Not quite the Holy Land, but close.

Bridget Bryan

Why Egypt and Jordan?

Egypt and Jordan, while not part of the Promised Land, can be considered part of the “holy land” in a way. What is a holy land? What makes a place holy? It is the presence of God that makes a thing holy. An object also becomes holy when it is touched by God or set aside for his use. Egypt and Jordan were each set aside for God’s use. I’d like to share with you some highlights of that pagan soil and how it bore the fruit of God. In viewing how God used the “soil of the past,” we’ll come to more deeply appreciate the providence of God in our own lives.

My decision to travel to this “holy land” came from wanting to give more to my students, a thirst for adventure, and a love of travel and history. After teaching ancient history for eight years, I began to love Moses, and also how God worked with Egypt and other pagan empires through the translatio imperii (the transfer of power from one civilization or empire to another to prepare for the salvation of mankind). Because of those things, I yearned to go explore among those old stone buildings of Moses’ past, ride camels, and sail down the Nile. In 2019, my brother and I did just that, as well as explored a bit of Jordan.

Egypt

On our way over to the “Dark Continent,” my brother and I took advantage of a layover in Paris, France to go gallivanting, and by late afternoon, we left the land of the first daughter of the Church and her great Gothic cathedrals. By nightfall, we could see the lights of Cairo and the great darkness of the Sahara surrounding it.

The next morning, the first on the African continent, I did my usual morning ritual of reading and prayer, and read the mass of the day. It was the feast of St. Anne. Uncanny: that’s what it felt like, looking out over the same Nile river that St. Anne’s daughter and grandson had seen when they fled with Joseph to Egypt. From then on, my physical vision of the place took on a vision of historical layers. Far out, the pyramids were obscured by the city haze. Here I was, spiritually in the presence of God, in the very land that he had been physically in over 2,000 years ago as a little toddler, having narrowly escaped the clutches of King Herod’s henchmen!

Of Alexandria and Dirt

The first day was a long trip into Alexandria, founded in 331 BC by Alexander the Great.

A word must be said about the dirt. The first thing we noticed getting off the plane up to now, and until our last hours in Egypt, was how dirty it is. A particularly poor neighborhood of Alexandria which surrounded some ruins was crowded, busy, dusty and so dirty that there was trash everywhere. Everyone was in their long Arabic robes, the women were almost always cloaked in niqabs (full hijab). The intense heat enhanced the effect of stifling closeness and dirtiness. It was exciting to see, but such a contrast to sterile American cities. I expressed my initial disgust of the filthy crowded conditions to my brother. He acknowledged it, but then said “Every country has its filth. Our country’s is more hidden. Which sort of filth would you prefer?” I grunted, impressed by his wisdom, and relaxed a little more as we wound our way through teeny tiny streets crowded with honking tuk-tuks, donkey carts, flee-bitten camels, cars, old trucks, shop wares, and hookah bars filled with old, robed men of leathery skin and missing teeth, playing chess between puffs. Tall, dilapidated apartment buildings rose up on every side. In spite of the dry heat, with my attitude somewhat adjusted, and in spite of all that initial grime, you could see that the community and the families were strong. Passers-by took the time to visit with and poke fun at their neighbors, smiles and laughs were more frequently seen than grim, busy faces, and all through this bustling chaos, children played.

We explored a great deal, and finally ended the day in front of the Great Library, originally founded by Alexander. Here he had Jewish scholars come and translate the Septuagint into Greek, thus enabling the word of the Lord to be revealed more easily to the Gentiles of the ancient world. Somewhere, underneath the city, in a yet-to-be-excavated-place, Alexander’s body lies. Up to now, its location is a mystery.

All that day was spent with our Arab guide, Hisham. Through him we were exposed to the hearts of the Arabs: they are upfront and talk about what is most dear to a person: religion, family, and politics. This was to be affirmed with every Arab I talked to. Our stimulating conversations made time travel quickly as we drove through crowded city streets and miles and miles of desert and occasional irrigated farms.

Pyramids

Back in Cairo, now cooler in the evening, we saw a peaceful sunset with the Pyramids at Giza and the Sphinx. It was very overwhelming in a quiet, deep way. The energy and awe is similar to what one experiences when one stands near a great Gothic cathedral. These great massive monuments, though nearly 6,000 years old, still stand with great silent majesty.

