Some people asked us how we had found out about Mar Musa, but given that it’s in the Lonely Planet and has been featured more than once in the New York Times, it’s really not that much of a secret. You can show up unexpectedly and stay the night for free, meals included, though you are encouraged to leave a donation in the church box as a token of gratitude. Dan and I decided to stay overnight, so I was shown to the dorm room for temporary female visitors, where I had my pick of bunk beds because there were few other short termers there. Those who stay more than a few nights are moved to a newly completed building where permanent and long-term residents live. Conversations with other travelers also revealed that people who have been to Mar Musa tend to return for repeat visits. A German math student said, “It’s just one of those places you come back to.”
The monastery’s pride and joy is its church filled with gorgeous medieval wall paintings. Although it is damaged, my favorite image is naturally of St. Simeon the Stylite, who lived on top of a column for forty years in search of solitude. Candles illuminate the church most of the time, even though there are electric lights, just because they add more to the atmosphere. It is fun to see the saints peeking at you through flickering candlelight. Every evening Mar Musa residents, including overnight guests, are encouraged to come to an hour-long meditation session, where you can either sit and dutifully gather your thoughts or read scripture by holding the pages dangerously close to lit candles. This is followed by either mass or vespers (we went to vespers because we came on a Saturday). The services are primarily in Arabic, and there are clearly specific prayers, bodily positions, and calls and responses that are well known to those who have been at Mar Musa for a while. I followed as well as I could and watched everyone around me. Some parts of the service are free form, and people call out prayer requests or expressions of gratitude to God in their own languages. Many visitors appear to find Mar Musa to be an intensely spiritual place. When the Abouna in charge swung his censer and sent smoke billowing in our direction, most people crossed themselves and one guy reached out his hand to grasp at the smoke, then pressed it to his face as if he could absorb the holiness through his pores. At Sunday mass, during which the church was lit by a powerful shaft of sunlight powering its way in through a single window above the apse, the incense that floated up into the light twisted itself into a column of smoke, which was then sucked out the window as if through a straw.
After services, we had a communal dinner and ate a simple but excellent meal of bread, yogurt, cheese, and soup. Everyone in the community is very friendly and I felt welcome to eat and chat as if I’d been around a while. One of the visitors, a woman from Denmark, was even encouraged to go check on her soccer team, which was playing a World Cup game at the time. (Mar Musa does not advertise this heavily, but there is a TV around there somewhere!) I didn’t get to meet Mar Musa’s head honcho, Father Paulo, who must be very hardcore indeed since he had reportedly headed off alone into the desert with meager provisions a few days before we arrived.
Mar Musa is beautiful and definitely worth one visit, but I don’t know if I will ever return. I couldn’t feel whatever vibe keeps calling people back, most likely because when I think of a “monastery” I bring my own—certainly unfairly inflated—set of expectations. The church is beautiful, and the communal atmosphere is welcoming and pleasant, but it felt more like a church retreat than a taste of the exotic “monastic” experience.
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