You Simply Need Faith

She stands close to the large metal candlestick in the front part of the church. Observed from behind, she appears as an elderly woman. Her skirt is made of heavy, dark woolen fabric and reaches to her toes. A long jacket, several sizes too big extends below her knees. Her hair hides under a colorful scarf. She kneels on the marble floor, beside the worn red carpet.

The movement reveals solid black shoes. Her arms rise slowly. She recites a prayer out loud and gets up. She turns around. The girl is no older than 13 and had plum cheeks and lively green eyes.

It is Sunday morning, 9 am. The main street of Blagoevgrad is deserted. The cold and foggy weather definitely does nothing to cheer up the atmosphere. A few shopkeepers sweep with brooms the sidewalk in front of their places. It is quiet, not even a bird can be heard. Probably birds still sleep, just like their human counterparts.

I cross the street and enter Varosha, the old part of town. The church of the Annunciation of the Virgin appears hospitable as always despite the gloomy weather. Its arched façade is decorated with a chessboard-type black and white pattern. A paving stone covered path leads to the heavy door. Several graves are located in the yard, all of them marked by grey headstones with the names of priests engraved upon them.

Opening the massive door reveals a world, different from the one outside. Nearly fifty people stand facing the altar. The voice of the priest comes from behind a red curtain with an embroidered golden cross. This peaceful world follows its own centuries-old dynamics while people still sleep in their beds.

Both elderly and young people are present on that Sunday mass. Teenagers, apparently here by themselves, stand clutching candles in front of the altar.

"My observation is that many young people come regularly to the church. Specially when there is some big festivity, the space in the church is not enough for all the believers who wish to attend the sermon," said Veneta Dimitrova. She works in the church since one year, selling candles and helping people arrange prayers and memorial services. Her colleague, Nadka Ilieva is a veteran, who dedicated 20 years to church work. The two sit next to a large stove near the entrance and chat about different everyday matters. They sell candles to the newcomers and occasionally rise to remove burned wax pieces from the candlesticks.

A young man in leader jacket and jeans holds a tiny candle in front of the icon of Jesus. He vigorously presses his fist to his heart and sings together with the choir. His eyes are closed but his expression is intense and anxious, as if he experiences great pain or pleasure. The voice of the man rises above the priest's. It had a distinct feminine pitch that sets it apart. It sounds beautiful in its sincerity.

Most believers stand close to the painted walls or to the candlesticks in the front part of the church. The central walk is abandoned, so the eye focuses directly beyond the carpet and the marble figures around it to the weighty priest standing behind the altar. He has a graying beard and slightly curved nose. His voice is deep but slightly croaky.

On his left side is an icon of Christ, while on the right shines the pale and sad image of Mary. "Next to her icon, always stands the one, showing the patron saint of the church," Nadka explains. A framed picture depicts the three-year-old Mary surrounded by adults and church priests. The face of the tiny figure is mature and serious, just like the face of baby Jesus appears in all icons. "This is her annunciation, her parents leave her alone in a church to serve God," Nadka says, pointing at the image.

The priest's ceremonial garments shine to the light of the candles. The gold-plated woodcarving, framing the altar, glitters behind him. Nadka and Veneta explain together that the church was built and decorated in 1844 by the same people, who worked on the Rila monastery. The architecture is similar, as Nadka explains, both this church and the one in the monastery have three domes arranged in a straight line and walls covered with paintings.

Many of the wall paintings, however, have become indistinguishable, as if covered by a layer of soot. "All paintings were restored but many people come to light candles. The smoke from the flames causes big damage to the drawings," says Nadka.

The burning candles and the incense create a stifling atmosphere inside the cold church. The priest starts singing together with the choir, swinging the incense burner and letting its aromatic contents fill the air with the sweet but heavy scent.

Everyone in the church seems to know the routine perfectly. As the priest swings around the incense burner, most people bow low, even the older ones. Women wear headscarves or hats. They enter the church, making the sign of the cross and approach the icons, as the saints look back at them peacefully. They kiss the oil-painted images, leave stotinki and flowers and step back, listening to the sermon.

Nadka explains that after the fall of communism, increasing numbers of people turned back to religion. "They still need some help, they need to be educated about the religion. People often ask me about fasting, appropriate behavior in the church. More and more women return to the old tradition of wearing headscarves. Our priests gather people and talk about the different saints and how they all are related to Jesus," she explains.

"What makes people go back to the church is that they lost faith in everything else. Life is difficult, the government does nothing about it. There is nothing else left to believe in," says an elderly woman, present at the mass.

Meanwhile, the singing stops and the priest talks about the Last Judgment and how people have lost contact with the spiritual. "How many times have you done something to satisfy your own lusts, how many times have you forgotten your fellows," he asks. Most eyes are turned toward the floor. "Busy in our everyday life, we forget God. The ones, looking holy on the outside might be full of greed and hypocrisy on the inside," he continues. The believers stare at him in a trance-like state. But this state does not last too long.

When he stops speaking, as if by an invisible sign, almost everyone moves forward and kneels in front of the altar, while the priest brings a beautifully decorated Bible. The people stand on the floor with their arms stretched, gazing once again at the figures beneath their feet. The priest reads a passage from the book. During the reading, all remain motionless. When he finishes, the believers stand up in unison, lining behind each other to kiss the Bible and the hand that holds it.

