Jeff—Saturday
This weekend marks three celebratory events. Traditionally, May 1st ends the hunker down winter mindset on Mykonos, and harbingers the coming joyful days of summer—and still does, even though Covid times leave a bit more hunkering down left to do. Do you remember your childhood days dancing around the maypole and crowning the Queen of the May? You probably do if you’re British, probably not if you were raised in the U.S.
This rejoicing for the change of seasons goes back to ancient pagan days and virtually all northern hemisphere cultures had some sort of “spring rite” festivities. The earliest festivals were linked to the Roman goddess of flowers (Flora), Germanic celebrations of what is now called Walpurgis Night (named after the patron saint of those suffering from rabies, it’s also known as “the witches sabbath” coming precisely six months after All Hallows Eve—interesting combination), and the Celtic Beltane (a springtime festival of optimism).
On Mykonos locals take great pride in fashioning circular wreaths out of grape vines tied off with bunches of wildflowers (aloe, statice, geraniums, daises, lavender, and the like), angelica, olive, rosemary, wheat, bay leaf, and for some, whole cloves of garlic. They’re quite beautiful and for those wreaths proudly hung on front doors which survive another Mykonian tradition—wreath heisting by neighborhood children—they’re burned on the day of the Summer Solstice (June 22nd) as the adventuresome jump over the flames three times making a wish as they do…probably not to burn off their you-know-whats in the process.
May 1st also marks International Worker’s Day. If you live virtually anywhere outside of the U.S. you probably know that. Inside, likely not. The U.S. has stuck to the first Monday in September as its Labor Day and Americans generally associate May 1st with a communist or socialist workers holiday, complete with grandiose military parades in such places as Russia, North Korea, and Cuba.
I’d venture to say most Americans have no idea that International Worker’s Day is officially celebrated in most countries around the world not to glorify any foreign ideal or event, but to mark what occurred in Chicago, Illinois on May 4, 1888. Permit me to lift the following description of what happened from Wikipedia’s entry, “The Haymarket Affair.”
“The Haymarket affair (also known as the Haymarket massacre or Haymarket riot) refers to the aftermath of a bombing that took place at a labor demonstration on Tuesday May 4, 1886, at Haymarket Square in Chicago. It began as a peaceful rally in support of workers striking for an eight-hour day. An unknown person threw a dynamite bomb at police as they acted to disperse the public meeting. The bomb blast and ensuing gunfire resulted in the deaths of seven police officers and at least four civilians, and the wounding of scores of others.
“In the internationally publicized legal proceedings that followed, eight anarchists were convicted of conspiracy, although the prosecution conceded none of the defendants had thrown the bomb. Seven were sentenced to death and one to a term of 15 years in prison. The death sentences of two of the defendants were commuted by Illinois governor Richard J. Oglesby to terms of life in prison, and another committed suicide in jail rather than face the gallows. The other four were hanged on November 11, 1887. In 1893, Illinois’ new governor John Peter Altgeld pardoned the remaining defendants and criticized the trial.
“The Haymarket affair is generally considered significant as the origin of international May Day observances for workers. The site of the incident was designated a Chicago Landmark on March 25, 1992, and a public sculpture was dedicated at the site in 2004. The Haymarket Martyrs’ Monument in nearby Forest Park was listed on the National Register of Historic Places and designated a National Historic Landmark on February 18, 1997.”
And now we come to THE most significant celebration being observed by Greeks all over the globe this weekend.
Tomorrow is Easter, by far the main event in Orthodoxy. It is preceded by more than a week of significant religious and cultural observations, curtailed again this year somewhat by the constraints of our times. But allow me to take you back to pre-pandemic days on Mykonos, as a guide to a much prayed for return to the future.
In the winter, Mykonos is a sleepy island village with virtually no tourists, no business, few open bars, fewer restaurants, and no clubs. But come Easter Week everything changes. Red and yellow springtime poppies burst to life all over the island’s hillsides, and those and still more varieties of flowers embroider the blanket of green covering the nearby holy island of Delos. There are Church services every day of Holy Week, as well as daily preparations for the feast to come at the end. Breads and cookies are readied on Monday and Tuesday, baking is done on Wednesday, and eggs are dyed red on Thursday, the day before Christ was put up on the Cross.
By Thursday, Mykonos is filled with mainland Greeks flocking to their vacation homes and others looking to participate in a perfect example of spiritual and temporal coexistence: Easter church rituals strictly observed during the day, followed by the island’s as nearly hallowed party traditions through the night. But that taste of the coming mid-summer craziness is short lived, for if you don’t catch the action that weekend come by in June, because Mykonos is back in relative hibernation until the tourists stream back to the island.
Evening services on Good Friday start at seven in the old town’s three main churches, Kiriake, Metropolis, and Panachra. At precisely nine, each church’s clergy and worshipers leave their church in separate processions carrying their church’s epitaphios (the painted or embroidered cloth representation of Christ on a bier elaborately adorned in spring flowers and symbolizing his tomb) along a prearranged route, winding past the other two churches before ending up back at their own to complete the service. It represents the funeral of Christ, and Mykonians and visitors line the route, some standing on balconies and sprinkling the participants below with a mixture of rose water and perfumes, the rodhonoro used on Christ’s body when taken down from the cross.
The same three churches serve as the scene of the following night’s Holy Saturday services. Most generally start heading off to church around ten, but for certain everyone is there by midnight. For that is the high point of Easter, when church bells ring out across Greece and even total strangers exchange the traditional Christos Anesti and Alithos Anesti greetings that Christ has risen, kiss each other, and light each other’s candles to share the light and joy of the occasion—a light brought to Greece for just this purpose from the Holy Flame of Christ’s nativity cave in Jerusalem. Worshipers carry the light back into their homes or their favorite restaurants, except for the hearty souls who remain in church for the balance of a service that lasts hours more into the morning.
Now it is time to challenge each other with the customary one-to-one smacking of those dyed-red eggs for good luck to the winner (mine always cracks first) and devour the traditional mayiritsa soup (made from parts of a lamb you may ask me about if you really want to know), fluffy tsoureki easter bread, and salads to break the forty-day fast leading up to Easter.
But the big feast, the one everyone looks forward to, comes on Sunday. That’s when all the work of the week and all the spring lambs find their purpose. There is church, too, of course, but this day is more about celebrating with family and friends. And eating.
But what makes this Easter so special for Barbara and me--isolated as we are in the US for a second Greek Easter--is that her sons are flying in to join us. It will be the first time we've seen them in 17 months -- and they're bringing their own lamb!!
Dieting starts Monday. Kalo Paska, God Bless, and STAY SAFE.
—Jeff
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