In the fall of 1987, I accompanied my husband to a vespers service at the OCA cathedral in Boston. I had at that time no interest in religion and went intending to help him feel more comfortable in this church about which he had been reading. I expected to be there once.
The first thing I noticed when we, still uncertain, walked in was a large mosaic of Christ; the expression on his face surprised me. He had a look of compassion that also told of immense suffering. The nave had two beams that curved from corner to corner and crossed on the ceiling. I felt as though I were inside an egg, wholly protected but still a part of the world.
During the service, I was impressed that the priest stood as the congregation stood, facing the altar; he seemed one with the people, not one set above the people. I remembered nothing of the words of the service then, but I felt that I was in a place that was both in heaven and on earth.
For the next three months, I came faithfully to one vespers service a week. I was attracted but still hesitant. We attended a young adult discussion group, but that didn't make much of an impression on me. Finally, the Sunday before Christmas, I went to a liturgy, and I felt at home there. On Christmas day, before I had to work, I went to the liturgy.
This was a turning point: before the service, the bishop, robed in black, entered the church. When he reached the center of the nave, the altar boys took the black robe and replaced it with a white robe that shone. The bishop's face and hands eloquently expressed his love and commitment, as well as a great tenderness.
I became a catechumen the next week. I began to read about Orthodoxy and continued to see the relationship of God and man as one of mutual love, not one of power. Reading the works of the Fathers opened my eyes to the beauty, intellectual and spiritual, of life in and with Christ.
Orthodox worship engages the person, senses, mind, and soul. We hear the Word; we hear the words of hymns instructing us in the faith. We see the splendor of God in the architecture of the church; we see the glory of God in the saints whose icons adorn the walls and who worship with us. We smell the incense which rises as a prayer to God; we smell the beeswax of the candles, also burning as prayer. We kiss icons; we cross ourselves. We taste the Word as we receive the Eucharist.
As a modern church father, Metropolitan Anthony [Bloom] says, we discover God, the supreme value and total meaning of life, who is also a person.