You’ll probably hear some Arabic during services, taste baklava at coffee hour, and notice a warmth of hospitality that feels distinctly Middle Eastern. But you won’t need to speak Arabic or know anything about Lebanese culture to belong here.
The Antiochian Orthodox Church in America grew from immigrants who came from Syria, Lebanon, Palestine, and Jordan starting in the 1870s. They brought their faith and their culture with them. Over the decades, parishes shifted to English while keeping threads of their heritage woven into parish life. What you encounter today depends on your specific parish. Some use more Arabic than others. Most are predominantly English with occasional Arabic phrases or hymns.
Language in the Liturgy
You might hear Arabic responses during the Divine Liturgy, especially for certain hymns. The choir might chant “Amin” instead of “Amen” or sing a communion hymn in Arabic with a melody that sounds different from anything you’ve heard in a Baptist or Methodist church. It’s modal, melismatic, and haunting.
Don’t panic if you can’t follow it. Most parishes print translations in the bulletin or provide service books with both languages. The sermon will be in English. The core of the service will be intelligible to you. If a parish still does significant portions in Arabic, they usually offer an English-only Liturgy at a different time or explain things carefully for newcomers.
Some parishes use almost no Arabic at all. Others keep it for tradition’s sake, especially if older members grew up speaking it at home. Ask when you visit. People are used to the question.
The Food
Coffee hour after Liturgy often features Middle Eastern pastries. Baklava, obviously. Maybe ma’amoul or knafeh if someone’s grandmother is still baking. Feast days bring out the full spread: grape leaves, kibbeh, tabbouleh, hummus. Parish festivals can look like a Lebanese wedding reception, with whole tables of food and sometimes dabke dancing.
This isn’t just ethnic nostalgia. It’s hospitality, which is a deeply Orthodox value and also a deeply Middle Eastern one. The overlap is real. You’ll be fed, probably more than you expected. People will insist you take a plate home.
Names and Saints
You’ll meet people named Elias, Maroun, Ephrem, Rafka. The parish might be named for St. George, St. Elias, St. Nicholas, or St. Mary. Some of these saints are universally venerated. Others, like St. Rafka or St. Charbel, are particularly beloved in the Antiochian tradition because they’re from Lebanon and their stories are woven into the community’s memory.
This can feel foreign at first if you grew up in Southeast Texas where everyone’s named Matthew, Sarah, or Hunter. But these are Christian names, biblical names, saints’ names. You’ll get used to them.
The Hospitality
Middle Eastern Christians are serious about welcoming strangers. It’s cultural, but it’s also Gospel. Expect people to introduce themselves, ask where you’re from, invite you to sit with them. Expect someone to explain what’s happening during the service if you look lost. Expect to be invited to someone’s house for lunch.
This can feel overwhelming if you’re used to slipping into the back pew at First Baptist and leaving quietly. It’s not pushiness. It’s how community works in this tradition. If it’s too much, you can say so. But most inquirers find it disarming in a good way.
What You Don’t Need to Worry About
You don’t need to learn Arabic. You don’t need to like Middle Eastern food (though you should at least try the baklava). You don’t need to have any connection to the Middle East or know anything about Lebanese history or Syrian politics.
The Antiochian Archdiocese has been intentionally American for decades. Metropolitan Philip Saliba, who led the Archdiocese for years, pushed hard for English services, youth programs, and outreach to converts. Many Antiochian parishes are now majority converts from Protestant or Catholic backgrounds. The heritage is real, but it’s not a barrier.
What you will need is a willingness to enter into the fullness of Orthodox worship and life. That’s the same whether you’re in an Antiochian parish, a Greek parish, or a Russian one. The cultural flavoring is just that, flavoring. The substance is the faith once delivered to the saints.
If you visit St. Michael’s or any Antiochian parish and feel uncertain about what’s cultural and what’s theological, ask. People know the difference. They’ve been navigating it their whole lives. And they want you to feel at home, because in the Church, you are.
