I decided to go to St. Matthew’s Anglican Church. One of the joys of being Anglican is going to churches in other countries. Attending the Anglican Church in Hong Kong and Istanbul remain fondly memorable as this experience shall remain.
The taxi driver insisted he knew the way to St. Matthew’s Anglican Church. It’s on Queen Elizabeth II street, a main thorough fare near the Prime Minister’s Palace. I actually remembered to ascertain the fare before travelling. 300 Brr when a local might pay $150. The 15 minute drive turned into an hour tour of the city.
First my taxi driver stopped by another taxi driver who spoke a little English and confirmed I wanted to go to the Anglican Church. “English Catholic?” He said . “Yes,” I replied. Technically true. Anglican is called “Catholic Light” because it lacks the political burden of the Pope.
The driver took me to Holy ? Catholic Church, the Roman Catholic Church.
“This isn’t the Anglican Church.”
“It’s catholic.” He said affronted.
“Yes, Roman Catholic. not English Catholic.” I said with the frustration of language barriers.
He seemed to think they were all the same and I sensed that he wanted me to go to the Catholic Church so he could have his task completed and he could move on to his next passenger. Fortunately there was an old Catholic Ethiopian who came over and spoke to him laughing saying that this was “Roman Catholic “Italian Catholic” He said. I heard the word “English church’ in the muddle of foreign.
“My driver is lost.” I said smiling. The old man laughed and proceeded to give him new instructions.
“My driver is lost.” I said smiling. The old man laughed and proceeded to give him new instructions.
Now another drive around the city till we arrived at the International Protestant Church.
“This isn’t St. Mathew’s Anglican Church.’ I said again..
“It’s a Christian church.”
“But it’s not an Anglican Church.’ I’d already found out that my driver was an ex military Coptic Orthodox. I was feeling my tone change as the time passed and I knew I’d be late for church frustrated. Another delightful older man came over to the taxi and told me this was an Evangelical Church, then gave directions to the driver who then hit his head saying. “I live by there. Never knew the name.” I was resisting anger, believing this was all God’s plan.
The Catholics had sent me to the Evangelicals who knew the Way and sent me to St. Mathew’s. I thought Willie, My Pentecostal friend, would like this big evangelical campus with lots of families and children around. They knew the Way.
I was thankful to arrive only a few minutes late to St. Mathew’s. That would make all the difference as I’d never find the right service and be even more confused than I often am. It’s comforting though to be in a home away from home picking up the Bible and the day’s service. The only difficulty I had is that the fixed service bulletin had communion services for four diocese in Africa. I think I was following the Sudanese service while the congregation was doing very well on the Egyptian. The next problem was my increasing deafness. This big space with children playing and wind in the windows coupled with the accent of the ministers and readers made it difficult for me to understand a thing being said. It was momentous too for a Bishop who I understood to be from Mozambique now was visiting and sat on the Elder’s council who advised the government of spiritual matters. I felt his spirit later when he shook my hand and looked into my heart. Spiritual telepathy. I’d met the Dalai Lama and Bishop Tutu in a similiar way, liking what they said but only feeling what they said when I touched them like the woman who touched the robe and Jesus turned. I felt the spark. This Bishop was holy.
I can often miss a 10th or even 25% of a service getting lost in distraction and thought. I often feel the moment when I click into the present. Today I got at best a verse or two of one hymn. I did the “Peace” superbly though, , a bit exuberantly for those about me. They’d obviously participated in the rest of the service and didn’t know this was so far my only moment to shine. I vigorously shook hands with everyone. I did contribute too at the offering, feeling I’d get that right, knowing the church appreciates gifts as much as the next person.
The sermon was superb. I believe the priests name was Rev. Charles Sherlock. Definitely English with some deep spirituality. Worth getting out of bed if only to join him chanting Isaiah. There’s always at least one thing that can be found in a church service. For me today there was so much more but this was the moment when I awoke to the moment. He began by saying that when you come into church for the service it is good to expect that today you would be meeting God. He was definitely like one of the priests in the lawyer writer Susan Howatch’s Starbridge series. Perhaps the old man who hid the stigmata out of humility.
Isaiah 6.
In the year that King Uzziah died. I saw the Lord seated on a throne , high and exalted, and the train of his robes filled the temple. Above him were seraphs, each with 6 wings With two wings they covered their faces, with two they covered their feet and with two they were flying . And they were calling to one another “Holy, Holy, holy is the Lord Almighty, the whole earth is full of his glory’.
Isaiah goes on “Woe to me” I cried. “I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the Lord Almighty”
One of the seraphs flew to me with a live coal in his hands , which had taken with tongs from the altar. With it he touched my mouth and said “See, this has touched your lips, your guilt is taken away and your sin atoned for.”
Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying. “Whom shall I send? And who wilt go for us.”
And I said, “Here I am. Send me.” Be ever hearing, but never understanding: be ever seeing but never perceiving.’
Make the heart of this people calloused, make their ears dull and close their eyes. Otherwise they might see with their eyes, hear with their ears, understand with their hearts, and turn and be healed.”
The priest said the time of Uzziah was hundreds of years before Jesus and God was still speaking forgiveness.
After I enjoyed having coffee outside with the congregation. In AA of the Oxford Groups , they say that the best meeting is often the meeting after the meeting. That’s true for church with the coffee meeting after being a traditional delight. .
Here I met a jazz musician whose name escapes me. I actually asked him twice, it was so important to me. He said it was a Biblical name. I believe it was Elijah I had told him where I was going.
