JFK Airport yesterday.
“First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Socialist.
“Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.
“Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Jew.
“Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.”
Paul Crock/Agence France-Presse — Getty Images
MELBOURNE, Australia — In one of the biggest upsets in Australian Open history, Novak Djokovic, a six-time champion in the tournament, was defeated in five sets in the second round by Denis Istomin, a wild card from Uzbekistan ranked 117th in the world.
With Istomin’s stunning 7-6 (10-8), 5-7, 2-6, 7-6 (7-5), 6-4 victory, Djokovic, ranked No. 2, suffered his earliest defeat in a Grand Slam tournament in nearly nine years.
It was also the latest blow to Djokovic’s battered aura of invincibility. In June, after winning the French Open for the first time, the elastic Serb held all four Grand Slam singles titles at the same time. Now, he is the reigning champion only in Paris.
“He was an underdog, but he didn’t show any nerves in the big moments,” Djokovic said about his opponent after the match. “Surely he didn’t play that many big matches, but just everything came together for him. It was the right moment for him, the right day, and he was better.”
Djokovic was upset in the third round of Wimbledon last year by an American, Sam Querrey, surprised in the final of the United States Open by Stan Wawrinka, and then shocked on Thursday afternoon by Istomin, who made it into the Australian Open only by winning an Asian wild-card event.
But although Djokovic and the other members of the so-called Big Four have dominated tennis over the last decade, there is great depth and danger at the lower levels. Istomin, a 30-year-old in wraparound sunglasses, made it clear from the start that this could be a struggle. The opening game required 16 minutes before Djokovic won it and raised both arms in celebration.
But Istomin would be the one exulting nearly five hours later, when he finished off the biggest win of his career with a powerful first serve down the middle that Djokovic, one of the best returners in history, lunged for and reached with his backhand but could not manage to put back in play.
“First of all, I feel sorry for Novak; I was playing so good today,” Istomin said after the match. “I surprised myself as well.”
“So many lines!” Djokovic complained at one frustrated stage as Istomin hit another winner.
But though this might have been vintage Istomin, it was far from vintage Djokovic. At his best, the 29-year-old is one of the most consistent baseline players in history. On Thursday, he had more unforced errors (72) than winners (68), and he also looked tentative at some major turning points.
“There was intensity, of course,” Djokovic said. “We played four-and-a-half hours. It’s just that, you know, it’s one of these days when you don’t feel that great on the court, don’t have much rhythm, and the player you’re playing against is feeling the ball very well. So, you know, that’s sport.”
His defeat leaves Andy Murray, the world’s No. 1 player, as the favorite to win his first Australian Open title. But Istomin’s big moment will give many lesser-ranked men faith that they, too, can play the match of their lives in Rod Laver Arena.
Μια τέτοια νύχτα πριν από χρόνια
Κάποιος περπάτησε μόνος
Δεν ξέρω πόσα λασπωμένα χιλιόμετρα
Κάποιος περπάτησε μόνος
Νύχτα και συννεφιά, χωρίς άστρα
Πήγαινε το δρόμο δρόμο
Ξημερώματα, μπήκε στα Γιάννενα
Στο πρώτο χάνι έφαγε και κοιμήθηκε τρία μερόνυχτα
Ξύπνησε απ’ το χιόνι που έπαιφτε μαλακά
Στάθηκε στο παράθυρο και άκουγε τα κλαρίνα
Και άκουγε τα κλαρίνα
Πότε θαμπά και πότε δίπλα του
Και πότε δίπλα του
Όπως τα ‘φερνε ο άνεμος
Και άκουσε μετά τη φωνή πεντακάθαρη
Από κάπου κοντά την άκουσε
Σαν αλύχτημα και σαν να την έσφαζαν τη γυναίκα
Κι ούτε καυγάς, ούτε τίποτα άλλο
Όλη νύχτα στα Γιάννενα χιόνιζε
Ξημερώματα, πλήρωσε ότι χρωστούσε και γύριζε στο χωριό του
Στα πενήντα του θα ‘τανε
Με γκρίζα μαλλιά και τρεις θυγατέρες, ανύπαντρες
Χήρος τέσσερα χρόνια
Στα πενήντα του θα ‘τανε
Χήρος τέσσερα χρόνια
Με τη μαύρη κάπα στις πλάτες
Αχ, το τι χιόνι σήκωσαν
Τι χιόνι σήκωσαν τούτες οι πλάτες
Κανένας δε το ‘μαθε…
Κανένας δε το ‘μαθε…
For translation see: Jiannena
“Ono šta radiš na Božić radićeš cele godine” — “What you do for Christmas, you will do for the entire year.”
