The priest goes behind the iconostasis because that’s where the altar is. The sanctuary behind that icon-covered screen is the holiest space in the church, and the altar is where the Eucharist is consecrated.
If you’re visiting an Orthodox church for the first time, this can feel strange. You’re used to seeing everything. Most Protestant churches in Southeast Texas put the preacher front and center with nothing between him and the congregation. But Orthodox worship works differently, and there’s good reason for it.
The Sanctuary as Holy of Holies
The area behind the iconostasis is called the sanctuary or altar. It corresponds to the Holy of Holies in the Old Testament Temple, that inner chamber where God’s presence dwelt and where only the high priest could enter once a year on the Day of Atonement. The nave where you stand represents the Holy Place. The iconostasis connects them.
We’re not trying to recreate the Temple. Christ fulfilled all that. But the pattern matters because it teaches us something true about approaching God. He’s not our buddy. He’s holy, and holiness requires reverence.
When the priest goes behind the iconostasis, he’s entering that sacred space to do sacred work. Before the Liturgy even begins, he prepares the bread and wine at a side table called the prothesis. He cuts the Lamb (the portion that will become Christ’s Body), places particles for the Theotokos and the saints, and commemorates the living and the dead. This happens out of sight because it’s preparatory, prayerful work.
Later, during the Divine Liturgy itself, the priest stands at the altar to pray the anaphora, the great Eucharistic prayer. He speaks the words of institution. He calls down the Holy Spirit. The bread and wine become the Body and Blood of Christ. This happens behind the iconostasis because it’s the Church’s central mystery, and mysteries aren’t theatrical performances.
Not Hiding, Revealing
I know what you’re thinking if you grew up Baptist or at one of the big non-denominational churches off I-10. This looks like the priest is hiding something. Why can’t we see what’s happening?
Fair question. But the iconostasis doesn’t hide. It reveals at the right moments.
The Royal Doors in the center of the screen open and close throughout the service. They open for the Little Entrance when the Gospel book is carried out, because Christ the Word comes to His people. They open for the Great Entrance when the prepared gifts are carried in procession through the church before being placed on the altar. They open for Communion when Christ gives Himself to us. The pattern is preparation, then revelation. Hiddenness, then gift.
Think of it this way. You don’t watch your wife get dressed for your anniversary dinner. The closed door isn’t secrecy. It’s anticipation. When she walks out, the reveal matters more because of the preparation you didn’t see. The iconostasis works something like that, though the analogy limps. The priest isn’t performing for us. He’s offering the sacrifice to the Father on our behalf, and we participate through our prayers, our responses, our presence. When the gifts are brought out and we receive Communion, we’re receiving what was prepared in holiness.
Windows to Heaven
The iconostasis itself is covered with icons. Christ. The Theotokos. The Forerunner. Archangels. Saints. These aren’t decorations. They’re windows to heaven, and they remind you that when the priest goes behind that screen, he’s not going somewhere distant. He’s entering the heavenly reality that’s always present but usually veiled from our sight.
St. John Chrysostom, the fourth-century bishop of Constantinople whose Liturgy we usually celebrate, wrote about how the angels surround the altar during the Eucharist. We can’t see them. But they’re there. The iconostasis makes that visible by showing us the saints and angels who worship with us. The priest goes behind it to join that heavenly liturgy, to stand at the threshold between earth and heaven and offer the gifts.
This isn’t some innovation. The early Christians understood the Eucharist as participation in heavenly worship. The book of Hebrews talks about Christ entering the true Holy of Holies in heaven with His own blood. Our priests don’t do that, obviously. Christ did it once for all. But when the priest stands at our altar, he’s standing at the place where heaven and earth meet, where Christ makes Himself present to us in the mystery of the Eucharist.
What This Means for You
If you keep coming to St. Michael, you’ll get used to the rhythm. You’ll learn when to expect the doors to open. You’ll start to feel the anticipation when the priest is behind the iconostasis praying, and the joy when he emerges with the chalice. You’ll realize you’re not being excluded. You’re being invited into something bigger than a preacher explaining a text. You’re being invited into the mystery.
And eventually, if you’re chrismated and become Orthodox, you’ll walk up to receive Communion, and the priest will bring the chalice out from behind that iconostasis and place the Body and Blood of Christ in your mouth. What was prepared in hiddenness becomes your food. What was veiled becomes your life.
That’s why the priest goes behind the iconostasis. Not to keep you out, but to prepare the gift that brings you in.
