Blog #13 A Greek Orthodox Baptism
Blog Post #13
A Greek Orthodox Baptism
April 29, 2018
Gentle Reader,
I am currently reading a book that talks about the loss that occurs when love and patience are not existing in harmony. Today, and really in my life in general, I feel that love and patience converged to produce a beautiful result...
I have been trying for two weeks to visit the Church of St Therapon in Myteline Port. This church is constructed in the Baroque style, with some Rococo and Neoclassic elements. Construction began early in the 19th century and was completed in 1935. The church dominates the city of Mytilene with its impressive size and its unique combination of architecture styles. The architect was a native of the island of Lesvos -- Argyris Adalis, who was a student of Ernst Ziller.
I'd like to dedicate this blog post to my dear friend Chadi in Madisonville, as St Therapon is from Cyprus, Chadi's original home. Apparently, Therapon was a monk and ascetic on the island of Cyprus. He brought many Greeks to the Christian faith; however, he was persecuted by the pagans, being starved, imprisoned and flogged. They stripped him and threw him to the ground, bound him to four posts, and beat him mercilessly, until they had stripped the flesh from his bones (my apologies for the gruesomeness of these details). Therapon, however, remained alive and the four dry posts became green and grew into tall trees from which many of the sick received healing. In the end, Therapon was slain like a lamb and became known as a martyr. This was all about the year 259.
I wanted to see the inside of St Therapon because of its connection to my mother's faith base. Although her church in Mahonoy City, Pennsylvania was called Greek Orthodox, the service was done in Slovak. I attended many services there, as well at my father's Lithuanian Catholic Church, when I spent my summers with my Nana growing up. I distinctly remember the smell of incense there, as well as the chanting style of singing, all a Capella. My Uncle George, my mother's brother, was the cantor at their church for many, many years. I come from a long line of singers on my mother's side of the family. She had 13 siblings (2 females, 11 males), and when they gathered around the piano in the parlor, eight part harmony naturally emerged. My mother always told me that her mother, my Baba, was listening to me sing in heaven. We are both sopranos.
So.... my patience and love converged. Almost every day I have tried to see the inside of this church, but it has always been locked. I thought I would try Sunday morning, as perhaps there would be a weekly service. What I discovered were preparations underway. With all the tulle and pastels and flowers, I assumed they were prepping for a wedding. Several photographers were setting up lights in the relatively dark space of the church. Groups of people were setting up tables with refreshments in the church courtyard. And what a lovely day for a Greek wedding!!!
The only thing that didn't fit my "this is a wedding" assumption was a table to the left of the altar. The table contained a large treasure chest sort of white box as well as a white dress. I thought perhaps the dress was for the flower girl, waiting for her to arrive.
Over the next hour, guests began to arrive, all carrying gift bags from various stores around town. People were gussied up in their very best, all the way to tennis shoes and jeans. There was a palpable feeling of excitement in the air. When a couple entered the church, with the woman clothed in a flowing pink dress, I began to sense this was not a wedding. Perhaps the godmother was carrying the baby girl.
There was no moment of quiet during this ceremony. The cantor chanted throughout, and many of the guests chatted with one another throughout the ceremony. There seemed to be no prohibition regarding who could enter the altar space, as there were many people surrounding the couple, taking photos. The baby girl, who looked to be about 6 months old, was stripped down and then handed to the priest for the baptism. She was placed in the font of water, letting loose with appropriate wailing. Oh, prior to that moment, the parents both put on long butcher sort of aprons, to prevent them from getting wet, I am assuming. The baby was also anointed with holy oil. Then, the godmother dressed the baby in the white garment that I had observed on the altar. Yes, everything made sense now.
After the short ceremony, the guests all lined up to greet the parents of the baby in a receiving line on the altar. Again, a sense of great joy permeated this gathering. There were at least three hundred people attending this baptism. The baby was on the other side of the altar, meeting with photographers. Several people took turns trying to get her to "smile" for the photographers. All attempts were richly animated!
