Trousers: Greek Orthodox Church


Eventually I made my way to the Greek church in the town not so far away. I was wearing trousers again – not that I wanted to prove anything but because at that time I had no skirts in my wardrobe and the dress which pleased ROCOR was unsuitable for the winter weather. This time I appeared to be the conservative: I was the only one who wore a headscarf. The majority of women were in skirts but nobody cared about my skirtlessness. The Greeks stunned me with their boundless hospitality: not only did they greet me warmly, they also invited me to share their communal meal after the Liturgy. I have never experienced anything like that before: there were no communal meals in Moscow churches; there were in ROCOR but I was not invited.

The Liturgy was difficult to follow even with my book of parallel texts in Greek and Church Slavonic: I knew the language of my Church but I was almost unable to read the Greek letters (the Greeks periodically would cease my book and show me there the right lines). Nevertheless, I came for Holy Communion and I received it, and it was more than enough for me. I also felt accepted and not judged, the first time among Orthodox in Australia.


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