My Greek Odyssey

Bitter Homage

2012-05-13T20:53:27-04:00

The Pontian Greeks lived along the Black Sea coast of Turkey in a region loosely referred to as Pontus by many scholars. They were descendants of Ionian Greeks who settled there, beginning in 800 B.C. Like other Christians in Turkey, the Armenians and Assyrians for example, the Pontic Greeks faced persecution and suffered during ethnic cleansing at the beginning of the 20th century. In 1923, after thousands of years, those remaining were expelled from Turkey to Greece as part of the exchange of populations between Greece and Turkey under Treaty of Lausanne. May 19 has been recognized by the Greek parliament as the day of remembrance of the Pontian Greek Genocide by the Turks. There are various estimates of the toll. Records kept mainly by priests show a minimum 350,000 Pontian Greeks exterminated through systematic slaughter by Turkish troops and Kurdish irregulars. Other estimates, including those of foreign missionaries, spoke of 500,000 deaths, most through deportation and forced marches into the Anatolian desert interior. Thriving Greek cities like Bafra, Samsous, Kerasous, and Trapezous, at the heart of Pontian Hellenism on the coast of the Black Sea, endured recurring massacres and deportations that eventually destroyed their Greek population. The genocide started with the order in 1914 for all Pontian men between the ages of 18 and 50 to report for military duty. Those who "refused" or "failed" to appear, the order provided, were to be summarily shot. The immediate result of this decree was the murder of thousands of the more...

Children

2012-05-10T23:12:45-04:00

Going Home

2012-05-10T10:01:14-04:00

By JOHN KASS Chicago Tribune RIZES, Greece – When I mention our family’s village in Greece, I usually write that Rizes is the most beautiful village in the universe. And it is. Your family’s village might also be the most beautiful. This is possible. I understand that. But this village is mine. The name means “roots,” and it nestles at the root of the mountain of Agios Elias, along a fertile plain in Arcadia, in the heart of the Peloponnesus, where tourists don’t go. When tourists tell me they’ve been to Greece, they often mean Athens and the islands and grilled octopus and ouzo and the beach. But there is no beach here. So tourists don’t go high up the mountain to the old monastery to see this: the sweet cherry trees in blossom, with their pale pink flowers. And within days, the sour cherries will pop. The potato plants are ready to sprout. The wheat is green in the fields. The apple trees are budding. At the monastery, I could hear the church bells ringing from down below and kids playing soccer in the square, their shouts echoing on the tiled roofs of the thick-walled houses, each one with a courtyard and grape arbor. And I thought of my family, my father and uncle and aunts and cousins and grandparents, and the generations upon generations reaching back to before recorded history. That’s when it happened. I didn’t see it coming. It started with nothing really, just a catch of...

CHRIST IS RISEN! ΧΡΙΣΤΟΣ ΑΝΕΣΤΗ - ΑΛΙΘΟΣ Ο ΚΥΡΙΟΣ

2012-04-14T23:59:00-04:00

My very best wishes to all my MGO friends and their families on this blessed Pascha. "Now upon the first day of the week, very early in the morning, they came unto the sepulchre, bringing the spices which they had prepared, and certain others with them. And they found the stone rolled away from the sepulchre. And they entered in, and found not the body of the Lord Jesus. And it came to pass, as they were much perplexed thereabout, behold, two men stood by them in shining garments: And as they were afraid, and bowed down their faces to the earth, they said unto them, Why seek ye the living among the dead? He is not here, but is risen." LUKE 24: 5-8 "Take part in this fair and radiant festival. Let no one be fearful of death, for the death of the Savior has set us free . . . O Death, where is thy sting? O Hades, where is Thy victory? Christ is Risen and Thou art overthrown. To Him be glory and power from all ages to all ages." From the Paschal Sermon of Saint John Chrysostom My kind of flash mob :) 12 Christ Is Risen The Evlogitaria of the Resurrection (Blessed art Thou, O Lord, teach me thy statutes) Why mingle ye myrrh with tears of pity, O ye women disciples? Thus the radiant angel within the tomb addressed the myrrh-bearing women. Behold the tomb and understand, for the Saviour has risen from the...

A Village Easter: Memories of Childhood By Alexandros Papadiamandis

2012-04-14T18:02:24-04:00

An Easter story by the "Dostoevsky of Greece:" Uncle Milios never spoke a truer word, when he said the good Christians living outside the town might end up having to celebrate Easter that year without a liturgy. In fact no prophecy was ever closer to fulfilment, for it almost came true twice — but happily God made the authorities see the light, and in the end the poor villagers, local shepherd-farmers, were judged worthy to hear the Word of God and eat the festive eggs. The cause of all this was the busy little coaster that (supposedly) linked those unhappy islands to the inhospitable shore opposite, and which twice a year, when the season changed in spring or autumn, would almost invari- ably sink, and as often as not take the whole crew down with it. They would then put the post of captain up for auction, and each time some poor wretch, undaunted by the fate of his predecessor, was found to undertake this most perilous task. And on this occasion, at the end of March, as winter was tak- ing its leave, the coaster had gone down again. The parish priest, Father Vangelis, who was also the abbot (and only monk) of the small monastic establishment of St. Athanasios, had been appointed by the bishop to take charge of the villages on the opposite shore. Though already an old man, he would take the boat across four times a year, during each of the main fasts,1 to hear...

