Reflections on Greek Orthodox Easter

Written by Demitra Lazarakis

“Have you got much planned for Easter?”

It’s a question I’ve been asked at least five times over the past few days. My response is always something along the lines of:

“Nah, not this weekend. But my Easter is next week!”

I then proceed to explain how Greek Orthodox Easter falls on a different date to Catholic Easter this year, and try to summarise my Greek Easter plans in a short sentence. Something like:

“I’ll basically be going to church a lot and visiting lots of family. Oh, and having a big lunch on Easter Sunday!”

There’s so much more to it than that, though. Megali Evdomada, the most significant period of Orthodox worship, is full of unique and symbolic events, activities and customs.

Every Greek Easter tradition is full of deep religious significance. Even the small details. Like how the shape of the Tsoureki, with its three ‘braids,’ represents the Holy Trinity. The dying of red eggs symbolises both the renewal of life and Christ’s blood. The Epitafio, beautifully decorated, depicts the burial of Christ. Growing up, I was immersed in these traditions by my family, my wider friendship circle, and even the Saturday Greek school I attended, where we used the canteen kitchen to dye red eggs and created Easter cards with churches and crosses drawn on the front cover.

Today, even Greeks who aren’t

particularly religious keep these traditions alive because of their customary and cultural significance. This is particularly important for Greeks living in the diaspora. To me, celebrating Greek Easter, engaging with these traditions and customs in some way, is an integral part of what it means to be Greek. I love that third and fourth generation Greeks have learned about Easter traditions from their grandparents. Traditions which their grandparents learned from their parents in Greek villages, passed down through generations and spread to different parts of the world.

My favourite part of Megali Evdomada would have to be the midnight church service. Despite the cold night, everyone is kept warm by candlelight, each individual candle lit by the same source of flame. We take that same flame with us home to Yiayia’s and Pappou’s house. I love the way Pappou tries as quickly as possible to light the candle in his little lantern, ensuring the wind won’t sweep away his chance at taking home the Holy Flame.

When we get to the house, the table is already set. Yiayia brings out magiritsa, kotosoupa, koulouria and kokkina avga. We eat and drink and chat, and there’s something peaceful about the timing of it all, when it’s quiet and still outside. It’s usually close to 2am when we leave, tired but fulfilled. When I get to bed, I feel a hint of excitement at the thought of Easter lunch the next day. It’s a feeling I still experience no matter how much I grow up. Gone are the days of visits from the Easter Bunny and brightly decorated lambades, but there’s still something magical about this time. I feel special, and grateful, to be part of it.