I think that when I start worrying about Djoković’ nervous condition, my friends start to worry about my nervous condition. So — the timing couldn’t have been better — I posted that piece about Nole’s possible meltdown as 2016 closed, and the day after Christmas, he wins the first of the year’s Grand Slams in Melbourne. A great start!
(And a great game from Murray too.)
And M. from Novi Sad rushed to send me this Serbian proverb to lift my spirits even higher than they already were. Nice of friends to think of you.
She actually sent me the proverb in Latin script first, and I asked her for the Cyrillic for the post. We then bonded around our concern for the use of Cyrillic script, because it actually does bug me in Serbia that so much “public” language uses Latin script.
There’s even a graffiti campaign apparently:
“Write with the Cryrllic.”
Take heed. It’s a slippery slope. You write Latin script for this and then for that and then for everything and the Cyrillic gets harder and harder to use. Then one morning you wake up and you’re Croatian.
And Христос се роди! Christ is born! Merry Christmas! And let’s hope Djok bears out the truth in the proverb.
This is a question, or comes as part of misguided well-wishing, that I get at this time of the year when people find out I’m Orthodox. “Your Christmas is January 6th, right?” “Epiphany? What’s Epiphany?” “That’s right! Three Kings’ Day?!” “But Russian Christmas is January 6th, right?” “Is that what they call ‘little Christmas’?” And the thing is that this is one of those questions that people aren’t really interested in hearing the entire answer to because it’s so complicated, and you see their eyes start glazing over just as you’ve started to explain, so I usually mumble “uh-huh” or something and change the topic. So let this post be my official statement on the issue that people can refer to when they want to know what the deal is, or on those nights when the Ambien isn’t working.
Once upon a time, Julius Caesar created a calendar. Well, even if it wasn’t Caesar himself but his astronomers, it was known as the Julian calendar and it was what the entire Christian world used until the sixteenth century. That’s when Western astronomers — during the reign of Pope Gregory XIII — who were smarter than Caesar’s astronomers, realized that the calendar we were all using was off, vis-à-vis certain fixed astronomical events like solstices and equinoxes, and especially the all-important Vernal Equinox* by which the date of Easter is calculated: that it had drifted back some ten days over the centuries, meaning the day that was actually March 20th, let’s say, had slipped back to the day we were calling March 10th at the time. So they came up with a new calendar that was more accurate, called Gregorian, like the Pope. They just skipped the errant ten days. And one fine evening of March 10th, let’s say, Christians the world over went to bed and when they woke up it wasn’t March 11th but March 21st. With me so far?
After some fuss, Western Christians accepted the new calendar. The hyper-traditional Russian Orthodox Church and the rest of the Orthodox Churches, which were mostly part of Muslim states at the time, kept the Old/Julian Calendar, till the early twentieth-century when the Greek and Romanian churches adopted the New/Gregorian Calendar, while the other ones (and the monastic communities of Mount Athos) continued and continue using the Julian Calendar. One of several critical points: since the sixteenth-century change the discrepancy has grown so that the Julian Calendar is now thirteen days behind the astronomically correct Gregorian Calendar.
So, Christmas? Well, Russians celebrate Christmas on what the West calls January 7th. Mind you, their church calendars say December 25th when ours say January 7th, so they don’t really celebrate it on January 7th. It’s just January 7th to us. Though, actually, if you ask a Serb or a Russian when, for example, St. Nicholas’ Day is, they’ll say December 19th — meaning on our current, modern Gregorian calendar — though on their church books it’s still December 6th, when the West and Greeks and Romanians celebrate it. The key point is that on the Old/Julian Calendar everything is thirteen days later.
I generally find this calendar difference to be a nuisance, one of the negatives of the decentralized structure of the Orthodox Church, mostly because you get vacation at all the wrong times and have to ask for days off, but also because, despite the often scathing condescension I feel for most of Western Christianity, I am an oecumenist at heart. And it’s unpleasant to celebrate Christmas on a different day than other Orthodox Christians or even Easter on a different date than the West. On the other hand, sometimes it’s nice. It’s nice to celebrate Easter without the cheap plastic crap of Easter Bunnies and parades all around. And it’s nice to get to drop into church in early January when the late December craziness of Christmas in this country — no matter how hard one has tried to stay out of it — has made it impossible for you to even light a simple candle for the holiday. Convenient, in a sense, as well; if I can’t get to a Greek church on August 15th, for example, for the Dormition of the Virgin, (or here) I can always go to a Russian one on August 28th. But generally, I think it’s the dumbest kind of traditionalism to stick to the Old Calendar. I mean, even if we’re so literal-minded as to think that we know when Christ was born — or even so literal-minded as to think He actually existed — we now know, scientifically, that the day we were calling December 25th is not December 25th. So what’s the problem? Russians, of course, make off like bandits with this deal. Communism made New Year the most important holiday of the year, but even then everyone still celebrated Old New Year on January 13th. Now festivities in post-communist Russia start around Western Christmas, go through New Year’s, celebrate Russian Christmas proper on January 7th, and still celebrate Old New Year on January 13th — a month of more than the usual everybody-being-plastered.
Easter? Oh, Easter. Why do Greeks celebrate Christmas with the West but Easter with other Orthodox Churches? Again, a result of the decentralized structure of Orthodoxy. The Greek Church switched to the Gregorian calendar for everything else, but, due to the fundamental centrality of Easter and the Easter cycle (Lent-Easter-Pentecost) to the faith (something the West has quite seriously lost sight of), it was decided that Greeks and Romanians would continue to calculate the date of Easter according to the Julian Calendar in order to stay in step with the others and maintain Orthodox solidarity.
“But what about January 6th then??!!” you ask, desperately seeking Christian truth. January 6th is the Feast of the Epiphany. I repeat: January 6th is the Feast of the Epiphany. The Богоявление in Church Slavonic, Bogojavljenje — The “God Revelation,” literally, or also colloquially called Jordaninden in some South Slav languages: “Jordan Day.” Er, like the river, right? That’s right. It’s the day Jesus Christ was baptized in the river Jordan by his cousin John the Baptist and the beginning of Christ’s ministry. But this happened when Christ was 30. He was baptized on January 6th, thus the Twelve Days of Christmas, but it was January 6th thirty years later; it’s purely coincidental that they come so close to each other, but understandable that Christian observance would lump them together into one holiday season.** But Epiphany is not a holiday thematically related to Christmas or Christ’s birth; it’s not part of the first few weeks of His life. It’s also purely coincidental that Epiphany comes twelve days after Christmas and that the Old and New Calendars diverge by thirteen days. But that’s the reason people have heard of something about January 6th and think “Russian Christmas” is January 6th. It’s not. It’s the 7th. January 6th is Russian Christmas Eve. And that means Russian Epiphany is…..? Have you been paying attention? Very good. January 19th. Thirteen days later. Though, again, Russian and Serbian and Bulgarian Churches are celebrating it on what — for them — is January 6th.
The Epiphany is one of the Great Feasts of the Church and of great theological significance, which is really why I get so worked up about this issue. It’s not just the day Christ was baptized in the Jordan by his cousin John the Baptist. At the moment of His baptism, the Holy Spirit descended from heaven in the form of a dove, and the voice of the Father was heard saying: “Οὗτός ἐστιν ὁ υἱός μου ὁ ἀγαπητός, ἐν ᾧ εὐδόκησα.” “This is my Son, in whom I am well pleased.” Thus, it’s the first time that the Trinity was revealed to mankind in all three of its forms at once. That’s what Epiphany, or Theophany, as it’s also known, (Επιφάνεια or Θεοφάνεια) mean: the “showing” or “revelation” of God — in all His forms. It was also my father’s nameday (“Fotios,” like “photo” for light — the day is often colloquially known as “The Lights” in Greek) and an important holiday in his village.
