Journal of Theology for Southern Africa 99 (November 1997) 24-39
From Cairo to the Cape
The significance of Coptic Orthodoxy for African Christianity[1]
Department of Religious Studies, University of Cape Town
One of the ironies of church history is that as the Victorian dream of an empire reaching from the Cape to Cairo fades from memory, the ancient Church of Egypt is expanding southward from Cairo to the Cape. Symbolic of this expansion is not only the fact that a Bishopric for African Affairs has been established in Johannesburg, but also the dedication of a Coptic Orthodox Church in Guguletu, Cape Town, on Sunday 6th April 1997 by His Holiness Pope Shenouda III, the Patriarch of Alexandria. What accounts for this remarkable twist in the unfolding of history, both Coptic and African? Who, after all, are the Copts? Since when is there a Pope other than the one in Rome? And what, if anything, is the possible significance of the Coptic Orthodox Church for the future of African Christianity?
While the Coptic Orthodox Church[2] is by the far the largest of the Christian churches in Egypt[3] and at one time included the vast majority of Egyptians within its ranks, it now represents a minority religion within a dominant Islamic [End of 24] state, numbering less than ten percent of the population with approximately six million members. This change of status began with the conquest of Egypt by the Muslim Arabs in 640 CE, an event that led to the initial suppression of Christianity and resulted in the exile of many Hellenised Christians. Long periods of peace, interspersed with times of persecution, ensued. But it was only during the Caliphate of el Hakim (996-1021), when three thousand churches were destroyed and many Christians apostatised, that the Christian majority in Egypt began to wane. Mamluke rule, which lasted from 1260-1517, initiated a period of great insecurity and often violence against the church, which resulted in the further substantial decline in membership.[4] Then from the fifteenth to the eighteenth century, in Adrian Hastings’ words, “the Coptic Church went through a long dark tunnel about which we know rather little.”[5]
What is remarkable, however, is that unlike what happened elsewhere in north Africa, Coptic Christianity has not only survived the persecution of centuries but during the past century has undergone a period of revitalisation and growth despite restrictions on evangelisation in Egypt. Much of this growth has to do with the revival of Christian faith amongst Copts who had drifted into a nominal allegiance to the church. This has been due, in large measure to the leadership of the present Pope, Shenouda III, and his predecessor, Cyril VI.[6]
The revival is evident in the large congregations at the liturgy, the large number of people who attend Bible study,[7] and the equally large number of young people in Sunday schools and youth organisations; the marked increase in the numbers of monks (many of them young professionals) who fill the monasteries,[8] institutions which also attract large numbers of lay people for worship, counsel and relaxation; the vitality of other Coptic educational, diaconal and social institutions; and the participation of the Coptic Orthodox Church in the ecumenical movement after centuries of isolation.[9] Pope Shenouda has also [End of 25] consecrated a many bishops who, separated from diocesan responsibilities, are in charge of mission work, youth work, and theological education. The present growth and influence of the Coptic Orthodox Church is linked to the Coptic diaspora in other parts of the world, not least in North America and Australia where flourishing parishes and seminaries have been established.
This paper cannot do justice to either Coptic tradition (its history, theology, and spirituality in all its richness), nor can it hope to trace the full extent of the present revitalisation of the Coptic Orthodox Church. Moreover, we will not attempt to examine the significance of the Coptic Orthodox Church with regard to Christian and Muslim relations in Africa today, a topic which deserves treatment in its own right. Our aim is more limited. To begin with we will briefly explore the origins, early development, and ethos of the Coptic Orthodox Churches—the original form of Christianity in Africa. We will then consider the significance of Coptic Orthodoxy in Africa today in the light of both its historical ethos and its expansion into sub-Saharan Africa. Then, in our final section, we will reflect more specifically on South Africa, revisiting the debate about Christianity and inculturation in the light of Coptic history and experience.
The original African Christianity
Central to Coptic piety and identity is the Flight of the Holy Family into Egypt after the birth of Jesus.[10] This event, Copts believe, gives Egypt a particular place in the divine economy of redemption, a process that began with the liberation of the Hebrew slaves from Egypt. This historical role of the land of Egypt as the scene of God's revelation is deeply etched into Coptic consciousness, giving to the Coptic Orthodox Church a profound sense of ancient roots, both pre-Christian and Christian. These roots, which straddle the Middle East and Africa, evoke a deep sense of responsibility for the preservation of the apostolic faith and its propagation, not least in Africa.
Historians may argue that “we know next to nothing about the Church in Egypt during the first century and a half of its existence.”[11] Certainly hard historical evidence unaffected by pious legend suggests such a conclusion. But such agnosticism is not shared by Coptic Christians.[12] Supported by the ancient church historian Eusebius, Copts trace their origins back to St Mark the evangel[End of 26]ist, an Egyptian by birth, who established the church in 62 CE and became its first patriarch. One of the leading Coptic scholars, Fr Tadros Malaty, a priest in modern-day Alexandria and an authority on Origen, not only claims that Mark founded the church in Egypt, but that he also established the famous catechetical School of Alexandria.[13]
By the middle of the second century Alexandria was, indeed, the major centre for relating Christianity to Hellenistic thought and culture. Its great luminaries, Clement of Alexandria and Origen, were the leading Christian intellectuals of the time. The Alexandrian Patriarchate was second only to Rome in power and influence. And St Athanasius (c.296-373), bishop and patriarch of Alexandria, was undoubtedly the theologian who was chiefly responsible for defeating Arianism and, along with one of his successors, Cyril of Alexandria, in shaping the future of Eastern Orthodox faith.[14] While it may not be possible to discern the precise contours of Egyptian Christianity prior to the middle of the second century, by the time of the third Ecumenical Council (Ephesus)[15] in 431CE, its dogma was finalised, and the shape of its liturgy, though affected by later Byzantine developments, was well-established.[16] In many respects, the ethos of the Coptic Orthodox Church, most notably its dogma and liturgy, remains that of fifth century Christianity in Africa. Despite the use of modern electronic technology (computers and cell phones are in evidence not only in city parishes but also in the monasteries), Coptic Orthodoxy fears the acids of Western modernity.
