Anna Chamberlin
Nothing is more quintessentially Greek than a large, loud function with too much food. And, in my big Greek family, any celebration that doesn’t end with everyone sweating from Greek dancing or a lamb roasting on a spit is a failure.
I didn’t realize how significant these events were to me until I experienced life without the festivities — when I came to college. Throughout my childhood, it seemed like there was never a shortage of gatherings to attend, whether it be a notable holiday or an informal dinner. Coming together with family and friends was reason enough to celebrate.
If there exists a Golden Egg of all holidays, Greek Easter would be it. It’s one of the few times a year when my entire family gets together: all of the grandparents, parents, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles and cousins. In the weeks leading up to the day, my relatives called and texted, asking if I’d be coming home, and I had to politely say “no,” hiding my own disappointment. Last year I couldn’t make it because Orthodox Easter fell around the same time as finals. This year, work got the best of me, making it too difficult to escape for the weekend.
When I was younger, this holiday was characterized by visits from the Easter Bunny, countless Easter egg hunts and an overconsumption of jelly beans. But as I matured into a young adult and those years faded away, I tried leaning into the true meaning of Easter, giving it a new significance in my life. I prioritized church services and time spent with family. The new tradition became attending the midnight Anastasi service with my cousins, followed by a feast at my grandma’s house that would last until 4 a.m., featuring traditional magiritsa.
While I missed these opportunities this year, I was still determined to preserve the traditions as best as I could.
On Good Friday, I attended a service with some friends from school. With only a few familiar faces in the crowd, it was the familiarity of the hymns, the burning candles and the wobbly knees from standing for hours in the pews that reminded me of home.
On Easter Sunday itself, the Hellenic Society hosted a brunch, complete with all of the must-have dishes: lamb, roasted potatoes, Greek salad and tsoureki (sweet bread). We cracked red eggs, wishing each other “Christos Anesti,” and enjoyed the glorious day. The flavors of the feast, the red dye on my hands and the Greek music transported me back to my cousins’ backyard, where I would have been that day.
It was so special to connect with others who, like me, were also missing that taste of home and the traditional celebrations. I may not have been with my usual company, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
When my parents FaceTimed me that night, I didn’t need to hide my disappointment or jealousy of not being home — there was none! I just smiled, my heart full from getting to celebrate the way I always had, with a big fat Greek Easter.