began to grow and spread, and [Habib Girgis] called himself the General Secretary of Sunday School, meaning the general trustee. Then, in the reign of Pope Yu’annis XIX, the pope became the president of Sunday School, and the title of Habib Girgis became Deputy of His Excellency the Supreme President of Sunday School[13]. He began to bring for the Sunday School nice colored pictures, some of which were printed in Italy and some in Germany, and on the back of the picture was written the [Sunday School] lesson. He began to prepare curricula for ecclesial education, he began to prepare pictures for ecclesial education, he began to prepare lessons for ecclesial education, he began to prepare training [materials] for teachers of ecclesial education, and ecclesial education began to spread throughout the entire [Church]. Without him, we would not be teachers of ecclesial education, and we would not be servants, and you would not be [female] servants. He is the father and guide and leader, and he is the one who became responsible for leading this matter. He is considered the true originator of the Clerical College and the true originator of the ecclesial education of Sunday School. Habib Girgis was not satisfied with this. He said, “we must introduce teaching in the schools.” He began to communicate with the Ministry of Education; there was no [religious] education in the [schools]. Religion only became an official subject [in the schools] with Mohammad Nagīb. Before that, religion was not an official subject. So he said, “at least let us teach the children, at least in additional classes.” “Where will we find teachers?” “We will prepare [them], if even on a volunteer basis without pay.” “Fine, volunteers.” So he would prepare the teachers, he would encourage [them] to teach religion, and he would prepare religious curricula for them. He authored three books titled al-khilāsat al-īmāniyah[14]. And when teaching spread further he authored a book called Mabādi’ al-‘Akīdah al-Urthudhūksiyah[15], eight books — four for primary school and four for secondary school. He began to author books. [And regarding] the stories of the Holy Bible, he prepared three books titled al-Kanz al-anfas fi tarīkh al-Kitāb al-Muqaddas[16]. He began to work to author books for religious education. The teachers would tell him, “how can we teach religion? We do not know how!” So he would tell them, “I will prepare books for you.” He would prepare these nice books and every lesson had its picture, and the lesson had its ends and its spiritual meanings and everything, the teacher takes it prepackaged, like a peeled boiled egg. He began to enter religious education in the schools and to establish curricula for it and to author books for it. In 1909, he had authored [] al-khīlasat al-īmāniyah[17] and in 1913 the fifth edition was printed — every year he prepared a new edition, and the teachers and students longed for his books because he was teaching them religion. So he was responsible for the Clerical College, and Sunday School, and religious education in the schools, and establishing the curricula and lessons and authoring books and importing pictures, all of these things. And then he said “this is not enough; religious education needs something else.” So he began preaching. He was among the most powerful preachers of his day, and is considered the strongest preacher after Fr. Philotheos Ibrahīm, may God repose his soul. He began to preach in the cathedral, [and] the pope loved him — Pope Kyrillos V — and made him his personal deacon and the preacher of the great St. Mark’s Church, which was the patriarchate. He routinely preached at the patriarchate, and began to form religious societies to work by preaching — the churches were few in those days. He graduated from the Clerical College in 1898, and then all of Cairo had [very few churches]. The Church of St. Mark was there. In all of Shubra even after that time there was only one church — the Church of Saint Mary in Massarah. That was it. [] As for the other churches, in the ‘30s the Church of Anba Antonios began and the church in Toson, and even the church in Jazīrat Badrān was [established] in the ‘40s. And the church in al-Qolalī was one of the old churches. I am speaking about Shubra, which only had [the church of] Massarah. And then began the church in al-Giushi. Mr. Sidrāq built the Church of Anba Antonios and Mr. Matta Sawīrus founded the church in al-Giushi. And then every area began to make a church — [] the church in Rod al-Faraj did not exist at first. Its building began in the beginning of the ‘50s when Fr. Dawoud al-Maqarī began to go and build it. [] I was teaching Sunday School [] on the rooftop [of that church], which afterwards became the floor of the church that is there now. The first floor was built and then they built a second story on the rooftop so that it became a two story [building]. Preaching then was in the societies[18]. These societies were being built and did not even need to be licensed [] because the Ministry of Social Affairs did not yet exist. The Ministry of Social Affairs only came into existence at the end of the ‘30s, in ‘38 or ‘39. [] Before that, there was no Ministry of Social Affairs, and societies were easy for everyone to make. These societies had preaching, and trained people to teach and preach, and they were in charge of social services and took care of the poor and needy and the orphans and widows. The societies were the ones that took care of the villages and they were the ones that established the churches. In order to establish a church, a society would be established. The Society of Peace[19] established the Church of St. George in al-Giushi, the Society of Faith[20] founded the Church of St. George in Jazīrat Badrān, the Society of Love[21] established the Church of the Angel [Michael] in ‘Ayyad Bek, the Society of the Angel [Michael][22] instituted the Church of the Angel [Michael] in Toson. A society would be founded and the society would build the church. In the days of Habib Girgis, there were not many churches, so he worked in the societies. He would preach in the societies. The first sermon he delivered was in 1898 about the Christian religion, and he delivered it in a hall in the Great Coptic School. It was an eloquent sermon, and Tādrus Bek al-Manqabādī, who founded the Misr Newspaper, was in attendance and asked him for permission to print the sermon. After he printed it, he distributed it free of charge to the people because he enjoyed it. He then delivered a sermon at the Society of Growth[23], which established the church of Haret al-Sakayyīn, and which would publish a calendar. Pope Kyrillos V was in attendance, and the sermon took about an hour. The pope stood during the entirety of the hour, signing the cross towards him and towards the congregation. He was overjoyed. Nobody could preach, and here was this young prodigious man full of knowledge and understanding. He established many societies. [] He established the Society of Love[24] which took care of the poor, and the Great Central Society of the Faith[25]. He began in the Clerical College to establish societies for preaching such as the Society of Spreading the Word of Salvation[26] and the Society of the Soldiers of Christ[27] and the Society of Graduates[28]. And the societies spread. The Clerical College oversaw 84 branches of service as a result of the operative societies. The man taught, and not only taught but also filled the world with teachers. There came a time when he was not only the preeminent teacher in the Church but also the only teacher in the Church. And he began to cultivate teachers and graduate [them], and to send them into every village and every city. He was the first to attend to the service of the villages. He traveled throughout the entire country, on one hand to preach and teach and on the other to collect donations to build the Clerical College. Some would give him personal donations, but he would transfer even these to the Clerical