The Coptic Church's rejection of the Council of Chalcedon (451 CE) meant that from the fifth century onwards the church in Egypt distanced itself even further from Greek and Latin Christianity. This separation was exacerbated by the unwillingness of Rome or Constantinople to provide any support for the Copts in later history, particularly when Christianity in Egypt was under serious threat following the Arab invasion. The long-term result was, on the one hand, an ever-deeper relation with the people and culture of Egypt and, on the other, a growing sense of alienation from the rest of Christendom. This estrangement has only begun to be overcome in the second half of the twentieth century as the Coptic Orthodox Church has participated in the ecumenical movement. It has also led to a reassessment of Chalcedonian Christianity and the controversial label of “Monophysitism”.[17]
Whatever happens to that ecumenical discussion, the fact is that Christianity in Egypt moved decisively beyond its Hellenistic confines and penetrated deeply [End of 27] into the life and culture of the rural population during the third and fourth centuries. Fundamental to this process of inculturation was the creation of Coptic as a literary language. In contrast to the urban and upper classes that spoke Greek as a result of Hellenisation, the vast majority of the population spoke dialects of pharaonic Egyptian. Largely through the work of well-educated monks, the difficult hieroglyphics of this ancient tongue were replaced by an alphabet based on Greek characters. The result was Coptic. Already by the mid-fourth century, the whole of the Bible had been translated into Coptic.[18] Coptic and Christian became synonymous and remain so even today. Although Arabic is the language of communication within the Coptic Orthodox Church, Coptic remains the language of the liturgy. Largely with this inculturation process in mind, Hastings has appropriately referred to Coptic Christianity of this period as “paradigmatic for the Africa of the future.” He writes:
Starting as a religion of the urban imperial civilization with its Greek language drawn from outside Africa, it had crossed the culture and language gap to appeal to the native African. It had done so by taking his language seriously. Biblical translation into Coptic seems both to have helped generate a new sense of cultural identity.[19]
But as he immediately goes on to say, this translation of Christianity into Coptic culture also helped to trigger off monasticism, “a new religious movement of amazing vitality which was soon to flood back across the universal Church.”
Although deeply embedded within Coptic culture, Coptic Christianity’s most distinguishing characteristic has always been its monastic spirituality. Indeed, Christian monasticism had its origins in the fourth century in the deserts of Egypt in a movement initiated by the famous hermit St. Anthony (c.251?-356), and then by St. Pachomius (286-346)[20] who provided the Rule which structured the common life of the monks. The intention of the Desert Fathers, as they have come to be known, was to discover the reality of God and to learn how to discern God's will in the silence of the Wilderness. Central to the spirituality of the hermits and monks was the waging of an intense spiritual warfare against evil in general and demons in particular.[21]
The eventual impact of their retreat into the desert upon the future of Christianity was remarkably far-reaching.[22] The reputation of Anthony, made known to the Western world through St Athanasius’ Life of Anthony[23] and especially the [End of 28] influence which it had on St Augustine of Hippo, as well as the constant flow of devout visitors to the cells and monasteries even from the earliest times, ensured the wide-spread influence of Coptic monastic spirituality.[24] It was and remains (as can be seen in Pope Shenouda himself) a spirituality marked by celibacy, asceticism, fasting, regular hours of prayer, and poverty. But it is blended with a simple evangelical faith and earthy piety. Coptic monasticism and its spirituality had an important influence on Celtic (Irish and possibly English) Christianity prior to the arrival of Latin Christianity, and therefore on the conversion of Europe, and prepared the way for the later development of Benedictine monasticism which had such a great impact on the shaping of Medieval Europe.[25] The conversion of Europe to Christianity, to say nothing of Nubia and Ethiopia, owes a great deal to Coptic Christianity.
But Coptic monasticism was above all else the vehicle for the conversion of Egypt. The hermits and monks who went into the desert to discover God, also went to protest against the extent to which Christianity, after Constantine, was losing its soul. Its distinctive character of costly discipleship was being lost in the nominal Christianity that accompanied the transformation of a persecuted church of martyrs into the established religion of the Roman Empire. Prior to the Edict of Milan, the church in Egypt had suffered greatly at the hands of imperial Rome, not least during the last and in many ways most ferocious persecution under Diocletian (283-306). Indeed, a sense of being the church of martyrs permeates the ethos of the Coptic Church even today, and is symbolically expressed in the fact that the Coptic calendar begins with the year 248, the “Year of the Martyrs”.[26] So it was perhaps not surprising that, in Louis Bouyer's words: “In a world which no longer treated them as enemies, they would feel obliged to live as enemies of the world: they sensed too well that, without this, they would soon become its slaves.”[27] Monasticism was a form of “bloodless martyrdom.”
An often forgotten fact in this context is that the monastic journey into the desert corresponded with an earlier movement (“Anchoritism”) of Coptic-speaking peasants, many already Christian, who fled into the desert to escape Roman persecution and oppression, refusing to assume the burden of slave labour.[28] Anthony's retreat into the wilderness was in part an act of solidarity with the poor. A young farmer who had received a handsome inheritance from his parents, Anthony literally obeyed Jesus' command to the Rich Young Ruler (Matthew 19). He sold all he had, gave it to the poor, and went with them into the desert.[29] His motives were religious, but that meant they included social concern [End of 29] as well.[30] According to Athanasius, Anthony asked: “Why do the rich grind the faces of the poor?” It is not surprising then, that Anthony and the witness of the first monks won the response of the Egyptian countryside.
