The Orthodox culture shock had been manageable so far. A decade ago my husband and I finally put down our introductory books on Eastern Christianity and approached the living, parish reality of Orthodoxy during something called the Triodion period before Great Lent. Because we had prepared ourselves, the kissing of icons didn’t shock us. The chanted hymns werenât exactly hummable, but a few random melodies stuck in my mind (“Through the prayersâŚ
A longtime parishioner, dreading the rigors of Great Lent, approached his priest with a question. âFather, is there anything special I can do to deepen my spiritual life this season?\"âYes,â the priest replied. âPrayer, fasting, and almsgiving.ââEvery year itâs the same thing,â the man complained. âIsnât there something different I can do?â
Our two younger children sat alone, stone-faced, in a forest of pews while the other parishioners gathered at the front of the church. We were lining up for the final portion of Forgiveness Vespers, the evening service on Cheesefare Sunday (as in, “Farewell to dairy products!”) that ushers the Orthodox faithful into the season of Great Lent. With a little bit of parental bribery (dinner at Red Robin), the kids, whoâŚ
