If you are not Orthodox and you haven't read this post, you should probably read it before this one. It gives the explanation for what you will see in pictures in this post. Thanks to Cindy Ralston for the beautiful pictures, which, though absolutely wonderful, still do not do justice to actually being there -- come and see!
The Resurrection Service begins. Father Andrew brings out the Paschal candle to light the darkness (note the Royal Doors are closed).
"Come ye, take light from the Light, that is never overtaken by night....."
The congregation gathers at the front doors in anticipation.
"Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death, and upon those in the tombs bestowing life!" Note the open doors -- the tomb has been rent! Throughout Bright Week, both the Royal Doors and the Deacon doors will remain open at all times signifying the empty tomb.
The little entrance....
Venerating the Gospel book.
an Orthodox Christian blog under the patronage of St. John the Theologian
Monday, April 25, 2011
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Divine Liturgy of Holy Pascha -- a/k/a "Come and See, part II"
Wow. Just wow. Demonstrative pictures are included in this post, but as with the previous post, there is no way at all to describe the Divine Liturgy of Holy Pascha to someone who has never seen one. It's funny, because it is in a lot of ways the same observation we've had about the Orthodox Church all along, just writ a bit larger. Pascha is a lot like the first Lutheran Easter we ever celebrated, only different. Different in scope and different in style, but at the same time very similar. What follows is our explanation, but by all means -- come and see! Words do not describe this. You have to experience it. You'll just have to wait until next year (the good news is those of you who are not Orthodox can come to "Orthodox Easter" next year with a clean conscience -- it will be a different week from "Western Easter").
We began attending our first Lutheran parish during the Epiphany in 2001. We got Ash Wednesday, Lent, Holy Week and the first half of the Easter Vigil out of the way before we were confirmed. I can say that what struck us then was the rhythm of the Church year, how we went from kind of cruising along easily during Epiphany, to being very somber and quiet and dark during Lent, to turning everything up full volume for Easter. The Lutheran Church had a sense of keeping things in their proper perspective. Great Lent, Holy Week and Holy Pascha in the Orthodox Church is like that. Only different.
In Orthodoxy, Great Lent is treated as a time of quiet and dark reflection as well. But Sundays during Lent are not considered part of Lent, though they are not yet Pascha either. The fast isn't lifted for the weekend services, but the darkness, prostrations and typical mourning, penitential feel are removed. And yet, there is still a sense of anticipation. The biggest difference is Holy Week itself. In Orthodoxy, Holy Week is a time of mourning, lamentation, knowledge of one's own sin, repentance, etc. But there is also a prefigurement -- Palm Sunday is always preceded by and in remembrance of Lazarus Saturday (if I'm not mistaken, Lutherans have the story of Lazarus earlier in Lent). We have in Lazarus a picture of what is coming at Pascha. So Holy Week doesn't have the sense of foreboding it does in the Western liturgy, though it is certainly penitential and somber. Christ's death during Holy Week in the Orthodox Church is already prefigured by the preceding resurrection of Lazarus, so we have a bit more of a sense of what is coming than was our experience in the Western liturgy.
Pascha itself is very much like a good Lutheran Easter mass, only different. One thing we loved about Easter in the Lutheran Church is that on Good Friday, we left the Church in total darkness, with the altar stripped and the crosses veiled -- a reminder that Christ was in the tomb. Yet we were left with a reminder that the tomb had been rent -- the "strepitus," which was a loud noise at the very end of the Liturgy. On Holy Saturday evening, when we celebrated the Easter Vigil (which like Holy Pascha is quite a bit longer than a normal Lutheran mass), the entire parish began inside the same room, lights darkened, and candles were lit from the Paschal candle. Then, the congregation processed outside the Church with lit candles (I think I'm remembering this correctly -- it's been over 5 years since we had this particular service). Then the entire congregation processed back inside loudly singing a resurrection hymn -- "Jesus Christ is Risen Today" is the one that sticks out to me as I remember this. As the congregation moved into the nave, the lights were brought up to announce the resurrection. It was utterly beautiful and extremely powerful.
