As I crawled under a warm blanket to sleep for an hour at the most, I regretted my Greek heri-tage. My South African peers were tucked in bed. They had probably already enjoyed their chocolate eggs, maybe even a month or so earlier. Easter was a distant memory for them. I, however, had to get up at about 10pm to attend Greek Easter at our local church.
The Cathedral of St Constantine and St Helen is in Wolmarans Street, Joubert Park. It was the first Greek Orthodox church built in Johannesburg, in about 1912. Some say it cannot be moved. Some say it will become a museum. Some say it will not move as it is still attended and supported as a church. The last time I was there, I attended a funeral where the priest implored congregants to support his church in downtown Johannesburg: ‘God will look after your cars and you will be safe if you believe.”
It is my favourite Greek Orthodox church. Containing extraordinary icons, it is a place where immigrant families first celebrated Greek traditions at the tip of Africa. Cafés were closed and Greek Easter was celebrated at a date decided by the Julian calendar.
It was this church that my family and I attended when I was growing up. Greek Easter was irresistibly spectacular — especially for the Joubert Park flatland residents. On Good Friday, a dramatically attired, bejewelled Greek priest led his congregation around the block with the funeral bier of Jesus Christ, which had been lovingly prepared with fresh flowers by the women of the church.
People watched from their balconies — and still do today. But observing from above the more dramatic Saturday night service may have proved dangerous. I remember when the Resurrection was announced at midnight, many gun-wielding Greek macho men (we referred to them as ‘imports”) furiously fired shots into the Joubert Park sky in celebration of ‘new life”. It all stopped when someone was hurt.
But back to today. This year, Jesus will rise from the dead in the Greek Orthodox Church on April 23. Many congregants attend the service at about 11pm on Saturday. It is usually at the start of winter and there are many cold congregants wrapped up and huddled in the garden of a Greek Orthodox Church, holding unlit candles in gloved hands. A few minutes before midnight the priest, or pater, will leave the church, enter the garden carrying a gold incense burner and lead his congregation in a beautiful song celebrating the Resurrection of Christ. A flame is passed on to light the candles of all congregants. People kiss and share blessings with the words: ‘Christos anesti … Alithos anesti [Christ has risen … Truly he has risen]”.
Most congregants know that they should stay till the end of the service in the early hours of the morning but some flee home hurriedly, impatient to break the 50-day fast (during which no meat is to be eaten — a reminder that we eat to live; not live to eat). People then protectively carry a candle considered the light of the Resurrection into their homes.
In the early hours of the morning a beautifully laid table is brought to life. The candles are lit and soup is heated. Delicious food awaits. But first it is time to choose a hard-boiled egg, dyed red to represent the sacrificial blood of the lamb. Competitions commence as each tries to crack the others’ shells in pursuit of the strongest.
The breaking of the fast is gentle. There is a dish called magaritsa — a broth bearing the heart and liver of the lamb, roasted on a spit, that will be devoured at lunch. Yet another soup is my favourite: avgolemoni, which is a chicken soup infused with plenty of lemon. Then it’s time for flaounes — delicious Greek Cypriot cheese pies with mint and sultanas, sprinkled with sesame seeds. Better known are the tsoureki, a delicious, flat, sweet bread embedded with red eggs.
As the warmth of family and community life is celebrated, braving the cold is not so bad.