Easter

By Volodymyr Kish

Іt is Easter Sunday, and a beautiful one at that.  After an unpredictable winter that stretched well into April, spring has come with all its glory; warming earth, sky and weather-beaten souls as well.  The tulips have burst up through the ground and unveiled themselves in beautiful shades of colour, while the magnolia tree in my front yard is resplendent in its spring burst of white blossoms.

It was still dark when I arose to prepare myself for the Easter Service, which for some theological reason that I have yet to discover, the Orthodox powers that be have declared it should start at 5:30 am.  I am sure it must be beneficial for my spiritual well-being, though my corporeal self which has now passed its sixth decade, does protest somewhat.  I am led to assume that God, being the perfect Being that He is, does not sleep, and on major feast days like this, He may be impatient to see his flock.  However, that too would be an erroneous assumption, as being perfect, God cannot ever be afflicted with something as human as impatience.  As with many things that pertain to faith and religion, I guess I must just accept it as it is.  My rational powers are feeble in the face of religious mysteries.

Be that as it may, there I was at 5:30 am., with dawn just starting to break on Oshawa’s eastern horizon, marching in procession three times around the Ukrainian Orthodox Church of St. John the Baptist, as Easter chants resonated through the church yard and the redolent smell of incense filled the still fresh morning air. As always on such occasions, I was reminded of the fact that my ancestors had been engaging in this exact same ritual for the better part of the last thousand years. 

Aside from the last couple of generations, I know very little about ancestors - who they were as individuals, what opinions they had, what hopes, what dreams.  They were until recent times unlettered and illiterate and left no biographies or personal histories.  I do, however, know exactly what they did every Easter, or Christmas, or any of the major feast days and holidays that were the seasonal markers of their lives.  I know this because they left a rich trove of traditions, rituals and cultural artefacts that reflected their values and their beliefs.  The Easter Service is part of this cultural legacy.

As the service wound through what seemed an endless procession of prayers, antiphons, litanies, tropars, and hymns of various kinds, I cannot help but admit that I found my mind imagining what a similar service might have been like in the time of my namesake, Volodymyr the Great.  Or perhaps, some centuries later when one of my progenitors stood in that little wooden church in Potelych, wondering if the spring would not only bring good weather but also those dreaded Tatars who would from time to time descend mercilessly upon western Ukraine to raid and plunder.  No doubt, in those days, a prayer entreating God to protect them from the Tatars was a regular part of the service, though one that has obviously not been carried through to modern times.

Eventually, the Easter Service culminates in the serving of Communion, and following closing prayers and blessings, the church, which during the course of the Service has becomes increasingly more filled and crowded, starts emptying as the parishioners fetch their Easter baskets and put them on display in the church yard.

The more solemn part of Easter Sunday has passed and the parishioners are in a joyful and convivial mood, as greetings, kisses and hearty exchanges of “Khrystos Voskres!” abound.  The rich array of Easter baskets is a delight to both eye and appetite, as Father Bohdan Hladio makes the rounds energetically sprinkling Holy Water on all the baskets as well as more than a few parishioners, particularly those who most try to avoid getting a little wet.

The crowds disperse and I wind my way back home, where we gather around the table and partake of the newly blessed foods – a fine and tasty array of eggs, cheese, ham, kovbassa, horseradish, Paska Easter bread and butter.  This traditional fare is accompanied by a more modern addition of some fine Canadian champagne, something I am sure my ancestors would not have been able to enjoy, so I drink a toast in their honour.

I hope that the coming year, in the true spirit of Easter, brings new life and hope to all our lives.

Khrystos Voskres!