He told me that there was civil strife in Gondar where I’d planned to travel in a couple of days after visiting the monasteries at Lake Tana tomorrow. The normal thing to do is catch a 3 hour ride in a mini bus up to Gondar. Now they’re blockading roads much like the natives in Canada. The fear here is that they might take hostages for financial or political reasons. The delightful priest, very knowledgeable of local affairs and the actual leaders of the factions, joined us. An interesting discussion followed. Elijah had heard the news of the forces being called up this last week. He seemed most aware of the most recent developments but the priest has greater faith in the individual men who were involved in this struggle and that they’d find a solution without more blood shed. The conclusion though confirmed later by a local theologian with ties to the area for me at least was that travel between towns by road might be risky but plane flight into these towns was not yet a concern. I felt I might still go to Gondar but that the road tripe from Lake Tana there was no longer on schedule. I shared that the night before I ‘d thought I probagly shouldn’t go to Gondar for no reason I could conclude. I’d thought I’d seen palaces and had no need of seeing more rocks but would later be reminded of the ancient and holy church that was there.
The wonderful gentleman then joined me for the afternoon saying it was his day off and when I said I had thought to go to St. George, accompany to St. George where I’d wanted to go.
Emperor Meneleck II had declared a holy war against the Italian invasion in the late 1800’s with their miraculous defeat being attributed to St. George. Unfortunately the church was closed. A traditional wedding had begun outside and presumably continued on inside. Asking him what he recommended for lunch he suggested we go to the Piazza nearby.
“This was where the first Cinema was created along with the first Hotel built in Addis.” I thought it apropos that a Jazz Musician would be introducing me to the more contemporary cinematic history of the city. The piazza was associated with the Italian occupation in WWII.
We walked out to the first hotel which was know today for it’s fine cuisine and the preserved interior. The wood floor was rough parkay. There were photo and art on the wall of earlier days. We sat outside under grape vines and had wonderful Ethiopian coffee, shared our mutual tales of broken hearted youth.
I told him I’d had the privilege of hearing Margolis playing with his composition “Jungle” wthe the New York Philharmonic Symphony at the Lincoln Centre. He me about a Canadian jazz musician who had left Toronto, I believe, and was a great African sensation now. We discused music and culture.
He told me he had a professor friend, he’d love me to meet and called him on his cellular. He invited a friend, Professor Joachim to join us. He arrived a little while later.
Professor Yoachim was an amazing man. He’d done his PHD on the Coptic monastics after studying Hebrew linguistics in Israel. He shared he travelled a lot with his father whose business interests were around the world but that they’d decided he needed an English education finally. He speaks at least 3 languages and reads several more. He told me he’d just presented at an All African Conference where he loved meeting colleagues from around the world with similar interests. A truly brilliant unique gentleman whose students are so fortunate to be in the midst of genius.
Elijah told me that his home was totally done in traditional Ethiopian. He’d begun coming here more than 20 years before he moved here permanently a dozen years before. He showed me a discrete little Coptic cross he’d had tattooed on his wrist. I naturally showed him the Chomorran navigator tattoo of three dolphins I’d had He wore a homespun vest and had two Coptic crosses, one with the Star of David, on beads about his neck. I’d asked him about those and he’d showed me the more traditional one on the inside of his wrist. It was a thorough delight to experience him. Experience him is a good description of the meeting. He’d told me in answer to my questions about him and Coptic spirituality he’d himself considered becoming a monk.
He’d had a lunch to go to so Elijah helped me order a local lamb dish called ‘Tibs’ . It can also be beef. Cubes of meat in spicy sauce served with Injerah bread and eaten with fingers. When I was about to pitch in without washing my hands Elijah offered me a fork and knife while Yoachim said he was going to wash his hands and I took the hint. A lovely meal coupled with learned conversation of spiritual depth, historical relevance and leading research. He’d shared a little of Elijah’s spicy food at his insistence which reminded him he had his own lunch to go to. We bid Yoachim well when he departed I having been invited graciously to visit if I was back in Addis. We’d discussed my vague plans and uncertain itinerary.
I was really appreciative of Elijah’s extraordinary help as he asked a friend in hospitality for me about booking air flights on a Sunday. His friend told him that Ethiopian Air had of the only ticket office open Sunday in the American sector. We Taxi’s there. Security was high with lots of AK 103 and several short machine guns blocking traffic by the front enterace because an important African dignitary was visitting. “Imagine that this is happening here today what level of security must be happening in Gondar.” Elijah said.
The whole Gondar question became mute because while I was able to get a flight to Lake Tana there was no connection by air to Gondar from there. I booked a flight to Lallebela and Auxm and return to Addis for next Monday. I could fly the next day to Gondar if the disruption had settled .by then. The ticket agent was so petite and incredibly beautiful as so many EThiopian women are. She spoke so softly and I felt old repeating myself.
I told Elijah that old men going deaf lose the treble before the bass. “God in his wisdom has made it such that in our old age we can’t hear women but still can hear men. It’s both a blessing and a curse.” Elijah laughed and was so helpful bringing the gap of hearing, meaning, language and culture. I thought these two young people in their loving and caring way had helped me feeling old to avoid despair.
Back here I had Pan Friend Nile Fish and fries for dinner. Now I’m ready to fall into bed and sleep, my feet and legs hurting from all the walking. It was a beautiful day in Addis.
The administrative buildings of Addis
First Cinema in Ethiopia, in the Piazza
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