By turning their backs on a Christianity which was rapidly becoming the servant of Roman imperialism, as well as by turning away from the dominant Hellenistic Christianity of the Alexandrian metropolis, the monks ensured that Christianity in Egypt, unlike in the rest of north Africa (notably the Magreb where the Donatist Church which had successfully penetrated Berber culture was crushed by the Roman Church with the aid of imperial power)[31] became identified with the common people and their culture. The fact that Athanasius, himself a monk as well as the patriarch of Alexandria and the apostle of orthodoxy, had gone into exile on five occasions rather than succumb to imperial pressure to adopt Arianism, cemented this relationship. In many ways, it is a relationship that has endured through the centuries and remains remarkably alive. As in Eastern Orthodoxy, although priests can marry, all bishops and therefore patriarchs are monks. In this way the link between dioceses, parishes, and the monasteries is particularly strong.
The missionary outreach of Coptic Christianity through the witness of the monks reached deep into Africa. This was notably the case very early on in Nubia and Ethiopia. The same Athanasius who opposed both the Emperor and Arianism also consecrated Frumentius the first bishop of Aksum, the centre of the ancient Christian empire of Ethiopia. As a result the historical, spiritual, and theological ties between the Copts and the Ethiopians have always been intimate. And yet, significantly, the Copts did not impose on the culture of Ethiopia, but rather allowed Christianity in Ethiopia to develop in ways quite distinct—beginning with the translation of the Bible and the liturgy into Amharic.[32]
The present-day expansion of Coptic Orthodoxy through parts of sub-Saharan Africa continues this pattern of inculturation. Yet it is clearly a pattern which occurs within clearly defined boundaries set by the Church's theological and liturgical tradition, along with allegiance to the Alexandrian patriarchy.[33] In this respect the expansion of the Coptic Orthodox Church is not unlike the missionary outreach of other Christian communions. The difference lies, however, in the fact that Coptic Orthodoxy is not a Latin or European implant but an authentically African church, even though, as we shall indicate, its historic associations have been as much Middle Eastern as African. [End of 30]
Since the burgeoning of the nineteenth century missionary movement, the Roman Catholic, Anglican, and Protestant churches have been the major representatives of Christianity in sub-Saharan Africa. More recently, Pentecostalism and especially African initiated churches have become major forces. But the revitalisation of the Coptic Orthodox Church and its missionary outreach into the region will ensure that Orthodoxy will make its unique contribution to the shaping of the future of Christianity in Africa in a way which parallels its growing influence in other parts of the world. This is especially the case given the fact that other Orthodox traditions in Africa, notably Greek Orthodoxy, are largely confined to expatriate communities and have not taken on an African identity.
The significance of Coptic expansion in Africa today
The recent expansion of the Coptic Orthodox Church into sub-Saharan Africa has been led by the Coptic Bishop for African Affairs, His Grace Antonius Markos, who was consecrated to this task in 1976 and took up residence in Nairobi, Kenya the following year.[34] Bishop Markos has been deeply involved in the affairs of the All African Conference of Churches, and has developed contacts at many levels throughout the region.[35] Since he began his work in Nairobi, Coptic Orthodox parishes and monasteries have been established in various countries (including Kenya, Nigeria, Zaire, Zambia, Namibia, and South Africa). But what has perhaps been more significant has been the development of relations with African initiated churches. This began with a visit by Bishop Markos to the Kimbanguist Church in Zaire in 1977, and has gradually expanded throughout the region. Delegations of African initiated church leaders have now regularly visited Egypt at the invitation of Pope Shenouda III. Their experience of the Patriarch is of a leader whose spiritual and pastoral authority, and his identification with the people, is similar to that of all those great African religious leaders (such as Isaiah Shembe) who have attracted large and devout followings among the people. Yet, of course, given the Patriarchy's historical lineage rooted in ancient Christianity, it has added apostolic significance.
Quite apart from formal relationships that may develop between the Coptic Orthodox Church and these African churches, this symbolic connection is significant. Here is the ancient Church in Africa reaching out a fraternal hand towards African churches that have rejected European control and have sought to establish an authentically African Christianity. Some now look to the Coptic Orthodox Church as providing a link with apostolic Christianity that does not detract from being African. This is demonstrated in the ordination of African Orthodox priests by the Coptic Church. The fact that many aspects of Coptic spirituality and practice resonate also with African initiated forms of Christianity makes this relationship meaningful. In Bishop Markos’ words: “Some of the Af[End of 31]rican Independent Churches look at the Coptic Orthodox Church as an orphan would look at who would adopt him, and as the prodigal son looks at his father who waited for him with open arms, to receive him with joy and happiness on his return.”[36] Whether the Coptic Orthodox Church will succeed in developing a closer relationship which may even lead eventually to communion has yet to be seen. As all those who have been involved in developing relations with African initiated churches know, there are many obstacles to overcome. But the absence of any colonial connection, the African identity of the Coptic Orthodox Church, and its ability to take root within African culture, suggests that it has certain advantages over other branches of Christianity.
