Going To Church

Sometimes Orthodox Church services are unbelievably long, especially when a "Feast Day" happens to butt up against the normal Sunday services. So, I was standing (there are no pews in a traditional Orthodox service. . .you stand) in Church this morning kinda dreading the fact that we were facing another 3 hours of services this morning (Royal Hours followed by Divine Liturgy followed by the Great Blessing of the Waters), another 1+ hours tonight (Vespers), and 3 hours tomorrow morning (Matins and Divine Liturgy for the feast of Theophany) followed by another couple hours driving out to the Willamette River for the service of the Great Blessing of the Waters, done again, this time outdoors in Portland's famous weather.

I was feeling sorry for myself because I'd had a bit of a cold during the past week, and I was starting to go through some pretty goofy head games. I imagined myself "having speaks" with the Priest to suggest that he KNOCK IT OFF!!. I mean, it must be against the Constitution or something to go to church this much in America. I started wondering if we were fanatics since everybody knows that spending this much time doing something other than entertaining yourself just ain't right. Well, you probably get the picture. My concentration was drifting in and out of the service and I wasn't feeling all that engaged, except with my own agitated thoughts.

But as time wore on I found myself caught up in the prayers of the service, especially during the Great Blessing of the Waters, which is something done once a year at Theophany. (Note: Theophany, which loosely translated means 'God being revealed', is the feast of the baptism of Christ. It is named "Theophany" because at Christ's baptism, God clearly reveals himself as the Holy Trinity in the following way: Christ is being baptized by John, while the Holy Spirit takes on the form of a dove, and the Father speaks in an audible voice from heaven.) As my mind and heart became more engaged in the prayers, chants, and actions of the service (water being sprinkled everywhere. . .in fairly great quantities), at some point, my body quit complaining. I don’t remember exactly how or when it happened, but somehow I was “there”. . .that is, fully engaged and “present” at the Divine Service.

When I was a child, a 45 minute church service was too much. But what I didn’t know then was that it can sometimes take hours to get past the angry/whining/bitching phase, and on to the humble/prayerful/grateful phase. Some things just take time, and there is no way around it. If our body is allowed to constantly win. . .it becomes more demanding. Ultimately, our souls are weakened by the body's tyranny. Then our whole being suffers the consequences (loss of peace, illness, morbid self-occupation, etc.) of the imbalance. Hmmm. . .all this simply because of Church. . .last night. . .this morning. . .later today. . .and tomorrow. I dunno. . .maybe I'll still have speaks with the Priest. . .in confession.