A Different Catholic Flavor

By Deborah Boudreau

“Girls, get up! We can’t be late for the Liturgy!”

Marta Rivera stirred drowsily and looked around. Then Rita Haddad popped up next to her. “Mom means it! There’s only one Liturgy in our parish each Sunday.”

Rita started for the bathroom. Marta stretched and crawled out of her sleeping bag to change. It was her first time ever spending the night at the Haddads’ house. Things were a little different here.

There was a fashion magazine on the sofa—but it was in Arabic. Mrs. Haddad fixed interesting food like stuffed grape leaves and meat pies shaped like triangles and jam made with roses. (It was actually good!) The Haddads spent more time around the dinner table than in front of the TV. And they didn’t go to a “regular” Catholic parish. They were “Melkite Greek Catholics.” What did that mean?

“It’ll be a special Liturgy today,” Mrs. Haddad said as they piled into the car. “The bishop is coming.”

They passed several Catholic churches on the way, but none of them was Rita’s parish. Finally the car pulled into a parking lot. People were greeting each other outside the domed church building. Rita leaned toward Marta. “Some of the people come from really far away, because this is the only Melkite parish in the whole state!”

The entranceway of the church was small, but there were large pictures on either side of the door. The pictures were brightly colored, but the faces looked too long, and they seemed just a bit stern. There was foreign-looking writing in the corners of the pictures.

“Icons,” Rita explained. “Wait ’til we get inside.”

There were pictures everywhere. The whole front wall was covered with a huge picture of Mary. A fence of icons stood between the pew area and the altar. “The iconostasis,” Rita said. Marta studied it carefully. The two center icons seemed to be attached to gates. One featured an angel; the other the Virgin Mary. “Do the doors open up?” she asked.

“There are four doors that open,” Rita said. “The two middle ones will be open for the whole Liturgy; the others are used, well, like doors!”

The church was beginning to fill quickly, so Rita led Marta to a pew. Mrs. Haddad had already joined the singers. Behind the icon screen, a priest and deacon stood at a side altar. “They’re cutting the bread into little pieces for Communion.” Rita explained in a whisper. “They’re saying prayers, too.”

A server came forward and opened the two middle doors. The altar was a square, heavy table covered with cloth. Hanging over it was a golden dove. “That’s where the Eucharist for the sick is kept,” Rita said, pointing to the dove. When the music started, the whole congregation turned toward the side aisle as altar boys, deacons, and priests came in. At the end of the procession was a bearded man in white vestments, with a white crown on his head. The crown had little icons instead of jewels.

“The bishop,” Rita said.

“He looks like St. Nicholas,” Marta whispered back.

The procession turned up the middle aisle, and everyone in church turned with it. The bishop held a crucifix in his hand and kept blessing all the people. Everyone sang the Glory to God.

The procession stopped in front of the open icon-doors, and the deacon began praying for people in different parts of the world. The choir sang the first response, but everybody joined in for the others. Once in a while the choir sang something Marta couldn’t understand at all. “It’s Greek,” Rita told her. Another time, the singing was in Arabic!

When it was time for the Gospel, there was another procession. The priest held the Gospel book, covered in gold and icons, high above his head. People bowed and made the Sign of the Cross when the Gospel passed their pew. Well, it is the Word of God, Marta said to herself.

“Wisdom! Stand well!” a deacon sang out. The Gospel was proclaimed. After the homily, there were more prayers.

Marta was going to sit down, but all the others remained standing. Then she saw why. A procession was coming down the side aisle. A priest held the golden chalice and plate high and led prayers.

When the priest reached the bishop, Marta knew it was time for the great Eucharistic Prayer. But it didn’t take place in the way she was used to. Instead, the bishop, deacon, and congregation seemed to all have things to do or sing. Nobody knelt down at all. Marta followed the prayers in the book and chanted along with the others.

