Anba Ermia at the Rimini Meeting (Photo: Archivio Meeting)

Egypt: Ties that transform

“Without forgiveness hatred and enmity grow. St. Paul, however, teaches us that one can change evil into good.” Anba Ermia, Bishop of the Coptic Orthodox Church in Cairo, talks about himself and the road to coexistence.
Luca Fiore

Monsignor Anba Ermia is a bishop of the Coptic Orthodox Church. He heads the Coptic Orthodox Cultural Center in Cairo, which sponsored the exhibition “The Flight into Egypt. My son lived there” this year at the Rimini Meeting, designed and curated by Wael Farouq. Ermia walked around the Meeting wearing his mitre, typical of the tradition of the Church born on the banks of the Nile through the preaching of St. Mark. This was not his first time at the Meeting. He had already been in 2011 and spoke about the rich and very ancient tradition that links his people to the presence of the Holy Family in Egypt during the very early years of Jesus' life. Shrines, monasteries, and churches that recall the stages of Mary and Joseph's pilgrimage to take the child to safety. It is a tradition about which little or nothing is known in the West and which this year's exhibition described in detail. It is a cult that unites not only Egyptian Orthodox and Catholics, but also sees the affinity of many Muslims. It is the expression of a popular, simple faith that is difficult to manipulate by those in the country who would like to use religious differences for their own political purposes. Monsignor Ermia speaks slowly and in a low voice. His tone is warm. He communicates wisdom. In speaking with him, we wanted to start from the beginning.

Who is Anba Ermia and how did you become a bishop?
I was born in Cairo. I studied pharmacy. In 1984, I entered the monastery of St. Mina in Mariout. My vocation began when I was 11 or 12 years old. During the long summers when I had nothing to do, the only thing I could do was read. I came across an account of the life of St. Anthony Abbot, the father of Eastern monasticism, by Pope Attanasius. My interest in stories of monks began there.

What struck you?
I was attracted by their pure life, by the fact that they were interested in everyone and cared for everyone. They prayed for others and not for themselves. When I finished college, I toured many monasteries and chose the one in Mariout. My family was against my choice, but for those who desire the monastic life, the rest of the world takes on relative importance. In 1990 I began the period of seclusion that marks the monastic path. I could only go out on Saturdays and Sundays to go to Mass. Then, five years later, Pope Shenuda III called me to work in his secretariat. It was a radical change: from absolute isolation to the Pope's office. During that time I helped to found the Coptic Orthodox Cultural Center in Cairo, the St. Mark's Coptic Public Library, and the ME Sat television channel. It was a privileged vantage point on the life of the Egyptian people.

Why?
I could see the challenges in action. And I realized that there would be no solution to the divisions except if not through the development of culture and ties between Muslims and Christians. I have this awareness thanks to my monastic experience, because the monk prays for everyone, regardless of their affiliation.

What strikes you most about Egyptian Christians today?
Tolerance. If a Christian is not tolerant, they are not a Christian. This characteristic, which is a characteristic of all Christians, comes from the passion that Christ teaches us. In the Sermon on the Mount we read, “Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven.” Christians must follow Christ's example, and this is what strikes me about the Christians in Egypt as well: that they forgive those who do them harm. And that they love anyone in order to receive a reward.

What reward does one receive when they forgive?
If I do not forgive, hatred will grow in my heart. This turns me into a person who seeks revenge. This is where enmity and conflict arise. And anger poisons me. Whereas the person who forgives lets God take charge of situations and there is no room for hatred in them. That is the reward. Let us think of the transformation of Saul of Tarsus, the first a persecutor of the Church and then an Apostle to the Gentiles. His story teaches us that God can transform evil into good. Christianity has spread thanks to stories like that, conquering a place in people’s hearts.

What about relations with Muslims?
The attack on the Two Saints Church in the early hours of 2011, on New Year's Eve, hurt everyone. After that incident, the Grand Imam of Al-Azhar, Ahmed al Tayyeb, proposed to Pope Shenuda III to establish “The Egyptian Family House,” with the aim of changing hatred into love, respect and tolerance. I participated in this initiative from the very beginning. At first it was not easy at all. We had reached a level of mutual ignorance and misunderstanding that prevented any relationship.

What did you start from?
From those responsible for religious education: priests and shaykhs. Let me give you an episode that might help you understand. The first meeting we organized was at the Coptic Cultural Center in Cairo, with a visit to the St. Mark's Library. At the end of the morning, we went to lunch and we saw that all the shaykhs were sitting on one side and all the priests were sitting on the other side. When we saw them like that, we asked them to stand up and asked them to sit so that each shaykh had a priest on his right and a priest on his left. And vice versa.

What was their reaction?
They all ate in silence with their heads down on their plates (he smiles).

So?
They were staying in a hotel at night. We had booked double rooms with single beds. Without telling them, we put a priest and a shaykh in each room. The first person to arrive did not know who he would be sharing a room with. And they came to complain.

Read also - Sister Zeph: “Education is everyone's responsibility. Together.”

What did you say?
We told them that Egyptian traditions prevent unmarried male and female couples from sharing the same bedroom, but nothing prevented two men of different religions from doing so. And they asked us: what about praying? Nothing prevented them from praying in front of a stranger. We finally convinced them. And in the end, many of them became friends and are still in contact today. It is a method we have continued to use. It is very much like what we do here at the Rimini Meeting, where people meet each other, get to know each other, and this distances them from hatred and brings them closer to God’s message, who invited us to live together in peace.

What did it mean to you to be in Rimini with the exhibition on the flight to Egypt?
Because of what happened in the past, there are remnants of ancient conflicts, what some people call a “clash of civilizations.” I want to make my contribution to turn this clash of civilizations into a complementarity of civilizations. At the Meeting, we work to get to know those who are different and learn that freedoms can be protected, without erasing differences. This is the mission Christ teaches us: to open up and accept everyone. That is what you accomplish with the Meeting.