Enter into the silence, part one

St. Thomas Greek Orthodox Church
Cherry Hill, NJ
July 8, 2007

The next week I was able to get back to my original ten slips of paper with names of ten churches to visit. I picked St. Thomas Greek Orthodox Church, and knew immediately that I had better do a bit of studying before I showed up in their sanctuary.

The church has a great website (UPDATE – the site has been changed quite a bit since I looked at it in 2007, but it was good both back then and now). I learned that summer hours were in effect, meaning Matins at 8:30 and Divine Liturgy at 9:30. Of course, I wasn’t sure what Matins and Divine Liturgy meant in this context, but that was a start.

The website was printed in both English and Greek, which was particularly interesting to me because I minored in Classical Studies, and was able to resuscitate my long-dormant skills in reading Greek letters, and a few Greek words. There is such a huge difference between ancient Greek and modern Greek, though, that I wouldn’t have been able to read the Greek text on its own, even if I had several dictionaries and months to spend on the task. The church runs a Hellenic language afternoon school.

The website has a very helpful explanation of the Greek Orthodox house of worship. Like most church structures, it is divided into three parts: the narthex (vestibule), nave (main section, where the people sit), and sanctuary (chancel and altar area). Like many people, I often use the word sanctuary to refer to the entire worship area --nave and sanctuary – but technically that’s wrong.

According to the St. Thomas website, the narthex represents the unredeemed, or sinful, world. When a worshipper enters the narthex, he or she should make the sign of the cross, place an offering in the collection plate, light a candle, and venerate an icon. Only then should the worshipper enter the nave.

The nave represents the transfigured world where God’s people gather. In the center of the ceiling is a domed icon of Christ the Almighty. To the left is the choir area and to the right the baptismal font. The chancel is an elevated area immediately before the sanctuary. It represents the place where the transfigured world and heaven meet. It contains the bishop’s throne, a reading stand, a pulpit, banners, lamps, and the iconostasion, or icon screen. The screen depicts Christ, the apostles, the Virgin Mary, saints, and angels, as well as a scene from the Last Supper.

The area behind the iconostasion is the site of the altar, and is almost always semicircular in Orthodox churches. It is called the apse. On the wall of the apse most Orthodox churches have an icon of Mary Theotokos with Jesus, as a reminder that salvation came through the incarnation. At St. Thomas, this icon rests on a depiction of six bishops who are considered the “pillars of the faith.” The altar table holds a tabernacle for the reserved Eucharist. From the ceiling hangs a votive lamp that burns constantly, reminding us of God’s constant presence.

Another interesting fact from the website: The fast rules of the Church require abstention from meat, dairy products, eggs, fish and olive oil, in accordance with the individual’s strength and ability, every Wednesday and Friday, during Great Lent and Holy Week, for the Apostles Fast in June, the Dormition of the Theotokos (August 1st to August 14th), Advent, and on other days as specified in the Church calendar.

That’s some pretty intense fasting – not just meat, but dairy, eggs, fish, and olive oil! And pretty darn frequently, too. These Greek Orthodox folks are tough! I notice also a photo of what might be a baby’s baptism, but it’s like no baptism I’ve ever seen – the child is naked, and a priest is holding the child high over his head, in what seems to me an alarming fashion. Unsurprisingly, the baby also seems to be bawling loudly. Perhaps I’m misinterpreting the photo, but if this is not a baptism I have no idea what in the world it could be.

One more thing I wanted to do to prepare for my visit – read something by a Greek Orthodox author. I decided to find something by St. John Chrysostom, using Wikipedia.

St. John Chrysostom lived from 349 to about 409, and was the Archbishop of Constantinople. He was born in Antioch, in what is today Turkey. In his early days he was a hermit, during which time he spent two years “continually standing, scarcely sleeping, and committing the Bible to memory. As a consequence of these practices, his stomach and kidneys were permanently damaged and poor health forced him to return to Antioch.” He became a very popular priest and preacher, and eventually the Patriarch of Constantinople. He is famous for his sermons, which led to his nickname Chrysostom (Golden Mouth).

Unfortunately for his later reputation, he preached a famous series of eight sermons against the Jews and Judaizing Christians, and these sermons were quoted extensively by the Nazis. (He’s not the only preacher guilty of this, of course. Vicious anti-Semitism stains the legacy of Martin Luther, and that of lots of other famous Christians.)

Some folks excuse Chrysostom’s anti-Semitism by claiming that it is anachronistic to judge him according to the customs and standards of modern religious rhetoric. True, but this is an excuse only up to a point. Religious folks use this claim far too frequently, in so many situations, to excuse the words and behavior of their own favorite –or embarrassing -- theologians and preachers. I mean, we are talking about eternal moral truths, aren’t we?

In addition to sermons, Chrysostom’s other lasting legacy is his edition of the Divine Liturgy, which is still used in Eastern Orthodox and most Eastern Catholic churches,
I chose to read one of Chrysostom’s writings from the links offered in Wikipedia: Homily 1 on the Gospel of Matthew.

Wow – if this is the kind of sermon Christians liked in the fifth century, I have to say that they were much more philosophical and erudite than Christians in the twenty-first century. This kind of preaching would not fill the seats in a contemporary mega-church. In fact, I think a steady diet of this might empty out most churches today.

But what a startling, different approach to the Gospel of Matthew Chrysostom takes. He begins by bemoaning the fact that we even need the written Word at all! The fact that we have this gospel is a sign of our fallen condition! (Sorry about all the exclamation points, but these ideas seem so amazing to me.) He argues that things were better in the days of Noah, Abraham, Job, and Moses, when God spoke to his people directly, without written words. Unfortunately, “the whole people of the Hebrews [fell] into the pit of wickedness,” and therefore they needed written words to convey God’s messages. Same thing happened to New Testament believers. God wanted to speak to them directly, through His Spirit, but the early church “made shipwreck, some with regard to doctrines, others as to life and manners,” which necessitated the New Testament.

He also makes note of something that is still a very popular meme among non-Christians – the discordance of the four Gospels. His response is that their disagreement in details is a proof of the fact that the writers did not collaborate.

He contrasts the gospel writers with Plato, “who composed that ridiculous Republic,” and other pagan authors. The pagans write endlessly about ideas such as justice, in such a confusing way that most ordinary people cannot understand them. But the gospel authors are clear and simple, and can be understood by all, even by servants, widows, and children, according to Chrysostom.
Then he asks some questions. Why does Matthew begin by tracing Jesus’ genealogy through Joseph, when Joseph had nothing to do with it? Why, in the genealogy, does Matthew fail to mention eminent women such as Sarah and Rebecca, but mention women who were harlots, adulteresses, and barbarians? Why did he omit three kings? Why does he speak of fourteen generations, but then change the number later? And how is that Elizabeth, who was kin to Mary, was of the Levitical tribe, whereas Mary was not?

Chrysostom doesn’t answer those questions in this first homily – these are just to get our attention. He promises to attend to them later, but first urges his listeners to quiet their hearts and minds: “Let us not therefore with noise or tumult enter in, but with a mystical silence.” The first homily ends here, after whetting our appetites for what is to come. I like it a lot.

Okay, armed with this tiny bit of knowledge, I am ready to attend a Greek Orthodox Church and, as the congregation’s website urges, “enter the silence.”