Saint Michael Verso Oriente blog

St. Michael cathedrals of gold, ie Mykhaylivs’kyi. Perhaps only the cold store knows so much beauty. A gem must contain its iciness. Something unapproachable. Something that distanzi. And this is indeed The Divine Liturgyas the Orthodox call the Eucharist. The other world, the sacredness of the eternal that breaks into reality for a few hours time. Flooding her with gold, because it could not be otherwise. The sacred must have the taste of the precious, something priceless. Gold spread like honey on the walls. The gold is illuminated by thousands of candles hot.

Even Archimandrite no longer part of this world. It is the necessary intermediary. Those voices of deacons from the baritone dalmatics sparkling rhythms that move in predetermined because the rule gives perfection. As an eroticism captured by thousands of repetitions. Nobody knows where the wave incense begins and ends the storm of the songs. Everyone standing for hours, silent.
oroocchioro
We humans have no part. We are spectators on this side of the iconostasis. We are allowed to observe, not participate. Participation is a gift given at the end as rivulets of fine loose diamonds. The mysterion is dipped, with a silver spoon in a large bowl filled with dense, dark wine red as blood. In fact it is blood.
One could also pass out if we reflect. In fact I get out of a daze. Stunned by her beauty. What a magnificent city. My stomach is still shaking beneath those ancient songs.
Ukraine
O. L’ORO COLA LUNGO LE PARETI COME IL MIELE. OOO COME STUPORE. – Verso oriente.
by Joerg Schwipper
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