Byzantium

Greetings, dear readers!

Owing to the diurnal schedule my husband has had to keep all week for work, we decided to go to Mass at an earlier time this past Sunday. I selected a Byzantine Catholic church here in town since it was a place I had been wanting to visit for a while.

Lady of Czestochowa

The first time I had ever heard of Eastern Rite Catholicism (which is what the Byzantine church in this post follows for its liturgical structure) was when I was in my early teens and my dad told me about an Eastern Rite church he'd visited in college. My father, who despite his hatred of Ukrainians for their obnoxious nationalism, had a few relatives who married into Ukrainian families and it was through this route that my dad had the opportunity to visit an Eastern Rite Catholic Church after a friend of his cousin invited him to go. Even though he had been raised Russian Orthodox and indoctrinated with all the cultural anti-Catholicism that comes with being Russian, my dad had visited Catholic churches on a few occasions. He had an idea of what to expect, but at the same time he wasn't sure what he'd see. He came away from the visit feeling ambivalent. He recognized the Eastern layout and was cool with that, but he wasn't crazy about praying for the Pope.

I first became aware of a Byzantine Catholic church here in southern Arizona around 2012, when my good friend with whom I sat and passed out pro-life literature on the main lawn of the University of Arizona campus, mentioned them to me. There were a few women in the Latin Mass church we attended who were former parishioners there, he informed me. Given my Serbian Orthodox background, the existence of a Catholic church structured in a way I was familiar with piqued my interest, but receded to the back burner of my mind as the concerns and dramas of life took over. The Byzantine church would continue to periodically pop up on my radar over the next few years, but it didn't really register until recently after a near-altercation between my husband and a rude parishioner at our Carmelite church. I figured now was as good a time as any to come and check the place out.

I did a side part, and then from there I did this crown braid. Obviously, Sunday morning's version of this hairdo was neater than this. Its been in for a few days

View from the back. This style is actually a little bit harder than it looks

In a sharp departure from my usual protocol, I actually dressed up nicely for church. Normally when I go to church, I wear my Lady Guadalupe tshirt with pants and topped off with my Lady Guadalupe bandanna. This outfit has been my default Sunday attire for the last three years. Today, however, because we were NOT going to our usual churches, I decided to put on a good first impression. I wore a nice dress and did my hair specially for the visit. I did not pack my bandanna, as I didn't think I needed it.

When we first arrived, I marveled at how small the church was. It was tiny compared to our usual churches, though realistically, it was about the size of a single-family home. We entered inside and took our seats in the back. The altar setup was very reminiscent of my childhood, though the icon wall hiding the altar was not nearly as large or elaborate as what I had grown up with. A reader and a deacon were standing at the altar doing some pre-Mass readings, but shortly after we sat down, the priest came up to greet us. Since we were new, he handed us a missalette to follow along with the Mass. I skimmed through the missalette while the baby blew raspberries at some old ladies sitting next to us. Were it not for the wording being a little different than I remembered, it could very easily have been something I recognized from my youth. As the people came in and took their seats, I recognized a number of people from the other churches we went to, including a fellow ex-Latin Mass goer! I was also pleased to see lots of children, from a newborn baby up to school-age.

With today being Pentecost, I was pleased to hear that the entrance song to kick off Mass was the same song my favorite Carmelite priest, Fr. Thomas Koller, used to sing for the entrance song whenever it was his turn to say Mass. The rest of the Mass that followed was different from what I remembered, but then again, it had been over six years since I had set foot in an Orthodox church and I had all but forgotten how a liturgy went. The music sounded different from what I had grown up with too, even though content-wise, it was the same. The priest delivered an excellent sermon, though I wound up having to leave halfway through it because the baby got cranky and needed her titty break. Thank goodness there was a kiddie ghetto, and there were quite a few toddlers of varying ages in there.  The baby got distracted by the other toddlers and wanted to play, but the one toddler she did play with kept pulling my daughter's hair, a move in which her mother and myself stepped in to separate the girls from each other. It wasn't out of malice that the other toddler was pulling my daughter's hair. The toddler herself didn't have much hair on her own head, so seeing a head full of hair on a person similar in size fascinated her. Guess my baby's luscious mop of wavy brown hair is irresistible to both biggers and littlers alike!

As for Communion, it was distributed by spoon, just like how I remembered; though I'd forgotten just how far I needed to tip my head back so that the priest could dump the wine-soaked piece of bread into my mouth. I also tried not to chew on the bread, as per what I'd learned in my Catechism class. As I passed the icon arrangement set up in the middle of the church (there's a name for it, but I can't remember what it is), I noticed a few bowls behind the icon which were covered in thin towels with geometric Slavic embroidery. It made my heart jump with joy. At the end of the Mass, we went up to the priest for the final blessing and we had our foreheads annointed with myrrh. It smelled nice, but it was different from what I remembered. The myrrh of my childhood had a far sweeter smell, as opposed to the soapy one offered here.