College, remaining poor as he was. To the point that Pope Kyrillos V gifted him a home in which to reside, so he gifted it also to the Clerical College so that it would be a house for the ‘urafa’, for the school of the ‘urafa’. He was a wondrous man. He began to work in preaching everywhere. Once he gave a sermon in the Great Central Society [of the Faith][29] about the history of preaching and its importance in the Church. As soon as he finished, they printed it in a book. The book made a profit, but he dedicated all the money to the Society so that it could operate. For this reason, he lived in poverty. He lived in poverty and virginity. And all his siblings were celibate. Mr. Habib Girgis was celibate, his brother, Mr. Kamel Girgis, was celibate, and their sister was also celibate. The three lived to teach []. He worked in teaching in the Clerical College, he worked in religious education, he worked in Sunday School, and he worked in preaching. How else could he teach? He taught with his pen. He published a journal called al-Karmah. al-Karmah journal was the most powerful journal in its time. It was at an academic level and in it wrote the greatest authors in knowledge and understanding and also in position. It had ‘Aziz Bek ‘Osa, Gabriel Bek al-Tūkhī, Mr. Yassa ‘Abdelmassīh [who was] the trustee of the library of the Coptic Museum, Mr. Sim’an Selīdes, Mr. Takla Rizq who taught Science and Religion. It was a journal of the highest caliber. The al-Karmah journal was the first journal in our modern time to begin translating the sayings of the Fathers. He established it in 1907, and it continued for 17 years. “Why did it not continue,” you may ask. He bore all of its financial obligations until he could no longer do so. So it ceased for financial reasons. [] But the one who reads it finds an exceedingly high standard in science and knowledge for that time period. The man worked in education by teaching, preaching, authoring, publishing, and Sunday School. He was the leader in all of this. [] Afterwards he found that personal status issues were handled by the Lay Council. Before the law of ‘55 was passed, which transferred [ecclesial] personal affairs to secular courts that deal with personal affairs, the Lay Council oversaw those issues. He feared lest the Lay Council was doing things at its own whim, because it expanded the bases for divorce, and especially the regulation that was passed in ‘38, so he nominated himself to the Lay Council and would come out first or second or third in the ranking of the 24 [members]. The people loved him very much and voted for him. So he joined the Lay Council and attended the personal status [meetings]. He joined the Lay Council not because he desired membership, but for many reasons: to support the Clerical College in the Lay Council, to support religious education [], [and] to participate in the personal status cases []. So he was the [bastion] of the Faith in the Lay Council. Of course they did not elect him to be the trustee of the Lay Council because in that time they would choose the trustee [] from among the bashawāt. For example, Ibrahīm Fahmy al-Minyāwī [was] a Pasha and a trustee of the Lay Council, Habīb al-Masrī [was a] Pasha and a trustee of the Lay Council []; Tawfīq Doss Basha [is another example] []. And when the bashawāt decreased, they would choose from al-bahawāt, such as Azīz Bek Mishreqī. Of course he was not of those, but he was the religious representative. [] He was respected by the religious bodies, to the point that when Pope Kyrillos V would convene the Holy Synod, he would tell them: “why don’t you bring Habib Girgis, he is like us.” He loved him dearly. The best days he lived were the days of Pope Kyrillos V. He was nominated to the papacy three times, but was not chosen because he was not a monk. He was also nominated to the bishopric of Gīza in 1948, but the Holy Synod refused him because he was not a monk. He could have been a monk, but he remained as he was. He was an archdeacon. And he was a true archdeacon — completely devoted to religious education. His [spiritual] children and disciples became priests, while he remained a deacon. He remained a deacon his whole life. He could have been ordained a priest because his children were priests; he taught them and would kiss their hands because they were priests. And from among his children were bishops and metropolitans and hundreds of priests, but he remained a deacon, celibate, devoted to the service of teaching, with no function except that he was the teacher of the whole Church. He authored more than thirty books, besides 17 volumes of the al-Karmah journal. He served during the reign of four popes — Pope Kyrillos V, Pope Yu’annis XIX, Pope Macarius III, and Pope Yusāb II, in whose days he departed. When Pope Yu’annis went to Ethiopia, he took him with him, and there the emperor and empress presented to him certain badges and medals, which are now found in the museum we established for him. Habib Girgis was distinguished in his life by seriousness. [] Meaning since the establishment of the Clerical College, hundreds have graduated from it, but none like Habib Girgis. The famous graduates, who have a reputation in the Clerical College and who took things seriously, can be counted on the fingers. He was the first serious man [in the Clerical College]. He found no one to teach him, so he would sit in the library reading night and day. Reading! Who taught Habib Girgis? He studied a bit with Fr. Philotheos Ibrahīm, but he was ill and so [Habib Girgis] would consult him on only a few issues. But he began to read []. He authored books on spirituality, like Kitāb sirr al-taqwah[30] and Nazarāt rūhiyah fī al-hayāt al-Masīhiyah[31]. He found them not knowing what to say at funerals, so he authored a book called ‘Azā’ al-mu’minīn[32] containing lectures for funerals. He found that the spiritual songs [in the churches were] overtaken by the Protestants, so he authored three books of Orthodox spiritual songs. Even for young children, he authored a book called ‘In’ash al-damīr fī tarānīm al-saghīr[33]. He began to work. He was a poet, but not a poet as we are. I will tell you what I mean by “poet.” Habib Girgis as a poet — I recall when he departed in ‘51, and we issued a special volume in the Sunday School Journal about him, they asked me to write an article about Habib Girgis as a poet. So I said in the introduction to this article, I began to study Habib Girgis as a poet — the man did not study the meters of poetry,[34] nor its measuring units,[35] nor its scansions,[36] nor the zihāf[37], nor the ʿilla[38], nor its prosody,[39] nor its rhyme,[40] nor any of that. But he studied, as a deacon, the hymns of the Church. [] He would then produce a poem on the tune of a θεοτοκια, or a Ⲯⲁⲗⲓ, or one of the hymns of the Church. For example, he would study a hymn like Ⲁⲣⲓⲡⲁⲙⲉⲩⲓ[41], and then he would take its tune, the tune would fill his heart and mind, and then the words would disappear, and the tune would remain, and he would place his own words upon the tune. [] The experts in poetry then ask, “is this of the trembling meter[42] or the trilling meter[43] or the complete meter[44]?” Our great professor did not know trilling meter or trembling meter, but he knew Ⲁⲣⲓⲡⲁⲙⲉⲩⲓ. In this way, he created songs. He would take the hymn, repeat it until the tune stuck to his mind, and then place the words on the tune. And he became a poet in this way. This is Habib Girgis. And he created songs. The anthem of the Clerical College is an attuned poem [] on the tune of Fā’ilātun Fā’ilātun Fā’ilun, which is the trotting meter.