We went to our friend Aleen's for dinner. Her apartment is about 250 feet away. The evening was shared with another couple and we had some nice zakuski (appetizers) and dinner. Dina took Stefan home to bed and Aleen and I went right outside across the street from the embassy compound to a small orthodox church. Here in Moscow there are churches with onion domes on practically every other block.
The church was packed full of people; the women with their heads covered, many of the men with beards, and old Russian babushkas clutching their candles, bowing, and crossing themselves.
Once inside, I felt something stir in me that has been there since my youth. An old connection that sometimes gets forgotten but is easily awakened by the first few notes from the choir and the scent of burning candles and incense. The sea of people blur. There is some gentle pushing and shoving as the priest recites the old traditions of our ancestors. There is christ nailed to the cross. The choir singers raise their voices and the icons shimmer in glowing candle light. The words come back to me and I am singing too.
I turn to my right and see the face of a beautiful young Russian woman. She is looking down and I follow her glance down her long slender arms down to an angelic face cradled in her hands. It is a Down's Syndrome child. She has a white scarf around her face like the Russian Alyonka chocolate bar baby only with dark almond shaped eyes and a white scarf. They keep staring at each other and I am moved. Moved by the love and the unknown struggles she must bear.
The man in front of me turns towards me and leans a burning candle in my direction. I ignite mine from his flame and turn to light the woman's next to her child. The bells start to ring and there is increased movement as people begin to move out of the church. The priest leads the recession swinging his incense and holding his cross. The choir follows singing a hymn I know as well as any nursery rhyme. The air is cold out but we huddle together and follow the priest as the church bells change from a solitary ring, to a continuous none stop clanging. He led us once around the church and then back to the front door. "Christ has risen!" he shouted. "Indeed he has risen!" we all reply. People start to kiss each other three times on each cheek.
As Aleen and I walked back towards the embassy I think back upon the generations and hundreds of years that this tradition has maintained itself. Thousands of years and 70 years of suppression could not crush faith.
Xpuctocb Bockpece! Happy Easter!
twenty-something years of "what have you been up to?" 
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