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Published by
St. Paul’s Greek Orthodox
Church (Irvine,
CA)
First Visit to an Orthodox
Church--Twelve
Things I Wish I'd Known
by
Frederica Mathewes-Green
Orthodox worship
is different! Some of these differences are
apparent, if perplexing, from the first moment
you walk in a church. Others become noticeable
only over time. Here is some information that may
help you feel more at home in Orthodox
worship--twelve things I wish I'd known before my
first visit to an Orthodox church.
1. What's all this
commotion?
During the early part of the service the church
may seem to be in a hubbub, with people walking
up to the front of the church, praying in front of
the iconostasis (the standing icons in front of
the altar), kissing things and lighting candles,
even though the service is already going on. In
fact, when you came in the service was already
going on, although the sign outside clearly said
"Divine Liturgy, 9:30." You felt embarrassed to
apparently be late, but these people are even
later, and they're walking all around inside the
church. What's going on here?
In an Orthodox church there is only one
Eucharistic service (Divine Liturgy) per Sunday,
and it is preceded by an hour-long service of
Matins (or Orthros) and several short preparatory
services before that. There is no break between
these services--one begins as soon as the previous
ends, and posted starting times are just educated
guesses. Altogether, the priest will be at the
altar on Sunday morning for over three hours,
"standing in the flame," as one Orthodox priest
put it.
As a result of this state of continuos flow, there
is no point at which everyone is sitting quietly
in a pew waiting for the entrance hymn to start,
glancing at their watches approaching 9:30.
Orthodox worshippers arrive at any point from the
beginning of Matins through the early part of the
Liturgy, a span of well over an hour. No matter
when they arrive, something is sure to be already
going on, so Orthodox don't let this hamper them
from going through the private prayers appropriate
to just entering a church. This is distracting to
newcomers, and may even seem disrespectful, but
soon you begin to recognize it as an expression of
a faith that is not merely formal but very
personal. Of course, there is still no good excuse
for showing up after 9:30, but punctuality is
unfortunately one of the few virtues many Orthodox
lack.
2. Stand up, stand
up for Jesus.
In the Orthodox tradition, the faithful stand up
for nearly the entire service. Really. In some
Orthodox churches, there won't even be any chairs,
except a few scattered at the edges of the room
for those who need them. Expect variation in
practice: some churches, especially those that
bought already-existing church buildings, will
have well-used pews. In any case, if you find the
amount of standing too challenging you're welcome
to take a seat. No one minds or probably even
notices. Long-term standing gets easier with
practice.
3. In this sign.
To say that we make the sign of the cross
frequently would be an understatement. We sign
ourselves whenever the Trinity is invoked,
whenever we venerate the cross or an icon, and on
many other occasions in the course of the Liturgy.
But people aren't expected to do everything the
same way. Some people cross themselves three times
in a row, and some finish by sweeping their right
hand to the floor. On first entering a church
people may come up to an icon, make a "metania"--crossing
themselves and bowing with right hand to the
floor--twice, then kiss the icon, then make one
more metania. This becomes familiar with time, but
at first it can seem like secret-handshake stuff
that you are sure to get wrong. Don't worry, you
don't have to follow suit.
We cross with our right hands from right to left
(push, not pull), the opposite of Roman Catholics
and high-church Protestants. We hold our hands in
a prescribed way: thumb and first two fingertips
pressed together, last two fingers pressed down to
the palm. Here as elsewhere, the Orthodox impulse
is to make everything we do reinforce the Faith.
Can you figure out the symbolism? (Three fingers
together for the Trinity; two fingers brought down
to the palm for the two natures of Christ, and his
coming down to earth.) This, too, takes practice.
A beginner's imprecise arrangement of fingers
won't get you denounced as a heretic.
4. What, no
kneelers?
Generally, we don't kneel. We do sometimes
prostrate. This is not like prostration in the
Roman Catholic tradition, lying out flat on the
floor. To make a prostration we kneel, place our
hands on the floor and touch our foreheads down
between our hands. It's just like those photos of
middle-eastern worship, which look to Westerners
like a sea of behinds. At first prostration feels
embarrassing, but no one else is embarrassed, so
after awhile it feels OK. Ladies will learn that
full skirts are best for prostrations, as flat
shoes are best for standing.
