Saturday Night

So I had seen the El Greco! 

By now it was getting to be late afternoon and I was at one end of town and needed to head off to the other end to get to the last place on my "want to see" list.  I confess that I was out of enthusiasm. Running on fumes. 

While I might looked to an observer like a tourist on a stroll, I was actually having an argument with myself. 

On the one hand, I wanted to visit the little Catholic church that was in my hotel neighborhood. I hadn't seen it yet--frankly because it was up a bit of a steep hill and I hadn't talked myself into the "climb." Jeshua had visited and the priest who was there at the time seemed a little unfriendly, so there was evidence for the "don't bother" side of my inward debate. I was tired and probably needed to think about getting some dinner and what was one more church, anyway? I had been in quite a few and eventually they start running together in my memories. I didn't really need more data in that memory file, did I?

I had been walking the whole time I was in the debate and I was getting close to the corner of decision...and I mean the literal corner. If I turned to the right, I'd soon be back to my hotel...rats...that meant I had unwittingly passed the cafe with the really good pizza slices. I slowed my pace..thinking to stave off the decision. I would likely never be back in this spot. I looked at my watch: 5:10 p.m. A little earlier than I thought. Hmm...time enough to go, take a quick look and a picture or two to say I'd been there and then head out for some supper. 

Decision made, I walked straight through the corner and started up the hill. It was steep enough that they had taken out some of the marble in the middle of the street and put in concrete that had ridges...like corrugation...I'm assuming to give cars traction. But my cane and I made it to the top and could see the plain little church across the street and off to the left.

At the base of the gate was a landing with steps coming up from both directions...maybe eight or so--see the handrails. Very thankful for them.

 

 

Appreciated the English Translation of the sign.

For those of you reading this and not clear about what the "annunciation" is, think announcement. It is in specific reference to when the angel Gabriel was sent by God to Nazareth to let Mary know that she had been chosen to bear the Messiah. It's a great read..Luke Chapter 1...and Mary's response: 
 
^{Luke 1:38} Then Mary said, “Behold the maidservant of the Lord! Let it be to me according to your word.”

Whew, talk about having a good attitude and choosing to be obedient!! 

I stood in the street a few minutes, just thinking about that account...took a deep breath and started up the steps. The doors opened easily and I stepped into the vestibule. 

Often there is someone watching over the church. Sometimes a priest, but more often a women of the congregation. I can imagine the ladies' group had a sign up sheet and took turns hovering in the back and making sure that proper respect is shown by the visitors.

However, in this moment, no one was around. This was my first view.

The sanctuary felt refreshingly simple...and since my tradition is painfully simple, that is saying a lot! But remember I've been visiting Greek Orthodox churches full of icons and ornate decor. Please note: I am not making a judgement statement, but just an observation.

Know that there was no light from heaven or angelic presence, but I knew from the moment I stepped into the church, that the presence of God was there...maybe even waiting for me. I walked up to the third bench from the front and sat down. 

As in many churches in Europe, someone was buried in the isle. 

I took off my backpack, took a deep breath and looked around. Looking at the painting at the front and physically feeling (no, I can't explain it) God's presence.
No one else came in.
 

" Ecce Ancilla Domini" -- "Behold the Handmaiden of the Lord"

I started to softly sing what I call Mary's song...her response to Elizabeth as they talked about the two babies not yet born--John (the Baptist) and Jesus (the Messiah).  Still in Luke Chapter 1...
⁴⁶ And Mary said:
“My soul doth magnify the Lord,
⁴⁷ And my spirit has rejoiced in God my Savior.
⁴⁹ For He who is mighty has done great things for me,
And holy is His name."

I looked to the left and there was a beautiful painting of the baptism of Jesus...and I switched songs...

 "Let the Spirit descend on the wings of a dove...
As it did on Jesus that day.
He was baptized by John in the river called Jordan.
And a voice like thunder cried, "This is my Son!"
     "This is my Son, in whom I'm well pleased.
      This is my only Son!"
(you can read about it in Luke, Chapter 3.)

