For Fuller seminary course on Eastern Orthodox Theology, I had to document my experience. Here is what I wrote.

On Sunday, May 16th, I visited St. Michael’s Orthodox Church in Kyiv, Ukraine. This was my first Orthodox liturgy service, and I was initially quite nervous driving up to the beautiful monastery grounds. I arrived 20 minutes early for the service, and immediately found myself a little lost among the network of stairs, and multiple church looking buildings. As I approached what looked to be one of the original church buildings, I still wasn’t sure I was in the place. There were several individuals gathered by the entrance, so I held my breath and walked inside like I belonged there!

I was disappointed to see a line of people gathered around what looked like a tourist-like
convenience store along the wall of this historic building. They were buying candles for the most part, but there were many other icons, and items for sale. I skipped the line, wondering where the service was? I soon realized that I wasn’t in the right church! I was in the original St. Michael’s building from the 11th Century, which had been restored a few times from fires and war, still revealing ancient icons on stone and brick walls. I highlight this because even though I wasn’t participating in a liturgy yet, I had plenty of time to enjoy the detail in the icons, and stations which included a number of very old looking relics. One particular station was lit with a dozen or so candles, displaying Christ on the hill of Golgotha.

Being in the confines of a much smaller, more intimate setting of the original church, I was able to pay attention to the believers as they worked around the various stations. I was noticing the ways in which they crossed themselves, some once, some three times. Some walked through briskly, as if they were completing an easy test, while others lingered for ten minutes, and seemed to be sincerely praying.

Though I’ve never really understood the lighting of the candles, and was initially unimpressed with the commercial aspect of churches selling them simultaneously inside the buildings, I experienced, I think, the Spirit of God at one of the stations. As I stared, mesmerized by the candles, I considered that each candle did in fact represent a living soul, valuable and made in the image of God. I felt a connection to them, their ongoing prayer, heard and bringing about action in the heaven-lies. How many prayers have been offered here? Over how many centuries? I was thankful for this moment as the Spirit encouraged me that my prayers are not over necessarily when I think they are over, but echo in the eternal heart of our loving Father.

As I left the functional museum, for lack of a better word, I then approached the massive, golden domed Church of St. Michael’s. I felt more confident entering this colossal structure after having spent time in the little Church. I was ready for the continuous crossing gestures, and visual feast that was awaiting me. This time, I was definitely in the right place. You could hear angelic, perfectly pitched harmonies, in minors floating across the entire landscape as you approached the building. At first, I honestly thought there were speakers somewhere, but after searching for them, realized these gorgeous sounds were coming from the church itself, one high definition speaker!

I was determined to get in without being noticed, but that was next to impossible. As I walked in the church, I entered directly into the nave. The magnificently detailed and wooden framed iconostasis was directly to my left, and the Priest was chanting something and holding a large Bible. The Word of God proceeding from eternity, through the barrier of material reality, and into the world of Creation. I had some catching up to do, and was late!

As I looked for the safest place to stand, I worked my way to the back of the Church, and
the music was even louder. The choir, on the second story balcony, were out of sight, and I
could barely count ten of them. Yet, the magnificent sounds flooded every inch of the cathedral. Where were they all hiding? Can this sound be coming from only a handful of voices? It was refreshing to think that the Orthodox singers were serving the Church, truly, not performing in front of it.

For the first twenty minutes, I honestly don’t remember what was taking place at the front,
because I was engaged in looking at the massive murals and trying to isolate particulars within many gospel stories. There was Lazarus to my right, and Christ the infant holding a scroll on the lap of the Theotokos. The visuals, combined with the surround sound angelic choir, worth the price of admission! I engaged in a few crossing gestures throughout the service, but found liberty to just open my hands, close my eyes at times, and feel my feelings.

Occasionally I could hear someone near me singing along, but for the most part, the choir engulfed all the voices. About half way through, I began to pick up on more of the liturgy. The iconostasis was at times hiding us onlookers from what was taking place in the back. Doors opening, declarations, and chantings intermittently left me wondering, as a simple onlooker, what are they doing back there that could be taking so long? The Eucharist, as I’ve learned, is being prepared, the central event which will culminate eventually in the invitation breaking through the eternal hidden realms, into concrete material reality for the Church, in the Person of Jesus Christ and His life, death and resurrection were clearly central to the service.

