What's New in Old News?
The official newsletter of the Peripatetic Historian. April 2024, Vol. 3, no. 11.
Welcome to the April issue of What’s New in Old News.
In this Issue:
Peripatetic Field Report: A Jordanian Ramadan
Book News
A New Article
Then and Now
Let’s get started…
Peripatetic Field Report: A Jordanian Ramadan
This issue of What’s New in Old News bisects one of Islam’s most important religious holidays: Ramadan. Ramadan is the ninth month of the Islamic calendar, the month in which Mohammed received his first revelation, an event commemorated by thirty days of fasting, reflection, and mortification.
Ramadan began on March 11 in Jordan.
The national qualification is essential: March 11 in Jordan, but a day earlier on the Palestinian side of the Jordan river. I cannot account for this variation. According to my research, the holiday officially starts when the crescent moon that marks the first day of the ninth month is seen in Mecca. It ends when the moon travels through its entire lunar cycle and again floats as a thin crescent above the holy city.
Here’s the part I don’t understand: modern astronomers know with absolute certainty when the crescent moon will appear in the sky. Despite this established knowledge, there is always doubt in this part of the world about when the holiday begins and ends.
The smart money was on a March 10 start date this year. Yet, as evening arrived, word flashed around Irbid that Ramadan had not begun. Evidently those who make these determinations failed to see their shadows wavering in the dim lunar light.
Jordan delayed the celebration for twenty-four hours; Palestine showed its independence by starting Ramadan on March 10. There must be an explanation for this discrepancy but it continues to elude my limited understanding.
The Drum, the Drum
The first morning of Jordanian Ramadan, when it finally arrived, began at 2:41 a.m. A man in possession of both a drum and a shrill voice shook me out of a sound sleep. He walked slowly down out street, beating his instrument as if he was trying to drive demons from it. Nessun dorma—let no one, neither Muslim nor infidel, sleep.
During Ramadan, Muslims don’t eat or drink during the daylight hours. Families rise before dawn for suhoor, the meal that carries them through the day. Our drummer has taken it upon himself to ensure that no one misses their predawn breakfast.
While I understood the theory behind his percussive presence, the application left me baffled.
Why so early? In late March the sun doesn’t rise until after 6:00. The drummer is blasting people awake four hours before first light. Even slow eaters wouldn’t require that much time to prepare and consume breakfast. A 4:30 drum call would have been more than adequate.
Please Tip Your Drummer…
Since Ramadan began, I have been living with a growing sleep deficit. Every morning our drummer swings through our neighborhood—usually twice—between 2:30 and 3:00. I can hear him coming blocks away. Like a rat in a Skinner box, I have become conditioned to snapping awake minutes before he arrives. I fume in the darkness, waiting for the pounding to begin.
This daily wake-up call—amusing at first—has taxed my normal high spirits and chipper demeanor. In an age of mobile phones and alarm clocks, I find this tradition both annoying and unnecessary.
Moreover, it is a bit of a scam.
In the opening days of Ramadan, he pounded his drum continuously as he strolled through the streets. As the end of the holiday approaches, the pattern has altered. There are now silent intervals when he walks without touching his drum. These are interrupted by sudden crescendos—most notably in the street outside my window.
Evidently a generous tip will win a respite from the morning cacophony. This explains the musical rests on the neighborhood staff: people along the street have purchased his silence. Unfortunately, no one in my building has paid the protection money, so we continue to suffer his attentions.
I cannot wait for this holiday to end.
Book News
Off to the Printer
Midway through March I received news that L. A. Birdmen had been dispatched to the printers. I don’t know how long it takes to print a press run of a book, but it is certainly conceivable that boxes, each containing twenty copies of the book, are stacking up in a warehouse. Won’t be long before they hit the stores.
Like a Lamb to the Slaughter
Like a Lamb to the Slaughter
The guide was suspicious. Johann Burckhardt, although disguised as a Bedouin and speaking perfect Arabic, was unable to control his excitement as he followed his host through the ruins of the lost city of Petra.
He had won this visit by convincing the man he wanted to travel to tomb of Aaron, brother of Moses, in order to sacrifice a goat. Yet, as the pair passed through Petra on the way to the holy mountain, Burckhardt’s attempt to feign disinterest in the ruins of the great dead city proved unconvincing.
The local villagers were fanatically protective of the archaeological marvels concealed in the winding canyons below their village. No European had visited the city since the Crusades. Finally his guide challenged him:
“I see now clearly you are an infidel who has some particular business among the ruins of the city of your forefathers; but depend upon it that we will not suffer you to take a single para of all the treasures hidden therein, for they are in our territory and belong to us.”
The explorer’s life hung on his reply; the guide’s sharp dagger would guarantee the unbeliever’s silence…
Then and Now
Whitby Abbey, England
Many years ago, while I was teaching in the UK, I conceived the idea of writing a book about the early history of British Christianity. I spent a few delightful weeks on the road, traveling to places that hosted scenes from that particular story. High on the list was Whitby Abbey, located on England’s east coast.
In 595, Pope Gregory sent an ecclesiastical emissary—Augustine of Canterbury—to England to evangelize and spread Roman Christianity. In the interregnum between the fall of the Western Roman Empire and Augustine’s mission, Christianity had withered in the face of the Anglo-Saxon invasion. The ashes of the dead faith were stirred back to life when Irish monks launched a missionary outreach from the island of Iona. By the end of the sixth century, much of the north had been won over to an Irish form of Christianity.
Augustine’s arrival sparked an ecclesiastical struggle between the Roman priests and the Irish monks. Their primary disagreement concerned the proper way to calculate the annual date of Easter. Much like the beginning of Ramadan, considerable variation existed among the western churches. The bigger issue, lurking like 7/10 of an iceberg, was the question of whether the church in Rome had the authority to impose its will and practices on churches outside the Italian peninsula.
At the Synod of Whitby, convened in 664, King Osiwiu listened to clerics representing both camps and decided to adopt the Roman practices for his Northumbrian churches. It was a great victory for those loyal to the pope, a decision that undercut the authority of the Irish monks.
Although King Osiwiu established a convent at Whitby seven years before the synod, the “modern” Abbey wasn’t built until the thirteenth century. It was an important Benedictine monastery that flourished until King Henry expelled the monks (Dissolution of the Monasteries) in the mid-sixteenth century. The abbey deteriorated and became a stone quarry for local building projects.
Today, as in the early twentieth century, the Abbey is only a shell of its former glory.
An odd fact: According to the English Heritage web site, Whitby Abbey was an inspiration for Bram Stoker’s Dracula. To commemorate this influence, 1,369 people—wearing black capes and sporting plastic fangs—gathered at the abbey on May 26, 2022 (125 years after the novel was published). This conclave set a new record for “Largest Gathering of People Dressed as Vampires.”
April means Ramadan is nearly Rama-done. That will bring a welcome return to normalcy in Jordan: no more drummers and the Schwarma shops will open for lunch. It also means that Mary only has 2.5 months left on her contract and, as of this writing, we do not know where we will land next.
Of course the Peripatetic mission statement calls for forward motion. I don’t like to tarry in one place for too long. We’ve spent nearly two years in the Middle East. It has been remarkable, stressful, heartbreaking, and fascinating—in near equal measure. But now the time has come to peripateticate. We know the when, but the “where” remains an open question. Stay tuned to learn where we land next.
Until then, be safe, be sensible,
One more week, Richard. Although, as the Jordanian start is in the stars of some dude in Amman, the end is also in his control. The last day, from what I've heard, will be Tuesday or Wednesday—April 9th or 10th. Let the drum roll begin . . .