Leaving the Church of Madison Avenue

...and that day about three thousand souls were added to them. (Acts 2:41)

Photo by Andriy Tod on Unsplash

I have always been someone who craved simplicity in my faith and worship practices. I loved the liturgy in the Anglican church for its clarity and simplicity. I love simple, acoustic music and am not into huge congregations with stadium seating and lots of flashy stage presence. I need church to be a refuge from the world, not to resemble it. I desire proximity and community in my house of worship, and when we first attended our previous church, that was what drew us in, but as the church grew larger, this changed.

That church outgrew its chapel-sized building and fostered visions of being a mega-church, visible from the interstate. We owned property, and had to have new lodging. The intention was to build in phases and grow into it. Even so, it came with a huge mortgage that grew increasingly difficult to fund. The new building was full of technological marvels—we could project things onto big screens if everything were cued up properly, we had an advanced sound system that was smarter than the sound team, the priests wore remote mics with batteries that died frequently, and we could pipe music and sermons throughout the entire building. All of this technology required many volunteer hands to run and at least two staff members, one full-time and one part-time to operate it properly. As a member of the music team, I remember being dressed down by the bishop because the sound balance was way off at an important service. Even though I was not the person who could do anything about it, I was the nearest target to receive the overflow of his frustration. He expressed that the sound quality was critical to attracting and retaining visitors and inquirers, and that if something wasn’t done, people would leave.

Along with all the technology there was heavy emphasis on the mission statement—banners that had the catchy mission statement of the church emblazoned on them. I understand in theory why a church would do this—it is a unifying piece that should drive all the people to work together for a common goal. Along with the posted mottos there was the yearly Vacation Bible School drive. The annual VBS music, props and posters of the year took over the general consciousness of the church beginning in February when they started advertising, to the weekly reminders to make sure we donated supplies and money to the cause, spent time getting props and snack kits ready, volunteered the week of…you see the point.

We live in a world that is saturated with marketing and churches are no different. Modern humans cannot escape the noise of attention-grabbing entities reaching for them from every direction, and churches, which have come to resemble the modern culture in every way, is not immune to the struggle. There are even consultants that churches can hire to help them develop their “brand identity” and bring in members. They assist with fund raising and Bible study tie-ins for building fund drives. They work to massage the wallets of the members which I have heard referred to as “giving units” to help them pledge more in faith that God will provide the increase. In our time in the new wonder-building, the church shrank in attendance and struggled to meet its annual budget goals. I am sure this church is not alone in its struggles.

The Church, as it was founded in Acts, was driven by the presence and power of the Holy Spirit. The great miracle of the apostolic Church was that the disciples were together in one place praying, the Holy Spirit descended, and by His work through them thousands were added to their number!

Could it be that meetings and mission statements, fund raising and marketing, are massive distractions for God’s people who are intended for the business of the Kingdom? Is it supposed to resemble a corporate board room?

If you remember, I’ve attended a church or two. When all is said and done, prior to Orthodoxy there have been total of 12 distinct denominations and one para-church organization that I have either held full membership in or attended regularly for a minimum of 6 months to two years due to military moves, and as many as 15 years. Therefore, at this point of my life, it was not going to be a marketing ploy, the technology of the building, or artsy banners that was going to convince me to join a church. I had reached a point where I needed something more convincing than branding.

When I first encountered The Orthodox Church, I discovered a beautiful reality—The “branding and marketing” of Orthodoxy is what began at Pentecost, beginning with the sound of a rushing wind. I first visited the little Orthodox church that became our home one evening for the vesperal liturgy. I was nervous and wide-eyed, but no one came up to me—they were focused on their prayers. After the service, no one tried to get me “plugged in.” No one suggested I join a small group, or peruse the different ministries to see where I could fit into the congregation. On the contrary, I came in, watched what was going on, and asked some questions. Then I came back and did the same thing, and each week that I came I felt increasingly comfortable and I wanted more. My husband’s experience was similar. We began attending the catechism class each week and as we asked questions, our pastor patiently answered them, but exhorted us, “Just come to church every week. The answers are in the liturgy,” and he was right. There were no programs or special drives to bring people in. They just did what they do every single week, and we observed and listened. The appeal was in the weekly glorification and worship of Christ our God through the Divine Liturgy.

The marketing was the distinct lack of electronic devices and the quiet reverence that washed over me as I walked into the nave of the church. Surrounded by the icons representing Christ, His mother, St. John the Forerunner, St. Nicholas, and many other Saints, there was a visual feast to contemplate. People stood quietly, praying along with the chanter who was reading poetic prayers in a singing tone. They answered with a melodious “Lord, have mercy” again and again. Within minutes I was completely absorbed in the sounds and prayers that were surrounding me. No one was checking their phones. There were no microphones, no projectors, no media team, no instruments but human voices of the choir and those in attendance. The reverence was profound and sincere.