[45] He did not know trotting meter, [] but he began to attune it. He wrote spiritual books, he wrote spiritual songs, he wrote books of condolence, he wrote books for Sunday School, he wrote books on the Holy Bible. Regarding doctrine, he wrote the book Asrār al-Kanīsah al-sab’ah[46]. He wrote the book al-Sakhra al-Urthūdhuksiyah[47] to answer other denominations — Protestants and Catholics. He began to work in every area. In history, he wrote the book al-Qiddīs Murqus[48]. He began to work in many areas; he entered all areas of education. You may find someone in the Clerical College who only knows one subject, but beyond it [he does not know]. But one like Habib Girgis could speak on any subject — he could speak on theology, doctrine, the Holy Bible, personal status, hymns, [in a word] everything. He led teaching in the entire Church and was known by all Copts from one end [of the country] to the other. Of course [he was not distinguished by] only seriousness in work, and his reliance on himself and God, and his self-edification, but also his consistent productive work. [] He encouraged the people and never criticized or rebuked or uttered a harsh word. Never. I remember in the poem I wrote about him, I recall that one of its stanzas says: لك اسلوب نقي طاهر ولسان أبيض الفاظ عارفه لم تنال بالذنب مخلوق ولم تذكر السؤ إذا محله وصفه [(Your behavior is pure and chaste; A tongue that is [pure] with familiar words. You do not accuse any creature of wrongdoing, and You do not mention evil if even it is apparent.)] He was a man who never criticized. One of the members of the Higher Committee of Sunday Schools once sent to Habib Girgis, who had published certain research, severe criticism, and [that person] recounted this [incident] in an article we published in the [special] volume of the Sunday School Journal issued on the occasion of the forty-day memorial [of Habib Girgis]. He says, “I sent him a strongly worded letter,” perhaps one that would have been intolerable to anyone besides Habib Girgis. What was the outcome? He did not become upset whatsoever, but rather sent to this young man a letter of thanks, saying to him: “I thank you for taking the time to read my research and I thank you for the comments you sent to me.” What is this! Habib Girgis was of this sort. I remember when I was a young man and there was a great love between myself and Habib Girgis, I would visit him weekly, especially during the final two years of his life on earth. What would happen, honestly, is I would place a notebook in my pocket, and at every visit I would record one or two sentences from which to benefit in my life, [] writing it in the notebook. I could never leave any of the visits without first recording a few words from the wonderful conversation. He was an incredibly meek person, to an unbelievable extent. Unbelievable! Once as I was contemplating the meekness of Habib Girgis, I was walking down the street, and I said: “Lord, if Habib Girgis is meek to this degree, how meek must You be!” How meek must God be [if Habib Girgis is so meek]! He was a wondrous man. Sometimes there would be a problem, and we would say, “so and so did this or that.” So he would respond, “why, my children, why did he do that? But no matter, it will be corrected, God willing. God will correct it.” Right away, he caught it and turned it [into a positive thing]. He was an example of meekness, powerful humility, the spirit of fatherhood, and exemplary spiritual ethics. Did I not tell you that he taught by way of preaching, teaching, authorship, publishing, and Sunday School? He also taught by way of his upright leadership. One would sit with him and walk away having learned several lessons, if only by looking at his face! Many times people criticized him and opposed him, and he would remain silent. Especially when the Sunday School nominated him to be metropolitan and the monks rose up against him, saying: “how can he be a metropolitan; he will destroy monasticism!” But how could he destroy monasticism? Monasticism has always been far removed from the priesthood. They began to oppose him. [] Someone nominates him to the papacy, and they would oppose him. Someone would nominate him to the bishopric, and they would oppose him. People praise him, and they would oppose him. [] Once, one of his students, whom he graduated from the Clerical College and who was a preacher, found Habib Girgis and began to curse at him extensively. There was another preacher who was serving in the same church and who was this man’s colleague, who had submitted a request for a raise from the Lay Council. Habib Girgis was responsible for the Committee of Churches, so he determined that the man who requested a raise was entitled to a raise []. He then said, “he is entitled to a raise, but he also has a colleague in the same church who is under the same circumstances, so he must also be given a raise like him.” Who was that man? The one who cursed at him. So he gave a raise to that man also, because it was right to do so, despite the fact that that man had been the one to curse at him. To the extent that after that preacher received the raise because of Habib Girgis’ advocacy, he went to him and wept [], saying: “I sinned against you. I did not know that you were like this.” He was gentle to the greatest degree. He worked positively and never responded at all to any criticism directed at him, whether from his children or his disciples or from jealous people or from those who were envious. He never responded whatsoever. He worked with positivity and did not involve himself [in such matters]. This is our professor, Habib Girgis, from whom we learned much. I recall at the forty-day commemoration we held for him on September 28, 1951, they asked me to recite a poem. I told them "Mr. Riyyād Surīel is more gifted than me in poetry and recites poetry powerfully," but they said: “no, we want you because you will say affectionate words, because you loved him.” [] It happened that Mr. Riyyād Surīel recited a poem, and I delivered an oration at that time. I do not know if I will recall it, but I remember saying هذه تقواك ايمان في حب هذه دنياك اشواق وصلب أنت من أنت؟ رسول ها هنا أنت أبهى من رسولا أنت قلب أنت قلب واسع في حضنه عاش جيل كامل بل عاش شعبه أنت نبع من حنان دافقا أنت عاطف أنت رفق أنت حب [(This is your piety: faith in love. This is your world: thorns and crucifixion. You, who are you? An apostle among us? But you are more exalted than an apostle. You are a heart. You are a wide embracing heart in which lived a full generation but a whole nation! You are a fountain of overflowing compassion. You are passion, you are companionship, you are love.)] And it ends by saying: و أب أنت و نحن يا أبي عشنا بالحب على صدرك نحن [(You are a father, and we, my father on your breast were nourished with love.)] This is the man that discipled an entire generation, and taught an entire generation. Some people write history, as we are doing now by speaking about the history of Habib Girgis. There are those who record history, and there are those who are more powerful — who make history. What does this mean? It means that they make the events that historians come later and record []. Mr. Habib Girgis is one who created our history, and at least created the history of the first half of the twentieth century. He worked at the end of the nineteenth century, but created the history of the first half of the twentieth century. Without him, we would not be here. We ask God to repose his pure soul in the paradise of joy. Let us say a small song and then I will speak to you about a small spiritual topic. [Here, Cantor Ibrahim Ayad chanted the hymn Ϧⲉⲛ Ⲫ̀ⲣⲁⲛ in honor of the Virgin Mary and Archdeacon Habib Girgis, and His Holiness proceeded with a sermon on the Virgin Mary]. — [1] Ar. عرافاء, lit. sages, denoting cantors/teachers. [2] Ar. بحري, lit. Nautical, denoting the northern area of Egypt, which is towards the Mediterranean Sea. [3] Ar. قبلي, lit. Tribal, denoting the southern area of Egypt. [4] Ar. المجلس الملي, lit. al-Majlis al-Millī. [5] Ar. أوقاف, singular وقف (waqf) denoting charitable donations and land endowments. [6] in the Assiut Governorate [7] Throughout the homily, His Holiness uses “Clerical College” to refer to the Coptic Orthodox Seminary at which Habib Girgis studied and subsequently served from 1893 until his death in 1951. We note that the institution was named the Clerical