North African Journal

Marrakesh is a beautiful place. It reminds me a little of Santa Barbara, California, where I did my internship. It has the palm trees, the mountains and the colors—but not the ocean. Nevertheless, it is a feast for the eye with the beauty of its walls, buildings and the friendliness of its people. I could see why Winston Churchill loved this place so much to not only paint it but to insist that Franklin Roosevelt visited it.

After the January 24 press conference in Casablanca in 1943 Churchill talked Roosevelt into going to a place he loves - Marrakech. For them, the trip to Marrakesh was to see the sunset on the snows of the Atlas Mountains. The two leaders relaxed and enjoyed a picnic during the five-hour journey to Marrakech and arrived at about 6 p.m. A six-story sloping tower provided a perfect view of the mountains, but as the narrow, winding stairs couldn’t accommodate Roosevelt’s wheelchair, two Secret Service agents made a cradle of their hands and carried the president to the top of the tower. There, the two world leaders sat for half an hour enjoying the view. On the morning of January 25, when Roosevelt was leaving, Churchill rushed out at the last minute to say goodbye. With his usual disregard for convention, the prime minister appeared wearing a red-dragon dressing gown and black velvet slippers with his initials embroidered on the toes. Churchill refused photographers an opportunity to take a picture. That would never happen now with today’s paparazzi. Later Churchill paints a picture of the view.


Marrakesh is full of romance and interest. After breakfast we get a guide from the concierge. He is friendly and cheap, but not so knowledgeable. He takes us on our first stop to a botanical garden along a side street that seems out of the way. At first we wonder why. It is a place called the Marjorelle Gardens. As we walk through the door, we see one of the most spectacular gardens that I have ever seen. It is manicured and perfect and mostly a cactus garden. There are pots with beautiful plants; blue seems to be the dominating color. There is a wonderful little museum featuring Berber art.


The Berbers are a people who are defined in many ways. They may be seen as mediterraneans or as people west of the Nile. They, of course, are a big part of the Moroccan culture. Before adhering to Islam, most Berbers were Christians; in fact, St. Augustine of Hippo was a Berber. He appears to be the only true Christian Orthodox Berber as the rest of the Berbers have a long line of heresies, beginning with the Donatist schism, and later with Arius, another Christian theologian who became a major heretic. Beyond all this, I am fascinated by their art and food.

But back to the museum – it is filled with Berber and Muslim artifacts, mainly ceramics, jewelry, traditional weapons, garments and uniforms. I love the art; it really is unique. Amid the garden is a monument to Yves Saint Laurent (I am assuming you know who that is).


I remember my first interview when I was a seminarian, and I went to get a suit and picked out a tie. I noticed that the tie I had chosen had little initials on it—YSL. That was my first introduction to Ives Saint Laurent who, I have since learned, was born in Oran, Algeria. He was picked on as a kid, but would later grow up to be famous. He evidently loved this place and had a home nearby. In the shade of the banana trees is what looks like a Roman column on top of an ocher base. He evidently bought these gardens and restored them as a visual paradise. That is saying a lot, when all you have to work with is cacti.

After that we are off again with our guide, and we stop by the large tower of a mosque that dominates our view, the Koutoubia Mosque. We continue on to a very interesting and beautiful hotel which will later become a haunt for us - Les Jardins de la Koutoubia. It is elegant and we have dinner there later. Prices are still good, even in such a nice place.

The souk is huge; you see snake charmers, monkey trainers and handlers, people dressed in bright colors, with women mostly covered—but even that is attractive. You start noticing eyes.

After that the tour sort of ends with him taking us to shops and stores. I am a shopper, so I don’t mind, but I am not sure about Tim and John. First to a carpet place where the owner gives us lessons in Berber carpet and other things. We have been set up and, I am sure our guide gets a kickback. That is the name of the game over here. Next, on to a bigger shop where I get into a huge bargaining episode that ends with no sale. Tim and John cannot believe it. No sale! I can’t believe it either. All I say is,” I guess we have found their margin.” The bargaining continues in the street, but still no deal. In calmer moments I realize I saved myself a lot of money.


Then we are off to an apothecary, a herbal expert, who give us a lecture on herbs, spices and cures. John actually buys something and gets a leg massage for his sciatica that is really bothering him.

In the end, a delightful day in a wonderful, magical and beautiful place.

Riding the Marrakech Express

“Looking at the world through the sunset in your eyes Traveling the train through clear Moroccan skies… Colored cottons hang in the air Charming cobras in the square… Striped djellebas we can wear at home well, let me hear you now… Ducks and pigs and chickens call Animal carpet wall to wall… Wouldn't you know we're riding on the Marrakesh Express wouldn’t you know we're riding on the Marrakesh Express They're taking me to Marrakesh All aboard the train, all aboard the train… “

From “Marrakesh express”
Crosby, Stills, and Nash

I find my self on a train after a long journey to get to Casablanca. It seems like we have been flying endlessly—with a delayed take off from JFK through Madrid and finally landing in Casablanca to get on a train that will takes us in a little under 4 hours to Marrakesh a place I have always wanted to see since I first heard the song "Marrakesh Express" by Crosby, Stills and Nash. It was on the “break out album” –self titled and the song was written by Graham Nash, now 60 years old. I am told that Marrakesh was a popular traveling route for hippies in the mid to late sixties—looking for a mythical Arabic land and some hashish. My hippie days are gone but this fits the bill of my imagination of what a Moroccan city should look like.


