Vigil in Stillness

What a Lent it has been! In the Orthodox tradition, the 40 days preceding Easter is called "Great Lent." I personally feel the Lent of 2020 has been a great Lent, in that the current situation the majority of the world's Christians have been forced to sit inside their homes unable to attend study groups, rituals and Church services. Lent is supposed to be a time where we empty ourselves from earthly distractions, fasting is a practice to aid in this emptying. We are in essence creating space for Divinity in these 40 days leading up to Easter. I personally was both looking forward to and dreading Lent and Easter this year. My father passed last Summer, and he was a passionate musician, conductor and choir director for 40 years of his adult life. He came from a long line of Orthodox Priests and Cantors, in fact his full last name should have been Popov, meaning "Priest" in Macedonian. The American immigration officer at Ellis Island essentially erased his last name, telling my grandfather his name (Ivan Georgieff Popov) was too long and complicated. This tradition of Popov was not erased however, and I have been blessed to carry it on in my own way.

I was reflecting with a friend the other day that this was the perfect way for me personally to celebrate my first earthly Easter without my dad, as there would be no church services and no music. I think this lock down would have really been difficult for my hyperactive and borderline obsessive compulsive dad, so I am glad he is not around to endure this situation. Sitting still and not having rituals of any kind would have driven him mad, and would have been very difficult for those of us trying to coexist with him during a lockdown. Both my parents made every holiday special during my childhood, youth and through most of my adulthood. My father especially, with his love for music made every Easter so special. Every year since my known memory, my father produced  an Easter Concert of some major choral work along with Easter Sunday music of Choir and Orchestra which he paid for out of his own pocket. The Hallelujah Chorus along with Rachmaninoff's Gloria were his Easter favorites, and I feel his spirit most intensely when I hear these pieces. My dad will be participating in the ultimate choir this Easter, while on earth we will have to rely on tapes of previous services to companion us during the lock down.

In a recent interview, Archbishop Roche of the Vatican's Congregation for Divine Worship remarked that this Lent and Easter is much like the experience of the Disciples and early Christians. During and immediately after the Crucifixion, the followers of Jesus were locked away in their homes or rooms, mainly out of fear of being killed by Roman guards. They had publicly followed a convicted criminal that had just been crucified. Roche said we are now waiting for Easter, locked in our rooms, out of fear of being killed by a virus.

In the days leading up to the lockdown, it was a daily and painful experience to watch the (not so) slow withdrawal of the Church. Ash Wednesday was celebrated in full force with music, liturgy and the sacraments. In the weeks following, first the Holy Water containers were filled with rocks, then only bread was offered during Communion, then nothing was offered, only the Priest took the sacrament, and then the churches were closed. There were heartfelt prayers, emails and youtube videos of pastors, priests and other clergy from different faiths announcing the online options for congregants. In some churches the rituals are continuing but with no congregants present. Interesting and creative events are happening round the world, video conference prayers, liturgy and sermons are common. My personal favorite is one pastor taped pictures of his congregants onto the pews as witnesses to his videotaped service.  In certain regions hard hit by the virus, pastors, nuns and priests are risking their lives to minister to the dying and sick, to carry on with age old rituals surrounding Holy Week. I sat and cried watching the PBS Newshour coverage of Good Friday at the Vatican and in Jerusalem. The tears flowed quite freely when I watched priests in Notre Dame of Paris conduct Good Friday liturgy in the ashes of the burnt out cathedral. Everywhere there are empty churches and cathedrals, vacant streets. In Jerusalem priests in masks, gloves and goggles carried large wooden crosses up the Via Delorosa, to  closed doors at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. This church the newscaster said, had not been closed in nearly 700 years, the last time the doors were shut was during the Black Death of the 14th Century. For those of us who find deep peace and solace with rituals and church services, to endure this pandemic without access to such resources is particularly painful.

