Holy Orthodox Reunion

 

The next day, Sunday, was the wedding. The ceremony was to be in the afternoon at a local Orthodox parish church. Guests of all faiths were also invited to attend the Divine Liturgy at the same church in the morning.  No way were we going to miss that.

We left our hotel just in time to get to the start of the ceremony---which isn't strictly mandatory for Orthodox faithful, and people typically come in during the ceremony. Among to the rules are that to receive Holy Communion, one must be a charismated member of a recognized Orthodox Church denomination in communion with the others, and that one must fast of both food and water from midnight until one receives the sacraments. I knew that the bride and groom would be there, and that the groom, a recent convert, would take the fasting rules seriously, and I can only assume the bride did as well.

It was childhood parish church---her family being of Syrian background, having lived in Modesto for generations. There were multiple priests officiating at the liturgy. Later we learned that one was the brother of bride, and had a parish of his own in Portland, Oregon.

The best part was that as we enterred, and waited in line in the lobby to receive bulletins from the young woman at the table, I saw my old friend Charles, whom I had not seen in over decade. He came in right behind us in line. He didn't recognize me at first. I had to tap on his shoulder, and he turned around in shock and delight, and we gave each other a big hug.

Then we went into the main part of the church. I wasn't sure they would have pews. Some orthodox churches do not, but this is a fairly modern one, and there were aisles with rows of seats (but nothing to kneel on, as one would find in a Catholic church).  The church was almost full already. Charles immediately made for a row along the far wall, where he joined his wife, who waved to me, and I saw as well my friend Karin and her husband John, who are also dear friends. 

It was the most beautiful circumstance for a reunion as I could imagine. Here we were, me and my friends, whom I had not seen in so long, and whom I thought I might never see again, and never have meaningful speech with each other if we did so. We were all together, standing in a row, in a church in Central California, facing the holy altar and listening to the same holy words that have been said since Antiquity to turn the bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ.