I love the Orthodox tradition of sharing the Holy Fire from Jerusalem at Easter. Last weekend my wife was back in London so I was a single parent for Easter in Bucharest with our two younger daughters (and one of their friends). We went to the midnight service at our local Orthodox Church. There was something truly mystical to be standing in the pitch darkness of the church until the priest emerged through the doors of the iconostasis with the Holy fire and the building was rapidly filled with light. Then clutching our candles and cupping our hands over flickering flames, we made our way home through the night along with the congregations spilling out of churches across the city. There were pools of light at every intersection as people waited to cross the road, lights along the pavement from pedestrians walking home, and every car and even a bicycle was illuminated by candles being borne back to homes around the city.
The light from Jerusalem is passed from candle to candle, and shared by strangers in a common ritual. One friend told me how she was disturbed by a security van which screeched to a halt next to her as she walked home. A burly guard jumped out with a tiny candle and asked her for the light. And about a disabled man in a wheelchair dressed for church but unfortunately unable to make it there (disabled access remains a big problem in the city). Instead he waited at the bottom of the stairs for a neighbour or passer by to share the light with him.
A flame is a very ancient symbol – of love, of wisdom, of inspiration. It is a privilege – not being Romanian or Orthodox- to be able to share the flame and the tradition with friends in Romania.
Lumina din Lumina! Happy Easter!
