ABOUT THIS BLOG
Welcome to my blog. I am happy to take you with me on a journey through Romania. A trip which lead me to the monasteries of northern Romania (Bucovina and Neamts area).
You can find the text of this personal experience below.
I thank everyone, that made this trip so special.
If you like what you see I invite you write a comment and to pass on this site.
WELCOME TO MY ACTUAL PHOTO-EXHIBITION IN VIENNA:
Exhibition: 11th Nov 2008 - 16th Jan 2009 (Monday - Friday 9.00 AM - 4 PM)
Where: Erzbischöfliches Palais, Wollzeile 2, DG, 1010 Vienna
SPECIAL WEBSITE: www.exhibitions007.blogspot.com
NOTE:
* An animated PHOTO-CD of the life at Agapia and another one of the monasteries of Romania is available.
* single photos (the ones below and others) can be ordered.
* if you would like to publish an article about life in Romania or if you would like to have an exhibition also in your area, you are welcome to contact me:
Claudia.Henzler[at]henzlerworks.com
COPYRIGHT OF THE TEXT AND PHOTOS BY CLAUDIA HENZLER - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Samstag, 8. September 2007
you can also find two interesting shorter posts at the very end of this blog. I wrote them before on www.henzlerworks.blogspot.com
VORATEC - LIVING A SIMPLE LIFE
... where the nuns served me a "delicious" lunch (read the funny story below)
... where the nuns served me a "delicious" lunch (read the funny story below)
TO HONOR SISTER MAICA MARIA
...the nun, that brought orthodoxy close to my heart through sharing many stories about saints and her own life.
...the nun, that brought orthodoxy close to my heart through sharing many stories about saints and her own life.
ROMANIA - SOUL IMPRINTS
I am back to Vienna. But Romania has left its imprints in my soul. After having been there for two weeks altogether, I feel that my concept about the country and people that I had, when I arrived in the beginning, has changed a lot. From other travelers I learned that I was not the only one that had to get used to the “slowness of being”. They told me that it normally takes about 3 days to adjust to life in Romania from the “speeding society” we come from.
When I look back, I’d say first of all, I am content, that I did not follow my first impulse to leave the country as soon as possible and go back to Vienna earlier then planned. After I opened up to “sink into” the country and what it offered – even though, or especially because it rained a lot there – it became more and more close to my heart.
MOLDAVIAN MONASTERIES IN THE BUCOVINA...
The first week I saw practically all the moldavian monasteries of the northern part of Romania, called Bucovina. I enjoyed the enormous beauty of the frescos on the outer and inner walls of the monasteries. But since they are more and more well known all over the world, I felt that they were visited mostly like museums or cultural sites rather then experiencing them as “dwelling places of the Lord”. I guess by the declaration of the UNESCO as world heritages these places became even more famous around the globe.
So one day I was thinking “Lord, actually I came here to look for you, to feel your presence here, but it’s hard to perceive you with all these tourists rushing around… I would like to see some nuns or people that really dedicate their life to finding you, where are they?” … Then I also realized that maybe the blame had to be put on me… Have I searched hard enough for inner peace? Have I rally been looking for people that want to find God?...
The same night – at Sucevita - I met Mirela and her husband Marian. After having talked to them for a while I found out that this young couple loves to see monasteries. Mirela even sang in an orthodox choir… Shortly later they asked me if I would like to go with them to see some more monasteries the next day. I agreed. It was wonderful. Not only did I see places, that I would have had difficulties to see without having an own car, in addition I also had lovely Romanian company while visiting Putna – a men´s monastery and Arbore, another small orthodox place with beautiful paintings and a romantic graveyard.
The following night I was even more amazed, both asked me if I wanted to come with them till National Park Ceahlau. Actually – as an enthusiastic trekker - I had brought my trekking boots and poles to Romania. But because of the stories that I had heard before (that the chances to meet wolves, bears or most likely wild hoards of aggressive dogs in the wilderness), I was recommended again and again not to walk alone through the woods. In the long run my adventurous spirit was bigger and so I went with them. They left me at Izvorul Muntelui and from there I began the path up to the cottage Cabana Dochia in the higher mountains on my own.
When I realized that the way was really quite steep (plus I had to carry all my luggage of about 23 kg on my back), I hoped it was really a good I idea to do that trip by myself. Time passed and I was not sure if I would really make it before dark to reach that cottage “Cabana Dochia”. It was steeper than I thought and the first marks that said I would reach the Cottage after 2 hours 45 minutes showed up after I had walked already 30 minutes - twice as much as was indicated at the park entrance. So I figured out I had to speed up more to make it in time to my sleeping place. But how??? In addition it was slippery from all the rain that came down the days before. I thought I was walking slower then my grand ma. With all that luggage on my back. Then thoughts about the wild dogs and wolves came back… I didn’t even have a whistle with me.
Anyhow, after having walked – it seemed for ever – through the forest, I finally reached the cottage. It was a perfect timing. I got there just right to enjoy the sunset. And I was astonished when I found out, that I had walked the way in actually 2 hours, where others took 4-6 hours… So altogether I had reached the peak, I felt victorious and proud of my self. To just a moment later feel a little ashamed. Why should I feel proud? I was lucky that God gave me the courage to walk up there, that I didn’t meet any wild animals, that he gave me enough strength and good health… This is not “my” victory… Anyhow, away with the entire analyzing mind “what is good, what is bad, whose victory is it etc… stupid thoughts, just enjoy the beautiful nature”, I thought….
Why did I walk up that mountain to Cabana Dochia? Because before Mirela and Marian had shown me a map with some photos. On one of them I saw a “shitul” a little hermitage / chapel standing lonely on a beautiful mountain top. That was – what had a very strong appeal to me… After having seen the famous moldavian monasteries of the Bucovina, I wanted so much to be at a simple place “full” of God, and that was exactly, what the picture on their map looked like….
I found the little wooden chapel. Well, it was still there – very close to the cottage “Cabana Dochia” where I stayed over night. BUT, right next to it – not even 4 meters away – Romanians had built a new “pastoral cultural center”. I couldn’t believe my eyes. What a shame! They had destroyed all the romantic and special touch of that place by putting an ugly building right next to that sacred site, where hermits and monks used to live before.
Anyhow, the next day I got up early and walked around the vast plateau to enjoy the beautiful surrounding. Later on I went to the top of Mount Toaca. A steep, wooden – almost rotten – ladder lead up to that peak. After having enjoyed the terrific views I speeded down, having the remark in my head that a French guy just said a little before… “Attention, there’ll be another thunder & lightening and big rainfall soon”. Not good to be on top of any mountain at that time.
Just a little before the cottage Cabana Fantanele the rain hit me (and many others). But in the cozy cottage, I got warm again with great hot white chocolate and pancakes…. Altogether I was more then happy for this nature experience, that mad the trip to Romania even more colorful then I had hoped.
But the highlights of the trip still had to come. When I reached the valley, I realized that the last public transportation of that day was already gone. I had to sleep in the little mountain village Durau. Shortly after I sat down in a little coffee place, I made friends with a group of Romanians. This time we talked in Italian (Italian or English, sometimes also French really helps quite a bit to get around in Romania). We had so much fun, with our little “small talk” that they invited me for a Romanian Barbecue. I accepted and thus got to know a bit of the way how Romanians celebrate life. When I told the group of couples about my further plans to visit more monasteries in the Neamts area, they insisted to take me to Bistrita, one of their beautiful monasteries. I agreed.
Just about 2 hours later I was in Bistrita. While the group said good by to me, a priest that knew one of my new friends, came out. Only later, I realized that this was real luck for me and only through this, I got the possibility to stay in that monastery over night. It was the 14th of August. A special date, because it was the day of the feast of the Dormition of Mary, which is celebrated in a big manner in many Romanian monasteries. In Bistrita I was happy to partake in the nightly candle-light procession around the church that had followed a long vigil with special melodious orthodox songs. There was a festive and quiet atmosphere at the same time… really beautiful.
The next morning (Aug. 15th) I left with the first bus to Piatra Neamts where I changed into another bus that lead directly to Voratec. Just in time I reached that gigantic Monastery complex with maybe a few thousand other peasants and pilgrims. I looked around. All seemed orthodox. Maybe this was the first time where no foreign visitors have invaded the place. But – as I heard - the metropolitan and patriarch of the Orthodox Church were there instead. I followed the long celebration of the Ascension of Mary. Too bad I did not understand the words, but it was beautiful to hear the nun’s choir and to see how the crowd of peasants, religious and believers from different parts of Romania celebrated this feast.
Just before the celebration had begun, I had asked an old nun, if it was possible to leave my heavy backpack in or around her house somewhere. Of course she did only understand Romanian and at first did not really want to. But after a little while she agreed. I was happy I didn’t have to carry that load on my back for several hours. So when the celebration was over I wanted to go back and catch my backpack to take off for the next monastery.
I was really astonished when the old nun – that at first did almost not want to help me – now opened with a smile and indicated me to sit down at a table. Lunch time. The first plate with appetizers was already on the table. Of course on that feast day they served meat. Great for most. Less for vegetarians. Well, what to do? I suddenly remembered I had a little plastic bag in my backpack. When no one else was in the room, I hastened to put in the meat. I did not want to offend anybody by not eating the food that was offered to me so friendly.
The next plate came. Soup. Made with fat by whatever kind of animal. I tried a few spoons until I almost had to vomit. What to do? That soup was impossible to fill into a plastic bag with little holes. My eyes found a little container in a corner of the room. No one there? I looked around me and in a rush opened that container, put in the soup spoon by spoon and closed it away, hoping that for a long time no one would realize, that there is soup in it. I felt a little bad, and thought about the container… Would it begin to smell after some days? Would they find the soup?... Was this already a sin (here they speak a lot about sins)? Well, I decided it would have been a bigger offense to have told them in the face (in German, what they wouldn´t have understood anyways), that I couldn’t eat that soup or else to eat the soup and then vomit it out.
