Category Archives: Blog

Let not the waves of the sea separate us now, and the years you have spent in our midst become a memory.
You have walked among us a spirit, and your shadow has been a light upon our faces.
Much have we loved you. But speechless was our love, and with veils has it been veiled.
Yet now it cries aloud unto you, and would stand revealed before you.
And ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation…

— Khalil Gibran

Now as we keep our watch and wait the final day,
count no man happy till he dies, free of pain at last.

– Chorus, Oedipus Rex

Not many people realize just how many ancient amphitheatres are scattered throughout the Middle East, yet the performance of ancient drama goes back millennia in this region. As a playwright and archaeologist, I’ve been trying for the past several years to visit as many of these ancient amphitheatres as I can…

The theatres pictured in these photographs are all found in Turkey–and they’re all worth seeing. The photo at the top of this post was taken at Pergamon in what is considered to the steepest ancient amphitheatre in Turkey (and perhaps the world?). In fact, some of my fellow travelers found the steep incline was too dangerous to go explore the seats of the theatre–and its picturesque view…

The second photo was taken at the Roman amphitheater of Hierapolis (which has 12,000-seats!), and it’s not to be missed if you’re visiting the stunning “cotton” hot springs of Pamukkale.

The photo to the left was taken at Ephesus–where rioters long ago protested against Paul and Christianity–screaming, “Great is Artemis of the Ephesians!” (Acts 19:21-40). Every time I’m passing through that theatre, I can’t help but also think of all the drama that unfolded at the Council of Ephesus…

Whenever I bring travelers to see the ruins at Myra–where St. Nicolas (i.e. Santa–who came from Turkey) lived in the 4th century CE–we also visit the amphitheater at Myra (left)–which was the largest amphitheater in Lycia.

The last two photos were taken in the spectacular amphitheater of Aspendos, where there’s an Opera and Ballet Festival held every year. As you can see, the upper gallery of the amphitheater is almost completely intact, as is the wall behind the stage–which is why many consider it the best-preserved theatre from antiquity.

What I love about these amphitheatres–among many things–is how they are shaped by the landscape, and how they themselves transform the landscape.

Passionate about both archaeology and theatre, I always feel right at home whenever I gaze at the stage from the steep stairs of these amphitheatres, and take a seat–imagining the tragic dramas performed in the ancient Mid-East…

Just send me home. You bear your burdens,
I’ll bear mine. It’s better that way,
please believe me.

-– Tiresias, Oedipus Rex

The truth is what I cherish, and that’s my strength.

— Tiresias, in Oedipus Rex

Yesterday in Beirut, my students and I staged several scenes from the play Oedipus Rex under the palms outdoors. As the call to prayer was emanating from the minarets of the mosque down the street, my students began to perform–with surprising pathos–tragic scenes from this gripping Greek drama.

Our exploration of Greek drama has forced us to contemplate a number of big questions, such as: is life inherently tragic, since we all must die? Or is life inherently comedic, since we must die–yet we spend much of our precious time ruled by our egos, trying desperately to show ourselves and the world just how important we are. Trying, in vain, to be a “somebody” instead of a “nobody” (Facebook, anyone?). Above all, we had to ask ourselves–what is Sophocles trying to show us about our own blindness to truth?

So, you mock my blindness? Let me tell you this.
You with your precious eyes, you’re blind to the corruption of your life,
to the house you live in,
those you live with-who are your parents? Do you know?

— Tiresias, in Oedipus Rex

The brain says,
“I am a ruler;
The world is in those who rule.”‘

The sea remains slumbering saying,
in its sleep,
“All is mine.”

— Khalil Gibran

Earlier today, I saw waves that were 8 feet tall–when they crashed against the rocks, they splashed on to the walkway above the beach. No one dared swim, and I didn’t see anyone else even on the beach. At sunset, the sea was a bit more calm, but–as you can see–some powerful waves were still rolling in…

It was but yesterday I thought myself a fragment quivering without rhythm in the sphere of life.
Now I know that I am the sphere, and all life in rhythmic fragments moves within me.

They say to me in their awakening, “You and the world you live in are but a grain of sand
upon the infinite shore of an infinite sea.”
And in my dream I say to them,
“I am the infinite sea, and all worlds
are but grains of sand upon my shore.”

— Khalil Gibran

After I wrote “Sharing the Sufis of Syria,” I wanted to write some more articles on this topic–but was hoping other outlets would pick up the story (since I’m swamped trying to meet some academic deadlines for publications on Sufism). Thankfully, others are now writing about this subject–here’s a new piece called “Syrian Sufis Divided as Salafist Influence Grows.”

Trees are poems the earth writes upon the sky,
We fell them down and turn them into paper,
That we may record our emptiness…

— Khalil Gibran

Since writing my piece “Sharing the Sufis of Syria,” I’ve been doing more research on the intersections of Rumi and Damascus. Today, I came across this passage from the Masnavi:

When grief befalls us, rise to it with love (‘ishq):
We must climb to the top of Rabwe (with Maryam),
in order to gaze upon Damascus.

— Rumi

When I was passing by these Syrian refugee children today, they asked if they could use my ipad again to go take photos around the neighborhood. But first, they wanted me to take a photo of all three of them to see themselves appear on the screen of the ipad. As they began to talk about Damascus, they smiled and gave two enthusiastic thumbs up. It was clear they were missing home…

In New York this week and last, UN Secretary General Ban Ki-moon has been meeting with the International Support Group for Lebanon and Najib Mikati, caretaker Prime Minister of the Republic of Lebanon, to address the humanitarian, economic, and security challenges related to the influx of Syrian refugees to Lebanon. Just today, several rockets from Syria hit Lebanon. Until there is some sort of solution to the conflict, Syrian refugees in Lebanon will continue adapting the best that they can…

I took this photo the other night when I was getting groceries in downtown Beirut. This is the Grand Omari Mosque, which has a fascinating and complex history. In fact, it was once the Crusader Cathedral of St. John (1113 – 1115 C.E.). If you look closely, you can see bullet holes from the civil war still scarring the mosque’s outer walls…

I took a sip and saw the vast ocean–
Wave upon wave caressed my soul.
The lovers of God dance around,
And the circle of their steps
becomes a ring of fire round my neck.

— Rumi

As you can see, the waves were crashing against the rocks and docks all day in Beirut…even got soaked when trying to take these photos…

I was going to tell you my story, but waves of pain drowned my voice.
I tried to utter a word, but my thoughts
became fragile and shattered like glass.
Even the largest ship can capsize in the stormy sea of love,
let alone my feeble boat which shattered to pieces,
leaving me nothing but a strip of wood to hold on to.

— Rumi

Poseidon was rowdy today in Beirut–the waves crashed all the way into the kid’s pool.  So the beach was open for sunbathing, but not for swimming. Still, I stayed a bit to watch the waves ride in with all their fury…

My heart is pulsing with passion
like waves on an ocean.

My friends have become strangers,
and I’m surrounded by enemies.
But I’m free as the wind–
no longer hurt by those who reproach me.

— Rumi