I'm getting used to being woken by the bell of Chania's cathedral. It is rung at 7 on most mornings with a simple rhythm and an almost austere, stark clang. This is not intended to be pretty music for the ear but a signal to penetrate the soul - and it rather reminds me of shamanic drumming in the way that the sound vibrates within the body, raising energy and a feeling of well-being.
Like the drum, this bell is a call to the spirit and for me it symbolises the traditional total lack of separation in Greece between everyday life and the sacred - a phenomenon that traces back through centuries of human existence, especially here in Crete. These days, even among those who have little time for organised religion, this connection finds its expression in the way that Greek people live from the heart, keeping their heart always open to human connection.
Even the name of this ornately decorated cathedral is a clue to the past - for it's called the Cathedral of the Presentation of the Virgin Mary and will certainly have been built on the site of an ancient temple to a goddess.
Interestingly, it's just opposite a Catholic church with a delicate, feminine interior and a strangely haunting Madonna statue.
I find the Madonna figure in Chania truly moving as a visible remnant of the sacred feminine and the Mother Goddess so closely related to Mother Earth herself - a concept long suppressed by patriarchal religion with its dominance of sky over earth, spirit over body and, of course, male priests (wearing frocks that they took over from the priestesses of the goddess) over a predominantly female faithful. Did you know that women are not allowed to enter an Orthodox church when they are menstruating?
Yet paradox is a Greek word, so although the priesthood is entirely male, it depends on the approval and support of the thousands of women who regularly attend services, chant the psalms and take on the practical upkeep of church interiors large and small.
One such woman is the blonde power house who cleans at the Presentation of the Virgin Mary. The other morning I spotted her in the small courtyard behind the church, deeply engrossed in rapidly polishing the brass holder that usually contains a tray of sand into which I have pressed a good few lighted candles. After vigorously applying polish with her gloved hands, she took hold of a hairdryer to finish the job.
At first I was amused by the scene as a detached observer, then I allowed my heart to connect with her humanity and I was moved by her concentration and the positive energy that she put into polishing that brass.
There was nothing of the oppressed victim in this woman's manner and the skill and grace that she brought to her work was an inspiration. I'll think of her spirit the next time I light a candle and press it into the sand.
Like the drum, this bell is a call to the spirit and for me it symbolises the traditional total lack of separation in Greece between everyday life and the sacred - a phenomenon that traces back through centuries of human existence, especially here in Crete. These days, even among those who have little time for organised religion, this connection finds its expression in the way that Greek people live from the heart, keeping their heart always open to human connection.
Even the name of this ornately decorated cathedral is a clue to the past - for it's called the Cathedral of the Presentation of the Virgin Mary and will certainly have been built on the site of an ancient temple to a goddess.
Interestingly, it's just opposite a Catholic church with a delicate, feminine interior and a strangely haunting Madonna statue.
I find the Madonna figure in Chania truly moving as a visible remnant of the sacred feminine and the Mother Goddess so closely related to Mother Earth herself - a concept long suppressed by patriarchal religion with its dominance of sky over earth, spirit over body and, of course, male priests (wearing frocks that they took over from the priestesses of the goddess) over a predominantly female faithful. Did you know that women are not allowed to enter an Orthodox church when they are menstruating?
Yet paradox is a Greek word, so although the priesthood is entirely male, it depends on the approval and support of the thousands of women who regularly attend services, chant the psalms and take on the practical upkeep of church interiors large and small.
One such woman is the blonde power house who cleans at the Presentation of the Virgin Mary. The other morning I spotted her in the small courtyard behind the church, deeply engrossed in rapidly polishing the brass holder that usually contains a tray of sand into which I have pressed a good few lighted candles. After vigorously applying polish with her gloved hands, she took hold of a hairdryer to finish the job.
At first I was amused by the scene as a detached observer, then I allowed my heart to connect with her humanity and I was moved by her concentration and the positive energy that she put into polishing that brass.
There was nothing of the oppressed victim in this woman's manner and the skill and grace that she brought to her work was an inspiration. I'll think of her spirit the next time I light a candle and press it into the sand.
I love the pic of the priest with his hands on his hips whilst the woman does all the work! Beautiful cathedral though :-)
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