retrospective: a feast in the desert

As I’ve begun to build this blog, I’ve been reflecting on some of the transformative moments I’ve experienced around the table in the past. So I’ve decided to occasionally offer a retrospective reflection on some of these meals (which will also help when I need some quick material to write about!). So here’s the first of the series.

In January of 2008, I had the opportunity to travel to Egypt with fellow students from the Wake Forest University School of Divinity for a cultural immersion trip. We were there to experience Christianity as a minority religion, and to learn about and promote interfaith dialogue. The following is from an online journal I kept while I was there:

There wasn’t much hot water in the hotel this morning, so after a cold shower we headed to Wadi Natrun, an area in the desert with several active Coptic monasteries and the historical birthplace of monasticism. It was still hard to believe that we were actually in Egypt. Even as I looked out of the bus window at the Pyramids, the shroud of morning mist rising from the Nile made them seem like a mirage.

When we arrived at the Saint Bishoy monastery we were greeted by Father Cedrac, who gave us a tour of the monastery and told us about monastic life. I was particularly interested in the dining room. The domed ceiling not only helped to keep the room cool, but it had an acoustic value, too. It amplified the sound of someone’s voice from across the table (which was literally across the room!), so that you could hear them, and they you.


We ran over our allotted time for the tour and missed our lunch appointment, so Father Cedrac, in true hospitality, offered to feed more than 20 of us! It was a simple meal of pita and fava beans with lemon and cumin, and hot tea to drink, but the table fellowship we experienced was amazing. Not only did we share the food, but we also had to work cooperatively to mash the beans, add the spices, and serve each other. We finished it off with a sweet sesame seed dessert (think baklava with a denser consistency and less nutty).


It was almost surreal—another “mirage” of sorts—to sit in this sacred place in the middle of the desert, surrounded by people from four different faith traditions, everyone sharing this meal together. An interfaith dialogue erupted as Father Cedrac and our Muslim tour guide, Amr (pronounced "ah-mr," even though we called him "Amr the Hammer"). What began with a boil soon simmered, and then reduced as the flavors of these two faiths came together, affirming the good in the other while denouncing the evil, fanaticism, and ignorance in their own. We didn’t come to any conclusions or figure out how to live together as distinct and different people(s), but I don’t think we could have (or should have). Amr said of those types of dialogues, “There are just question marks. No comments.”

What we experienced that day in the desert was a celebration of our common humanity, communicating honestly and openly and sharing our most basic human resource: food. A simple meal in a desert place became a sacred feast around a common table. We saw in action what the architecture of the monastery’s dining room was meant for—hearing the Other’s voice around the table.

What experiences of interfaith dialogue have you had? Have you ever gained understanding of someone very different from you over a meal? What can we do to hear one another better, even when we differ?

Father Cedrac, teaching us about Coptic Christian monasticism. This was right before he answered his cell phone (no lie!).

Amr showing us how to mash up the fava beans to create a hummus-like spread.