Our liturgical journey in the Orthodox Faith is much like a trek up Grays and Torreys Peaks. Hikers who hope to scale all of the \"fourteeners\" (mountains that are at least 14,000 feet above sea level) in the Rocky Mountains often begin here, because these two Colorado peaks are connected by a saddle of land. Torreys Peak is an integral part of this hike, but it is not the highest point. Grays is the true summit.Just as Torreys is not the high point of this hike, the Bibleâits reading and proclamationâis not the central point of the Divine Liturgy. We prepare ourselves for the reading of the scriptures, and those scriptures serve as preparation for the journey to the pinnacleâreceiving Christâs Body and Blood in the bread and wine of the Eucharist.
The midnight Pascha service ends, and the joyful but tired parishioners break out platters and crockpots for a parish feast featuring meats, cheeses, wines, homemade beers, and perhaps a bit of traditional dancing to bouzouki music in Greek parishes. We arrive home, exhausted, at 3 a.m. and collapse into bed.Christ is risen! Christos anesti! Christos voskrese! al-Masih qam!Now what?
Christ is risen! Truly He is risen! As we exchange this joyous greeting through Pentecost, celebrating Jesus’ triumph over death, let’s take a fresh look at the icon of the Resurrection. This beloved icon, also known as âChristâs Descent into Hadesâ or âAnastasis,â is a wonderful example of âtheology in colorâ because of the depth of instruction it contains. As writer Jeremiah explains in his blog Orthodox Road: Rediscovering the BeautyâŠ
Great and Holy Week has begun. During these seven days we attend services as we are able, offering back in worship and love a small portion of Godâs bountiful gifts to us. From Lazarus Saturday (the day before Palm Sunday) through the Resurrectional Canon and Divine Liturgy at midnight on Pascha, the Church provides seventeen services to attendâat least two per day.
Spring arrives late at mile-high altitude in metro Denver. I notice its earliest stirrings not with my eyes, which see only bare limbs, brown grass, and frozen mud, or on my skin, which is still swathed in sweaters and jackets. My ears hear the first signal in the reappearance of birdsong in March, or even in late February. The finches, sparrows, and chickadees, tucked away in the tops of the trees,âŠ
Great Lent has begun. (Cue the scary violins from Psycho.)I tend to view the Mother of All Fasts with both anticipation and dread: Anticipation of the sweetness of walking this journey with my brothers and sisters in Christ, and Dread because⊠Well, dang, Lent just goes on and on.
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 prayersâŠ
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, whoâŠ
In the previous post in this series, we delved into the first part of the Divine Liturgy, the Liturgy of the Word. We examined the Doxology and the Great Litany, where we give âglory unto God, who gives the lightâ and join the deacon in prayers that encompass the whole world. Next, the Church teaches us her liturgical theology in a musical section that is full of textual richness and depth. TheâŠ
For newcomers exploring the Orthodox Faith, the Divine Liturgy can seem long, meandering, long, repetitive, and long. It can also feel this way for those who have been born into the Church. But if we understand the liturgy as a journey, a pilgrimage with a specific route and a joyful destination, we can follow the roadmap with intentionality, observing the changing seasons on our way to communion with Christ in the KingdomâŠ
[This is the first in a series exploring worship, especially the Divine Liturgy. The posts are designed to increase understanding and, yes, joy in the experience of Orthodox worship. The series is likely to be sporadic and much-interrupted with other topics, because the ecclesiastical calendar waits for no blogger. â LH] Sunday morning in an Orthodox parish can be a confusing experience of culture shock for newcomers. Even those who have doneâŠ