Russian embroidery motifs

Finally, after the long Mass was over, we went into the hall for some coffee and snacks. We socialized a bit with some of the other parishioners too, but we couldn't stay long because my hubby had to work that evening and the baby needed to go home for a nap. The ones we talked to seemed to have come to the Byzantine church as a last-ditch effort to find a reverent parish and save both their souls and sanity. I met a family who were also ex-Latin Mass churchgoers (though the church they had attended at the time was way up in the foothills of the mountains, just barely within the city limits) and the time just didn't work out with their schedules. We were also recognized by a young couple from the Carmelite church, who also shared our displeasure at the chaotic behavior of the Mass attendees there. We rounded out our visit by chatting a bit with a friend of ours from the Latin Mass church who we saw there, and talking to the priest. He seemed like a nice, intelligent man who had a strong connection with the Holy Spirit. After I mentioned my background in the Serbian Orthodox church, the priest told hubby and I that there were actually a few couples at this church who were like us: one Serbian spouse and one Catholic spouse, and the decision to attend Mass at this church was sort of a compromise in honor of each sides religious traditions. I didn't think to ask him, but I wonder if he celebrated Slava for these particular parishioners.

Overall, my experience at the Byzantine church was a positive one. There wasn't a magic "aha!" moment indicating we'd found a home parish when we were there, unlike the first time I'd set foot in the Latin Mass church; but it marked a turning point for me because I could now go to an Eastern church and the negative memories I associated with it from forced attendance in my youth didn't bother me anymore. Hubby and I resolved to return here again soon.

Not mine, but it says "Born in America, but my heart is in Serbia"

The Church isn't fond of it, but occasionally, my diehard Serbian nationalism leads me down some strange and wonderful paths. I love the Catholic Church dearly, but I want my children (and husband) to know their culture and celebrate it. I may have serious disagreements with my family, but one thing they were adamant about was not forgetting our culture and that is probably the one thing I can truly thank them for.

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A Short Review of Beer: Baltika, Grade 9

Hello, dear readers!

Here is something that hasn't been seen for a while in these parts: a beer review!

Look at that golden lager goodness!

Today, after my husband made some herring paste using smoked herring he bought at the Euro mart, I decided to break out one of the Slavic beers I bought. Since herring is a common Russian food, I thought it appropriate to consume the Russian beer with it.

Named for the port on the Baltic sea where the Russian Navy is anchored, Baltika has since grown from its incorporation in the early 1990s following the fall of the communist government to become the largest brewer of Russian beer in the world. True to Russian tendencies, the brewery is state-owned and based out of St. Petersburg. Its different varieties, labeled as "grades", are exported all over the world to be enjoyed by consumers everywhere.

This is not the first time I've had this particular grade of Baltika. Shortly after the baby was born, a friend of mine was moving and needed to get rid of her alcohol because they were moving to another state (apparently, there is some stupid law on the books left over from the Prohibition days that says alcohol can't be transported over state lines). I took the beers since I'd been reading about how beer could help with milk production for breastfeeding (I never had problems with my supply, but it doesn't hurt to make sure everything's working as it should). She had a number of exotic beers, as well as domestic brands, and Baltika Grade 9 was one of the imports.

Then as now, I broke out my trusty frosted beer mug and popped open the bottle. It had a modest head and a light golden color. The smell is nice and malty, but not pissy. After taking a sip, the beer went down nice and smooth with little bitterness which is good because it's a lager. It's not terribly light, having an 8% alcohol volume, but with sufficient food in the belly, there's not much of a buzz.

Just as I thought, Baltika Grade 9 goes well with salted and smoked fish like herring. I also found that it went well with some canned spaghetti that I had for dinner. In general, it's a good all-around beer and I was reminded about how pleased I'd been with this grade the first time I tried it. Baltika Grade 9 is definitely a keeper.

For more information on the Baltika brewery, check out their website here.

As always, please drink responsibly.

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A Trip to the Euro Mart

Good evening, dear readers.

Today was a day I had been looking forward to all week. This past weekend, in the aftermath of my family's visit, I was googling where I could find Serbian beer for sale in town, and lo and behold, I stumbled across a Euro mart. Owned by a Ukrainian family, it was located on the east side of town and sold all kinds of goods from Eastern Europe. This included beers from Russia, the Ukraine, the Balkans, and Poland. I wanted to go and check it out, so today after my husband got his medicine, we went and took a friend with us. She hadn't seen our cholomobile yet and needed a ride home, but she didn't have any plans for the afternoon and tagged along with us.

