On an average day in Draganesti, Romania I will respond to an average of 2 emails (that are not my own), make a few phone calls (that are not my own), get assigned 3 tasks in the office that I cannot finish, get distracted and start jamming out on the worship band’s equipment in the chapel, and if I am lucky I will get to go on an evangelism date with Raul’s (The local Pastor’s) wife Ana.
On this particular day Ana and I didn’t have an assigned house to go to and as we wandered the streets looking for people to befriend we approached an Orthodox Church in one of the neighborhoods. Curious, I peered in the gates and looked around. Surrounded by an ornately crafted cement enclosure was an expanse of grass that could be used as a soccer field, but did not appear to be used very much at all. To the left of the grass field there was a cement walkway that lead to an old cement building that was hardly big enough to be a church, but it was.
I asked Ana if we could go inside. She said that we should wait and walk around a bit more. We crossed the street and approached a babushka (Romanian for grandmother) who was sitting on a chair outside of her house. (On a side note it is common practice here for the elderly to sit out in front of their homes and talk to people as they pass by, probably a result of not having a television set.) We talked to her about her recent eye surgery and the pain she was having. She also told us about her daughter who lives in Spain and her son who still lives in town. After praying for her Ana asked her about the church and she told us that she goes there on occasion and that there was a service happening at 4pm. Ana looked at her watch and it was about 10 ‘til 4. She asked if I would like to go and I excitedly said yes.
Entering into the church the first thing I noticed was a single babushka on her knees praying. She was very serious and emotional and appeared to be pouring out her heart to God. I wandered around, slowly exploring the room and taking it all in. Then, glancing up, I noticed the ceilings. They were adorned with faded and ornate paintings of Jesus, cherubim, and mother Mary. They appeared to be done by hand and I was amazed. They were beautiful and I imagined how difficult it must have been to paint not only so well, but on such a difficult surface.
Soon after entering a man I assumed to be a priest exited the doors in the far side of the chapel into the main hall. I greeted him in broken Romanian and attempted to ask him if he was the priest but he didn’t understand me. Right after that Ana came up to me and told me that he was the singer for the service and also that we needed to be reverent because the service was about to begin. A few minutes later, after a few other babushkas had arrived, the real priest came out of the front doors of the chapel and the service began. He was wearing a long black robe and he wore beads and a cross around his neck. He had a thunderous voice and began singing hymns in Romanian that Ana translated for me. They were mostly about Jesus. Some gave praise to Mother Mary and talked about angels.
The service was beautiful, full with singing and praying. At one point the priest went back into the room he had come out of and returned with an incense burner which he paraded around the room, waving the smoke over us and the room. We sat and listened to the whole thing, myself praying during the service, and at the end of the service the babushkas all headed for the front of the room. I’m not sure what for; probably for prayer, but we headed for the back.
Suddenly and right before we exited I heard the thundering voice of the priest calling after us. Startled, we stopped in our tracks and turned around. Having heard a few stories from fellow squad mates over the month about the priests telling them off and being rude to them I was a bit scared we were being accosted. However, as Ana and the priest began exchanging a few words a smile appeared on her face, and again we turned around to leave. As soon as we got out of the church Ana excitedly explained to me that the priest had thanked us for coming to the service and apologized for his church not being more beautiful.
She explained to me the significance of this as it was both irreverent of him to call after us and encouraging as they have struggled with their relationships with the priests in town. Hope Church has a bad reputation with the Orthodox hierarchy in the area and for him to be kind to her and to welcome her (knowing she was the pastor’s wife) was a good sign. I don’t know exactly what happened or what moved the Priest enough to call out to us that day but I do know that Jesus loves everyone, including that priest and all the babushkas that were in the church that day. Like a man in love he is relentlessly pursuing each of our hearts.
Keep Draganesti, Romania and Hope Church in your prayers as well as us Racers as we head into our final week of debrief and head home on the 6th of December!
God Bless!