The absence of a colonial connection at this stage in the development of sub-Saharan Africa might not be as significant as it was during the past few decades when the struggle for independence and liberation was at its height, but it remains a factor that has to be reckoned with. Reflecting on the relationship between Christianity and colonialism in Africa more than a century ago Liberian diplomat and scholar, Edward Blyden, himself an African Christian, made the following trenchant comment:
We do not believe that Africa needed the theological interference of Europe, for the theology of Europe is derived from the conceptions of Roman, Celt and Teuton, which have modified the Semitic ideas promulgated in the Bible. European Christianity is Western Christianity—that is to say, Christianity as taught at Nazareth, in Jerusalem and on the Mount of Beatitudes, modified to suit the European mind or idiosyncracies.[37]
With considerable foresight, Blyden then referred to the role of Egypt as the symbol of the conservation and renewal of Christianity in Africa for the sake of the world:
Just as in times past, Egypt proved the stronghold of Christianity after Jerusalem fell, and just as the noblest and greatest of the Fathers of the Christian church came out of Egypt, so it may be, when the civilised nations, in consequence of their wonderful material development, shall have their spiritual perceptions darkened and their spirit susceptibilities blunted through the agency of a captivating and absorbing materialism, it may be that they have to resort to Africa to recover some of the simple elements of faith; for the promise of that land is that she shall stretch forth her hands unto God.[38]
Given the state of Christianity in Egypt at that time, Blyden might not have expected Egypt to play a leading role in such a renaissance. Nonetheless, as he well knew, Egypt along with Ethiopia are potent symbols, with biblical prece[End of 32]dent, both for the liberation of Africa from slavery and its independence from colonialism.
As is widely recognised, Psalm 68:31 has had a powerful influence on the imagination of African initiated Christianity, as well as on African-American spirituality. From the beginning it adopted the name “Ethiopia”, and “Ethiopianism” became the generic term for African nationalism in its struggle against colonialism.[39] But the Psalm not only refers to Ethiopia, it also refers to Egypt: “Let bronze be brought from Egypt;[40] let Ethiopia hasten to stretch out its hands to God”.[41] Hebrew parallelism suggests that Egypt and Ethiopia are here identified, or at least taken in tandem as expressing two-sides of the same reality though with a different emphasis. Whereas Ethiopia evokes a sense of African identity untrammelled by European or any other foreign power, and thereby is the symbol of African independence, Egypt has always been the biblical symbol of liberation from slavery. On this reading Egypt was the location of God's first great redemptive action in history. Paradoxically this has not meant identifying Egypt as a land of oppression (after all, the pharaohs who oppressed the Hebrew slaves were foreigners), but more positively, along with Ethiopia, as an ancient African kingdom of great wealth, power, and learning which existed long before European colonisation.[42]
Egypt is, in many ways, more self-consciously part of the Middle East than of Africa. This is also true of the Coptic Orthodox Church, which is listed in some ecumenical directories under the Middle East rather than Africa. Copts whom we met on our visit often referred to missionaries going from Egypt to Africa, or to Copts who have spent the “best part of their lives” living and working in Africa. Yet Coptic Orthodoxy is becoming far more aware of its African location as we have already indicated. As such it provides an historical as well as a symbolic link between the birthplace of Christianity within the culture of first century Palestine and Judaism and the African continent with its multitude of cultural and political contexts. But Coptic Orthodoxy is also a living reminder of the ancient roots of Christianity in Africa, and like Egypt itself, it is a symbol of Christianity in Africa without foreign cultural domination or political colonialism.
But it must also be said that the “survival of the Coptic Church . . . is perhaps the best testimony to the maxim that there is logically a necessary connection between the autonomy of a Church to express itself and its survival in relation to its milieu.”[43] However much we may regret the break, by its separation from the hegemony of the Greek and Latin Churches, the Coptic Orthodox Church became [End of 33] the prototype for all African initiated Christianity. Of course, there are important differences between latter-day African initiated churches and the ancient Church of Alexandria with its apostolic tradition. But its break with “European” (Greek and Latin) control, however we assess the reasons,[44] meant that it was able to develop an African identity which not only enabled it to survive the advances of Islam but also to nurture the revitalisation presently underway.
Yet the ecumenical question has to be asked. Is schism an almost invariable consequence of inculturation? Or, to put it the other way around, is schism necessary for inculturation? The experience of the Coptic Church as well as African initiated churches might suggest that both are true, especially the latter. Yet the significance of Coptic Orthodoxy in Africa today could be understood as a concern to reunite African initiated Christianity with its apostolic roots, thereby bringing it back within the fold of the ancient Church—and to do so in a way which allows it to remain African in its manifold forms. Hence its ecumenical and missiological potential in Africa today is apparant.
The linkage between the Palestinian origins of Christianity and Africa are not just symbolic of a Christianity free of colonialism, there is also a profound sense in which Coptic Orthodoxy reflects a strongly Hebraic worldview shared by African Christianity. Blyden put his finger on it in the first quotation mentioned above where he said that Africa did not need a Western Christianity and its theology which had modified the Semitic worldview of the Bible to suit European idiosyncrasies. Christianity, as we have seen, was first planted in Alexandria where, like nowhere else in the Mediterranean world, Hellenism and Judaism creatively engaged each other. In other words, the movement of Christianity from Judaism to Hellenism in Egypt was less a break between the two and more a creative interaction. The Hebrew Bible is not only always read in the Coptic liturgy (in most other traditions it is usually or often, but not always read), and not only are many of its symbols (like those also of the church in Ethiopia) Old Testament in character; above all, its symbolic universe is Semitic.
Coptic Orthodoxy has not entered the modern world on the tail of the European Enlightenment; it has entered the modern world direct from the Sinai Desert, so-to-speak. At some time it, like the rest of African initiated Christianity, Coptic Orthodoxy will probably have to come to terms with the challenges presented by modernity and critical scholarship in ways which are less ghetto-like, but perhaps also in ways which are quite different from that of Western Christianity. Although within a Middle Eastern, Muslim dominated society, it might not have to face as yet some of the issues confronting the church elsewhere, particularly those relating to gender. Perhaps as a result of the Coptic diaspora and expansion in Africa this will change. But hopefully it will do so in ways whereby modernity is healed so that its benefits rather than its acids might be better appropriated. In the meantime, however, the world of both Coptic and African Christi[End of 34]anity is not that of secular disenchantment, rationalism, and cynicism, but one of implicit faith, a world of miracles, of holy time and sacred space.
