Sunday, February 28, 2010

An Unorthadox, Orthodox, Sunday - Part 1


Alright, my only excuse for having not blogged in a month is that we've moved. Again. I know. That, and I've been working on a new blog that better houses all my random thoughts, so stay tuned for that!

Anyway, today Aaron, Gwen and I visited Saint Andrew, an Orthodox church in Riverside. We had been talking about visiting a local church since our move, and yesterday Aaron suggested that we visit an Orthodox one. At first I didn't want to. It had been a long week for me and I wanted to take communion which has been a major source of sustainment and refreshment for me since attending Christ Church, and not being a member of an Orthodox church would exclude me from that. I also miss my friends easily, so that was two strikes against the idea of going anywhere else. To top it off, while I consider Orthodox Christians my brothers and sisters in Christ, I'm not comfortable with some of their practices, like praying to the saints who have passed on.

And while that would be three strikes out, it was because of the last reason that I decided to go. After all, I reasoned, it really wouldn't be fair for me to form a critical opinion about a branch of Christianity whom I still regard as, well, a branch of Christianity, without seeing who they are and what they do. To experience first-hand and not word-of-mouth. And I was curious about their service, having heard so many wonderful things about it.

I admit that I had a few preconceived notions about the service. Namely, that it would be dark, as in very dimly lit, and that I wouldn't be able to understand a lot of the liturgy. I almost felt like we were going on a field trip rather than to a worship service, except without the camera and fanny pack.

Upon arrival, I felt a little out of place in my jeans, despite the apparent cuteness of my blouse and shoes. That, and I didn't have a head covering like many of the women. Aaron's friend who will soon be chrismated into Orthodoxy told us that it was a convert church and that converts tend to be more gung-ho about legalism; head coverings being one of the manifestations of that. I figured I had a nice conservative hair-do (because you know how wild my hair usually looks) so I supposed that would have to suffice.

As we made our way to the entrance of the church, we met Father Josiah's mother, Lee I think her name was. What a sweet lady! She was very glad to welcome us, though we probably had the word "gringo" or whatever the Orthodox equivalent would be, written across our foreheads. Well, mostly just me, since Aaron's been to Orthodox services before. We entered into probably what could be best described as a house for the senses. I earnestly wanted to be open-minded and acknowledge and understand, if not appreciate, every aspect of the service, but my senses were like a deer caught in the headlights, mainly I think because it was an environment that I had never experienced before, and the introvert in me--we'll call her Mrs. Wimble--takes charge, allowing me to process only one sense at a time. So here is the approximate order of which they filed neatly into my brain:

Smell. The clean, earthy smell of incense. Which reminded me of home, because it's the same kind that Aaron burns in our house.

Sight. Sight was a big sense and had to eek into my brain sideways, but at first I think I noticed the family atmosphere. Which reminded me of my church. Lots of babies and children, along with all generations of family. That, and most people stood, for a great portion of the liturgy, other than when the preaching took place. I assumed they stood out of reverence, and also because there probably wouldn't be enough room if everyone sat. Or maybe there weren't enough chairs. Who knows? Well, they probably know, just not me--the Gringo.

Then I saw the tall, very thin creamy lit candles clustered around the icons at the entrance of the church with people kissing the icons and bowing to them. I kinda felt weird seeing them do that. I felt less weird when I toured cathedrals in France and saw Catholics pray to icons, probably because I wore a camera and a fanny pack. Here it was different, I think because I was trying to be a participant in the worship service, and I felt kind of like I did when ladies at the church I attended growing up would do an interpretive dance as a part of the service-- I just couldn't quite look at them, out of feeling a mixture of distraction and embarrassment. What can I say? People just don't kiss icons, or do interpretive dance, at my church.

There were great golden chandeliers hanging overhead. Lots of gold and warm hues in large paintings and icons on every wall. And dimly lit, though not as dim as I imagined it would be, thanks to two circular windows on either side of a large icon of Mother Mary (Theotokos, Mother of God, as the Orthodox refer to her as) up on the front wall of the church.

Sound. We entered to the sound of what's called "Divine Liturgy", that is, the reading of Scripture, saints' writings, and other elements that I'm probably not aware of, via chanting and a cappella choral singing, which was actually quite beautiful in its pentatonic tones. There were the Troparions (hymns) to Christ, to saints, and to the Theotokos. I couldn't make out some of what was being sung, probably because I was on sensory overload, though I could understand when they praised the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, upon which many of the worshipers would cross themselves and sweep their hand low to the ground at some points. I don't have anything against crossing oneself, and I probably would have joined in if I knew when to do it. That, and if I knew if their hands were going from left to right or right to left, because the Roman Catholics and Lutherans care about those details, I assume the Orthodox church does, too.

Touch. Upon the beginning of the sermon, everyone sat down, like on the floor. The cold, hard granite floor. Now I'm sure Orthodox members have a way more interesting experience of this sense what with being able to take communion, touch icons, and whatnot, but I did touch the floor, so that's something. Anyway, A short sermon was preached about living a life of spiritual health, and to look to the icons and what they represent, that is, a window to heaven, where light emanates from the faces of the saints (which is why shadows are never depicted on icons, interestingly).

At that point my Orthodox worship service experience rather abruptly ended when one of the gals standing next to us (coincidentally, one of Aaron's old friends from Master's College) informed us there was an Orthodox class for Catechumens, and we were free to go to that.

And here I think I'll end my entry for the night. Part two will no doubt bring out the reformed in me--we'll call her Mrs. Guffaruff. Though we had to leave early for the sake of Gwen, our little trooper who could troop no more, I did noticed one of the ladies in the class had a plate full of cookies for refreshments after the service. Those I could almost taste. Almost.