Kissing and Crossing 1

In the middle of the motorway from the East into Heraklion, as you round a bend in a mountain valley, you're suddenly met by a zebra crossing and a small crowd of people stopped, parked and wandering about in various degrees of danger. Then you see the signpost to another monastery - St. George Selinari; this one is actually open this Sunday afternoon at 3 pm, at least the main gate is open, there's the inevitable old lady in black selling candles and there's a little chapel, also open.

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There the game seems to be to kiss as many pictures of saints as you can in the shortest possible time, crossing yourself non-stop all the while with a seriousness and degree of anxiety which betokens a certain insecurity about the effectiveness of the undertaking.

I wonder if there is a kind of rhythm behind it all, that you kiss one saint and cross yourself once at the same time, the goal being to achieve a seamless tapestry of kissing and crossing; yet sometimes indeed I notice that you might allow yourself to kiss two saints for one cross ...

It may be an unworthy thought, but I feel the shadow of an impression that the whole thing seems more of a superstitious nervous twitch than a conscious spiritual act.