We are sitting in a first class compartment—with others. The whole ride cost $15. We are with two old gentlemen who look happy to be with each other. They are brothers and across from them is the son of one of them. They are cheerful—I am not. I am just very tired—and fall asleep. I sleep for two hours, amazing—they are laughing and chatting in French. It wakes me up but their cheerfulness is contagious … maybe this is the way you feel when you are on the “Marrakesh Express”. When they see we are awake they smile and answer my many questions about Marrakesh. Their warmth and helpfulness I hope is a prelude to what is ahead for us.

There weather is wonderful—60 degrees—perfect. It is now dark but after we find our hotel we head for the souk—called Djemaa el fna. We take a cab which drops us off at crowded streets and the driver points in a direction down the street. We start to walk and soon see a huge expanse of lights and musicians playing and the aroma of something good cooking. This whole square extends as far as you can see. It is an amazing spectacle that is entrancing.


Where do you begin —we are starving. This looks like a giant out door food court with people cooking. Out of no where we are charmed by some young guy to try his little outdoor restaurant. We are sitting at what could be picnic tables, and an enormous array of food looking at us. Chicken, fish, olives of all kinds, lamb, beef, dates, nuts, vegetables—smoke and steam bring the mouth watering smells to our nose. He makes suggestions—we follow his advice and before we know it we have piles of food before us and it all tastes good. Now what will this cost? I am only in town a few hours and I am going to be taken for a huge bill.I was wrong. Each of us paid $12 for this feast and a very cheerful waiter. What a bargain!


I am taken by the many colors of Marrakesh, especially that Ocher that dominates most everything. There are the palm trees and the ramparts and the Atlas Mountains that give it such a beautiful back drop. What a place.

This Too Shall Pass

Perhaps you don’t reflect much on the past or the past year as the new one is dawning. However, I am plagued with a mind that is always reflecting on things great and small. 2008 was a really mixed bag for me. It was an emotional rollercoaster of highs and lows. Mostly, though, it was difficult. So, when I came across the following quote it hit me like a ton of bricks. Maybe it will speak to you, and may 2009 be the best year ever for you and your family.

“And the king wanted an inscription
good for a thousand years and after
that to the end of the world?”
“Yes, precisely so.”
“Something so true and awful that no
matter what happened it would stand?”
“Yes, exactly that.”
Something no matter who spit on it or
Laughed at it there it would stand
And nothing would change it?”
“Yes, that was what the king ordered
his wise men to write.”
“And what did they write?”
“Five words: THIS TOO SHALL PASS AWAY.”

Carl Sandburg
The People, Yes

A Lesson from the Rolling Stones

One of the things that interest me is longevity. I enjoy looking at classic cars, old ruins, and things that have grown in value over the years. Well, I guess you could say, the Rolling Stones could be on the Antique Roadshow – their value to me, though, is priceless. It is interesting when one of the few intact rock bands meet one of the (arguably) great filmmakers of our lifetime, Martin Scorsese. There is no question in my mind that the cinematography of his film about the Rolling Stones “Shine Your Light on Me” is beyond compare. If you watch it closely, you can see a master at work, and if you study just the band members with their gestures and the way they interact, you discover the aura that surrounds each of them. For example, I really enjoyed Keith Richards who may look like a character out of “The Night of the Living Dead” but comes across to me as a sweet, affable, and friendly old rocker. They all look as though they have been through a few winters, but they come alive when they strap their guitars on and walk into each other’s presence in a theater like the Beacon in New York, where this was filmed.

What flows out of this film for me is that the Stones still have it after all these years, but far more important than that, they love what they do. Throughout the film there are excerpts of interviews with each of them, and the same question comes up ad nauseum: “How long are you going to keep doing this?” You see pictures of them in every decade, being asked this question, over and over and over again. The answer is, they don’t know. All they know is they love it. They love to play the guitar and jam, they love to sing and perform, and they are doing it not for the money anymore but for the love of it. My guess is that they will do it until they can’t do it anymore. Richards put it this way: “Honestly, I’d do this job even if I were in a wheelchair.”

The more I thought about it as I watched the DVD for the second time, the reason it is so inviting or enjoyable is that you can see they just love what they do. And when you can see that, it is inspiring. How many of us could say that we love what we do? I don’t mean just the job you have, but the other things we do in life. I would like to think I could.

