A student’s journey through Romanian Orthodox Easter
Margaret Shaw
Washington International School
I’m a big fan of the “international experience.” It’s why I first applied to this school and it’s why I decided to host an ASSIST exchange student from Moldova, 11th grader Doina Chiselita, at my house for the second half of the school year. So when Doina began telling me about her Romanian Orthodox Easter traditions, it was immediately agreed that we would hold our own little Orthodox Easter here in DC.
I come from a completely non-religious family. In other words I haven’t been to church since baptism. Having gone to Catholic school, though, I know all the major principles of Christianity and Church history, so I had something to compare this experience with. I did not, however, know anything
about the Eastern Orthodox Church, let alone the Romanian Orthodox Church. After some research,
I found out that the Eastern Orthodox Church is divided into a number of autocephalous churches, meaning that they are governed by their own bishop or council of bishops.
These groups are usually based in one country or region, and are often divided into smaller sections themselves. The only time these churches really interact with one another is when, at least twice a year, all of the bishops of these churches gather to discuss the state of affairs, although their actions usually don’t affect the entire Church.
There are 14 of these autocephalous churches, one of them being the Romanian Orthodox Church. The main distinguishing factor is that the service is entirely in Romanian, but, because the Romanians never had Christianity imposed on them but instead independently changed, there are still many remnants of ancient pagan practices and traditions.
With that learned I felt prepared for the most infamous of Pastele practices: the fasting. It is traditional, Doina told me, to fast for the 40 days of Lent by essentially going vegan, meaning no meat, dairy, or eggs.
In modern days, however, many of Doina’s friends and family from her home country of Moldova abbreviate that time to a week or two before Easter, but just as many fast for the whole time. “As I have been taught [fasting] doesn’t have to be an imposed thing, like something you have to do for the sake of being Christian…Lent is something deeply spiritual and while you’re fasting you have to try to concentrate more on your spiritual needs, to think on your own actions and try to be better…it is a very personal experience,” remarked Doina.
Doina and I decided that we would be fasting the week before Easter. I began trying to find vegan recipes because I had no clue how it was even possible to eat without animal products, but I found out that it wasn’t as hard as I expected. During that time I felt as if I was purifying myself and I never felt tempted to break the fast. Going vegan wasn’t what I had expected either; as it turns out I had made it too complicated. I expected it to be a complicated balancing act of preparing offbeat foods, trying to get in protein and nutrients, but Doina showed me some of what her grandmother would make during fasting.
The recipes were simple, just vegetables like cabbage or potatoes, or maybe some rice with oil and peppers, but though they were simple, they somehow tasted so good. I was stunned. It didn’t mean fasting wasn’t work though. Instead of plopping together a sandwich for lunch or being lazy and deciding to buy, cooking had to be done for every meal. It was like I was in a time warp: gone was the world of instant gratification, and now I actually knew where my food came from and how it was made.
While cooking, Doina told me of collecting eggs at her grandmother’s farm or getting milk straight from the neighbor’s cows. In a strange way this was also very purifying, because as the food was simple and microwaves went untouched, life seemed more simple and my physical needs took second place to my spiritual ones.
On Saturday, Doina and I got up bright and early and took the bus to the grocery store. We came home exhausted from carrying heavy bags of food on our backs, but we went to work. It was like something out of “I Love Lucy:” Doina on the phone to Moldova with her mother, godmother and grandmother giving her different instructions all at the same time, then Doina giving me orders about what to chop, what ingredients to get out. We cooked all day, even calling the alarm company to get them to turn off the fire alarm in the kitchen until 11 PM so it wouldn’t go off while we were cooking.
At midnight, my mother drove us to a Romanian Orthodox Church in Alexandria, the only one in the area, where a mass of people were standing outside holding candles. The priest was giving some sort of speech, and when it was finished we processed around the tiny church along the highway. We then went inside to start the mass. The paintings on the wall were nothing like I had ever seen before. There were the apostles on a backdrop of light blue, and icons of saints continuing onto the ceiling. Doina said that the churches are usually bigger and even more beautiful, but this was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen.
The entire service was in Romanian, mostly sung by men parishioners at the front. Everyone was standing up, because, though there were chairs at this Church, most Orthodox Churches don’t have any. The service went in three cycles, each finishing with the priest walking around with incense, a certain song and a call and response of “Hristos a inviat: Adeverat ca inviat!,” or “Christ is risen: He is risen indeed!”
We then went to get rose oil on our head and a blessing by the priest, and those who had gone to confession were given a golden spoon of honey mixed with wine to represent the body and blood of Christ. A basket of small portions of our Easter meal was blessed with holy water, which we would then divide for everyone and eat before the meal to break the fast.
Though I couldn’t understand a word, I felt extremely happy and contented. And though I had been on my feet all day, the three hours standing up didn’t make me tired, but instead refreshed me. It was a strange phenomenon for me, but it was that moment I understood what Doina meant.
“It makes you happy inside,” she said. “If you get to experience that it’s amazing.”
We went home and went to bed. I love this aspect of the process, because when you go to sleep after a midnight mass, rather than focusing on what you’ll eat that day or who is coming over to celebrate, you are completely calm and focused on what is happening in church.
That day the Martins, the family Doina stayed with for the first half of the year, came over. The table was laden with traditional foods: jellied chicken, beet salads, rice and pork wrapped in grape leaves and pie, a braided bread topped with feta cheese. I was stunned when, after having spent an exhausting day cooking, Doina said that her mother and grandmother usually made more than this.
Also on the table were hard-boiled eggs dyed red. With these there was a little game, where each person would go around the table “earning their eggs” by smashing the other person’s egg with their own. At that moment it was the same as any Easter I’ve celebrated: a joyful celebration with family and friends.
This Easter celebration is totally different from the other experiences I have had. I found myself connected with a spirituality I never knew I had, experiencing traditions that had been practiced for centuries.
Many Americans aren’t religious and the nature of America is “what’s new, what’s better, what’s fast.” This is what many fall in love with about this country: the freedom to separate oneself from religion and tradition. I think it would be a good idea however for more Americans to experience a process of spirituality and tradition at least once.