Close-knit Coptic Christians thrive in church

Pat Schneider — 10/01/2008 9:44 am

The spicy scent of incense fills the airy chapel as a bearded priest chants, the hymns punctuated by the clank of cymbals and a triangle. The congregation, men on one side, head-scarfed women on the other, sings in reply.

The Mass is a ritual both familiar and exotic to the Madison Diocese's Bishop O'Connor Catholic Pastoral Center on the city's west side. A growing local community of 50 or more Coptic Christians worships there each month, though members are working to provide St. Mary and St. Rewais Coptic Orthodox Church a home of its own.

Called the church of the Pharaohs, from whom Coptic Christians trace themselves as descendents, the Coptic Orthodox Church separated from the Roman Catholic Church in the year 451 in a schism over the dual divinity and humanity of Christ. The rift has been healed, however, and the two churches now emphasize their common roots.

Headquartered in Egypt, Pope Shenoudia III of Alexandria presides over what has been a worldwide expansion of the Coptic Orthodox Church in the past four decades to some 18 million members. From single churches in New Jersey and California in the 1960s, the faith has grown to more than 100 churches in the United States and Canada. Local Copts estimate their number in North America at up to 1 million.

Often mistaken for Muslims when their Egyptian roots are discovered, local Copts say they just correct the widespread misperception of their background, ancient yet little-known in many parts of the United States.

Copts say their faith has not changed over the centuries, and their adherence to ancient ways means that priests grow beards, as did men in the time of Christ. They also marry and raise families, says Father, or "Abouna," Jacob Nadian, recently named by Pope Shenoudia to serve the Madison church. How else could a priest counsel married couples about the trials and joys of family life, Nadian asked in an interview following the three-hour Mass last month.

The liturgy of the Mass is projected via laptop computer to a screen where worshipers may follow in English, Coptic or Arabic. Nadian's sermon on a recent Sunday, in English, reflected universal Christian values, cautioning against excessive pride and commanding listeners to "love thy neighbor as thyself."

Communion is presented in the form of both bread and wine, and like members of the Catholic and Eastern Orthodox churches, Copts believe the two are transubstantiated into the body and blood of the crucified Christ. The oldest to the youngest partake, as Nadian carries a bit of consecrated bread to an old woman too frail to leave her pew, and later spoons a taste of wine onto the lips of pre-schoolers.

Copts fast before they take communion, so after the service, everyone heads to a shared meal where they socialize and linger for hours.

"Abouna, come bless the food. We are hungry and no one can eat until you bless it,' Michael Farag cheerfully calls out as Nadian makes his way toward a spread of American and Egyptian delicacies.

Farag traveled from suburban Chicago to attend Mass in Madison, something not unusual because there are relatively few Coptic churches in the Midwest.

Khalaf Kisar, an engineering student at Waukesha County Technical College, said he was happy to find an Egyptian Coptic Church within traveling distance. He, like many of the students attracted to St. Mary and St. Rewais, came from overseas and is looking for familiar signs of home.

"They are my family now," Kisar, 28, said of the Madison Coptic community.

To organizers of the local church, providing that kind of supportive community is a primary goal -- and growth strategy -- right down to providing transportation to services.

"I wanted students to feel surrounded by family and friends so they know they are not alone here, said organizer Awad Hanna, a professor of engineering at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. "If they need something or are ill, they can turn to any of us."

Hanna praised Madison Catholic Bishop Robert Morlino, who spent time in Egypt as a student, for his generosity in lending the space to the local Copts while they raise money to buy a church.
A warm feeling of community fills the after-Mass gathering. Men, women and children -- one by one, together as families -- stop by to give Abouna affectionate hugs and kisses of greeting.

Nadian grasps their hands with a wooden cross palmed in his right, which many stoop to kiss.

The cross reflects the fact that it is God they honor with the kiss, not the priest, he explained later.

Children are everywhere: at Mass, at social gatherings. They call adults of the community "uncle" and "aunt," despite the lack of blood bonds.

"We love family life," Nadian said. "We love each other. Everywhere you go, Coptic people are so loving to the community they live in."

The care and concern extends to political leaders. The day's Mass included a litany for the president, a prayer offered around the world for political leaders. "We pray that God guides them and gives them the wisdom to do what is good for the people," Nadian said.

Coptic women play a traditional role in the church, and do not serve on the altar. In daily life, "we do everything," including pursuing higher education and holding professional jobs, said Paulette Hanna, Awad's wife, who is an engineer for the state of Wisconsin.

She and other women said religion plays an important role in the life of Coptic families. "It's great. It keeps the kids close," said Fatina Latif.

Young people say they are encouraged to marry within the Coptic faith, but unions with others are accepted.

"Everyone is welcome here," said Sandy Goodchild, cradling her infant daughter. She married a man who was raised Catholic, but who then studied and was baptized in the Coptic faith.

"They haven't changed the religion at all for Americans," she remarked.

"It's a very close, very friendly group," said Sandy's husband, Matthew Goodchild, who studied Coptic orthodoxy with Nadian.

"He made me work," Goodchild remarked, and described their relationship now as a friendship with some father-son feelings.

Few of his acquaintances are familiar with the Coptic Church, Goodchild said, but he does his best to fill them in on it.

Before he made his ties with the Coptic faith, Goodchild said, he was not much of a churchgoer. "Now I'm finding it's a big part of life."

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