A Place at the Table

A few years ago I took a special trip with my friend Tim to the Palestinian city of Cana where I went to the church of the Wedding of Cana. It was a small area in this very populated city. In order to find the church we had to drive down narrow one-way streets until we arrived at our destination with very reasonable souvenir shops surrounding it. There were almost no tourists. I circled around the place and looked at the church and its well-kept gardens. It was very nicely done, but nothing that I would characterize as overwhelming or remarkable. It was beautifully understated. This is so often not the case in the Holy Land where most sacred spots and shrines can even seem a bit gaudy.

The miracle of Cana is traditionally the first miracle of Jesus that begins his ministry. There are many interpretations of the significance of this event, which range from a spat with his mother, to the miraculous power of Jesus, to the symbolism of the wedding occurring on the third day. There is much to draw from the story, and it remains part of the collection of the miracles of Jesus that were recorded in the Gospel of Matthew.


Years later, I made a visit on a member of my parish who, during the course of our conversation, told me that she had a dream about the wedding of Cana and the wine that Jesus had changed from water. She woke from her dream with a thirst that made here want to taste that wine. Then it dawned on her that she had already tasted it, at the altar on Sunday morning. When she related the story, I, too, was enlightened. Blessed and holy wine ready to be tasted… The Eucharist is a celebration of transforming wine that transmits the presence of our Lord. Thank you, Jill - that story will have an even deeper meaning for me. Keep dreaming…

Obama and the Weight of Glory

We have all witnessed over the past week the end of an astonishing campaign for president. I personally am attracted to both John McCain and Barack Obama, in different ways, and for many reasons. Obama’s election is historic, if only because he will become the first black president of the United States. This alone is something to feel proud about if you are an American. Our country has broken through a barrier that many had thought was unbreakable for decades, if that. So, I smile and feel happy to be part of this great country.

As I look forward, my mind flashes to Jimmy Carter who looks old, Bill Clinton who looks tired, and George Bush who looks much older than when he first started. The job somehow can do that to you. As I listened to Obama speak to the huge crowd in Grant Park, I noticed what might be a different tone in his speech. He seemed a bit subdued and serious at what was a happy occasion. I can only guess what he was feeling at that moment, and my guess is that in that sober speech he was beginning to feel the heaviness of the job ahead.

In one sense one has to say, “Who wants this job?” We have witnessed the greatest financial crisis since the Great Depression whose fallout is going to be enormous. The war in Iraq and Afghanistan remains with over 150,000 troops employed in Iraq. We are still heavily dependent on oil, and Americans still feel it every time we get a home heating bill or fill up our tank. We can talk about health care, climate change, immigration, and the future of social security. The list goes on and on as our auto industry sinks to a new low and US dollars find their way out of this country. It is a hefty list for anyone to tackle.

C.S. Lewis wrote an interesting address entitled The Weight of Glory. Every time I think of this address I also think of the brilliant movie The Unbearable Lightness of Being. In the end, both pieces of work point to the heaviness of responsibility and the demands that are required of people who want to live their life with a deep sense of integrity. Our lives can be poisoned when we seek to avoid the things that need to be done. The same is true with being president of the United States. Jefferson called it “splendid misery”. It is my hope that our next president Barack Obama will not fall prey to the temptations of avoiding the tough issues that face our nation. It is my hope that we as a people will let go of the anger, hatred, and animosity which has come to characterize the partisan nature of politics. I am tired of the endless hate that has spewed over the airwaves.

Let’s take on the weight of glory when it comes to our own citizenship and move beyond the labels of Democrat or Republican, conservative or liberal.

Art for a Forgotten Faith

One of the striking aspects of the power of the Judeo-Christian tradition is the art it has spawned through the centuries. I recall being at Chartres Cathedral and being mesmerized by the stained glass and the many subtle and not-so-subtle statuary and architectural design that went into that magnificent place. The same experience can come from hundreds of other cathedrals across the world, one in particular comes to mind which is the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona. It doesn’t take much to see that faith has inspired artists like Chagall, Rembrandt, Matisse, Miró, Dalí, Goya, and countless others. From music to architecture, faith has inspired enormous creativity that moves the human spirit to ever-greater awareness of the beauty and wonder of the Divine in human life.


Today, spirituality and faith do not always seem to be the inspiring engine behind artistic creativity. Art has moved down a secular path. So, when I saw an article recently in the New York Times about an exhibition entitled “NeoHooDoo” at P.S.1 Contemporary Art Center, I was surprised to read that faith once again pops up artistically in unexpected places. In our world today religious art is relegated to museums and, often, religious faith is relegated to a bygone era. I find it refreshing that faith may surface in the art and imagination of young artists who seem to find a spiritual touchstone in aspects of the religious experience. I find this more refreshing than some of the so-called Christian art produced by a wooden imagination locked in the past. As the article said, faith may be not so forgotten after all. There is little question that contemporary art is changing yet again, and in ways that are subtle, yet profound. Put differently, this art moves in a religious way because it asks, “old questions about unanswerables - who are we, who were we, where are we going, what can we be - in slightly new ways, and that’s a start.”


Perhaps our own artistic imagination could use a jump-start, too?