The Greek community of Portland is large, diverse and successful in human terms; it casts a long shadow, even to the steps of city hall, the houses of Congress, and the White House (especially in the days of the late Father Elias Stephanopoulos, uncle of George, who was a Clinton era insider).
On the 25th we observed the feast day of the Annunciation, in Greek, "Evangelismós" (the announcing of the Good News, the "Evangelion"). There were services, and afterwards, a gathering at City Hall, where the mayor read the proclamation of Greek Independence Day, some other speakers sounded off, and the public was treated to Greek folk dance performances. I was unable to attend any of these events. Instead, I attended the regular Sunday services of the 26th which have the theme of the Cross of Jesus Christ, after which I attended a luncheon in honor of Greek independence, a sort of repeat for the community at large, since many of us could not attend on the actual day. This is how it is with us. We call it "ikonomía" which loosely translated means "making do". If the rules seem to prevent what they're supposed to promote, we bend them a bit. "…so the Son of Man is master even of the Sabbath." (Mark 2:28)
I've found in my middle age that my heart lies very close to the surface. Is it because I've finally learned to really listen to what I'm hearing, reading, or saying? It doesn't take much to get my eyes watery anymore. I'm not ashamed of this, but sometimes a little embarrassed (for them) when I'm with someone who's not used to it. In his novel "Till We Have Faces," C. S. Lewis writes parenthetically, describing a barbarian king's Greek tutor, "Greek men cry as easily as women." But then, he wasn't talking about crying from being physically hurt, or from fear. When your heart has been emptied so completely by sorrow for your sins and the sins of others, doesn't the Lord fill it with the tenderness of His mercy, and so fully that it has nowhere to spill, except through your eyes' tears?
Flashback to the luncheon: The three dozen or so Greek dancers, led by two boys carrying side by side the Stars & Stripes and the Cross & Stripes, processed into the hall. People stayed sitting. I could do nothing myself but stand up, and soon everyone else did the same. I am not a patriot, but when I saw those two striped flags, my heart leapt up before the millions of heroic souls to do them honor, and my body just followed. I didn't know their names, but I knew I was able to stand because they sacrificed everything for me, just as Jesus Christ did. Am I getting emotional? I don't think so. The Truth is the Truth. After the flag bearers reached the podium, led by our young "proistámenos" (senior pastor) we began to sing "The Star Spangled Banner" à capella. Everyone was with it, and on key. Sorry, folks, but my voice died away a little past the half-way point. I simply cannot sing this anthem anymore without crying. I saw their faces passing before me, and their heroic lives, in an overload of living imagery that surged into my heart from somewhere outside, and then surged back out again. My usual annoyingly fervent singing voice just sank to a whisper. "Deep is calling to deep as your cataracts roar; all your waves, your breakers, have rolled over me." (Psalm 42:7)
The Greek national anthem was sung (unfortunately I don't have it memorized!) and I just stayed standing very still, soaking in the love of the people around me who were singing this song about the love of true freedom, "elefthería" as bestowed on us by Christ, who said "You will learn the Truth, and the Truth will make you free." (John 8:32)
Next, a couple of elders in the community spoke briefly about the occasion, and its meaning for people today. This can be quite dry and academic, but not in their case. The second speaker summarized the spiritual history of the Greek people from their ancient beginnings up to the revolution of 1821 which eventually secured their independence from the Turks. The negative experience of the Greeks was minimized and their positive contribution to Western democracy and civilization emphasized, which was a good thing. He closed his 6 minute long address with the exhortation that we must continue to live our lives as Hellenes and Philhellenes (Greeks by birth and by adoption) and as Orthodox Christians, especially in this time and place, when almost everything we hold true is under attack, or soon will be. Here is this island of people who still live and act (when we are together) as the early Christians, who consider themselves the same people, and who live out the truth that "Jesus Christ is the same today as he was yesterday and as he will be for ever." (Hebrews 13:8)
Then came the Greek dancing. For those who don't know, this is NOT belly-dancing, as you might see in some of the Greek restaurants who do this kind of thing (which is a left-over from the days of Turkish rule). Greek dancing can be done solo, as you can see in some films with Greek themes, but essentially it's a group experience. The kids doing the performances at the luncheon ranged in age from about 6 to 20, and they all danced very well. They are a kind of testimony to the staying power of Hellenism. The dance with us is a spiritual, but not a religious, experience. It's a way of expressing our "bodily" fellowship with Jesus Christ who is alive and dwelling in our midst. Though the dancers be beautiful, their dancing is chaste. Though they are unbreakably tight, arms overlapping and resting on each others' shoulders, their feet working out a sometimes complex pattern, their whole bodies being tugged rhythmically forward and then taking a half-step back like the retrograde orbits of the planets, they are dancing as angels before the Lord, conscious of nothing but each others' joy in the dance, instinctively recognizing that the "Lord of the Dance" is among them, and that in another sense, they have His world as their dance floor. HIS world, mind you, not THIS world. And this brings me to my last comment.
The second speaker exhorted us to persevere in our Hellenic and Christian civilization, even here in America. From outward appearances, at the services and at the luncheon it does appear that we are doing that, and successfully. As a member of this community for eighteen years, one can say I have "seen it all." Even now, there are unresolved conflicts among us that cry out for loving ministry, there are hearts yearning to serve, to give all for Christ, and yet "the Church" seems somehow stifled in manifesting the "Christ among us" that we experience (when we are together) not only to the world outside, but also to those Christians among us who are estranged from each other, in our homes, in our extended families. We have the anomaly in this community, as have all churches of Christ, of the co-existence of two churches, really, under the single "visible" body of believers. Sergei Fudel, in his book "Light in the Darkness" calls this other the "dark double of the Church." It is also described in the great English classic, John Bunyan's "The Pilgrim's Progress," in these (archaic) words: "Neither will it out of my mind, but that that man that takes up Religion for the world, will throw away Religion for the world; for so surely as Judas designed the world in becoming religious: so surely did he also sell Religion, and his Master for the same." We must be quite clear to which kingdom we belong, to the Kingdom of Heaven, or to the kingdom of this world, which is no kingdom at all, but only a principality whose adherents are under a death warrant. Let's not take up "religion" for the world, because when that which is hidden will be revealed, we will throw away this pretended "religion" for the world. Do you see, my brothers, the enticements to apostatize to Islam (surrender to a false god) are not only "history." They are here and now. Despite our apparent "religion," whom do we serve? "No man can be the slave of two masters…" (Matthew 6:24)
"Soon I shall be with you: hold firmly to what you already have, and let nobody take your prize away from you." (Revelation 3:11)
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