I wish Pascha were on a different day

I wish Pascha were on a different day

Guest Column by Alexandra Fil

Sunday, April 20, marks the first Sunday after the first full moon, or Paschal Full Moon, after the spring equinox. In other words, this Sunday is Easter Sunday, commemorating the  resurrection of Jesus Christ. Or, if you are a member of the Eastern Orthodox Church, you may instead refer to this date as “American Easter” or “Western Easter.” 

Orthodox Christians are a sect of Christianity practiced in multiple countries, including Russia, Ukraine, Ethiopia and Greece. While I cannot speak about the experiences of all Eastern Orthodox  Christians, I was baptized Greek Orthodox and have some insight into the rituals and observances that distinguish it from other Christian faiths. 

For members of the Greek Orthodox Church, the Resurrection is the holiest day of the year and is referred to by the Church as Pascha. However, I never knew its official name, Pascha, as my family always called it “Greek Easter.” Later, we used the term “Greester” to distinguish between  it and American Easter. 

This distinction is necessary for a reason, which is that Pascha does not always fall on the  same day as American Easter. Greek Easter often falls on a different (usually later) date than American Easter because the Orthodox religion adheres to the older, less reliable calendar known as the Julian Calendar. 

Almost all the rest of the world used the Gregorian calendar, a “modern” replacement of the Julian calendar issued by Pope Gregory XIII in the late 1500s. If this sounds confusing, that’s because it technically is. It becomes even more confusing when Eastern Orthodox churches continue to use the Julian calendar to mark religious holidays. An interesting fact is Greece was the last European country to adopt the Gregorian calendar, and that was in 1923, but it still used the Julian calendar for religious purposes. 

These fascinating adaptations throughout history led to a 21st century where, as children, my sister and I had the unique privilege of celebrating two Easters. That meant the first Easter with my dad’s family, which had the easter bunny, the grand egg hunt and the easter baskets full of treats, followed by our second Easter, a much more solemn affair hosted by my Yaiyai (grandmother). 

As a child, American Easter certainly seemed like the more fun option, as it came with candy, crafts and gifts, but my perspective on this day (or days) has evolved, especially as I understood  its cultural importance. My Yaiyai was born in Samos, Greece, in the late 1930s and experienced  the German occupation of Greece, followed by a brutal civil war that led to her emigrating with her family to the United States. 

Her faith was her anchor throughout her life, something she returned to as a way to survive life’s hardships. When she met my Papou (grandfather), an American man who had more in common with the main characters from “The Grapes of Wrath” than the people in her village, he converted to the Greek Orthodox religion so they could marry. 

My connection to the Greek Orthodox faith is not spiritual so much as cultural. As a secular humanist and a long-time agnostic, I do not have a personal connection to any religion, although I do enjoy learning about the various traditions and underlying mythology associated with religious practices. 

As Pascha, or Greek Easter, is not a widely celebrated holiday (at least in the United States), when it would approach, I would mentally designate that as a day for spending time with my family, the only Greek people I knew. We had a few traditions we would try to implement, like tsougrisma, in which participants would tap red-dyed, hard-boiled eggs together to see whose egg would crack first. If you’ve seen the film “My Big Fat Greek Wedding,” you’ll see the scene where the characters play this game while repeating the common Easter phrases to one another: “Christos Anesti” (Christ has risen!), with the appropriate response being, “Alithos Anesti” (Indeed he has risen!). 

Unlike Toula, I do not have a big fat Greek family. We were not the kind of people to put a lot of work into a celebration that would only be enjoyed by a few. So on Greek Easter, we would spend time together, eat Greek food and maybe enjoy an Americanized version of a Greek dessert, like tsoureki embedded with discount Cadbury chocolate eggs. 

Every few years, Greek Easter and American Easter would fall on the same day, and usually, that  meant combining American and Greek traditions, with a preference for the Greek traditions out of loyalty to Yaiyai. I never liked it when Greek Easter and American Easter fell on the same day because it did feel like having to choose. It also meant I would have to buy Easter chocolate at  full price like everyone else, instead of waiting for the after-Easter sales, when I could buy out  the entire candy section at Rite Aid. 

This year will be the first year I celebrate a Greek Easter without Yaiyai, as she passed away earlier in January. I have a lot of complicated feelings about how or even if I should celebrate, as I feel like the holiday has lived and breathed with her. 

In most years, I have the luxury of waiting for American Easter to come and go before my family begins planning our celebrations. I have become reliant on that time, using it to plan how to best carry our traditions forward. As this year will be different and quieter, I will have to shift my focus from trying to preserve our traditions to remembering the love that made those traditions matter in the first place.

The views expressed in this opinion column are those of the author. They do not necessarily reflect the views of FāVS News. FāVS News values diverse perspectives and thoughtful analysis on matters of faith and spirituality.