The marketing was the icons—Let’s be honest—many Protestants find icons troubling and have serious questions about their place in the church. The bowing and kissing seemed so strange. In my ignorance I would have been inclined to call it a form of idolatry. Even so, someone kindly took me around the church perimeter and told me who each saint was or what the icon was illustrating. She explained them as if she were showing me photos of her family. These Saints, the “great cloud of witnesses” of church fathers and mothers who have gone before, have achieved a level of holiness that most can’t even imagine, performed miracles, or given their lives as martyrs, giving all they had for Christ. They didn’t need banners and slogans to tell them to do it. They did it because they loved Christ, his Church, and the world, just as he commanded. Now, they are the banners that call us to sanctified action in the world for Christ.

The marketing was the incense. As soon as I entered the door I was greeted with a fragrance that is different than any place else. As the vesperal prayers began, a man in beautiful vestments came out swinging a censer in the direction of all the icons and bowing to the people. The smell was heavenly, and filled the room with a light smoke and beautiful fragrance. That night when I went home I could still smell it. Since that time I’ve joked with friends that I should make a tee-shirt that says, “I’m in it for the incense,” because that is how much I love—even need—this part of the service. It centers me, delights my heart, and helps me to prepare for worship. It reminds me that my prayers are rising to God as a fragrant offering, and incense is a powerful physical reminder of this.

The marketing was the candles that were offered, illuminating the icons, providing a warm and welcoming light. I remembered watching people light candles in the Catholic church as a very young child and having an innate sense of why this was appropriate. I had always wished we had such things, but there was never the opportunity in Protestant churches, and this longing of my heart was finally going to be rewarded.

The marketing was the Divine Liturgy in which more passages of scripture were read or embedded in the prayers than in any protestant service I had ever attended, and prayers were prayed for every possible human need. In his book The Orthodox Church, Timothy Ware reports that in the Divine Liturgy, the weekly text contains 98 quotations from the Old Testament and 114 from the New.¹ Nothing was shortened for the sake of time. It was long, and my feet and back hurt, but it was worth standing for. Nowadays, the service does not feel as long and my feet no longer hurt. Sometimes it seems to be too quickly finished.

The marketing was the prayers prayed for the catechumens* and the tender words that were spoken over them and for them while the baptized faithful prayed “Lord, have mercy” for them. Within the liturgy no human need is overlooked—all matters are covered in prayers “again and again,” but the intercession for those who were being prepared for baptism was particularly touching.

The marketing was the children and their parents. Children stood, or sat on the floor, or on the side pews. They venerated the icons like their parents, made the sign of the cross, received communion, and kissed the chalice, just like the adults. No baptized child was refused, but all—from the tiniest infant on up—participated fully in the Divine Liturgy. Children are expected to participate. If they get fussy or wiggly, parents just usher them out for a while, but there is not a “holding bay” for the children with nursery workers who give up the church service so that others won’t be distracted.

The marketing was the warm welcome and insistence that we stay after service for a fellowship hour. We joined in for the pot-luck meal even though we hadn’t brought anything. A more welcoming group of people could not be found anywhere.**

In Orthodoxy what drew me was the ancient beauty, the authenticity, and the worship that has continued since the giving of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. At the beginning of every episode of one of my favorite podcasts, Our Life in Christ, the hosts state:

“The Orthodox Church is evangelical, but not Protestant. It is orthodox, but not Jewish. It is catholic, but not Roman. It isn’t non-denominational – it is pre-denominational. It has believed, taught, preserved, defended and died for the Faith of the Apostles since the Day of Pentecost 2000 years ago.”²

This is marketing I can support.

*Students who have committed to being prepared for baptism are made catechumens through a series of prayers and rituals. The period of time spent as a catechumen can last up to a year or more. During that time they do not receive communion with the baptized.

**Most Orthodox churches have at minimum a coffee and fellowship time with light snacks after the service of Divine Liturgy, due to the fact that they observe a strict fast the night and morning prior to receiving the communion, and some churches have meals together after Liturgy. This is the case at our church.

1. Timothy Ware, The Orthodox Church. Penguin Random House, UK, 2015, pg. 195

2. Podcast, Our Life in Christ. https://ourlifeinchrist.com/ . This podcast can also be accessed on Apple podcasts or from Ancient Faith Radio.