I had one of the most profoundly moving experiences of my trip at the birthplace of SAINT CHARBEL in the high mountain village (the highest in Lebanon) of Bkaakafra.
Saint Charbel (1828-1898) was a Maronite monk who spent 23 years as a hermit and was an avid student of philosophy and theology. After his death, many healing miracles were attributed to him and he became a canonized saint of the Catholic Church.
When I visited the home of his birth (which has been turned into a museum and shrine of sorts) late one night, there were many people there, including several recently arrived Syrian refugees. People were praying, sleeping on the floor and huddled in groups lighting candles. After a few minutes of silent prayer, I began to weep uncontrollably. Soon…..everyone…..was weeping openly, in unison, as if at a funeral. Everyone looked at each other and acknowledged what was happening, and silently continued until they were finished. Many people still come here to pray for healing miracles and to celebrate the life and piety of this “Patron Saint of Lebanon.” I am not sure why I was crying…..perhaps it was the collective strife embodied in all the refugee families, or an amalgamation of all the heartbreak I have endured over the last few years in my romantic life, or the fact that I’d had a few vodkas at Maklouf’s Cafe earlier in the evening. At any rate, something was making me introspective and somber and it felt good to get it out.
The MARONITES are an Eastern Rite community of the Roman Catholic Church founded by Saint Maron, a Syrian hermit of the late 4th and early 5th centuries. Under the Pope, different traditions evolved from the 5 centers of Christendom which were Antioch, Alexandria, Constantinople, Rome and Jerusalem. Maronites come from the Antiochene tradition and migrated to Lebanon under threat of persecution. They were largely able to maintain their religious customs even under occupation because of their geographic isolation in the rough mountain terrain of Northern Lebanon. The liturgies are normally delivered in Syriac Aramaic as they would have been thousands of years ago.
My Dutch friend Saskia and I crashed a wedding being performed in Aramaic at the central church in the town of Tannourine (almost all of Lebanon’s spring water comes from here) and the burly, scary Russian mafia dude guarding the marital “car” let us take some photos before the wedding party exited the church. Later, as we were leaving town, we passed the reception party which was being held in a giant, half built concrete mansion over looking the valley. Cars were parked five deep and there was barely enough room to squeeze through without ripping the mirrors off the old fashioned rentals. As we passed, we saw the blue-eyed Russian guard with the gold teeth. He waved at us as if we were old friends. Friends he would not hesitate to kill if necessary. Nothing personal, it’s just business.
The CEDARS of GOD (Horsh Arz al Rab) are located not far from Bsharri on Mount Makmel (although there is actually a larger Cedar Forrest in the Chouf) at an altitude of 6,600 feet. They are hardy, majestic trees that were once the dominant tree of this mountainous terrain, however, they have been exploited throughout history by everyone from the Phonecians (to build ships) and Soloman (to build the first temple in Jerusalem) to the Ottomans (to build extensive railroads) which has largely caused their near extinction.
There is a slow reforesting effort in progress throughout the country and the hope is that some of these beautiful groves can be restored. Honestly, walking through the grove (which is incredibly small….there is a much bigger, but not as famous one…in the Chouf) it felt a little bit like being in a battlefield after a long and bloddy war. The few soldiers left standing were limbless, exhausted and nearly defeated. The trees do have an energy, though, and an incredible smell. Maybe it is the smell of a certain majesty that has been lost, or of a certain quality of perseverance. While we were here the Lebanese army was taking up the whole backside of the park, unloading guns and backpacks and food from military vehicles and lounging around in the shade waiting for their next orders. It turns out they had just finished a unit “race” from another town and were packing up. I was happy to hear that, because it seemed like they were taking the place over and turning it into some kind of encampment. All the soldiers LOVED my Norwegian friend Eivid’s t-shirt which said, in Arabic, WAZAFUK? This means, “Did he hire you?” and is clearly a play on words by some clever smartass. I plan on buying several of these shirts and wearing them every day.
