WASHINGTON (AP) — Dressed head to toe in white, hundreds of Ethiopian Orthodox Christians packed tightly into Washington, D.C.’s DSK Mariam Church to sing hymns in the ancient language Ge’ez, to pray, and to stand vigil as their Easter Sunday unfolded.
The celebration of Christ's resurrection, a core belief known as Fasika in Amharic, is observed a week after Catholic and Protestant Easter.
“We dress in white so that we are groomed for heaven,” said
Archdeacon Getahun Atlaw.
For the Ethiopian Orthodox, Fasika is the most important and revered time of the church calendar. Festivities and rituals build in intensity over Holy Week, culminating in an eight-hour, overnight service that ends with the breaking of a 55-day fast in which believers abstain from meat and animal products.
For some members of the DSK Mariam Church, hardships were greater this year as Ethiopian communities in the U.S. faced efforts from the Trump administration to revoke temporary protected status for over 5,000 people from Ethiopia.
A federal judge recently blocked this decision.
“It takes a grind and courage to get to where they’re at,” said 18-year-old deacon Jonathan Melaku of the members who founded the church. “Our people will always stay resilient.”
Many Ethiopian families have come to the U.S. over the past 50 years, and the Washington church is now filled with first- and second-generation Ethiopian Americans.
“Ethiopians are hard workers, disciplined, mannered, and they know how to come together,” Atlaw said. “We’re not here merely, we bring values.”
DSK Mariam, formally known as Re’ese Adbarat Debre Selam Kidist Mariam Church, is part of the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo tradition — one of the oldest branches of Christianity.
Located in the D.C. metro area, home to the largest Ethiopian diaspora community in the United States, the church serves roughly 4,000 people weekly.
This Easter, about 1,500 people gathered for the overnight service, which ended at 3 a.m. on Sunday.
“The climax is the resurrection because if there was no resurrection, there would be no Christianity. It would just be an empty philosophy,” said Abraham Habte-Sellassie, a “kesis” or priest — who helped lead the Divine Liturgy from midnight to 3 a.m., representing the three hours they believe Christ was on the cross.
Sebawit Yirsaw, who joined the church 16 years ago just after she immigrated from Ethiopia, says people feel a special connection during Fasika because they want to be saved.
“The salvation is always something that we feel like much needed because we all go through a lot of hardship in life,” she said.
Earlier in the week, on Good Friday, the priests huddled together and were covered in a dark purple and gold garments, representing Christ triumphing over evil and providing salvation. The priests together chanted, “Lord have mercy upon me.”
At another point, clergymen beat out a flame, representing the defeat of Satan.
And throughout this service congregants and clergy alike prostrated dozens of times.
“We’re living Christ-like as much as we can,” said Atlaw. “The prostration is a passion to Christ’s love. What he has done for us, the sacrifice.”
On Easter, during the nocturnal service, the lights are dimmed and long skinny wax candles called tuaf are lit to represent the moment of resurrection, when they believe the light of Christ dispelled the darkness.
The church erupted as clergy and lay people alike chanted: “Your resurrection is for us who believe. Send your light upon us, send your light upon us.”
“The celebration is so joyful that you don’t even feel that you’re tired,” said 21-year-old Deacon Amanuel Argaw.
After the Easter service, congregants rushed out into the dimly lit streets, birds softly chirping, drawn by the smell of doro wat, a traditional Ethiopian dish of spicy chicken, simmering in spices.
Gathered in small groups on the sidewalk, congregants ate small bites to break the fast before going home to rest.
Later in the day, family and friends gathered for an Easter feast and fully broke the fast together over doro wat and other traditional Ethiopian food.
Continuing these ancient traditions in the United States and teaching them to the youth is crucial for members of the community.
“This history and value can go wherever Ethiopians go. This is our history. How can we take it lightly? … This is who we are,” said Atlaw. “We have to pass it from generation to generation.”
For Selamawit Tekola, breaking Easter fast with her large Ethiopian family is a must.
“When Selama says, take off work and show up, it’s not optional,” joked Tekola's niece, Adey Thomas, as they sat together in a house full of friends and family.
“In the States, it’s very, you know, rush to go, go, go especially in the D.C. area,” Thomas. “This is the one time to stop and celebrate with family.”
So, on a warm Easter Sunday in Virginia, the family showed up. Dressed in traditional clothing they stood together around the homemade food and said a prayer. They shared traditional honey wine called Tej and eventually Ethiopian coffee.
“I was born Orthodox and I respect it, I love it. So that means a lot for us.” said Tekola. “That’s what we are teaching our children.”
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