Sure enough the main dish came. Several kinds of unknown meat. And rice in wine loafs… I tried a bit of the wine leaves… It all tasted very strange to me. I felt blessed, that I sat alone in that room. So I took out my plastic bag again and put in the meat and rest of the indescribable food that my stomach resisted to eat.
In the end a coffee was brought to me. Ultra strong. Actually coffee doesn’t do me any good. And the worst is black thick espresso like coffee. And the top of it is, if it’s rather cold. Well. You guessed it. I got it. Great surprise. Ok, at least that time I swallowed it down. The old nun saw me and probably my face. Quickly she brought another cup of coffee. Well, I guess she misunderstood my gestures. But there was no way out. I had to swallow the coffee. I figured I would survive it and swallowed it down. And indeed I survived.
Why did I tell you this story? It was actually less the food but maybe what impressed me most was their friendliness, without having known me before, they had offered everything with all their heart. And I – all I could do, was “trying” to smile and pretend I loved what I got served… I was touched, when I asked for their bathroom. They had a little “Plumpsklo” (something, I don’t even know if it exists in the US- vocabulary… a toilet from ancient times, without water, it’s wooden, with a hole and I guess after some time all the “rests” that fall in the hole will be taken away)… When I wanted to wash my hands, I saw, that they did not even have own water in their nicely furnished house. They bring the water from the well near the house. That’s simplicity. When I took off from Voratec Monastery, I departed with the feeling of leaving new friends (still having the soup in the container in my mind).
I walked down the street and stopped at a curve to get a short rest from my heavy carriage. I had read it would be a nice walk through the woods to the next big nuns’ monastery Agapia. So I wanted to go that route. I asked a boy who indicated me to go further down. But I somehow had a feeling he did not tell me the right way. I decided I would ask an additional time. The next car came. I made signs that it would stop. It was a car full of nuns. I asked them, if that was the way to Agapia. They answered “Yes, would you like to go?” I nodded. And they invited me to come along with them. I was more then happy for that offer. After a few hundred meters, the driver – Irina – told me in English “Do you know who is sitting next to you?” I said, I didn’t. “It’s the mother superior of Agapia”. Wow. “Would you like to stay in Agapia?” I said, yes, if it is possible, I would like to stay over night. “Mother superior gives you the blessing to stay over night”. I was really happy, when I heard that. What kind of luck!
When we arrived at Agapia, Irina – the driver with beautiful blue piercing eyes – showed me my room. As I came to know later, it was one of the best rooms in the monastery. Far better then the rooms of the nuns. Then she brought me to the kitchen and gave me to eat. Another time! Well, this time, the food was already better. Not great but a lot better. And since before I had eaten almost not at all, now I made up for it. After we left the kitchen area, I talked to Irina and another nun about orthodoxy, fasting and balance… Doing everything in balance. Not over- or under eating etc.
A minute later someone called us to the upper floor of the big monastery. I was guided into a big saloon. Another table full of dishes was there. I was asked to sit down again. And to…right… EAT. Again. “But I just ate! So much about fasting and balance”, I thought. “Mother superior invites you to eat here”.
I realize that this is not the time, where I should say, that I am not hungry because I have just eaten. It is the time to do you best, to honor your host. So I try my best to eat everything that is being served. Three dishes again. The food gets better with every plate. The best is the cake. I hear Agapia is well known for its cakes made without eggs, milk, butter… (in orthodoxy they fast a lot more then catholic Christians do; with fasting, they mean, refraining from different kinds of food, for instance no meat, no animal products etc…).
After the “food experience” of this day, I see that God really cares over abundantly and also with a twinkle in his eye for his little kids. I felt treated with lots of humor and love from his side.
After having attended the three hour service at night, Irina and Ada come to bring me some tea and honey. (Here church service lasts mostly from 5. – 8.00/ 8.30 in the morning and in the evening, additional in the afternoon for 1,5 hours. On feast days or special occasions the prayer times can be even longer. Mostly they sing their liturgy). I show them some pictures from Israel/Palestine and Argentina. They especially like the pictures of orthodox priests. Then they ask me “How long do you like to stay? You know you can stay longer if you wish!”. I told them, that I intended to leave the next morning, to visit a few more monasteries. They repeated the invitation that I could stay longer, then they left my room.
The next morning I wake up through the Toaca – the wood that gets beaten rhythmically at 5.00 AM to remind everyone to go to church and pray. I lie in my bed and feel lucky that I am here in this monastery, that my desire is granted. That I am able to experience much more of the monastic orthodox life now, then if I would only come for a short while to see the “outer” maybe more superficial beauties of the monasteries like the paintings of Artist Nicola Grigorescu at Agapia etc….
Suddenly it strikes my mind “what if I would stay here instead. I imagine that there are more people around the globe that would be interested to know more about this place. What if I ask mother superior, if I can make an article with photos on the life in Agapia? Wouldn’t that be even more interesting then solely showing pictures of the beautiful monasteries of Romania to people?”. I get more and more enthusiastic about that idea.
After the Morning Prayer I sit down for breakfast with 3 more visitors in that nice saloon. Then mother superior enters. She talks vividly about her childhood. She says, that already as a child she loved to plant. So she did. Her father wasn´t against it, because he said something would grow out of it. Now she is sewing, planting, observing on another level. Now, she is taking care of souls… almost 400 nuns live in Agapia. It is not only a convent, but a real village formed of the convent and houses that are inhabited by nuns. Many of them are very young.
Before breakfast is over I ask Catalina – the woman next to me at the table that speaks English quite well – if she can translate for me (all others just speak Romanian) and ask mother superior what she thinks about me, staying more time, to do an article with photos on the life at Agapia. She looks interested, then agrees. A short time later, a nun is sent to me, which shows me around the monastery. We see different work areas. So we visit nuns, that make garments for priests and nuns. Like several times before, I am surprised how full of contrasts life in Romania is: next to a very old sewing machine there is a machine that I didn’t even know that it exists. It’s very modern, you program it with the pattern that it should sew and then it sews it in high speed all by it self – without human hands.
Then we go and see the carpentry, later on the icon painters. In the afternoon I am called into the library. I see old books in Cyrillic (nowadays they the Latin alphabet) next to a Toshiba laptop. The nun Maria explains, that she has to write a thesis and has to translate a lot from Cyrillic into Latin letters…
If we look closely, life in Romania seems full of these contradictions… There are beautiful painted houses, nicely furnished, but without water. But the owners have mobile phones and at the same time maybe a carriage with horses - “the Romanian Mercedes” as Romanians call it, with humor.
I am very happy when I meet the nun Maica Maria. As she tells me later, she is 57 years old. In her thirties she became a nun. She always adored this life and followed her 20 years older brother on the same way to God. Maica Maria is a very intelligent woman. But much more then intelligent. She has the talent to bring across her belief in a vivid and enthusiastic manner. In fact she told me so much about orthodoxy and orthodox saints, that after the second day at Agapia, I feel very much inclined to stay longer, to get to know more, to understand better… So I do.
The following day, Maica Maria – as my personal nun / guide and friend – is there for me. We pray together (ok, I am more listening, since I still can’t speak Romanian), talk together, share stories of saints – she of the orthodox ones, and I tell her from the saints I know…
In the evening she shows me Agapia Veche – Old Agapia. That is the wooden Monastery with some little houses around more on top of a mountain, in the close by woods. On the way that leads to Agapia Veche, Maica Maria tells me a lot about the communist times that just stopped in 1989. Her brother Ioanichie and many other priests had suffered a lot from that time, had been thrown into prisons in order to not teach orthodoxy anymore etc. But she told me, that because almost all of the spiritual elite were in prison, they formed things like universities in prison, they shared their knowledge, learned different languages, even preached in prison. And some of the priests preached so well, that they got more and more famous and even some communist politicians came to listen to them and to follow their recommendations.
I listened carefully to the many stories Maica Maria told me and was impressed by the harsh but god fulfilled life so many seemed to have lead.
At one point however I became sad. Maica Maria told me, that Pope Benedict XVI. had said shortly ago “the catholic church is the only real church”. I have heard that before. And my heart felt sad before. But here – being together with an orthodox nun, which feels like a friend it even felt worse.
I told her, that this is not my personal opinion and that not all Catholics think like the Pope indicated there. I did not say this to offend the Pope, but I felt from the first moment and still feel, that the catholic church is not the ONLY true one in Gods eyes. How can someone say “my church is the ONLY real church”? Ok, maybe, when you are in love with your church and belief, it makes you say these things and generalize, thinking what you feel is the best for you, must then be the best for all. But I think this is a misconception. Aren’t there “many houses” where God dwells in… Aren’t there different possibilities and ways how to reach him?
Well, when we reached Agapia Veche, I saw an old priest – Father Nestor – standing in the sun, with his white long beard and a big smile. We came closer and began to talk with him. Maica Maria translated every now and then his words that were addressed to me in Romanian. Very shortly after we arrived and after he knew I was catholic he indicated, that everything was fine before the Great Schism (the split of the Roman Catholic Church from the orthodox churches in 1054) … He asked me if I am interested to become orthodox. Only the orthodox is the right way to believe. I got more and more silent. And sad. After a while I could not hide tears that rolled down my cheeks. I felt sad, that also in this beautiful place in the middle of the woods, there was a possibility to hint more on the discrepancies betweens beliefs then to dwell on what unites – Christ – God. I felt troubled, because wasn’t he doing exactly the same as Ratzinger? Just a few minutes ago I apologized for the statement of Ratzinger about “the only true church”, and here I meet exactly the same type of reasoning in an orthodox priest, who´s saying that only his orthodox belief is right. Only then you can be saved if you are orthodox.
He did not want to make me cry, he said. He does it out of love. He said: the most important is faith. The right faith. And I replied with tears in my eyes “for me the most important is love!”. I remembered how many people in the past got killed and mistreated in the name of faith by the different religions. And I felt inwardly destroyed. When will this ever have an end? Why do people again and again have the feeling they have to convince everyone, that only their belief is right? Why can’t there be more possibilities? What is wrong, if someone else is not the same, but is different? Can’t that also be enriching for me? I wonder when will be the time, when we strive to see more the beauty of the “otherness” of the other instead of fearing it, instead of wishing to eliminate it, instead of wanting to prove that I am right and you are wrong.
Maica Maria felt sorry because she saw me cry. And I felt sorry, too. Because I didn’t want to bring her into that position. Anyhow, next she brought me to a little house of nuns at Agapia Veche. There we visited a very old nun that could barely walk any more. She lived there with two younger nuns that are also blood sisters. When asked by Maica Maria to share some of her spirituality with us, the old nun said with a little smile, showing us her small room “you know, this is my paradise”, “I live here since I am 12 years old. Now I am 92. 80 years at Agapia Monastery. And I thank God for this life. You know, one of the most important lessons is to forgive. Many times, when I was mistreated, or people were saying things like “you sing too loud” or talked bad about me, I said to myself “it is not important. It does not matter. Lord, please forgive me and please forgive the other person”.
I was impressed by this little old person that showed such great humility. When Sister Maica Maria and I left after having exchanged lots of smiles, I felt much better again.
On the way down to Agapia, I told Maica Maria about Taizè and Frère Roger. I told her “if I would have to say which of all Christian persons did impress me most, it is Frère Roger. When I was 15 and I saw him the first time my first thought was: why isn’t he Pope?”. He radiated so much pureness, transparency and love that I felt almost thunderstruck, when I saw him the first time in my life. I explained Maica Maria that I just read a new book, where his life concept was quoted “to understand everything of the other person”. It is such a simple phrase. And yet it said everything about the greatness of this saint (even though he is not yet declared a saint yet, in my eyes, he definitely is one – maybe the only saint I met this life until now). How is it possible to understand everything of the other… Don’t we have this urge within ourselves to proof again and again that our opinion is right? How many times do we really try to understand the other, when there are differences? How much do we really care about the other person, about her feelings, thoughts, mindset, belief system and so on? Every time I think about this little phrase “to understand everything of the other person”, it touches my heart. And I think “yes, that is, what I want, too. How can that be possible? Lord, please help me to understand more. Help me to be more patient – with myself and with others. Help me to love more. Help me to search more for a deeper understanding. – Maica Maria listened and nodded about Frère Roger…than looked at me and with teary eyes she said “yes, these are qualities of a real God seeker”.
We took a rest in silence in the little chapel that is dedicated to Mary on the way near Agapia Monastery. Looking at the many flickering candle lights we inwardly added our “Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner” to the many prayers that pilgrims left there along with their little offerings for Mary and Jesus.
When I entered the church at Agapia Valley I realized that the evening prayer had ended. I was too late. Or maybe just in time? I kept standing there, in the middle of the dark church that was lit only by a few lights. Several nuns were rushing around, busy to clean the church for the next morning. At first I just watched these nuns and a short battle of thoughts struck me: “this is too noisy to pray here now, Claudia.” “No, it’s not. Don’t worry. Just be. Just perceive.” Standing there, I became more and more calm. Then my gaze fell on one little young nun. She was cleaning one of the big Icons. It was a silver Icon of Mary with Jesus. One of those that are there to be venerated and kissed by the believers when they enter and when they leave the church. Many times – in Jerusalem and in other monasteries on this trip – I have seen nuns cleaning icons. But this time it was different. So different infect, that I couldn’t take off my eyes of that young nun. What made her so special? Well, at first I watched her curiously, then attentively, then amazed, then touched to the point of almost crying. She was cleaning the Icon in such an intimate way, that I once again felt like a secret spectator (as before in the night where I watched the boy secretly praying in Humor). She was so immersed in her act of serving the mother of God, through which she forgot everything around her. Instead of cleaning the silver of the Icon in the usual rapid way, she caressed it with the cloth she held in her hands. Again and again she halted to kiss the Icon, then looking up to the face of the Mother of God again… Then she continued. I saw her whispering – obviously she was in communion with God. For her the Icon was not just some silver object of Art, but it had transformed into her Beloved. It was incredible to be there, to see this “relationship” between this “object” that became alive through the magic touch of love of that little nun. “That is, what real service is,” I thought.
On this day, this little nun had taught me the most. She said nothing, but her way of acting taught me everything. Maybe she and the little boy in Humor taught me more about the real heart of Orthodoxy than all I heard or read from the other priests and nuns in Romania.
The next day sister Maica Maria invited me to her little house near the cemetery. It has a beautiful garden and a nice wooden balcony. This time I was also invited into the kitchen. There I saw, how simple she lives with her two younger nuns. I watched her while she baked some vegetables that where brought to them by a friend. A little later I found out, that they didn’t even have running water in the house. They always have to go to the well, which is on the path about 100 meters outside of their house. Even though Maica Maria had paid for the building of the house and it was just done in 2003, it was neither isolated well, nor was the roof rain proofed…
Since about 10 years she has arthritis – a disease of the bones that deform and hurt a lot. She hardly takes any or sufficient medicine. It’s too expensive. Maica Maria has worked before she entered the monastery (in contrary to most of the nuns, that enter much younger then she did). Thus she receives a small pension of about 120 Euro. With this amount she has to take care for herself and the two sisters that stay with her. She has to see for themselves how to fix the house, how to sew plants, how to buy extra medicine etc. Even if the mother superior would agree to build a water system that would bring water to several houses of nuns, the nuns would have to pay the major part…When I heard that, I felt sorry for the nuns. Realized once more, how lucky I was, who lives in Austria, with a shower, good isolation, enough or even more then enough of everything.
I guess Maica Maria saw my thoughts written on my forehead. Quickly she said “you know, we are not complaining at all. We are blessed and our mother superior is very good. Blessed be the Lord, our God and Savior”.
When I told Maica Maria about the little nun that I had seen the night before, she said I was lucky I had observed this. And she explained me, too “You know, I have to tell you something about the icons. When we venerate and kiss them, we perceive the icons as mirrors of God. We do not kiss the silver, nor the picture. We give the kiss to God. And through the sanctifying rituals of the priests, the Icon is not just a picture. It really becomes inhabited by the Holy Spirit. Because of this we also have many “miracle icons”. Through them sick people get cured, others blessed etc.
In the afternoon Maica Maria took me to see two more Monasteries that were close. First we visited the monks´ monastery Sihastria. There she visited her sick older brother Ioanichie Balan while I was at least taking some pictures of the beautiful peaceful site. The second monastery was the smaller Secu. Right in the beginning we were greeted with a big smile by the abbot of the monastery. Due to a lack of time we turned back home shortly afterwards. And I saw again, that I take home most with me, when I am as long as possible in those places – long enough to take pictures, to pray, to listen, to observe, to talk to some monastic… In my opinion that is what makes places come alive and gives them a heart.
That evening I went to church and afterwards had the chance to speak to two young Romanian pilgrims. I guess the girls where about 20. They were dressed as many believers are in Romania – in a very modest way. With a cloth to cover their hair, a blouse and a long skirt. They both were very fond of their believe and especially of the psalms. Because the prayer times are so long, and have lots of repetitions, I was surprised to hear from them, that they really love the long services. From other lay people I rather heard the contrary, that they would attend just part of the church service because it was so long etc.
Around 9 PM Maica Maria knocked at my door. She told me she would go and do a night prayer in a little chapel with some other nuns. When I asked her how long the night prayer would last, she told me till about four- five in the morning. I thought, that probably she would do just an hour and then another nun would come to do another shift and so forth, as Catholics would mainly practice night vigils etc. But she told me “no, no, those that do the night prayer, stay the whole time. You can get up for a breath, but you stay till the end”.
Even though I was really tired, before I went to bed, I walked over to the chapel that was seated on the upper floor of the Agapia Monastery. Everything looked dark from outside. “Maybe they postponed it?” I asked myself. But when I opened the door I saw three nuns in the church. One of them was kneeling on the floor, two others where standing. Three little lamps gave just enough light for the nuns to read their holy scriptures. Each one of them read in silence. Every now and then they made the sign of the cross, bowed down or kneeled on the floor. Even though I was so tired, I was very happy I had been invited to see this intimate kind of prayer of the nuns. The silence was filled with a divine peace that permeated the room and even more then that: spirit and heart of the God seekers. This was maybe the third big imprint that my stay in Romania left in my heart.
The next morning I got up early. French visitors that I had shortly met the day before, offered me a free ride to the huge Neamts monastery. So I happily agreed. When we got there about an hour later, they departed at once. I was alone. It was still early, almost no tourists, just a few pilgrims where there. The atmosphere was filled with the songs of the priests, with the sound of the Toaca – the hour wood – and with incense inside of the church. Outside, the morning mist evaporated. It gave way to the rays of the sun that soon heated up the atmosphere.
I enjoyed walking around the vast area of the monastery (I guess at least several hundred hectares), was impressed by some colorful houses, then by other churches and garden areas that all belonged to the monks of Neamts.
At the last place I heard such a beautiful music that I had to stop. It was the most beautiful I have heard so far. So I was very happy it was buyable on CD (for anyone interested: www.byzantion.ro).
Before I had left Agapia that morning I told the kitchen staff, that I was not sure if I would make it back in time for lunch, since I didn’t know how easy it would be to hitch hike or take public transport back to Agapia. Actually, first of all there was no public transport when I was there. But I did not worry at all. I thought “why worry. Lord, you will take care of me. You know what is right and good for me”. Just a few minutes later a little car with a family with two kids stopped. They asked me where I wanted to go, I told them to Agapia. They actually did not want to go there but to Piatra Neamts. But I told them, they can throw me out a little further on the street that would already help. All four spoke Romanian. Just the daughter spoke a little English. With this bit we started a small conversation. And by the time we got closer, they decided, they also wanted to visit Agapia. So, we were laughing – both of us were happy: them, because they got to see another beautiful monastery, and me, because I got back not only easy and as direct as if I would have taken a Taxi, but I even arrived 5 minutes before lunch. “Wow, God, you are awesome. Your timing is just perfect”. When I realized once more, how much God cares about every one of us – even about the tiniest and seemingly most unimportant things – I was really touched.
