You’ve read about it at Miss Amy Welborn’s, Gerard Serafin’s and Sean Roberts’, but some odd circumstances combined to make me the first from St. Blog’s to attend the new Russian Catholic liturgy in Denver. I echo the sage advice found at Summa Contra Mundum -- if you have the opportunity, you should familiarize yourself with the eastern rite liturgy.

It’s a very reverent form of worship and I hope to have the opportunity to return. The people were very welcoming – in their manner through the liturgy and in saying hello afterwards. (Thank God there was no “grip and grin”.) Fr. Chrysostom Frank is a remarkable homilist – although I’m confident that his homilies in Roman Rite would be equally edifying.

I probably had an easier time than many visitors would because of my extensive interest in liturgy and ecumenical background. I was raised Lutheran and went through the Episcopal church (as high church as possible, thank you very much) on my way to Catholicism. The litany that would be repeated throughout the liturgy was borrowed and shortened by the Lutherans in their 1982 Hymnal –I had served as a cantor using that book, so that was quite familiar. Many of the a cappella chant tones were readily accessible, though some were quite strange and apparently not altogether familiar to even the regular worshippers.

That being said, I should have taken the opportunity to be better prepared for the liturgy. (I’m not speaking of the preparation for reception of the Blessed Sacrament, but of preparation for the way the Byzantines worship.) Fr. Chrysostom thoughtfully produced a leaflet on the etiquette of Byzantine worship, which was helpful. Unfortunately what I could see going on around me didn’t match what the leaflet described in terms of the gestures to be used. (That may be due to the limitations imposed by the space used for the liturgy.) I’m used to be clumsy in my day-to-day life, but being fairly adept at the gestures of worship. I was all thumbs. I’d suggest that it would be good if the etiquette leaflet could be updated to reflect what’s likely to fit the space that’s being used and that it be posted online (maybe at the Archdiocesan site?) so that Roman rite visitors like me could come in with a better feel for what to expect.

I was surprised that, even though I arrived about five minutes before the scheduled 11:00 am start, the altar party was already in place when I arrived. In addition to Fr. C, there were four servers in golden robes – one man and three teenaged boys. One difference in the Byzantine rite is that there’s an expectation that the faithful will attend corporate Morning Prayer before the Divine Liturgy. Had I known this in advance, I would have gladly conformed. I think the liturgy actually started just a bit before the scheduled time. I was seated pretty far to the back.

I’m not very good at guessing the number of people in a group, but if pressed I’d say there were between 60 and 90 – nearly all of whom were younger than me (I’ll be 40 in December). There were more women than men and quite a few children, all quite well behaved. No one was dressed very formally, but no one was in shorts, t-shirts, jeans or revealing outfits either. The women generally wore dresses that were both becoming and modest and men wore nice slacks and a dress shirt. Nearly every man wore a beard and those without beards mostly had mustaches. Mine was the only beard with noticeable gray or white. It’s probably a function of age, though it could also be related to the more rigorous eastern fasts, that nearly everyone (excluding me and one older lady) was thin. Oddly enough there was only one other tall person (noticeably over 6’) present. He was in front of me. I didn’t want to move over and block the view of the shorter folks behind me. That, combined with my constant reference to the booklet and leaflet and my position in the building, kept me from seeing many of the actions taking place at the altar.

The old St. Elizabeth of Hungary church was renovated in either the sixties or seventies, so the worship space will be enhanced over time. Right now its quite stark. I don’t know why the main altar wasn’t used, but after the liturgy Fr. C announced that they would be working toward having the same altar used by both rites in the parish – a great bit of symbolism of unity. The altar that was used was to the liturgical north of the main altar and not far elevated from the main floor. St. E’s has three aisles. The congregation occupied the pews to the liturgical north of the north aisle and the choir occupied the pews to the liturgical south of the north aisle. I didn’t get a good look at the altar proper at any point in the liturgy. In front of the altar were four icons on brass easels, from right to left – St. John the Baptist, Our Lady with her Divine Child, a bishop whom I couldn’t readily identify and Ss. Cyril and Methodius, the patrons of this community. There was also a round short pillar, the top of which was a dish full of sand. Two lit tapers were in the sand. The adult server often held a great processional cross aloft. Two of the younger servers held small icons on long poles at various points of the liturgy. Fr. C was vested in a very heavy brocaded white garment that looked something like a cross between a cope and a chausible. At the procession I noticed that Fr. C himself is a rather small man, but he has such presence about him that he seems bigger than he is. He’s strikingly handsome with a high forehead, piercing eyes, an aristocratic nose and a prominent chin. He wears a goatee and spectacles.