Sometimes we do this and get right back up again,
as during the prayer of St. Ephraim the Syrian,
which is used frequently during Lent. Other times
we get down and stay there awhile, as some
congregations do during part of the Eucharistic
prayer. Not everyone prostrates. Some kneel, some
stand with head bowed; in a pew they might slide
forward and sit crouched over. Standing there
feeling awkward is all right too. No one will
notice if you don't prostrate. In Orthodoxy there
is a wider acceptance of individualized
expressions of piety, rather than a sense that
people are watching you and getting offended if
you do it wrong.
One former Episcopal priest said that seeing
people prostrate themselves was one of the things
that made him most eager to become Orthodox. He
thought, "That's how we should be before God."
5. With Love and
Kisses
We kiss stuff. When we first come into the church,
we kiss the icons (Jesus on the feet and other
saints on the hands, ideally). You'll also notice
that some kiss the chalice, some kiss the edge of
the priest's vestment as he passes by, the
acolytes kiss his hand when they give him the
censer, and we all line up to kiss the cross at
the end of the service. When we talk about
"venerating" something we usually mean crossing
ourselves and kissing it.
We kiss each other before we take communion
("Greet one another with a kiss of love," 1 Peter
5:14). When Roman Catholics or high-church
Protestants "pass the peace," they give a hug,
handshake, or peck on the cheek; that's how
Westerners greet each other. In Orthodoxy
different cultures are at play: Greeks and Arabs
kiss on two cheeks, and Slavs come back again for
a third. Follow the lead of those around you and
try not to bump your nose.
The usual greeting is "Christ is in our midst" and
response, "He is and shall be." Don't worry if you
forget what to say. The greeting is not the one
familiar to Episcopalians, "The peace of the Lord
be with you." Nor is it "Hi, nice church you have
here." Exchanging the kiss of peace is a
liturgical act, a sign of mystical unity. Chatting
and fellowship is for later.
6. Blessed bread
and consecrated bread
Only Orthodox may take communion, but anyone may
have some of the blessed bread. Here's how it
works: the round communion loaf, baked by a
parishioner, is imprinted with a seal. In the
preparation service before the Liturgy, the priest
cuts out a section of the seal and sets it aside;
it is called the "Lamb". The rest of the bread is
cut up and placed in a large basket, and blessed
by the priest.
During the eucharistic prayer, the Lamb is
consecrated to be the Body of Christ, and the
chalice of wine is consecrated as His Blood.
Here's the surprising part: the priest places the
"Lamb" in the chalice with the wine. When we
receive communion, we file up to the priest,
standing and opening our mouths wide while he
gives us a fragment of the wine-soaked bread from
a golden spoon. He also prays over us, calling us
by our first name or the saint-name which we chose
when we were baptized or chrismated (received into
the church by anointing with blessed oil).
As we file past the priest, we come to an altar
boy holding the basket of blessed bread. People
will take portions for themselves and for visitors
and non-Orthodox friends around them. If someone
hands you a piece of blessed bread, do not panic;
it is not the eucharistic Body. It is a sign of
fellowship.
Visitors are sometimes offended that they are not
allowed to receive communion. Orthodox believe
that receiving communion is broader than
me-and-Jesus; it acknowledges faith in historic
Orthodox doctrine, obedience to a particular
Orthodox bishop, and a commitment to a particular
Orthodox worshipping community. There's nothing
exclusive about this; everyone is invited to make
this commitment to the Orthodox Church. But the
Eucharist is the Church's treasure, and it is
reserved for those who have united themselves with
the Church. An analogy could be to reserving
marital relations until after the wedding.
We also handle the Eucharist with more gravity
than many denominations do, further explaining why
we guard it from common access. We believe it is
truly the Body and Blood of Christ. We ourselves
do not receive communion unless we are making
regular confession of our sins to a priest and are
at peace with other communicants. We fast from all
food and drink--yes, even a morning cup of
coffee--from midnight the night before communion.
This leads to the general topic of fasting. When
newcomers learn of the Orthodox practice, their
usual reaction is, "You must be kidding." We fast
from meat, fish, dairy products, wine and olive
oil nearly every Wednesday and Friday, and during
four other periods during the year, the longest
being Great Lent before Pascha (Easter).
