Ethiopian Christmas celebrations begin

The congregation of St. Gebriel Church of the Ethiopians spills from the pews into the aisle. The men sit to one side. On the other, women sit wrapped in white shawls, the edges embroidered in yellow and green. Beneath a string of chandeliers, the crowd flows from the aisle into the foyer and trickles down the stairs.

Even those without a view of the altar stand and sing in Amharic, the language of Ethiopia. Among the swaying choir one man raps on a drum, letting out a deep boom. Female voices respond in a piercing chorus of ululations.

St. Gebriel's is in the middle of Seattle's Central Area, but, from the inside on a Sunday morning, it could easily pass for Ethiopia. Tomorrow night, Ethiopian Orthodox Christians will begin their Christmas celebrations, almost two weeks after many children left shredded wrapping paper piled around their Christmas trees.

"Everything we do in Seattle is in English," said Eyob Asfaw, a slender man who left Addis Ababa in 1996 and just finished a degree in engineering at the University of Washington. "In church, we speak and sing in our language. It reminds you of home. The ceremony, the people — all of this reminds you of your origins. It's like a little Ethiopia."

About 400 people regularly turn up for St. Gebriel's Sunday service. Seattle's Ethiopian population has more than quadrupled in the past decade — from 888 in 1990 to 4,035 in 2000, according to census data. Wars, famines and ethnic tension have sent thousands of Ethiopians to the United States since the mid-1970s.

To the church's leader, Archbishop Zena Markos, the swelling population of immigrants places a greater responsibility on St. Gebriel's to keep the newcomers anchored to Ethiopia's culture through the Orthodox church.

"We keep them from forgetting their past," Markos said through an interpreter. "Many of these Ethiopians have left behind their families, but, here, at least they haven't lost their religion."

The Christmas celebration is known as Lidet, shorthand for the "birth of light," Jesus Christ's birthday. Tomorrow evening, church services start at 6 with singing and continue until midnight. After that, dinner is offered in the auditorium on St. Gebriel's ground floor. The next day is spent with family. There are no church services.

Lidet lags behind Western Christianity's celebration because of the switch most of the Western world made to Pope Gregory's calendar, created in the 16th century. Ethiopian Orthodox still use the Julian calendar, the same version in use since the first century, which has fallen seven years and 13 days behind the Gregorian calendar.

Thus, to set foot in St. Gebriel's is to figuratively and literally step back in time: On their calendar, it's still 1995.

Melake Birhan Wolde Selassie leads the congregation in a prayer for those in Ethiopia suffering from the drought. "Lord, have compassion on us," they repeat in a haunting song, echoing Selassie's call. Bells ring, and everyone bows. Frankincense hangs in the air.

Behind the altar is the Holy of Holies, whose red curtains shield a replica of the Ark of the Covenant, the fabled chest containing the Ten Commandments. Called a tabot, it's an essential part of every Ethiopian Orthodox church. Ethiopian tradition has it that Menelik, the son of King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba, took the Ark from Jerusalem to Ethiopia, where it is now protected by a priest.

The church's followers say little has changed in their teachings and practices since two Syrian missionaries brought Christianity to the northern city of Axum in the fourth century, long before it spread across Europe. In the Middle Ages, Ethiopia was the only Christian country outside Europe. Because of this long seclusion, Markos claims the church's dogma is no different from that of the first Christian church.

St. Gebriel's four-hour service starts at 6:30 a.m., and the priests' chants and unchanging rituals seem paced on a slower, ancient time.

Like many in its congregation, however, the church is a recent arrival. Construction of the $1.5 million building finished in 2000, and took four years without a mortgage or any loans. A pillowcase, stuffed with coins and cash, was passed around every Sunday at Brighton Presbyterian Church, where St. Gebriel's held a two-hour service.

The building committee's chairman was Ezra Teshome, who arrived in Seattle in 1971. "I'm one of the old-timers," he said. "When I got here, I believe there were only about 12 of us."

Lidet is a subdued affair compared to Christmas as celebrated by the Western branches of Christianity. But, like Catholics and Protestants, Ethiopian Orthodox consider Easter the holiest day. Markos said Christ's resurrection, his second birth, was like the raising of Lazarus en masse.

"It's like July 4 for Christians," he said, chuckling at the analogy. "Before this, everybody was dead. It's Christianity's independence day. Easter is when we celebrate the day we were all liberated from death."

The Teshome family celebrates both Christmas and Lidet. They don't exchange gifts, but they do have a Christmas tree, which comes down as soon as Lidet ends.

Teshome said his family is "Ethiopian American." He finds strength in the Ethiopian Orthodox traditions and in the community of other Ethiopians at St. Gebriel. The church, he said, allows immigrants to immerse themselves in the melting pot without losing their culture and language. It cushions their landing.

"The church makes them feel like they're not lost," Teshome said. "They're in a new country; they have their freedom. And they can keep their culture."

Matthew Craft: 206-464-2194 or mcraft@seattletimes.com