One of the reasons I was hoping for a wedding was that I have never seen a Greek Orthodox wedding, save the one my parents had for their 50th wedding anniversary back in 2005. In 1955, my mother was defying tradition and marrying outside her Slovak ethnicity -- she was marrying a Lithuanian Catholic. At that time, there were Catholic Churches all over the west end of Mahonoy City, a Synagogue in the center of town, and the Protestant Churches in the east end of town. People were expected to marry within their own church. My father's family had an infamous reputation, with many of his uncles jailed for arson. My father's father, an alcoholic, would burn my grandmother's shoes and dresses when he could not find her to beat. It was not a family my Baba wanted my mother to marry into. However, love prevailed. My Baba refused to attend the wedding and threatened to disown her other sons and daughter if they attended. As a result, my mother had a very tearful wedding day, without much of her family present, in Brooklyn.
In 2005, to celebrate their 50th anniversary, my parents renewed their vows at the Greek Church in Mahonoy City, where they should have been married in the first place. The whole traditional ceremony with the crowns was performed, and it was a beautiful honoring of their love for one another. The priest who married them in Brooklyn in 1955 also performed this renewal of vows, fifty years later. My parents were the first couple that priest had ever married. Everything comes full circle. Patience and love -- a most powerful combination for my parents, too.
Here are a few more photos from the ceremony today...
To honor the patience and love of my parents, who were married for 63 years (my mother passed in July 2017), I would like to end this blog post with 1 Corinthians 13...
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails... and now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love...
I am a most fortunate human being to have this kind of love in my life through my partner Scott. He is both patient and kind, always protects, trusts, and hopes. Always perseveres. He believes in the authenticity of our love, as do I. We are fortunate to have found each other in Istanbul, Turkey, almost nine years ago. We bring out the very best in one another...
May you embrace the beautiful beloveds in your life, holding them close to the heart of you...
Namaste,
Marianne
A Greek Orthodox Baptism
April 29, 2018
Gentle Reader,
I am currently reading a book that talks about the loss that occurs when love and patience are not existing in harmony. Today, and really in my life in general, I feel that love and patience converged to produce a beautiful result...
I have been trying for two weeks to visit the Church of St Therapon in Myteline Port. This church is constructed in the Baroque style, with some Rococo and Neoclassic elements. Construction began early in the 19th century and was completed in 1935. The church dominates the city of Mytilene with its impressive size and its unique combination of architecture styles. The architect was a native of the island of Lesvos -- Argyris Adalis, who was a student of Ernst Ziller.
I'd like to dedicate this blog post to my dear friend Chadi in Madisonville, as St Therapon is from Cyprus, Chadi's original home. Apparently, Therapon was a monk and ascetic on the island of Cyprus. He brought many Greeks to the Christian faith; however, he was persecuted by the pagans, being starved, imprisoned and flogged. They stripped him and threw him to the ground, bound him to four posts, and beat him mercilessly, until they had stripped the flesh from his bones (my apologies for the gruesomeness of these details). Therapon, however, remained alive and the four dry posts became green and grew into tall trees from which many of the sick received healing. In the end, Therapon was slain like a lamb and became known as a martyr. This was all about the year 259.
I wanted to see the inside of St Therapon because of its connection to my mother's faith base. Although her church in Mahonoy City, Pennsylvania was called Greek Orthodox, the service was done in Slovak. I attended many services there, as well at my father's Lithuanian Catholic Church, when I spent my summers with my Nana growing up. I distinctly remember the smell of incense there, as well as the chanting style of singing, all a Capella. My Uncle George, my mother's brother, was the cantor at their church for many, many years. I come from a long line of singers on my mother's side of the family. She had 13 siblings (2 females, 11 males), and when they gathered around the piano in the parlor, eight part harmony naturally emerged. My mother always told me that her mother, my Baba, was listening to me sing in heaven. We are both sopranos.