When I entered the dining hall, all were smiling. They were amazed to see me, too. Food was great, especially the “Agapian” Tiramisu type of desert, that I surely won’t forget. The smiles of the nuns that served us few visitors, made it even more sweet. I couldn’t believe that this was already the last day in Agapia. When the kitchen staff heard I would leave, they told me (one in broken English, another one in German) that they had really liked my stay and my happy way of being. I was glad I heard that, because I was not sure if I was really not disturbing them as a “non-orthodox”, but they invited me to come back whenever I like.
Shortly after dinner had finished, it began to rain. When I saw Irina – the driver that I had met in the beginning – and wanted to say Good-bye, she invited me to her room and I there I sat down with her and some other young nuns. They were curious what I liked best of my stay and what I liked least. So we had a long and interesting, sometimes even challenging discussion about our beliefs.
Around 10 PM I walked to the home of Maica Maria. It was totally dark and the rain still poured down from heaven. We were glad to have the chance to talk a little more, then both of us became really tired. Maica Maria had offered me her room to take a rest. So I layed down on her bed. Only then I realized how hard it was. It did not have any mattress. Just wood, then a carpet like rug and a little thin cover. Really ascetic. I am not sure if all orthodox do that or if just some live that way (she told me that actually there are other religious, they sleep in chairs or on wood). No wonder, why many of them have severe health problems. I was not sure what to feel – some parts of me felt impressed about so much inner strength and humbleness and love for God, another part of me argued “no, that is too much. Why suffer this way? Is this necessary? Does God love you even a penny more for this asceticism? Does he need my suffering to pay me back with his love?”… Well, I am still not sure what to think. Obviously there is always more to understand. And that is, what I would really like: to understand and know more about their life and beliefs.
Then it was time to leave. Shortly after midnight we opened the gate. It was very dark. Almost no houses were alit any more. And the stony path had already become more like a creek then a street. With a little candle in one hand, the umbrella in another hand and the backpack on my back, Maica Maria and I went down to Agapia Valley, where a Taxi was already waiting for me. Just a few steps out of the house, another lightening struck Agapia. And all the rest of the electricity was cut. Now it was as dark as hell. But we felt save. Our feet already knew the way down to the parking lot. About 5 minutes later we had arrived at the car. We hugged each other good bye and when I left, I felt as leaving a part of my heart at the monastery.
After an hour long drive through heavy rain fall I reached the train station at Pascani(the taxi driver must have known the way by heart, mostly it was not possible to see anything except rain on and through the windows and again and again I felt the car was almost more like a boat then a car, so much water was on the street). I bought my ticket, had to wait just some minutes and then at two at night the train to Bucharest arrived at Pascani station. Shortly after I found my seat, the woman next to me shouted “it rains inside the wagon, it rains inside the wagon”. Well, the next 6 hours us 5 persons got accustomed to the situation that our little 6-person-department was not rainproof. Actually I was lucky, just my long skirt got soaked with water. And since I am used to travel, even under these conditions I could mostly sleep quite ok.
Around eight in the morning the train arrived in Bucharest. I didn’t have a distinct plan my last day in Romania yet. Even though still early for a Sunday morning I called the two numbers of the two guys that live in Bucharest. The first one did not answer. The second one got to the phone right a way… “Claudia, hi, ok, it’s fine, in an hour I’ll be at the train station. Then we can do something”. That was Mircea. I had known him only via email. Through the “hospitality club”.
An hour and a good cup of latte macchiato later Mircea stood in front of me. He looked like a really nice guy and I felt like being friends at once. Mircea - as an inhabitant of Bucharest – was the perfect person to show me around Bucharest. When I arrived my first day from Vienna, Bucharest was all grey. But today it was a Sunday, it was sunny and that reflected from every corner of the city. Talking a long walk, we passed beautiful park areas, where old and young people sat on benches, listening to a life concert, we saw different churches and stopped at two very nice restaurants. Mircea told me a lot about the time of communism, but also about his travels and photography (he even got the invitation from National Geographic to photograph for Romania). So it was a real pleasure to have met him this last day in Romania.
At 7 PM – about an hour later then planned – the Austrian Airlines took off. It seemed like a dream, when I looked out of the window, when Bucharest became more and more distant, when clouds passed quickly and when less then one and a half hours later I landed in Vienna again. Like a dream. Real and unreal at the same time.
When I go back to Romania I know, I have friends there, which await me. And that is, what warms my heart. No matter if they are “like me” or if they are different on several levels. I am happy I had the chance to see and experience so many different sites and ways of life in Romania and especially I am thankful I got to know more about orthodoxy.
Through meeting the people a meeting with the “heart” of the country was possible.
…Romania has left its imprints in my soul …
I am back to Vienna. But Romania has left its imprints in my soul. After having been there for two weeks altogether, I feel that my concept about the country and people that I had, when I arrived in the beginning, has changed a lot. From other travelers I learned that I was not the only one that had to get used to the “slowness of being”. They told me that it normally takes about 3 days to adjust to life in Romania from the “speeding society” we come from.
When I look back, I’d say first of all, I am content, that I did not follow my first impulse to leave the country as soon as possible and go back to Vienna earlier then planned. After I opened up to “sink into” the country and what it offered – even though, or especially because it rained a lot there – it became more and more close to my heart.
MOLDAVIAN MONASTERIES IN THE BUCOVINA...
The first week I saw practically all the moldavian monasteries of the northern part of Romania, called Bucovina. I enjoyed the enormous beauty of the frescos on the outer and inner walls of the monasteries. But since they are more and more well known all over the world, I felt that they were visited mostly like museums or cultural sites rather then experiencing them as “dwelling places of the Lord”. I guess by the declaration of the UNESCO as world heritages these places became even more famous around the globe.
So one day I was thinking “Lord, actually I came here to look for you, to feel your presence here, but it’s hard to perceive you with all these tourists rushing around… I would like to see some nuns or people that really dedicate their life to finding you, where are they?” … Then I also realized that maybe the blame had to be put on me… Have I searched hard enough for inner peace? Have I rally been looking for people that want to find God?...
The same night – at Sucevita - I met Mirela and her husband Marian. After having talked to them for a while I found out that this young couple loves to see monasteries. Mirela even sang in an orthodox choir… Shortly later they asked me if I would like to go with them to see some more monasteries the next day. I agreed. It was wonderful. Not only did I see places, that I would have had difficulties to see without having an own car, in addition I also had lovely Romanian company while visiting Putna – a men´s monastery and Arbore, another small orthodox place with beautiful paintings and a romantic graveyard.
The following night I was even more amazed, both asked me if I wanted to come with them till National Park Ceahlau. Actually – as an enthusiastic trekker - I had brought my trekking boots and poles to Romania. But because of the stories that I had heard before (that the chances to meet wolves, bears or most likely wild hoards of aggressive dogs in the wilderness), I was recommended again and again not to walk alone through the woods. In the long run my adventurous spirit was bigger and so I went with them. They left me at Izvorul Muntelui and from there I began the path up to the cottage Cabana Dochia in the higher mountains on my own.
When I realized that the way was really quite steep (plus I had to carry all my luggage of about 23 kg on my back), I hoped it was really a good I idea to do that trip by myself. Time passed and I was not sure if I would really make it before dark to reach that cottage “Cabana Dochia”. It was steeper than I thought and the first marks that said I would reach the Cottage after 2 hours 45 minutes showed up after I had walked already 30 minutes - twice as much as was indicated at the park entrance. So I figured out I had to speed up more to make it in time to my sleeping place. But how??? In addition it was slippery from all the rain that came down the days before. I thought I was walking slower then my grand ma. With all that luggage on my back. Then thoughts about the wild dogs and wolves came back… I didn’t even have a whistle with me.
Anyhow, after having walked – it seemed for ever – through the forest, I finally reached the cottage. It was a perfect timing. I got there just right to enjoy the sunset. And I was astonished when I found out, that I had walked the way in actually 2 hours, where others took 4-6 hours… So altogether I had reached the peak, I felt victorious and proud of my self. To just a moment later feel a little ashamed. Why should I feel proud? I was lucky that God gave me the courage to walk up there, that I didn’t meet any wild animals, that he gave me enough strength and good health… This is not “my” victory… Anyhow, away with the entire analyzing mind “what is good, what is bad, whose victory is it etc… stupid thoughts, just enjoy the beautiful nature”, I thought….
Why did I walk up that mountain to Cabana Dochia? Because before Mirela and Marian had shown me a map with some photos. On one of them I saw a “shitul” a little hermitage / chapel standing lonely on a beautiful mountain top. That was – what had a very strong appeal to me… After having seen the famous moldavian monasteries of the Bucovina, I wanted so much to be at a simple place “full” of God, and that was exactly, what the picture on their map looked like….
I found the little wooden chapel. Well, it was still there – very close to the cottage “Cabana Dochia” where I stayed over night. BUT, right next to it – not even 4 meters away – Romanians had built a new “pastoral cultural center”. I couldn’t believe my eyes. What a shame! They had destroyed all the romantic and special touch of that place by putting an ugly building right next to that sacred site, where hermits and monks used to live before.
Anyhow, the next day I got up early and walked around the vast plateau to enjoy the beautiful surrounding. Later on I went to the top of Mount Toaca. A steep, wooden – almost rotten – ladder lead up to that peak. After having enjoyed the terrific views I speeded down, having the remark in my head that a French guy just said a little before… “Attention, there’ll be another thunder & lightening and big rainfall soon”. Not good to be on top of any mountain at that time.
Just a little before the cottage Cabana Fantanele the rain hit me (and many others). But in the cozy cottage, I got warm again with great hot white chocolate and pancakes…. Altogether I was more then happy for this nature experience, that mad the trip to Romania even more colorful then I had hoped.
