Saturday, January 5, 2013

Eureka, Epiphany!



According to Wikipedia (yes, I admit to being an unabashed fan), “An epiphany (from the ancient Greek πιφάνεια, epiphaneia, ‘manifestation, striking appearance’) is an experience of sudden and striking realization.”

Having just sent the final edits of my latest Chief Inspector Andreas Kaldis’ novel off to my publisher for printing, I suppose I could use one of those for what will be Andreas’ next adventure.  But this is not about that sort of epiphany.

I’m talking about the holiday—which has the identical root in Greek—that for most Christians generally falls on January 6th (tomorrow) and concludes the Twelve Days of Christmas.  The Greeks usually refer to it as the “Feast of Theophany” (“God shining forth” or “divine manifestation”) or “Ta Fota” (“The Lights”) as it celebrates the baptism of Christ in what is one of the three Great Feast days of the year, ranking only behind Easter (Paska) and Pentecost.  Understandably, it is also a big day for baptisms.

In many parts of the world a Greek Orthodox priest performs the “Blessing of the Waters.”  Traditionally, it’s done twice: Once, on the eve of the Feast (generally at a baptismal font inside the church), and the next day at a river, sea, or lake, where at the end of the service a priest tosses the blessed cross into the water—launching a host of young men in after it in hopes of retrieving the cross and receiving a special blessing from the priest that will bring a year of good luck to the successful diver.

Epiphany is also the day for expelling kallikantzari from your home through a blessing from the priest and the sprinkling of Theophany blessed holy water. Kallikantzari are half-beast, half human, bad-spirited gremlins that try to slip into your house through a chimney to wreak havoc and mischief amid your home, livestock, and food between Christmas and Epiphany.  

During that twelve-day period virtually every Greek in one way or another engages in some superstitious practice—like wrapping a sprig of basil around a small wooden cross and suspending it over a bowl of water—and seeks a blessing from a priest.  Ultimately, the goal is to expel the kallikantzari before they can do serious damage, like saw through the huge tree on which rests the foundations of the world. 

Where the kallikantzari go for the rest of the year to do their harm is anybody’s guess.  Though from the way things are going in Greece these days, perhaps someone should think about checking out Parliament.

Happy New Year, everyone—especially our newest MIE contributors, Caro and Lisa.  All the best in 2013 and far, far beyond.

Jeff—Saturday

10 comments:

  1. Wonderful post, Jeff. I have a suggestion about the kallikantzari's off-season hiding place. In looks, they are not unlike the gnomes J. K. Rowling portrays as bankers. Few critters have a better track record of wrecking havoc with people's lives than do bankers. Perhaps the Gnome of Zurich is really a kallikantzari?

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  2. Perhaps, Annamaria, I'll bring one of them along to our MWA-NY meeting next week. After all, if anyone can figure out a proper hideout I'm betting on one of our devious minded mystery colleagues.

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  3. Gee, Jeff, I think you've 'exposed' yourself. That final picture of the 'kallikantzari', compared with your portrait on the blog, looks like a mirror image! Balding with a fringe of gray? Check. Sheepish grin of the guilty pretending innocence? Check. Dark, bedeviling eyes? Check. I think your secret identity is a bust, dear friend!

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    1. Who woulda thunk that when I was adding up all the reasons we'd be missing Tim as a regular contributor I'd overlook Reason Numero Uno: You would have to find someone else to abuse.

      I've never won anything in my life, so why did I suddenly get so lucky and win that lottery? At least you, Everett, had the decency not to get into tail tales.:)

      That will teach me to make light of kallikantzari...

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    2. Well, I can't very well pick on the newcomers, can I? That would just be rude.

      Of course, I can only cast stones because I live in a glass house... :-)

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    3. Okay, you're right. Living as I do in Greece, I'm used to flying stones. Just go easy on the Molotov cocktails, as the broken glass might cut my cloven feet.:)

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  4. I love the juxtaposition of superstition and religion. Your little guys remind of wicked little elves running around doing mischief everywhere.
    So, Happy New Year, and I am looking forward to the next Kaldis. Ah, pleasure.

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    1. Thanks, Lil, though some of the deeds those little elves are reputed to do are a bit ribald for PG programing. Then again, so is Kaldis:). Happy New Year to you, too.

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  5. The figurine looks like creatures in Norwegian folklore. In the years when we frequented Disney World, my daughter became fascinated by the Norwegian version that could be found at Epcot. She has a collection of them collecting dust in her old bedroom. Other children want the cute an cuddly; she wanted ugly things that are hard as a rock.

    Beth

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    1. Perhaps your daughter's approach prepared her better for the real world, Beth? If you expect ugly and hard, as opposed to cute and cuddly, you can never be disappointed. :)

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