It is Easter Sunday in Tallinn. We have just returned from, first, a brief visit to the Russian Orthodox Church on Toompea, where congregants stood, holding kulich (Russian Easter cakes) and eggs to be blessed, waiting to be doused with holy water from a large brush that looked like a horsetail on a stick; and then Easter services at St. Olaf Lutheran Church in Vanalinn, where the congregants sat properly spaced apart from each other and listened to the Easter sermon and singing several unfamiliar hymns. (Music for this service also included the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy as a prelude, and ended with Handel's Halleluiah choir, instantly reminding me of multiple versions of this song that have been appearing on you-tube where the singers hold up the syllables of the song as they sing.)
Good Friday is a national holiday here and today is Easter, but the town seems deserted. We are told that many people may have used the long weekend to go to other parts of Europe, or to visit parents in the countryside. (It is also getting toward the last few days of Passover- so perhaps even Estonian Jews- all three of them- are off preparing the traditional final night of Pesach meal of shrimp, sausage, cheese matzah brie casserole :) ) I find the silence somewhat strange and I miss the feeling of a collective focus on an important religious holiday or religious practice. It is very different from the all encompassing, daily spirituality that I have become used to from my time in the Middle East and even in the U.S.
Before I launch into more thoughts, I should 'out' myself as a deeply spiritual person (which for me is something that is related to, but also different from, being religious.) This is probably not much of a surprise for any of you who know me well (or maybe even if you do not know me very well). To explain, my spirituality is less about 'faith' and more about the desire to live life in a way that embodies how I believe people should treat each other all the time (think: Buber and I-Thou). For me the Muslim practice of pausing several times a day to prostrate and remember their relationship to Allah, or the Jewish weekly practice of pausing on Shabbat to be reminded of the sacred, or even other cultures that practice mindful awareness on a daily level are an important part of the cultural spiritual fabric. When I have spent time in these cultures I feel grounded and connected.
This is not to say that Estonians are NOT spiritual. They are, but the form I see their spirituality taking often seems more personal than collective. Estonians are deeply connected to wildness of nature and pagan-earth centered spirituality. But this spirituality seem to reflect an individual relationship rather than a collective one. The collective traditions seem lost or diminished. I ask my students what they and their families do for Easter and they describe special food or egg-cracking traditions, but seem disconnected from any deeper personal meaning beyond 'it is something my grandparents do and so I do it with them.' Many of the descriptions feel incomplete- the rules of the 'egg cracking game' are unknown and the deeper reasons for such tradition are unclear. While religion does not seem to be an active form of Estonian spirituality for most, there are other Estonian practices that appear to me to be deeply spiritual. Singing for example. Singing together is a deep part of the Estonian psyche, and whether it is older people or my own students, the process of singing with others seems to transport everyone.
My questions about Estonian spirituality feels connected to other questions and conversations I have had that focus on how Estonian express their responsibilities to others and the nation's 'social contract'. On a daily level, I am often aware of the strong Estonian value of autonomy and independence. In the winter I noticed that people do not help people who have slipped and fallen on the icy winter streets, even if they are older or clearly infirm. In my own program, I need to be extremely proactive in asking about basic curricular details: Am I teaching a specific class? Who are my students? Can I teach the class my way or are there specific requirements? What is the department attendance policy? How do final grades get posted? Once I ask, the information is readily offered, but I have to find out who the appropriate person is and then ask them directly. Similarly, meetings are scheduled, but I find out the location only when I ask. A student offers me tea between two long classes that I am teaching, but does not let me know when the water is hot or offer to make it for me. In general, while I am clearly a visitor, people rarely take the initiative to offer helpful information. My experience is of an absence or unwillingness to act out of, what to me seems like empathy.
How to explain these different impressions? Are the patterns I see a result of Soviet times, when everyone was suspect, especially strangers? Or is this a reflection of Estonian self-sufficiency? (Estonians frequently point out the 'Estonian need for space' as reflected by the large distances between farm houses in traditional rural society.) Young people in their 30's and 40's are parents but so many seem to be separated and also living on their own rather than in an extended family. In all of these ways, there seems to be an underlying value for independence. On the other hand, Estonia has a progressive health care system, particularly when compared to what we have in America. Historically, prior to their independence, Estonians created their own national identity cards which pre-citizens could request as a way of asserting national identity. The political structure seems to reflect a level of social responsibility that is not visible to me on a personal level.
And what does this have to do with spirituality and how spirituality is often a guide for how we should treat each other on a daily basis? Most religions and spiritual practices have strong directions about how we should treat others, whether they are 'us' or 'them'. And yet, in Estonia I observe the role of religion as being fairly minimal for most people, especially if they are young. If religion is not guiding how people should be with other people, then what are the factors that influence social behavior? How much of what I am seeing is a reflection of social character, and what is a result of trauma from the Soviet experience? I do not have answers to these questions, but since Passover is the time to ask questions, I am comfortable with asking them, rather than needing answers. To be continued.......
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