And the Three Kings? Three Kings’ Day is an abomination whose prohibition I will begin to work towards as soon as I am elected to the College of Cardinals. Honestly, sorry to be so churlish and ruin the fun of hundreds of millions of little Hispanic kids, but I genuinely find the observance to be more than mildly offensive. I don’t care that it doesn’t make any sense textually – that the gospels are clear that within days of His birth Mary and Joseph had whisked Christ off to safety in Egypt and that they weren’t sitting around in the cold for almost two weeks waiting for these “kings” to come. (Though it’s cool that these “kings” were likely Zoroastrian priests from Iran — searching for something they had heard would happen towards the West around the Winter Solstice — Yalda). I just think it’s the Catholic Church at its cheapest, most propagandistic worst to let a holiday of such theological importance degenerate into a by-product of Franciscan Christ-Child piety (like most of Christmas in the West anyway) and to officially condone this sentimental tripe about frankincense and myrrh, while the real meaning of the holiday is completely forgotten, as if believers are incapable of understanding the real theology behind the day. It’s the Catholic Church at its Grand Inquisitor worst, actually — and there I’m with Dostoyevsky: give ’em a show and a nice little parade and keep their loyalty and submission; they’re too stupid to get the deep stuff anyway and you’ll only risk confusing them and then, enraged, they’ll turn on you: “Ecco homo….Ἰδοὺ ὁ ἄνθρωπος.” It’s one of the many ways that Rome still seems to be incapable of finding a way between the most ruthless authoritarianism and the cheapest populism. Though that, of course, was exactly Dostoyevsky’s point: that the two work hand-in-hand.
Which is why, aside from its incredible power as a scene in and of itself, I find the segment from Twelve Years a Slave I posted at top to be immensely gratifying; a slave at least knew that “John” and “baptism in the Jordan” had something to do with “Three” — and not three kings…
In seaside parts of Greece, the “blessing of the waters” is performed, where the priest throws a cross into the sea and young men dive in to retrieve it.
A few years ago, the Turkish government permitted Greeks in İstanbul to perform the rite again, though for the Patriarch to do so at the Fanari on the Golden Horn, they generally have to call out Turkish commandos to protect the participants from the Çarşamba*** crazies from up the hill.
Oh, and just to add to the confusion, early Christians actually did celebrate the Nativity of Christ on January 6th, but the Church moved it to the 25th of December at some point so they could get a piece of the Saturnalia and Mithra-Birthday celebration market.
* Easter is the first Sunday after the first Full Moon after the Vernal Equinox, thus, the first Sunday after the first Full Moon, 14-15 of Nissan — the first night of Passover — in the Jewish Calendar…I think. In short, the first Sunday after the first night of Passover, one more indication that the New calendar is the more correct way to calculate and number things.
** On the Old Julian Calendar Easter often came so early that Carnival began in late January, thus Epiphany, or Twelfth Night, was considered the beginning of Carnival — one long wintery festival season from Christmas to Ash Wednesday. This is why Shakespeare’s play, which has nothing to do with the Epiphany, was called “Twelfth Night” — because it was a comedy commissioned for the beginning of Carnival. For some reason, in the more Slavic, — yes, I said it: S-L-A-V-I-C — parts of northwestern Greece, like Lerin or Kostur, serious Carnival time is early January, and includes elements much like what we know of the Roman Saturnalia, and not the pre-Lenten season that it is elsewhere. And he have evidence that the Byzantines celebrated a similar, Roman-Saturnalia-derived extended festive time throughout the winter.
Oh… But what’s Carnival? And Lent? Ash Wednesday? Oooofff….other posts…
*** Çarşamba is a hyper-religious — yes, I’ll just call it fundamentalist — mahalla, up the hill from the Fanari, the once entirely Greek neighborhood on the northern shore of the Old City where the Patriarchate is located. It’s the only part of İstanbul I — and not a few İstanbullus themselves — genuinely feel uncomfortable being in or walking through, and occasional bits of fun like Molotovs tossed into the Patriarchate’s compound usually come from these lovely black-clad, bearded neighbors of ours.
Maybe Melbourne will be the beginning of a new start, because we know there’s a thin line with him between these flip-outs and professional disintegration; though usually he sadistically tortures us by bringing us to the edge of the abyss, then making some sort of theatrical recovery.