In the Orthodox Church, on the evening of Holy Saturday as we begin the Paschal celebration, we begin inside the nave with the Rush Service followed by the Resurrection Service. At the beginning of the Resurrection Service, the lights are all off and the parish candles which usually illumine the nave even during Great Lent remaining unlit. Then the priest comes to the ambon holding a lit Paschal candle and announces "come ye, take light from the Light, that is never overtaken by night. Come, glorify the Christ, risen from the dead." Each lights his candle from the Paschal candle and spreads the light around the room until the entire parish is lit only by the vast array of candles. The entire congregation then processes outside and around the Church grounds, ending at the parish doors. The Gospel is read at the door of the parish, which is unlit and dark, and then following the Gospel reading, the priest knocks on the door of the parish saying "lift up your gates, O ye princes, and be ye lifted up, ye everlasting gates, and the King of glory shall enter in." The reply comes from inside, "Who is the King of glory," at which the priest says "the Lord strong and mighty, the Lord, mighty in war." This continues three times until the third time, when the priest responds "the Lord of hosts, he is the King of glory," and the doors to the parish are opened and light comes pouring out. The choir follows the priest in singing "Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death and upon those in the tomb bestowing life!" When the congregation reaches the inside of the nave, all of the lights are on, candles lit and the parish is very much "alive." If Great Lent is the Church at a quiet, elevator volume, Pascha is the Church on full blast.
After this, Orthros continues, and then the Divine Liturgy begins. Not much is different about it from a typical Orthodox Liturgy. Except it is SOOOO different. The tone of the service, the feel of the Liturgy -- everything is louder, brighter, happier, bouncier. Not that Great Lent is sad, or depressing -- it's not. In fact, Great Lent is extremely hopeful. But Pascha is something else entirely. It's the Church without benefit of a volume knob. But it's not noise -- it's joy!
Two things were confirmed for us as we sat in Church for Holy Pascha. First, this is what we've been missing -- we did in fact find in this parish essentially that which we first found 10 years ago in another communion, in another state. Second, we were right to become Orthodox. It's like the Lutheran Church we were raised in. Only different. I looked at my wife during the early part of the Divine Liturgy, and she just smiled and nodded. We're home.
We began attending our first Lutheran parish during the Epiphany in 2001. We got Ash Wednesday, Lent, Holy Week and the first half of the Easter Vigil out of the way before we were confirmed. I can say that what struck us then was the rhythm of the Church year, how we went from kind of cruising along easily during Epiphany, to being very somber and quiet and dark during Lent, to turning everything up full volume for Easter. The Lutheran Church had a sense of keeping things in their proper perspective. Great Lent, Holy Week and Holy Pascha in the Orthodox Church is like that. Only different.
In Orthodoxy, Great Lent is treated as a time of quiet and dark reflection as well. But Sundays during Lent are not considered part of Lent, though they are not yet Pascha either. The fast isn't lifted for the weekend services, but the darkness, prostrations and typical mourning, penitential feel are removed. And yet, there is still a sense of anticipation. The biggest difference is Holy Week itself. In Orthodoxy, Holy Week is a time of mourning, lamentation, knowledge of one's own sin, repentance, etc. But there is also a prefigurement -- Palm Sunday is always preceded by and in remembrance of Lazarus Saturday (if I'm not mistaken, Lutherans have the story of Lazarus earlier in Lent). We have in Lazarus a picture of what is coming at Pascha. So Holy Week doesn't have the sense of foreboding it does in the Western liturgy, though it is certainly penitential and somber. Christ's death during Holy Week in the Orthodox Church is already prefigured by the preceding resurrection of Lazarus, so we have a bit more of a sense of what is coming than was our experience in the Western liturgy.
