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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