I like going to the Greek church with my dad every year, which surprises people who know me but shouldn’t surprise anyone who really does. I like the moment the lights go out and the old is extinguished and the new is brought out, and the slow progress of candlelight through the church. I like symbolism even if the deeper meaning isn’t ultimately mine.
I like the sounds of the cantor, and the arch of the priest’s eyebrows as he reads the Epistle of St. John, and the stiff, nervous altar boys as they progress through the church with the sacrament. I like singing the Christos Anesti bit, even though it’s all phonetic, and I like seeing the origins of language in the words, like cosmos and photos and necron. I’m not crazy about the standing parts I confess but since a few Alexander lessons have lodged under my belt it’s an interesting time to practice.
I like, most of all, being there with my dad. I hope it’s not terrible to anyone that I don’t say the Nicene Creed or the Lord’s Prayer anymore because they feel so sacred, and personal, so meaningful if you’re saying them right. I follow along with the Greek, recognizing the letters and recognizing my heritage and I hope that’s alright.
Happy easter to anyone who’s celebrating today. Let’s all eat of meat! That part I’m wholly behind.

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