The narthex is the entrance area of an Orthodox church, located at the western end of the building. It’s the space you walk into before entering the main body of the church where everyone stands for worship.
Think of it as a threshold. Not quite the outside world, but not quite the nave either. Some churches have two narthexes, an outer one and an inner one, separated by doors or columns. Most smaller parishes like ours just have one.
A Space Between Two Worlds
The narthex isn’t just practical architecture. It carries meaning.
In the early Church, this is where catechumens waited during parts of the Divine Liturgy they weren’t yet permitted to attend. Penitents stood here too. The unbaptized, the not-yet-ready, those working their way back after serious sin. They could hear the prayers and smell the incense, but they couldn’t yet enter fully into the worship of the baptized faithful.
That history shapes how we understand the space today. The narthex represents the created world, blessed by God, called “very good” at the beginning, but fallen and not yet fully restored. When you move from the narthex into the nave, you’re enacting something. You’re moving from the world into the Church, from the everyday into the Kingdom.
The whole church building moves west to east. Narthex to nave to altar. World to Church to Heaven. It’s the Christian life in architecture.
What Happens There Now
These days, the narthex is where you light candles. Where you stop to venerate icons before entering the nave. Where you catch your breath after rushing in from the parking lot and remember why you came.
It’s a preparation space. You can say a quick prayer, make the sign of the cross, collect yourself. Some people arrive early and spend time in the narthex praying before the service starts. Others slip in late and pause there before joining the congregation.
Certain services actually begin in the narthex. Baptisms start there with the exorcism prayers, the priest faces west (toward the narthex doors and the darkness beyond) and commands Satan to depart. The betrothal in a wedding happens in the narthex too, before the couple processes into the nave for the crowning. It’s the place of beginnings, of crossing over.
You’ll also find the candle stand there, usually with a collection box. Lighting a candle isn’t magic, but it’s a prayer made visible. You light one for someone you’re praying for, or as an offering of thanksgiving, and the flame keeps burning your prayer even after you’ve entered the nave and the service has started.
Why It Matters
If you’re visiting for the first time, don’t feel like you need to rush through the narthex. Take a minute. Look at the icons. Light a candle if you want to. Nobody’s going to think you’re doing it wrong.
And if you’ve been Orthodox for years, the narthex is worth reconsidering. We can get so used to spaces that we stop noticing what they mean. Every time you walk from that entrance into the nave, you’re acting out your Baptism again. You’re leaving the world and entering the Church. You’re moving from west to east, from darkness toward the light that shines from the altar.
Even in a metal building in Southeast Texas without columns or Byzantine arches, that movement still happens. The narthex is still the threshold. You’re still crossing over every Sunday, still moving from one reality into another. The architecture might be humble, but the meaning doesn’t change.
