by
Jonathan Partee*
It is 5:30am, and the insistent beeping of the alarm clock cuts through the
dimness of the room. Today is “Mary’s Day,” so the incessant, amplified
crooning of the Ethiopian Orthodox priests and the repeated ringing of the
church bell has made our sleep fitful since about tam. I crawl out of bed
into the frigid room, shivering as I struggle into my icy nylon running
suit. A few minutes later, I emerge on the street and break into a jog.
Christianity came to Ethiopia in the 4th century when two Syrian Christians,
Frumentius and Aedissius, were marooned by a shipwreck on the coast of
modern-day Eritrea. They found their way to the court of Ezana and
eventually converted the royal household. In the 6th century, Islam swept
across North Africa and destroyed the church in Egypt and Sudan and isolated
Ethiopia from the rest of Christendom. Surrounded by enemies, the Orthodox
church withdrew into itself. Concerned only for survival, it left
non-Christian people within a three day’s walk of Addis Ababa untouched by
the gospel message.
I turn north, uphill, from our apartment. Our nearest neighbor is the
Patriarch, Abuna Petros, the leader of the Ethiopian Orthodox church. He
lives in a three story, rose colored, marble palace just to the south of a
Mariam Church, named for Mary, the mother of Jesus. As I trudge past his
house, I see hundreds of beggars, sitting on frayed burlap mats with their
candles flickering eerily in the morning darkness. Their hooded faces
reflect their despair and their pitiful cries pierce directly to the heart.
Many of the beggars have thin, twisted, useless legs but not enough money to
afford a wheelchair. Therefore, they propel themselves across the cold
concrete on U-shaped pieces of wood looking like awkward gymnasts on
stationary horses. One of the most disheartening things about living in the
third world is finding yourself growing accustomed to observing poverty and
disease. In America we do not encounter such terrible need over and over and
over each day. At home I can jog for hours without seeing a beggar or having
a chorus of “b’Mariam” cries follow my every move.
In many religions, one earns God’s approval by contributing to the poor. In
Islam, almsgiving is one of the six pillars, or ways to earn your way to
heaven. In Hinduism, one gains “karma” by doing good deeds. In Orthodox
Christianity, a few cents thrown on a beggar’s mat earns God’s favor. In
Evangelical Christianity, we know that even our best attempts to do good and
earn our salvation are doomed to failure, but we already have eternal life
through belief in Christ Jesus; therefore, we do what is good as a response
to the undeserved and unearned love God has already given us.
Turning off the main street, I plunge into deep, dark, gloom. The
streetlights lean askance, their empty sockets trailing a few, bare,
straggly wires. Raw sewage runs across the asphalt, making the footing as
slippery and treacherous as after a freezing rain. Even at this hour in the
morning, I see many Ethiopians, wearing their traditional white cotton
gabis, abruptly appear, ghostlike, out of the darkness. Many are dressed in
their best finery and are going to pay their respects to St. Mary.
Mary plays a key role in Ethiopian Orthodox theology. Each month, there is a
special day to play homage to her, and a memorial on the day she is said to
have died. Every Ethiopian cross has a small piece of material draped on it;
for legend claims that the Archangel Gabriel grabbed Mary’s headscarf on her
way to heaven. Contrary to what is written in Romans 8:34, Ethiopian
Orthodox pray to Mary to intercede on their behalf.
I soon find myself jogging through Piassa, a business district of Addis.
Lying on the sidewalk in front of the stores are large, corrugated iron
boxes, roughly the length of a coffin. Sleeping inside, the store guards
keep the store’s merchandise safe from nocturnal prowlers. Also lying on the
sidewalk are innumerable, large, brown, mounds of plastic and burlap. I pick
my way carefully through them, as occasionally one of the mounds groans and
heaves, revealing the sleeping human underneath. I ponder the unfairness of
the situation: I run because otherwise I will gain weight from the food that
I eat; they will get their dinner from the dumpster.
Dawn has broken but the sun has not appeared in the sky and frigid Addis has
taken on a gray hue. As I approach our apartment building, I am slowed to a
walk by the density of the crowd. They push and jostle, trying to get near
the church. All of them wish to present a request to St. Mary. None of them
know that they have the opportunity to present their request directly to
God.
Just as the rising sun will soon illuminate and warm all of Addis Ababa, the
Ethiopian Evangelical Christian church is spreading and growing. Please pray
that the Kale Heywet, Mekane Yesus and other Evangelical churches will
continue to grow and that the Son will warm the lives of the uncountable
millions in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, and all of East Africa who do not yet
know Jesus Christ as their Lord.
In Christ’s service,
Jonathan and Sara Partee
jonathan.partee@bigfoot.com
www.bigfoot.com/-partee
326 Parkside Ave.
Pittsburgh, PA 15228
(412)563-1782
*Jonathan and Sara Partee have just recently returned from a term of mission
work in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Jonathan is the son of Charles Partee,
professor of Church History at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary, and grandson
of W. Don McClure, a missionary-statesman who was martyred as he served
Christ in the Sudan and Ethiopia.
Jonathan’s unique gift for regularly sharing his and Sara’s work with their
supporters is aptly shown in this last communication before returning home
to live in Pittsburgh.