Great Friday

2012-04-13T22:13:12-04:00

Orthodox Christian Byzantine Easter hymn at the Sepulcher church - Jerusalem

The Virgin's Pain - Nikos Xylouris

2012-04-13T09:56:00-04:00

ΟΙ ΠΟΝΟΙ ΤΗΣ ΠΑΝΑΓΙΑΣ Πού να σε κρύψω γιόκα μου να μη σε φτάνουν οι κακοί σε ποιο νησί του ωκεανού σε πια κορφή ερημική. Δε θα σε μάθω να μιλάς και τ' άδικο φωνάξεις ξέρω πως θα χεις την καρδιά τόσο καλή τόσο γλυκή που μες τα βρόχια της οργής ταχειά, ταχειά θε να σπαράξεις. Συ θα'χεις μάτια γαλανά θα 'χεις κορμάκι τρυφερό θα σε φυλάω από ματιά κακή και από κακό καιρό Από το πρώτο ξάφνιασμα της ξυπνημένης νιότης δεν είσαι συ για μάχητες δεν είσαι συ για το σταυρό εσύ νοικοκερόπουλο όχι σκλάβος, όχι σκλάβος ή προδότης Κι αν κάποτε τα φρένα σου το δίκιο φως της αστραπής κι αν η αλήθεια σου ζητήσουνε παιδάκι μου να μην τα πεις Θεριά οι ανθρώποι δεν μπορούν το φως να το σηκώσουν δεν είναι η αλήθεια πιο χρυσή απ' την αλήθεια της σιωπής χίλιες φορές να γεννηθείς τόσες, τόσες θα σε σταυρώσουν THE VIRGIN"S PAIN Where shall I hide you my son out of reach of the evil ones on what island in the ocean on what high deserted peak. I won't teach you how to speak and shout against injustice I know your heart so good, so sweet Caught in the rain of anger, quick and rapid heartbeats You will have eyes of blue a tender body I will protect you against the evil eye and bad seasons From the first fright of youth awakened you are not a fighter nor are you for the cross You are...

The Hymn of Kassiani

2012-04-11T10:51:12-04:00

O Lord God, the woman who had fallen into many sins having perceived Thy divinity received the rank of ointment-bearer offering Thee spices before Thy burial wailing and crying: Woe is me, for the love of adultery and sin hath given me a dark and lightless night; accept the fountains of my tears O Thou Who drawest the waters the waters of the sea by the clouds incline Thou to the sigh of my heart O Thou Who didst bend the heavens by Thine inapprehensible condescension; I will kiss Thy pure feet and I will wipe them with my tresses I will kiss Thy feet Whose tread when it fell on the ears of Eve in Paradise dismayed her so that she did hide herself because of fear; who then shall examine the multitude of my sin and the depth of Thy judgment? Wherefore, O my Saviour and the Deliverer of my soul turn not away from Thy handmaiden O Thou of boundless mercy. Hymn of Kassiani in English

The Bridegroom Cometh

2012-04-08T20:37:50-04:00

Orthodox- Alleluias of Holy Week and Behold the Bridegroom Cometh (English) Sung by the Boston Byzantine Choir directed by Charles Marge

The Visit of Christ

2012-04-08T15:13:35-04:00

All those who are baptized in Christ have put on Christ

Odyssey of the Displaced

2012-03-24T12:38:23-04:00

By Chris Georgallis Ten to three am, ticked the clock Time for sleep, not for prose, Thoughts flapping in the wind, held fast by will, but mostly, letting slip a page of dreams and desires, which seem to ever ascend away, without even a polite goodbye! What am I ? Have i lived the life written, or am i writing it as i go? Deep thoughts searching upward to the throne of my All-knowing , Father! Sad thoughts , regrets and frustrations, dragging me down to my mother's feet, where the tears mix with the mud and give me eyes which see again, and so the cycle continues! My heart cries to belong. My life defies this longing, i am set to be a wanderer, forever searching and seeking to return to her that bore me. Not a mother of flesh and bone, but the rich soil from which my line was born. Britannia, gave me weight, colour and hue, but.... Venus, Aphrodite's Isle, is where my roots find their rest. My spirit, is not earth bound, but my feet... are of the clay of men, and the soil calls me, it presses me to return to where it all began. Cyprus... my land? Am i wanted? Do i belong? Perhaps, London is a closer call ? Full of memories and childhood tales. Maybe it's Cape Town the "Mother City", this African Queen, to whom i now belong? She certainly has given me my todays and my tomorrows! Yet the...