The helpful proprietress and her wares. Pic found here

Upon arriving in the strip mall where it was located, I thought immediately of the Serbian delis I used to visit while growing up in Illinois, as well as a few up in Phoenix that I've frequented in my old life. There were mineral water and beer advertisements in the windows, as well as a sign proclaiming how good the gyros were. Inside, the shelves were packed with Russian and Polish goods as well as jars of pickled stuff. I literally was like a kid in a candy store! It was not cheap, however. Compared with the delis I've been to, the place was a racket! But, it's a specialty store for a community that isn't really big, so I can deal with the prices because this is the reality of the Slavic community here in southern Arizona. At least the store accepted EBT.

Russia's largest beer company, with all its varieties. Pic found here

My husband got a few jars of pickled herring (yuck!) and I got some fillo dough to make pita as well as some Russian cookies for the baby. I also fulfilled the mission that brought me to the store in the first place and bought a few bottles of beer. I bought a bottle of Baltika (grade 9) which is a Russian beer brand, and two Serbian beers that I remembered from my childhood: Niksicko (actually, they're from Montenegro) and Jelen. I saw some other beers from Bosnia and Croatia as well as plenty from Russia, Poland and the Ukraine. Again, these bottles of beer are not cheap (my Serbian beers went for almost $3/bottle and the Baltika was like $7 cuz it was a pint as opposed to a 10-oz bottle), but until I can find them elsewhere in town for cheaper (I don't think you can order them online), a once-in-a-while trip here when we have money is ok for sampling. The proprietress recommended the Baltika as her favorite beer. I was surprised to see how many varieties (or "grades") the brand puts out.

This is what I had to drink. The neon green color captured my attention. The label says "tarhun" and it definitely tastes different than your average American carbonated beverage. Supposedly, it was originally created in a Georgian pharmacy when a pharmacist mixed some carbonated water with tarragon syrup. Pic found here

We had lunch at the Euro mart. My husband wanted to try the gyros, and our friend had never even heard of them. So, we ordered some. I was a little disappointed by the inclusion of lettuce with the gyros (I'd never heard of such a thing prior to coming out to Arizona because all the gyro places in Chicago never did that. I still think it's an abomination), but the rest of it was good. It wasn't bad price wise and to wash it down, I had a bottle of Russian pop. It was neon green in color and tasted like anise, but the English translation of the label listed it as being made from tarragon seeds and vanilla extract. It wasn't bad, just different. I almost picked a bottle of kvass to drink, but decided lunchtime was too early to be drinking alcoholic beverages, even if they're low alcohol. Our friend had some of the gyro and was impressed with it. I told my husband next time we came that we would have the cabbage rolls ("sarma" in Serbian). I wanted to see how they were made as compared to what my grandma made when I was growing up.

Overall, my thoughts on our trip to the Euro mart were positive. Yes, it's expensive, but it's a specialty store catering to a small community. I won't let the prices stop me from coming here when I need stuff like fillo dough or Slavic beers, just because they're things I can't get elsewhere.

After we paid and left, we took our friend grocery shopping so she could get some needed items and then took her home. She was grateful for the errand and was immensely pleased with our car.

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Art of My Ancestors

Here's something you don't see everyday.

Svarog (similar to Jupiter)

I stumbled across this link to an article showcasing paintings of Slavic pagan gods and mythology by a fairly reknowned Russian artist named Boris Olshansky.

As someone who is of Slavic ancestry (Serbian on mom's side, Russian on my dad's side), I was particularly pleased about the content of these paintings. It was only within the last two years or so that I discovered Slavic paganism and have begun to learn about it as I go along. Due to its proximity, elements of Nordic and Greco-Roman religions left their mark on Slavic paganism with each of the respective religions' pantheons sharing deities of similar rank and characteristics.

Sadko in the Underwater Kingdom (mythology)

While I had some passing familiarity with Slavic mythology from my late grandmother, I was largely ignorant of my ancestors pre-Christian culture. I suppose, however, that was not deliberate. Cyril and Methodius brought Christianity to my peoples and that led to the suppression of the old pagan ways (though not entirely, as some contemporary Christian customs still retain pagan origins like Serbian badnjace (oak Yule logs) and vencici (grass wreaths woven at Pentecost)). With suppression comes ignorance, and I honestly believe my family didn't know the old ways better because that sort of information wasn't available to them. Also, the stigma surrounding pagan beliefs would have prevented them from sharing what they knew as well.

While I am a Catholic, I feel like I would be doing myself a huge disservice if I didn't take the time to become familiar with my ancestors' pagan past. I have no intention of becoming a pagan, but it is important for me to know this part of my ancestral past. After all, you cannot know yourself unless you know where you've come from.

Latter-day interpretation of Jesus and the Moneychangers

All artwork on this entry is by Boris Olshansky and is from this link.