Paste Blajinilor / Easter of the Dead
Moldova celebrates two Christmases (old and new), two New Years, and two memorial days (Red Army Day and Moldovan veterans' day). You would expect two Easters as well. Ask and you shall receive.
The second Easter, celebrated the Sunday and Monday after Orthodox Easter is called Paste Blajinilor, which I am translating loosely into Easter of the Dead. A more literal translation would be "Easter of the kind souls who have passed away," but Easter of the Dead just sounds catchier. :)
I'm not sure if this celebration is "traditional Orthodox," a Moldovan specialty, a Eastern European thing, or what. I certainly had never heard of it before I came here, despite my neighbors' claims that it is a holiday celebrated by Orthodox all over the world. The closest church service I can compare it to is the Catholic "All Souls Day," but even that is a far fetched comparison. My host Mom says only Moldova and Romanian celebrate it, while my tutor told me Russia does as well. If anyone reading this blog has more information about other places that celebrate Easter of the Dead, please let me know. This year I made up for my absence last year, and I actually got to celebrate the day twice - once in the city, Sunday, and then Monday in my village.
On Saturday I went into Balti, the nearest city to me -- a very unfriendly, very dirty and very Russian city (in the central square is a huge military tank, on display for all to see)-- to buy some supplies we need for the construction of our youth center. While my official motives for going into Balti were for "business", having successfully purchased (read: haggled over prices, stomped around in the rain, got lost, lugged bags to and fro, argued with vendors about giving us receipts) everything we needed at a large outdoor market (piata), I decided to reward myself with a night in the city, at another volunteer's apartment.
Every time I go into Balti I feel like I am transported into another world. It is a HUB for volunteers -- right now there are 5 stationed there. The way they interact with each other and the community it almost feels like a college campus -- making dinners, meeting for lunches, playing games, going to language lessons, etc. PLUS it has grocery stores, a pizzeria, an indoor pool, book stores, a university, and good ice cream -- enough to lure you in. We played games all night, and in the morning went, "just to see", to the cemetery for"Easter of the Dead." Because people go to visit all of their deceased relatives, some of the bigger cities celebrate on Sunday, a day early, giving the city dwellers a chance to return to their villages for the actual celebration, Monday.
Sunday was rainy, and muddy. If Jen had lived with a host mother, she would have made sure we were dressed properly to be traipsing through a muddy cemetery. But she lives alone, and alas we got soaked, and mudded. I can't start to explain to you how many people were at the cemetery. Everyone was at the cemetery. They blocked off roads, had police redirecting traffic, and rerouted 90 percent of the cities transportation to circulate from the cemetery to the center of the city -- leaving the regular bus routes to the wayside.
We walked around and watched people set up their meals -- of meat, of cheese, of fresh baked bread, of wine, of candy. Most Moldovan graves are built with a fence around them. Inside this fence is a table, that is used once a year, for Easter of the Dead. The idea of the day is to not only "remember" the dead, but to eat with them. Wine is poured on the graves, food is left on the foot of the graves. Also, there is a tradition to give small gifts to others outside your family (not strangers, but people that were in the life of the person who died -- family friends, co-workers, etc) in the name of the deceased. The word they use for this gift translates into "alms. " It's like they give it in the spirit of the deceased person, but they have to give it on their part. I'm not entirely sure on this. The gifts resemble goody bags, and are filled with baked goods, cookies, candy, matches, candles and usually some dishes and a towel. I always ask about the dishes and towel, but I haven't figured that one out yet.
Wandering around speaking English got us easily noticed, and although I was in a rush not to miss the bus back to my village, we stopped when one man handed us gifts of "pomana". He was standing by himself in the rain, in front of two grave stones. He invited us in, to eat with him and although we refused at first, we eventually relented. I'm glad we did. He seemed very alone and sad -- his wife and brother had just died this year, his daughter was in America. The fact that he randomly found and invited two Americans to celebrate with himwas a happy coincidence for him, or a sign as he put it. He made all the food that he was serving, the cheese from his cow at home, as he put it. And when I asked him, he told me he was just "waiting for his other family to come", but Jen and I talked about it and we didn't think anyone else was coming... yet he had a table full of food, and went through a lot of trouble to prepare it. He offered us wine, and told us that he preferred milk. When I came home from Balti, my host mom was both surprised that I had already celebrated the holiday, and surprised that a "stranger" had invited us to his celebration. I'd like to think that he recognized that we were kind of "alone" also on that day... I'm glad we stopped. We took some pictures with Jen's camera, so we will have to wait for her for them.
