Philippos Damilas' narration.
Germany, Silesia, 1918:
“Easter in my place is not a pure celebration, it is soul turbulence and relief at the same time. All these days we follow Christ closely. We go together to his last supper, we look for a place at his table, we attend him at Golgothas, the splashes of his blood fall on our naked souls. And when “Tetelestai” (It is finished) is heard, we take him down from the cross, decorate his coffin with flowers and spend the night with him, just as we spend the night with all our beloved dead, with lamentations and songs of mournin”.
[...] "If you are a stranger and you happen to find yourself in our place at such a time, you will think that all these people live in bitterness; there is no white day for them. But before a night passes, the tear of pain becomes a tear of joy, and it happens so suddenly that you think that the high come low and the world turns upside down. This is Easter in my place. Along with the candles that melt in the candelabra, the darkness in our hearts melts away, fires are lit in the squares, rifles thunder, and it is like you are going out of your mind as you see bitterness become a celebration and mourning become a festival. People hug each other, cry, kiss, laugh, and all the offspring of the earth laugh together with them. We celebrate the Resurrection of Christ and Nature celebrates its own, but I think that both are one. And then, on Sunday noon, we decorate the icon of the Resurrection and get around the houses. But do not expect to see our Christ waving flags; our Christ goes down to Hades again and calls the dead one by one. With one hand he lifts Adam from his grave and with the other he lifts Eve. You see the miracle again and you say: death and resurrection is one and the same thing. But when you think about it, you are thrilled and only then, drunk with peace and hope, do you raise your eyes to the light and shout that death does not exist. The scholars say that Resurrection means uprising. They may be right, I do not doubt it, but in the language I speak, the pure and undefiled, I know that it means victory. Victory of the God, who crushes and defeats death, but also victory of the man, who resurrects God every year in order himself to be resurrected with him".
(Excerpt from the new, under publication - and without a final title yet - historical novel by Nikos Psilakis).
Happy Easter! May the light of the Resurrection illuminate your path!
Nikos and Maria Psilakis family