Tbilisi, Georgia is 9 hours ahead of Central Daylight time in Ames, Iowa. The sun here is set, while at home, illuminating the noon day.
It’s been a solitary day for a couple of reasons.
First, reports are that Tim (Simpson) missed his plane somewhere en route, probably in Germany. So he’s had a long day in an airport terminal, and should be arriving sometime in the middle of this night (or Sunday morning). I’ve been kept up-to-date with an occasional phone call from either of my hosts, Gias or Jim (Herrington) who are finishing up other responsibilities before weighing in on this exploratory trip.
Second, aside from heading into a grocerette and picking up this or that, there do not appear to be any eating establishments (i.e. restaurants) nearby, at least along the routes which I’ve walked. So today, I’ve snacked on stuff I packed along with a couple of cartons of juice from the local grocerette. I think I’ll get to eat a meal tomorrow, which will be nice.
Speaking no Georgian, I’ve barely uttered a word to anyone today. Perhaps a Russian “thank you” once (spah-cee-bah) once to an older woman cashier, at which I almost left my sunglasses. She smiled and was glad I remembered them. Most cashiers here do not hand you your change but rather tosses it in a small flat dish along with your receipt. It’s all rather impersonal, but it gives me a refreshed, and greater, understanding of why people from this side of the world are so publicly shy even when they come to our side.
Most of this day was spent in the apartment working on what I would present in a seminar, one here in Tbilisi and another on the western side of the country, perhaps 100 miles away. The power was back on when I returned from my morning walk, which was a “Yeah!” And, I got some very good preparation done.
As the sun began to set, I set off on an evening walk, perchance to find a place to eat, though my hopes were not high. Walking down to the market area I frequented this morning, I took a right on the main drag and found myself walking up and up and up. No place to eat, but it was clear that on the crown of this large hill there was a major housing area – dozens of multi-storied apartments, vintage Soviet-style and very tough looking…but an area where undoubtedly tens of thousands lived. The evening was cooler and many were out walking the streets with family, friends, etc. Kids were playing soccer in the neighborhood “cages” (my term) which could be found every ½ mile or so.
Further up, I noticed what appeared to be the first church I’ve seen in country, right on the very crown of the hill. A long, winding staircase led up to a gardened courtyard in which were an Orthodox chapel and other accompanying structures, surrounded by walking paths through the gardens. The entire place looked east upon the dozens of apartment complexes, and west across a broad, descending meadow, on the far side of which was more south Tbilisi.
To my delight, I saw worshippers standing at the 2 entrances of the chapel, one at the back and one on the side. I decided to step in and take in a portion of the proceedings.
Inside there were perhaps 50 worshippers, standing on either side of a central aisle, facing the front altar area. Scarved women (mostly older, a few younger) on the left, men without anything on their heads on the right, along with a few women. In the middle of the aisle just before the altar area was a podium that was to be revered. On the walls and the sides of the pillars in the chapel were multiple pictures of saints, Mary and Jesus, and Jesus.
Up front, the altar had a wall on which were four similar pictures, and an arched entry way in the middle, closed off with two swinging doors and behind them, a maroon curtain. Behind the wall, doors, and curtain, the Orthodox priests were chanting (which could be heard by all in the larger worship area). Occasionally, the curtain was drawn, the doors opened, and the priest came out to read something from a holy book, and then he would retire back behind the doors and curtain.
Unrecognizable to me, I did not know what was being said in the chanting. But the worshippers did, and virtually every 3-5 seconds, they all made the sign of the cross (touch head, chest, right shoulder, left shoulder, then bow, then repeat, and sometimes stoop down to touch the floor). This went on for quite a long time. There were a few children there, and they would follow what the adults did. A few candles were lit in several places around the perimeter of the worship center. Most people came and stood for a long time, a few wandered in and out. It was beastly hot in there, and I noted that the fans had not been switched on, which would have provided some relief. Women were allowed to have hand fans.
Present in that setting was reverence and ritual. Absent was joy. No Bibles in the hands of the worshippers. No smiling, no singing (except for the priest, and a small ensemble – perhaps the ensemble was recorded because I did not see one singing). People exchanging somewhat gaunt glances. Even outside there was no fellowship or encouragement.
Most disconcerting to me was the wall, doors, and curtain. I’m sure I don’t understand the necessity of it—and familiarity with tradition might just erase the cloud -- but wasn’t the veil torn in two when Jesus said, “It is finished!” Do only the guys in the special robes get to go in the special chapel with the special altar? How’s that? Are not all who trust in Christ priests, offering up sacrifices of praise? Then what about tens of thousands across the street, and a chapel for 50?
Walking back down the hill, I was struck again by the lostness of the world, and the world’s disinterest in what we present to them as to having a vibrant relationship with the Living God. There were more vendors on the main drag hawking watermelons out the back of their Ladas than there were in that Saturday night service. The lostness of people can be devastating on a Saturday night in the Caucasus. Especially when you don’t know word one of their language.
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