Memes are circulating on social media comparing mall parking lots with church parking lots, questioning why people can go to Walmart but not Church. Pastors in certain regions are petitioning  states and counties to be exempt from shut down orders to allow people to come together for services and Easter, saying they are "essential service" providers. Some pastors are arrested by local law enforcement for violating lock down orders. As my family endured 500 years of Ottoman occupation and several generations of enforced communism and atheism, I have always been cynically amused at what certain Christian sects (specifically in America,) consider "religious oppression." My family endured numerous decades where baptisms had to be conducted during the middle of the night in basements for fear of discovery and retribution, Bibles were burned and relatives imprisoned for trying to practice their faith. Access to employment could be curtailed and medical care withheld if one was identified as a Christian. Under the communist regime, Christian holidays were erased from the calendar and extra work required on the days traditionally set aside for celebrations. If there were special foods eaten during festivals, the government would make sure none of the ingredients  used for such meals were available for purchase weeks before the date. So while having churches closed during this Lent has been painful, I often reflect to the suffering of so many Christians throughout the centuries endured during many a festival.

I had the deep honor of visiting Moscow shortly following the dissolution of the Soviet Union in the early 1990's. I remember at that time, the first Easter when the churches had been opened since the Russian Revolution. There were so many worshippers, Russia ran out of wax for candles. During a free afternoon from the conference I was attending, I had asked one of my Russian counterparts to help me purchase some Icons for my grandmother. For an Orthodox Christian, going to Russia is similar to visiting Israel for the Jewish faithful. Grammy as I called her, gave me money to purchase jewelry and Icons for the both of us. My Russian friends introduced me to a former Soviet Nuclear Fleet commander to take me to the Kremlin where I could purchase the items. He spoke no English, I essentially no Russian. He grabbed my hand and ran me across wide Moscow streets with cars whizzing past. I simply went limp and let this man who had his finger on the button to annihilate my nation with nuclear bombs for two decades lead the way. We went through the famous Moscow underground, where the captain hugged me tight and sheltered me from any harm that might have come my way. He took me to the churches in the Kremlin, where I got in as a "local" without the extra fee charged to foreigners.

Since I landed in Moscow, I wondered how it was that I could attend services at any church. I especially wanted to witness Liturgical music, the deep soulful chants of my father and grandfather. As I stood in an ancient church where the tombs of the Czars dated from the 13th century, an entourage of novice candidates for the priesthood entered into the sanctuary. They began to rehearse the liturgy, and I started to sob silently as I knew these churches had been silent for 75 years. The Captain who was still holding my hand watched me, and he started to cry as well. We had no language but that of the heart and soul. As we walked from church to church, the novice choir followed us and sang in each chapel. My prayer had been answered. I remember thinking to myself; this is what happens when institutions are absent from faith, it is pure and filled with love. I have since that fateful day, considered that particular day to be my best day in my entire life.

As I reflect on that day and the experience of my ancestors along with the current lockdown with the very first Easter, something shines through for me. Yes, I deeply miss the Holy Week studies and services I enjoyed for decades. I long for the Sacraments, I miss the music, and oh how I miss my dad and the Easters of our shared past. But the only thing I have been able to cleave to in these very odd Lent leading up to Easter is the feeling in my heart, the Peace that Passes all understanding. I gaze at the photocopied image of The Virgin of Guadalupe on the mirror in my bedroom, I delve into readings, the Gospels, I pray and I feel a sense not felt since that sweet experience in Moscow so many many years ago. Churches, ritual, community are all important and intregal to furthering the healing nature of Christ, but they can also substitute for the deeper work in which we need to engage.

Christ mentioned that the widow who gave pennies gave more than those who gave large amounts of money publicly to the Temple. He told us to pray in private, and not make a spectacle of ourselves. Christ is more interested in our internal work, the work of our soul and spirit, which is not exactly a visible activity. Our behaviors obviously are visible, and as he said, "A tree is known by it's fruit," but the internal is just as important as our works. The whole world is on Easter Vigil, locked in our rooms, not knowing what is to become of us all. It is time to work on our souls and our spirits. We know Christ came, we know he has risen, we know he is present now. I ask myself all the time, how can I use this time, what am I to learn from this experience. I remain still and wait knowing that Divinity is accessible regardless of externals.

I hope you feel the peace that passes all understanding in this very confused and profound time, that we are joined through our hearts which nothing, not one thing can separate.

For this I know that is true that nothing can separate us from the love of God, not things present nor things past, not angels or principalities, not even a virus or shelter in place orders, or locked church doors, for we are all one in he who has risen.