Altogether this adds up to nearly half the year.
Here, as elsewhere, expect great variation. With
the counsel of their priest, people decide to what
extent they can keep these fasts, both physically
and spiritually--attempting too much rigor too
soon breeds frustration and defeat. Nobody's fast
is anyone else's business. As St. John Chrysostom
says in his beloved Paschal sermon, everyone is
welcomed to the feast whether they fasted or not:
"You sober and you heedless, honor the
day...Rejoice today, both you who have fasted and
you who have disregarded the fast."
The important point is that the fast is not rigid
rules that you break at grave risk, nor is it a
punishment for sin. Fasting is exercise to stretch
and strengthen us, medicine for our souls' health.
In consultation with your priest as your spiritual
doctor, you can arrive at a fasting schedule that
will stretch but not break you. Next year you may
be ready for more. In fact, as time goes by, and
as they experience the camaraderie of fasting
together with a loving community, most people
discover they start relishing the challenge.
7. Where's the
General Confession?
In our experience, we don't have any general sins;
they're all quite specific. There is no complete
confession-prayer in the Liturgy. Orthodox are
expected to be making regular, private confession
to their priest.
The role of the pastor is much more that of a
spiritual father than it is in other
denominations. He is not called by his first name
alone, but referred to as "Father Firstname." His
wife also holds a special role as parish mother,
and she gets a title too, though it varies from
one culture to another: either "Khouria" (Arabic),
or "Presbytera" (Greek), both of which mean
"priest's wife;" or "Matushka" (Russian), which
means "Mama."
Another
difference you may notice is in the Nicene Creed,
which may be said or sung, depending on the
parish. If we are saying that the Holy Spirit
proceeds from the Father, and you from force of
habit add, "and the Son," you will be alone. The "filioque"
was added to the Creed some six hundred years
after it was written, and we adhere to the
original. High-church visitors will also notice
that we don't bow or genuflect during the "and was
incarnate." Nor do we restrict our use of
"Alleluia" during Lent (when the sisters at one
Episcopal convent are referring to it as "the 'A'
word"); in fact, during Matins in Lent, the
Alleluias are more plentiful than ever.
8. Music, music,
music
About seventy-five percent of the service is
congregational singing. Traditionally, Orthodox
use no instruments, although some churches will
have organs. Usually a small choir leads the
people in a capella harmony, with the level of
congregational response varying from parish to
parish. The style of music varies as well, from
very Oriental-sounding solo chant in an Arabic
church to more Western-sounding four-part harmony
in a Russian church, with lots of variation in
between.
This constant singing is a little overwhelming at
first; it feels like getting on the first step of
an escalator and being carried along in a rush
until you step off ninety minutes later. It has
been fairly said that the liturgy is one
continuous song. What keeps this from being
exhausting is that it's pretty much the *same*
song every week. Relatively little changes from
Sunday to Sunday; the same prayers and hymns
appear in the same places, and before long you
know it by heart. Then you fall into the presence
of God in a way you never can when flipping from
prayer book to bulletin to hymnal.
9. Making editors
squirm
Is there a concise way to say something? Can extra
adjectives be deleted? Can the briskest, most
pointed prose be boiled down one more time to a
more refined level? Then it's not Orthodox
worship. If there's a longer way to say something,
the Orthodox will find it. In Orthodox worship,
more is always more, in every area including
prayer. When the priest or deacon intones, "Let us
complete our prayer to the Lord," expect to still
be standing there fifteen minutes later.
The original
liturgy lasted something over five hours; those
people must have been on fire for God. The Liturgy
of St. Basil edited this down to about two and a
half, and later (around 400 A.D.) the Liturgy of
St. John Chrysostom further reduced it to about
one and a half. Most Sundays we use the St. John
Chrysostom liturgy, although for some services
(e.g., Sundays in Lent, Christmas Eve) we use the
longer Liturgy of St. Basil.
10. Our Champion
Leader
A constant feature of Orthodox worship is
veneration of the Virgin Mary, the "champion
leader" of all Christians. We often address her as
"Theotokos," which means "Mother of God." In
providing the physical means for God to become
man, she made possible our salvation.
