Come for the Incense, Stay for the Meal

Orthodoxy as a cure for modernity

Metropolitan Jonah blessing the congregants on Holy Saturday morning. (photo credit: Tony Talbert)

Late on Saturday night this past weekend, the lights turned low in the church, the bells of the censer shook out their familiar call, the choir sang softly the haunting words that herald the coming of the greatest event in human history, and then we processed outside the church to the following hymn:

Thy resurrection O Christ our Savior, The Angels in heaven sing. Enable us on earth to glorify thee in purity of heart.

The singing and chanting began at 11:30 pm. At 2:30 am we finally received communion after many rounds of shouting “Christ is Risen” in various languages and singing many different versions of the Paschal hymn “Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death and upon those in the tombs bestowing life!” For three hours in the middle of the night we stood, chanted, sang, and praised God for the incredible gift of His resurrection from the dead and his destruction of Hades and Death.

As I sang and took in all that was happening this night, my fourth Pascha, I was struck with the realization that we had all been standing in services for approximately 16 hours this whole week, and I had not even attended every available service. Most of us had attended several (if not all) of the Holy Week services beginning with Monday and ending with the longest service of the year on Holy Saturday morning when there are 15 scripture readings that take place, as well as baptisms and the Divine Liturgy. Then we all returned that night to stand vigil from 11:30pm into the wee hours of Easter morning. Our beloved clergy had been doing the services non-stop all week, commemorating each event of the week beginning with Palm Sunday and leading up to the Crucifixion and Resurrection. They were beyond exhausted. Nevertheless, the general consensus was that we would not have missed this for anything, severe illness or emergency notwithstanding. All week long during Holy Week I would periodically feel a thrill rise up in my heart that resembled, but far exceeded the excitement I would feel as a child for Christmas morning. As a child the great thrill of Christmas was opening presents, but now for Pascha—the thrill is something different. It’s palpable. It’s the concrete realization that death is no more and we are truly free, and there is a moment coming in which we will all shout together “Christ is Risen! Truly He is Risen!” The fasting ends, the bridegroom, the King of Glory, is restored to his Bride, the gates of hell are thrown open, and a spiritual celebration unlike any other begins.

As I looked over the closely packed crowd of people standing together, somehow managing not to set themselves or their neighbors on fire while holding candles for about 3 hours in the middle of the night, no one was leaving. All eyes were fixed on the priests, all ears were listening to the proclamations, the Paschal Homily of St. John Chrysostom, and the prayers. The smell of incense was heavy in the air. There was no sense of hurry, or of time, or of anxiety for the next thing. There was a deep sense of peace in the atmosphere of that little chapel. A strange thought entered my mind which said, “This is the cure for the modern problem.”

It’s no secret that we in the modern age have a collective case of ADHD. It is a disorder not only of children who cannot focus and are drugged for better or worse into a certain standard of behavior, but of an entire society which demands speed, multi-tasking, and quick changes of attention on a scale previously unknown to the human race. We are an impulsive, self-indulgent society and we see little reason to sit still and be quiet or contemplate for any length of time. There has to be a cure for that sickness. In Orthodoxy, I believe we hold the cure for body and spirit, which this collective mania that we are experiencing demands. We have the blessing of Lent, which requires a level of focus to sustain a kind of self-discipline and abstinence that society lacks. It needs preparation, participation, and perseverance. It is the model for the Christian life as a whole, and great swaths of the Christian traditions in the West have all but eliminated it. The Lenten services and prayers are long. Fasting is not for the faint of heart, and there has to be a commitment to pressing in to the discomfort of Lent in order to reap its benefits. When we are fasting as a community we encourage each other along the way, as we are all to some degree experiencing similar struggles. Catechumens (those being instructed in the faith), in order to be received have to show up in person, step in the water, be immersed and anointed in the water and oil, without exception. Then comes the collective anticipation of the end of the suffering, the exhilaration of the Great Feast, and the fellowship and celebration that results. Young and old stay awake as long as possible, even to the rising of the sun, only to catch a few hours of sleep and return later in the afternoon for Agape Vespers and festal potluck / barbecue. This year our church opened a new outdoor pavilion for fellowship and gathering, and we broke it in with a fun trad session with banjos, guitars, mandolin and concertina and just jammed for a while after our delicious feast of meat and wine and cheese and all the things we had missed eating for the past 7 weeks.

What is demanded by the Orthodox life is the opposite of what this culture demands. Instant gratification is not an option. In Orthodoxy we wait for everything. Mystery unfolds slowly, thoroughly, and with labor that requires heavy “lifts” both of soul and body. It is a wholistic faith. We require communal participation in these lifts and in the liturgies, and it has never not been this way.

Over and over again we hear the clarion call from those who understand this collective problem of our society and the repeated message is that we must seek out and engage in authentic communities with in-person relationships. I cannot speak to all Orthodox communities, but in our parish, it is rare to see someone using their cell phone, or “checking out” during fellowship time. Because of the combination of a worship service that is technology-free (except for one cell phone set up to video the sermon) and a meal prepared for and shared with people who have become our close friends, children running and playing together on the church grounds, folks sitting outside and enjoying playing instruments together, or just sitting around talking, having a beer, and swatting bugs—the Church has become a respite from the blue glow of the modern age. Again, I cannot speak to all parishes, but the pervasive hunger for authentic worship and authentic community should mean that Orthodox Churches are rich in this regard.

Today, as I complete this writing near the end of Bright Week, I am exhausted. It is as if all of Lent and Holy Week and Pascha, and celebration have caught up with me and I cannot eat another bite of Pascha Cheese, but it is a healthy, honest exhaustion that comes from in person, analog celebration that followed 7 weeks of spiritual disciplines. I am stronger for it. It is certainly nothing a bath and prayers and a good sleep won’t cure, and I will happily return to service on Sunday morning, so as not to miss hearing “Christ is Risen! Truly He is Risen” as much as I can until Pentecost. If you are longing for a more analog life—authentic worship, authentic people, and an encounter with the Church that Christ established and which has persisted for 2000 years, then please, visit an Orthodox church in your area. Go with an open heart and an inquiring mind, and you will not be disappointed.

Christ is Risen!