GREEK CHURCH SERVICE
I was ready for the 40 day celebration of Efi’s mother with my dark sweater on, on a windy day, to look dressed up when Efi called me down the stairs. She drove me and another woman to the church. We got there at 8:30 but the ceremony had already begun. We went in and she signaled me to sit down about half way down on the left side and the went to the other side and did something in front of the picture of her mother and took her place on the right side in the front row beside her daughter Olga and her sister and the rest of her family. From now on for the next 40 minutes women kept arriving for the ceremony. They would walk down the center aisle, genuflect in front of the photo of the mother and lay some unlighted tapered candles in a pile and then walk around the front kissing certain of the small paintings in front of large paintings of biblical figures or saints, each woman kissing different paintings. There were paintings all around the front of the room and up above on the wall. Some women would criss cross the front of the church doing this.
In the mean time the ceremony was going on, conducted by two priests, a young blackbearded one of about 40 and an white bearded one of about 70. Almost all of this ceremony could be seen through a doorway to a second room where there as a crucified Jesus and a table holding holding other objects. At one point they brought out two objects covered with a red cloth. At other points the younger priest would swing a silver pot of incense. One time they even circled the congregation. All of this time the two priests would take turns chanting in a sing songy way. Olga later told me that these were passages from the Bible and that she understood some of what they were saying. It sounded to me like Hindu priests at a wedding or some other ceremony as they pour water, offer offerings and light lamps. This chanting, often one then the other priest, went on for the entire hour of the service. I think at the very end the younger priest mentioned the mother. At the 45 minute mark children came forward accompanied by adults and were offered a sip of something and bread, communion, I guess. And at the very end of the service all of the women, maybe 70 of them came forward and received a quick sip and a piece of bread and then on the way to back, the service apparently over, began conversations with each other so that the church was soon full of their loud conversation.
The family, women, a few men and a few children, sat in the front right. Behind them were a number of women spaced out. Efi had gestured me to go left where there were about ten women spaced out. But by the end of the service the church had filled up and there were fifty women on my side.
I tried to do just what these women around me did. When the priests would come through the doorway everyone would stand and genuflect. But it wasn‘t clear when to sit down again. Sometimes everyone would sit down together and sometimes people would sit down one by one, perhaps as they got tired, since almost everyone there was older. I waited until a few people had sat down and then sat down. During the chanting there were times when everyone bowed and seemed to pray. Also during the chanting there were times when everyone knew to genuflect, often again and again. I just stood there, clueless.
The service was conducted entirely by men. And the chanting and all of the ritual of swinging incense or seeming to bless certain objects seemed to be entirely ritualistic. There was nothing personal in the service at all and the function of the congregation was simply to echo or to join in the ritual.
This was amplified but the bright embroidered robes of gold and blue that the two priests wore, each robe different and by the pictures, photographs of paintings or paintings, all around the walls of the church and certainly in the front of the church. Some of them were heavily inlaid with what appeared to be silver. They seemed to function in a similar way to Hindu images of the gods, although I‘m guessing that no one there would like that comparison.
I, of course, came with USA expectations and was completely out of it. My idea of a celebration of a person‘s life was taken from the funeral of Kathe and my mother. A number of people would come forward and give a little speech saying how wonderful the person was and would tell a funny anecdote or two. I was waiting for that until I realized that all that was going to happen was ritual chanting. I would have to change my mindset completely to be touched by and to really understand the service. But the problem was mine, and for everyone there I am sure the ceremony was very satisfying.
One thing that the audience had in common with the Warren Wilson Presbyterian Church is that almost everyone except family members was white haired. And, like my church, most of the audience was women. In fact on my side of the aisle there must have been fifty women with me being the only man. When I asked Olga and she asked Efi why this was so she laughed and said many of the women were widows and that the husbands who were still living didn‘t feel like coming.
After the service the family walked outside to the cemetery to the grave of Efi‘s mother and the older priest did a brief ceremony. Then we all drove down to the harbor to one of the outdoor cafes facing that harbor where everyone was treated to pastries that Efi had made.
All 70 of us were there. We ordered drinks and sat at tables. Most of the tables had a circle of women who were having a great time talking to each other. The extended family sat at other tables. Efi gestured me to an empty table and then put the old priest there as well, across from me.
He didn‘t speak English, I didn‘t speak Greek. We smiled at each other and munched on our pastries and drank coffee. Each of us had been given a little bag of pastries as we came out of the church. The priest filled his bag up with more pastries to take home, then cadged a cigarette from a woman at a nearby table and smoked contentedly. A number of the women were also smoking. Occasionally someone would stop and talk to the priest. I don‘t think people knew what to do with me, a clueless mute foreigner so I just sat there. I got a few friendly smiles but spent my time looking around and wondering what was going on as I had done all morning. Finally when Efi sat down next to me, I thanked her for a good time and relieved her of responsibility for taking care of me by excusing myself and walking the short distance back to the Airbnb. It was a very, very, very interesting two hours and my most intense purely Greek experience of the trip and an experience I will always remember.
BILLYBABA’S WANDERING 