Then on Monday, we celebrated Easter of the Dead in my village. My host brothers came from Chisinau and we set off early to church, followed by a grave side service. The priest says a prayer and then walks around the whole graveyard. Then, goes to each grave individually and blesses the food, and blesses the grave. Thus the food you are eating is blessed. It's a lot of work for the priest. We were there at 9 in the morning, left at 12, and there were still people just arriving at 12. Two boys working for the church were carrying away sacks of baked goods and breads that people had given as alms to the church. It's a LOT of bread. I hope someone eats it.
I walked around taking pictures while we were waiting for the priest to come to my host father's grave. People kept giving me gifts of "pomana", I think because they recognize me as the American, and becuase I showed myself to be the American because I was taking pictures. I came back with a lot of food, which my host mother was only slightly amused by -- "Sharon," she says, "we are supposed to give away food not collect more -- don't you know how much food we have at home!". Oops. And apparently we can't give it away or let it go bad because it is blessed.
The priest came, he said a "memory eternal", poured wine on the grave, blessed the food and the offering, and blessed us with holy water, and moved on. After the religious part of the ceremony, we sat around the table on the grave (kind of strange for me), and ate a meal, with my host family offering those that they know to eat with us.
For me, the jury is still out on this holiday. I like how the Moldovans' remembrance of the dead is more mainstreamed than ours is -- we do it individually for the most part, and for a limited amount of years after someone dies, and then it kind of gets phased out. They do it every year, and collectively -- you remember not only your family members, but your neighbors, your old teachers, etc. I'm not sure how I felt about eating in the graveyard though, maybe something was lost in the translation as I didn't really understand the point of it -- nor the point of the obligatory gift giving. Once again though, I'm open to more information about this holiday.
As for the Marathon-May of celebrations: Many down, one more to go, in my 2-week-long holiday extravaganza (tomorrow is Victory in Europe day,in Moldova, where they rememebr the victory over fascism .... do we celebrate it on the 7th or 8th, or am I mistaken).
The second Easter, celebrated the Sunday and Monday after Orthodox Easter is called Paste Blajinilor, which I am translating loosely into Easter of the Dead. A more literal translation would be "Easter of the kind souls who have passed away," but Easter of the Dead just sounds catchier. :)
I'm not sure if this celebration is "traditional Orthodox," a Moldovan specialty, a Eastern European thing, or what. I certainly had never heard of it before I came here, despite my neighbors' claims that it is a holiday celebrated by Orthodox all over the world. The closest church service I can compare it to is the Catholic "All Souls Day," but even that is a far fetched comparison. My host Mom says only Moldova and Romanian celebrate it, while my tutor told me Russia does as well. If anyone reading this blog has more information about other places that celebrate Easter of the Dead, please let me know. This year I made up for my absence last year, and I actually got to celebrate the day twice - once in the city, Sunday, and then Monday in my village.
On Saturday I went into Balti, the nearest city to me -- a very unfriendly, very dirty and very Russian city (in the central square is a huge military tank, on display for all to see)-- to buy some supplies we need for the construction of our youth center. While my official motives for going into Balti were for "business", having successfully purchased (read: haggled over prices, stomped around in the rain, got lost, lugged bags to and fro, argued with vendors about giving us receipts) everything we needed at a large outdoor market (piata), I decided to reward myself with a night in the city, at another volunteer's apartment.
Every time I go into Balti I feel like I am transported into another world. It is a HUB for volunteers -- right now there are 5 stationed there. The way they interact with each other and the community it almost feels like a college campus -- making dinners, meeting for lunches, playing games, going to language lessons, etc. PLUS it has grocery stores, a pizzeria, an indoor pool, book stores, a university, and good ice cream -- enough to lure you in. We played games all night, and in the morning went, "just to see", to the cemetery for"Easter of the Dead." Because people go to visit all of their deceased relatives, some of the bigger cities celebrate on Sunday, a day early, giving the city dwellers a chance to return to their villages for the actual celebration, Monday.
