protothema.gr in the Monastery of Sinai, guarded by faith and threatened by power: The monks, the Bedouins and the watchful eye of Egypt

The Monastery of St. Catherine at Sinai, a steadfast stronghold of Orthodoxy for 17 centuries, is now at a pivotal moment in its history. Delegates from “THEMA” journeyed to this sacred site, navigating the unforgiving desert and stringent checkpoints to uncover an unrecognized world: the monks who diligently defend this sanctum of faith, the Bedouins serving as unobtrusive sentinels, and a community that, within its austere confines, reveals sacred images, relics, and rare manuscripts—an experience that can only be felt.

The journey to St. Catherine’s Monastery is uniquely challenging. Opting to travel via Sharm el-Sheikh instead of Cairo saved us significant time—three hours versus nearly eight. However, this route is anything but straightforward. The assigned driver is not just any driver; he is your protector in the desert, adept at navigating police checkpoints, understanding when to pause and when to proceed. This journey entails crossing several roadblocks manned by armed police and soldiers.

The road stretches eerily straight through the desert. Hot winds, silence, sand, and mountains envelop you; the sun absorbs everything, casting no shadow. Suddenly, a Bedouin stands beside the road with an empty water bottle. Our driver continues unimpeded: “We don’t stop for these things. It could be a trap,” he warns, eyes fixed ahead. Here, survival instincts prevail over the heat. Upon approaching the monastery, the final check is the most rigorous. We didn’t have to introduce ourselves; they already had our information—name, lodging, route, contacts. Entering the monastery grounds feels like a return to childhood, reminiscent of eagerly anticipated Easter classics—like “The Ten Commandments,” with Charlton Heston as Moses. From a corner of the courtyard, the scene feels unchanged: the same figures, the same expressions. The Bedouins, with their camels, dark eyes, and dusty attire. The monks, bearing silence through the ages. The stark, sacred landscape feels as if it is part of the very film that once transfixed you onscreen—only now, you’re living it.

The Guesthouse

Staying at the monastery guesthouse proved to be a wise decision. St. Catherine’s offers accommodations for pilgrims at around 90 euros per night, including breakfast and dinner. Expect simplicity rather than luxury; rooms feature two beds separated by a vintage bedside table, and a worn air conditioner barely manages the desert heat. In the bathroom, a solitary bar of soap stands as a symbol of minimalism. Staying within the monastery is an option, but it requires special permission and a lengthy process, particularly for those seeking a retreat rather than mere lodging. While the food in the guesthouse is sufficient, it lacks excitement—a modest dinner of three small kebabs, bread, and a simple salad is memorable only for its adequacy. However, the briam prepared by the monks is said to be exceptional.

Entering St. Catherine’s Monastery is an indescribable experience. Once inside, everything transforms. It’s not just the coolness of the stone walls; it’s the stillness that envelops you, prompting an instinctual hush. The environment encourages reflection, urging you to pause and absorb your surroundings. The austerity is palpable: bare walls, shadows, a courtyard seemingly frozen in time. Here lies the cave of Moses, where, according to tradition, the prophet rested after fleeing Egypt, accompanied by the revered burning bush, a descendant of the original witnessed by Moses.

The Church of the Saviour, dim and atmospheric, is the pilgrimage’s heart. Under muted light and soft prayers, visitors stand before the icon of St. Catherine, with the saint’s bone placed nearby. Some gently touch it, others gaze in tears, many simply ponder in silence. Among the diverse pilgrims from far-off places—such as Colorado or Mexico—suddenly, a familiar Greek word punctuates the air. Surprised, the monks exchange smiles, ask questions, and exhibit childlike curiosity. The Greek language brings not just speech but a sense of home.

3.5 Million Euro Library Renovation

In light of recent tensions following the Egyptian court’s ruling to seize the monastery’s property, access to the library was complicated. The monks hesitated—not from distrust but due to pressures from both Athens and Cairo, weighing heavy upon them. The notion of shutting down the monastery in protest carried significant political and symbolic ramifications, hindering initiative and public discussion. Father Porphyry, a former journalist, understood the media’s psyche well. Perhaps for this reason, he expeditiously opened the rare library for our visit, albeit with the caveat that time was limited and conditions were strained.

Father Justinian, the librarian, welcomed us with a quiet grace characteristic of those who have devoted their lives to a cause greater than themselves, gently guiding us through a collection of 11,500 books and over 3,500 manuscripts—written in various languages on parchment, papyrus, and ancient paper. The Synoptic Codex, dating back to Constantine the Great, is a significant relic, along with the Gospels, illuminating a world of writing and artistry crafted in prayer. To observe these manuscripts closely amounts to touching history itself.

