What it's like, part II

It's kinda like country life versus city life. Or possibly European versus American. Take whichever one you relate to most.

My point is that virtually every other church on the planet that I have had any part of, seems, for want of a better word, "busy". It was certainly at it's worst when Erik was on staff, but I'm speaking in more general terms here. For instance, on any given Sunday you arrive and there is typically a sort of bustling about the place as folks are greeting one another, depositing children to their appropriate locations, settling into their preferred location in the sanctuary, gathering needed information in lobbies, and nowadays even having their coffee and pastry. People to see, places to go, things to do. Like a busy dowtown street. (Please don't take this to mean that I have anything against greeters, childcare, or even pastries, although I do resent coffee that is offered with no options for us tea drinkers.)

On the other hand, when I walk into St. Nicholas on Sundays, I walk into rest. I walk into prayer and adoration. I see it, I hear it, I even smell it. The service starts with Matins, and while I will admit that my family does not make it early enough for that part, I'm pretty sure that there is minimal socializing happening. (I do know that is what it's like at Vespers.) Even prior to the beginning of the prayers, the priest is attending to rituals in preparation for it, so typically there is always an air of reverence in the place. There is no break between the end of Matins and the beginning of the Divine Liturgy. It is all just one seamless event. The thing about Orthodoxy though, is that your level of participation is largely open. The general standard is to stand the entire time, but there are some chairs for those who can't. Light a candle if and when you want. Kiss an icon. Make the sign of the cross. While there is an order to the service, there are also many aspects that are kind of "at your leisure" and as a matter of your personal worship experience. But throughout, you are also a part of the larger event that is happening.

My parents still live on the farm where I grew up in the Arkansas Ozarks. Whenever I wake up there, I get this wonderful sense of peace. The place is situated at "the head of a holler" which in everyday English, means it sits at one end of a long valley. When you sit on the porch swing, the peacefulness of it just surrounds you, engaging all of your senses. You breathe it in deep and at the same time recognize the bigness of all that you see. There are no deadlines when you live out there. It's not that there isn't work to be done, but it's just on a completely different timeline. As my Mom and Dad used to say, "ain't nobody waitin' on us". You can take the time to take it in. And that's kind of how liturgy feels for me. It's very deliberate, but not in an effort to take care of business, but more like an effort to be present both here and now as well as there and then.

I don't think I will ever find the perfect analogy to describe it, but for now, this is the best I can do. Hope it makes at least a little sense.