But though we honor her, as Scripture foretold
("All generations will call me blessed," Luke
1:48), this doesn't mean that we think she or any
of the other saints have magical powers or are
demi-gods. When we sing "Holy Theotokos, save us,"
we don't mean that she grants us eternal
salvation, but that we seek her prayers for our
protection and growth in faith. Just as we ask for
each other's prayers, we ask for the prayers of
Mary and other saints as well. They're not dead,
after all, just departed to the other side. Icons
surround us to remind us of all the saints who are
joining us invisibly in worship.
11. The three doors
Every Orthodox church will have an iconostasis
before its altar. "Iconostasis" means
"icon-stand", and it can be as simple as a large
image of Christ on the right and a corresponding
image of the Virgin and Child on the left. In a
more established church, the iconostasis may be a
literal wall, adorned with icons. Some of versions
shield the altar from view, except when the
central doors stand open.
The basic set-up of two large icons creates, if
you use your imagination, three doors. The central
one, in front of the altar itself, is called the
"Holy Doors" or "Royal Doors," because there the
King of Glory comes out to the congregation in the
Eucharist. Only the priest and deacons, who bear
the Eucharist, use the Holy Doors.
The openings on the other sides of the icons, if
there is a complete iconostasis, have doors with
icons of angels; they are termed the "Deacon's
Doors." Altar boys and others with business behind
the altar use these, although no one is to go
through any of the doors without an appropriate
reason. Altar service--priests, deacons, altar
boys--is restricted to males. Females are invited
to participate in every other area of church life.
Their contribution has been honored equally with
men's since the days of the martyrs; you can't
look at an Orthodox altar without seeing Mary and
other holy women. In most Orthodox churches, women
do everything else men do: lead congregational
singing, paint icons, teach classes, read the
epistle, and serve on the parish council.
12. Where does an
American fit in?
Flipping through the Yellow Pages in a large city
you might see a multiplicity of Orthodox churches:
Greek, Romanian, Carpatho-Russian, Antiochian,
Serbian, and on and on. Is Orthodoxy really so
tribal? Do these divisions represent theological
squabbles and schisms?
Not at all. All these Orthodox churches are one
church. The ethnic designation refers to what is
called the parish's "jurisdiction" and identifies
which bishops hold authority there. There are
about 6 million Orthodox in North America and 250
million in the world, making Orthodoxy the
second-largest Christian communion.
The astonishing
thing about this ethnic multiplicity is its
theological and moral unity. Orthodox throughout
the world hold unanimously to the fundamental
Christian doctrines taught by the Apostles and
handed down by their successors, the bishops,
throughout the centuries. They also hold to the
moral standards of the Apostles; abortion, and sex
outside heterosexual marriage, remain sins in
Orthodox eyes. One could attribute this unity to
historical accident. We would attribute it to the
Holy Spirit.
Why then the multiplicity of ethnic churches?
These national designations obviously represent
geographic realities. Since North America is also
a geographic unity, one day we will likewise have
a unified national church--an American Orthodox
Church. This was the original plan, but due to a
number of complicated historical factors, it
didn't happen that way. Instead, each ethnic group
of Orthodox immigrating to this country developed
its own church structure. This multiplication of
Orthodox jurisdictions is a temporary aberration
and much prayer and planning is going into
breaking through those unnecessary walls.
Currently the largest American jurisdictions are
the Greek Orthodox Archdiocese, The Orthodox
Church in America (Russian roots), and the
Antiochian Archdiocese (Arabic roots). The liturgy
is substantially the same in all, though there may
be variation in language used and type of music.
I wish it could be said that every local parish
eagerly welcomes newcomers, but some are still so
close to their immigrant experience that they are
mystified as to why outsiders would be interested.
Visiting several Orthodox parishes will help you
learn where you're most comfortable. You will
probably be looking for one that uses plenty of
English in its services. Many parishes with high
proportions of converts will have services
entirely in English.
Orthodoxy seems startlingly different at first,
but as the weeks go by it gets to be less so. It
will begin to feel more and more like home, and
will gradually draw you into your true home, the
Kingdom of God. I hope that your first visit to an
Orthodox church will be enjoyable, and that it
won't be your last.
© Frederica
Mathewes-Green
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