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This morning I took part in the second instalment of the Grand Tour of Oxford places and forms of worship led by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
emily_shore. Accompanied also by dash_hub, we made our way to the Orthodox Church on Canterbury Road. emily_shore was baptized and confirmed as an infant in the Greek Orthodox Church and dash_hub and so has some experience of Orthodox worship, though mainly on the other side of the Atlantic. I'm a lapsed Methodist.
The Orthodox Church in Oxford falls under two hierarchies, with there being a Greek Orthodox parish and a Russian Orthodox one. Today's was a Greek Orthodox service, principally in Greek but with some English used. I'd not experienced anything like it before. We arrived towards the end of Matins, I think, before the Divine Liturgy proper began. I'd been warned that there was a lot of standing required in Orthodox worship and was, in fact, surprised to see so many chairs available. We positioned ourselves close to three near the back.
My only participation in the worship was my lighting a candle as we arrived; I was interested to seeemily_shore demonstrate her practice at icon-kissing. Crossing oneself, I observed, can be very elaborate in Orthodoxy. Singing was the preserve of a few male specialists; and the priests at times seemed to be coming and going from within the sanctuary. The prayers were long and parts of them, I was surprised to find, were repeated, particularly those for the Orthodox clergy. All 'Orthodox Christians' were prayed for and a long list of countries was given which might have been those with substantial Orthodox populations, though I wasn't sure - Korea and Japan were mentioned, for example. Among the saints prayed for were some English ones - St Werburg was one, as it's her saint's day today, and another was St Frideswide, as Oxford's patron saint.
The sermon was preached by a man I was hesitant to identify as a bishop, butemily_shore was less reticent in conversation afterwards. An internet search confirmed that he was Kallistos (Ware), Metropolitan of Diokleia. He spoke on sacrifice, with quotations from a nineteenth-century Jesuit and from C.S. Lewis, with particular emphasis on the idea that not until you have given something up does it belong to you. I'd like to have been able to hear the sermon again because it was over quickly and I ended up taking my own train of thought off too soon as is too common with me. The celebrating priest read Matthew 25:14-30, the parable of the talents, much favoured in school assemblies in my childhood. My Religious Studies teacher at A-Level, the excellent Dick Hobson, said that the story was always mis-told in schools and that only the fate of the last servant was important, but A-Level is a long time ago now and I've forgotten why.
I'm not qualified to comment on the theological differences between western and eastern Christianity; and I don't know any Greek, only recognising the words for resurrection and death, so much was lost on me beyond the rhythm of the chanting, and watching the chaired congregation stand and sit at various points. What I learned, I learned from observing communion. I'd not realised (though must have been told this a long time ago byemily_shore that babies take communion in the Orthodox Church. The process was new to me, with the administering of wine and then the swallowing of the bread taken, it seemed to me, directly from the plate. (I've only taken Methodist communion once in my life, when standing godfather.) By this time the church was almost full, with several people just turning up late for communion; the priest made a comment at the end reminding the congregation that this was a collective act of worship, not a theatre performance, and that it started at 10.30. As well as parish notices from the priest, Metropolitan Kallistos made some announcements of his own, including his imminent trip to Greece to be installed as the first English Orthodox to be elected to the Academy of Athens; he then travels to Rome for a session of the joint working party on Orthodox-Catholic dialogue.
We left at about 12.10, after two hours. I'd had some reservations about going, but was glad that I overcame them; I didn't mind the incense at all, far from it (I had memories of finding it a bit ludicrous on a trip withpellegrina to see Sir Artegall act as thurrifier at Merton College chapel, but I was entirely unprepared for the use of incense in worship then, and expected it today) and had early on felt that I was witnessing, and perhaps participating in, an ancient expression of spirituality and community.
