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Our Cretan Easter

by Ann Lisney

Living in Crete can sometimes be slightly surreal – like when you celebrate Easter on two successive Sundays. It happened this year, because non-Orthodox Europe celebrated Easter on April 16, and Orthodox Greece a week later, on the 23rd.

A lot of the older church-going Cretans take their Lenten fasting quite seriously. Many in our village do not eat any meat or fish for the duration, and on Mondays and Fridays no oil or dairy foods either. The week before Easter (Megali Evdomada – Big Week) they survive pretty much on horta (wild greens) and lentils.  Not surprisingly, this takes its toll on their health! One old lady we know has arthritis and osteoporosis and is on heavy-duty pain medication. The weekend before Easter she was rushed into hospital with a stomach bleed because the pain-killers had eaten into her empty stomach. Fortunately, she is made of tough stuff and was back in the village ready for ‘Paska’ and all the churchgoing.

There are church services throughout the week, but it is practically compulsory to go to at least one on Good Friday. Most churches have an ‘epitaphio’  - a combination of a sedan chair and wooden bier – which is decorated with flowers on Good Friday by the ladies of the parish. On this is laid the church’s most treasured icon, and the whole thing stays in the church for most of the day and is admired and kissed by visitors. At some time in the evening a service is held, during which the epitaphio is carried out of the church – sometimes around the area, sometimes just around the church – then returned. It is then held high in the air for people to walk under (it is supposed to be lucky and helpful in case of illness). Then, on a signal from the priest, everyone falls upon it and strips it of its decoration. To take home a flower from the epitaphio brings luck for the year.

This year, I had agreed to take Kiria Maria (the elderly lady from our village who had been in hospital) to an epitaphio service down in our nearest town. Despite having been discharged from hospital less than twenty four hours previously she was determined to go, and turned up on our doorstep ready to go at about 5.30 in the afternoon. Thinking I had made a mistake about the time of the service, I dropped everything and drove into town. No mistake! The service started at 8 pm. Dear Maria wanted to sit in the church and admire the epitaphio before the service. So we sat. And sat. And admired….

The service started at 8. During it, everyone queued up again to kiss the icon on the epitaphio. There must have been thousands of people – they were still filing in at 10.30 pm! Eventually the crowds tailed off and the epitaphio was lifted up to start its journey around the town. Kiria Maria suggested to me that I might like to follow it and see the spectacle, while she sat in the church and waited for my return. I had just about lost the will to live by this time, so suggested we just went home. She was horrified – what, go home without any of the flowers? 

Problem. Luckily, I spotted that the table where the epitaphio had been resting was also studded with flowers, so I managed to persuade her that if we took a couple from there, they would be just as good.  I unwired a couple of roses, and we beat a retreat!

 

The following evening – the Saturday – we were back on duty, at our own village church this time, for the ‘Anastasi’ service. On this occasion, the service started at 11 pm. Here, the culmination of the service is when all the lights go out in the church except the one candle held by the priest – then all the congregation light candles from that one and the lights come slowly back on again. It symbolises the resurrection, and is quite a nice little tradition.

 

To get good luck for the year, you have to get your candle home without the flame blowing out, and then make the sign of the cross in soot on the door lintel. As it was dead calm at 11 pm we decided to walk to the church. Inevitably, by midnight it was blowing a gale and every candle was extinguished the moment the church door was opened at the end of the service! So no luck in the village this year!

 

After the service, we were invited to a number of homes to a midnight feast, where the Lenten fast is broken. As this is traditionally done with a soup made from tripe and innards, we gracefully declined. In any case, we had to be up early the next morning to help friends with their traditional Easter whole-lamb-on-a-spit barbecue.

 

And who ended up having to chop the head and the dangly bits off? And skewer it onto the spit? And sew up the body cavity with a darning needle and string? It’s a whole set of new talents you need to live here!

 

So what about Easter eggs? Well, the tradition here is to dye hardboiled eggs red, and then crack them against each other – like conkers – to see who has the hardest.  Chocolate eggs are less common, but all sorts of animal shapes in chocolate are available. This year we received a chocolate chicken and rabbits, together with gifts of flowers, vegetables, raki, homemade Easter biscuits, fresh eggs and a beautiful seashell.

 

When we lived in the UK, Easter just used to mean two extra days off work. Here, it is a huge event, filled with religious and secular tradition. Each year we learn a little more, and feel very privileged to be invited to share the experience with our Cretan friends.