Whoa. Why didn't anyone warn me that exotic orthodox churches are nothing like Catholic churches?
First, I almost walked into the wrong building. There is a Korean Baptist Church within a stone's throw of St. George Russian Orthodox. Speaking of which, who knew there was a Korean Baptist Church in Cincinnati?
When I finally found the correct building, I was shocked to realize the room was small and the congregation was smaller. I expected a huge, old building with lots of people. I was so surprised that I almost turned around and left. I normally have a pretty good idea what I'm walking into, but not this week.
After a brief hesitation, I decided to stay.
The room was overwhelming. It was small, but filled with pictures of Jesus, Mary, and other Biblical characters. There were candles everywhere, and the front of the room had an altar with a fake wall that separated the congregation from a back room. That back room is where the “priest” hung out most of the service, chanting and performing rituals. His back was to us a majority of the time. There were three doors that led to the back room, but the doors were almost always closed.
Everyone was standing except for an old guy sitting on a bench. I joined him. The men stood on the right side of the room, and the women stood on the left. By the end of the service, there were approximately thirty-five women, twenty-five men, and ten children. Almost every woman (and girl) had her head covered.
There were four women singing. They were positioned in the back right corner of the room. They sang throughout the service. In fact, they sang everything. They sang scripture. They sang songs. They sang introductions. I was afraid to say hello to anyone without checking my pitch first. Literally, nothing was said without it being sung.
The songs were actually quite beautiful. Very similar to the “chanting” I heard during Compline in Savannah.
One thing I learned: Russian Orthodox folks love making the sign of the cross. I am not exaggerating. In eighty minutes, each person averaged well over a hundred. It was wild. And they added a new twist … bending over and touching the ground after making the sign. No idea why.
Up front, there were separate shrines dedicated to Jesus and Mary. People lit candles and placed them near their pictures (while making the sign of the cross a dozen times). They also kissed the pictures, which of course, is a great way to spread the Swine Flu.
The priest kissed the Bible after his scripture reading. And what a Bible it was. Large and fancy with gold trim. He read the verses in Russian and English, singing both.
At one point, I thought we were going to take communion. The priest came out front with two chalices, but then took them both behind the altar, closed the door, and even closed a curtain so we couldn’t see anything. He chanted for a long time while the “choir” sang more songs.
I was fascinated with the old man sitting next to me. He had a prayer book filled with his personal notes and pictures. He pulled out a picture of a saint and kissed it, then prayed for a while. The book looked worn, and I wondered if he’d been carrying it around with him for fifty years. There is something pretty cool about religious traditions when people are really passionate about the rituals instead of just checking them off of a list.
Unfortunately, the room was so small, it was so crowded, there were so many candles, it got so hot, and so much incense was burned, that I could barely breathe after eighty minutes. I was sweating, my head hurt, and I felt trapped. I know faith isn’t always about being comfortable, but Sunday was rough. Near the end of the service, I had to step out of the room to get some fresh air. Once I noticed things were winding down, I left.
This had to be the most ritualistic service of them all. It wasn’t bad, but unless you understand the rituals, it’s sort of pointless. I can’t imagine someone could walk in off the street and feel comfortable. Rituals may mean a lot to the congregation, but they mean very little to guests (at least at first). If people experience God in profound ways by lighting candles, singing Bible verses, and making the sign of the cross five hundred times, that’s great. It just doesn’t do much for me. Especially when it’s eighty minutes of rituals. Maybe mix in a message somewhere along the way.
There was a lot to soak up at St. George. I’m not sure I had any time to just sit back and experience God. After a few stressful weeks of this experiment, I really needed a church where I could just go in, relax, and connect with God. Maybe next week.
JOIN THE CONVERSATION
First, I almost walked into the wrong building. There is a Korean Baptist Church within a stone's throw of St. George Russian Orthodox. Speaking of which, who knew there was a Korean Baptist Church in Cincinnati?
When I finally found the correct building, I was shocked to realize the room was small and the congregation was smaller. I expected a huge, old building with lots of people. I was so surprised that I almost turned around and left. I normally have a pretty good idea what I'm walking into, but not this week.
After a brief hesitation, I decided to stay.
The room was overwhelming. It was small, but filled with pictures of Jesus, Mary, and other Biblical characters. There were candles everywhere, and the front of the room had an altar with a fake wall that separated the congregation from a back room. That back room is where the “priest” hung out most of the service, chanting and performing rituals. His back was to us a majority of the time. There were three doors that led to the back room, but the doors were almost always closed.
Everyone was standing except for an old guy sitting on a bench. I joined him. The men stood on the right side of the room, and the women stood on the left. By the end of the service, there were approximately thirty-five women, twenty-five men, and ten children. Almost every woman (and girl) had her head covered.
There were four women singing. They were positioned in the back right corner of the room. They sang throughout the service. In fact, they sang everything. They sang scripture. They sang songs. They sang introductions. I was afraid to say hello to anyone without checking my pitch first. Literally, nothing was said without it being sung.
The songs were actually quite beautiful. Very similar to the “chanting” I heard during Compline in Savannah.
One thing I learned: Russian Orthodox folks love making the sign of the cross. I am not exaggerating. In eighty minutes, each person averaged well over a hundred. It was wild. And they added a new twist … bending over and touching the ground after making the sign. No idea why.
Up front, there were separate shrines dedicated to Jesus and Mary. People lit candles and placed them near their pictures (while making the sign of the cross a dozen times). They also kissed the pictures, which of course, is a great way to spread the Swine Flu.
The priest kissed the Bible after his scripture reading. And what a Bible it was. Large and fancy with gold trim. He read the verses in Russian and English, singing both.
At one point, I thought we were going to take communion. The priest came out front with two chalices, but then took them both behind the altar, closed the door, and even closed a curtain so we couldn’t see anything. He chanted for a long time while the “choir” sang more songs.
I was fascinated with the old man sitting next to me. He had a prayer book filled with his personal notes and pictures. He pulled out a picture of a saint and kissed it, then prayed for a while. The book looked worn, and I wondered if he’d been carrying it around with him for fifty years. There is something pretty cool about religious traditions when people are really passionate about the rituals instead of just checking them off of a list.
Unfortunately, the room was so small, it was so crowded, there were so many candles, it got so hot, and so much incense was burned, that I could barely breathe after eighty minutes. I was sweating, my head hurt, and I felt trapped. I know faith isn’t always about being comfortable, but Sunday was rough. Near the end of the service, I had to step out of the room to get some fresh air. Once I noticed things were winding down, I left.
This had to be the most ritualistic service of them all. It wasn’t bad, but unless you understand the rituals, it’s sort of pointless. I can’t imagine someone could walk in off the street and feel comfortable. Rituals may mean a lot to the congregation, but they mean very little to guests (at least at first). If people experience God in profound ways by lighting candles, singing Bible verses, and making the sign of the cross five hundred times, that’s great. It just doesn’t do much for me. Especially when it’s eighty minutes of rituals. Maybe mix in a message somewhere along the way.
There was a lot to soak up at St. George. I’m not sure I had any time to just sit back and experience God. After a few stressful weeks of this experiment, I really needed a church where I could just go in, relax, and connect with God. Maybe next week.
JOIN THE CONVERSATION