Conversations about renovating the St. Catherine’s Monastery library began as early as 2000, with the Egyptian government collaborating with the monastery and the St. Catherine’s Mount Sinai Foundation to propose an initiative involving a local construction firm, which delayed the project’s commencement. The final push came from Archbishop Damian of Sinai and the Holy Synaxis, who authorized the complex renovation project in 2014, wrapping up four years later. The renovation was fully funded by the Saint Catherine of Mount Sinai Foundation, costing nearly 3.5 million euros. Project manager George Sapiridis, a civil engineer specializing in Byzantine restoration, noted the crucial involvement of Father Hesychios, architect Peter Koufopoulos, and engineer Dimitris Dontos.

Transporting materials through the harsh desert and navigating bureaucratic hurdles turned this project into a remarkable achievement. Notably, half a million euros alone were allocated for constructing specialized double-walled cases that maintain optimal temperature and preservation conditions for rare manuscripts. Additionally, a cutting-edge fire suppression system was implemented to safeguard precious documents from flames, while handcrafted wooden furniture from skilled Thessaloniki carpenters adorned the library, balancing Byzantine simplicity with modern functionality. Mr. Sapiridis emphasizes that this library meets the highest international preservation standards, solidifying the monastery’s status not only as a religious site but also as a custodian of global cultural heritage.

Prayer to Allah

Just outside the main gate of the monastery, a plainclothes Egyptian policeman observes quietly, almost invisibly among visitors. He carries no visible firearm and blends seamlessly, yet his presence is a necessary aspect of the monastery’s daily operation. We observe him pause to unfurl a prayer mat and kneel, facing the monastery, momentarily drawing upon an evocative image. There’s no mosque, no minaret, yet he prays to Allah amidst one of the oldest Christian monasteries alive. I approached him respectfully, asking to capture this moment. He declined with a polite smile: “I’m a police officer, not here to show off. I pray when I feel it’s right.” He reiterated that the monastery poses no restrictions; rather, he sees it as a place of shared duty and respect.

“At Sinai, we’ve always lived together—Muslims and Christians. Muhammad himself said to never harm this monastery,” he added, returning quietly to his post. A few feet away, a solitary figure stood with arms crossed and eyes observing all around. Initially mistaken for undercover law enforcement, he ultimately identified himself as an archaeologist, dispelling any doubts we held with a disarming smile. He calmly downplayed the tensions surrounding the Egyptian court’s decision regarding the monastery’s property: “The commotion is exaggerated. If you read the ruling closely, the monks’ roles remain unchanged; they’ll be here as they always have.”

He may have a point, yet the monks themselves lack definitive confirmation of that ruling. Caution prevails among them. As long as ownership remains ambiguous, certainty eludes anyone, and no monk wishes to explicitly trust a system that could betray their reliance overnight. Inside the monastery walls, emotions run deeper: the monks are not merely anxious but outraged. Though they choose silence publicly, their indignation is palpable. News of needing to pay rent on an orchard long tended is especially grievous—a section integral to the monastery’s heritage, sustainability, and their very lives.

“Enough is enough…” one monk expressed vehemently, a rare intensity echoing within monastic circles. Beneath that sentiment lies exhaustion, mistrust, and feelings of betrayal by a state perceived to be dismantling what they’ve nurtured for 15 centuries.

The Bedouins

Adjacent to the monastery walls, resembling a natural extension, are the Bedouins’ homes—modest stone structures integrated harmoniously into the Sinai desert landscape, crafted from the same stone as the monastery. Among camels, children, and men in traditional kelebias, this tribe may lack formal identity, yet they possess a significant role. They serve as watchful sentinels, their penetrating gazes quietly scrutinizing visitors. The Bedouins coexist seamlessly with the monastery. They offer desert rides along paths said to trace Moses’ footsteps, with full packages priced around $25 and shorter photo ops costing $5. Many visitors come merely for the photo opportunity—a snapshot against the desert backdrop with a camel, a representation of survival for the Bedouins. They offer a range of goods, from jewelry and key chains to Sinai “holy stones,” assumed to be imbued with energy. This commerce is their means of survival, a means to extend their lives in this land. Beyond trade and camels, the Bedouins stand as vigilant protectors of St. Catherine’s Monastery, knowing every path, every nook of the mountains, and every sound that disrupts the desert’s tranquility.

Exiting the monastery, you leave with more questions than you came with. Sinai offers no easy answers. It presents images, silences, and the unwavering faith of its inhabitants—not only in God but also in their historic purpose. Amidst the judiciary upheaval, amidst the shouting and uncertainty, another monk quietly remarked, “St. Catherine will have the last word. Only she will.” And as journalists, we felt a shared sense of responsibility, a commitment to safeguard—in the spirit of journalism—this historic Sinai Monastery, standing beside those who, with steadfast faith, preserve the flame of a 17-century tradition.