Orthodoxy

My friend Paul loaned me some books this week on Orthodoxy. As we’ve had numerous theological conversations over the years he has often said, “Ronna, you have got to learn more about Orthodoxy. It would make so much sense to you!” I don’t know why I’ve resisted…beyond the normal excuse of not having time to read any more books than the many that now sit in tidy stacks throughout my home in informal categories of “should read,” “book group,” “want to read,” and “someday I’ll get to this one.” Maybe I’ve resisted because of inaccurate biases I’ve held about this system of belief. Maybe I’ve resisted because the Orthodox church doesn’t ordain women (OK…that’s not a maybe, it’s for certain!). Maybe I’ve resisted because the work of trying/wanting to understand something new is work and I just haven’t wanted to expend it. All these aside, I started reading this morning. And out of the five books he gave me, I think I chose the right one with which to begin:

Facing East: A Pilgrim’s Journey Into The Mysteries of Orthodoxy by Frederica Mathewes-Green. Here’s how she begins:

He was an Episcopal priest, but he was standing in an Orthodox church on this Saturday night and thinking about Truth. At the altar a gold-robed priest strode back and forth swinging incense, moving in and out the doors of the iconostasis according to rubrics that were as yet unfamiliar. Golden bells chimed against the censer, and the light was smoky and dim. Over to the left a small choir was singing in haunting harmony, voices twining in a capella simplicity. The truth part was this: the ancient words of this versperal service had been chanted for more than a millennium. Lex orandi, lex credendi; what people pray shapes what they believe. This was a church that had never, could never, apostatize.

She was his wife, and she was standing next to him thinking about her feet. They hurt. She wondered why they had pes if you had to stand up all the time. The struggling choir was weak and singing in an unintelligible language that may have been English. The few other worshipers weren’t participating in the service in any visible way. Why did they hide the altar behind a wall? It was annoying how the priest kept popping in and out of the doors like a figure on a Swiss clock. The service dragged on following no discernable pattern, and it was interminable. Once the priest said, “Let us conclude our evening prayer to the Lord.” She checked her watch again; that was ten minutes ago, and still no end in sight. (xiii-xiv)

Here’s a woman with whom I can relate; who potentially had as much resistance as I do. And yet she stayed. She remained curious. She wondered anew about ways in which she might understand and experience God – ways that were hardly new, but in fact, were steeped in some of the oldest living traditions of the church. I like that about her.

Now I’m not saying that I’m going to become an Orthodox. I just want to stay – at least through these 238 pages. I want to remain curious. I want to wonder anew about ways in which I might understand and experience God. And I love that there are traditions within the church that have endured despite denominational fighting, the demand for cultural relevance, and theological schisms.

Seems worth setting some other books aside for a time and wandering through another woman’s reflections, thoughts, and experiences. Indeed, no matter where these books take me, even with my resistance intact, words like these, at the end of Green’s preface are worth reading:

The best antidote is to come and see for yourself what I so clumsily try to portray. Come and learn firsthand what Orthodoxy is.

Who can resist an invitation like that? I’m back to the big chair in my living room and more reading…

Be Sociable, Share!