In these church visits I often
practice the mental exercise of imagining what the experience of worship would
be like for someone who was attending church for the first time. Would a
visitor know where to go, what to say, what to do? There was no need for this
to be merely an exercise last Sunday. Neither Mindy nor I had never been to an
Orthodox church, and we had no idea where to go or what to do. And we weren't
provided with many clues.
In the back of the church there were
rows of three chairs on each side and in the front of the church there were
scattered chairs by the walls. I counted a couple dozen chairs, and when we
arrived, there were already more people than that. (People continued to arrive
up through the second ringing of chimes, about halfway through the service.) So the question in my mind was,
"Do we sit or stand?"
Sitting is deeply ingrained in my
Protestant tradition. Posterior rest is my native worship language. Sure, I'll
tolerate those enthusiastic song leaders who want everyone up for the next
chorus. And I'll stand when pastors ask us to stand for the Gospel reading
(though the Old Testament and the Epistles are just as much God's Word as the
Gospels so I find it puzzling why the Gospels are singled out in this way). But
my knees are not used to being straight for a sermon, let alone announcements.
It became quickly apparent that we would be standing because those chairs were
there for the sick, the elderly, children and wimps.
There was a screen with doors in
front of the church that hid the priests, clergy and assistants along with the
Scripture and Host. It reminded me of the Holy of Holies found in the
Tabernacle and Temple, separating God from His people. That wall was torn apart
when Jesus was crucified. People came in and out of the doors at various times,
and the center door was sometimes left open so the congregation could see the
priests at work around the altar. When the center door was closed, there was a
curtain in it that was sometimes open and sometimes drawn.
The Priest chanted prayers,
requesting God's blessing on the home country and this country, the armed
forces and travelers, the clergy and lay people among many others with the
choir responding, "Let us praise the Lord." In other prayers, the choir responded with
"Let us pray to the Lord" or "Grant this, oh Lord." The
choir, above us in the balcony, led to inevitable comparisons to angel choirs.
There was no instrumental accompaniment to any of the singing or the chanting.
I had assumed a majority of the service
was spoken, chanted, sung in Russian but I learned later that most of the
liturgy was in Church Slavonic, which is used in the conservative Orthodox
churches much as Latin used to be used in Roman Catholic churches. Some of the
songs were in Slavonic, and others in English and still others in Russian. I
had a hard time telling which was which. Sometimes when the singing was in
English it took me a while to figure it out. There were certainly were no
hymnals, song sheets or lyrics projected on screens to follow along. The
singing was all a cappella; there were no musical instruments besides bells and
chimes.
When I saw a gentleman reaching for
his wallet, I knew the offering was about to be taken (there was no
announcement of an offering, at least not in English). I also saw a woman
getting change for the offering from one of the men selling candles. Sadly, my
thought was, "I thought the moneychangers had been driven from the
temple?"**
Children were the first to line up
take the Lord's Supper, a mixture of water and wine spooned out by the priest.
To the side there were pieces of bread and cups of watered wine that seemed to
be available on a self-serve basis. It was apparent by the caution taken with
the elements that the church believes in the doctrine of transubstantiation
(that the bread and wine literally become the Body and Blood of Christ).
I can see why Russian speakers would be
attracted to come to this church (conversation after the worship service ended
seemed to be equally in Russian and in English) and the affection that the
congregants had for one another was good to see. The beauty of the art, music
and ritual could be quite inspiring. I wonder though, whether a visitor would
feel welcome to return. They would, of course, feel welcome if they met George.
Statistics:
Service Length: 1 hour 45 minutes
Sermon Length: 15 minutes
(just over half in Russian, the rest of the time in English)
Visitor Treatment: politely ignored
(except by George and two women. One let Mindy know it was okay if she wanted
to sit down, the other was friendly as she served chicken wings)
Our Rough Count: 100
Probable Ushers' Count: 120
Snacks: pizza, chicken wings,
salad, cookies and other sweets, coffee, tea, juice, water, wine
Musicians: about a dozen
singers in the balcony; eight women and four men
Songs: the congregation
seemed to sing along with two songs, and most of the service was sung or
chanted.
Miles to place: 10
Total California Miles: 10,816
*This is the saint mentioned in the
sermon: Panteleimon
**We're not sure, but buying candles
at that counter in the back might also be considered an offering. And there
were two baskets passed at the same time, and people seemed to put something
into each of them. One basket had a label in Russian.
-- Dean
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