What a difference a day makes

May is wonderful. The sun was shining. The mud was drying. The wind was blowing. The mud was drying. The birds were singing. The mud was drying. The flowers were blooming. The mud was drying. The mosquitoes were biting? Not yet. May is good.

After looking at yesterday’s post, I realized that the red walls in the bathroom look a little purple—almost reminds me of Minnesota Vikings purple. Am I being insensitive? We have visitors from the east arriving in nary a day. Maybe I should have painted the walls green and gold.

I see that I received notice from the Warden today. I thought I would get a quick response in giving her that title. It was meant as a joke, but I think it’s growing on me, especially with the Swansmith’s reference to the keys of my heart. How romantic. Speaking of love and bells and . . . . .

More thoughts on bells and whistles—I mean smells. One thing that caught my attention during the Eucharist was the priest addressing each recipient of the cup. As the priest held the spoon to give each person his share, he asked a question something like: do you (fill in name here) come to this altar having confessed your sins. . . . I was amazed that of the 250+ people in attendance he knew almost every person’s name. For those whose names he didn’t know he would pause and let the individual fill in the blank with their name.

Second observation: Orthodox cross themselves more than Roman Catholics. And I heard somewhere that they cross themselves differently than Catholics. I was not observant enough to pick up on the variation. It seemed to me also that the crossing occurred not only as an amen to prayer or as a gesture toward God, but it seems to be an interaction between congregants and the priest and each other, almost like giving someone else a nod, wink, or handshake.

Third observation: Similar to Catholics, the Bread and Wine are central to the service. Much time and care are given to properly administering the sacrament. As the faithful are receiving the “spoon” from the priest, another member of the congregation was there with a special towel to hold under the chin of the one receiving the wine. Of course the non-sacramental Protestant line has always been that ‘having communion every week instead of one a month makes it less special.’ I guess that’s possible, but I think we miss a lot when we relegate the Lord’s Supper to its current status in most low-church settings.

Fourth and final (for now) observation: Jesus was central not only in the Eucharist, but also in the iconography. Right above of heads Christ looked down upon us from His position in the middle of the dome. And as I looked forward, a Lord’s Supper type layout (ala Leonardo da Vinci) with the twelve disciples was across the altar area. Each disciple had his own half life-size cut-out, like a painted silhouette with the ever-present halo-like circle around his head. Each one that is, except Judas. He doesn’t get the halo. But Jesus is there in the middle of it all, overseeing the current day’s remembrance.

I don’t know how high-church I could ever be. It doesn’t go well with my limited wardrobe. But I did have a wonderful visit, and it helped open up my eyes (and nose) to a deeper appreciation for the One who gave everything for me.