School (al-Madrasah al-iklīrīkiyah) from its inception until 1946, at which time it was renamed the Coptic Orthodox Seminary (Kulliyat al-lāhūt al-Qibtiyah). See Bishop Suriel, Habib Girgis: Coptic Orthodox Educator and a Light in the Darkness, 21. [8] lit. The Hanging Church, which is the ancient Church of Saint Mary in Old Cairo. [9] See the Three Long Litanies in the Coptic Orthodox Liturgical Prayers. [10] The church stood alone in Mahmasha in 1990 because the Clerical College had been relocated, as His Holiness will clarify hereafter. [11] The Clerical College Between Past and Present; cited by H.G. Bishop Suriel as al-Madrasah al-Iklīrīkiyah al-Qibtiyah al-Urthudhūksiyah bayn al-mādī wa-al-hādir (The Coptic Orthodox Seminary: Past and Present). [12] Prayer for the Departed. [13] Ar. نائب غبطط الرئيس الأعلى لي مدارس الأحد [14] The Doctrines of Faith; cited by H.G. Bishop Suriel as Kitāb khilāsat al-usūl al-īmāniyah fī mu’taqadāt al-Kanīsah al-Qibtiyah al-Urthūdhūksiyah (The Doctrines of the Coptic Orthodox Faith: A Foundational Synopsis). [15] Principles of the Orthodox Doctrine; cited by H.G. Bishop Suriel as al-Mabādi’ al-Masīhiyah al-Urthūdhūksiyah lil-madāris al-ibtidā’iyah (Christian Orthodox Principles for Elementary Schools). [16] The Invaluable Treasure in the History of the Holy Bible; cited by H.G. Bishop Suriel as al-Kanz al-anfas fi mulakhkhas al-Kitāb wa-al-tarīkh al-Muqaddas (The Invaluable Treasure: A Summary of the Bible and Biblical History). [17] The Doctrines of Faith. See footnote 14, above. [18] Jam’iyāt [19] Jam’iyat al-Salām [20] Jam’iyat al-Īmān [21] Jam’iyat al-Mahabbah [22] Jam’iyat al-Malāk [23] Jam’iyat al-Nash’ā [24] Jam’iyat al-Mahabbah [25] Jam’iyat al-Īmān al-Markāziyyā al-Qubrā [26] Jam’iyat Nushr Kālemat al-Khalās [27] Jam’iyat Junūd al-Massīh [28] Jam’iyat al-kharījīn [29] Jam’iyat al-Īmān al-Markāziyyā [30] The Mystery of Godliness. [31] Spiritual Perspectives in the Christian Life. [32] The Consolation of the Faithful. [33] Children’s Songs for Awakening the Conscience. [34] Ar. buhūr. [35] Ar. taf‘īlah. [36] Ar. wazn. [37] Minor variations of meter which only affect the cords. [38] Major variations which affect the beginning or end of a line. [39] Ar. ‘Arūd. [40] Ar. qāwafi, denoting the rule in rhymed poetry that every verse must end in the same rhyme. [41] A hymn for Good Friday and certain other somber rites in the Coptic Church. [42] Ar. Rajaz. [43] Ar. Hazaj. [44] Ar. Kamil. [45] Ar. Ramal. [46] The Seven Sacraments of the Church. [47] The Orthodox Rock. [48] Saint Mark; cited by H.G. Bishop Suriel as al-Qiddīs Murqus al-Anjīlī: Mu’assis al-Kanīsah al-Misriyah (Saint Mark the Evangelist: The Founder of the Egyptian Church). — To access the video of this lecture, please visit https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J7_99Xb8jWA&feature=youtu.be

Introduction Digital technologies such as Artificial Intelligence, Virtual Reality, and Social Media today predominate the non-physical online realm, transcending time and space and allowing for instantaneous communication and connectivity from any location globally. With this unprecedented technological proliferation, the notion of remoteness is quickly becoming obsolete, as even in the deserts, one can be completely engaged in and connected to a world of communication and information. Despite the overbearing inescapability of this modern immersive condition, the desert still lends her wisdom, for there can be found until today the richest Christian men and women following in the footsteps of those who have sought for centuries to fulfill through monasticism the high calling of Christianity. The founder of this monastic movement, Antony of Egypt, himself retreated to the desert in a quest to live out the Christian Faith in complete devotion, being convinced that the message of Christianity must be internalized and transfigured within himself so that he might fulfill the Lord’s command to be perfect.[1] Equipped with this conviction, Antony forsook all his possessions and began his long journey into the inner desert — a journey to perfect virtue and true Christlikeness — ultimately becoming the lamp of monasticism (as he is called in the Coptic Orthodox Tradition) and an example for all Christians. Antony recognized that Christianity properly lived requires unwavering personal devotion and complete integration into one’s life — the Christian is required to “put on Christ” (Romans 13:14) and not be “conformed to this world” (Romans 12:2). As online technological advancements continue to gain prevalence in people’s daily lives, imposing upon Christians a new “gospel,” a conscious consideration of the necessary features of the human experience according to the Christian framework is perhaps more necessary today than ever before.[2] Of these advancements, Artificial Intelligence, being by its very nature antithetical to and devoid of any measure of living experience, raises especially alarming concerns, particularly for evangelization and the Christian life. In contrast to several of those concerns, however, stands the life and standard of Antony, which remains until today a grounding example for Christian believers and emphasizes several features of the human experience which they must consciously guard within themselves in the face of the threats posed by these technologies. Encountering Antony of Egypt Journeying from his village to the desert, Antony sought to fulfill the calling of Christian discipleship to Christ, creating a balanced environment conducive to Christian formation[3] and not evading any component of the human experience. Athanasius’ description, in The Life of Antony, of Antony's emergence from the Roman fort in response to the demands of the masses depicts this state of balance that Antony achieved: “…Antony came forth as out of a shrine, as one initiated into sacred mysteries and filled with the spirit of God. It was the first time that he showed himself outside the fort to those who came to him. When they saw him, they were astonished to see that his body had kept its former appearance, that it was neither obese from want of exercise, not emaciated from his fasting and struggles with the demons: he was the same man they had known before his retirement. Again, the state of his soul was pure, for it was neither contracted by grief, nor dissipated by pleasure, not pervaded by jollity or dejection…No, he had himself completely under control — a man guided by reason and stable in his character.”[4] The balance of personal development with interpersonal communication and communal connection which Antony maintained deserves not only admiration, but also emulation,[5] for he became thereby the model of a complete Christian — “the man of God.”[6] Antony and the Self The primary resources pertaining to Antony — The Life of Antony, his sayings, and his letters — depict and emphasize the absolute necessity of sound identity formation in Christian experience, dependent upon scriptural internalization, virtue attainment, and enlightened self-understanding. This formation led Antony to order his life in submission to the Scriptures and thereby to become a conduit for the Lord to permeate the lives of his disciples. From a young age, Antony knew the Scriptures, contemplated upon them often, and took them personally. Upon hearing the Gospel being read in church shortly after his parents’ death, he submitted to its teaching and allowed it to radically transform his life. It was the Scriptures, after all, that initiated his journey into the wilderness. In his later encounters with demons, his mastery of the Scriptures is especially evident, as he used them as his shield to overcome demonic attacks.[7] His scriptural formation also flows seamlessly into his teaching: when many came to learn from him, he said to them, “The Scriptures are really sufficient for our instruction.”[8] Similarly, when asked what one must do “in order to please God,” he responded “…always have God before your eyes; whatever you do, do it according to the testimony of the holy Scriptures.”