But the highlights of the trip still had to come. When I reached the valley, I realized that the last public transportation of that day was already gone. I had to sleep in the little mountain village Durau. Shortly after I sat down in a little coffee place, I made friends with a group of Romanians. This time we talked in Italian (Italian or English, sometimes also French really helps quite a bit to get around in Romania). We had so much fun, with our little “small talk” that they invited me for a Romanian Barbecue. I accepted and thus got to know a bit of the way how Romanians celebrate life. When I told the group of couples about my further plans to visit more monasteries in the Neamts area, they insisted to take me to Bistrita, one of their beautiful monasteries. I agreed.
Just about 2 hours later I was in Bistrita. While the group said good by to me, a priest that knew one of my new friends, came out. Only later, I realized that this was real luck for me and only through this, I got the possibility to stay in that monastery over night. It was the 14th of August. A special date, because it was the day of the feast of the Dormition of Mary, which is celebrated in a big manner in many Romanian monasteries. In Bistrita I was happy to partake in the nightly candle-light procession around the church that had followed a long vigil with special melodious orthodox songs. There was a festive and quiet atmosphere at the same time… really beautiful.
The next morning (Aug. 15th) I left with the first bus to Piatra Neamts where I changed into another bus that lead directly to Voratec. Just in time I reached that gigantic Monastery complex with maybe a few thousand other peasants and pilgrims. I looked around. All seemed orthodox. Maybe this was the first time where no foreign visitors have invaded the place. But – as I heard - the metropolitan and patriarch of the Orthodox Church were there instead. I followed the long celebration of the Ascension of Mary. Too bad I did not understand the words, but it was beautiful to hear the nun’s choir and to see how the crowd of peasants, religious and believers from different parts of Romania celebrated this feast.
Just before the celebration had begun, I had asked an old nun, if it was possible to leave my heavy backpack in or around her house somewhere. Of course she did only understand Romanian and at first did not really want to. But after a little while she agreed. I was happy I didn’t have to carry that load on my back for several hours. So when the celebration was over I wanted to go back and catch my backpack to take off for the next monastery.
I was really astonished when the old nun – that at first did almost not want to help me – now opened with a smile and indicated me to sit down at a table. Lunch time. The first plate with appetizers was already on the table. Of course on that feast day they served meat. Great for most. Less for vegetarians. Well, what to do? I suddenly remembered I had a little plastic bag in my backpack. When no one else was in the room, I hastened to put in the meat. I did not want to offend anybody by not eating the food that was offered to me so friendly.
The next plate came. Soup. Made with fat by whatever kind of animal. I tried a few spoons until I almost had to vomit. What to do? That soup was impossible to fill into a plastic bag with little holes. My eyes found a little container in a corner of the room. No one there? I looked around me and in a rush opened that container, put in the soup spoon by spoon and closed it away, hoping that for a long time no one would realize, that there is soup in it. I felt a little bad, and thought about the container… Would it begin to smell after some days? Would they find the soup?... Was this already a sin (here they speak a lot about sins)? Well, I decided it would have been a bigger offense to have told them in the face (in German, what they wouldn´t have understood anyways), that I couldn’t eat that soup or else to eat the soup and then vomit it out.
Sure enough the main dish came. Several kinds of unknown meat. And rice in wine loafs… I tried a bit of the wine leaves… It all tasted very strange to me. I felt blessed, that I sat alone in that room. So I took out my plastic bag again and put in the meat and rest of the indescribable food that my stomach resisted to eat.
In the end a coffee was brought to me. Ultra strong. Actually coffee doesn’t do me any good. And the worst is black thick espresso like coffee. And the top of it is, if it’s rather cold. Well. You guessed it. I got it. Great surprise. Ok, at least that time I swallowed it down. The old nun saw me and probably my face. Quickly she brought another cup of coffee. Well, I guess she misunderstood my gestures. But there was no way out. I had to swallow the coffee. I figured I would survive it and swallowed it down. And indeed I survived.
Why did I tell you this story? It was actually less the food but maybe what impressed me most was their friendliness, without having known me before, they had offered everything with all their heart. And I – all I could do, was “trying” to smile and pretend I loved what I got served… I was touched, when I asked for their bathroom. They had a little “Plumpsklo” (something, I don’t even know if it exists in the US- vocabulary… a toilet from ancient times, without water, it’s wooden, with a hole and I guess after some time all the “rests” that fall in the hole will be taken away)… When I wanted to wash my hands, I saw, that they did not even have own water in their nicely furnished house. They bring the water from the well near the house. That’s simplicity. When I took off from Voratec Monastery, I departed with the feeling of leaving new friends (still having the soup in the container in my mind).
I walked down the street and stopped at a curve to get a short rest from my heavy carriage. I had read it would be a nice walk through the woods to the next big nuns’ monastery Agapia. So I wanted to go that route. I asked a boy who indicated me to go further down. But I somehow had a feeling he did not tell me the right way. I decided I would ask an additional time. The next car came. I made signs that it would stop. It was a car full of nuns. I asked them, if that was the way to Agapia. They answered “Yes, would you like to go?” I nodded. And they invited me to come along with them. I was more then happy for that offer. After a few hundred meters, the driver – Irina – told me in English “Do you know who is sitting next to you?” I said, I didn’t. “It’s the mother superior of Agapia”. Wow. “Would you like to stay in Agapia?” I said, yes, if it is possible, I would like to stay over night. “Mother superior gives you the blessing to stay over night”. I was really happy, when I heard that. What kind of luck!
When we arrived at Agapia, Irina – the driver with beautiful blue piercing eyes – showed me my room. As I came to know later, it was one of the best rooms in the monastery. Far better then the rooms of the nuns. Then she brought me to the kitchen and gave me to eat. Another time! Well, this time, the food was already better. Not great but a lot better. And since before I had eaten almost not at all, now I made up for it. After we left the kitchen area, I talked to Irina and another nun about orthodoxy, fasting and balance… Doing everything in balance. Not over- or under eating etc.
A minute later someone called us to the upper floor of the big monastery. I was guided into a big saloon. Another table full of dishes was there. I was asked to sit down again. And to…right… EAT. Again. “But I just ate! So much about fasting and balance”, I thought. “Mother superior invites you to eat here”.
I realize that this is not the time, where I should say, that I am not hungry because I have just eaten. It is the time to do you best, to honor your host. So I try my best to eat everything that is being served. Three dishes again. The food gets better with every plate. The best is the cake. I hear Agapia is well known for its cakes made without eggs, milk, butter… (in orthodoxy they fast a lot more then catholic Christians do; with fasting, they mean, refraining from different kinds of food, for instance no meat, no animal products etc…).
After the “food experience” of this day, I see that God really cares over abundantly and also with a twinkle in his eye for his little kids. I felt treated with lots of humor and love from his side.
After having attended the three hour service at night, Irina and Ada come to bring me some tea and honey. (Here church service lasts mostly from 5. – 8.00/ 8.30 in the morning and in the evening, additional in the afternoon for 1,5 hours. On feast days or special occasions the prayer times can be even longer. Mostly they sing their liturgy). I show them some pictures from Israel/Palestine and Argentina. They especially like the pictures of orthodox priests. Then they ask me “How long do you like to stay? You know you can stay longer if you wish!”. I told them, that I intended to leave the next morning, to visit a few more monasteries. They repeated the invitation that I could stay longer, then they left my room.
The next morning I wake up through the Toaca – the wood that gets beaten rhythmically at 5.00 AM to remind everyone to go to church and pray. I lie in my bed and feel lucky that I am here in this monastery, that my desire is granted. That I am able to experience much more of the monastic orthodox life now, then if I would only come for a short while to see the “outer” maybe more superficial beauties of the monasteries like the paintings of Artist Nicola Grigorescu at Agapia etc….
Suddenly it strikes my mind “what if I would stay here instead. I imagine that there are more people around the globe that would be interested to know more about this place. What if I ask mother superior, if I can make an article with photos on the life in Agapia? Wouldn’t that be even more interesting then solely showing pictures of the beautiful monasteries of Romania to people?”. I get more and more enthusiastic about that idea.
After the Morning Prayer I sit down for breakfast with 3 more visitors in that nice saloon. Then mother superior enters. She talks vividly about her childhood. She says, that already as a child she loved to plant. So she did. Her father wasn´t against it, because he said something would grow out of it. Now she is sewing, planting, observing on another level. Now, she is taking care of souls… almost 400 nuns live in Agapia. It is not only a convent, but a real village formed of the convent and houses that are inhabited by nuns. Many of them are very young.
Before breakfast is over I ask Catalina – the woman next to me at the table that speaks English quite well – if she can translate for me (all others just speak Romanian) and ask mother superior what she thinks about me, staying more time, to do an article with photos on the life at Agapia. She looks interested, then agrees. A short time later, a nun is sent to me, which shows me around the monastery. We see different work areas. So we visit nuns, that make garments for priests and nuns. Like several times before, I am surprised how full of contrasts life in Romania is: next to a very old sewing machine there is a machine that I didn’t even know that it exists. It’s very modern, you program it with the pattern that it should sew and then it sews it in high speed all by it self – without human hands.
Then we go and see the carpentry, later on the icon painters. In the afternoon I am called into the library. I see old books in Cyrillic (nowadays they the Latin alphabet) next to a Toshiba laptop. The nun Maria explains, that she has to write a thesis and has to translate a lot from Cyrillic into Latin letters…
If we look closely, life in Romania seems full of these contradictions… There are beautiful painted houses, nicely furnished, but without water. But the owners have mobile phones and at the same time maybe a carriage with horses - “the Romanian Mercedes” as Romanians call it, with humor.
I am very happy when I meet the nun Maica Maria. As she tells me later, she is 57 years old. In her thirties she became a nun. She always adored this life and followed her 20 years older brother on the same way to God. Maica Maria is a very intelligent woman. But much more then intelligent. She has the talent to bring across her belief in a vivid and enthusiastic manner. In fact she told me so much about orthodoxy and orthodox saints, that after the second day at Agapia, I feel very much inclined to stay longer, to get to know more, to understand better… So I do.
