I had never been to Mount Athos during Holy Week before. I had heard many things, but nothing prepares you for what you truly experience there. Everything is different. Quieter. Deeper. From the very first day until the Resurrection, every moment carries meaning.
Holy Monday
I arrived at one of the monasteries in the morning. They gave me a simple cell with a wooden bed and icons on the walls. That evening in church, I didn’t know what to focus on first: the hymns echoing from every direction or the incense slowly rising and filling the temple with fragrance. The Bridegroom – Christ – stood silently in the icon, and I couldn’t take my eyes off Him.
Holy Tuesday
I had heard the Hymn of Kassiani before. But not like this. The voice of the chanter trembled at first, then grew steady and wrapped around you. No one moved. Everyone listened intently. The incense floated gently, and the atmosphere felt otherworldly.
Holy Wednesday
The Sacrament of Holy Unction. We sat one by one as the fathers anointed our foreheads and palms with blessed oil. Nothing flashy – just silence, prayer, and a sense of cleansing from the inside out.
Twelve Gospels. We stood for hours, but no one complained. The Cross was at the center of the church, candles flickering, hymns rising. The reader’s voice carried the weight of each Gospel: the betrayal, the arrest, the trial, the Crucifixion. You felt like you were there.
Holy Friday
The quietest day. From early morning, there was a sense of heaviness. During the Deposition, monks gently removed the icon of Christ from the Cross and wrapped it in white cloth. Some couldn’t hold back tears. That evening, we walked in procession around the church with candles and chants that were slow, mournful, and full of grief.
Holy Saturday
Everyone was preparing for the Resurrection. The church was cleaned, decorated with flowers. Late at night, just before midnight, we all gathered. At "Come receive the light," one candle lit up, then another, and another. Soon the whole church was glowing. Simple, yet powerful.
Pascha – Resurrection Sunday
No fireworks, no big displays. Just "Christ is Risen" and warm embraces from people you barely knew. Afterwards, in the guesthouse, they offered red wine, sweet Easter bread, and a red egg. We sat together like old friends. It was the simplest, most authentic Pascha I’ve ever lived.I lived Holy Week in Mount Athos – and I didn’t return as the same person. There, the soul rests, the heart regains its rhythm, and the light of the Resurrection stays inside you.
✍️ By a traveler of faith – a soul that found light on the Holy Mountain.
