"Fearful young people die. I brought the story to an end when I outlived them too" (Mr. Balašević)
I left Cetinje for an event that could already be called historic. On the election and enthronement of the new Serbian patriarch (of that institution which is a caring friend, historical peer and older brother of our Zeta metropolitans). However, I never dreamed (not even in my wildest dreams) that I would participate in the farewell of my own (never met) friend, peer (of all our upbringings) and older brother, the poet Đorđe Balašević. The poet who is the same, the new Serbian patriarch, Mr. Porfirij sent off with the words "Our Đola".
This makes it all the easier for me, the priest from Cetinje, to draw how and why I connect this great church event with this great generational sadness with the deepest personal emotions. On the same day, the morning dawned in the Belgrade Cathedral (where in the previous century, among others, Serbian patriarchs - Varnava Rosić from Pljevlja, Gavrilo Dožić from Morača and the "holy" Patriarch Pavle) dined in the previous century and shone its rays on the graves of Vuk Karadžić and Dositej Obradović. It illuminated the white panel of His Holiness the Patriarch of the Serbian Orthodox Church and the faces of numerous believers. On the same day, the morning dawned, and night fell on Novi Sad, where the "Sailor without the Sea" was imprinted on its last half, and in many respects the follower of the aforementioned Vuk and Dositej, a virtuoso of language and rhyme, Mr. Balašević.
In the company of my sons (who - as a wise artist said - during their upbringing I tried to familiarize them as closely as possible with Balašević's artistic oeuvre, as a parameter of humanity) I headed towards Miletić's monument where the people of Novi Sad were already lighting candles. But - where can I find candles at that time? I arrived late and the churches were locked. Imagine, a priest without candles, going - as the people of Cetinje would say - to "repentance" which is rare to see, and which will not happen again! Nevertheless, there are Perovićs everywhere, including in Novi Sad. And among them was an experienced and dexterous one who brought me a bunch of candles from Jerusalem to the square in Novi Sad. That famous bundle on which the blessed fire burns for Easter. Believers mostly keep it in their homes as a shrine where, out of respect, they no longer light the prayer flame. I looked at the old name of the last name with a look that asks "Should I light these candles"? He silently replied with a nod of approval.
I asked myself, would it be inappropriate to have these very candles burning there among other candles? Does this festive bunch of candles befit Balasevic, who did not emphasize his confessionalism or his religiousness? Don't mind me? That the Lord does not hold a grudge against me (the Deceased knew how to write and say all kinds of things "outside the canon")? But quickly all those questions seemed superfluous to me. First, I remembered "The Epiphany Night", then "Protina's Daughter", then "The Mother Who Was Quickly Crossed", "Christmas Eve", "Candles for St. John", "Christmas" (from the song "I Don't Like January"...) "Wine" from Ravanica" and the baptismal celebration at Balašević, which has been retold a hundred times (which was also celebrated during communism because "they didn't know it wasn't allowed"). And then I said to myself: "Well tonight, you're not going to tell Balašević how much of a believer he is, but light those candles for the man of God"! The fact that "pops" rhymed with "cannons" in one of his songs should go to "God for truth", and I would gladly accept that on my soul as an expression of gratitude for the beauty with which he showered all of our childhoods and puberty. , and "first love" and the knowledge that "Someone from above sees everything", and after all, everything that fits into the space from the "touch of silk" to the "abyss" of our lives.
And when I finally came to the place of remembrance and prayer, I saw all kinds of candles and lanterns, dedications and decorations, and of course - stuffed rabbits! For the fire that ignited in the souls of all of us who speak one language, may the gracious fire of gratitude burn, and may, by no means, these remaining days of our lives, after Balašević, not be a "sad third act" in this world. Because Balašević just hid from the world, and said to his Muse, "If they're looking for me, you agree that I've been dead for a long time." Now, Djole - don't! We know you and we know each other...
Many people have spoken out about Balasevic's departure these days, and the most impressive to me was the message of Vlad Georgijev, who "doesn't know what to say when Đorđe Balašević leaves"?! That's right. In his poems, death was simply grammatically incorrect, so only his "death" is completely unconvincing information. And the media today write all sorts of things, well - it's not easy to believe in such unreal news.
I know a lot of people who like to simplify things and call the great Artist a traitor because he "sang to theirs" and not to "ours", and because he didn't call things the way most call them. They forget that this man sang one of the most poignant prayers "Let there be no war", and that it is difficult to ask such a Prophet to swim in all the waters "on bad days, when the water falls". After all, let me return to the Serbian patriarch, Pjesnik's neighbor, the monk from Kovil, Saint Porphyry, who, as a Serb "from the bottom of the tub" at the enthronement in Belgrade, said that Croatia was his "second homeland". This made me return from this sadness (for Đ. Balašević) and from this joy (for the new patriarch) to my homeland, Montenegro. In the "farmhouse of St. Basil" as sung by Đorđe.
Maybe the time has come, or the time is coming soon, when we will outlive our mutual fears, as the "Warrior of the Paorian heart" says, and when, therefore, we will mature and bring the story (of our divisions and our mutual hatred) to an end. We owe it to this country, to these streets, to leave room for "some new kids" who will not look at themselves through that "scope" that asks "I'm one of theirs, or I'm not really".
Magnificent and unsurpassed masters,
Mr. and teacher Đorđe Balašević
May your soul be eternally pleased with that heavenly "Saint Basil's Hall"...
The author is the rector of Cetinje Theological Seminary
Bonus video:
