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JERUSALEM — As Orthodox Christians descend on Jerusalem this Easter week to visit their religion’s holiest sites, the holiday’s more mundane concerns: Will rival monks keep the peace this year or engage in conflict?
In a centuries-long conflict, Egyptian Coptic monks and Ethiopian Orthodox monks have competed for control of a small monastery located on the roof of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, built on the site where Christians believe Christ was crucified, entombed and resurrected.
Despite the sacred location of the monastery, it has become the site of small disputes that occur on a near-annual basis, and sometimes boil over into violence.
“When I first came to Jerusalem, I was shocked,” said Markos Alorshalemy, an Egyptian monk. “I expected to see a holy land, where everyone lived in peace and light. Instead, I found a place where everyone was fighting, even inside the holiest church.”
On the night of Palm Sunday in 1757, Greek Orthodox adherents attacked Franciscan Catholics inside the church “with clubs, maces, hooks, poniards and swords,” historian Simon Sebag Montefiore, citing contemporary accounts, wrote in his book, “Jerusalem: A Biography.”
In 2008, there were violent clashes between Greek and Armenian Orthodox clergy on the procession route, which led to arrests.
Last year, at least, hostility was mostly limited to nocturnal graffiti.
On the night of Palm Sunday in 2022, at night when his rivals were sleeping, an Egyptian Coptic monk secretly painted a large Egyptian flag on the entrance to a courtyard believed to be illegally occupied by Ethiopian monks.
“We called the police once, twice, three times, but they didn’t do anything,” said the Egyptian monk, Theophilus Alorshalemy, in an interview, explaining the protest action. “So we decided to deal with it ourselves.”
The Old City of Jerusalem, holy to Christianity, Islam and Judaism, was occupied by Israel during the 1967 Arab-Israeli war and later annexed, a move not recognized by much of the world. But the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is only the latest battle over ownership and land in a city that has been invaded and occupied many times in its history.
Rival Christian sects have been jostling for control of the faith’s holy site in Jerusalem for nearly two millennia, and the sprawling Church of the Holy Sepulchre is at the heart of this contest.
Just this week, Orthodox Christians protested police restrictions on the number of worshipers who could attend crowded “Holy Fire” services in the cramped church on Saturdays. Orthodox Christian leaders say this is a ban on worship; the police said it was to prevent a stampede.
Six Christian denominations try to show control over the church, which is really a tangled knot of several chapels, monasteries and temples, a complex and sometimes chaotic arrangement that has contributed to the occasional bloodshed.
Many of the main issues at the holy site were resolved by a 19th-century Ottoman decree, known as the Status Quo, which still exists today and requires no changes to the Holy Sepulcher, no matter how. minutes, without consensus.
But the conflict between Ethiopia and Egypt over the small monastery above the church remains active and heated – and can be set off by something as small as the placement of a chair.
In 2002, several monks were hospitalized in a fistfight that followed an Egyptian monk moving his chair into the shade of a nearby tree, according to news reports at the time. In 2018, tensions rose again over the renovation of the ceiling, leading the police to arrest an Egyptian monk.
The contested monastery is in one of the lowest parts of the complex, reached by a slippery and dingy staircase. At the top of the stairs is a small church where Ethiopians worship every day. Next to it is a small courtyard with walls lined with green wooden doors, behind which about 20 Ethiopian monks and nuns live in several small rooms.
When Ethiopian monks awoke last Easter to find an Egyptian flag painted across their courtyard door, they were miffed but not surprised.
The day before, they had erected a tent with a large Ethiopian flag in the middle of the contested courtyard – as they have done every Easter for the past few years – to accommodate the Ethiopian pilgrims.
The Egyptians, disturbed by what they thought was a political statement, called the police to destroy the tents, but to no avail. Worried, Father Theophilus and his friends decided to return the provocation.
It was only after the graffiti incident that the Israeli police intervened, and in the morning, the two flags were gone.
The origins of this conflict are difficult to trace, and the legitimacy of competing claims difficult to assess. Both sides believe the monastery is theirs.
“They took over our monastery, and we came to take it back,” said Gabra Yihun, an Ethiopian monk who has lived in Jerusalem for 33 years.
Father Markos, an Egyptian monk, argued: “We don’t want him to leave – we just want him to acknowledge that this monastery is his.”
The contested area is known as Deir al-Sultan, or the Sultan’s Monastery, which first appeared in historical records in the 7th century, without mentioning who owned the site, said Stéphane Ancel, a French historian who documented the history. Ethiopian community in Jerusalem.
“As historians, we cannot find documents that prove the public’s opinion,” Mr. Ancel said.
Once large and prosperous, the Ethiopian community in Jerusalem began to decline in the latter half of the 17th century, as disease and poverty caused them to lose much of their property and privileges in the holy land, according to Mr. Ancel.
The few remaining Ethiopian monks took refuge on Egyptian Coptic Church property. The Egyptians accommodated them in small rooms on the terrace of Deir al-Sultan, and the Ethiopians were already there.
At first, the two communities got along, but when the Egyptians realized that the Ethiopians were not temporary guests, tensions slowly began to emerge between the two communities, and began to flare up regularly around the 19th century, Mr. Ancel said.
After a violent clash in 1893, when the Ethiopians claimed the Egyptians were locked inside the monastery, the Ottoman authorities, in a rare compromise, gave the Ethiopians a second entrance to the monastery: the same green door Father Theophilus painted last Easter.
After the Ottomans, it was the turn of the British and then the Israeli authorities – as well as the Egyptian and Ethiopian governments – tried to mediate, but all efforts failed.
At Easter 1970, the Ethiopians took advantage of Egypt’s brief absence and exchanged the keys to the monastery. When the Egyptians found out, they rushed back, but Israeli security forces blocked their entry, Father Markos said.
The Egyptians immediately filed a lawsuit with Israel’s Supreme Court, which in 1971 ruled against the Egyptians based on documents proving the church’s ownership of the monastery. Although the keys were returned to the Egyptians, the judgment was never fully implemented and the Ethiopians remained.
Most of the time, when everything is calm, the neighbors barely interact beyond a nod and a greeting.
“At the end of the day, we are Fathers in Christ,” said Father Theophilus.
In the evening, Father Theophilus walked through the green door to Deir al-Sultan and exchanged polite nods with an older Ethiopian monk who was worshiping in the corner.
For a moment, it’s easy to forget that they’re competing.
But then Father Theophilus glanced at the old carvings on the wall inside the chapel, where Ethiopian monks celebrate Mass every day.
He couldn’t resist showing his Egyptian roots.
“It’s traditional Coptic style, you know?”
Patrick Kingsley contribute reports.
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