On Being an Abouna, in Public

“You shall also make a plate of pure gold 
and engrave on it, like the engraving of a signet:
HOLINESS TO THE LORD. 
And you shall put it on a blue cord, 
that it may be on the turban; 
it shall be on the front of the turban.
So it shall be on Aaron’s forehead..." 
Exodus 28:36-38a

The funny thing about being Abouna is anyone on the street can come up to you and say, "Hi Abouna!" In the distinctive robe and 3ema*, it's pretty hard to blend in. A person doesn't have to be from your church to recognize you. They don't have to be from Egypt or even be a Christian. If they've ever met an Abouna in their life, they will know you right away.

If a person is in a random foreign country and sees an Abouna across the street, he can just run over and say, "Hi! Where's your church, Abouna? I'm from such-and-such place." Actually, I've done that before. When Fr. Paul Girguis first joined St. Mark, D.C., a special event I followed carefully via the Internet, I saw him heading to check-in at Dulles International Airport. I did my power walk over and said, "Hi Abouna!" and then stood there awkwardly because poor thing he probably thought I was someone in his new congregation (which I wasn't at all) and, really, what does one say next? I still think it's an adorable thing to do :).

It happened twice to my Abouna recently. At an out-of-town graduation ceremony, three separate groups approached Abouna to say hi. The first was a young man from the local congregation who asked my Abouna where he served. The second was a Palestinian family. The third was an Ethiopian family who stopped their car in the parking lot to excitedly say hello.

Of course, the robe and the 3ema can have the opposite effect. As much as they mark you as beloved to those who understand, they mark you as a stranger to those who don't. We recently walked into a restaurant and, as usual, all eyes turned to the bearded man in black standing in the doorway.

My husband is an expert at dealing with being the "werido in the beardo," flashing his epic smiles right and left, disarming those who would see an enemy, pouring love on any embers of fear or hate. And it works. I can't go to the dentist, for example, without the hygienist spending the entire time talking about how wonderful my husband is and how blessed I am to have him (while I uh-huh through her fingers).

*Coptic priest's "hat"