Milica

The shiny new Mercedes sped carelessly through the streets of Belgrade while its driver, Nikola Rogić, noticed an unusually large number of pedestrians for the lateness of the hour—even on this auspicious day. They should already be in church, he thought, as he barreled through another intersection and narrowly missed one of three pedestrians. No doubt, ninety kilometers per hour simply was too fast for these downtown streets. “Why do we have to go to Saint Marko’s?” complained Nikola’s blond companion, who had failed to witness the near miss because she was freshening up her lipstick. “We could have attended a closer church. It would’ve been a lot less crowded.” “Come on, Jelena, you know my uncle will be there,” Nikola scolded with a smile. “Can’t you put up with one short evening of protocol? It’s only once a year.” Out of the corner of his eye, Nikola unexpectedly saw a family of four crossing the street in the next intersection. He should have been watching the road but in fact, hadn’t been able to take his eyes off the beauty sitting next to him. The squealing brakes of the black sedan pierced the night’s calm as it slid in the direction of the unsuspecting family. They spotted the oncoming car at the same time and almost comically, all took flight in different directions. The mother nearly dropped her baby as she darted out of the way. “Serves them right for walking directly into the path of a moving vehicle,” he murmured. “Now, where were we in our conversation, my love?” “I was saying that we didn’t have to go so far tonight. Your crazy uncle could have seen you tomorrow or the next day. Admit it. Wouldn’t you rather be snuggling up with me in a warm, comfy bed instead of making this pointless trip? Wouldn’t you, Nikola?” “It isn’t just an obligation, Jelena. My Uncle Zoran always looks for me at Pascha. He expects me to be at Saint Marko’s. By the way, why are you prettying up your lips so much? You know that priests hate lipstick on the icons.” “Sweetie, these ruby reds are for you alone. You, of all people, should know that I never actually kiss icons.” “That’s right, and you’d better not either, or God might strike you down for being a colossal hypocrite.” Again, he smiled. “That’s not nice. I love God. Only from a distance, that’s all.” “Sure, you do—just like me.” Nikola considered his gorgeous bride-to-be. She looked stunning this evening. Her long blond hair sparkled in the night lights, and her captivating blue-green eyes mesmerized him. Even though the silky red dress she wore was formfitting and not at all appropriate for church, he knew that she had handpicked it for him. “Maybe I take this all too seriously, honey, but my uncle believes that the famous Nikola Rogić should at least be perceived as religious. The rest of my family couldn’t care less, but he believes it’s good for my image to be seen in church. And Pascha’s the best time. Everybody will be there.” “If you want to be a phony, go right ahead. I just wish you wouldn’t drag me into this charade.” “Look out!” Jelena cried as Nikola almost rammed into the car stopped in front of them. “Do you want to be dead or alive by the end of the night?” “Oh, I just hate being late,” he snapped, jerking his car back into the lane. The streets, in fact, were crowded that night. It was Pascha, after all, and almost everyone in the city was either headed to a church or already there. Finally, the bell tower of the great Saint Marko’s Church appeared. Because Nikola parked his car in a reserved lot close to the church, they were able to walk to the church without any difficulty. A throng of worshippers gathered outside the church’s main entrance clearly because there was no room inside. As was always the case when Nikola appeared, the crowd turned its attention on him and immediately created a pathway as he approached the mammoth front doors of the church. Many greeted him as he passed by. Fantastic, Jelena thought, soaking up the admiration and envy. Soon I’ll be Mrs. Most Famous News Anchor in Serbia, and I will be just as well-known as he is. The huge mass of bodies, both inside and outside the church, veiled the fact that all the lights within had been extinguished. No members of the clergy were to be seen, as they were already in place behind the altar at the east end of the building. So quiet was the crowd that a casual observer might think that they were all attending a funeral. Then slowly rising out of the anticipation of the congregation, an ancient and otherworldly chant from behind the altar slowly broke the silence. “Come receive the Light, from the Light that is never overtaken by night!” Far away from where Nikola stood near the west entrance, a flicker of flame began to drift out from the altar into the main part of the church. Parishioners and visitors were holding unlit candles, and as the glowing radiance made its way through the crowd, candles were lit from one to another. The advancing firelight was now moving quickly toward Nikola. By the time it reached him, the entire church was ablaze with light. Without prodding, the people created a center aisle from the altar to the west doors. A procession of bishops and archpriests led the way; all were clothed in glistening white robes. Countless streams of other priests and monastics trailed in formation as the rest followed. Taking notice of Nikola, a group of attendees nudged the celebrity to properly position him in line. Jelena, separated from him because of the throng, remembered why she hated coming to the Paschal service. She knew that she would not see Nikola again for hours.