[9] His second letter,[10] moreover, is almost entirely formulated out of scriptural passages woven together. By thus internalizing the Scriptures, and that through memorization rather than relying on any exterior aids to merely read them,[11] Antony succeeded to embody them in his real lived experience. “[L]ike a wise bee,”[12] Antony built upon his scriptural grounding by cultivating within himself the good qualities he observed in virtuous people: “He observed the graciousness of one, the earnestness at prayer in another; studied the even temper of one and the kindheartedness of another…and in one and all alike he marked especially devotion to Christ and the love they had for one another.”[13] Understanding the necessity of good works,[14] he urgently worked to internalize and assimilate virtuous qualities in himself[15] rather than simply observing and admiring virtuous people. He would later teach his disciples: “Really, [virtue] is not far from us, nor is its home apart from us; no, the thing is within us, and its accomplishment is easy if we but have the will. Greeks go abroad and cross the sea to study letters; but we have no need to go abroad for the Kingdom of Heaven nor to cross the sea to obtain virtue.”[16] By pursuing virtue, Antony became a powerful witness to the Lord, so that those whom he imitated[17] identified him as “God’s Friend” even though he strove to surpass them in virtuosity.[18] His virtue thus became a powerful instrument of evangelization and exhortation, attracting many to the desert to encounter and imitate him.[19] Having learned the Scriptures and become virtuous, Antony recognized and frequently emphasized the importance of knowing oneself. Echoing the advice of Paul the Apostle to Timothy (1 Timothy 4:16), he advised his disciples to know themselves — at least six times in his first seven Letters — for “he who knows himself knows God and his dispensations for his creatures.”[20] He consequently identified any doctrinal or behavioral deviance from the Faith of the Church as a result of improper self-understanding and a failure to cultivate the fruits of the Spirit in oneself: “As for Arius…that man has begun a great task, an unsealable wound. If he had known himself, his tongue would not have spoken about what he did not know. It is, however, manifest, that he did not know himself.”[21] In knowing himself, moreover, Antony recognized his natural dependence upon his brethren in the Faith, and was for this reason deeply concerned with his neighbors in the world as they struggled against general laxity in spiritual life[22] and consequent heresy. He therefore takes up the medium of writing in order to exhort them to take personally and submit to the true Christian Faith: “I beseech you, my beloved in the Lord, who are joint heirs with the saints, to raise up your minds in the fear of God.”[23] Antony and Community Believing that “…he who loves his neighbor loves God, and he who loves God loves his own soul,”[24] Antony sought his salvation not only in the context of solitude, but also in that of interaction and communication with others. Upon commencing his monastic commitment, Antony first discipled himself to an elder, and sought to maintain this discipleship when he desired to venture deeper into the desert: “He met the old man referred to above[25] and begged him to live with him in the desert.”[26] Later, he would become a father and teacher to monks,[27] caring not only for their spiritual wellbeing, but also for their physical nourishment: “…seeing that people were coming to him again, he began to raise a few vegetables too, that the visitor might have a little something to restore him after the weariness of that hard road.”[28] Later, when he was ninety years old, Antony sought out Paul of Thebes, who had undertaken monasticism prior to him, and traveled to visit and converse with him.[29] Interestingly, the first question Paul asked Antony was “how fares the human race?”[30] While Antony and Paul retreated to the desert, seeking in its stillness to discern the voice of God, they nevertheless remained deeply connected to the city and community of believers, understanding, in Antony’s own words, that “our life and our death is with our neighbour.”[31] Evidently, Antony did not leave for the desert to escape from human interaction, but rather out of his longing for a deeply contemplative atmosphere, away from the distractions of the city, in order to live in complete relation with God,[32] recognizing that “silence is necessary for prayer and for effective communication.”[33] He therefore remained connected to and interested in the affairs of the city, saying to those who came to him, for example: “Be you, therefore, like children and bring to your father what you know and tell it, while I, being your senior, share with you my knowledge and my experience.”[34] Having heard of the spread of Arianism, Antony traveled to Alexandria to encourage the faithful in their defense of the orthodox Faith: “The entire city ran together to see Antony. Pagans, too, and even their so-called priests came to the church saying: ‘We would like to see the man of God’ — for so they all called him…and, indeed, as many became Christians in those few days as one would have seen in a year.”[35] At the time of the persecution under Maximin, Antony went again to the city, longing to suffer martyrdom, and “ministered to the confessors in the mines and in the prisons.”[36] His care for the edification and salvation of all is evident even in his interaction with Emperor Constantine, who had written to him. Although he “did not like to accept letters, saying that he did not know what to answer to such things,” he decided to write back to Emperor Constantine simply so that he could exhort him “not to think highly of the things of this world, but rather to bear in mind the judgment to come; and to know that Christ alone is the true and eternal King. He begged them to show themselves humane and to have a regard for justice and for the poor.”[37] The importance of interpersonal communication and community to Antony is therefore easily perceptible. Along with offering his guidance to the monastic community that was forming around him, seeking in the process to balance his social interaction with personal reflection, Antony communicated with Christian believers generally through visits and letters. In a word, having actively and intentionally submitted to and identified with the Christian message, Antony permitted it to mold him into an icon of the Lord Jesus, becoming in the process the image of what it means to be a truly living human, “the glory of God.”[38] His witness and life therefore became the inspiration for the monastic movement until today, converting and leading countless people into a deeper love of and life with Christ. Artificial Intelligence and the Human Experience Contrary to the immersive, incarnate, and deeply personal experience of Christianity as expressed and lived in the person of Antony of Egypt, modern technologies discarnate the human experience, being deeply formative and developmental, even at the neurological level.[39] Moreover, as Neil Postman points out: “Technology…carries with it a program, an agenda, and a philosophy that may or may not be life-enhancing and that therefore require scrutiny, criticism, and control.”[40] It is necessary, then, to examine the place of digital technologies in the human experience, especially as humanity furthers its dependence on such mediums. Indeed, “a discarnate world, like the one we now live in, is a tremendous menace to an incarnate Church.”