Italian
The new column “Art, Culture, History, and Archaeology,” curated by Carlo Franchini, continues. It’s a journey to discover the beauty, curiosities, and charm of Italy and the world, both past and present.
Text, photos, and videos by Carlo Franchini.
“On the 17th ‘Meskerrem’ of the Ethiopian calendar, corresponding to September 27th of our Gregorian calendar, Ethiopia celebrates ‘Meskel,’ or the ‘Feast of the Cross,’ which is perhaps the most important and symbolic festival of Christian Ethiopia. The origin of this celebration comes from ancient traditions that commemorate the finding of the Cross of Christ.
It is said that the Cross of Christ was buried along with those of the two thieves. Over the centuries, it seemed that the crosses had been lost forever. In 326 A.D., the mother of Constantine the Great, Flavia Julia Helena, decided to make a pilgrimage to Jerusalem to build, at her son’s request, a church on the site of Jesus’ crucifixion. But she wanted to be sure not to make a mistake. So she began to search until she had a revelation in a dream: she would have to light a great bonfire, and the smoke would lead her to the site of the crucifixion where the cross of Christ was buried. She ordered the people of Jerusalem to build a large wood pyre. Once it was lit, Helena had incense sprinkled on the fire. At that point, a great column of smoke rose toward the sky and then fell back to the exact spot where Helena discovered, buried, the Cross of Jesus. On that site, she had the Constantinian Basilica of the Holy Sepulchre built.”
The Ethiopian emperors, who had become deeply Christian, aspired to have a part of the cross. A piece of it was brought to Ethiopia from Jerusalem and is kept in the Gesen Maryam Monastery, located on Amba Gesen, northwest of the town of Dessie (north of Addis Ababa), which is still a pilgrimage site today.
But Meskel also has another important meaning: it marks the moment of rebirth. The festival coincides with the end of the great rainy season, keremt, and the beginning of the new harvest, as if it were a new year. The hills are adorned with yellow daisies that bloom during this time and last only a few days, known as ghelghel lemasqal, which, contrasted with the green fields of corn, create a wonderful spectacle; the weaver birds, called masqal, change their plumage from yellow to red during this period.
The legend surrounding the wood used for the cross of Christ is also fascinating. There are several variations of this story, but the most credible account from Ethiopian literature narrates that while Alexander the Great was flying to Paradise on the back of a creature that was half horse and half eagle, a log from the Tree of Life, identified as a fig tree, was torn from his mount and fell onto Jerusalem. There were several attempts to use this wood for Solomon’s temple, but they were unsuccessful. The piece of wood was thus forgotten but revealed supernatural powers by healing the leg of the Queen of Sheba during her visit to Solomon. It was later immersed in the waters of the Jordan River, where it continued to perform miraculous deeds, and for this reason, it was adorned with silver coins by Solomon and the Queen of Sheba, a tradition perpetuated by the subsequent 28 rulers. During the Passion of Christ, the beam was used for His cross, and the coins were used to pay the traitor Judas.
The cities and villages across the country, from north to south, have been in celebration since the eve of the festival. Everyone observes a strict fast. Young people roam the streets, singing and playing drums slung over their shoulders, carrying torches made from dry euphorbia branches. Occasionally, they set the torch down on the ground so that passersby can jump three times over the fire in honor of the Holy Trinity, but also in hopes of good fortune.
My mind drifts back to when we were children, eagerly waiting by our gates for the boys passing by with torches, so that we could also jump three times, dreaming of our wishes coming true. Honestly, even today, when I have the fortune to be there for the occasion, I always take those three jumps… you never know!
The villages are illuminated by the light of the torches and the long yellow candles that many faithful hold lit in their hands. This festival draws many believers who trek kilometers and kilometers from the most remote villages to reach the larger ones where there is a church to celebrate the event. Just before dawn, when the stars are still shining, at these latitudes with dazzling light, creating a unique spectacle of the night sky, it feels as if you could touch the stars. Men and women begin to move towards the ceremony site. Wrapped in traditional festive garments—white and pure for the men, white interspersed with colorful embroidered crosses for the women—they look like ghosts and evoke a vision of another time.
As they arrive, the priests, dressed in traditional white vestments with red sashes and prominent turbans, join in, dancing to the sound of trumpets and drums. In one hand, they hold a traditional stick to accompany the music (but also to rest during the long ceremony), and in the other, they carry the tzenatzel, the sistra, an ancient musical instrument also used by the ancient Egyptians.
Everyone takes their places around the church, and inside, the religious ceremony begins. Priests and deacons who are not officiating hold the large traditional colored umbrellas.
The celebration lasts a few hours, after which everyone moves to where a large damerà has been set up—a pyre made of dry euphorbia trunks shaped like an inverted cone. Priests and young deacons dance around it to the rhythm of the large drums some carry slung over their shoulders, accompanied by religious chants in the background. Then comes the great moment. The damerà is lit, and all the spectators rhythmically clap their hands, becoming animated. The fire of the pyre, in memory of the one lit by Queen Helena, rises into the air, and everyone waits to see which way the flames will fall to understand if the omens are favorable. If they are, there will be a true explosion of joy.
In any case, the festivities continue with large banquets for everyone and only conclude after dark. It is then that lines of people can be seen once again, candles in hand, taking the long journey back to their villages, illuminating the night with many bright points receding into the distance.
The brief representation of the video and photographs concerns the “Meskel” ceremony captured in two locations far apart: in the north, the holy city of Lalibela, a UNESCO World Heritage site known for its extraordinary monolithic churches, and in the south, the village of Cencia.
Excerpt from: “The Rock Churches of Ethiopia” The story of a journey through ancient cultures, religiosity, traditions, and art, by Carlo Franchini (provisional title of the new publishing project)
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