In his account of his missionary outreach into Africa, Bishop Markos relates the following incident that occurred on one of his visits to Zaire:
One evening the Bishop was walking alone in the grounds of the College when suddenly, on the same level with the Bishop’s face and very close, a large cobra started waving its head, its tongue protruding. The cobra was hissing and its eyes were focused on the Bishop. The Bishop made the sign of the cross on himself and on the cobra and started backing off slowly. Then he turned and quickly went to inform the students who came and killed the snake. They cut its head, rejoicing, for they were going to roast and eat the snake, as it is a delicacy amongst them.[45]
Granted, the Bishop did not miraculously change the nature of the serpent into a harmless beast, nor did he pick up the snake (Mark 16:18). But few of us would have tarried long enough to make the “sign of the cross” or some other religious sign on either ourselves or the cobra. The fact is, monks and priests, to say nothing of lay people, expect miracles to happen in a way which not only reflects the world of the Bible, but also the world of Africa. In the same way, things such as prayer and fasting, pilgrimage to holy places, baptism by immersion in holy water, the use of holy oil in healing, a liturgy in which time stands still (as the priests celebrate the sacred mysteries behind the iconostasis within the “Holy of Holies”, moving around the square altar shrouded in clouds of incense), and, of course, the use of drums in the Ethiopian Orthodox Church, are all Hebraic and African in their ethos and significance, yet undeniably Christian of the most Orthodox kind. Who needs European theology or Western Christianity?
Colonial Christianity and inculturation in South Africa revisited
The story of Christianity in South Africa has been remarkably different to that of Christianity in Egypt. Within our context, Christianity only arrived in the seventeenth century, and it came via Europe along with colonialism.[46] Moreover, it was a major agency of modernisation,[47] penetrating African culture with diverse and conflicting results. During the past century it has had an ambiguous record of both legitimating white supremacy and more recently in assisting in its overthrow. Now, in its manifold forms (but hitherto not much Orthodox presence), Christianity is the predominant religion of a region which is itself a complex amalgam of cultures, religious faiths, and secularism. There is no way of turning the clock back on any of this. For those who are interested in the future of Christianity in South Africa, and in particular on the relationship between Christianity and culture, this is at the same time a perplexing and remarkably rich context within which to consider the issues. [End of 35]
The spread of Christianity, like the spread of any other global religion, has inevitably meant the spread of the cultures of those who have been its evangelists and missionaries. In many places, religious expansion has taken place in tandem with imperialism and colonialism of one kind or another. This has certainly been as true of Islam and Buddhism as it is of Western Christianity. But there have been notable exceptions—Coptic Christianity, itself a victim of Arab expansion, being one of them. The experience in southern Africa was, of course, quite the reverse. Within our context Christianity was the religion of European colonisation, and the nineteenth century missionary movement benefited greatly from the colonial subjugation of the region. Here other religious traditions (such as African traditional religion, Islam, and Hinduism) were suppressed. Indeed, for a long time, the Roman Catholic Church experienced alienation from both Calvinist and Anglican colonial authorities. The strong colonial and missionary opposition to the emergence of African initiated churches indicates as well that antipathy towards other religions was paralleled by a rejection of forms of Christianity that did not fit the colonial paradigm.
Scholars may argue about the extent to which missionaries aided and abetted colonialism, or debate the extent to which colonial power made missionary expansion possible. But nuances and qualifications cannot alter the fact of the connection. The imperial dream of Britain ruling from Cape to Cairo associated with Cecil John Rhodes, a man not known for his Christian piety, resonated well with the “extension of the kingdom of God” from South to north Africa as envisaged by David Livingstone and other missionary-explorers. Understandably, then, some leading twentieth century African intellectual critics insist that the history of Christianity in Africa precludes it from ever becoming truly African.
The linkage between Christianity and European colonialism is undeniable but far more complex than some rhetoric allows.[48] As Egypt and Ethiopia exemplify, Christianity became an African religion long before colonialism, and the assimilation of Christianity throughout sub-Saharan Africa during the past century to a remarkable degree has assisted in overthrowing colonial hegemony and, paradoxically, affirming African culture. Sanneh makes this point when he refers to the fact that the historical intertwining of Christianity and colonialism “masked a real divergence between the logic of colonial overlordship and the interest of the emerging African church where vernacular translation often converged with steps to encourage indigenous ascendancy.” He continues:
In some places missionaries aided and abetted indigenous sentiments by encouraging the founding of political organisations. Here, too, the Western presence was felt along the divergent lines of its political and religious involvement. In their vernacular work, Christian missions helped nurse sentiments for the national cause, which mother tongues crystallised and incited. The dramatic effects of vernacular translation thus prejudiced the colonial cause as much by historical coincidence as by ideological justification. For that reason, vernacular translation outdistanced and outlasted the fortunes of colonialism.[49] [End of 36]
Sanneh’s understanding of “translatability” is much broader than the translation of the Bible or other texts into the vernacular. Translatability can be as much an oral as a written force. It refers to “the willing adoption of any culture” of religion, and in Sanneh’s argument, of Christianity which, he writes, “is equally at home in all languages and cultures, and among all races and conditions of people.”[50] This does not mean that the promoters of Christianity always encouraged this process. On the contrary, they more usually rejected vernacular cultures as inferior, insisting implicitly if not always explicitly, that Christianity had to be accepted within their cultural framework. But, Sanneh insists, in “its most creative phases, Christianity has been a transcultural phenomenon, and its doctrinal system remained plausible at all because of the rich variety of cultures that sustained the church.”[51] Indeed, the whole history of Christianity has been a movement of inculturation symbolised and promoted by the translation of its texts from Aramaic to Hellenistic; from Hellenistic to Coptic, Latin, Celtic, and Slavonic; from Latin to Gothic, and Anglo-Saxon; from Coptic to Amharic; and from various European tongues into a multitude of African and Asian languages.[52]
The historical transmission of the Christian faith, which the missionaries regarded as their primary responsibility, could not have been achieved except through missionary endeavour. The fact that the original missionaries in South Africa were “European Christians” was the inevitable result of Christianity taking root in various European cultures. Indeed, the notion of a “European culture” fails to recognise the diversity within Europe and North America of cultures and of forms of Christianity. Both of these factors affected the planting of Christianity in South Africa, but are generally ignored in the debate about Christianity and colonialism. The reason for this was obviously political, but it is no longer satisfactory to make such generalisations. It is inappropriate to think simply in black and white terms and fail to recognise the full range of cultural diversity within South Africa; it is equally inappropriate to equate Christianity in South Africa today with any particular culture.