In the next moment, the choir is singing again. The tone is not calm and peaceful any longer, but powerful like a sound flood. All people fall to the floor once again. The old in their worn clothes. The middle aged men and women, the families with small children. The teenagers wearing jeans.

The psalm stops for a moment. The choir leader sings a soft tone to guide the others, who immediately join in with the words of the Lord's Prayer. This time all believers pray aloud.

Our Father, who art in heaven, Hallowed be thy Name. All hands are in the air. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, On earth as it is in heaven. All lips move in unison, as the singing in the background rises in volume. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, As we forgive those who trespass against us. The priest stands in front of the altar, the communion cup in his hands, as 50 people recite the words together. And lead us not into temptation, But deliver us from evil. The voices mix in harmony, softer and stronger, bass and childish. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever and ever. Amen. Everyone rises, returning to reality from this spiritual quest for mercy.

The experience approximates my visions of what going back in time has to be. Masses probably were carried out in the same way many years ago. I forget the outside world, my mind goes blank and as soon as the mass is over I feel free of worries for the first time in months. The atmosphere affects me and the words of the priest make me think about values and life. The combined effects of the soothing singing of the choir and the smell of incense intensify the impact of the ceremony.

These rituals, established so long ago, withstood the test of time to become somehow influential once again these days. The Bulgarian church survived through an Ottoman rule and a communist regime finally undergoing a revival in the 90s. More and more people now go back to religion in search of hope and aid. Younger Bulgarians, Nadka says try to restore old traditions. Just like the girl with the headscarf and the oversized clothes.

"Greatest increase in belief in God has occurred in ex-Socialist countries, especially Orthodox societies undergoing a religious revival [like Bulgaria. These countries] show a moderate to large net gain in believers- 9.8 percent increase in Bulgaria," writes Tomas Smith in his Spiritual Transformation Around the World. More than half of Bulgarians believe in some fashion in God. The traditions and Orthodox practices passed from one generation to the next, kept the Christian spirit alive, according to some documents published in the States.

Back in 864, accepting Orthodoxy was a political decision. King Boris, the ruler then, adopted a new religion, searching for stability in the country and peaceful relations with powerful neighbors, like the Byzantine Empire. From that point in history on, Bulgarian culture, identity, and educational movements were tied to Orthodoxy as mentioned by Totjo Koev in a work about the history of Bulgarian orthodoxy.

For nearly five centuries Ottoman rulers challenged these beliefs. As Nadka says, when the church was built, it lacked a bell tower. No church at that time could be taller than any mosque in the city. The tower, which now hosts the church bell, was built much later.

Bulgarian monasteries and churches survived the harsh period and even started serving a new role- preserving the national identity. These isolated forts turned into elementary schools as well as into centers of patriotic activity.

The second challenge to Christianity came with the dawn of the communist era. Activists during the time tried to eradicate "the opium of the people," as Marx put it.

"Years ago, until 1989, it was forbidden for people to attend masses," said Nadka. "Religious people came to the church secretly, mainly during the night. Whenever we had an occasion, like Easter, militiamen hid in the nearby buildings. They waited for people to come out of the church to arrest them. Many of these believers lost their jobs."

Veneta reminds her of another problem believers faced during socialist times. Unsurprisingly baptisms were performed in secrecy. Many records and certificates were lost. "Now, for example, when people want to do a wedding, they need a Christening certificate and often times they do not have it. According to church canon, each person can be baptized only once. A second christening is a big sin," Veneta says, while putting out the candles that have diminished to the size of thimbles with tiny flames on top. She systematically presses them with her thumb to extinguish the flame and skillfully takes out the wax remains from the candlestick, throwing them into a water basin.

The religious revival that began with the end of communism is now gaining speed. As an online country profile puts it "Bulgaria is on the verge of a spiritual awakening. In the decade following Communist rule, 35 churches multiplied to over 500." More young people today decide to study theology and replace the majority of priest who are already in retirement age.

On weekdays, the church in Varosha is calm and quiet. But it is not empty. I come back on a Monday morning, a week after I attended the mass. Veneta is reading a newspaper and discussing the news with Nadka, while two girls stand in front of the icon of Jesus. Candles flicker in the semi-darkness. A middle-aged woman on her knees next to the altar is praying. Soon she finishes, stands up slowly, bows low in front of the icon, and kisses it.

"Many people come often to the church, mainly to light a candle and pray for health, luck, maybe a new job. There are smaller churches in several neighborhoods in the city, but people prefer to come here, since our church is the biggest and oldest in Blagoevgrad," says Nadka.

As she speaks, the door opens allowing a beam of light to take a quick glance inside the church. It is followed by a red-haired woman, who enters cautiously and greets the elderly women with a low voice. She wants to know how to organize a prayer. "You should bring a home-made loaf of bread, honey is not needed. Also, bring some small gifts for Mary and for the priest," Veneta explains competently.

I leave the women alone and move forward. I light a candle and simply stand, allowing myself to experience the spirit of the place. This time the atmosphere is different- much more personal and informal. I keep on wondering what attracted so many people to this place last Sunday. The same ambience could still be felt, so real, almost tangible. And as I stand, I remember how its power somehow affected even me, a technology addict lost in thousands of duties and daily routines.