Melkite

My wife, my mom and I attended the Middle Eastern Festival at the Holy Transfiguration Church located in McLean. Aside from crafts, customs and food the festival featured the church itself. It was hard to ignore the number of black robed men with large ornate crucifixes; in fact, a handful sat at our table which was mildly intimidating but I managed to introduce myself to one who, oddly, wore a white robe.

A peek into the dark sanctuary revealed a gallery of gilded icons with a large fresco of Christ overhead. It was tempting to think this must be some Eastern Orthodox Church but, no, this was a Catholic church—a Melkite Greek Catholic Church—that celebrates mass according to the Byzantine Rite and is in full Communion with the Church in Rome. The origins of this Church goes back pretty far, even earlier than the Western Church, having come from regions in the Middle east (Alexandria, Antioch) and from the first communities of the Apostles.

I had heard of this church some time ago when Sigrid, the octogenarian woman that led me to the Church, mentioned it. More recently we ran into a member at a small gathering at a friend’s house last week. Small world, we ran into this gentleman again at the festival. He encouraged us to go to the five o’clock vespers which was an hour later. Mom was excited about going which helped me overcome any hesitation. Kimberly, my wife, was along for it too.

For forty five minutes we stood in the sanctuary and witnessed (and as best we could participated) in a ritual that was likely a jillion years old. It was in English with a few Greek portions (e.g., the Kyrie). There is really no way to explain it since there was so much that was new going on. The priests would chant most of the prayers very rapidly with lots of incense, colors, icons, candles, rituals – it was quite a lot to take in. My mom was overcome by emotion when it started up—indeed there was an immense beauty to it that was striking.

While the prayers were going on full bore, a number of congregants would randomly go up to the front and convene with one of the priests. To us it appeared to be a form of reconciliation which was later confirmed by our friend:

One of priest was hearing confessions in front of the icon. The people usually line up along the right wall and wait their turn. They then approach the priest, usually make 3 bows asking for forgiveness, and say their confession. Then the priest places his stole (representing the yoke, the burden) and says the words of forgiveness “God through Nathan the prophet forgave David his sins; and Peter shedding bitter tears. May this same God, through me, a sinner, forgive you everything in this life and in the life to come. And may he make you stand uncondemned before his awesome judgment-seat, for he is blessed unto ages of ages. Amen” and then the priest removes the stole representing the removal of the burden of sin.

On the left were a cluster of priests chanting and intoning the words of the liturgy without taking a breath. About three would trade off chanting while finger tracing what looked like a musical score set around a rotating stand. Three more would stand in the background occasionally interjecting a prayer. One young priest had his daughter in his arms—yes this Catholic priesthood is allowed to marry and have kids–and what a great legacy that man is leaving his daughter too. [Correction : qualified married men can be ordained as priests but priests cannot marry. I believe this is in accordance with the Roman Church practice too.]

Beyond gilded paneling in the front that one could scarcely see behind, voices would proclaim some of the words and doors would open and close revealing an altar surrounded by candles and icons as well—it was difficult to see. On a number of occasions one of the deacons would wave incense throwing smoke around very generously while walking around the chamber. At one point a team of men walked around baring a high cross while all the congregants tracked their movement with appropriate responsorial.

At the close, everyone was invited to receive a blessing from the priest: we held our overlapped hands open while the priests conferred a blessing—then we would kiss the back of the priest’s hand. Seemed strange, maybe a little unhygienic, but we quickly overcame our fears and went forward.

And then it was over.

And then we went home.

I think I would like to go again.