The corollary often drawn from the Christianity-colonialism connection, namely that Christianity is a European religion is thus clearly misleading. Of course Christianity became and remained the dominant religion in Europe for the Christendom millennium, and so there is good reason why for many Christianity is equated with Europe. But Christianity had its origins in the Middle East and was well established in north Africa long before the evangelisation of Europe was in its stride. Moreover, the decline of Christianity in Europe since the eighteenth century Enlightenment, and the remarkable growth of Christianity in Africa since the nineteenth century, suggest that even though Christianity was once the dominant religion of Europe that is now no longer the case. Christianity had a far more difficult time penetrating the cultures of Europe than in Africa, and the depth of that penetration is a matter for some debate. Today, many Christians [End of 37] speak about the need for Europe to be re-evangelised by African and other missionaries from the “non-western world”, a process which is already underway in some places.
In contrast to Europe, Africa is now numerically more Christian, and African Christianity is increasingly recognised as being of global significance.[53] Since the end of colonialisation in the 1960's, African leadership has taken over control of the church throughout the continent. If the number of adherents, to say nothing of vitality, is anything to go by, there is now far more reason to regard it as an African religion. The fact is that just as Christianity could not have come to South Africa or sub-Saharan Africa as a whole without missionaries (who happened to be European), it could not have taken root without its indigenous assimilation. Where that did not happen, growth was restricted; where it occurred, growth was often exponential. This the case so much that the real missionaries in South Africa, those who spearheaded the advance of Christianity, were African evangelists not Europeans.
Inculturation and indigenous assimilation inevitably mean a recasting of the Christian tradition in a new idiom. What the missionaries often failed to recognise is that their culture and their Christianity are not synonymous, and that their converts often had to break away in order to become authentically Christian. The missionaries rarely anticipated the extent to which their work would, by its very nature, lead to an indigenous reaction both to the missionaries themselves as well as to colonialism. Ethiopianism, in other words (and later developments within African initiated Christianity as well as the development of an African theology), was symbolic of missionary success rather than failure even though it led to the widespread fragmentation of Christianity.
There are, however, two inevitable consequences attached to the success of indigenisation. First of all, it results in new forms and understandings of Christianity. Christianity changes. The Christianity of Europe was not simply that of the primitive church of first century Palestine. Nor is the Christianity that Europeans brought to South Africa the same now as it was with the advent of colonialism and missionary activity. Of course, there are continuities and family resemblances. There is a common allegiance to the gospel of Jesus Christ, despite varieties of interpretation. There is an ecumenical church despite differences and divisions. But something new has also emerged which can no longer be contained in those old wineskins. That was the experience of the Coptic Church which, while strongly affirming its apostolic faith, nevertheless became a church with a distinct cultural and national identity.
Then, second, if those who take the gospel to other cultures are invariably surprised by the new forms into which Christianity is cast, those who accept the gospel discover that the Christian faith changes the character of their culture. Whether for good or ill—and that depends on perspective and the values we hold to—Christianity changed Hellenism as more than Hellenism changed Christianity. And the same has been true down the line whether we refer to Coptic or any culture. Those who argue that Christianity cannot be inculturated within African [End of 38] culture are right if by that they mean that neither will stay the same. For just as Christianity in Egypt became Coptic as well as transformed Coptic culture, so Christianity in Africa has become African but in the process African culture(s) have changed. That process has by no means halted.
Which brings us back to the significance of the Coptic missionary outreach south of the Sahara and even into South Africa. As South Africa re-enters Africa and the Cape becomes linked to Cairo in ways not even dreamt of by Rhodes and Livingstone (Egypt Air has regular flights from Cairo to Cape Town return!), and as Coptic and South African Christians suddenly encounter each other in ways which, until recently, were also beyond ecumenical view, it is difficult not to sense that something of historical importance might be in the making. All of us, I suspect, would be surprised if we were able, a century in the future, to take stock of the state of South African cultures and the place and character of Christianity within them, to say nothing of the rest of Africa. Indeed, I suspect that the revitalisation of Coptic Orthodoxy and its expansion in sub-Saharan Africa might even change the character of this venerable and ancient church. But, on looking back from some future vantagepoint, I would be surprised if Coptic Orthodoxy had not played an increasingly significant role in the shaping of the ecumenical African church of the new millennium.
