#bolshevik

Sunday 16th March 2025 - Sunday of St. Gregory Palamas. Russian Orthodox Divine Liturgy.

It has taken me quite a few months to finally be able to experience the Divine Liturgy in person. This was actually my third attempt at travelling to London; previous attempts failed due to being struck with sudden (and in one case, very serious) illness. It became obvious that the powers of darkness were trying to stop me from attending a Divine Liturgy because they knew that if I did, I would never be the same again. They were right.

As I entered the church, I was immediately struck with a sense of wonder and stillness. The lights had yet to be turned on so all of the icons and relics were illuminated by lots of thin beeswax tapers. There was an incredibly long line for confession, something I had rarely, if ever, seen as a Roman Catholic. After venerating the icons of Our Lord and the various saints that are particularly venerated at this church - St. Seraphim of Sarov, the Romanov Royal Martyr's etc - I stood in silence, allowing myself time to gaze at the iconostasis and the incredible artwork that covered every inch of every wall and ceiling. No matter where I looked, Christ and His saints were there.

As the time for the Liturgy to start came closer, more and more people filed in, offering reverences according to their own custom. The bells start to ring to announce the arrival of the Bishop. We watch him being vested and I am immediately struck with the physical and metaphorical weight of his office. Many bows and sign of the cross followed and continued throughout the entire three hour liturgy (standing). All my senses were engaged - the sight of the lights, candles, the icons and the wonderful vestments; the sound of the choir singing in Church Slavonic, the bells attached to the censers, the gentle murmuring of responses from the laity; the incredible bouquet of scents from the incense that is constantly wafting throughout the temple; the feel of the gentle heat from the many candles, the weight on my feet the longer I stood; the only sense that wasn't engaged was taste, however this will soon change once I am able to receive Holy Communion - and what a sweet taste it will be! Receiving a morsel of the Antidoron at the end of the liturgy was a privilege in itself, to be sure, yet the sweetness of this blessed bread is only a shadow of what is to come.

My mind is at ease and I gently recite the Jesus Prayers whenever the liturgy is said in Church Slavonic (about 85% of the time) for although I couldn't understand what was being said, I prayed that God would illumine my heart all the same. As the liturgy goes on, I am constantly struck by the feeling of awe, wonder and sanctity of the place. I was no longer in London, nor was I on Earth; I was being transported to Heaven, to worship among the angels and saints. I felt unworthy to be present, yet I was not afraid or despondent. The feeling of unworthiness increased my plea for mercy, forgiveness and repentance all the more. Like the Prodigal Son, I was journeying back to the Father who was waiting for me, arms open wide, ready to receive me.

At various times, when the people were joining their voices with the clergy to sing the Creed and the Lord's Prayer, I had shivers up and down my spine. My back, legs and feet were growing tired but I didn't care. I was ready to do it all over again.

Seeing the people line up for Holy Communion, watching just how reverent they were, I yearned all the more to receive this greatest of Gifts. Being able to kiss the cross and receive a blessing from the Bishop once the liturgy was finished was also a great blessing. I wanted to sit at the feet of the Bishop and his clergy and learn all I could from them.

My dear friend gave me a tour of the lower church, showing me various icons and relics that hailed from Russia and communist ruled nations - all smuggled out in order to protect these precious and holy images. This church is a haven, a refuge for the things that were threatened with total destruction. And I knew that one day soon, when I am fully received into Orthodoxy, this church would become my own haven and refuge.

Leaving the church, my mind and heart were still filled with wonder but I experienced a taste of blessed stillness, the peace of Heaven itself.