From the spirit to the flesh, and lunch followed at The Gardener's Arms on Plantation Road (fast becoming the nearest I have to a local), where I treated myself to the Sunday roast of mushroom pie, vegetarian gravy, and vegetables, with a half of St David's Ale; and then a successful quest for blue editing pens, though I've been writing this all afternoon and have not yet used them.
emily_shore. Accompanied also by dash_hub, we made our way to the Orthodox Church on Canterbury Road. emily_shore was baptized and confirmed as an infant in the Greek Orthodox Church and dash_hub and so has some experience of Orthodox worship, though mainly on the other side of the Atlantic. I'm a lapsed Methodist.The Orthodox Church in Oxford falls under two hierarchies, with there being a Greek Orthodox parish and a Russian Orthodox one. Today's was a Greek Orthodox service, principally in Greek but with some English used. I'd not experienced anything like it before. We arrived towards the end of Matins, I think, before the Divine Liturgy proper began. I'd been warned that there was a lot of standing required in Orthodox worship and was, in fact, surprised to see so many chairs available. We positioned ourselves close to three near the back.
My only participation in the worship was my lighting a candle as we arrived; I was interested to see
emily_shore demonstrate her practice at icon-kissing. Crossing oneself, I observed, can be very elaborate in Orthodoxy. Singing was the preserve of a few male specialists; and the priests at times seemed to be coming and going from within the sanctuary. The prayers were long and parts of them, I was surprised to find, were repeated, particularly those for the Orthodox clergy. All 'Orthodox Christians' were prayed for and a long list of countries was given which might have been those with substantial Orthodox populations, though I wasn't sure - Korea and Japan were mentioned, for example. Among the saints prayed for were some English ones - St Werburg was one, as it's her saint's day today, and another was St Frideswide, as Oxford's patron saint. The sermon was preached by a man I was hesitant to identify as a bishop, but
emily_shore was less reticent in conversation afterwards. An internet search confirmed that he was Kallistos (Ware), Metropolitan of Diokleia. He spoke on sacrifice, with quotations from a nineteenth-century Jesuit and from C.S. Lewis, with particular emphasis on the idea that not until you have given something up does it belong to you. I'd like to have been able to hear the sermon again because it was over quickly and I ended up taking my own train of thought off too soon as is too common with me. The celebrating priest read Matthew 25:14-30, the parable of the talents, much favoured in school assemblies in my childhood. My Religious Studies teacher at A-Level, the excellent Dick Hobson, said that the story was always mis-told in schools and that only the fate of the last servant was important, but A-Level is a long time ago now and I've forgotten why. I'm not qualified to comment on the theological differences between western and eastern Christianity; and I don't know any Greek, only recognising the words for resurrection and death, so much was lost on me beyond the rhythm of the chanting, and watching the chaired congregation stand and sit at various points. What I learned, I learned from observing communion. I'd not realised (though must have been told this a long time ago by
emily_shore that babies take communion in the Orthodox Church. The process was new to me, with the administering of wine and then the swallowing of the bread taken, it seemed to me, directly from the plate. (I've only taken Methodist communion once in my life, when standing godfather.) By this time the church was almost full, with several people just turning up late for communion; the priest made a comment at the end reminding the congregation that this was a collective act of worship, not a theatre performance, and that it started at 10.30. As well as parish notices from the priest, Metropolitan Kallistos made some announcements of his own, including his imminent trip to Greece to be installed as the first English Orthodox to be elected to the Academy of Athens; he then travels to Rome for a session of the joint working party on Orthodox-Catholic dialogue.We left at about 12.10, after two hours. I'd had some reservations about going, but was glad that I overcame them; I didn't mind the incense at all, far from it (I had memories of finding it a bit ludicrous on a trip with
pellegrina to see Sir Artegall act as thurrifier at Merton College chapel, but I was entirely unprepared for the use of incense in worship then, and expected it today) and had early on felt that I was witnessing, and perhaps participating in, an ancient expression of spirituality and community. From the spirit to the flesh, and lunch followed at The Gardener's Arms on Plantation Road (fast becoming the nearest I have to a local), where I treated myself to the Sunday roast of mushroom pie, vegetarian gravy, and vegetables, with a half of St David's Ale; and then a successful quest for blue editing pens, though I've been writing this all afternoon and have not yet used them.
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