The next day was a hands-on visit to the pyramids in the sweltering mid-morning heat. I climbed as high as I could on Khufu’s pyramid before being yelled at by the police to come down lower. A trifle embarrassed and yet somewhat triumphant to have achieved such a chiding, I sat down on one of the giant limestone blocks and soaked up the reality of sitting on one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. The great pharaohs had been here, Alexander the Great, Herodotus, Marc Antony, Napoleon Bonaparte. . .and then the people of Christ. I thought of Joseph, son of Jacob—what did the pyramids look like when he came to Egypt? What about his brothers and his father when they came to beg for food during the famine? And Moses, did he whisk his chariot round the dunes at the edges of this sacred burial place? Joseph and Mary, and their baby, the King of Kings—did they see these great buildings of men? If so, the infant God saw them and now I was seeing what was seen by him in his exile. This moment was a portal into a vivid contemplation of the Holy Family in Egypt.

Musing on the pyramid, (and yes, posing for photos galore), led to camel rides. We rode our dromedaries, all decked out in Arab tassels, out to a lovely view of the nine pyramids, right on the fringe of the Sahara. Again, images of all those people in the Bible, and of all those famous people of history too, appeared in my mind as I rocked to and fro on the back of the gangly but oddly attractive animal. Need vivid sound for your contemplation? Camels gargle and groan like Chewbacca from Star Wars, and sometimes, they spit. Apparently the females find that attractive.

We left our camels, and the flies attracted to them, to visit the great Sphinx who guards the three main pyramids at Giza. The Sphinx was almost as arresting as the pyramids. Huge, and silent, his posture and resting gaze has a commanding presence. The longer I sat and sketched him (I sketched and painted in a travel journal every step of the way), the more he seemed to come alive and “be” there, watching. Between his massive paws you can see the Thutmose III’s tablet Roger Lancelyn Green tells of in his Tales of Ancient Egypt. Seeing such a thing would be akin to discovering that Red Riding Hood’s cape was real.

Then came lunch, which that day was down the road in a Bedouin tent supported by palm trees (date trees are the main palm tree in Egypt) and pillars made of reeds.

Reeds and Patriarchs

When I saw those reed pillars, Noe, Abraham, and the marshland of Mesopotamia all flashed through my head in an instant. It was like an information overload. Why the association? The Bedouins have always been nomadic tent-dwellers, and have traveled across the Middle East. Any habit of theirs have been long in their traditions—thousands of years. The reed supports were built in a way that closely resembled the mudhifs—reed houses. These mudhifs rose out of the marshlands of the Tigris and the Euphrates River (my next dream destination), possibly the geographical setting for the garden of Eden, our ancient family hearth or living room.

These structures, an odd cross between a Gothic chapel and an Indian longhouse, have been around as far back 3000 BC, possibly longer. You can find engravings of them carved on knife handles from that era, near Uruk, the kingdom of Gilgamesh the King. That’s near Ur, where Abraham was from. Thus, Abraham would have been familiar with this type of housing. Some experts have wondered if Noe’s family, after the flood, had a similar style of housing. Seeing the reed pillars was like seeing a relic of the old patriarchs who were types of the Savior.

A glimpse from my travel journal shows us at the Giza Pyramid complex.

All these connections, from the reed pillars to Abraham and Noe flashed into my head as I passed into the Bedouin tent. Nerding out on the topic was saved for the travel journal, and total attention was given to a good cold beer and lunch with my fellow travelers.

The rest of that day was spent viewing temples and pyramids, inside and out: the Red, Bent, and Djoser’s Step Pyramid (the very first successful Egyptian pyramid), and an old crumbled pyramid. The only thing that would have made all that even better would have been to be able to bring my students there too.

What does the inside of a pyramid look like? Well, the really old ones are ornate, while the “newer” ones at Giza are plain inside. We descended into a pyramid older than Moses. Inside it, carved on the ceiling were stars—they looked like starfish—but this expression is so similar to the stars the French use in ecclesiastical decorations. Also carved into the vertical walls, with the precision of a laser cutter, were litanies in hieroglyphs, praying for the soul of the deceased pharaoh and his people. “Litany” took on a whole new meaning for me after seeing that—the form had been around for nearly 4000 years, and carved so precisely in such an ancient age!

At one moment, while exploring Djoser’s complex, I stood alone in a deserted stone funeral hallway, its limestone ceiling, walls, and floor polished and glossed by the Sahara wind. The view looked out at golden sand and blue sky. It dawned on me that all these buildings were prepared not for men to live in and enjoy, but for their preparation for death. The wonder began to form: is most of what the Egyptians have given us the fruit of their preparation for death?

One of my favorite pages, this captures typical life on the streets of Egypt, whether village or crazy Cairo.

Here’s the ancient Mesopotamian reed technique I saw in the Bedouin tent restaurant.

“All are welcome to worship here” is one of the hieroglyphs found carved on each of the pillars of Philae.

