Impressions of a holy service

As I approached the church, I dug in my bag for the red scarf I hoped was there. Though it wasn't absolutely necessary, I wanted to cover my head, as is the custom in Russian Orthodox services. I found it and draped it over my hair, debating on tying it behind my neck, as so many with shorter scarves had done, or bringing it in front of shoulders. I settled on letting it fall in front of my shoulders and draping one of the ends across my chest and over my shoulder. As I stepped through the doorway and made my way back towards the main area of the church, I heard the priest chanting the words of the service. As I stepped into the room, a choir joined in. Their beautiful voices filled the cathedral and echoed and arched across the high ceilings. The smell of wax candle pervaded the room. A woman was gathering those that had already burned down until there was almost nothing left of them. She extinguished the flame and tossed them into a small box sitting nearby. She would then replace each one with a newly lit candle. As she finished with one set, she shuffled to the next, only a few feet away in some cases.

I walked passed the masses that had congregated in the back and middle of the hall. I moved forward and to the side, suddenly wishing I had worn a long skirt instead of slacks that day. I saw a woman pass me in much the same clothing and a girl walk passed in jeans, reassuring me my choice of clothing was acceptable.

I looked around me, letting the atmosphere take hold of my senses. In front of me hung several framed icons of Mary, Christ, and Russian Saints. Three small, beautifully decorated lanterns were suspended in front of them. A young girl approached, three fingers pressed together, and gracefully touched her forehead, her chest, her right shoulder, and then her left, differing from the way Catholics cross themselves. She then leaned forward and pressed her lips to the icon. She stepped back and approached the next, bowed her head slightly, and repeated the ritual.

My eyes moved from this girl and drifted towards the ceilings where beautiful depictions of scenes from the Saviors life could be seen. Above the large paintings, in golden lettering, was a decription of the painting, often with a reference to the scripture it came from in the Bible. All were written in an elegant Old Church Slavonic script, from which Russian came. I was grateful for classes where we had studied the script, as it enabled me to read some of the passages. A scene representing Christ with the woman at the well particularly drew my eye, and before leaving the room, I stopped to look once again and ponder on its beauty.

The service was beautiful in the dimly-lit cathedral, with the many candles burning down to small stubs. The natural light coming in through the windows lit the upper half of the room. I turned to go, almost not wanting to leave the place, with its beautiful murals and the sounds of the choir resounding through the hall.