Men of Faith part 2

"Dzigarson (good-hearted person)" Levani was gladly filling my shot glass with more honey schnapps. After the birthday celebration we found ourselves at his and Father Ermo's house and were introduced to his amazing family - his good-humored wife, and his three children: Giorgi, Luka and Nini who striked me as one of the most content families I had ever met.

"It is not important if you are a Catholic, an Orthodox or even a Muslim. If you have a good heart and do good, God loves you and will bestowe you with his favor. Although Orthodox Christianity is the oldest and purest form of worshipping Christ, rituals are not as important as deeds. God listens to you as he does me and he knows what is inside of you..."

I talked with Father Ermo well into the night and after getting to know this tolerant and enlightened man I understood how it was possible that his children could be so beautiful and peaceful. Little Giorgi, a ten-year old black haired boy, gave me an affecionate hug and left for bed, he was followed by his somewhat younger brother Luka - their eyes, so innocent, so tender, nothing fake about their love for one another, not a mundane routine before going to bed but honest emotions. I felt the harmony of their family and it felt good - the thought of settling and building such a loving community raced through my head again as it had many times during these four months of walking, questioning and learning. Perhaps my time would come soon...

Laying in a warm bed I thought about the cold outside, how lucky we were to have found such a good man. Again "chance" had brought us together with a gentle person willing to share, to teach and to learn. The birthday feast, the simple yet tastey dishes of beans, mushrooms, fried fish, the tamada, the sense of community and brotherly love shared by the Georgians that evening all reminded me of the early Christians, the ancient followers of Christ who in my opinion were more like hippies than most of the conservative leaders representing this denomination today...

Tim was quiet that morning as he accompanied me to my first Orthodox mass - conducted by our host Father Ermo. The two hour celebration of Christ was interesting to say the least. The women wore scarfs on their heads out of respect towards God as do the Muslim women in mosques. The long-bearded priests chanted endlessly as Father Ermo blessed the golden/silver icons of Christ, the Virgin Mary and other saints with potent incense and smoke. The congregation chanted along with the priests at times and repeatedly made the sign of the cross with three fingers from the right to the left as it the ancient way. Often they kneeled down to the hard marble floor to kiss the ground or to touch their foreheads to it - again strinkingly similar to the Muslim customs I had witnessed in Turkey. Compared to Western Christian services Orhtodox masses were a marathon of prayer, reflection and penatence - no sitting, no breaks, constantly chanting, praying and at times singing.

"I don't feel so good," I turn to hear Tim say before he makes his way out of church. People look at him, at me, as they had been doing the entire time - asking themselves what we were doing there and why we weren't bowing or making the sign of the cross, or why we had not kissed the central icon on our way in?

Towards the end of the gruelling ritual, the vladika (something like a bishop) appears behind the curtain on the altar. He is a large, round-bellied man with white hair and beard. He is ordained in a golden robe and a large hat with a golden cross on top of it. As he struts to a throne-like chair in the middle of the church the people seem to hold their breath. He blesses them by touching their heads and spreading incense and smoke around. It was as if the people felt that God himself had entered the room....Giorgi, a young assistant to Father Ermo, comes up to me and tells me that he would take me to be blessed by the bishop and I soon find myself cutting in line to have the vladika draw a cross on my forehead with some sweet smelling ointment as I kiss his hand...

As the mass finishes Tim returns and appears paler than usual. "You OK man?" "I feel like I'm coming down with something. I might have a cold." "Shit" I thought to myself "Tim was always getting sick and after spending so much time in Batumi I really didn't want to be stuck in Ozurgeti. We were close to Tbilisi, ten days of walk away, and I was eager to finish this, to start getting back to the "civilian" life, to start implementating some of the things I had learned along the way, to find out how much I had changed, but it was going to be a while before that happened....unfortunately....

After mass, Father Ermo approaches us:"Father Basili insists that you spend a day at his place"....and so Tim and I were transported from one loving home to another...a home we would get to know very well...