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 continuosflow, 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 acknowledgesfaith 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 camaraderieof 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.