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Monastery
of St. Moses (Mar Musa)
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The
Syrian Desert north of Damascus is a desolate wasteland of steep, barren hills
that rise over burning plains of rock and sand. The scenery here is vast and
elementally empty, a biblical wilderness devoid of any life. At least that’s
how it appears at first sight; but look closer and the land reveals a rich and
layered history.
Roman
roads and staging posts; the crumbling remains of a summer palace that belonged
to the flamboyant Princess Zenobia of Palmyra; ancient irrigation systems used
by Roman garrisons and Byzantine monks… And, hidden away at the end of a small
valley, the 6th century Monastery of St. Moses the Abyssinian, Deir Mar Musa al
Habashi, where a small religious community of priests is working to bring life
to the desert.
Abandoned
at the end of the 19th century, Mar Musa was rediscovered in 1982 by a young
Italian Jesuit who had come to the Qalamun Mountains for a spiritual retreat.
Since then, Father Paolo dall’Oglio has established a small ecumenical
community of priests, nuns and monks at Mar Musa. The community is active on
many fronts: they dedicate much time to promoting dialogue and understanding
between religious communities - Muslim, Christian, Jewish, Hindu and Buddhist.
They are also working on the restoration of the 11th century church with its
frescoes and intricate woodwork.
The
Search for Water
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The
Syrian Desert is a desolate wasteland of steep barren hills
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Life
at the monastery is not easy though. Traditionally, man always lived in harmony
with the inhospitable desert environment here, until the 19th century when the
balance between humans and their environment gradually deteriorated. The
resulting problems - desertification and pollution in particular - have
increased dramatically during the 20th century. The valleys around the monastery
have, until now, been largely spared and they remain a sanctuary for plants and
animals. However an increase in population, together with a return to farming,
has put further pressure on the already frail environment in the region. Too
many people are competing for too few resources and the community at Mar Musa
has realized they have to actively intervene if they want to secure their future
at the monastery.
Lack
of water, which drove the religious community away in the 19th century, is still
a serious problem. Father Paolo explains that when he discovered the abandoned
monastery and decided to restore it, water was his first concern. Initially the
monks had to rely exclusively on the water collected in the Roman cisterns that
the hermits had used in old times. “Water is everything for us; it is what our
future depends on. Finding and not finding water affects me a lot. Every drop of
water I care about and I can feel it in me,” he says. “When we were digging
for water and we didn’t find any, I was almost physically affected. My
thoughts were 500 meters underground, at the bottom of the well, trying to feel
the water,” he says with passion.
Father
Paolo doesn’t strike you as a priest: he wears baggy trousers, a red and white
checkered kheffiyeh is draped loosely around his neck, and wrap-around
sunglasses protect his eyes from the glaring desert light. In a gruff voice he
talks about life in the desert; he has a faint Italian accent: the r’s roll
off the tip of his tongue like marbles.
“We
made several attempts at digging wells, we dug one and failed; there was not
enough water. We lost all the money from the grant we had received and we had to
start again. We dug another and another. The fourth attempt was successful: on a
dark March night in the middle of an electric storm and driving rain, we finally
found water. It was like a miracle: after months of frustration, the sight of
water bubbling up from the depths of this desert land - even if it was muddy and
warm - was like an act of God. Everyone went crazy, people were crying and
laughing at the same time. We slaughtered a ram on the spot to celebrate, and as
it roasted the water continued to flow and became clear and transparent. Since
then we can irrigate our fruit trees,” he says, smiling at the memory.
To
supplement the water from the wells, a small retaining dam has also been built
at the top of the valley. The scarce rain that falls in the Qalamun Mountains
can thus be collected and used on the various projects in the valley.
International
Collaboration
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Pears
and peaches are being grafted onto wild almond trees
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Indeed,
besides restoring the monastery itself, the monks at Mar Musa are working to
revive the barren environment around the monastery, starting with the valley
they live in. Working with international NGOs - the FAO, the International
Center for Agriculture Research in Dry Areas (ICARDA) - the Syrian government,
and local farmers and shepherds, the community of Mar Musa is rehabilitating the
degraded and infertile land which has suffered from heavy overgrazing.
“Improved transport means farmers no longer pay attention to the limits of the
land,” Father Paolo explains. “They let their animals graze until they have
taken the last bit of vegetation and then they transport them by truck to a new
place. It has led to a very unsustainable use of the land and been disastrous
for the biodiversity of the region.”
Using
only local plant species, the monks are now restoring the traditional flora:
pears and peaches are being grafted onto wild almond trees that are notoriously
resistant to heat and drought. The region was also famed for medicinal plants,
which are now gradually being reintroduced. The priests also keep goats and
bees, producing cheese and honey together with local farmers; the ultimate aim
of the project is to improve the livelihoods of the local population.
Eco-tourism
Needs More ‘Spirit’
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There
are so many tourists that the quiet and meditative atmosphere is
completely drowned out by the crowds
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The
biodiversity project at Mar Musa is linked to an eco-tourism project. This part
is more problematic to the members of Mar Musa. Two years ago an asphalted road
was built to the monastery, and visitor numbers immediately shot up. Father
Paolo is resigned. When asked what he thinks of the new road he says, with
French intonation: “Boff. There is not much to say about it. It’s a road,
that’s all. It ruins our view completely but we have to play the game: the
local government is planning to turn our monastery into a tourist attraction and
we have little say in the matter.” He says Fridays are the worst: there are so
many tourists that the quiet and meditative atmosphere that is so important to
monastic life is completely drowned out by the crowds of people. Father Paolo
now seeks to strike a balance and encourage a kind of spiritual eco-tourism that
will respect Mar Musa as a place of silence and meditation.
At
the same time, the fact that there is so much interest for the spiritual center
from both Muslims and Christians living in the vicinity, gives hope to the
community who preach tolerance and mutual understanding.
In
the end, caring for the environment at Mar Musa was not a choice; it was a
necessity. In these tough conditions in particular, man must seek to live in
harmony with his surroundings, disrupting the fragile ecosystem as little as
possible. Ignoring decline in biodiversity and the threat of desertification
would in the long term have made life at Deir Mar Musa impossible. The community
is keenly aware of this. They say: “Should we have chosen not to intervene and
allow the quality of the environment to continue to decline, we would endanger
the very possibility of existing as a place of spirituality and meditation with
a positive social impact. For us, our environment has to be not only protected
but also valued spiritually, aesthetically, biologically, socially, and
economically.”