Notes
1 From February 6-15, 1997, I was privileged to co-lead an ecumenical group of thirty-seven South Africans on a visit to the Coptic Orthodox Church at the kind invitation of Pope Shenouda III. The visit was organised jointly by the Ecumenical Pastoral Institute in Cape Town, led by Dr George Malek, and the Research Institute on Christianity in South Africa (RICSA) at the University of Cape Town. During our brief stay in Eqypt the group spent several days at the Monastery of St Bishoi in the Western Desert (Scete) where we had extended discussions with Pope Shenouda III and several bishops, priests and monks on Coptic tradition and spirituality. We also visited several other monasteries in the vicinity, and Coptic centres in Alexandria and Cairo where we had further discussions with the Pope and other church leaders. [Back to text]
2 The Coptic Orthodox Church broke with the Catholic Church (which then included both the East and Western churches) in 451 CE when it rejected the Chalcedonian definition of faith. Chalcedon affirmed two natures of Christ i.e. “fully God and fully human”, but this for the Coptic representatives seemed to undermine Christ's full divinity. Their own position, that Christ had only one nature (divine) though truly incarnate in a human body, was condemned as a heresy (monophysitism). It is now recognised that the schism which resulted was largely the result of a misunderstanding. Cultural and political factors exacerbated the separation. The Coptic Orthodox Church is part of Oriental Orthodoxy, a family of churches which includes the Syrian, Armenian, Ethiopian, and Indian Orthodox Churches. These currently have close ties with Eastern Orthodoxy but not full communion. See Nicholas Lossky et. al., Dictionary of the Ecumenical Movement (Geneva: World Council of Churches Publications, 1991), 755-59. [Back to text]
3 Coptic (Arabic for 'Egyptian') refers to all Christians in Egypt whether they are members of the Coptic Orthodox Church or not. The other major churches in Egypt are the Roman Catholic, the Greek Orthodox, and the Coptic Evangelical Church (Presbyterian). [Back to text]
4 Iris Habib el Masri, The Story of the Copts: Book One: From the Foundation of the Church to the Arab Conquest (Nairobi: Coptic Bishopric for African Affairs, 1993), 171-75. [Back to text]
5 Adrian Hastings, The Church in Africa: 1450-1950 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994), 67. [Back to text]
6 The Patriarch of Alexandria has traditionally been referred to by Copts as the Pope of the Coptic Orthodox Church and successor to St Mark the Evangelist. Pope Shenouda III, enthroned in 1971, is the 117th Patriarch. A full list of all the Popes together with their dates is given in Habib el Masri, The Story of the Copts: Book One, 429-34. The role of Cyril VI in transforming the Coptic Orthodox Church is described in Habib el Masri, The Story of the Copts: Book One, 372-93. [Back to text]
7 Pope Shenouda III personally leads Bible studies every second Sunday evening in the Cathedral of St Mark in Alexandria, regularly attended by 2,000 people, and every Wednesday evening in the Cathedral of St Mark in Cairo, attended by 7,000 people. His approach to the Bible is conservative and his expositions are reminiscent of Puritan exegesis rather than the allegorical exegesis of ancient Alexandria. It is interesting that the commentaries of the Puritan divine, Matthew Henry, have been translated by Coptic scholars into Arabic. Bible studies on a large scale are also a feature of some parishes as well. [Back to text]
8 The growth in monastic vocations from 1960-1986 has been documented in Otto F. A. Meinardus, Monks and Monasteries of the Egyptian Desert (Cairo: American University Press, 1992), x. In some monasteries, such as St Bishoi, the growth has been exponential, from twelve to 115. Significant growth has continued during the past ten years. [Back to text]
9 The Coptic Orthodox Church was a founding member of the World Council of Churches in 1948, and is presently engaged in bi-lateral dialogue not only with the Eastern Orthodox Churches, but also the Roman Catholic Church and, most recently, the World Alliance of Reformed Churches. The Coptic Orthodox Church is also an influential member of the All African Conference of Churches, and has growing relationships with African initiated churches (AIC's) in various parts of the continent. [Back to text]
10 Copts not only refer to the Flight of the Holy Family in general and symbolic terms, but they claim to be able to plot the journeys of the Holy Family to various parts of Egypt. Invariably miracles occurred en route and the sites are now marked by churches or monasteries. Tadros Y Malaty, Introduction to the Coptic Orthodox Church (Alexandria: St. George's Coptic Orthodox Church, 1993), 12-15. [Back to text]
11 Hastings, The Church in Africa: 1450-1950, 5. [Back to text]
12 Iris Habib el Masri, The Story of the Copts: Book Two: From the Arab Conquest to the Present Time (Nairobi: Coptic Bishopric for African Affairs, 1987), 1-5; Y Malaty, Introduction to the Coptic Orthodox Church, 16-21. [Back to text]
13 Y Malaty, Introduction to the Coptic Orthodox Church, 21. [Back to text]
14 On the veneration with which St Athanasius is regarded within the Coptic tradition see Habib el Masri, The Story of the Copts: Book One, 112-55. His relics are kept in a vault beneath the Cathedral of St Mark in Cairo. [Back to text]
15 The Coptic Orthodox Church affirms the first three Ecumenical Councils, viz. Nicea (325), Constantinople (381), and Ephesus (431). [Back to text]
16 Cheslyn Jones and Geoffrey Wainwright, The Study of Liturgy, ed. Edward Yarnold (London: SPCK, 1978), 198-201. [Back to text]
17 Monophysite (“one nature”) was the label attached to Coptic Christology by its opponents in their affirmation of the “two natures” of Christ. It is, however, not a label which Copts accept; they do not reject the human nature of Christ. Cf. Y Malaty, Introduction to the Coptic Orthodox Church, 60-73. [Back to text]
