Before the Cross
Hello there! You thought I'd given up writing about our pilgrimage to Cyprus, hadn't you?
The last week has been a whirlwind of activities—we've visited monasteries, churches and holy sites and seen incredible works of art and relics. I'm still planning on posting more about this trip and the piety and holiness we've experienced in so many people here, but as we're packing up the car, preparing for many, many hours of travel to get back to our home in the states, I thought I'd put up one post about our incredible, last minute pilgrimage to venerate a piece of the True Cross.
When Jake was researching this trip, he read there was a piece of the Cross at a remote monastery that only allowed male visitors. As the weeks wore on, it looked doubtful he would make it and I was admittedly disappointed that Audrey and I would not get to see something so wonderful.
Last night, while I was putting Audrey to bed, he was reading a source book about Byzantine sites in Cyprus and discovered there was a small monastery not twenty minutes from our village that also housed a piece of the cross. After lunch, we climbed in our car for our last pilgrim drive, not sure what to expect. This week we've seen the richness of Kykkos monastery, the Island's most famous, and also visited one of the oldest Christian sites in Cyprus, the catacombs where Paul and Barnabus catechized some of the first converts.
Most of this monastery's land had been sold to the Trevi Golf Club and we had to ask directions at the pro shop. With a look of concern, the woman behind the counter warned me there was only one priest at the monastery and he might be away. We followed her directions, driving off the paved road and parking in front of simple, but open gates. As Audrey woke from her nap, I carried her into the garden where the hieromonk was watering the flowers. Before I could even ask for his blessing, he had pulled a bright pink geranium from the nearest pot and handed it to my shy little girl. He asked our names and directed us to the little Church, then picked right up singing and directing a plastic green hose of water into the garden.
When we entered the Church, it was simple yet beautiful, home to none of the gleaming brass or silver worked icons we'd come to recognize all over Cyprus. Audrey dropped her Euro in the box and there was no clink—this was a site rarely visited. After venerating an old and weathered icon of St. Constantine and St. Helena, we walked up to the iconstasis. There, just to our left of the alter, was a large silver cross with a 2 inch square of wood near the base. It was weathered and smooth, simple just like the Church.
On this trip, we've seen spare and rich, ornate and simple. There have been many things that have taken my breath away or elicited long conversations about the beauty of what we've just seen. Our little family venerated the Holy Cross and slowly walked back to the car. For a long stretch, no one said anything.
There is nothing so simple and so essential to our faith than the Cross. How fitting it was to finally see it in a place of holy simplicity, generosity and piety.
| Comments |
|