Pascha itself is very much like a good Lutheran Easter mass, only different. One thing we loved about Easter in the Lutheran Church is that on Good Friday, we left the Church in total darkness, with the altar stripped and the crosses veiled -- a reminder that Christ was in the tomb. Yet we were left with a reminder that the tomb had been rent -- the "strepitus," which was a loud noise at the very end of the Liturgy. On Holy Saturday evening, when we celebrated the Easter Vigil (which like Holy Pascha is quite a bit longer than a normal Lutheran mass), the entire parish began inside the same room, lights darkened, and candles were lit from the Paschal candle. Then, the congregation processed outside the Church with lit candles (I think I'm remembering this correctly -- it's been over 5 years since we had this particular service). Then the entire congregation processed back inside loudly singing a resurrection hymn -- "Jesus Christ is Risen Today" is the one that sticks out to me as I remember this. As the congregation moved into the nave, the lights were brought up to announce the resurrection. It was utterly beautiful and extremely powerful.
In the Orthodox Church, on the evening of Holy Saturday as we begin the Paschal celebration, we begin inside the nave with the Rush Service followed by the Resurrection Service. At the beginning of the Resurrection Service, the lights are all off and the parish candles which usually illumine the nave even during Great Lent remaining unlit. Then the priest comes to the ambon holding a lit Paschal candle and announces "come ye, take light from the Light, that is never overtaken by night. Come, glorify the Christ, risen from the dead." Each lights his candle from the Paschal candle and spreads the light around the room until the entire parish is lit only by the vast array of candles. The entire congregation then processes outside and around the Church grounds, ending at the parish doors. The Gospel is read at the door of the parish, which is unlit and dark, and then following the Gospel reading, the priest knocks on the door of the parish saying "lift up your gates, O ye princes, and be ye lifted up, ye everlasting gates, and the King of glory shall enter in." The reply comes from inside, "Who is the King of glory," at which the priest says "the Lord strong and mighty, the Lord, mighty in war." This continues three times until the third time, when the priest responds "the Lord of hosts, he is the King of glory," and the doors to the parish are opened and light comes pouring out. The choir follows the priest in singing "Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death and upon those in the tomb bestowing life!" When the congregation reaches the inside of the nave, all of the lights are on, candles lit and the parish is very much "alive." If Great Lent is the Church at a quiet, elevator volume, Pascha is the Church on full blast.
After this, Orthros continues, and then the Divine Liturgy begins. Not much is different about it from a typical Orthodox Liturgy. Except it is SOOOO different. The tone of the service, the feel of the Liturgy -- everything is louder, brighter, happier, bouncier. Not that Great Lent is sad, or depressing -- it's not. In fact, Great Lent is extremely hopeful. But Pascha is something else entirely. It's the Church without benefit of a volume knob. But it's not noise -- it's joy!Two things were confirmed for us as we sat in Church for Holy Pascha. First, this is what we've been missing -- we did in fact find in this parish essentially that which we first found 10 years ago in another communion, in another state. Second, we were right to become Orthodox. It's like the Lutheran Church we were raised in. Only different. I looked at my wife during the early part of the Divine Liturgy, and she just smiled and nodded. We're home.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Great and Holy Saturday -- Lamentations and Procession of the Bier
If there is anything that a person relatively new to Orthodoxy can say to someone who is not Orthodox that is almost guaranteed to irritate the non-Orthodox, it is "I can't really describe it for you -- you have to come and see." The fact that this is a true statement doesn't help much. It is something to which most non-Orthodox cannot fully relate.
Such it is with Holy Saturday services (celebrated on the eve of Holy Friday by anticipation). It had been explained to me what would happen (and I will explain it to you), but words simply are inadequate to describe this service. First, a funeral bier is decorated with flowers by the children in the congregation. The bier is then set up in the middle of the nave, front and center of the solea. Then there is the Service of the Taking Down from the Cross, where Christ's corpus, having been nailed (yes, nailed) to the cross the evening prior, is now taken down off the cross. The corpus is wrapped in burial cloths and taken behind the altar, and the Epitaphios (a cloth icon of the burial of Christ) is placed on the bier. The now-empty cross is set up behind the bier and (in our case) to the right.