Signs of Eternal Life

From the Pyramids at Giza, we traveled overnight by train down to Aswan, near the Egyptian border along Ethiopia—Nubia, to those acquainted with antiquity. Here, the Nubians, gentler and more dark than the Egyptians, usually dress in white robes which they keep immaculate in spite of all their activity.

In Philae, a curious hieroglyph is carved onto all the massive stone pillars. It means “All are welcome to worship here.”

Nestled amongst the pillars is an early Coptic Christian altar, with a tabernacle of sorts carved into the stone wall behind it. That stone altar was taken from the darkness of the pagan sanctuary to the god Isis, and placed in the light, to be used for the unbloody sacrifice of God for man. That altar, a relief to see in the Muslim land, once used for pagan worship, seemed fulfilled, a mini-Calvary, and the hieroglyph echoed on all the surrounding massive pillars seemed to call all the souls of the land: “All are welcome here for ‘I am the way, the truth and the life.’”

The wee hours of the next morning saw us driving through the Sahara, watching the sunrise over the rosy endless dunes and the dark tarmac road disappear where sand met sky. The mind’s images from Anton St. Exupery’s flight stories over the desert in The Little Prince and Wind, Sand and Stars enliven the scene. Little teeny flies appear out of nowhere and afflicted each person. Plagues of Egypt anyone?

We arrived and hiked to the massive work of Abu Simbel. It’s the gigantic double temple of Ramses II and his favorite wife, Nefertari, carved into the cliffs. The mammoth-sized statues that guard the front of the temples were meant to send a strong message to anyone coming into Egypt from the south. Ramses II may have been the adopted brother of Moses. It was interesting to view all the works from this point of view. It dawned on me here that Ramses II built much and built big. Did he have a Napoleon complex? Was he short and that’s why he had to go big? Or did he feel really inadequate with a someone like Moses alongside him? Were these massive statues more of a show of power rather than actual power? Ramses II’s actual military accomplishments certainly do support the last question.

Inside the temple, imagine a church, nearly 30 feet high, complete with pillars and ceremonial rooms, and large halls, all leading back to a more private sanctuary, and that all hollowed out of rock. That’s Abu Simbel. Within Abu Simbel are carved scenes of Ramses’ reign.

The most violent scenes, scenes of war, are on the outer perimeter of the temple, and as you get closer to the sanctuary, the scenes become more peaceful.

The golden moment here was seeing a temple guardian with a giant gold ankh. An ankh looks like a key with a cross at the end, and you find the pharaohs holding it, and some of the gods in pictures and carvings. It’s everywhere in ancient Egyptian culture. The symbol of the ankh is eternal life. When a robed Arab guard put the ankh into the temple door [and tried unabashedly to get people to pose with him and then haggle a tip from them] the lines “the keys of the kingdom” (Matthew 16:19), and “I am the way the truth and the life” (John 14:6), came into mind simultaneously with the thought that the God-Man Christ brought us eternal life through the cross. It was like watching an Arab unknowingly act out an Egyptian version of St. Peter at the pearly gates, using ancient symbolism. Here was another of God’s scavenger hunt clues to Eternal Happiness as He weaved them throughout history.

Faith and Feluccas

The most awaited moment of the trip was sailing down the Nile on a felucca, an Egyptian sailboat. We drifted luxuriously for two days on the quiet Nile, living as carefree boatmen taking advantage of a river to swim in, a deck to dose on, and appreciating the famous hospitality of our Nubian crew. Unanticipated, in contrast to the idyllic daze, were hours of discussing the Catholic Faith.

The first night began with questions asked by our guide, Ramadan. Under the intense starry sky, drinking tea, the guide and I began the first of several intense discussions of his Islamic beliefs versus the Catholic Faith. I’ll never forget his look of surprise when, after sharing what he was taught about our priests and how mercenary they were, I assured him with utter conviction that each of the priests I knew would willingly die for us if it meant getting us to heaven. Integrity means a lot to them, and this assertion seemed to leave a great impression upon him. I thanked God for the formation of St. Mary’s College, especially in philosophy and theology, as well as the Holy Spirit for giving me the confidence to bear witness to my faith.

Regarding the Nile: it is pretty clear water, and has a good current. The cool water felt so good in the high heat of the Egyptian August. Again, layers of history processed through my mind of who had been in the Nile in their royal ships—Tuthmosis III, Hatshepsut, Joseph of Israel, Ramses II, Moses taken from the reeds in his pitch-tarred basket, and possibly Joseph and Mary using it as a water source. We had no problems with Nile crocodiles—apparently they’re all north of Cairo.