18 Kenneth Scott Latourette, The First Five Centuries, vol. 1 of A History of the Expansion of Christianity (London: Eyre and Spottiswoode, 1938), 257. [Back to text]
19 Hastings, The Church in Africa, 6-7. [Back to text]
20 On Pachomius see Louis Bouyer, The Spirituality of the New Testament and the Fathers, vol. 1 of A History of Christian Spirituality (London: Burns and Oates, 1968), 321-25. and W. H. C. Frend, The Rise of Christianity (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1984), 576-78. [Back to text]
21 See the introduction to Athanasius, The Life of Anthony and the Letter to Marcellinus, ed. Robert C. Gregg, The Classics of Western Spirituality (New York: Paulist Press, 1980), 6-11. [Back to text]
22 Coptic monasticism was alone in this regard. Monasticism also appeared in Syria and Palestine around the same time as in Egypt. Cf. Bouyer, The Spirituality of the New Testament and the Fathers, 306, 328-30. [Back to text]
23 Athanasius, The Life of Anthony and the Letter to Marcellinus. See the discussion in Bouyer, The Spirituality of the New Testament and the Fathers, 306-17. [Back to text]
24 Jean Gribomont, “Monasticism and Asceticism,” in Christian Spirituality: Origins to the Twelfth Century, ed. Bernard McGinn, John Meyendorff and Jean Leclerq (New York: Crossroad, 1989), 90-91. [Back to text]
25 Meinardus, Monks and monasteries of the Egyptian desert, 4; Aelred Sillem, “St. Benedict,” in Benedict's Disciples, ed. David Hugh Farmer (Leominster: Fowler Wright, 1980), 22. [Back to text]
26 Y Malaty, Introduction to the Coptic Orthodox Church, 24-27. [Back to text]
27 Bouyer, The Spirituality of the New Testament and the Fathers, 306. [Back to text]
28 Gribomont, “Monasticism and Asceticism,” 90; Frend, The Rise of Christianity, 422. [Back to text]
29 Athanasius, The Life of Anthony and the Letter to Marcellinus, 31-32. [Back to text]
30 Frend, The Rise of Christianity, 422-23. [Back to text]
31 This “killed a truly African Church and with it the social, cultural and political aspirations and identity of the Berbers.” Ade Ajayi and E. A. Ayandele, “Writing African Church History,” in The Church Crossing Frontiers: Essays on the Nature of Mission, ed. Peter Beyerhaus and F. Carl Hallencreutz (Upsalla: Gleerup, 1969), 105. [Back to text]
32 Hastings, The Church in Africa: 1450-1950, 8-9. [Back to text]
33 The notion of the “primacy of the Coptic Pope” is not the way in which Copts, to my knowledge, would assert the role of the Patriarch of Alexandria, but it conveys something of the role which he fulfils within Coptic Orthodoxy. Pope Shenouda III is truly a Patriarch in every sense of the word, and his spiritual and moral leadership is unquestioned by the hierarchy and the faithful. [Back to text]
34 Anronius Markos, Come Across and Help Us: The Story of the Coptic Church in Africa at the Present Time (Cairo: Coptic Bishopric for African Affairs, 1996). [Back to text]
35 A second Bishop for African Affairs, Bishop Paul, has been more recently appointed. He has now become a Vice President of the All Africa Conference of Churches. [Back to text]
36 Markos, Come Across and Help us, 144. [Back to text]
37 Quoted from Edward Wilmot Blyden, Black Spokesman - Selected Published Writings of Edward Wilmot Blyden, ed. Hollis R. Lynch (London: Frank Cass, 1971) by Kwame Bediako, Christianity in Africa: The Renewal of a Non-Western Religion (Edinburgh; Maryknoll: Edinburgh University Press; Orbis Books, 1995), 11. [Back to text]
38 Bediako, Christianity in Africa, 11. [Back to text]
39 John W. de Gruchy, Christianity and the Modernisation of South Africa, vol. 2 of Christianity and the Social History of South Africa (Cape Town: David Philip Publishers, 1997). [Back to text]
40 In the KJV this is translated as “Princes shall come out of Egypt”. [Back to text]
41 The biblical metaphor for Africa as a whole rather than Ethiopia as a country in modern terms. [Back to text]
42 Gayraud S. Wilmore, Black Religion and Black Radicalism: An Interpretation of the Religious History of Afro-American People (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1983), 121. and Theophus H. Smith, “The Spirituality of Afro-American Traditions,” in Christian Spirituality: Post Reformation and Modern, ed. Louis Duprea and Don. E. Saliers (London: SCM Press, 1989), 398. [Back to text]
43 Ajayi and Ayandele, “Writing African Church History,” 106. [Back to text]
44 Malaty stresses that the Coptic Church had no desire to flee from Byzantium, nor did it reject the Roman pontiff, but it refused to be subject to imperial power with regard to theological issues and to the imposition by the emperor of a Melkite (i.e. royal) Patriarch on the Coptic people. Y Malaty, Introduction to the Coptic Orthodox Church, 61. [Back to text]
45 Markos, Come Across and Help us, 59. [Back to text]
46 See Charles Villa-Vicencio, Christianity and the Colonisation of South Africa, vol. 1 of Christianity and the Social History of South Africa (Cape Town: David Philip Publishers, 1997). [Back to text]
47 De Gruchy, Christianity and the modernisation of South Africa. [Back to text]
48 Lamin Sanneh, Translating the Message: The Missionary Impact on Culture (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1989), 88-125. [Back to text]
49 Sanneh, Translating the Message, 125. [Back to text]
50 Sanneh, Translating the Message, 51. [Back to text]
51 Sanneh, Translating the Message, 51. [Back to text]
52 Andrew F. Walls, The Missionary Movement in Christian History: Studies in the Transmission of Faith (Maryknoll; Edinburgh: Orbis Books; T. & T. Clark, 1996), 26-42. [Back to text]
53 Elizabeth Isichei, A History of Christianity in Africa: From Antiquity to the Present (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1995), 1. [Back to text]