Finally, after a lot of singing, and a short sermon-like encouragement from a much younger man dressed in black, the Priest and his helpers, who were dressed in red and white, presented the bread and wine. Because of Covid, I can only assume, the wine was dispensed to each person on a napkin, which the believer would quickly touch with their lips, or suck in an effort to consume some of it. It was a strange site! The children went first, and then adults, but I would estimate only 30% of the crowd actually took communion. It was over fairly quickly.

After the Eucharist, an offering box was passed around, and almost everyone gave a monetary gift of some kind. It was the one familiar part of the service for this foreigner, everyone needs money! After this, another priest came out with a bucket of water, and what looked like a small wooden whip. I backed up, because I’ve seen this take place in my home town along our river at different events. The priest very liberally doused the congregants with water, spraying it in many different directions and chanting something I didn’t understand. There were a few smiles among some ladies that received a double portion!

Before everyone exited the building, I noticed a young man kneeling in the corner, by a statue of a small cross. He remained kneeling for quite some time. When he stood to his feet, he dried his eyes quickly, and left. It touched me. He has been obviously repenting, or deeply moved in a time of prayer that was sincere and heartfelt. I was encouraged to see this, because with all of the external focus on visuals and sounds, I was honestly curious who was being present and not simply outwardly performing rituals. This man was encountering God through his posture, his prayer, his emotions, and it seemed to breathe a fresh wind of hope in my perspective towards Ukrainians long and difficult heritage.

I really enjoyed my first liturgy. I recognize that to engaged the service more deeply, that I need to read over a full liturgical service in English. I also would like to attend a Russian Orthodox service, which I still have my reservations about. The Ukrainian service felt bright, the illuminated building, the bright priestly clothing, even a few smiling faces! I was anticipating more of a dirge-vibe, a somber procession of rituals, but there was surprising hope and enough continuity in my own faith to feel welcome in this other-worldly place.

Fun with drone last week! Let’s get some registrations and sponsors!

Introduction 

In this paper, I will consider the Orthodox Christian understanding and practice of water baptism. The sacramental act of baptism in the life of most believers plays an important role in the individuals personal commitment towards Christ. However, as we will see, the Orthodox Church lays claim to both a unique pattern and worldview that reveals several distinctions when compared to its western counterparts. 

The purpose statement of this paper is to briefly analyze the ontology, theology and actual practice of water baptism within the Orthodox Church. By way of comparison to western practice, I will occasionally draw on my own personal experience as a baptized Protestant. 

Ontology of Baptism

Essential to perceiving the differences in the baptism ritual itself, a westerner must first grapple with the way in which the Orthodox perceive the world. As a westerner myself, I’ve been shaped in a dualistic worldview. The material world around me is altogether different in substance and reality from the immaterial. The properties of matter for example are, for the westerner, measurable, predictable, and understood. The invisible world, if a westerner believes in such a thing, is its own distinct reality, immeasurable, unpredictable, and mysterious. 

Although the concept of worldview itself is a western one, it’s a helpful term in describing the paradigm from which the Orthodox view baptism, but more essentially, worship itself.  For the Orthodox, the material world is simultaneously material and immaterial in that God, who is the infuser of all things created, is in all things by nature of his divine energies. This panentheistic worldview sets the backdrop for a holistic, even cosmic approach to the Church’s worship. The Church, in it’s sacraments, operates as a divinely designated process whereby the individual in each generation joins in the historical material, and eternal immaterial chorus of praise as two coexisting realities. “This double character, at once outward and inward, is the distinctive feature of a sacrament: the sacraments, like the Church, are both visible and invisible; in every sacrament there is the combination of an outward visible sign with an inward spiritual grace” (Ware 2015, Loc. 267).

This ontological approach differs substantially from the western evolved views of worship which tends to focus on the individual’s unique participation spiritually, through faith. For the westerner, the material world is both passing away, and pointing towards an eternal, uniquely spiritual, and better reality. Sacramental elements such as bread, wine and water then have distinctly different ontological realities within the Protestant church than the Eastern Orthodox. In the Eucharist, for example, consuming the bread and wine is not a symbol alone, but “the sacrament of [our] participation in the Pascha of the Kingdom” (Schmemann 1973, 79). 