One benefit of being off to the side was that attention was diverted from the rather ugly windows. I don’t know if this was the reason that the north was chosen over south for the liturgy, but the corpus on the great crucifix over the high altar was looking directly toward the altar of sacrifice. On the wall behind the altar was a sixties-ish statue of the Madonna and Child. (This indicates to me that the liturgy was likely celebrated pretty much over the spot were Fr. Leo Heinrichs was martyred.)

In addition to the leaflet on liturgy etiquette, there were booklets with the text of the liturgy – another variant is available here. This was quite helpful as most of the texts would not be familiar to a westerner. There were many exquisitely beautiful prayers – especially the “O Lord, I believe and profess” prayed before the communion. The practice of saying your name (baptismal or chrismation/confirmation) to the priest so that he can say your name in the sentence “The servant of God N . . ., partakes of the precious, most holy and most pure Body and Blood of our Lord, God and Savior Jesus Christ for the remission of his (her) sins and for life everlasting. Amen” makes the Eucharistic celebration yet more personal. It’s only the second time I’ve been addressed by my confirmation name. I prayed the printed Byzantine prayers for use before and after communion along with my own customary prayers for those occasions.

I was baffled by the frequent repetition of the litany that begins “In peace let us pray to the Lord”. Perhaps if I could have seen the accompanying actions, it would have made more sense to me. There were quite a few other practices that struck me as odd, like the use of the formula “the Pope of Rome” when praying for the Holy Father and the omission of the filioque. From the booklet, it appears that the services of a deacon would be a desirable enhancement to the celebration of this rite.

The chanting of the creed, even with the aforementioned omission, was one of the most amazing moments of the liturgy. The chant tone, which I don’t remember hearing before, was quite accessible so I was able to join in completely and unabashedly in harmony. Here was a point that demonstrated both the great similarities of the communities and the difference as well. In the Roman Rite we too often rush through the creed or else subject it to such musical ornamentation that it becomes nearly incomprehensible. Here it stood on its own as a clear declaration. The positioning of the creed – immediately before the Sursum Cor and after the dismissal of the catechumens – is brilliant.

The Great Entrance, which was conducted like the western entry procession but placed at the time of the Presentation of the Gifts, had a majesty to it that emphasized the sacredness of the sacrament in a way that’s too rarely seen in the western rite. The use of elaborate language and gesture, the rich vestments and the icons all add to the sense of the sacred, but it can also be exhausting. I’m quite confident that there was not more than ten seconds passed at any time during the 80-90 minute liturgy without some chant, prayer or speech.

However even after experiencing all the greatness of this liturgy, I know myself to be very much a westerner. While my better blogger Athanasius may say this makes me a bit of a girly man, I appreciate the pregnant pauses in the western liturgy and the greater ease at which one may lapse into private prayers. Familiarity with the liturgical texts allows me to pray glosses on them. There seems to be much less variation with the seasons in the eastern rites, excluding the variations at Great Lent and Pascha. I appreciate the “lesser” seasons and the other observances too.

When I received the Blessed Sacrament was the time I was most aware of my own western-ness. I wasn’t quite sure of the proper posture and whether the bow, which is second nature now, would be inappropriate (I bowed anyway). The confirmation name by which I was addressed is that of a Roman martyr. Receiving by intinction was foreign, as was kissing the base of the chalice. The prayer which I pray on receiving (Summe, Gloriose Deus is a distinctly Latin prayer. Staying standing, rather than kneeling, on return to the pew was decidedly odd.

I hope to attend Roman rite Mass at St. Elizabeth’s as well. This is a noble enterprise. I’m convinced that Fr. C is uniquely suited to this position and to the evangelization of the campus. He is a man of great natural gifts – articulate, personable and charismatic– whose love for the Lord is palpable. May his work be fruitful!