The following day, Maica Maria – as my personal nun / guide and friend – is there for me. We pray together (ok, I am more listening, since I still can’t speak Romanian), talk together, share stories of saints – she of the orthodox ones, and I tell her from the saints I know…
In the evening she shows me Agapia Veche – Old Agapia. That is the wooden Monastery with some little houses around more on top of a mountain, in the close by woods. On the way that leads to Agapia Veche, Maica Maria tells me a lot about the communist times that just stopped in 1989. Her brother Ioanichie and many other priests had suffered a lot from that time, had been thrown into prisons in order to not teach orthodoxy anymore etc. But she told me, that because almost all of the spiritual elite were in prison, they formed things like universities in prison, they shared their knowledge, learned different languages, even preached in prison. And some of the priests preached so well, that they got more and more famous and even some communist politicians came to listen to them and to follow their recommendations.
I listened carefully to the many stories Maica Maria told me and was impressed by the harsh but god fulfilled life so many seemed to have lead.
At one point however I became sad. Maica Maria told me, that Pope Benedict XVI. had said shortly ago “the catholic church is the only real church”. I have heard that before. And my heart felt sad before. But here – being together with an orthodox nun, which feels like a friend it even felt worse.
I told her, that this is not my personal opinion and that not all Catholics think like the Pope indicated there. I did not say this to offend the Pope, but I felt from the first moment and still feel, that the catholic church is not the ONLY true one in Gods eyes. How can someone say “my church is the ONLY real church”? Ok, maybe, when you are in love with your church and belief, it makes you say these things and generalize, thinking what you feel is the best for you, must then be the best for all. But I think this is a misconception. Aren’t there “many houses” where God dwells in… Aren’t there different possibilities and ways how to reach him?
Well, when we reached Agapia Veche, I saw an old priest – Father Nestor – standing in the sun, with his white long beard and a big smile. We came closer and began to talk with him. Maica Maria translated every now and then his words that were addressed to me in Romanian. Very shortly after we arrived and after he knew I was catholic he indicated, that everything was fine before the Great Schism (the split of the Roman Catholic Church from the orthodox churches in 1054) … He asked me if I am interested to become orthodox. Only the orthodox is the right way to believe. I got more and more silent. And sad. After a while I could not hide tears that rolled down my cheeks. I felt sad, that also in this beautiful place in the middle of the woods, there was a possibility to hint more on the discrepancies betweens beliefs then to dwell on what unites – Christ – God. I felt troubled, because wasn’t he doing exactly the same as Ratzinger? Just a few minutes ago I apologized for the statement of Ratzinger about “the only true church”, and here I meet exactly the same type of reasoning in an orthodox priest, who´s saying that only his orthodox belief is right. Only then you can be saved if you are orthodox.
He did not want to make me cry, he said. He does it out of love. He said: the most important is faith. The right faith. And I replied with tears in my eyes “for me the most important is love!”. I remembered how many people in the past got killed and mistreated in the name of faith by the different religions. And I felt inwardly destroyed. When will this ever have an end? Why do people again and again have the feeling they have to convince everyone, that only their belief is right? Why can’t there be more possibilities? What is wrong, if someone else is not the same, but is different? Can’t that also be enriching for me? I wonder when will be the time, when we strive to see more the beauty of the “otherness” of the other instead of fearing it, instead of wishing to eliminate it, instead of wanting to prove that I am right and you are wrong.
Maica Maria felt sorry because she saw me cry. And I felt sorry, too. Because I didn’t want to bring her into that position. Anyhow, next she brought me to a little house of nuns at Agapia Veche. There we visited a very old nun that could barely walk any more. She lived there with two younger nuns that are also blood sisters. When asked by Maica Maria to share some of her spirituality with us, the old nun said with a little smile, showing us her small room “you know, this is my paradise”, “I live here since I am 12 years old. Now I am 92. 80 years at Agapia Monastery. And I thank God for this life. You know, one of the most important lessons is to forgive. Many times, when I was mistreated, or people were saying things like “you sing too loud” or talked bad about me, I said to myself “it is not important. It does not matter. Lord, please forgive me and please forgive the other person”.
I was impressed by this little old person that showed such great humility. When Sister Maica Maria and I left after having exchanged lots of smiles, I felt much better again.
On the way down to Agapia, I told Maica Maria about Taizè and Frère Roger. I told her “if I would have to say which of all Christian persons did impress me most, it is Frère Roger. When I was 15 and I saw him the first time my first thought was: why isn’t he Pope?”. He radiated so much pureness, transparency and love that I felt almost thunderstruck, when I saw him the first time in my life. I explained Maica Maria that I just read a new book, where his life concept was quoted “to understand everything of the other person”. It is such a simple phrase. And yet it said everything about the greatness of this saint (even though he is not yet declared a saint yet, in my eyes, he definitely is one – maybe the only saint I met this life until now). How is it possible to understand everything of the other… Don’t we have this urge within ourselves to proof again and again that our opinion is right? How many times do we really try to understand the other, when there are differences? How much do we really care about the other person, about her feelings, thoughts, mindset, belief system and so on? Every time I think about this little phrase “to understand everything of the other person”, it touches my heart. And I think “yes, that is, what I want, too. How can that be possible? Lord, please help me to understand more. Help me to be more patient – with myself and with others. Help me to love more. Help me to search more for a deeper understanding. – Maica Maria listened and nodded about Frère Roger…than looked at me and with teary eyes she said “yes, these are qualities of a real God seeker”.
We took a rest in silence in the little chapel that is dedicated to Mary on the way near Agapia Monastery. Looking at the many flickering candle lights we inwardly added our “Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner” to the many prayers that pilgrims left there along with their little offerings for Mary and Jesus.
When I entered the church at Agapia Valley I realized that the evening prayer had ended. I was too late. Or maybe just in time? I kept standing there, in the middle of the dark church that was lit only by a few lights. Several nuns were rushing around, busy to clean the church for the next morning. At first I just watched these nuns and a short battle of thoughts struck me: “this is too noisy to pray here now, Claudia.” “No, it’s not. Don’t worry. Just be. Just perceive.” Standing there, I became more and more calm. Then my gaze fell on one little young nun. She was cleaning one of the big Icons. It was a silver Icon of Mary with Jesus. One of those that are there to be venerated and kissed by the believers when they enter and when they leave the church. Many times – in Jerusalem and in other monasteries on this trip – I have seen nuns cleaning icons. But this time it was different. So different infect, that I couldn’t take off my eyes of that young nun. What made her so special? Well, at first I watched her curiously, then attentively, then amazed, then touched to the point of almost crying. She was cleaning the Icon in such an intimate way, that I once again felt like a secret spectator (as before in the night where I watched the boy secretly praying in Humor). She was so immersed in her act of serving the mother of God, through which she forgot everything around her. Instead of cleaning the silver of the Icon in the usual rapid way, she caressed it with the cloth she held in her hands. Again and again she halted to kiss the Icon, then looking up to the face of the Mother of God again… Then she continued. I saw her whispering – obviously she was in communion with God. For her the Icon was not just some silver object of Art, but it had transformed into her Beloved. It was incredible to be there, to see this “relationship” between this “object” that became alive through the magic touch of love of that little nun. “That is, what real service is,” I thought.
On this day, this little nun had taught me the most. She said nothing, but her way of acting taught me everything. Maybe she and the little boy in Humor taught me more about the real heart of Orthodoxy than all I heard or read from the other priests and nuns in Romania.
The next day sister Maica Maria invited me to her little house near the cemetery. It has a beautiful garden and a nice wooden balcony. This time I was also invited into the kitchen. There I saw, how simple she lives with her two younger nuns. I watched her while she baked some vegetables that where brought to them by a friend. A little later I found out, that they didn’t even have running water in the house. They always have to go to the well, which is on the path about 100 meters outside of their house. Even though Maica Maria had paid for the building of the house and it was just done in 2003, it was neither isolated well, nor was the roof rain proofed…
Since about 10 years she has arthritis – a disease of the bones that deform and hurt a lot. She hardly takes any or sufficient medicine. It’s too expensive. Maica Maria has worked before she entered the monastery (in contrary to most of the nuns, that enter much younger then she did). Thus she receives a small pension of about 120 Euro. With this amount she has to take care for herself and the two sisters that stay with her. She has to see for themselves how to fix the house, how to sew plants, how to buy extra medicine etc. Even if the mother superior would agree to build a water system that would bring water to several houses of nuns, the nuns would have to pay the major part…When I heard that, I felt sorry for the nuns. Realized once more, how lucky I was, who lives in Austria, with a shower, good isolation, enough or even more then enough of everything.
I guess Maica Maria saw my thoughts written on my forehead. Quickly she said “you know, we are not complaining at all. We are blessed and our mother superior is very good. Blessed be the Lord, our God and Savior”.
When I told Maica Maria about the little nun that I had seen the night before, she said I was lucky I had observed this. And she explained me, too “You know, I have to tell you something about the icons. When we venerate and kiss them, we perceive the icons as mirrors of God. We do not kiss the silver, nor the picture. We give the kiss to God. And through the sanctifying rituals of the priests, the Icon is not just a picture. It really becomes inhabited by the Holy Spirit. Because of this we also have many “miracle icons”. Through them sick people get cured, others blessed etc.
In the afternoon Maica Maria took me to see two more Monasteries that were close. First we visited the monks´ monastery Sihastria. There she visited her sick older brother Ioanichie Balan while I was at least taking some pictures of the beautiful peaceful site. The second monastery was the smaller Secu. Right in the beginning we were greeted with a big smile by the abbot of the monastery. Due to a lack of time we turned back home shortly afterwards. And I saw again, that I take home most with me, when I am as long as possible in those places – long enough to take pictures, to pray, to listen, to observe, to talk to some monastic… In my opinion that is what makes places come alive and gives them a heart.
That evening I went to church and afterwards had the chance to speak to two young Romanian pilgrims. I guess the girls where about 20. They were dressed as many believers are in Romania – in a very modest way. With a cloth to cover their hair, a blouse and a long skirt. They both were very fond of their believe and especially of the psalms. Because the prayer times are so long, and have lots of repetitions, I was surprised to hear from them, that they really love the long services. From other lay people I rather heard the contrary, that they would attend just part of the church service because it was so long etc.