In baptism, water is not only the symbol of a grave or of washing away of sins, “baptism is the joining of the material world, to the immaterial, the celebration of the ‘world to come’” (68) and the “Church’s ascension to the Kingdom” (68). “The Church takes material things – water, bread, wine, oil – and makes them a vehicle of the Spirit” (Ware 2015, Loc. 267). This unification and non-dualistic approach to time, space, and matter aid the western perspective of Orthodox sacramentality. What the Western believer sees as a symbol representing a ontological different reality, the Orthodox experience as reality. 

This is why they can boldly state, “We need water and oil, bread and wine in order to be in communion with God and to know Him” (Schmemann 1973, Loc. 123). The elements of material matter then becomes both process and package, ritual and experience. Western approaches to worship, including baptism, place much less intrinsic value on the symbols because of the dualistic framework. For the Orthodox, however, it’s ontologically impossible to participate in the real presence of God without the body, words, darkness, light, movement, and through the sacraments “all these expressions of man in his relation to the world are given their ultimate ‘term’ of reference, revealed in their highest and deepest meaning” (Schmemann 1973, 123).

Baptism for the Orthodox, then, is not a private, individual experience pointing towards another future, or separate heavenly reality, but “an act of the whole Church, involving the whole cosmos” (67). Just as the incarnation reveals one ontological reality in the material form of Christ, so too baptism as an “existential root” (69) for the Church represents the gateway for receiving and actualizing the free gift of salvation. While the West would look through the elements of water and ritual itself, ontologically speaking the East makes no such distinction, and celebrates the sacrament as one glorious reality for the individual and the Church throughout time. “The whole life of the Church is, in a way, the explication and the manifestation of baptism” (Schmemann 1973, 69). 

Theology of Baptism 

To understand the theological nuances of baptism from the Orthodox perspective, we need to survey briefly the nature of humanity and the result of the fall. The Orthodox believe that humanity is suffering the effects of our first parents, but do not subscribe to Augustine’s formulations of the sinful nature, nor the Reformer’s narrative of total depravity. Orthodox theology suggests that Adam’s guilt is not imputed or shared upon all of humanity, but rather humanity has been greatly diminished in its image bearing capacity. Humanity is dead in sin, in that we now suffer under the consequences of sin, “caught up in death” (Payton 2007, 146). 

Orthodox believe that humanity is “surrounded by corruption and, inevitably, influenced by it” (Payton 112). In the end, both Western and Eastern theology embraces humanity as being out of fellowship with God, needing reconciliation, and new life which is found in Jesus Christ. This sets the groundwork for the need for salvation, initiated through baptism. 

While both Protestants and Orthodox would agree that humanity is indeed imprisoned and in need of salvation, just how and when salvation is actualized differs. For the West, new life is found when faith, a gift from God, enlivens the heart to believe. Baptism for the Protestant is an outward sign of an inward reality that has already been consummated. The water, whether through full or partial immersion, or even through sprinkling, is simply pointing to the reality that has already taken place. Baptism then, for Protestants, is primarily a public confession and witness of faith. 

In the East, baptism itself, however, actualizes the transformation, “Life in Christ is communicated to us in baptism” (Payton 2007, Loc. 146). Through the instrumentation of water [basic element of the world, the prima materia], Christ, who first created the world through His divine energies, moves again through water to restore and renew His creation at baptism (Schmemann 1973, 75). This is how baptism theologically can become the “transition from death to life” (146), and thus the entry point for the believer’s participation in the sacramental life of the church. Not just spirit-less matter, “through Baptism we receive a full forgiveness of all sin”  – through the immersion of water baptism a believer becomes a member of the Church (Ware 2015, Loc. 271). For the Orthodox, water has a truly “cosmic and redemptive significance” (Schmemann 1973, 74). For the Protestant, the significance is in the spiritual water, and the water is just water. 

Once again, we see the ontological difference being revealed. Because the water is more than a symbol, and a present eternal reality connected to the spiritual world, the waters become the means of spiritual regeneration in combination with the believing heart. The Orthdox view baptism, as well as the eucharist, not as mere symbols, but “a means of deification – through baptism, Eastern Christianity teaches, humans are initially united to Christ” (Payton 2007, Loc. 146).  In baptism we are “cleansed from sin and clothed with Christ” (Payton 2007, Loc. 147) and “both repentance and forgiveness find their fulfillment” (Schmemann 1973, 80).

