Christ is Risen!
It is now a week after Pascha, or Easter according to the Julian calendar which most of the Orthodox Churches follow. It is two weeks after Easter for those who celebrate according to the Gregorian calendar.
It seems late to post a reflection on Pascha. The feast has come and gone, though in the Orthodox tradition, at least, we will continue to sing Christ is Risen until Ascension, forty days later. Today is Thomas Sunday, when the Church commemorates the Apostle Thomas coming to belief, after having a chance to see for himself Jesus Christ resurrected. It seems fitting so soon after the Feast of Feasts that we, with our short attention spans and worries, are reminded again of the resurrection and of the often intertwined realities of faith and doubt.
I initially drafted this post on Pascha afternoon, before my wife, Elim, and I headed out to a party at Elim’s godmother’s house. I have been meaning to revise and post all week, but it has been busy, so here I am, a week later. Perhaps that is fitting too, given the reflections here.
In the couple of weeks leading up to Pascha, I read the book Greece’s Dostoevsky: The Theological Vision of Alexandros Papadiamandis (now retitled Lessons from a Greek Island), by Anestis Keselopoulos (Protecting Veil, 2011). Writing in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, Papadiamantis was a popular Greek journalist and fiction writer, as well as a pious Orthodox Christian who was spiritually formed on the island of Skiathos, where he grew up. As an adult living in Athens, many of his stories drew upon his childhood on Skiathos, and of the spiritual life of the farmers, fisherfolk, sheep herders, and towns people. Despite writing about such a different time and place, I was pleasantly surprised how familiar the liturgical life is that Papadiamantis describes. The order of services and the hymns have not changed much in over a hundred years.
I am also struck, having also read three of his paschal short stories, by the all-too-human situations that Papadiamantis describes. In “A Village Easter” (which you can read here), the priest, Father Kyriakos, is beset by financial worries and literally runs out of the country chapel mid-liturgy to confront his fellow priest at the church in town because he believes that his fellow priest is taking more than his fair share of the offering. Besides the specific problem of a congregation suddenly bereft of a priest and the Easter liturgy, the story also underlines the problem of clergy not being adequately paid for their work.
In “Easter Chanter,” the chanter who has promised to come finally arrives near the end of the service. His tardiness is largely his own fault because he did not leave home when he should have. The priest is frustrated and tempted to cancel the liturgy altogether, and in the end has to improvise with his illiterate and unchurched parishioners. The story then ends with a man sneaking meat from the lamb while it is roasting, and being slyly punished in retaliation by the man in charge of the roast who should have been paying more attention.
In the most tragic story, “Without a Wedding Crown,” the disgraced Christina, trapped for years in a manipulative relationship with a man who repeatedly promises marriage and never follows through, longs to attend the Holy Week and Paschal services but is too ashamed to show her face to the other, more respectable women. Instead, Christina finally leaves home to attend paschal vespers, which is a chaotic service full of servants and nannies enjoying their afternoon off. There is also an unflattering description of the churchwarden, who in trying to shush crying babies causes an even greater disturbance.
Yet despite these conflicts and anxieties, the joy of the resurrection does poke through. Father Kyriakos comes to his senses and returns to the chapel to finish celebrating the liturgy. He is also later reconciled with his fellow priest, and realizes that his fears about the offering was just a misunderstanding. The tardy chanter finally take his place in the chapel and helps the priest and the congregation finish the liturgy. The man punished for sneaking meat still receives a few bites of the festal meal, saved for him by a couple of the older women. Christina is perhaps the only person attending paschal vespers who understands the significance of the feast, despite her shame and oppression.
What I like about these stories is their honesty. They acknowledge both the joy of Christ risen and the baggage that we so often bring with us to celebrate these feasts. It seems like this side of the despoiled grave celebration will always be mixed with struggle. Every year there are dramas, large or small, that I either bring with me or can see playing out in the people around me. Part of being a Christian, I think, is to learn that balance between appropriately acknowledging and mourning these ruptures, while still resting in the spiritual joy and peace that underlies all. Papadiamantis does an excellent job finding and acknowledging this balance. His stories are not about an idealized Christian life, but instead allow spiritual truths to be revealed in the midst of our frailties, doubt, and obliviousness.
Christ is Risen! A blessed paschal season to all, as we muddle our way through.