Berkley Center

At the very beginning of my freshman year at Georgetown, when my homesickness seemed unbearable, I found my way to St. Sophia Greek Orthodox Church in Cathedral Heights. I stumbled up the grand steps, opened the large, heavy door, and quietly venerated the icons before taking a seat near the back. Though everything felt unfamiliar—from the people to the space—I instantly felt calmed by the sweet smell of the incense, the familiar chanting, and the warmth of a community filled with worshippers just like me. At a time in my life when I felt disconnected from my once-solid sources of identity—home, family, and friends—I found moments of solace by reconnecting with my Orthodox faith.

Two years later, I now find myself abroad in Lyon, France. Beginning to live in an unfamiliar place yet again, with little save for passable French and an extremely overpacked suitcase, I have felt similar to my freshman self in many ways since coming abroad. Much as I did freshman year, I recently found the Greek Orthodox church in Lyon. First walking into the Église Orthodoxe Grecque de l’Annonciation, I felt the same comfort and welcoming spirit that I had experienced as a homesick freshman. I once again heard the familiar chanting, smelled the incense, and quietly found my place near the back. However, it dawned on me that while my experience felt similar in many ways, I have changed immensely since 2017. 

In addition to developing my understanding of the French language, allowing me to follow the service as it switched between Greek and French, I have grown in my understanding of my own identity. Whereas I had once tied this identity to a place, I now understand that my identity is mobile. As I have learned, just as Orthodox churches exist in both Washington, DC, and Lyon, so can my identity. It is this exact anchoring ability that continually draws me to Orthodoxy and entices me to continue learning more about its history and theology. The service I attend here in Lyon is the same that my ancestors have celebrated for generations before me, and the same that my friends and family back in the United States will be celebrating in their own time zones. It is even the same service in which I found relief as a homesick, 18-year-old, at a time when I felt lost and out of touch with my identity. 

Since being in France, where historical structures from centuries ago seemingly adorn every street corner, I often find myself wondering how individuals, with far less technology than we have today, could have built such magnificent structures that have literally stood the test of time. When I think about the Orthodox Christian faith, I am struck by this same question. How could such a faith have lasted centuries and continue to serve as a link between me, my genetic family, my spiritual family, and thousands of years of worshippers? While the traditions of the Orthodox faith might have remained relatively unchanged for centuries, individuals participating in the faith have each adopted it as part of their own unique identity. The intergenerational community of Orthodox Christians has been formed by individuals like myself who have made the choice to practice the faith. The strong historical structures that I see throughout Lyon have lasted them through centuries, enduring intense weather, wars, and the general wear and tear of hundreds of years of existence. So too, has the Orthodox faith grounded believers in their identities, much as it will continue to do for me no matter my zip code.