Elaborate Orthodox Easter service seems to be out of another time

Elizabeth Ahlin
Omaha World-Herald
Tuesday, May 06, 2008

May 6--The air was rife with the rich aroma of incense, and the floor was littered with bay leaves, a remnant of the morning's service.

It was nearly 11 p.m. on the last Saturday in April, just another day for most Christians.

But at St. John the Baptist Greek Orthodox Church, women in Easter hats and girls in pastel dresses were just beginning to arrive for Holy Pascha, or Orthodox Easter.

Wearing a robe, 73-year-old Zoe White walked up to the edge of the choir loft, just barely leaning over the edge.

"Anyone that ventures up here has to sing!" White playfully called to those standing below.

As people began to trickle in, dropping money in a donation basket and lighting candles in the entryway of the 100-year-old church on 30th Street and Park Avenue in Omaha, White was practically bubbling with anticipation.

Pascha is the favorite time of year for White, born Zoe Matsukis.

The sense of excitement was shared withmany of the 175 churchgoers there that night. For them, Easter is a time of pride in their Greek heritage, a time of renewal and spirituality, a time permeated with tradition.

Downstairs, two men were busy with the annual task of preparing 150 pounds of lamb and 40 pounds of potatoes for a feast that would end what had been, for some, several weeks of fasting -- no meat, no eggs, no dairy.

But that would come later. First there was the three-hour service, an event with such pageantry, grown men and women speak of it with both reverence and giddy excitement.

From the date of the celebration to the chanting, almost everything about Greek Orthodox Easter feels like something from another world and time.

Orthodox congregations celebrate Easter based on the Julian calendar, not the Gregorian calendar as most western Christians do. Some years the holidays are on the same day. This year, they were five weeks apart, with Orthodox Easter falling on April 27.

At Orthodox churches around the world, congregations gather together Saturday night for a service that often runs past 2 a.m., in contrast to the Sunday morning services that mark Easter at most western Christian churches.

In some Christian churches, an Easter service begins with great fanfare -- dramatic music, a processional -- but in the Greek Orthodox church, the beginning is understated.

At 11 p.m., chanters began to sing, alternating between Greek and English.

The choir sang in response.

Lord, have mercy. Lord, have mercy. Lord, have mercy.

The congregation stood to say the Lord's Prayer. Again, the choir sang.

Lord, have mercy. Lord, have mercy. Lord, have mercy.

As they do in all Orthodox services, the chanters continued to sing until midnight drew closer.

Just before midnight, the lights inside the church were extinguished. The congregation sat in silence and in darkness.

It's a moment White treasured as a child. Growing up in Concord, Neb., there was no Greek church to attend every week. Orthodox services were special treats, reserved mostly for holidays when her family was able to travel to Sioux City.

In that church, as in this one, the moment of darkness was peaceful and quiet -- a marked contrast to the mixture of sorrow and hope that tinged Friday evening's service at St. John the Baptist.

At that service, little girls in white dresses had gathered up baskets of deep red rose petals and walked toward the kouvouklion, a wooden structure symbolizing the tomb of Christ. The girls circled the structure, sprinkling it with petals, just as women anointed the tomb of Christ with myrrh on the day before the Resurrection.

Eight of the congregation's strongest young men lifted the tomb of Christ from its place at the front of the church, and they carried it outside.

Carrying a tall cross, Franklin Lewis, one of the church's oldest acolytes, or altar boys, led them outside. After the acolytes came the chanters, then the Rev. Peter Pappas, followed by the men carrying the tomb of Christ.

The 2 1/2 -hour service was almost over, but this was the moment so many had awaited. The congregation followed, forming a funeral procession for Christ.

Singing quietly, the group made its way outside and down the steps of the church, then turned onto Park Avenue.

As the 18-year-old Lewis led the procession around the corner, in the direction of a coin laundry's brightly lit parking lot, he thought of millions of Orthodox Christians around the world, doing the same thing at the same time.

As the group circled the block, the sense of pride and unity was palpable, as real as the smell of grilled meat and fabric softener that wafted out of area businesses and flavored the neighborhood air.

When the group approached the church again, the kouvouklion was carried to the doorway, where the men held it aloft. All who re-entered the church, young and old, ducked to walk underneath the tomb of Christ, symbolizing their passage from death to life.

On Saturday night, the church was cloaked in darkness until Pappas emerged from the altar with a single candle.

With his single flame, Pappas lit another candle, which, in turn, was used to light another. The flame was passed from person to person, until the entire sanctuary was bathed in candlelight.

When the choir began to sing "Christ Is Risen," White's strong voice carried over the other members. Her eyes glassy with tears, she threw her head back and sang.

This song is her song.

As a child, when she heard the word "zoe," the Greek word for life, being sung in "Christ Is Risen," she thought, "This song is for me." As she grew older, she learned the song's meaning, but it didn't change things. It will always be her song.

When it was over, White said a silent prayer. Thank you, God, for allowing me to attend. Next year, I pray I'm still here.

Days later she would speak reverently about the service, about the traditions she wants to pass on to the congregation's young people, like Lewis.

"If we have done our job, we will have instilled in our children the love, the beauty of our heritage and our culture," White said.

On that Easter Saturday, Lewis and White, together with the rest of the congregation, embraced Greek Orthodox tradition as they answered the priest's call.

"Christos Anesti!" Pappas said, thrusting his candle into the air. "Christ Is Risen!"

All in the church held their candles high.

"Aleithos Anesti! Truly He Is Risen!"