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Holier than thou

by Ann Lisney

Why do the Greeks always build their churches on the top of a hill? It may mean that God has a short walk to work, but it’s usually something of a trek for everyone else. And when the congregation is mainly elderly, that often means they cannot get to a service, or have to beg a lift.

Our local church shares a priest with four other churches, so there is a normal Sunday service every five weeks or so. There are, of course, a lot of extra services – funerals, memorials, name days, saints days and so on – and so keen worshippers have to keep on their toes in order to fit them all in.

Now we have more-or-less been officially adopted by Mama – an elderly lady in our village - we have become her normal way of getting up to the church. Unfortunately, the usual Sunday service starts at 7 am, which does not really fit in with our body clocks – which are usually firmly stuck at ‘You must be joking, we’re retired’ at that time of day. However, the benefits of the relationship with Mama far outweigh such a minor inconvenience, so we usually compromise at about 8 am. The service lasts until after 10 am and people come and go throughout, so late arrival is not really a problem.

We arrived at about 8 am for one of our church’s name days (we have two patron saints for our church) one winter morning, and settled in for the duration. It was a bitterly cold morning and although it was an hour after official kick-off, apart from the priest, his wife, and the cantor, we were still the first to arrive. Even Dimitri, who is usually stationed by the door, taking the money for the candles, had not arrived.

We huddled into our usual hard seats on the side wall and froze. Where are those hot flushes when you need them?

Eventually others arrived, and by virtue of body heat and the flames from the candles, the temperature soared to around 10 degrees. A young couple – who must be related to a family in the village – and their two little boys arrived, and the two children played happily on the floor with their matchbox-sized racing cars.

One of the main things about a name day is that everyone brings bread to the church to be blessed. This is usually in the form of a circular loaf of about 18 inches diameter, but can also be round bread rolls. The priest blesses this at the end of the service, then everyone takes some home. Well, towards the end of this service there were 28 people in church – and 15 large loaves and 20 or so small rolls. 

One of the small boys started to get fretful and his mother picked a roll off the table and gave it to him to keep him quiet. Suddenly, the priest’s wife swept down from her seat like an avenging Harpy, and snatched the bread out of the toddler’s hand. She furiously admonished the parents, and huffed back to her seat. The child was so astonished at losing his prize, he forgot to cry, and the service continued.

It later appeared that this particular child was to receive holy water or wine from the priest, and apparently this has to be received on an empty stomach….

At the end of the service, everyone swept down on the blessed bread and stuffed great handfuls of it into pockets, plastic bags, handbags, etc. until all that was left was a few crumbs.

The peculiar thing about blessed bread is that it never goes mouldy. I have tested this myself by keeping a chunk in a drawer that is of 2004 vintage. It is so hard now that it could grate cheese, but mouldy it is not!

Another interesting service is held twice a year when everyone gets the opportunity to mourn their dead. As usual, there is food involved – kolyva, which is a mix of nuts, grains, seeds and sugar – and practically everyone who goes to church takes a bowl of this along. They also take along a list of dear-departed friends and family – some lists being yards long – and the priest reads out all the names during the (mercifully otherwise short) service.  Again, you are expected to take along a plastic bag which you fill with scoops of kolyva from each of the bowls. Woe betide you if you ignore one of them, as the owner will sweep down and insist that you add hers to your already-groaning plastic bag.

And what do you do with three kilos of kolyva, I hear you ask?  Well, one spoonful is more than enough for Rob and me, so we usually put the rest in a bowl and leave it out for the birds….. I hear the wild birds in this part of Crete are finding it more difficult to fly these days. I wonder why?

Whether your Christmas is a religious one or not, have a happy time and a peaceful new year.