February 19th

 

Incense smoke curling,

Pale saints, drained of ochre tears,

Lament for the dead.

 

An old “Aunty” died around this time last year, it’s traditional for the family to welcome family and friends after church for coffee and snacks in memory of the deceased. The priest reads out a list of memorials and the family hand out bread which has been blessed. This meant a visit to church. Greek Orthodox churches have an ancient ceremony about them, although the Church has tried to be progressive in some ways, the service has on the whole remained the same for centuries.

I’m not religious, but I find the trappings of the church fascinating, I looked at the images painted on the walls, in pastel pale tones. The saints with their radiant halos, lovingly removing the dead Christ from the cross and gently cradling him down the ladder. The huge hanging candelabras, images of the two headed eagle glittering with the reflected candlelight, each candle a memory of a dead loved one. Also the sounds and smells, frankincense is burned in the Priests censer, a throwback to Roman times, the heady smell hanging as the priest swings it when he and his entourage tour the church to bless the congregation, a little puff of smoke accompanied by the cymbal like jingle of the censers various parts and tiny bells hitting each other. It’s fascinating. The old men chanting as well, it feels ancient. There aren’t so many hunched bird like old widows anymore, with their black head scarves tied tightly round their heads. They seemed to be everywhere when I was dragged to church when I was little. Times change.

(image from monasteryiconsblog)