MORNING, HOLY WEEK, APRIL 26TH, JERUSALEM, 1997
Driven by their devotion to the Passion of Christ, thousands upon thousands of faithful Orthodox Christians pour into Jerusalem during Holy Week. On Saturday they stand shoulder to shoulder in a single perilously overcrowded place of worship to witness the miracle of the Holy Fire. A sea of Greek, Armenian, Coptic, and Syrian Orthodox Christians wave their unlit candles, while Christian youth from the Old City bang their drums and shout in Arabic, “The light is ours, glory to the Orthodox.” Devout people from every corner of the globe gather in breathless anticipation, waiting for the spectacle to begin.
A vast complex of interconnected sacred structures encompasses the sites of Christ’s torture, crucifixion, and burial, making the Church of the Holy Sepulchre the holiest pilgrimage site in Christendom. The excitement escalates as the arrival of the Greek Patriarch of Jerusalem draws near. Believers jockey for position closest to the mausoleum that contains Jesus’s tomb. The evocative sound of ancient tongues including Aramaic, the language of Jesus, builds to a crescendo that begins to quiet as security men lead the Greek prelate to the entrance of the church. Stepping inside, the Patriarch enters and passes the stone where Christ’s body lay in preparation for his burial, and the ten-meter-long mosaic that hangs above it depicting three scenes from his resurrection. The Patriarch then walks directly to the sepulchre, where representatives of the Armenian, Coptic, and Syrian Orthodox churches are waiting. Greek Orthodox clerics wearing their ceremonial vestments also join the entourage. The robed men move in procession holding poles with icons. They make two circles around the rotunda, a ring of arches that surrounds the tomb. After they have completed a third round, the Patriarch stands in front of the mausoleum, known as the edicule, and removes his vestments. He is handed four bundles of thirty-three candles, a number that represents the length in years of Christ’s life. He and the Armenian priest enter a small vestibule at the entrance of the edicule. Once the door is closed behind them, the Armenian cleric remains in the chapel as the Patriarch bends down to enter the chamber of the tomb holding his bundles of unlit candles. Around the tomb, a simple marble slab, are Greek Orthodox icons, also depicting the resurrection. To the right and left are moveable wooden icons belonging to the Armenian and Latin churches. Alone in the tomb now, the Greek Orthodox Patriarch kneels in front of Christ’s Holy Sepulchre and prays.
Minutes—although it can feel like hours—later he rejoins the Armenian cleric in the Chapel of Angels, holding freshly lit candles, and invites him to partake of the light from the Holy Fire. They briefly open the door to invite the Coptic and Syrian Orthodox clerics into the chapel, and the Patriarch shares the Holy Fire with them. When the doors open again, the Patriarch emerges into the rotunda holding his blazing candles. This sends an electrifying charge through the crowds, like a surging wildfire. The sound of “Christ is Risen!” shouted out in every language imaginable is heard as the light is passed from person to person with unbridled enthusiasm, setting Jerusalem aglow with the spirit of the resurrection.
In the eyewitness accounts of pilgrims down the ages, the light that emerges from the tomb of Christ is often described as mysterious, tinged with blue and unlike any other flame. People say they can pass their hands through the flame without being burned.
Bishop Vasilios, from Cyprus, moves his torch toward the light and catches the flame. “Christos Anesti,” (Christ has risen) says the Patriarch. The bishop bows his head, embraces the Patriarch and says, “Alithos Anesti,” (He has truly risen). Vasilios and many other senior Orthodox clergy rush to their waiting chartered planes to return to their homelands in time to pass the light of resurrection to the faithful who are waiting at Saturday evening services.
As a young Greek Orthodox girl, I would listen with fascination to my mother sharing this story, imagining one day that I would be among the thousands of believers and pilgrims in Jerusalem to witness the miracle of the Holy Fire firsthand. I was secretly curious and a bit skeptical as to how this mysterious phenomenon could occur. I would never dare put the question to my elders, as to inquire about such things was frowned upon and was considered rude and sinful by my devoutly religious mother. Questioning is what makes me who I am and makes me feel separate from other people.
EASTER EVE, CYPRUS
Touching down in Cyprus in that evening, Bishop Vasilios is met by clergy from every church on the island. They are waiting to bring the Holy Light to their parishes. As soon as they have captured a piece of the flame, they speed back to their respective communities. In each church, the same drama unfolds. As midnight approaches, most lights are extinguished and the faithful wait in darkness, anticipating the news that their Savior has risen and conquered the power of death.
The mood among the worshippers holding their unlit candles is similar to that in Jerusalem, full of nervous excitement. By this stage, only one tiny flame is burning in each church, on the altar hidden from the people’s view: a flame whose ultimate source is Jerusalem. At last the priest comes out into the body of the church, bearing a single candle, and intones the ancient words: “Defte, Lavete Phos! (Come, receive the Light, from the Light without evening, and glorify Christ Who is risen from the dead!) The light is passed around the church as one dripping candle illumines another. The faithful joyfully embrace each other and say, “Christos Anesti,” before sharing the Holy Light of Jerusalem with the next person. The darkened interior is now a luminous glow and reveals a kind of parallel heavenly universe.
Frescoes, mosaics, icons, and paintings with the images of saints and apostles and passages from the Bible glow in all their magnificence. At this moment more than any other these sacred images are inscribed on the inner mental map of every Greek Orthodox Cypriot. Even the image of Christ appears to be smiling at the news that he has risen. As the Orthodox world rejoices, church bells ring out all over the island in celebration of his resurrection, and the faithful march in celebratory candlelit processions throughout Cyprus. Christos Anesti!