The Orthodox Church doesn’t believe baptism itself cleanses any particular sins, but is “representative of the fullness of Christ’s life and death offered by means of baptism ‘into Christ Himself, who is the Forgiveness’” (Schmemann 1973, 80). Both Orthodox and Protestants would agree that “Baptism signifies a mystical burial and resurrection with Christ” (Ware 2015, Loc. 271). Many Protestants however would take issue with the Orthodox understanding of the literal remission of sins through baptism. Interestingly, the Orthodox confess that, “Baptism is forgiveness of sins, not their removal” (Schmemann 1973, 81). Through baptism, “God adopts the recipient as his son or daughter and makes the baptized one his heir (Gal 4:5; 3:29)” (Payton 2007, Loc. 146), but the Orthodox recognize that the believer will continue to struggle with the results of the fall, and personal sin will never be completely eliminated in this life.

Viewing baptism as both symbol and reality, the Orthodox view the believers’ journey as “the life constantly transformed into the liturgy-the work of Christ.” (Schmemann 1973, 79). Baptism then becomes the material moment in time when the believer transitions from death to life, and experiences the forgiveness of sin. 

Act of Baptism 

Baptism has remained part of the historic contextual liturgy in the Orthodox Church, and not an independent act. “Baptism, Confirmation, First Communion – are linked closely together”  (Ware 2015, Loc. 270). The historical act of baptism in the Orthodox church has varied little since the third century, citing from Tertulian (200 AD) as well as the Didache. It is performed by a bishop or priest. In Orthodox tradition, everyone who desires baptism is welcome, including the children from Orthodox families.  

For converts, after religious instruction, baptism is preceded by a fast, then renunciation, also known as the catechumenate, “the exorcisms, the renunciation of Satan and the confession of faith” (Schmemann 1973, 71). The renunciation is “to announce the forthcoming baptism as an act of victory” (73), which reveals another distinction from that of the Protestant’s individualistic approach to baptism. The Orthodox cosmic and present material realities offer the Western believer some important insight! Truly, there are more witnesses to the baptism than just those we humans can discern with the eye. 

After the confession of faith, and bowing three times before the Father, Son and Spirit, the believer is then anointed with oil (chrism) from the head to the foot. Subsequently, full body immersion into the water takes place three times. “There are two essential elements in the act of Baptism: the invocation of the Name of the Trinity, and the threefold immersion in water” (Ware 2015, Loc, 270). For the Orthodox, immersion is essential. Without full water immersion, “the correspondence between outwards sign, and inward meaning is lost, and the symbolism of the sacrament is overthrown” (Ware 2015, Loc. 270). After the immersion, a second anointing of oil takes place, concluding with the believer being dressed in garments of white as that of a king. 

Concluding the baptism is a procession, either around the baptismal font, or an interior section of the church. In the Orthodox Church, newly baptized believers are confirmed through the sacrament of Chrismation where they are introduced and welcomed into the Church. Chrismation is the fulfillment of baptism. (Schmemann 1973, 77). They are then served their first communion immediately following baptism.

Summary 

As I consider the Orthodox ontology and holistic approach to worship, I begin to catch glimpses of the Orthodox Christian vision of the world and Christ’s continued mystery within it. Baptism for me, was a very personal decision. I was a young teenager making a bold claim to reject the world and follow my Savior. I wasn’t necessarily aware of people there, the pastor performing the ceremony, nor the invisible and spiritual realities in play.

Over the past few years, I’ve begun to embrace a panthentheistic worldview (God being IN all things, as opposed to pantheism that supposes God IS all things). This belief is rooted in the relational Trinity. As I reviewed the sacrament of baptism, I found myself encouraged by the Orthodox ontological approach, and attempt to preserve the grand, cosmic event that took place over 2,000 years ago as something very real for us in this moment through preserved, consecrated, Christ-centered ritual which points us all towards “the life constantly transformed into the liturgy-the work of Christ” (Schmemann 1973, 79).