Yes and no. You’ll understand the words, we worship in English at St. Michael’s. But understanding what’s happening takes time.
Your first Divine Liturgy will feel foreign. Count on it. If you grew up Baptist, you’re used to announcements, three hymns, a sermon, maybe an altar call. If you’re Catholic, you know the Mass structure but you’ll notice we do things differently, leavened bread, a spoon for Communion, married priests, that icon screen separating the altar from where you’re standing. The Orthodox Liturgy is older than both traditions, and it shows.
We stand for most of the service. It runs ninety minutes, sometimes two hours on feast days. There’s incense. Lots of crossing ourselves. The priest faces east with us, not toward us. We chant instead of using instruments. If you’ve never experienced it, it can feel like you’ve walked into someone else’s family reunion where everyone knows the steps to a dance you’ve never seen.
But here’s the thing. You don’t need to understand everything your first time. Or your fifth.
What You Can Do Right Now
Grab a service book when you arrive. We keep them in the narthex. The bulletin will have page numbers. Stand near someone who looks like they know what they’re doing, not in a creepy way, just close enough to see when they cross themselves or bow. Don’t stress about getting it all right. Nobody’s grading you.
The Liturgy has a structure. First part is the Liturgy of the Catechumens, readings, Gospel, homily. That’ll feel somewhat familiar. Second part is the Liturgy of the Faithful, where we celebrate the Eucharist. The bread and wine become Christ’s Body and Blood. We believe that actually happens, not symbolically. You’ll see the priest disappear behind the iconostasis during the preparation, then process out with the gifts during what we call the Great Entrance. It’s not a show. It’s the Church doing what Christ told us to do.
You won’t receive Communion your first visit. That’s only for Orthodox Christians who’ve prepared through fasting and confession. But stick around after the dismissal and you can receive antidoron, blessed bread we share with everyone. It’s not the Eucharist, but it’s a sign of fellowship.
The Learning Curve
I’ll be honest, it takes months before the service stops feeling like drinking from a fire hose. You’ll catch phrases here and there. “Lord have mercy” comes up a lot. The Nicene Creed happens every Liturgy. The Lord’s Prayer. But there are litanies and responses and hymns that change depending on the day, the saint we’re commemorating, where we are in the church year.
Fr. Alexander Schmemann wrote that the Liturgy isn’t something we watch or even just participate in, it’s something that transforms us whether we fully grasp it or not. You’re not there to understand it like you’d understand a lecture. You’re there to be pulled into heaven’s worship, to stand with the angels and saints, to receive Christ.
That probably sounds mystical if you’re coming from a “just give me three points and a poem” church background. It is mystical. But it’s also intensely physical. You’ll smell the incense, hear the chanting, see the icons, taste the Communion bread eventually. Orthodoxy doesn’t separate body from soul the way Western Christianity sometimes does.
Practical Help
Get yourself a copy of Come, Let Us Worship by Fr. Patrick O’Grady. He’s Antiochian, and he walks you through the Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom piece by piece. It’s not expensive and it’ll answer ninety percent of your “wait, what just happened?” questions.
The Antiochian Archdiocese website has liturgical texts if you want to read through the service at home. Ancient Faith has podcasts and articles explaining the theology behind what we do. But honestly? The best teacher is just showing up. Week after week. Let it wash over you. You’ll start recognizing the patterns, the rhythms. One Sunday you’ll realize you’re saying the Creed without looking at the book.
Come early if you can, maybe fifteen minutes before the service starts. You’ll see people venerating icons, lighting candles, saying private prayers. Watch how they approach the icons, kiss, cross themselves, step back. You can do the same or just stand quietly. Either’s fine.
And if you work offshore or at the plants with a rotating schedule, talk to Fr. Michael. We get it. Half of Southeast Texas works shifts. Missing a Sunday because you’re on turnaround doesn’t make you a bad Christian. Come when you can. The Liturgy will be here.
The service will start making sense eventually, but not all at once. More like learning to love someone, you don’t understand everything about them on the first date, but you keep showing up and one day you realize you can’t imagine life without them.