Sunday was rainy, and muddy. If Jen had lived with a host mother, she would have made sure we were dressed properly to be traipsing through a muddy cemetery. But she lives alone, and alas we got soaked, and mudded. I can't start to explain to you how many people were at the cemetery. Everyone was at the cemetery. They blocked off roads, had police redirecting traffic, and rerouted 90 percent of the cities transportation to circulate from the cemetery to the center of the city -- leaving the regular bus routes to the wayside.
We walked around and watched people set up their meals -- of meat, of cheese, of fresh baked bread, of wine, of candy. Most Moldovan graves are built with a fence around them. Inside this fence is a table, that is used once a year, for Easter of the Dead. The idea of the day is to not only "remember" the dead, but to eat with them. Wine is poured on the graves, food is left on the foot of the graves. Also, there is a tradition to give small gifts to others outside your family (not strangers, but people that were in the life of the person who died -- family friends, co-workers, etc) in the name of the deceased. The word they use for this gift translates into "alms. " It's like they give it in the spirit of the deceased person, but they have to give it on their part. I'm not entirely sure on this. The gifts resemble goody bags, and are filled with baked goods, cookies, candy, matches, candles and usually some dishes and a towel. I always ask about the dishes and towel, but I haven't figured that one out yet.
Wandering around speaking English got us easily noticed, and although I was in a rush not to miss the bus back to my village, we stopped when one man handed us gifts of "pomana". He was standing by himself in the rain, in front of two grave stones. He invited us in, to eat with him and although we refused at first, we eventually relented. I'm glad we did. He seemed very alone and sad -- his wife and brother had just died this year, his daughter was in America. The fact that he randomly found and invited two Americans to celebrate with himwas a happy coincidence for him, or a sign as he put it. He made all the food that he was serving, the cheese from his cow at home, as he put it. And when I asked him, he told me he was just "waiting for his other family to come", but Jen and I talked about it and we didn't think anyone else was coming... yet he had a table full of food, and went through a lot of trouble to prepare it. He offered us wine, and told us that he preferred milk. When I came home from Balti, my host mom was both surprised that I had already celebrated the holiday, and surprised that a "stranger" had invited us to his celebration. I'd like to think that he recognized that we were kind of "alone" also on that day... I'm glad we stopped. We took some pictures with Jen's camera, so we will have to wait for her for them.
Then on Monday, we celebrated Easter of the Dead in my village. My host brothers came from Chisinau and we set off early to church, followed by a grave side service. The priest says a prayer and then walks around the whole graveyard. Then, goes to each grave individually and blesses the food, and blesses the grave. Thus the food you are eating is blessed. It's a lot of work for the priest. We were there at 9 in the morning, left at 12, and there were still people just arriving at 12. Two boys working for the church were carrying away sacks of baked goods and breads that people had given as alms to the church. It's a LOT of bread. I hope someone eats it.
I walked around taking pictures while we were waiting for the priest to come to my host father's grave. People kept giving me gifts of "pomana", I think because they recognize me as the American, and becuase I showed myself to be the American because I was taking pictures. I came back with a lot of food, which my host mother was only slightly amused by -- "Sharon," she says, "we are supposed to give away food not collect more -- don't you know how much food we have at home!". Oops. And apparently we can't give it away or let it go bad because it is blessed.
The priest came, he said a "memory eternal", poured wine on the grave, blessed the food and the offering, and blessed us with holy water, and moved on. After the religious part of the ceremony, we sat around the table on the grave (kind of strange for me), and ate a meal, with my host family offering those that they know to eat with us.
For me, the jury is still out on this holiday. I like how the Moldovans' remembrance of the dead is more mainstreamed than ours is -- we do it individually for the most part, and for a limited amount of years after someone dies, and then it kind of gets phased out. They do it every year, and collectively -- you remember not only your family members, but your neighbors, your old teachers, etc. I'm not sure how I felt about eating in the graveyard though, maybe something was lost in the translation as I didn't really understand the point of it -- nor the point of the obligatory gift giving. Once again though, I'm open to more information about this holiday.
As for the Marathon-May of celebrations: Many down, one more to go, in my 2-week-long holiday extravaganza (tomorrow is Victory in Europe day,in Moldova, where they rememebr the victory over fascism .... do we celebrate it on the 7th or 8th, or am I mistaken).
This entry was posted
on Thursday, May 08, 2008 at 3:03 PM.