After our sailing adventure, we embarked to the site of Thebes, modern day Luxor, known as the city of gold. So many temples lay near there, including Karnak—the largest temple by far—nearly as large as St. Mary’s, Kansas. We visited the valley of the kings and Hatshepsut’s temple. All these temples and ruins, thousands and thousands of years old, bore witness to men’s ego and power, but also bore witness to a world beyond this earthly life.

Moses’ Step-Brother?

Once back in Cairo, we saw the Cairo museum briefly. For the record, Egypt is best viewed in context of the land rather than in a museum, but boy, there are some treasures there. All of Egypt’s ancient history is captured within this huge building. Some things that really stood out are mummified pets, the contents of King Tut’s tomb, solid statues several stories tall, a Moses-like reed basket covered in resin from ancient days, remnants of Akhenaton’s attempt at monotheism, as well as one of the best-looking pharaohs available.

The body of Ramses II, once wrapped in layers of linen and amulets, is partially exposed in a climate-controlled room, with an entourage of other stiff celebrities. His features command even in death. His eagle nose stands out of a chiseled face, revealing a hint of a strong personality. His hair, still visible, has a bleached, yellowish complexion. The preserved corpse, now shriveled, still exuded a sense of gravity and comportment. This silent corpse, whose life I was so well acquainted with, whose colossal temples and building projects I had just explored from southern Egypt, all the way north to the Mediterranean. Now I was looking down at him, in the flesh (though somewhat shriveled). It was possibly this man with whom Moses grew up as his half-brother, ran through the great palace halls, raced Moses in chariots, exiled him, then invited the nine plagues of Egypt, and finally had his men pursue the Israelites to the edge of the sea. And here he was for all of us ordinary people to see.

A Coptic Church, Synagogue, and an Ancient Mass

Later that day we planned to make a final pilgrimage in Egypt before we flew to Jordan. Nestled in old Coptic Cairo, near a famous mosque, is a Catholic Church and a synagogue. The synagogue was built on the site where, according to tradition, Moses was taken from the reeds (there’s that ancient basket made from reeds in the Cairo Museum—it makes one wonder, “Moses, is this what your basket looked like?”). The Church close-by is built over a cave where Joseph and Mary are said to have rested. (There are many caves with the same claim along the way down to middle Egypt where legend says they settled for some time. But it’s not highly visited because this part of Egypt is often the scene of conflicts between Muslims and Christians.) Alas, the hopes for these two great destinations were dashed for some unfortunate reasons, and as I nursed my disappointments through the streets of Cairo, and haggled at the Souq for papyrus souvenirs for my students, I prayed that I’d be able to come back to these holy spots of antiquity.

The Exodus in Three Hours

The next day, what took the Chosen People forty years to do, we did in three hours. We crossed the Red Sea, went straight over Sinai, up past the Dead Sea, along the River Jordan, and landed in Amman, where at night we could see the lights of Jerusalem.

Though this Exodus only lasted three hours, a bit squished into a plane of mostly Arabs, I sponged up every moment I could from my window seat. I looked over bright blue Red Sea, as lego-sized cargo ships floated into it through the Suez Canal. In my mind’s eye, I saw the parting of it at the hands of Moses, “Horse and rider thrown into the sea,” (Exodus 15:21).

The rigorous terrain of the Sinai Mountains came into view and my heart yearned to go there, to hike up through those mountains. (That was one of my original destination dreams, but most tour groups weren’t offering any trips due to some security concerns.) I put it on my consolation “Come Back and Visit” list. Still, I tried to look out for what might be Mount Sinai, where the finger of God wrote out the 10 Commandments, also where the burning bush was, and now has the Church of the Annunciation built over it. Even today, you can hike to and visit the Monastery of St. Catherine which surrounds the area and visit the ancient Church built over the gnarled roots of the still-alive burning bush.

Red jagged stone against blue sea and blue sky is what rolled out underneath us, and it was not difficult to contemplate the Hebrews, with all of the their belongings and children, for years, making their way through that rocky area.

Walking out of the Siq into candlelight took our breath away as the famous Treasury (a tomb) stood silent under the stars.

Jordan

Then we got to Jordan. It was like going from Italy to Portugal: Cairo is not a clean city, and Jordan felt immaculate, and more safe. While Cairo was old, Jordan has roots that historians trace as far back as 10,000-6,000 B.C. So ancient! If you are familiar with scripture, you may have read of Rabboth-Ammon, or Philadelphia—those are names for what is now simply Amman, Jordan.

