Easter In Ukraine
Ever since an assignment at Alfred, where I did a report on the Romanovs and read Robert K. Massie's Nicholas and Alexandra, I have been fascinated with the way Eastern Europeans (or at least those belonging to Orthodox Churches) celebrate Easter. The holiday was something I had been looking forward to for some time.
At least a month earlier, a student invited me home for Easter. At the time I was not sure if it was simply a passing invitation or what, but I said sure. As Easter got closer (it is celebrated a week later than in America) she asked me about it again and I made plans to go to her little city in my oblast for the holiday.
Some of you may be scoffing at the idea of hanging out with a student, but hey, they are the only people here not married or with kids, meaning the only folks interested in making a friendship because they don't have other committments. She and I have gotten closer since my time here as well (see an earlier post in February--I think--about coming home for Film Club) and quite honestly, I thought her to be the perfect guinea pig. If it ends up being a total diaster, she'll be gone if a few months anyway, as she will be an au pair in Germany.
I have also been going through a sort of shift of mindset lately, realizing that nothing is ever certain here or anywhere, and I could go home at any time. I have increasingly made myself evaulate what I would consider my triumphs and failings, and whether or not I'd feel that they'd balance out when I went home. Quite honestly, my failings here have been the language and meeting people. Well, technically just meeting Ukrainians. There two failings go hand in hand and what better way to combat them than to spend some time away speaking Russian with a new Ukrainian family.
As Easter is a religious holiday, a great portion of the holiday is spent at the church. Well. Maybe not an extrordinary amount of time, just unusually early. We arrived at church before 4am, and a mass of people had already collected in the small church. The church itself had walls covered with beautiful icons and smelled strongly of incense. Having done the church thing in Russia, I knew to expect the latter, along with the standing for hours on end (no pews, people--comfort does not even exist in church here) but had forgotten about the awing beauty of these paintings. People were moving periodically to different parts of the church, kissing icons, lighting candles, or randomly (at least to me) crossing themselves.
It was just the student and I, and we did take some breaks during the "service" to go outside and sit on a bench in the cold dark morning (4:30am). Many people had already begun to form a circle outside of the church with their Пасхи (a sweet bread that looks like cupcakes that are made especially for Easter), eggs, and other foods, waiting for the blessing from the priest. It was all so beautiful, as they put lit candles in the bread, which created a warm glow to the otherwise brisk and dark morning.
We waited back inside until the mass was over and then found a place amongst the crowd to lay out her bread and eggs. Bells rang and people took their places. Finally, several people came out holding some icons or some other religious art and let the way for the priest who carried a big brust that he would dip into a bucket held by another man and shake it at the people and all over the food. We had to wait what seemed like forever for our turn, as people would be blessed, pack up the goodies and then a whole new group of people would come to take their place. On the third trip around the church the priest finally sprayed his holy water on us and we left, only to see a long line outside of the church gates.
By the time we left, my feet (wearing heels for the first time in weeks) hurt incredibly. So much so I didn't think that I'd be capable of making it back to her house. But we finally made it home, and I promptly hit the sack.
At least a month earlier, a student invited me home for Easter. At the time I was not sure if it was simply a passing invitation or what, but I said sure. As Easter got closer (it is celebrated a week later than in America) she asked me about it again and I made plans to go to her little city in my oblast for the holiday.
Some of you may be scoffing at the idea of hanging out with a student, but hey, they are the only people here not married or with kids, meaning the only folks interested in making a friendship because they don't have other committments. She and I have gotten closer since my time here as well (see an earlier post in February--I think--about coming home for Film Club) and quite honestly, I thought her to be the perfect guinea pig. If it ends up being a total diaster, she'll be gone if a few months anyway, as she will be an au pair in Germany.
I have also been going through a sort of shift of mindset lately, realizing that nothing is ever certain here or anywhere, and I could go home at any time. I have increasingly made myself evaulate what I would consider my triumphs and failings, and whether or not I'd feel that they'd balance out when I went home. Quite honestly, my failings here have been the language and meeting people. Well, technically just meeting Ukrainians. There two failings go hand in hand and what better way to combat them than to spend some time away speaking Russian with a new Ukrainian family.
As Easter is a religious holiday, a great portion of the holiday is spent at the church. Well. Maybe not an extrordinary amount of time, just unusually early. We arrived at church before 4am, and a mass of people had already collected in the small church. The church itself had walls covered with beautiful icons and smelled strongly of incense. Having done the church thing in Russia, I knew to expect the latter, along with the standing for hours on end (no pews, people--comfort does not even exist in church here) but had forgotten about the awing beauty of these paintings. People were moving periodically to different parts of the church, kissing icons, lighting candles, or randomly (at least to me) crossing themselves.
It was just the student and I, and we did take some breaks during the "service" to go outside and sit on a bench in the cold dark morning (4:30am). Many people had already begun to form a circle outside of the church with their Пасхи (a sweet bread that looks like cupcakes that are made especially for Easter), eggs, and other foods, waiting for the blessing from the priest. It was all so beautiful, as they put lit candles in the bread, which created a warm glow to the otherwise brisk and dark morning.
We waited back inside until the mass was over and then found a place amongst the crowd to lay out her bread and eggs. Bells rang and people took their places. Finally, several people came out holding some icons or some other religious art and let the way for the priest who carried a big brust that he would dip into a bucket held by another man and shake it at the people and all over the food. We had to wait what seemed like forever for our turn, as people would be blessed, pack up the goodies and then a whole new group of people would come to take their place. On the third trip around the church the priest finally sprayed his holy water on us and we left, only to see a long line outside of the church gates.
By the time we left, my feet (wearing heels for the first time in weeks) hurt incredibly. So much so I didn't think that I'd be capable of making it back to her house. But we finally made it home, and I promptly hit the sack.
posted by Molly | 4:39 AM
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