The Lebanese Cedar is considered the oldest known tree and is mentioned several times in the Bible. There are said to be several trees in the Cedars of God that are between 1000 and 3000 years old.
Since 1976 Lebanon has seen some of the most violent confrontations of recent history in the form of civil war, sectarian clashes and Israeli invasions, yet miraculously, construction has been a a continuously profitable investment and the real estate market has proved very resilient indeed.
traded company on the Beirut Stock Exchange.
Khalil Gibran was a man after my own heart. A poet, painter, sculptor, wanderer, philosopher, activist, dreamer and inveterate lover of love, he was born in the Northern mountain town of Bsharri, Lebanon in 1883 and buried there in 1931.
The town, of about 100,000 people, sits high above the Qadisha (Holy in Aramaic) Valley which is a deeply spiritual place full of ancient monasteries carved into the sides of cliffs and old cave dwellings where famous hermits (five of whom became canonized Saints) used to pray and live. This Valley became the spiritual center for the Maronite Church in the 7th Century and was one of the centers of Christian resistance during the protracted Lebanese Civil War (1975-1990). Aramaic was still spoken here until well into the 19th century which contributes to the strong and peculiar local accent still audible today. It is one of the most ancient Christian monastic communities in the Middle East and it has a palpable, resonant power that is impossible to describe but that can be felt as soon as you step into the valley. It is possible to walk a winding trail that takes you to most of the twenty six monasteries in the region, all of them more than 1000 years old.
Born into a Maronite Catholic family, it is fitting that Gibran would be from a town historically associated with all of the complex sides of love. At his core, he was a lover……of words, of art, of truth, of women. This is especially true when it comes to his relationship with Mary Haskell, an older woman who he fell in love with at an early age and who became his mentor and confidant throughout the rest of his life. It was she who purchased the monastery in Bsharri that would become his final resting place and saw to it that he was returned to his native land. This is an excerpt from one of his letters to her:
A man of incredible intensity and depth of feeling, he was also a very talented painter and sculptor, many of his works being erotic nudes of women and couples. Several of them are now on display in the upper part of the Gibran museum which also houses his tomb and a selection of his personal effects from his art and writing studios.
I met Fady through the mysterious, outrageous and always dynamic Miss Crystel Lett, an American R&B singer on tour for the summer in Beirut. Crystel is fond of pirates, renaissance fairs, inappropriate jokes, men with insanely buffed torsos, USDA Prime beef, shirts made out of strings, small dogs and Fady.
This music really drives me wild. I am a “latin dance enthusiast” at home in the states and recently checked out the Beirut scene at El Gardel (every Wed. night in Gemayzze) It’s a very lively crowd with a bunch of incredible dancers, especially Nassib from AUB and the group from In Motion dance studio. Anyway, I swear to God…..when I hear this music…my culo just wants to MOVE. Fady pulled over and I almost danced my way off a cliff but I was saved by my good friend ERIC who is responsible, vigilant and kind. More on him later. He will get his own section, in fact.
The sect is secret and closed to new converts with the rationale that the religion was open to new believers for a generation when it was first revealed and everyone was invited to join. Since they believe in reincarnation, and that everyone alive today is the reincarnation of someone who lived at that time, there is no reason to allow them to join today.
Druze religious books are accessible only to the initiates or the UQQAL (knowers) many of whom are women. The remaining members or JUHAL (the ignorant ones) accept the faith on the basis of tradition.
I discovered this sign on my first day walking through the neighborhood of Achrafieh, a Christian enclave in the Eastern part of the city that sits on a hill and is full of winding streets, cafes and staircases.
We met at RADIO BEIRUT (the coolest new venue in town) through my friend ERNESTO CHAHOUD (also hairy and named after Che Guevara because his parents were communists) who is the brilliant DJ who started the Beirut Groove Collective and continues to bring amazing talent to the Beirut scene as well as help revive the careers of old masters like funk super-star Rickey Calloway.
