Alexis Papachelas
Easter always goes hand in hand with the search for authenticity. For the authentic Epitaph procession, good company for the subsequent authentic feast, the authentic Greek landscape, the authentically spiritual experience of the Resurrection service. Like many things around us, all of this is becoming more and more valuable.
We long for such authentic moments because they invoke what we love most about this country: its beauty, its traditions and customs, the spontaneous and boisterous nature of its people. We are moved by the sight of the procession of the Epitaph on an island with the blue and white flag waving nearby. We are angered by a Resurrection service that is not treated with due reverence because so many confuse it with a noisy social event that we could easily watch on a television screen. We are overjoyed by the company that bonds and sings around a table in a magical landscape. We are surprised by those who ignore the setting, the aromas, the priest’s chants or the traditional dances and prefer to stubbornly keep looking at their mobile phone.
It is no coincidence that photographers who fell in love with the authentic Greece and captured its “soul” often chose Easter as their subject. Their photos speak for themselves.
Easter is also a deeply Greek moment that unites us all around an imaginary big table. For some, it reminds them of their roots and for others it is a journey, sometimes to a changing Greece. I don’t want to say to a Greece that is disappearing, because you can still find it – and it’s an unprecedented joy when you do, even if she is sometimes hidden, sometimes poorly built, sometimes desecrated by nouveau riche barbarians and peddlers who don’t understand that without her secret magic she won’t sell anymore.
The joy is exhilarating when the annual appointment with the authentic parts of our country does not disappoint.