Around 9 PM Maica Maria knocked at my door. She told me she would go and do a night prayer in a little chapel with some other nuns. When I asked her how long the night prayer would last, she told me till about four- five in the morning. I thought, that probably she would do just an hour and then another nun would come to do another shift and so forth, as Catholics would mainly practice night vigils etc. But she told me “no, no, those that do the night prayer, stay the whole time. You can get up for a breath, but you stay till the end”.
Even though I was really tired, before I went to bed, I walked over to the chapel that was seated on the upper floor of the Agapia Monastery. Everything looked dark from outside. “Maybe they postponed it?” I asked myself. But when I opened the door I saw three nuns in the church. One of them was kneeling on the floor, two others where standing. Three little lamps gave just enough light for the nuns to read their holy scriptures. Each one of them read in silence. Every now and then they made the sign of the cross, bowed down or kneeled on the floor. Even though I was so tired, I was very happy I had been invited to see this intimate kind of prayer of the nuns. The silence was filled with a divine peace that permeated the room and even more then that: spirit and heart of the God seekers. This was maybe the third big imprint that my stay in Romania left in my heart.
The next morning I got up early. French visitors that I had shortly met the day before, offered me a free ride to the huge Neamts monastery. So I happily agreed. When we got there about an hour later, they departed at once. I was alone. It was still early, almost no tourists, just a few pilgrims where there. The atmosphere was filled with the songs of the priests, with the sound of the Toaca – the hour wood – and with incense inside of the church. Outside, the morning mist evaporated. It gave way to the rays of the sun that soon heated up the atmosphere.
I enjoyed walking around the vast area of the monastery (I guess at least several hundred hectares), was impressed by some colorful houses, then by other churches and garden areas that all belonged to the monks of Neamts.
At the last place I heard such a beautiful music that I had to stop. It was the most beautiful I have heard so far. So I was very happy it was buyable on CD (for anyone interested: www.byzantion.ro).
Before I had left Agapia that morning I told the kitchen staff, that I was not sure if I would make it back in time for lunch, since I didn’t know how easy it would be to hitch hike or take public transport back to Agapia. Actually, first of all there was no public transport when I was there. But I did not worry at all. I thought “why worry. Lord, you will take care of me. You know what is right and good for me”. Just a few minutes later a little car with a family with two kids stopped. They asked me where I wanted to go, I told them to Agapia. They actually did not want to go there but to Piatra Neamts. But I told them, they can throw me out a little further on the street that would already help. All four spoke Romanian. Just the daughter spoke a little English. With this bit we started a small conversation. And by the time we got closer, they decided, they also wanted to visit Agapia. So, we were laughing – both of us were happy: them, because they got to see another beautiful monastery, and me, because I got back not only easy and as direct as if I would have taken a Taxi, but I even arrived 5 minutes before lunch. “Wow, God, you are awesome. Your timing is just perfect”. When I realized once more, how much God cares about every one of us – even about the tiniest and seemingly most unimportant things – I was really touched.
When I entered the dining hall, all were smiling. They were amazed to see me, too. Food was great, especially the “Agapian” Tiramisu type of desert, that I surely won’t forget. The smiles of the nuns that served us few visitors, made it even more sweet. I couldn’t believe that this was already the last day in Agapia. When the kitchen staff heard I would leave, they told me (one in broken English, another one in German) that they had really liked my stay and my happy way of being. I was glad I heard that, because I was not sure if I was really not disturbing them as a “non-orthodox”, but they invited me to come back whenever I like.
Shortly after dinner had finished, it began to rain. When I saw Irina – the driver that I had met in the beginning – and wanted to say Good-bye, she invited me to her room and I there I sat down with her and some other young nuns. They were curious what I liked best of my stay and what I liked least. So we had a long and interesting, sometimes even challenging discussion about our beliefs.
Around 10 PM I walked to the home of Maica Maria. It was totally dark and the rain still poured down from heaven. We were glad to have the chance to talk a little more, then both of us became really tired. Maica Maria had offered me her room to take a rest. So I layed down on her bed. Only then I realized how hard it was. It did not have any mattress. Just wood, then a carpet like rug and a little thin cover. Really ascetic. I am not sure if all orthodox do that or if just some live that way (she told me that actually there are other religious, they sleep in chairs or on wood). No wonder, why many of them have severe health problems. I was not sure what to feel – some parts of me felt impressed about so much inner strength and humbleness and love for God, another part of me argued “no, that is too much. Why suffer this way? Is this necessary? Does God love you even a penny more for this asceticism? Does he need my suffering to pay me back with his love?”… Well, I am still not sure what to think. Obviously there is always more to understand. And that is, what I would really like: to understand and know more about their life and beliefs.
Then it was time to leave. Shortly after midnight we opened the gate. It was very dark. Almost no houses were alit any more. And the stony path had already become more like a creek then a street. With a little candle in one hand, the umbrella in another hand and the backpack on my back, Maica Maria and I went down to Agapia Valley, where a Taxi was already waiting for me. Just a few steps out of the house, another lightening struck Agapia. And all the rest of the electricity was cut. Now it was as dark as hell. But we felt save. Our feet already knew the way down to the parking lot. About 5 minutes later we had arrived at the car. We hugged each other good bye and when I left, I felt as leaving a part of my heart at the monastery.
After an hour long drive through heavy rain fall I reached the train station at Pascani(the taxi driver must have known the way by heart, mostly it was not possible to see anything except rain on and through the windows and again and again I felt the car was almost more like a boat then a car, so much water was on the street). I bought my ticket, had to wait just some minutes and then at two at night the train to Bucharest arrived at Pascani station. Shortly after I found my seat, the woman next to me shouted “it rains inside the wagon, it rains inside the wagon”. Well, the next 6 hours us 5 persons got accustomed to the situation that our little 6-person-department was not rainproof. Actually I was lucky, just my long skirt got soaked with water. And since I am used to travel, even under these conditions I could mostly sleep quite ok.
Around eight in the morning the train arrived in Bucharest. I didn’t have a distinct plan my last day in Romania yet. Even though still early for a Sunday morning I called the two numbers of the two guys that live in Bucharest. The first one did not answer. The second one got to the phone right a way… “Claudia, hi, ok, it’s fine, in an hour I’ll be at the train station. Then we can do something”. That was Mircea. I had known him only via email. Through the “hospitality club”.
An hour and a good cup of latte macchiato later Mircea stood in front of me. He looked like a really nice guy and I felt like being friends at once. Mircea - as an inhabitant of Bucharest – was the perfect person to show me around Bucharest. When I arrived my first day from Vienna, Bucharest was all grey. But today it was a Sunday, it was sunny and that reflected from every corner of the city. Talking a long walk, we passed beautiful park areas, where old and young people sat on benches, listening to a life concert, we saw different churches and stopped at two very nice restaurants. Mircea told me a lot about the time of communism, but also about his travels and photography (he even got the invitation from National Geographic to photograph for Romania). So it was a real pleasure to have met him this last day in Romania.
At 7 PM – about an hour later then planned – the Austrian Airlines took off. It seemed like a dream, when I looked out of the window, when Bucharest became more and more distant, when clouds passed quickly and when less then one and a half hours later I landed in Vienna again. Like a dream. Real and unreal at the same time.
When I go back to Romania I know, I have friends there, which await me. And that is, what warms my heart. No matter if they are “like me” or if they are different on several levels. I am happy I had the chance to see and experience so many different sites and ways of life in Romania and especially I am thankful I got to know more about orthodoxy.
Through meeting the people a meeting with the “heart” of the country was possible.
…Romania has left its imprints in my soul …
Sonntag, 12. August 2007
SPECIAL MOMENTS IN THE NORTH OF ROMANIA
The first few days of rain taught me to slow down. Slowing down, doing "nothing" is something quite unusual for me. Normally I feel almost like on "speed", I always want to make the most of everything. Allways be active. Never sit or stand still. But here I see that the time is somewhat different. I begin to think more about "doing" and "being".
As my "soul" really arrived in this country, I can see the beauty in just perceiving and doing little.
Here are some of the moments that I want to share with you that make Romania special to me...
AT HUMOR:
I sit on the veranda of the old charming farm house where I rented a simple room and just watch the farmer, the chicken that run around, the dog that barks, the old shoes that stand around the courtyard and the rain drops that pour down from heaven.
At night I become the spectator of something really unusual. After a big thunderstorm - everything is absolutely dark, just one little lamp lights the wet courtyard - I see a little boy (maybe 10 years old), coming out of the farm house. He looks around himself. And as he sees no one else, I see him doing the sign of the cross two times. Then he looks around again, sees no one and continues. He throws himself on the earth, gets up again, and folds his hands and begins to pray aloud.
I feel very touched to see this and am reminded of the story of Saint Francis and Bernardo di Quintavalle. Bernardo - a noble man - once invited Francis to his home. He wanted to test this "crazy holy man". So after the evening meal, he asked Francis to sleep at his place. Shortly after going to bed, Bernardo did as if he fell asleep and Francis - in the same room - rose, when he believed Bernardo was sleeping soundly.Silently he got out of his bed and began to pray fervently throughout the whole night. Bernardo however, deeply touched by what he had seen in secret, was changed by the experience, gave away all his riches and followed Francis on his way towards Christ.
AT SUCEVITA:
Early in the morning I go to the monastery of Sucetiva. As I enter the grounds of the monastery there is no one else except the nuns and a priest. No tourists that normally virtually flood the moldavian monasteries at this time of the year. I hear the nuns praying and singing with beautiful soft voices.
