Moscow Meanderings: Holier than thou

On Sunday I went to church for the first time in about 10 years. Not what you're thinking. I attended a Russian Orthodox service. Growing up in a largely Protestant country, I really had little idea of what it'd be like. I've been in plenty of Orthodox churches, but never to a service. From a purely architectural standpoint, you can guess things are going to run a little differently than in a Catholic service (or any derivative thereof). First thing you notice walking into a central plan or "Greek cross" church is that there are no pews and no aisles, as are common in the basilica plan churches of the Catholic world. This is because there is no sitting in an Orthodox service, unless you are really old and infirm and then there are a few chairs against the walls. A central plan is exactly that; you enter the church and immediately you can see the center, usually with one or several domes above, the iconostasis (see post on Kremlin) directly in front of you, and on either side there are places with icons and candle holders so that you may pray to this and that saint, and light a candle to them. You can sort of image it as a theater, and the iconostasis is the curtain. The main actors in the service, the clergy, come in and out of doors in the iconostasis again and again during the ritual. So there you are, standing in a crowd of people, watching the show.
And it is one hell of a show (maybe I shouldn't say hell in a post about church?). Anyways, Orthodox ritual is very sensual. Imagine, you are in a smallish room, with dark and hidden corners (thanks to Byzantine architectural influences) and there is the sparkle of gold, sumptuous reds and blues and flickering candle light bouncing off the glass of these highly stylized, stern looking icons with their waxy-looking complexions, encased in jewels and pounded sliver. The priest and his assistants are dressed in long robes with gold threading, and we even had a bishop present because it was the feast day of St. Nicholas. You could pick him out by the crystal-encrusted crown he was wearing. They come in and out of the iconostasis, with it's frowning saints staring down at you. One waves a lantern on a chain, releasing the sweet smell of smoking incense. They are raising a thick bible, or candle holders with two or three candles, precariously crossed, and blessing the people. The priest chants phrases from the text, the choir, hidden somewhere, responds in turn. On some secret cue, people around you are crossing themselves and bowing. And then again. And again. Meanwhile, people are moving around you, getting closer, to the action, or going here and there with candles to light for the saints.
This is really fascinating for about 45 minutes, and then you realize that they are repeating the same song and dance over and over (or at least it appears that way). Your feet start to hurt. You don't understand what's being said. No one probably does, because they aren't even speaking Russian, but old church Slavonic (think how Catholic services used to be entirely in Latin, same deal). We got to what looked like the Eucharist, because they took out the wine and bread, but then they took it away again, so, I'm not sure if people in the congregation actually get any. Then all of the sudden, everyone and their baby came out of the woodwork and went to the front to have their precious screaming bundle blessed. I realized that this was a good opportunity to make a run for it. Petr graciously let us leave, after an hour and a half of standing. I'm really not sure when it was supposed to end. Maybe those people are still there, crossing themselves and bowing. As long as I'm not with them.
The cutest thing was seeing all of the little girls with their headscarves on (women must cover their heads, men uncover). One was about a year old and she was running around looking like a precious little midget babushka. I also noticed a grandfather trying to teach his little grandson how to cross himself. The kid preferred to pick his nose and eat it, but it was a sweet little moment regardless.

On a totally unrelated topic, Petr and I went to the Starlight diner near our local metro station on Saturday. It's like a 50s American diner with chrome siding and be-glittered red and white vinyl booths. There were vintage ads for Pepsi and wide-track Pontiacs on the walls, and a flat screen playing Tom and Jerry continuously. It's a beautiful place for having a $12 hamburger. They even have snickers and oreos shakes. Pretty awesome. I mean, I'd probably rather try Uzbeki or Georgian, but sometimes it's nice to have an overpriced taste of home.