Great Friday

April 17, 2009

Churches here chime their bells, in a subdued manner, all day long, on Great Friday.

Why does everybody call the Friday might service the Lamentations? They aren’t laments; they are encomia, high praises.

Anyway, the Lamentations Service at Agia Sophia was a disaster. If I just tell you that in the middle of the proceedings, a Japanese tour group came walking through in their jeans, gawking at everything and taking pictures, will that give you an idea? No.

If I tell you I calculated the number of people who came up to venerate the Epitaphion (bier of Christ) during the service and it was well over 2,400, will that give you an idea? (If you are here imagining a line of silent people, erase from your mind both the silence and the line.) Did I ever mention I’m claustrophobic in crowds?

If I mention the fight that broke out at the Epitaphion – but no, let us move on.

The Epitaphion – or one of them, anyway, for there were two (don’t ask!) – was decorated not only with the usual flowers, but also by four, large, rectangular, fluorescent lamps; and the mayor, following an apparently very old Greek tradition, sent over a brass band to accompany it during its hour-long procession. That’s right; the procession lasted at least an hour, maybe longer. The band played that (Western) funeral march we used to sing as children; if you sing “La, la, di-dah” all on the same note, you’ll know the one I mean. The idea is that Christ is the King and His funeral procession, therefore, ought to be treated as a quasi State Occasion. I think the band played the Trisagion Hymn, too, and I’m here to tell you, you haven’t lived until you’ve heard “Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal,” played by a brass band. (Why do I only think I heard the band play that, and cannot be sure? Again, don’t ask!)

At least the lamentations/encomia themselves were wonderful, right? Wrong, but skip it! About the only good thing about the whole misadventure was that at one point (don’t ask), we found ourselves behind Charilaos Taliadoros, the great cantor, who, looking over his shoulder, recognized Demetrios, smiled, and asked when we had arrived. Nothing makes up for a ruined Good Friday service, but that came as close as anything could. Charilaos even said Demetrios could stand next to him one day and they’d chant together. (I’d wager it’ll be the very first Sunday after Pascha.) Demetrios addressed him as “Teacher”, which he is, being one of the founders of a school of Byzantine chant.

Charilaos was a widower last time we were here; now has a wife. He seems much happier, glory to God!

Another comfort was that Demetrios made a very good friend of another cantor named Theophanis. (How do two strangers become fast friends in the course of the most solemn church service of the year? Don’t ask that, either!) Demetrios told me afterward, “He is a cantor, a theologian, a teacher of humanities, and a psychologist.”

“And here you are, a cantor, a theologian, a would-be teacher of the humanities [it’s the profession he would have chosen had his mother not chosen medicine for him] and a psychiatrist!”

Well, there’s another comfort, too, such as it is. And that is that I wasn’t the only one who felt distressed by the entire evening. It wasn’t only because of my impure, hyper-critical, judgmental soul. Demetrios, whose soul is far purer than mine, was also upset by the whole business (although he freely admits neither of us would have been, were we holy).

We had planned to take a taxi home, but finding ourselves at a bus stop, decided to go home that way instead. We didn’t have change between us to pay the fare. Each ticket costs 60 Eurocents. We only had a and 1-Euro and a 2-Euro coin, neither of which the ticket-dispensing machine in the bus takes. It doesn’t give change, either. Demetrios asked a nearby man if he might have change for a Euro. “Give it to me,” said the man. So Demetrios did, and the man handed him two bus tickets. He wouldn’t accept the 20 cents more from Demetrios, saying that would amount to re-sale of the tickets, which would be illegal. Then he claimed to have gotten them at a bargain, at only 50 cents each. Then they got into a long discussion, which ended with the man handing Demetrios his card and saying maybe he and his wife could go out with us for Ouzo sometime after Pascha.

So that nice event helped salvage some of the evening, too. We think we might actually follow up on that invitation!

It’s so easy, here, to meet wonderful people and become good friends.