St. Irene Byzantine Catholic Church

http://www.saintirene.org/

This is likely going to be the most different of the catholic churches I will visit during this process. It is not a Roman Catholic Church, it is a Byzantine one. Although I suppose in many ways it is similar to the Greek or Russian Orthodox churches, it is -- unlike the orthodox churches -- in communion with the Roman Church. That means its clerics answer to the Roman hierarchy at some point and they recognize the primacy of the Pope. It also means that as a Roman I can receive communion in a Byzantine church and a Byzantine can receive communion in a Roman church.

I arrived at the service at 10 am. It is relatively unattractive from the outside. The building was once a Roman church and dates to 1923. However, it was totally remodeled in 1958 and has cheap siding on its robin's egg blue exterior.

I went inside and was pleased that it is far more attractive inside. However, it was almost empty. The church seats about 250 and there were only about 20 people there. (After about 15 minutes the number of worshipers doubled to about 40.) The alter is screened off by see through fencing upon which are hung icons, written on wooden boards shaped like small surfboards. I took a liturgy book from the back of the church and I was glad I did. Using it I was able to follow along and participate in the service.

While the service is mostly in English, there were plenty of prayers and responses in a Slavic language I am told is called Old Church Slavonic. In fact, as best as I could tell, we sang the Our Father first in English and then a second time in a different melody in Old Church Slavonic. About half the parishioners looked as if they could speak a Slavic language and their pronunciation of Slavonic sounded good to me. I could not find any of the Slavonic parts written in the liturgy book, however.

Most of the service was sung rather than recited. Before the first reading began, a parishioner stood in the middle of the aisle facing the alter and chanted something in Old Church Slavonic for a minute or two. The first reading was done by another parishioner also standing in the middle of the aisle. Then the priest , who was visiting from Washington state, read the gospel.

The priest's sermon was about twice as long as I am used to in a Roman (Latin rite) church. It was interesting, however. It was about the tension between church and state, especially as to abortion and gay marriage. He mentioned how in Canada one can be accused of a hate crime for saying that homosexuality is wrong.

Following many unfamiliar prayers sung from the liturgy book, I decided to take communion. Before reaching the priest however, there was an icon of Mary (the Theotokos as they say in the eastern churches) that people venerated by kissing. I, not being fond of kissing icons (or crosses on Good Friday), failed to participate in that ritual. Not out of any theological reluctance -- it is just embarrassing for me to kiss inanimate objects. I quickly got enough embarrassment to last a week, however.

I watched closely as the others received communion. The priest was using tongs or a spoon to place the host in the mouth of the communicant. each communicant was lowering his or her head a little to make this easier. At one point the visiting priest stopped and brusquely admonished everyone not to kneel but to stand up and to not touch the spoon. When I got closer I saw that the host was in small cubes in a red liquid (consecrated wine) and I was unsure whether I was to take it on my tongue or mouth. I positioned my head at what I believe was the correct level and opened my mouth, leaving my tongue somewhere between forward and back. The priest told me to tilt my head back and the host fell from my mouth back into the chalice! Then, in a firmer and what was to me a harsh voice he again told me to tilt my head back. I tilted it back until I felt it was almost too far and feeling foolish and embarrassed I successfully received the wet host into my mouth this time. Filled with a sense of shame and embarrassment, I returned to my seat.

Afterwards, a parishioner invited me to join the others for coffee, but feeling like quite the outsider, I declined. If I had brought a friend perhaps it would have been fun. Another parishioner smiled warmly at me.

Overall, I found the parishioners friendly and welcoming. The service, being so different, would take some getting used to. It lasted about an hour and forty-five minutes. I would definitely go back.