The Service of the Lamentations begins Friday evening. I had been told what would happen, so nothing particularly was a surprise except for the great beauty and reverence of this Service. The Canon is chanted, and the Lamentations are sung, but the really amazing part was when the bier was picked up and elevated as with any other funeral procession, the entire parish lit candles and the Priest led the bier, followed by the choir and congregation, on a procession around the parish grounds singing the Trisagion hymn:
Holy God
Holy Mighty
Holy Immortal
have mercy on us
Then, when we arrived again at the parish entrance, the bier was elevated, and each and every member of the parish re-entered the parish by walking in under the bier and Epitaphios. We enter the Church through the incarnation, life, death and resurrection of Christ, and this act symbolizes that it is our grave -- our death -- which Christ has now entered.
Even with this level of detail, words cannot describe, and frankly what I've written above does not do justice to, what we experienced. The Lamentations themselves are simply beautiful. Likewise the Canon. As my friend and Chrismation sponsor told me before the service, "anyone who leaves this service not understanding why we hold the Mother of God in such high esteem doesn't have a soul." The weight of my own sin, the price that was paid for that sin, the great love that was demonstrated by the act of laying down His own life that by His death, Hades might swallow a man and choke on God Almighty -- and yet the words above are insufficient to explain. It must be experienced.
Following the Service of the Lamentations, members of the parish stayed behind for an all night vigil. So in addition to watching the beauty of the Service of the Lamentations, I was able to participate (in a small way) in the reading of the entire Psalter and most of the four Gospels. We got more than halfway through the Gospel According to Saint John before it was time for the Vesperal Divine Liturgy this morning. Like the Apostles before me, I fell asleep and missed a fair amount of the readings. But that's one of the beautiful things about the Church -- she was praying even as I was unable in my weakness to do so myself. Sitting in the darkened Church, with the Psalter and the Gospels being read and only candles to light the room was quite peaceful. Silence and stillness, broken only by the Word of God. Again, something that words cannot describe -- this too must be experienced.
Everyone is telling me that if I thought last night was beautiful, tonight will be even better. We therefore anticipate all the more Christ's Holy Resurrection.
Such it is with Holy Saturday services (celebrated on the eve of Holy Friday by anticipation). It had been explained to me what would happen (and I will explain it to you), but words simply are inadequate to describe this service. First, a funeral bier is decorated with flowers by the children in the congregation. The bier is then set up in the middle of the nave, front and center of the solea. Then there is the Service of the Taking Down from the Cross, where Christ's corpus, having been nailed (yes, nailed) to the cross the evening prior, is now taken down off the cross. The corpus is wrapped in burial cloths and taken behind the altar, and the Epitaphios (a cloth icon of the burial of Christ) is placed on the bier. The now-empty cross is set up behind the bier and (in our case) to the right.
The Service of the Lamentations begins Friday evening. I had been told what would happen, so nothing particularly was a surprise except for the great beauty and reverence of this Service. The Canon is chanted, and the Lamentations are sung, but the really amazing part was when the bier was picked up and elevated as with any other funeral procession, the entire parish lit candles and the Priest led the bier, followed by the choir and congregation, on a procession around the parish grounds singing the Trisagion hymn:
Holy God
Holy Mighty
Holy Immortal
have mercy on us
Then, when we arrived again at the parish entrance, the bier was elevated, and each and every member of the parish re-entered the parish by walking in under the bier and Epitaphios. We enter the Church through the incarnation, life, death and resurrection of Christ, and this act symbolizes that it is our grave -- our death -- which Christ has now entered.
