Since childhood, my family has celebrated the new year with the observance of Vasilopita. Aside from making phenomenal toast, this rich sweet bread symbolizes, to me, all that is, was and will always make me proud of my religious heritage. Like so much in this crazy Bush world, it now carries a reminder of how far we have fallen:
(More after the flip...)
Literally translated into "bread of Basil," the tradition has a
history going back to the fourth century:
This age old tradition commenced in the fourth century, when Saint Basil the Great, who was a bishop, wanted to distribute money to the poor in his Diocese. He commissioned some women to bake sweetened bread, in which he arranged to place gold coins. Thus the families in cutting the bread to nourish themselves, were pleasantly surprised to find the coins.
This original event which happened in Cappadocia of Caesarea in the last half of the fourth century, is very much alive in our Orthodox homes each year on January 1st.
According to tradition, special sweet bread (in some areas of Greece, it takes the form of a cake) is prepared both in the Orthodox homes and in the Church community which is called Vasilopita. Sweets are added to the bread which symbolize the sweetness and joy of life everlasting.
It also symbolizes the hope that the New Year will be filled with the sweetness of life, liberty, health, and happiness for all who participate in the Vasilopita Observance. When the Vasilopita is prepared, a coin is usally added to the ingredients. When the bread is cut and the observance begins, the individual who receives that portion of the Pita which contains the coin is considered blessed.
This tradition adds joy to the celebration at the beginning of the New Year, which everyone hopes will bring joy to all. Many Orthodox Christians enjoy the Vasilopita at home with their loved ones during the New Year celebration. The head of the family cuts the pieces of pita for all members of the family.
Since Saint Basil loved the poor people, a special piece is cut for the unfortunate of the world, which symbolizes our concern for the poverty-striken people of all nations.
Today we observed our tradition, not only to celebrate the coming new year, but in memory of my aunt who died this summer and my grandfather, Vasil, who celebrated his nameday each January 1. A kind, unassuming man, he was aptly named:
Saint Basil was the first person in human history to establish an orphanage for little children. He also founded the first Christian hospital in the world. His fame as a Holy Man spread like wildfire throughout the Byzantine world. He was considered one of the most wise and compassionate clergymen in the entire history of the Church. His Feast Day is observed on January 1st, the beginning of the New Year and the Epiphany season.
Our aunt always saw to it that all of the extended family had their own vasilopita. While too poor to buy one for everyone at $7.00 per loaf, I did make sure her brother, my father, would have his traditional bread.
This is what religion has meant to me, from a few years after being dunked in the baptismal font to watching my daughters get christened in the exact same spot. The teachings of St. Basil as regards the poor are the heart and soul of man's possible transcendence from lowly animal to a being of spirit and substance, reflecting God's will.
In so many ways, by so many loved ones, guides and mentors, humility, acceptance, sharing, thoughtfulness, basic benevolence and agape for others were expected and enacted in daily life and reinforced by these rituals.
Because of these beliefs, my brother and I inherited a godfather: the man who secretly (or so he thought) left bags of food on my grandparents' back porch during the Depression when they were too poor to feed themselves. It was never mentioned to him, but he was welcomed-in as a trusted friend whose life entwined with ours from then forward.
When it was his turn to need help, my grandparents took in his future bride after she arrived from Ireland. Countless examples of living, breathing acts of true spiritual goodness are sprinkled throughout our family mythology - and all began from religious beliefs and teachings.
And I was proud of this heritage, these poor, struggling people who came to America and built their little church by their own hands, and most of all, proud of my Christian heritage.
What angers and sickens me so much about the right-wing zealots and bloviating tv hairdos is how they've injured this beautiful, spiritual world in which we all once shared equal footing. They had no right. They had no superiority, no claim to their own special God or to rewrite the rules of Christian behavior in order to better suit their agenda.
But, they did. And in doing, they've nearly succeeded in stealing a vital heritage, a sacred, profane piece of the lives of other religious people, rich with history in both the personal and universal sense among believers.
The tradition of Saint Basil, what the Saints held dear, is lost on people like this. That I can accept.
What is unacceptable, however, is the effect their decidedly unChristian acts have had on others, Christians and non-Christians alike.
Like a beautiful painting shred into indistinguishable slivers of canvas, the "religion" they wear on their sleeves is a thing of unholy, disgusting ugliness. I worry it may never be the same for many of us by the time they're finished, another casualty of their bullying trample over everything potentially elevating and good.
This year, for the first year ever, it was my piece of bread that held the coin and with it, the promise of good fortune in the coming year.
As I turned it around in my hand, remembering the promise of Saint Basil and the words of my grandparents, I vowed to spend the coming year the most honorable, moral way possible: I will fight their versions of reality and Christianity. No longer will their actions to speak for me as an American, a woman and a person of faith. I'll honor what St. Basil stood for, recognizing that those who willingly harm the least among us are the worst among us, no matter what label they try to hide behind.