Marking the day of her brother's death, Maria asked me to go to Church with her and participate in the Pomana. It is a ceremony that is done every Friday at church for remembering the dead. I've been to church so much lately, I've just started carrying a head scarf in my bag. As we placed our bread, wine, candy, and candles on the table, Maria's words marked the true extent of our friendship. She said, "Melissa, I don't know about my boys. I need to teach you this, so that when I die you will know how to do this. You have to do this every year!" She was laughing, I was not, the other women waited for my reaction, and despite being in church, all I could utter was "doamne fereste," a clear violation of the fourth commandment.
This service is short and simple. Maria's commentary continued to be colorful. She was the only woman in the room not wearing a skirt, so she said I had to stand in front of her. Last time, when the elder of our two priests was reciting the service, he told her she couldn't be there without a skirt. It's one of the many reasons we prefer the younger, red-headed priest, Sergiu, that you have seen pictured in this blog. She also said the older priest, Ion, read through the list of dead so fast she didn't hear her relative's name being mentioned. Sergiu got it just right, and even I could pick out the family name we'd come to honor.
When I go to church, I merely observe. I might repeat things I believe to be true, but I do not cross myself and do not kiss idols or the hands of priests. This time, as the line of women finishing kissing the priest's hand, he turned to me and titled his head the way our old dog used to do when he heard his name. As if to say, "well young lady, we'll get you soon enough."
No comments:
Post a Comment