Last Days in Plaka by Henriette Lazaridis

Author:Henriette Lazaridis
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pegasus Books
Published: 2024-04-09T00:00:00+00:00

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Before they could begin the study of Revelation, however, the congregation and their priest had to conclude their preparation for the Assumption of Mary, which was now only three days away. On the day of the Assumption itself, the little church’s stubby nave would be packed wall to iconed wall with celebrants, for every Greek in Plaka and many Greeks in other neighborhoods whose churches were not as old or as pretty or located in so dramatic a setting would make Plaka the site of one of their two yearly visits to a church, the other being midnight mass at Easter. Tourists who happened by during the service would add themselves to the throng, and some, to the chagrin of most of the Greeks in attendance, would chime in with what they thought were the proper vowel sounds as the priest and the cantor—brought in special for the holy day—sang the mass. Irini was on guard for this behavior and was known to press a finger to her lips and let out a sharp hiss to shush a tourist.

There had been, of course, plenty of years when Irini had not attended church on the Assumption. She and her husband had often spent the holiday on Hydra, and they had preferred to align themselves with what felt new and outward-looking. This meant leaving church celebrations to the old women of the island or to the younger locals of a certain class. It had been a given then that educated people could not be believers, or if they were believers, they adopted a rather casual attitude toward the rituals of the church itself. Irini had worn a cross around her neck even in those days, but she did not make the sign of the cross upon embarking on a journey or at the start of a meal and she viewed August 15 as a day to be away on holiday, nothing more. Even once she had begun attending the church with the stubby nave after having made her promise to the God she didn’t trust, Irini made a point of exercising her freedom on that day in the religious calendar. If it was raining—which sometimes happened even in Athens in August—she might stay home. Or she would walk the perimeter of the Acropolis, past the ancient theater, to the cave where Socrates had drunk his poison, and past the Agora and back again. As she walked, not minding the rain, she savored the dusty scent of moistened earth that smelled in Athens like nowhere else she had ever been—though she had not been to that many different places. If she saw a crowd already spilling out of the church as she arrived for the service, she would turn back home. She had made her promise to her God, but she could only continue to keep it if she exercised these capricious independences from time to time.

This year, she had a feeling as the 15th approached that she would not attend. She had read enough, thanks to the priest’s photocopy, perhaps too much.

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