[41] Artificial Intelligence and the Self Artificial Intelligence, more than the digital technologies that preceded it, is a deeply non-human technology, facilitating creation without human involvement and depriving products of the human element that was previously inherent to their production. Romano Guardini, in observing the rise of machine reliance, makes an important distinction: in times past, “people did, of course, use tools and aids in great numbers and with great delicacy. But these were only supports, extending the range of activity of natural human organs…and a limit was always set to make possible direct and living execution.”[42] With the availability of Artificial Intelligence, however, a human can simply command technology to produce a desired product, and within moments, that product is packaged together irrespective of that person’s knowledge, skillset, or experience, and without their contribution. Walter Ong comments: “Knowledge is hard to come by and precious, and society regards highly those wise old men and women who specialize in conserving it, who know and can tell the stories of the days of old. By storing knowledge outside the mind, writing and, even more, print downgrade the figures of the wise old man and the wise old woman, repeaters of the past, in favor of younger discoverers of something new.”[43] Because the need to internalize information is minimized by Artificial Intelligence, its user is made perpetually dependent upon it, rendering it the arbiter of truth, knowledge, and goodness: “The manner in which one asks a search engine, the algorithms of an artificial intelligence, or a computer for answers to questions that concern private life reveals that one relates to the device and its response with a fideistic attitude.”[44] Such technology therefore divests the human of humanity, substituting knowledge and firsthand experience with emptiness and reliance on exterior aids for information and fulfillment. Artificial Intelligence and Community Artificial Intelligence’s divestment of humanity’s humanity also carries communal consequences. As a powerful analytical tool, Artificial Intelligence introduces a novel way of thinking: “This knowledge does not inspect; it analyzes. It does not construct a picture of the world, but a formula. Its desire is to achieve power so as to bring force to bear on things, a law that can be formulated rationally. Here we have the basis and character of its dominion: compulsion, arbitrary compulsion devoid of all respect.”[45] Establishing a new primary residence for humanity within the virtual world and introducing a new role for humanity as spectator rather than creator, Artificial Intelligence threatens humanity’s very nature: “What takes place here is not human, at least if we measure the human by the human beings who lived before us. It is not natural if we measure the natural by nature as it once was.”[46] Having identified such trends in the early stages of the technological age, Guardini remarks: “A system of machines is engulfing life. It defends itself. It seeks free air and a secure basis. Can life retain its living character in this system?”[47] Only in the ecclesial community, “the place where the experience of God creates communion and the sharing of life,”[48] in the real, physical world, can life retain its living character.[49] Christianity, as experienced by Antony, is wholly concerned with reality, and is inherently meant for life — personal and communal experience. Through primarily physical means of encounter and perception, one most effectively “tastes” (Psalm 34:8) the Christian message and becomes transformed by it, allowing it to permeate his encounters with others. It was in this way that Antony succeeded to inspire others to venture deeper into the Faith. His effort in evangelization and exhortation flourished without the aid of any sophisticated technologies because it was purely and wholly incarnate. Michelle Borras identified that “since the Gospel is a message of the incarnate Love that alone saves, it can only be proclaimed adequately in an incarnate way…The Gospel must always have a ‘face.’”[50] Because Antony internalized the Christian message and lived through it, thereby allowing it to reflect the love of Christ to others, the Gospel in him indeed had a face — the face of Christ. Conclusion The monastic movement was inaugurated by Antony as Christian men and women imitated him by flocking to the desert to embody and live out the Christian message of discipleship to Christ. Understanding that the Faith must be taken personally, Antony and all who imitated him left the world for the desert in order to focus on fulfilling the divine commandments. Thus, in writing The Life of Antony, Athanasius exhorts his readers “to model [their] lives after his zeal”[51] and advises that his biography be read even to pagans.[52] Artificial Intelligence, being by nature an external and non-human tool of creation, is in contrast an obstacle to venturing into a personal and intimate relationship with God, developing within the human an authenticity-limiting exterior dependency in creativity, communication, and informational retention. Artificial Intelligence’s inability to capture or express human life and spirit is evident in a simple yet revealing exercise: when tasked with writing a doxology for Antony, ChatGPT produced a biographical, impersonal, and detached composition[53] in comparison to the personal and exhortatory doxology for Antony authored by Coptic Orthodox believers for liturgical prayer.[54] If we “hope for the word of God to dwell in us richly in the digital age,”[55] Artificial Intelligence and similar technologies must be thoroughly examined in light of the ethos of Christianity, with those among these technologies that do not comport with the Christian “spirit and life”[56] being actively guarded against, lest by becoming tools of evangelization and mediums for Faith delivery and formation, they compromise rather than uphold the message and spirit of Christianity. — [1] He reached this understanding through hearing the words of the Scriptures being read during the liturgical service: “If you would be perfect, go, sell what you possess and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven, and come, follow Me” (Matthew 19:21); “Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow” (Matthew 6:34). Antony understood these divinely-inspired words as being “directed especially to him” (See Athanasius, The Life of Antony 2-3, in Robert T. Meyer, Ancient Christian Writers: The Works of the Fathers in Translation, Volume 10: St. Athanasius: The Life of Saint Antony, 19-21). [2] Daniella Zsupan-Jerome notes: “After [the Word], communication of his good news becomes the Spirit-led task of the Church. This age-old mission to communicate is at the heart of the Church. From this perspective, the digital media are but the latest chapter in the long story of how the Church has gone about expressing this identity and mission to communicate” (Connected Toward Communion: The Church and Social Communication in the Digital Age, 2). [3] Daniella Zsupan-Jerome offers a definition to Christian formation as being “part of the language of articulating the task of catechesis, the process by which believers are nurtured toward conversion of mind and heart to Jesus Christ” (Ibid., 10-11). [4] Athanasius, The Life of Antony 14 (Meyer, 32) [5] See Ibid., Prologue (Meyer, 17) [6] See Ibid., 93 (Meyer, 96) [7] See e.g., Ibid., 6-7, (Meyer, 23-26) [8] Ibid., 16 (Meyer, 33) Antony sought to understand the Scriptures even through personal encounters with the saints. When he found difficulty with a passage of Scripture, for example, he did not first seek to discover its meaning in books, but rather “went out into the desert…a long way off and stood there praying, crying in a loud voice, ‘God, send Moses, to make me understand this saying.’ Then there came a voice speaking with him” (Benedicta Ward, The Sayings of the Desert Fathers, 7 (Anthony the Great, Saying 26)). [9] Benedicta Ward, The Sayings of the Desert Fathers, 2 (Anthony the Great, Saying 3) [10] See Samuel Rubenson, The Letters of St. Antony: Monasticism and the Making of a Saint, 203-205 [11] “Again, he was so attentive at the reading of the Scripture lessons that nothing escaped him: he retained everything and so his memory served him in place of books” (Athanasius, The Life of Antony 3 (Meyer, 21)). In response to those who sought to discredit him for not receiving any schooling, Antony also said: “…one who has a sound mind has no need of letters” (Ibid., 73 (Meyer, 80)). [12] Athanasius, The Life of Antony 3 (Meyer, 20) [13] Ibid., 4 (Meyer, 21) [14] See e.g., Matthew 5:16; James 2:14-26; Titus 2 [15] See Athanasius, The Life of Antony 4 (Meyer, 21-22) [16] Ibid., 20 (Meyer, 37) [17] See 1 Corinthians 11:1 [18] Athanasius, The Life of Antony 4 (Meyer, 21) [19] See e.g., Ibid., 46 (Meyer, 59-60) [20] See e.g., Rubenson, 208 [21] Ibid., 211 [22] “The Peace of Constantine, which brought about mass conversions, had the paradoxical effect of diminishing the lay contribution to the activity and holiness of the Church. Monasticism is a witness to this fact; for the monk is not a layman, and his status is to be explained as a reaction against the growth of mediocrity in the ranks of the simple faithful. The fervent part took its stand deliberately, and as an institution, over against the majority of the flock. This is no matter for surprise; the ideal conditions for a full Christian life do not coincide with taking things easy” (Henri de Riedmatten, “The Part of the Laity in the History of the Church” in Blackfriars, November 1958, Vol. 39, No. 464, p. 458). [23] Rubenson, 230 [24] Ibid., 222 [25] See Athanasius, The Life of Antony 3 (Meyer, 20) [26] Ibid., 11 (Meyer, 29) [27] Ibid., 14 (Meyer, 32-33) [28] Ibid., 50 (Meyer, 63) [29] See Jerome, The Life of Paulus the First Hermit [30] Ibid., 10 [31] Ward, 3 (Anthony the Great, Saying 9) [32] “This making a City of the Wilderness was no mere flight, nor a rejection of matter as evil…It was rooted in a stark realism of faith in God and acceptance of the battle which is not against the world-rulers of this darkness, against the spiritual things of wickedness in the heavenly places” (Derwas Chitty, The Desert A City, xvi). [33] Fr. Jonah Lynch, FSCB and Michelle K. Borras, Technology and the New Evangelization: Criteria for Discernment, 30 [34] Athanasius, The Life of Antony 16 (Meyer, 33-34) [35] Ibid., 70 (Meyer, 79) [36] Ibid., 46 (Meyer, 59) [37] Ibid., 81 (Meyer, 87) [38] See Irenaeus, Against Heresies IV.XX.VII [39] “Gutenberg attaches itself to the left hemisphere [of the brain]; the oral, the acoustic and consequently the electric, to the right hemisphere” (Marshall McLuhan, The Medium and the Light: Reflections on Religion, 52). [40] Neil Postman, Technopoly: The Surrender of Culture to Technology, 185 [41] McLuhan, 50 [42] Romano Guardini, Letters from Lake Como: Explorations in Technology and the Human Race, 66 [43] Walter J. Ong, Orality and Literacy: The Technologizing of the Word, 41 [44] Pontifical Council for Promoting the New Evangelization, Directory for Catechesis 366 [45] Guardini, 44 [46] Ibid., 73 [47] Ibid., 49 [48] Pontifical Council for Promoting the New Evangelization, Directory for Catechesis 372 [49] Timothy O’Malley, emphasizing the importance of liturgical participation to evangelization efforts, writes: “Liturgical prayer is essential to the new evangelization. Precisely, because in every liturgical rite, we human beings return to our vocation as those made in the image and likeness of God. We are capacitated for the kind of self-gift, which comes to transfigure society. Those who return to our sacramental life should encounter there a beautiful and humanizing liturgy, one that elevates the desires of the human heart, allowing them to become an offering of love to the Father. We are immersed in a cosmos in which the primary narrative is not one of grasping, seizing, but the prodigal logic of self-gift. Lay communities, connected to parishes, may incarnate this liturgical life in concrete ways in cities and rural areas as we seek to manifest to the world that wisdom of a Catholic life, given over to the sacramental logic of the triune God” (Liturgy and the New Evangelization: Practicing the Art of Self-Giving Love, 132). [50] Lynch and Borras, 27-28 [51] Athanasius, The Life of Antony Prologue (Meyer, 17) [52] See Ibid., 94 (Meyer, 98) [53] The ChatGPT-produced doxology reads: “Praise be to Antony, the desert’s sage, whose wisdom guided countless souls on pilgrimage. In solitude he found divine embrace, a beacon of light for all seeking grace. With fervent heart and humble ways, he taught love, compassion, and righteous praise. In Egypt’s sands, his spirit soared high, a timeless legacy that will never die. Amen.” [54] “Remove from your hearts the thoughts of evil and the pretentious images that darken the mind. Contemplate with understanding the great miracles of our blessed father, my great lord Abba Antony — this is he who became our guide and harbor for salvation; he invited us with joy to the eternal life. The fragrance of his virtues delighted our souls, like the blossomed aroma in the Paradise. Let us truly be confirmed in the upright faith of the great Antony, proclaiming and saying: ‘I sought and I found; I asked and I was given; I knocked and I believed that it will be opened for me’ (see Matthew 7:7-8; Jerome, The Life of Paulus the First Hermit 9). Hail to our father Antony, the lamp of monasticism; hail to our father Abba Paul, the beloved of Christ. Pray to the Lord on our behalf, O my masters and fathers who love their children, Abba Antony and Abba Paul, that He may forgive us our sins” (Coptic Doxology for St. Antony). [55] See Zsupan-Jerome, xv [56] See John 6:63 — This paper is an adaptation of course work submitted for “Evangelization, Media, & Technology,” offered by Dr. Brett Robinson in Summer 2023 at the University of Notre Dame. I express my gratitude to Dr. Robinson for his helpful guidance and encouragement, and wish to acknowledge his efforts in the preparation and delivery of this course, which provided the framework of this paper and many resources used throughout. — Cover Art: Gowdat Gabra, The Treasures of Coptic Art, 94 (Coptic Icon depicting the visit of St. Antony (left) to St. Paul of Thebes (Old Cairo, Monastery of St. Mercurius)).

A blessing, indeed, belongs to the land of Egypt, which welcomed the Lord Jesus Christ into its borders as a refugee, in fulfillment of the prophecy of Isaiah: “Behold, the Lord sits on a swift cloud, and shall come to Egypt: and the idols of Egypt shall be moved at his presence, and their heart shall faint within them…In that day shall Israel be third with the Egyptians and the Assyrians, blessed in the land which the Lord of hosts has blessed, saying, ‘Blessed be my people that is in Egypt, and that is among the Assyrians, and Israel mine inheritance’” (Isaiah 19:1, 24-25). Egypt is recorded in the Scriptures as often serving as a place of refuge. During a time of famine, Abraham “went down to Egypt to sojourn there” (Genesis 12:10). Joseph also found refuge in Egypt, where he was eventually given authority over the whole land of Egypt under Pharaoh (See Genesis 41:41-44). His father, Jacob, was directed by God: “Fear not to go down into Egypt, for I will make thee there a great nation. And I will go down with thee into Egypt, and I will bring thee up at the end” (Genesis 46:3-4). Likewise Moses found refuge in the house of Pharaoh in Egypt (See Exodus 2:1-10). From the Gospel according to St. Matthew, we learn of the Lord’s own flight to Egypt and His taking up refuge there: “Now when they had departed, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, ‘Rise, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there till I tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him.’ And he rose and took the child and his mother by night, and departed to Egypt, and remained there until the death of Herod. This was to fulfill what the Lord had spoken by the prophet, ‘Out of Egypt have I called my son’ (Hosea 11:1)…But when Herod died, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt, saying, ‘Rise, take the child and his mother, and go to the land of Israel, for those who sought the child’s life are dead.’ And he rose and took the child and his mother, and went to the land of Israel” (Matthew 2:13-15, 19-23). By His presence in Egypt, our Lord Jesus Christ affirmed His coming for all people — Jews and Gentiles: “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28). This message, which God consistently revealed to the Israelites, most prominently in the experience of Jonah the Prophet but also throughout the Scriptures, was proclaimed by Simeon the Elder when he carried the Lord in his arms (See Luke 2:25-35) and made clear to St. Paul by the Lord when He called him to the ministry while he was on his journey to Damascus: “But rise and stand upon your feet; for I have appeared to you for this purpose, to appoint you to serve and bear witness to the things in which you have seen me and to those in which I will appear to you, delivering you from the people and from the Gentiles — to whom I send you to open their eyes, that they may turn from darkness to light and from the power of Satan to God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins and a place among those who are sanctified by faith in me” (Acts 26:16-18). This gift, of being turned “from darkness to light,” is granted in the mystery of baptism, whereby the baptized is granted the grace of the Holy Spirit and the gift of adopted sonship to God: “For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God” (Romans 8:14). It is according to this truth that all who are baptized and placed into the Body of Christ — that is, the Church — ought to live: no longer downcast and identifying with sin and weakness, but rather living the life of victorious resurrection in Christ by His Spirit.[1] The blessing of our Lord’s visitation to Egypt is observed immediately upon His coming to the land, at which time the idols of the pagans were destroyed and many of the gentile Egyptians believed in Him. On the 18th of Ⲙⲉⲥⲱⲣⲏ, the Coptic Church commemorates St. Wadamon el-Armanti, who was among those who believed in our Lord Jesus Christ while He was in Egypt, and who eventually accepted martyrdom for His sake. The remarkable account of his life, presented in the Synaxarium (the Lives of the Saints), relates: “One day, he hosted in his house some of the idol worshippers and they were saying, ‘We have heard that a lady arrived to the city of Ashmonain carrying a young Child who looked like the children of Kings.’ After the guests had left, Wadamon rose up, rode his donkey and went to the city of Ashmonain. When he arrived, he searched for the Holy Family until he found them. He saw the Child Jesus with His mother Mary and he worshipped Him. When the Child saw him, He smiled and said, ‘Peace be with you, O Wadamon. You have labored and come here to verify what you have heard from your guests about Me. Therefore I will stay in your home, which will be a house for Me forever.’ Wadamon marveled and said, ‘O My Lord, I wish that You will come and live in my house and I will be Your servant forever.’ The Child replied saying: ‘Your home will be a house for Me and My mother forever. When you return home and the heathen hear that you came to Me, they will be indignant and hurt, and they will shed your blood in your house. Do not be afraid, because I will receive you in My heavenly kingdom forever, the place of perpetual joy, which has no end. You will be the first martyr in Upper Egypt.’ Then Wadamon knelt down before the Lord Christ, Who blessed him, and then he departed and returned to his home…”[2] Despite the tribulation that our Lord Jesus Christ and the Holy Family endured, it nevertheless became a joyous commemoration and an occasion for many to come to know the Lord and believe in Him, becoming the first-fruits of Christianity in Egypt. In the visit of the Lord to Egypt, the prophecy of Isaiah is fulfilled: “In that day there shall be an altar to the Lord in the land of the Egyptians, and a pillar to the Lord by its border. And it shall be for a sign to the Lord for ever in the land of Egypt: for they shall presently cry to the Lord by reason of them that afflict them, and he shall send them a man who shall save them; he shall judge and save them. And the Lord shall be known to the Egyptians, and the Egyptians shall know the Lord in that day; and they shall offer sacrifices, and shall vow vows to the Lord, and pay them” (Isaiah 19:19-21). The Coptic Orthodox Church today, having her foundation and roots in Egypt, also dwells outside her homeland — among those who do not believe in God and who do not walk in His way — as Christ did in Egypt. It is therefore the duty of each of her members, who have been baptized into Christ and have put on Christ (See Galatians 3:26), to emulate Him in being “christ” in “Egypt” once again — a living reflection of the Lord and a conduit whereby the life and truth of Christ may be transferred anew to the “land of Egypt” and its inhabitants, so that “they may see [their] good works and glorify [their] Father in heaven” (Matthew 5:16). In doing so, just as Christ established an altar in the land of Egypt (See Isaiah 19:19), those who believe in Him may become participants in the establishment and edification of His altar, upon which are offered appropriate spiritual sacrifices and where God is glorified and witnessed to not only by word, but also in manner of life and deeds, all over the world. While the cause for the Lord’s flight to Egypt was evil, especially as Herod “sent and killed all the male children in Bethlehem and in all that region who were two years old or under” (Matthew 2:16), it nevertheless became an occasion of great blessing and benefit. St. John Chrysostom therefore writes: “Egypt receives and preserves Him, driven from His home, and plotted against, and obtains a sort of first impulse towards her union unto Him; so that when in after-time she should hear Him preached by the apostles, she might have this at least to glory of, as having received Him first…And now, should you come unto the desert of Egypt, you will see this desert become better than any paradise, and ten thousand choirs of angels in human forms, and nations of martyrs, and companies of virgins, and all the devil’s tyranny put down, while Christ’s kingdom shines forth in its brightness.”[3] In similarly evil, difficult, or troubling circumstances, especially today, the example of our Lord Jesus Christ shines forth as a cause of comfort and hope — in times of tribulation, He is our joy, preparing for us those things that are much better if we continue to abide in Him and live by His word, emulating His profound humility, and that of His mother and St. Joseph, in submitting wholeheartedly to the will and plan of God, even as they sought refuge in Egypt, becoming there a shining light and a powerful witness to Christ, the Savior of all people. We therefore chant with great pride: “Rejoice and be glad, O Egypt, with her sons and border cities, for the Lover of Man who existed before all ages has come;”[4] “Let us worship and ask Him to grant us a share on Judgment Day with the children whom Herod killed,”[5] lifting up our hearts in pure prayer to God, as did St. Wadamon the martyr, seeking the Lord and asking Him to abide in us as He resided in the land of Egypt, to work in us for the glory of His Name — that is, the salvation of the world through our living witness to Him in it — and to grant us the blessings of this Feast. To God is due all glory. — [1] See Antony the Great, On the Character of Men and on the Virtuous Life in G.E.H. Palmer, The Philokalia: The Complete Text vol. I, 328-355. [2] Synaxarium: The 18th Day of Ⲙⲉⲥⲱⲣⲏ. [3] John Chrysostom, Homilies on the Gospel According to St. Matthew 8.5-6. [4] Doxology for the Feast of the Lord's Entry into Egypt, 4 [5] Verses of Cymbals for the Feast of the Lord's Entry into Egypt, 2 — Cover Art: Gawdat Gabra and Marianne Eaton-Krauss, The Treasures of Coptic Art in the Coptic Museum and Churches of Old Cairo, xii