In my son's Athenian flat on the evening of 5 January things were as expected when two small children are part of a household: a goodly amount of clutter, a high level of noise. But certain different sounds were suddenly heard in the outside corridor, and my daughter-in-law leaped into action: rugs were straightened, cushions plumped, and toys magicked away.
The children and I awaited developments: very soon the doorbell rang, and a genial, white-whiskered priest in full regalia entered. And then I remembered that the next day was Epiphany, a very old feast day, celebrated even before Christmas was established as a holy day, and ranked third in importance after Easter and Pentecost.
The priest was accompanied by an acolyte bearing a bowl of blessed water; the priest himself was carrying a cross in his right hand and in his left a bunch of basil, the royal herb, which he regularly dipped into the water. We were immediately sprinkled to the accompaniment of chanting, and thus blessed, house and all. We kissed the cross, the children received a tiny paper icon, and the priest went on to the next flat.
Epiphany is a many-layered feast day. Whereas the Western Church emphasises the visit of the Magi to the Christ-Child, Eastern Orthodoxy stresses the significance of Christ's baptism in the river Jordan, a happening heavily symbolic of cleansing by water and light, and one that gave evidence of the Holy Trinity. It is no accident that 7 January is the feast day of John the Baptist, who in Orthodoxy is called the Fore-runner.
Another reason for the importance of Epiphany is the belief that the 12 days of Christmas is a period during which the world is threatened by various wicked spirits, most particularly the ones known as kallikantzaroi, hobgoblins, the spirits of the dead: at this time they emerge from Hades (via a cave not too far from where I live) and roam the Earth. Legend has it that they have red eyes, cloven hooves and monkeys' arms, and that they live on a diet of snakes, frogs, and worms.
During the year their main aim is to wreck the Tree of Life, which supports the Earth. Every Christmas finds them mad with rage because the ineffable good of Christ's birth thwarts their evil intent, and so they leap to Earth in order to vent their spleen on human households by polluting food and