So.... my patience and love converged. Almost every day I have tried to see the inside of this church, but it has always been locked. I thought I would try Sunday morning, as perhaps there would be a weekly service. What I discovered were preparations underway. With all the tulle and pastels and flowers, I assumed they were prepping for a wedding. Several photographers were setting up lights in the relatively dark space of the church. Groups of people were setting up tables with refreshments in the church courtyard. And what a lovely day for a Greek wedding!!!
The only thing that didn't fit my "this is a wedding" assumption was a table to the left of the altar. The table contained a large treasure chest sort of white box as well as a white dress. I thought perhaps the dress was for the flower girl, waiting for her to arrive.
Over the next hour, guests began to arrive, all carrying gift bags from various stores around town. People were gussied up in their very best, all the way to tennis shoes and jeans. There was a palpable feeling of excitement in the air. When a couple entered the church, with the woman clothed in a flowing pink dress, I began to sense this was not a wedding. Perhaps the godmother was carrying the baby girl.
There was no moment of quiet during this ceremony. The cantor chanted throughout, and many of the guests chatted with one another throughout the ceremony. There seemed to be no prohibition regarding who could enter the altar space, as there were many people surrounding the couple, taking photos. The baby girl, who looked to be about 6 months old, was stripped down and then handed to the priest for the baptism. She was placed in the font of water, letting loose with appropriate wailing. Oh, prior to that moment, the parents both put on long butcher sort of aprons, to prevent them from getting wet, I am assuming. The baby was also anointed with holy oil. Then, the godmother dressed the baby in the white garment that I had observed on the altar. Yes, everything made sense now.
After the short ceremony, the guests all lined up to greet the parents of the baby in a receiving line on the altar. Again, a sense of great joy permeated this gathering. There were at least three hundred people attending this baptism. The baby was on the other side of the altar, meeting with photographers. Several people took turns trying to get her to "smile" for the photographers. All attempts were richly animated!
One of the reasons I was hoping for a wedding was that I have never seen a Greek Orthodox wedding, save the one my parents had for their 50th wedding anniversary back in 2005. In 1955, my mother was defying tradition and marrying outside her Slovak ethnicity -- she was marrying a Lithuanian Catholic. At that time, there were Catholic Churches all over the west end of Mahonoy City, a Synagogue in the center of town, and the Protestant Churches in the east end of town. People were expected to marry within their own church. My father's family had an infamous reputation, with many of his uncles jailed for arson. My father's father, an alcoholic, would burn my grandmother's shoes and dresses when he could not find her to beat. It was not a family my Baba wanted my mother to marry into. However, love prevailed. My Baba refused to attend the wedding and threatened to disown her other sons and daughter if they attended. As a result, my mother had a very tearful wedding day, without much of her family present, in Brooklyn.
In 2005, to celebrate their 50th anniversary, my parents renewed their vows at the Greek Church in Mahonoy City, where they should have been married in the first place. The whole traditional ceremony with the crowns was performed, and it was a beautiful honoring of their love for one another. The priest who married them in Brooklyn in 1955 also performed this renewal of vows, fifty years later. My parents were the first couple that priest had ever married. Everything comes full circle. Patience and love -- a most powerful combination for my parents, too.
Here are a few more photos from the ceremony today...
To honor the patience and love of my parents, who were married for 63 years (my mother passed in July 2017), I would like to end this blog post with 1 Corinthians 13...
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails... and now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love...
I am a most fortunate human being to have this kind of love in my life through my partner Scott. He is both patient and kind, always protects, trusts, and hopes. Always perseveres. He believes in the authenticity of our love, as do I. We are fortunate to have found each other in Istanbul, Turkey, almost nine years ago. We bring out the very best in one another...
May you embrace the beautiful beloveds in your life, holding them close to the heart of you...
Namaste,
Marianne
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