A Little Bit of Heaven

2012-03-18T17:15:32-04:00

Spring has come early to Maine this year. We had our first snowfall in October followed by a mild winter. It was a gorgeous day today so I decided to wash a winter's worth of salt and dirt off my car. As I often did back in my younger days, I listened to some of my favorite music. You might think I'd listen to something Greek and it's true, that I do so frequently but like most folks, I'm complicated. A little bit of this and a little bit of that. Having spent a good part of my life in the South I have a passion for country music, especially a singer named Patsy Cline. I threw a CD of her songs into my car's CD player and went to work while a sipped on a bottle of cold beer. There's nothing like washing a car on a Spring day, the sun beating down on you, warming your bones, while you work up a thirst. Having finished washing my wheels I threw the car doors wide open, turned up the volume, and sat down on my front porch. I leaned back in my chair, my feet resting on the porch rail, listening to Patsy's sweet voice. Even the birds were singing back-up for her. None of us can be sure what is in store for us in the after life, but I think God gives us a taste of heaven during our earthly lives now and then. Moments that are...

The Road Less Travelled

2012-02-02T21:39:25-05:00

By Father Richard Demetrius Andrews M. Scott Peck wrote a book in 1978 titled "The Road Less Traveled"." The title is a quote of American Poet Robert Frost (1874-1963) who said, "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference." Peck's book was a New York Times bestseller and helped change the minds of millions who were shaped by the hedonistic 1960s and the self-indulgent 1970s. It was for me personally an eye-opener when I read it as a young adult struggling to find my way. I continue to recommend the book to people looking for meaning in their life. One of the things I learned from Peck is that true discipline is the exercise of conscious choice to delay gratification, sacrificing present comfort for a future reward. He says elsewhere that this exercise of discipline is what propels us on the path of spiritual growth. However, "this awareness comes slowly, piece by piece. The path of spiritual growth is a path of lifelong learning. The experience of spiritual power is basically a joyful one." I realized that I was unhappy because I was exercising little if any discipline in many parts of my life and it was causing me to fall away from God. My life was beginning to spin out of control. I began to learn what Jesus meant when He said in today's Gospel, "Whoever desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, and...

The Greece of Theo Angelopoulos by Costas Douzinas

2012-01-31T15:20:35-05:00

The sudden death of Theo Angelopoulos, the greatest Greek film-maker, while shooting his latest film on the current troubles, has acquired great symbolic significance. In recent months, reporting on Greece has concentrated on the deficit, debt and the untrustworthiness of its people. The films of Angelopoulos remind us of another Greece and a different humanity. In his dreamlike historical films, he chronicled the melancholic nature of a nation torn between an invented tradition of classical glories and a traumatic history of repressive state policies, dictatorship, corrupt and dynastic politics. He narrated the lowly lives of the defeated in the vicious civil war 1946-9, the degradations and melancholy of exile, the Odysseus-like return of people who go back to a place they nurtured in their memories but turns out alien and unwelcoming. In his mesmeric long sequences, a simple gesture, a silence or smile acquire philosophical depth and historic significance. This is epic cinema made out of the fragments of everyday life. Coming from the left, as did most of the Greek cultural renaissance of the second half of the 20th century, but ascribing to no orthodoxy, Angelopoulos described the degradations of ordinary people both in the hands of rightwing governments and in the Stalinist regimes where the defeated partisans retreated but found no haven. For Angelopoulos, humanity survives in the memories and dreams of exiled, travelling people who never fully make it back to Ithaca. What makes us human, Angelopoulos tells us, is found in traumatic memories, in the desire...

Diary of a Yorkville Street Urchin

2012-01-29T17:38:23-05:00

Mama always liked to dress me up in ridiculous outfits. The kind that no self respecting street urchin on East 91st in the Yorkville section of Mahattan would be caught dead in. Like the suit that looked like it was made of aluminum foil. She had seen something like it in a magazine and promptly went out and found some of the offensive fabric. She had stayed up late into the night sewing. When it was done you could tell she was very proud of her work, stroking it lovingly while it was on a hanger. I was appalled, she had to threaten me with bodily harm because I balked at wearing it. After all what would my friends say? My God, this was the neighborhood of Lou Gehrig and James Cagney; could you see them wearing a get up like this? All I wanted was to be one of the neighborhood gang. I wanted to wear Keds high top sneakers and blue jeans and a T-shirt. I wanted to blend in. It was bad enough that I looked like a visitor from Spanish Harlem in a sea of blonde and red-haired freckled Celtic children. How was I going to be one of the boys, someone that you couldn't mess with or take for granted? The only time anyone wore a suit in our neck of the woods was on their confirmation day. I wasn't sure what took place exactly, not being Catholic, but I knew that no one could...