Bet Maryam

Incense drifts across a sunken courtyard cut deep into red rock. Somewhere a drum beats slowly, and pilgrims in white file past a pool of still green water. At the center stands Bet Maryam, the House of Mary. Of all the rock-hewn churches of Lalibela, this is the one that pilgrims seem to love the most.

The church is dedicated to the Virgin Mary, and that matters greatly here. In Lalibelan Orthodox faith, Mary holds a place of deep honor, celebrated in dozens of feasts through the year. A church that carries her name draws special devotion, and you can feel that devotion in the worn thresholds and the polished floor.

Tradition says Bet Maryam was the first church carved at Lalibela, and possibly the king's own favorite. Like the rest of the complex, it is attributed to King Lalibela of the Zagwe dynasty, who reigned around the year 1200. Workers cut straight down into the mountain, freed a block of stone, and carved this church from it, inside and out.

Take a moment in the courtyard before you enter. Bet Maryam does not stand alone. Two smaller churches, Bet Meskel and Bet Danaghel, open onto the same court, carved into its walls. Narrow passages and trenches connect this space to the great Church of the Saviour of the World next door. The whole northern group works as one linked sanctuary.

Now look at the pool. It sits in the courtyard, deep and green, fed by rain and spring water. Local belief holds that its water can help women who wish to have children. At certain festivals, women are lowered into the pool for blessing. That is belief rather than history, but it has been part of this courtyard's life for generations.

Walk around the outside of the church. Carved porches shelter the doorways on three sides, a feature the other churches here mostly lack. Study the windows as you go. Their openings are cut in many different cross forms, one design after another, as if the carvers were showing every pattern they knew.

Step inside and let your eyes adjust. Then look up. Bet Maryam is the only church at Lalibela with early painted decoration, and traces of it still survive on the ceiling, the arches, and the capitals. You can make out geometric patterns, birds, and animals in faded reds and ochres. These paintings are old, fragile, and quietly beautiful.

In the nave stands a pillar that you will not see, because it is wrapped in cloth. Priests keep it veiled at all times. Tradition says that Christ touched this column, and that written on it are the past and the future of the world. Only priests may look upon it. Whether you take that as mystery or as metaphor, the covered pillar gives the room a certain weight.

The church also has an upper level, a rare feature in rock-cut building. Its craftsmen carved window frames, cornices, and capitals with unusual care, which is one reason scholars think it came early in the sequence, when ambition and resources ran high. Every detail you see was cut from the same single block, with nothing added.

Time your visit with the calendar if you can. On feast days of Mary, this courtyard fills with pilgrims, priests under bright ceremonial umbrellas, and the sound of sistrums and drums. Services often begin before dawn. Even on a quiet weekday, worshippers stop to kiss the doorway and press their foreheads to the stone.

Above the courtyard, a large modern shelter on steel masts spans the sky. The volcanic rock of Lalibela is soft, and centuries of rain have worn it. The canopy protects Bet Maryam and its neighbors while conservators work out how best to preserve them. Look past the steel, and the medieval scene below it is unchanged.

Before you leave, stand at the edge of the courtyard and take in the whole picture. A church of Mary, a pool of hopeful water, painted birds overhead, and a pillar too holy to see. People have prayed here, in this exact pit of carved stone, for around eight hundred years. For a moment, you are simply one more visitor among them.