Orthodoxy, in the etymological sense of the word, means "right thinking," or, from the Slavic roots of a parallel word regarding religion, "the right way to glorify God." One can easily procure this information via a one-word Google search, "Orthodoxy," and a subsequent perusing of the Wikipedia page dedicated to this topic. Experiencing Orthodoxy is a different matter entirely.
We chose this past Sunday to alter our schedule again and attend St. George's Romanian Orthodox Church, not too far from our own house. Though we've heard the bells tolling every so often from the comfort of our living room, we hadn't ever ventured into an Orthodox church service and little-to-no expectation. One man had told me that they didn't speak English, but his information was quickly disproved.
A few people had already found seats by the time we'd arrived, but the sanctuary was mostly empty. The smells, sounds, and setting were not too dissimilar from the Anglican service we attended several weeks ago; candles glowed in the narthex, incense rose to the high ceilings, chanted, tonal prayers intermingling with the tolling of the Sunday morning bells all set the stage for timeless worship. Every aspect of the service, from the building itself, to the liturgy used, to the short spoken word from the priest, was static, emotionless, allowing the congregation to focus entirely on God.
Chanted liturgies contained over 200 Scriptural quotations, over 100 from both the Old and New Testaments. Prayers muttered by the priest were often echoed in Romanian. There was no order of service provided, and having had no prior knowledge of what was transpiring, Hannah and I were, in a word, clueless. Nonetheless, the aura of the room was nothing by worshipful. After the service, a couple approached us and invited us to the social hour afterwards, which we decided to attend, hoping to have some questions answered.
My wife is getting a second major in History, presently, and one of her courses last semester was Medieval Europe. Naturally, she studied Orthodoxy Christianity, alongside other factions of religion at the time, so she had more of a base knowledge from which to ask questions than I did. The gentlemen who was fielding our questions is, ironically enough, a Theological Studies student in the graduate program at Malone University, and a friend-of-a-friend who works in local church-planting. It was enlightening to attain a glimpse of the Orthodox faith from the man's perspective, as he is obviously able to see things from a more objective, unbiased point of view.
The essence of an Orthodox service is not at all about "what I got out of it," as we hear so often from the pervasive American, self-absorbed mindset. Instead, the services are conducted in such a way so as to strip away any element of human origin and allow one to entirely focus on Holy God. One gentleman, after the service, mentioned how easy it makes service planning, to know that they're going to do things, this week, the same way the Orthodox church has done them, this week of the year, for the last fifteen hundred years. The liturgy of the Orthodox church follows the same liturgical calendar, repeating year, after year, after year. In fact, like I alluded to before, every aspect of worship, from the architecture—often reflective of the Trinity (three steps, three doors, etc.)—to the words spoken and chanted are seeded so deeply in centuries of faith and tradition, that their origins are not even necessarily known to many.
This antiquity is often looked down upon by the Evangelical community for one reason or another. Granted, a 'seeker' is more apt to enjoy the coffee and the welcome and the trendy music of many churches in the area than they are the tranquility of a 15th century worship setting. But again, in the scope of the Body of Christ, and in trying to focus on what we have in common with one another, I would remind you all, as I was reminded by Sunday's liturgy, that these traditions exist for a reason. They've 'worked,' so to speak, for thousands of years. Let us not deny the value of quietness, stillness, and what might sometimes be a 'going through the motions' of liturgical tradition. These motions remind us that it's not about us. They instill in us a habit of acknowledging the Divine, and reiterate to us that our preferences and rights are naught in the sight of Holy God. This is the "right way" of thinking, and though the church has evolved in hundreds of way since the establishment of Orthodoxy, their practices will never cease to speak to the constancy and immutability of our God and to the timeless nature of our need for more of Him.
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