This is one of the oldest cities in the world, descended from Lot and his daughter, and is first mentioned in Holy Scripture in Genesis 19:37-38: “The younger also bore a son, and she called his name Ammon, that is, the son of my people: he is the father of the Ammonites unto this day.” If you’d like to see how civilizations built upon each other, this city is very ideal. It was built along the King’s Highway, an ancient trade road that connected Africa with Mesopotamia. Moses took the chosen people along part of the road when coming into the Promised Land, and it is frequently mentioned in holy scripture. It’s a great place to walk in the footsteps of the chosen people and Moses, as well as the early Church.

Moses’ Water Stop, and The King’s Highway

The other holy spot of this land is Wadi Musa. Wadi means valley, Musa, Moses. The town Wadi Musa is named for the spring that comes from under a rock, believed to be that from the story of Moses striking the rock to give drink to his people, “And when Moses had lifted up his hand, and struck the rock twice with the rod, there came forth water in great abundance, so that the people and their cattle drank,” (Numbers 20:11). The spring was the original water source for Petra.

To access this incredible city carved out of rock, you have to go through a winding canyon of red sandstone. We initially did this in the dark, with the stars shining overheard, our path lit only by starlight and candlelight. The next day we rode Arabian horses, the Bedouin’s most loyal friend, down to the entrance, and hiked all over the red dusty ruins.

Petra goes all the way back before Moses; it’s a city carved out of rock, begun by the ancient Nabataeans of Arabia, taken over by the spread of Hellenization, then by the Romans, which became Christian. The Mohammedans then drove them out, then the Crusaders tried to take it back, and finally, with the failure of the Crusades it stayed in the hands of the Muslims. The city, famous for its tomb reliefs, was a central point on the King’s Highway, and would have seen many people of antiquity passing through.

Minarets and Mozarabic Chants

When you come to an Islamic country, minarets are as common as churches in Rome. Minarets are towers which rise above the domed mosques so that imams (spiritual leaders of the Muslims) can call the people to prayer five times a day. Back in America, while planning the trip, I cringed to think of this reality. In Egypt and Jordan I didn’t as much. In seeing all those minarets, I thought of two things:

In seeing the skylines dotted with minarets, I was first reminded of Chesterton’s quote: “The only way to love anything is to realize it may be lost.” In vain did I search for a crucifix atop a dome. When I did, in the bigger cities, it was like seeing a homeland. The minarets marked mosques nearly on every corner: this was a reminder how earthly Christendom may have looked at its height, and what it may still become.

The second thing I thought of was the chant that came from those minarets. The chant conjured up both ordinary Gregorian chant in its pure melody, and the audio of priests singing Jeremiah’s Lamentations at Tenebrae in the majestic Mozarabic Chant. Both our chant and those of the Arabs have similar ancient strains. Just like wine and scotch have layers of taste from their sources, so do our own chants sung everyday at the Office and High Mass.

Moses’ Last Stop

South of Amman, away from the hustling and bustling stands Mount Nebo. This is the resting place of Moses, where he watched as his people, whom he had led with difficulty for forty years, passed into their new land. “Go up into this mountain . . . unto mount Nebo, which is in the land of Moab over against Jericho: and see the land of Chanaan, which I will deliver to the children of Israel to possess, and die thou in the mountain” (Deuteronomy 32:49).

Upon this limestone mount, to the left you can see the northern edges of the Dead Sea, and the lush beginning of Israel, the Promised Land. To the right is the dry land of Moab. Upon this mountain a monastery was built. It was destroyed, but a church, sadly cold and sterile, stands in its stead. You can kneel in prayer as Moses must have before he was taken to the Lord, his body hidden from view by St. Michael, “When Michael the archangel, disputing with the devil, contended about the body of Moses” (Jude 1:9). The best moment was to stand in the silence, looking across the same view he must have looked at and pondered and contemplated the remainder of his life. After a lifetime theme of being set apart from his people: sent adrift upon the Nile to be raised in a foreign household, fleeing into exile, then leading his own people in the Exodus (for leadership can be lonely), he was again separated from his people as they entered the Promised Land. From there, he was finally able to enter into Abraham’s bosom. Moses is known as the holiest person of the Old Testament, so much so that the Jews compared Christ to him. Having reached the top of Mt. Nebo, it seemed that the trip to Egypt and Jordan had all been worthwhile.

Reoriented

By the end of this journey I had realized that our Faith and our Culture of Western Civilization had more roots than I could possibly fathom. It was as if each of us humans were a speck in the universe of time, like earth is a speck in the universe of stars and galaxies. And yet in that smallness was felt God’s greatness and His love for one small person in 2019 A.D. I was able to glimpse many of these historical layers laid thousands and thousands of years ago. It was truly a humbling realization, as well as a tantalizing carrot calling for further exploration of the land of Pharaohs and Bedouins.