What’s easy to see in all of this is the struggle & challenge in a world permeated by sin & evil – whether it’s political or economic, greed & power driven, or entitlement & security driven. As the discussion went on our new Italian friend asked “Where is the ultimate justice in all this? When will the people who have caused this be judged?” And without missing a beat, our Orthodox Cypriot friend answered “At the second coming, when Christ returns.”

It always seems I start these with a list of “firsts,” but when you live on the edge of Byzantium you get to experience an unending number of them. This is a different world – a world that teeters between frustrating and amazing. But it’s also a world that provides any number of thought provoking experiences: it starts with a Cypriot wedding and ends with a Cypriot funeral.

Earlier this month my wife Cindy and I got to attend our first Cypriot wedding – from start to finish. If you’ve ever seen “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” then you might have some idea of what it’s like to experience it. There are three parts: the wedding, the reception, and finally: the dinner.

The wedding is a rather intimate affair – family and close friends. The reception is a community event: you personally (emphasis on the “personally”) invite everyone you and the family knows. No mailing the invitations – you hand deliver them. If someone in the village, or your part of town, doesn’t get one, then it’s a huge faux paux. Then finally comes the sit down dinner – again a smaller (“small” is relative), more intimate grouping – filled with food, music, and lots of Cypriot/Greek dancing. All of which lasts well into the next morning.

An Orthodox wedding is a beautiful and deeply moving experience. There’s something moving when the priest intones “The servant of God (groom’s name) is crowned in marriage to the Servant of God (bride’s name),” as he places a ribbon-linked silver ring on each of their heads and then leads them around the altar three times to emphasize the eternal nature of their vows.

It’s also wonderful to see, and experience, the joy expressed by the bride’s girlfriends as they dance in a circle around her at the reception celebrating the happiness that marriage is to bring – and simply the joy they feel for their friend.

A few weeks after the wedding, we were invited to dinner by some friends. Besides us, the guests included an Italian-Catholic who lives in Cairo – who sadly, had recently lost her 8-year old granddaughter to seizure disorder – a Syrian-Armenian businessman with his French wife, who lives in Dubai, and our host an Orthodox Cypriot.

Given the recent death of their Italian friend’s granddaughter, the early conversation centered on living in a broken world – and specifically the pain of loss we often feel.

But it also covered the topic of fear, which was very real for her as well, because of the near complete social breakdown in Cairo. Once safe diplomatic neighborhoods are now targeted by thieves – as well as violent criminals. Middle and upper class residents of the city no longer go anywhere alone – they travel in groups or with bodyguards.
Additionally, the assault on churches (both western and Egyptian Coptic) are real – as are the threats of expulsion and/or death.

The friend from Dubai expressed his own concerns over the economic instability caused by the Arab Spring. As orders from businesses throughout the region have dried up he’s been forced to close factories and lay off a large number of workers, who no longer have any means of earning a living. Similarly, our Cypriot friend was concerned that this instability – plus some cultural factors specific to Cyprus – will strangle any opportunity and hope he has for his own children’s future.

What’s easy to see in all of this is the struggle & challenge in a world permeated by sin & evil – whether it’s political or economic, greed & power driven, or entitlement & security driven. As the discussion went on our new Italian friend asked “Where is the ultimate justice in all this? When will the people who have caused this be judged?” And without missing a beat, our Orthodox Cypriot friend answered “At the second coming, when Christ returns.”

His answer, as well as all these events, are reminders that regardless of our nationality, ethnicity, or where we live, we all share in the world’s brokenness – and that as Christian believers (regardless of our tradition) we all share the same hope of the Gospel: that one day ultimate justice will be meted out and the world’s pain, suffering, and subjugation by evil will end in a merciful and glorious way.

It was that hope that enabled us to sit around the table later that evening and share a wonderful meal, and graciously some more lighthearted conversation, despite being such a diverse group of people. In a way it was a picture of the bigger feast and more perfect feast we’ll celebrate the day Christ returns and restores creation. Then like the guests at the Cypriot wedding we’ll all have a chance to dance in the presence of the bridegroom.

This was lived out in a different way at an Orthodox funeral we attended yesterday. Funerals & death are not the sanitized experiences they often are in western society. And in typical Cypriot fashion – saying goodbye to a loved one is both a personal and communal experience.

The focus of the church service is on committing the soul to God, and centers on Psalm 119, John 5:24-30, 6:48-54; 1 Corinthians 15:20-28, and 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18. Although it’s not participatory, it is a liturgical dialogue that acknowledges the frailty of life, the reality of death, and the hope of salvation. But it also recognizes the painful reality of grief and allows for open expression of that throughout the service and at the gravesite.

What was striking, was the acceptance of death as ordinary. People don’t dress for funerals because they’re considered an ordinary part of life – and similar to an orthodox worship service there’s an informality and naturalness to the whole thing.

At the cemetery the focus is no longer on the soul, but the body – and committing the body back to earth until the resurrection. Unlike in the U. S. there is no concrete vault – only a wooden casket. As the priest completes the committal rites, the casket is opened and the family is allowed to say their final goodbye, the body is anointed, and then the open casket is lowered into the ground. While the priest continues the rite, the immediate and extended family fill in the grave with the freshly dug earth, and then leave following the final blessing & benediction.

This sense of communal life – and remembering the deceased – continues at the family home over various breads, olives, halloumi cheese, sweet wine, and coffee – which simultaneously emphasizes the reality and ordinariness of loss, but also the idea of a continued and shared life as a community continues in spite of the loss & the grief.

What we’ve seen in all this is that life & faith aren’t just lived on this island – they’re experienced in a big way. A way we in the western world – and even western Christianity – may have lost sight of and need to grasp again. Hopefully, as technology and business ties bring Cyprus closer to the western world they won’t lose this emphasis on faith, people, community, and life.

Terry Burns is a PCA minister and member of the Presbytery of the Blue Ridge. He is ministering WAY out-of-bounds as the Pastor of the independent Nicosia Community Church in Cyprus. He writes an occasional dispatch for the folks back home. Email him at [email protected]