Yesterday evening, the Wednesday of the fifth week of the Forty Days, the communion service called "of the pre-sanctified gifts," the western bronze doors of the temple wide open to the evening sun, streaming in and falling on the eastern wall of icons, causing them to glow fiercely golden in our eyes, as we stood patiently awaiting, waiting for… Him, the Lord, the promised One, to come and "stay with us, for evening is at hand, and the day is past."
I was taken by surprise. One of the acolytes, a very tall, black-robed, middle-aged brother with a bushy beard and hair tied back in a pony-tail, came up to me where I was standing, and said, "Brother, would you assist with the cloth?" I stepped into the aisle behind him as we turned to the east, facing the holy gates, while the deacon stood in the gateway, raising aloft the pre-sanctified gifts, announcing the Presence and inviting the people to come forward to receive them. We bowed slightly during the invitation, then I followed the acolyte up and took my place to the right side of Deacon David, telling him that I had never assisted before. He said, "Just hold the cloth under their chins, so none of the holy gifts should fall to the floor."
What a wonder! There I was, and all I could do was smile, as they came forward, young, old, tall, short, Greek, non-Greek, to the deacon who held the jewelled cup and the golden spoon. What impressed me was that we kept bobbing up and down as we adjusted our height (the deacon and I are both tall men) to fit the height of each one coming to receive. I loved it when little Angeliki, a tiny girl of about three, walked up and we had to practically kneel before her, to get the holy spoon into that beautiful, eager little mouth. "The handmaiden of God, Angeliki, receives the Body and Blood of Christ, to the remission of sins, and life eternal…" I couldn't help whispering "Ameen!" after each one received the holy gifts and wiped his or her lips on the cloth I held carefully under their chins. And still, they came, the deacon blessed and fed, and I smiled and whispered. What a wonder!
I thought back. Many years ago, at a small country church, I was grabbed along with one or two of my sons, out of the congregation where we were standing, and handed tall candlesticks to hold during the "great entrance." On another occasion, at a small church on Christmas Day, in the mountains of British Columbia, the presbyter arrived a little late. The people were all standing, waiting. I heard the father call out, "Katerina! Katerina! Where is the cantor? Do we have a cantor?" I didn't hear Katerina's response. A second or two later, the priest came out through the holy gates and asked, "Can anyone here chant the service with me?" No one came forward. I knew many of the chants by heart (in Greek), and so with youthful naiveté I unselfconsciously said, "Yes, father, I think I can chant the service with you." So he said, "Let's begin." We started with the "Glory to God in the highest, on earth peace and goodwill toward men." Father chanted with me at the cantor stand, probably to get me "jump-started." Then he went back behind the icon wall, and did "the priest's part" of the divine service. When all was over, I went back and stood with my family in the congregation. Father came out, looked at me and said, "Who are you? Where did you come from? How do you know how to chant?" I said, "We are from Holy Trinity, Portland, Oregon. I learned to chant by listening to Father Elias." The presbyter became animated, "Well, Father Elias has done a good job of training you, then, didn't he, my brothers and sisters? And here the Lord has sent these strangers into our midst, so that I could have someone to help me chant the service!" Later, I found out that the cantor in this small community was unable to come to the service because he was old and sick. So, the Lord gives us opportunities to serve Him, and we just have to respond to His gracious call.
Back to the evening service, and its aftermath…
We have a light supper together in the hall. There were more than the usual number of people present, at the service and, now, at the supper. I was already seated with my wife, and then Presbytera Maria and her children sat with us at table. Soon, Father Jerry came and sat beside me. He would rather just finish off the plate of his young daughter, instead of standing in line for his own plate. She hardly touched her food. People were still coming in and getting in line.
Suddenly, here comes Father Paul. Looking around at all the people and the available seats and tables, "Deacon! Deacon, we need more tables and places!" Instantly, my wife stands up and tugs me, "Let's go and get more tables!" Father Jerry and I go off with the Deacon David and Father Paul into the adjacent hall to fetch tables. My wife, seeing that we've got it covered, sits back down and continues her supper and fellowship with Presbytera Maria. We bring three more tables and a dozen and a half chairs. Others, guests and children, run to the kitchen to bring place settings and cups. In just a moment, everyone was seated, feasting on the modest supper of rice pilaf, salad, and oranges… and fellowship in the Lord. This is what God's House is all about.
How good, how delightful it is, for all to live together like brothers!
— Psalm 133:1
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