Tree Planting at the Greek Church

One afternoon in early March we took a small tree to the Greek Church to plant in memory of a dear friend and teacher.
We had chosen Crataegus laevigata Paul’s Scarlet, a hawthorn that would not only look beautiful but be strong to withstand salt- laden winds from the sea nearby.
We hoped it would be a fitting memorial, with spring blossom, summer shade and autumn colour.

The plan was that we’d take the tree and gardening tools, members of the Greek school would provide refreshments, and the Priest would conduct a short blessing.

The tree planting with the Church community was not the serious or pious experience it would have been with the Anglican Church of my youth ( thank goodness!). The Priest, the Church Elder, our new young Greek teacher, some parents and numerous pupils of all ages, from 5 to 75, all gathered in the churchyard as planned.

We all had a go at digging the hole. The Elder had categorically insisted for reasons best known to himself, that the tree should be situated in an unpopular spot, and the ground was rock hard and unyielding. Much discussion and argument ensued and got quite heated, but a democratic decision was clearly not going to be upheld.

The children charged around dangerously with gardening tools and occasionally tried to help with the digging. None of us were able to break the soil. Our new young teacher, Yorgo, was deemed the fittest and most suitable person to complete the task. He had no say in the choice, but respectfully did his best. The Priest took numerous photos. Much noise and chaos ( a Greek word). Hardly, (and redeemingly) not a solemn occasion by any stretch of the imagination.

Some of the children thought the blood, fish and bone fertiliser was the remains of the departed! Hushed explanations ensued, and subdued smirking and stifled giggles from the adults.

The tree was finally planted amid unsettled dark mutterings about the suitability of the chosen site, and murmured threats to move it under cover of darkness. I felt that Yorgo was relieved he genuinely had a train to catch.
All of this seemed to just go on around us; no pretence, no pomposity, no formulaic rules of behaviour.

When we got back inside the church some of the parents asked the Priest if he would be saying a prayer. He replied that although the Church Elder had said no, he’d gone home now, so we’d have a short blessing anyway.

A few prayers at the end of school, a beautifully decorated loaf of sweet bread with a lit candle in the centre, incense and chanting. Then the cutting and sharing of the loaf, glasses of wine, laughter and shared memories. Warm and friendly, informal and relaxed as everything seems to be with the Greek Community.

I think our friend and teacher would have approved.