In a meditative mood I am walking slowly around the old church with its magnificently painted outer walls. An old nun comes towards me and laughs childlike, touching my black skirt saying "frumos" which means beautiful. Maybe she likes my dress because I am looking not so different from the nuns all in black. She takes up a long piece of wood and begins to hammer rythmically on it. While she is walking in one direction, I walk in the other direction around the church. As our paths meet again, she smiles at me. This goes on a few rounds. Then her "hammering" ends. She indicates me with gestures to follow her(she doesn't speak any of the languages I speak, and too bad, I still don't speak Romanian). She begins to breathe heavily as we climb up a tower. Up on top of the tower a young nun is hammering on another wood. The sound echoes from the surrounding thick and high walls of the monastery. Then both begin to hammer rythmically... Aaaah, I begin to understand, that is the "wood-hour-ceremony" that I read about before. And I take part in it... as a silent observer... Then the old and the young nun begin to ring the huge iron church bells. They have to put in all there power to move and swing them. The early morning sun begins to shine through the dusty sky. What a mystical moment. I feel like taking a picture. But once more, I remind myself: these moments are too sacred to put them on a picture... Claudia, just take the picture with you heart... And so I do.
The first few days of rain taught me to slow down. Slowing down, doing "nothing" is something quite unusual for me. Normally I feel almost like on "speed", I always want to make the most of everything. Allways be active. Never sit or stand still. But here I see that the time is somewhat different. I begin to think more about "doing" and "being".
As my "soul" really arrived in this country, I can see the beauty in just perceiving and doing little.
Here are some of the moments that I want to share with you that make Romania special to me...
AT HUMOR:
I sit on the veranda of the old charming farm house where I rented a simple room and just watch the farmer, the chicken that run around, the dog that barks, the old shoes that stand around the courtyard and the rain drops that pour down from heaven.
At night I become the spectator of something really unusual. After a big thunderstorm - everything is absolutely dark, just one little lamp lights the wet courtyard - I see a little boy (maybe 10 years old), coming out of the farm house. He looks around himself. And as he sees no one else, I see him doing the sign of the cross two times. Then he looks around again, sees no one and continues. He throws himself on the earth, gets up again, and folds his hands and begins to pray aloud.
I feel very touched to see this and am reminded of the story of Saint Francis and Bernardo di Quintavalle. Bernardo - a noble man - once invited Francis to his home. He wanted to test this "crazy holy man". So after the evening meal, he asked Francis to sleep at his place. Shortly after going to bed, Bernardo did as if he fell asleep and Francis - in the same room - rose, when he believed Bernardo was sleeping soundly.Silently he got out of his bed and began to pray fervently throughout the whole night. Bernardo however, deeply touched by what he had seen in secret, was changed by the experience, gave away all his riches and followed Francis on his way towards Christ.
AT SUCEVITA:
Early in the morning I go to the monastery of Sucetiva. As I enter the grounds of the monastery there is no one else except the nuns and a priest. No tourists that normally virtually flood the moldavian monasteries at this time of the year. I hear the nuns praying and singing with beautiful soft voices.
In a meditative mood I am walking slowly around the old church with its magnificently painted outer walls. An old nun comes towards me and laughs childlike, touching my black skirt saying "frumos" which means beautiful. Maybe she likes my dress because I am looking not so different from the nuns all in black. She takes up a long piece of wood and begins to hammer rythmically on it. While she is walking in one direction, I walk in the other direction around the church. As our paths meet again, she smiles at me. This goes on a few rounds. Then her "hammering" ends. She indicates me with gestures to follow her(she doesn't speak any of the languages I speak, and too bad, I still don't speak Romanian). She begins to breathe heavily as we climb up a tower. Up on top of the tower a young nun is hammering on another wood. The sound echoes from the surrounding thick and high walls of the monastery. Then both begin to hammer rythmically... Aaaah, I begin to understand, that is the "wood-hour-ceremony" that I read about before. And I take part in it... as a silent observer... Then the old and the young nun begin to ring the huge iron church bells. They have to put in all there power to move and swing them. The early morning sun begins to shine through the dusty sky. What a mystical moment. I feel like taking a picture. But once more, I remind myself: these moments are too sacred to put them on a picture... Claudia, just take the picture with you heart... And so I do.
Sonntag, 5. August 2007
THE PICTURE I DID NOT TAKE --- LOOKING DEATH IN THE FACE
Grey. Grey inside of me. Grey outside… The clouds hang deep over Bucharest. I ask myself what I am doing in Romania. Was it really the right choice to come here?
I don’t know the language. I don’t know the country. I am all by myself… I feel a bit lost.
After I found a place to stay I walk through the grey streets of Bucharest. It’s evening time already. I feel like going into a church to calm down and find some inner peace. But almost the same moment that I have this desire, I think “how unlikely, to find a church that will be open on a Sunday night and it will be even less likely that they would let me enter, since I am wearing pants and a top instead of the requested skirt and long sleeve shirt.”
Anyhow, just a few corners further down the road, I see an orthodox church. I step closer and can’t believe my eyes. It is open. A little shy I enter the huge door and ask a man in English if it’s possible to enter with this kind of dress. He invites me to step in.
I am even more astonished as a woman comes toward me and says in German that I am invited. The church is normally closed at this time but today I can participate at a funeral mass which is just about to begin.
A funeral mass. I did not even really think what it would be all about but I stayed. Slowly more people filled the church.When I lifted my eyes, about 30 people stood side by side. Their whispering voices echoed from the dark walls that were beautifully decorated with paintings of orthodox saints. The whispering stopped as 3 deep voices began to sing. The mass started. I left my seat and came closer to the group of people. They were gathered in a little half circle in and around a separate room. At first I only saw some backs of people. Then I took all my courage and took another step forward. Now I saw the backs of the priest. And suddenly my gaze fell on something different. Was that a coffin? Was it a saint that was covered with wax (like they do in many churches)? Or was this even the dead person that the funeral mass was celebrated for? I was not sure what I saw and what I felt.
As my mind wanted to find out what this “thing in the coffin” really was, I saw how hankies were silently given away to the mourning people. Everything happened very silent. No loud crying. It was a very simple but also peaceful celebration.
As suddenly as the celebration began it ended. While a few cookies were given to the people, I was wondering if I could risk going to that room where that coffin was. My curiosity was stronger then my shyness. Indeed, it was a dead person. I had never seen a dead body before. It was absolutely different from what I saw in so many movies before. “No wonder”, I thought, “because in the movies, the actor is just playing as if he died, but of course he is not”. But here, I experienced the first time, what a body looks and feels like, when its breath of life is gone.
The woman was maybe in her eighties. She was dressed in her “best way”. I recognized that she came from a poor family background. Her pale skin was almost looking like wax. Just a little make up gave her transparent skin some color. She appeared as if she would be unreal and real at the same time. Strange. Not shocking, but somewhat indescribable. “So, this is death!”, I thought…. “The first time of my life, I am looking death in the face.”
What a strange feeling. Death – the absence of life - feels so close and yet so far away.
Can’t death happen any minute? To me, to you, to all of us?.. even right now?!
“Strange,… what a strange experience”, these words pop up repeatedly in my mind. What an experience to begin my trip to Romania with!
As a photographer I feel the impulse to take a picture of that person or should I rather say a picture of “death” ? But then I decide this will be the picture I did not take.
Grey. Grey inside of me. Grey outside… The clouds hang deep over Bucharest. I ask myself what I am doing in Romania. Was it really the right choice to come here?
I don’t know the language. I don’t know the country. I am all by myself… I feel a bit lost.
After I found a place to stay I walk through the grey streets of Bucharest. It’s evening time already. I feel like going into a church to calm down and find some inner peace. But almost the same moment that I have this desire, I think “how unlikely, to find a church that will be open on a Sunday night and it will be even less likely that they would let me enter, since I am wearing pants and a top instead of the requested skirt and long sleeve shirt.”
Anyhow, just a few corners further down the road, I see an orthodox church. I step closer and can’t believe my eyes. It is open. A little shy I enter the huge door and ask a man in English if it’s possible to enter with this kind of dress. He invites me to step in.
I am even more astonished as a woman comes toward me and says in German that I am invited. The church is normally closed at this time but today I can participate at a funeral mass which is just about to begin.
A funeral mass. I did not even really think what it would be all about but I stayed. Slowly more people filled the church.When I lifted my eyes, about 30 people stood side by side. Their whispering voices echoed from the dark walls that were beautifully decorated with paintings of orthodox saints. The whispering stopped as 3 deep voices began to sing. The mass started. I left my seat and came closer to the group of people. They were gathered in a little half circle in and around a separate room. At first I only saw some backs of people. Then I took all my courage and took another step forward. Now I saw the backs of the priest. And suddenly my gaze fell on something different. Was that a coffin? Was it a saint that was covered with wax (like they do in many churches)? Or was this even the dead person that the funeral mass was celebrated for? I was not sure what I saw and what I felt.
As my mind wanted to find out what this “thing in the coffin” really was, I saw how hankies were silently given away to the mourning people. Everything happened very silent. No loud crying. It was a very simple but also peaceful celebration.
As suddenly as the celebration began it ended. While a few cookies were given to the people, I was wondering if I could risk going to that room where that coffin was. My curiosity was stronger then my shyness. Indeed, it was a dead person. I had never seen a dead body before. It was absolutely different from what I saw in so many movies before. “No wonder”, I thought, “because in the movies, the actor is just playing as if he died, but of course he is not”. But here, I experienced the first time, what a body looks and feels like, when its breath of life is gone.
The woman was maybe in her eighties. She was dressed in her “best way”. I recognized that she came from a poor family background. Her pale skin was almost looking like wax. Just a little make up gave her transparent skin some color. She appeared as if she would be unreal and real at the same time. Strange. Not shocking, but somewhat indescribable. “So, this is death!”, I thought…. “The first time of my life, I am looking death in the face.”
What a strange feeling. Death – the absence of life - feels so close and yet so far away.
Can’t death happen any minute? To me, to you, to all of us?.. even right now?!
“Strange,… what a strange experience”, these words pop up repeatedly in my mind. What an experience to begin my trip to Romania with!
As a photographer I feel the impulse to take a picture of that person or should I rather say a picture of “death” ? But then I decide this will be the picture I did not take.
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