Holy Epiphany

Orthodox Christian ikon of the Holy Theophany

Friday, the 6th of January. This is the Christian feast day called ‘Twelfth Night’ in the West, and is the last of the twelve days of Christmas. For the Orthodox East it has to same position in the calendar, but it's a far more important feast, usually called Holy Theophany, though sometimes referred to, as in the West, as Holy Epiphany. This is the day when the identity of Jesus of Nazareth was revealed to the last Hebrew prophet, John, the honorable forerunner and baptist, who says, ‘I would not have known him, except that the One who sent me to baptize with water told me, “The man on whom you see the Spirit come down and remain is he who will baptize with the Holy Spirit.” I have seen and I testify that this is the Son of God’ (John 1:33-34).

Aghia Epiphania, Jakarta

Yudhie's local parish happens to be named after this event, so he asked me if I would go with him to Jakarta to attend the services on this day, which is the nameday of his congregation. We hoped that since Dwi had some business to take care of in Jakarta today, he could come with us to the service, and then attend to business, but that was not to be. He had an appointment in another part of this sprawling metropolis, and there wouldn't be enough time to get from the church to his appointment. ‘Will of God,’ I muttered to myself, ‘it is not time yet.’ Dwi had expressed an interest, as have many of Yudhie's associates, in Orthodoxy, but it is very difficult for most people to find enough time to attend a service. The difficulty of transportation is a large part of it.

But we were at least to spend some time together on the bus from Tangerang to Jakarta. The ride cost 5,500 rupiah, about sixty cents U.S., and the bus was crowded but very clean. It was full when we got on, so we just stood in the aisle until seats became available near the end of the ride. What surprised me on this trip, the first time I had noticed it, was that despite the tropical climate, people on their way to work in Jakarta were dressed the same way (except the women, more beautifully and creatively) as they dress in temperate America. Almost everyone wore jackets or coats, most of the women wore head scarves, and in general everyone was fully clothed as if the temperature were about 55° or 60° F (about 14° to 16° C), yet the temperature was in the high eighties (around 28° C).

Inside an angkot

What also surprised me was that despite the taboo on men and women touching each other in public if they are not very close relatives, there didn't seem to be any special arrangements, at least not on this bus. Yes, women sat with women, and men with men, but there was a mixture in some seats, and not husbands and wives. In general I have been impressed by the order and propriety, without coercion or fuss, that I have experienced in this country since I arrived. Even when in very close quarters, as when riding in a crowded angkot, I never experienced anything like segregation.

We separated to go our ways upon arrival, and Dwi and Yudhie agreed to stay in touch by cell phone. Unfortunately, as it turned out, our rendezvous later in the day was almost sabotaged by the fact that our cell phone ran out of juice. We'd forgotten to put it in its charger, I guess.

Aghia Epiphania, Jakarta

Yudhie and I arrived at church. We saw that the custom there was for people to bring bottled water and pour it into the large holy water cistern at the front of the temple, so it could be blessed and distributed. We hadn't thought of it, and so I waited in the church—the service had not started yet—while Yudhie went out to buy a bottle of water. When he got back, it was too late to add water from his bottle, as the cistern was already full. As usual, Orthodox ingenuity took over, so that somehow everyone’s water got blessed, even ours.

This was the second time I had been to an Orthodox service in Indonesia, and again I was very impressed. Fr Gabriel is a very dynamic priest and, combining the native energy with the Greek, he chants the liturgy and performs the ceremonial with great gusto and irrepressible momentum. In other words, very fast. If you don't watch your step and get in his path, he just might knock you down. Just kidding. But the Greek Orthodox tempo in worship is very energetic and quick, usually, when compared to the Russian Orthodox, which seems to go in slow motion, super slow motion.

Holy Epiphany feast day

Both styles of worship have their good points and their bad. I sometimes like the slow, meditative pace of the Russian style service. It seems more prayerful. But sometimes it puts me to sleep, literally. There's something very fresh and childlike in the Greek style, and there is a more masculine dynamic and sound than in the Russian style, which is often mellow and feminine, too much for me. Here in Indonesia, just as in America, both styles can be found, or a mixture of both styles, though not of melody, in some places.

The service was beautiful, and afterwards we had refreshments and fellowship in the parish hall. An Indonesian woman of my generation came and sat with me at coffee, and began to ask me about myself in very good English. As it turns out, she also had lived in Portland, and so we made a very good connexion. Our spirituality also matched exactly, an experience that should amaze me, but I have had it so often, I almost come to expect it. Christians of certain spiritual experience seem to be led to each other, though not often enough to work against us, but just enough to encourage us, not to make us too comfortable with ‘our own kind’ but just encouraged to know that we are not alone. That's how it was for me, and my friend.

Great blessing of the waters

One of the members of the congregation, a Greek man, saw Yudhie and me and asked us how we got to church. We told him, by public transportation. He offered to give us a ride, at least to the bus, but when the time came, he must have forgotten about us, so we just started walking out the gate of the church campus. Walking through the neighborhood, suddenly it began to rain. Not soft little droplets, but a real downpour. By the time we found a tree to stand under, we were positively soaked. I must've looked like a drowned gray rat in a white shirt hiding under a banana tree when a brand new SUV stopped right in front of us.

The driver rolled down the window and offered us a ride. He moved some stuff out of the back seat, and we got in. It never occurred to me that this man was anything but a complete stranger. Yudhie talked to him in bahasa, but too fast for me to really understand. Soon we were at the major road where we could catch the bus. He let us out, and gave us a very large umbrella to use. Then he drove off. I turned to Yudhie and asked, ‘Did he just give us the umbrella?’ It was a member of his congregation, Yudhie explained. He would return the umbrella next time he came to services. Then it suddenly all made sense—why shouldn't we get soaked to the skin on Epiphany? It's the feast day when all the waters of the earth became holy waters—even, no, especially, the rain! 

We hopped a passing angkot and, soaked as we were, crowded inside, being careful not to get the other passengers wet, some of whom were gorgeously attired young Muslim women. When we got to the bus station, we got out and tried to locate Dwi. He had called and talked to Yudhie, but the transmission kept getting cut off, so we couldn't exactly find out where he was. The bus station was a very disorganized place, and I was quite confused as to what was going on. Somehow, since we couldn't get to where he was, Dwi was going to meet us where we were. We waited and waited, but he didn't arrive.

A bus going to our destination was about to leave. We still hoped Dwi would be there at any moment, and we asked the driver—we had already boarded the bus—if he was able to wait just a few minutes more. He couldn't wait, but told us to just board the bus behind his, which wasn't leaving for another quarter of an hour. So that's what we did. Finally Dwi arrived but didn't see us and was about to leave. We lunged to the door of the bus and called out to him. He saw us, and got on. What a relief! It's kind of scary to miss your connexion or your companion when making a visit to such a large, crowded city like Jakarta. All three of us were able to sit in one seat, so we just relaxed, now that the worst was over.

It was after we got home, and Dwi had a chance to talk to Yudhie privately—they are very close friends—that I finally found out his decision about whether to return to Ambon. That's when he told me about his talk with the Lord, and his decision to go back for the second semester. That meant we would be leaving together. The rest of the evening, we just relaxed at home in Tangerang with our friends. Some of us would not be seeing each other again for a long time.

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