They had some nice ways of talking to God. The prayers kept saying how holy God is. The bishop repeated Jesus’ words from the Last Supper: “This is my Body.” Everyone bowed with him and sang “Amen.” “This is my Blood.” Again, a deep bow and a sung “Amen.” The deacon lifted the Holy Gifts while the bishop prayed for the coming of God’s Spirit.

The Our Father was regular, except that it was sung. The people held their arms out while they prayed. Then the bishop, still at the altar, lifted the Eucharist and declared: “Holy things are for the holy.” It was the invitation to Communion.

Just as in Marta’s parish, people moved up the center aisle to receive the Eucharist. The bishop dipped the Body of Christ into the chalice and placed the Eucharist on each person’s tongue. Then the person bowed, made the Sign of the Cross, and returned to the pew. Even tiny children didn’t get a pat on the head or a blessing: they received Communion, too!

“Babies receive Communion?” Marta whispered to Rita. She was surprised to hear that Melkite Catholics receive First Eucharist at their baptism. They are confirmed, then, too—only it’s called “Chrismation.”

To receive Communion, Marta noticed Rita cross her arms over her chest—right over left. She did the same. Like Rita, she held her tongue out so the bishop could safely place the Eucharist on it. It was raised—and chewy, like ordinary bread!

After a blessing, it was time to go. Instead of moving to the exit, though, everyone went up the middle aisle. People kissed the bishop’s cross. Marta kissed the cross, too, and then turned to go, but a server held a basket in front of her. There were good-sized pieces of bread in it. Was it Communion again?

“This is antidoron,” the server said. “The bread that wasn’t used for the Eucharist.” Marta ate hers as she and Rita walked to meet Mrs. Haddad at the back of the church.

“So what do you think about our Divine Liturgy?” Mrs. Haddad asked.

“It’s really different,” Marta admitted. “But the important things are the same. Are all the people from your country?”

“Many are from Lebanon, like me; others are from Syria, Jordan, Palestine, Iraq, Egypt….”

Marta thought about it. “It’s kind of like an international menu—the Catholic faith is the same, but the flavors are a little different.”

It was going to be fun discovering the other flavors of Catholicism out there!

Eastern Catholic Churches
There’s more than one way to be Catholic.

Most North Americans are familiar with the “Western” style of Catholicism. But more than half a million Catholics in the United States and Canada belong to an “Eastern” Catholic Church. Their beliefs and sacraments are the same as the Western Catholics, and they are joined in faith with the Pope, the bishop of Rome and successor of Saint Peter. There is one Western (or “Latin”) Church, but there are many Eastern Churches. Most are headed by important bishops called Patriarchs.

Eastern Churches have their own ways of expressing the faith and celebrating the sacraments. (You can read about the liturgy of the Melkites, for example, in the story beginning on page 22.)

As the Gospel was first preached and sacraments began to be celebrated among different peoples, the Church itself took on their music, art, languages—and even something of their outlooks on life. Gradually, two main patterns emerged.

In Rome and the Latin-speaking areas of the world, the Christian liturgies took on Roman qualities. Like the Roman-style buildings they were celebrated in, the liturgies were simple, direct, and orderly. The style became known as the “Roman rite.” The Roman way of teaching the faith and celebrating the sacraments quickly spread throughout Europe.

In Constantinople (now Istanbul, Turkey) and other Greek-speaking areas, the liturgy was known as “heaven on earth.” It was a holy mystery, taking place behind the “iconostasis.” The chants, processions, blessings, and incense of this “Byzantine” (BIZ-en-teen) liturgy spread through Eastern lands, all the way up to Russia. Beautiful Eastern liturgies also developed in Syria, Lebanon, Iraq, Egypt, and Armenia.

All the Church’s liturgies are equal in value. The lovely and ancient rites of the Eastern Churches are one way the Church shows that God’s greatness can never be fully proclaimed. It is just too awesome!

(See Catechism of the Catholic Church, #1200–1203.)