L is for Light

I just never know what’s going to make a difference to people.

Julia and Marcus in Piraeus

One recent Saturday, I visited a refugee friend from Mauritania who’s living in Piraeus, the port of Athens, easily reachable by train. We spent several hours walking, talking and eating. During the afternoon we passed a beautiful Greek church which was open.  Having been raised Catholic I have no compunction about wandering in and out of churches, even those of other denominations, so, checking that Marcus was in agreement, I led him in. He’s from a Muslim background, so it was unfamiliar territory for him.

 

The church was, like all Greek churches I’ve been in, resplendent with icons of saints, some painted, some mosaic, some beaten silver. The dedication was Saint Nicholas, who's a very benign saint. Following my usual practice, I dropped coins in the box and lit three candles, inviting Marcus to help me. My standard candles are: one for the refugees, one for the volunteers and one for all our families.

Lighting church candles might seem an odd thing for an atheist like me to do, but it’s a carry-over from childhood and as a good Circle Dancer I appreciate the symbolism of the candle and the ability of that little flame to cheer and exalt our spirits.

We walked on. I went home.

Marcus and I spoke on the phone a couple of times that week but it wasn’t until the following Sunday, eight days later, that he said diffidently: “You remember what we did in the church – well, I’d like to do that thing again.”  “Lighting candles?” I asked. “Yes,” he said, “I didn’t tell you but I was feeling very bad that day because where I live they were saying I had to move out. The candles made me feel better. It was very good. I’d like to do that again.

“I walk past that church every day,” he continued “And I see many people going in and out.”

 

 

But he won’t go in by himself because he’s afraid that as a lone black man, walking into an unfamiliar environment, he would encounter rejection. His fear is not groundless. He’s also, as I would be, a bit shy of entering into a holy place of a tradition other than his own.  So I’m planning to go back to Piraeus later this week and take Marcus to visit St Nicholas again. Meanwhile, I told him I’d find a church in Athens where I can light some candles for him. I can message him a photo when I do. 

 

If you light candles, maybe you can include Marcus and his fellow refugees in your intentions.  Thank you.

 

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