What a wonderful time of worship! And then the church bells rang! I looked at my watch...5:45 p.m. Just then a priest came into the sanctuary from a side door. He smiled at me, but went about opening the Bible on the pulpit, adjusting a microphone and doing what looked to me like the last minute chores of any pastor about ready to have a service. People started slowly arriving. 

I was thrilled to think that a service was starting! I had been in the "brick and mortar" of lots of churches, but here, in this moment, I was with THE CHURCH...the gathering of believers for worship!

Now you will note that I am NOT quibbling about modes of baptism or theological correctness (from whose viewpoint?) or the veneration of Mary (all you protestants need to know that veneration actually means: great respect!). I will not fall down the rabbit hole into those discussions just now. However, I admit that, not being Catholic, it all flew through my mind. But the Spirit of the Lord was so evident and present, I decided to stand as part of the "little c" catholic, meaning inclusive...and using as my text Paul's words to the church in Corinth
 

1 Corinthians 2:2For I determined not to know anything among you except Jesus Christ and Him crucified.

As more folks came in and greeted one another, I wisely decided I should not be in the third row in a service style that I was not very familiar with in English, much less Greek, so I gathered my backpack and cane and moved about halfway back. Over the next few minutes about 40 folks gathered including a row or two of some of the folks from the Louisiana choir. They filed into the first couple of rows all dressed in black, which surprised me at first until I realized they were dressed for the Opera Gala performance scheduled later that evening. 😄

The bells rang again and the service started--all in Greek. There were lay readers, even women(!) and song leaders from the congregation. I could recognize the cadence of the Lord's Prayer and I'm pretty sure I spotted the Apostle's Creed. I wish I could have understood the priest's homily because, he spoke so sincerely and the people around me seemed very focused on him. 

My mind wandered and I spent a little time dredging up my Latin to translate a little of the gravestone in the isle--someone who died in 1834.

"Blessed are those who die in the Lord" was pretty much all I could do other than a few words here and there.

During the greeting time, or Passing the Peace maybe it is called, several people made a point to come to greet me, most shaking hands and a couple kissing me cheek to cheek. With the three nuns in attendance, my head covering felt right at home!

Then it was time for communion, which I did not participate in, but the song that was sung as the folks went forward was to the tune of "Michael Row Your Boat Ashore" so I hum-harmonized along and joined in on the Alleluias at the end of each phrase. The little old man in front of me turned and smiled and touched my hand. 

At the back of the church I joined file with the Louisiana folks, who were surprised to see me there, I think. It made we wonder who I might be surprised to see in heaven? 😎 

At the door, as we went out, a woman was handing out individually wrapped cookies. Someone ahead of me mentioned euros, maybe wondering if they were for sale, and the enthusiastic, "No, no, please take," came as the reply. So I did! Kind of an apple filled sweet dough--made me think of the apple fried pies passed around in some Amish circles. Maybe we really are all more alike than we are different!

I asked the priest if he spoke English, and he smiled, but said, "No, sorry." I said, "I wish I could tell you how much it meant for me to be included in your service this evening." A lady to the side of me said, "I will tell him." And she did and he took my hand again and Blessed Me, I think. 

After a day by myself, I really appreciated being snuggled into the Louisiana group for the trip down all the steps and the steep hill. At the corner, they went straight on to the Concert Hall and I turned left to head back to my hotel.  I would hear the Opera Gala in Athens next week. I thought maybe once would be enough. 😉

I often say that, while some times I think, "oh, I think I'll stay home from church--I'm too tired" or "I think I might have a headache" or whatever other excuse I can find, I have found that I am never sorry to be there once I give in and go. I never go and then think to myself that I should have stayed home. I am so thankful for the nudge that kept me from turning down the home stretch, but moved me up the hill and into the presence of the Lord with His people. What a perfect way to end my time in Syros!

I stopped at the store for a couple of pieces of fruit...

...stopped at the little cafe across from the hotel for a gyro to go and watched the evening slip away from the balcony of our hotel room. 

Tomorrow we would be off on the ferry back to Athens. Adventures awaited. I was packed and ready to go!