In the summer of 2010, one of the English teachers that I regularly work with married the Religious Studies teacher who also works at my high school. He and I happen to share classroom walls on the first floor of our school building. This is great for me because if I ever need anything he is happy to help. Though on the flip side this is probably bad for him because my students tend to get rowdy during our English activities and are not exactly quiet. As a result of my close working relationship with his wife and my close working proximity to him they have taking a liking to me and invited me to spend a day with them at church and touring around their family’s village.
Last summer my Religious Studies comrade became a Priest and was assigned to a church in the nearby community of Sălciile. Things work a little differently in the Eastern Orthodox faith than the main religions I am used to in the United States. For example, Priests are allowed to marry, provided they have made the decision to do so before being ordained. Since I had yet to witness a church ceremony in Romania, I jumped on the opportunity when they invited me.
It was no easy task getting up at six in the morning on a Sunday, nor was it easy hailing down a maxi-taxi shortly thereafter. The worst part however was the cold; the mercury had dipped below freezing that night and I was on the road well before the sun had crested to warm me up. With several long waits in the cold morning air, even my long underwear was no match. All of this probably wouldn’t have been so bad, but the small church in which my colleague serves is not heated either. Did I mention the service was three hours?
Despite my cold bones the slujbă (service) was remarkable. Besides the length of the service, there were a few differences that stood out right away. First, the decorations of the church are more elaborate than those I have seen in the US, not to mention that the church was probably much older. There are scenes from the bible painted all around, on every inch of visible surface available. In visiting a few churches since arriving here, I would say that the scenes depicted are largely consistent from one church to another. The only pictorial that I have seen several times but know nothing about is always at the back of the church and must be representative of Mother Mary’s death in the New Testament, but don’t quote me on that. Second, the “pulpit” that I am used to is typically just a raised platform for which the Priest can lay his notes, the bible or whatever on top of and preach from behind. Here the pulpit is a whole other room at the front of the church in which the Priest performs much of the service hidden from view. There are two swinging doors on either side of a curtained opening in the middle; everything is elaborately decorated. Even the Priest’s robe is exquisitely done. Thirdly, I was impressed with the singing or chanting that takes place during the service. Often times this is the Priest, but there are also others that have been clearly dedicated to the task but are not dressed in any particular church uniform. This reminds me of the Latin chants that can be heard in come religious ceremonies. Additionally, there is female/male segregation, loosely enforced, where men are expected to sit on the right side and women on the left. Also there were no pews or church benches to sit on, only modular stools and tall chairs mounted against the wall.
As an added bonus, I was present to witness a botez (baptism) that took place immediately following the church worship. A whole other blog post in and of itself, I will sum it up quickly here. As you might imagine the whole family was in attendance, with the Naș (Godparents) taking the primary role. The Priest read several passages from the bible, proceeded with more chanting and …. passionately dunked the young child into a huge caldron of blessed warm water. Afterwards, Grandma handed out small pastries to everyone and the Mother pinned a ribbon to each witness (including me), symbol of health and long life.
Afterwards, my friends invited me to stop by several of their family’s houses in town. In each, we were welcomed with bright smiles and full sipping glasses of țuica. One such visit was that of a house belonging to friends of my colleagues who had just had a wedding the night before. Even though the wedding celebration had gone well into the night before, they were back to celebrating by early afternoon. Note the photograph of the person in a wheelbarrow; apparently a custom where one family member has to wheel an in-law out of the house’s garden.
The day ended at my English teacher colleague’s father’s house on the hill overlooking Valea Călugărească. A full meal was prepared and the homemade wine was brought out. The discussion was lively around the dinner table; thankfully I had my counterpart there to translate her father’s rapid-fire questions about American politics and decisions regarding our involvement in recent wars. Being that his house is somewhat remote without mass transportation between the two of us, I will have to wait until spring before biking back up the hill for another debate, but can’t wait.
From early in the morning to late into the night there was plenty of Peace Corps goals one and two being accomplished with tons of cultural exchange. Some new allies were made in the community from which new project ideas are starting to develop. Another sign that things are going well for me in Peace Corps Romania.
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