Even with this level of detail, words cannot describe, and frankly what I've written above does not do justice to, what we experienced. The Lamentations themselves are simply beautiful. Likewise the Canon. As my friend and Chrismation sponsor told me before the service, "anyone who leaves this service not understanding why we hold the Mother of God in such high esteem doesn't have a soul." The weight of my own sin, the price that was paid for that sin, the great love that was demonstrated by the act of laying down His own life that by His death, Hades might swallow a man and choke on God Almighty -- and yet the words above are insufficient to explain. It must be experienced.
Following the Service of the Lamentations, members of the parish stayed behind for an all night vigil. So in addition to watching the beauty of the Service of the Lamentations, I was able to participate (in a small way) in the reading of the entire Psalter and most of the four Gospels. We got more than halfway through the Gospel According to Saint John before it was time for the Vesperal Divine Liturgy this morning. Like the Apostles before me, I fell asleep and missed a fair amount of the readings. But that's one of the beautiful things about the Church -- she was praying even as I was unable in my weakness to do so myself. Sitting in the darkened Church, with the Psalter and the Gospels being read and only candles to light the room was quite peaceful. Silence and stillness, broken only by the Word of God. Again, something that words cannot describe -- this too must be experienced.
Everyone is telling me that if I thought last night was beautiful, tonight will be even better. We therefore anticipate all the more Christ's Holy Resurrection.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Great and Holy Saturday
"Come, let us see our Life lying in the tomb, that He may give life to those that in their tombs lie dead. Come, let us look today on the Son of Judah as He sleeps, and with the prophet let us cry aloud to Him: Thou hast lain down, Thou hast slept as a lion; who shall awaken Thee, O King? But of Thine own free will do Thou rise up, who willingly dost give Thyself for us. O Lord, glory to Thee."
"Today a tomb holds Him who holds the creation in the hollow of His hand; a stone covers Him who covered the heavens with glory. Life sleeps and hell trembles, and Adam is set free from his bonds. Glory to Thy dispensation, whereby Thou hast accomplished all things, granting us an eternal Sabbath, Thy most holy Resurrection from the dead."
"Today a tomb holds Him who holds the creation in the hollow of His hand; a stone covers Him who covered the heavens with glory. Life sleeps and hell trembles, and Adam is set free from his bonds. Glory to Thy dispensation, whereby Thou hast accomplished all things, granting us an eternal Sabbath, Thy most holy Resurrection from the dead."
Great and Holy Friday
Today He who hung the earth upon the waters is hung upon the Cross. He who is King of the angels is arrayed in a crown of thorns. He who wraps the heavens in clouds is wrapped in the purple of mockery. He who in Jordan set Adam free receives blows upon His face. The Bridegroom of the Church is transfixed with nails. The Son of the Virgin is pierced with a spear. We venerate Thy Passion, O Christ. Show us also Thy glorious Resurrection.
Great and Holy Thursday
When the glorious disciples were enlightened at the washing of their feet before the supper, the impious Judas was darkened by the disease of avarice, and to the lawless judges he betrayed You, the Righteous Judge. Behold, this man because of avarice hanged himself. Flee from the insatiable desire which dared such things against the Master! O Lord Who deals righteously with all, glory to You!
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Great and Holy Wednesday
O Lord, the woman who had fallen into many sins perceived thy divinity and received the rank of the ointment-bearing women; and with mourning she brought myrrh to thee before thy burial. She said: “Woe is me, for I am surrounded with a gloomy and moonless night, full of lustful passion. Accept the fountains of my tears, for thou gatherest into clouds the water of the sea. Incline to the groaning of my heart, for in thine inexpressible self-abasement thou hast bowed the heavens. I will kiss thy most pure feet and wipe them with the locks of my hair, those feet whose sound Eve heard at dusk in Paradise, and hid herself in fear. Who can search out the multitude of my sins and the depth of thy judgments, O Savior of my soul? In thy boundless mercy despise me not, thy handmaid.”
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