On the west bank of the river Nile, about 80Km from Luxor, the indescript town of Nag Hammadi has exerted such significant influence on Gnostic Christianity its impact is hard to exaggerate. In December 1945 two peasant brothers, digging for fertilizer in limestone caves, dug up a dozen leather-bound codices containing 52 ancient Gnostic manuscripts. They included the Gospel of Thomas and the Secret Book of John. Despite the peasants’ mother having burnt a few books out of superstition, the discovery shed light on ancient esoteric beliefs that were later suppressed and forgotten. These writings were considered a dangerous challenge that merited death to their readers, though today are readily available online. In January 2010, as the shadows lengthened across the Cathedral walls, death visited Nag Hammadi in a massacre that was a vicious outbreak of anti-Christian violence and a harbinger of worst to come.
For me, Nag Hammadi is associated with its literary treasure, however for Egyptian refugees recently arrived in HK, their hometown holds nothing but memories of horrifying persecution. For the past fourteen centuries, Coptic Christians haven’t enjoyed peace, but have been targets of hate crimes bordering on genocide. The ferocity unleashed is only explained by an intent to exterminate this community that is rapidly losing its future to savage and senseless slaughter. A refugee saw his neighbour, a high school teacher, being tied up with ropes and dragged out of his apartment … through a fifth floor window. Somehow I suppressed tears hearing these awful accounts. Nevertheless I was unsettled by noticing a small blue cross tattooed on everyone’s wrist, even those of children. These crosses aren’t eccentric decorations, but graphic reminders to prepare for martyrdom, rather than succumb to panicked apostasy under attack.
In Hong Kong, some drag their feet to Sunday church, some question the role of religion in our comfortable, self-important society. Little do we appreciate that Baptisms of Blood are more common today across the globe, than in apostolic times. While few have the means to seek asylum abroad, persecuted Christians worship with a courage, resoluteness and dignity befitting their faith. When they aren’t blown-up in church or gunned-down leaving, they risk being followed home and marked as soft targets for nighttime rage. As renewal movements sweep through our pews, let’s draw strength from these brave witnesses who stand by their beloved Christ till the end, always praying for greater religious tolerance. Many hearts have stopped beating, however, their shining example inspires us to drink deeply from the cup of a Faith forged on the anvils of persecution for the benefit of every Sunday congregation.
This is the Nag Hammadi “Prayer of Thanksgiving”: We give thanks to You! Every soul and heart is lifted up to You, undisturbed name, honored with the name God and praised with the name Father. To everyone and everything comes the fatherly kindness, affection, love, and any teaching there may be that is sweet and plain. You give us mind, speech and knowledge. Mind, so that we may understand You. Speech, so that we may proclaim You. Knowledge, so that we may know You. We rejoice, having been illuminated by Your knowledge. We rejoice because You have shown us Yourself. We rejoice because while we were in our body, You have made us divine through Your knowledge.
