If I saw a priest, they were strange creatures, distant in their vestments and attitude. . . somehow not human beings at all.
There comes a realization, perhaps with age and hopefully experience, that the kingdom of God truly does dwell within any humbled human heart.
I see it now in the liturgy that my childhood mentors dismissed as dead ritual. But for me, now, there is nothing more alive.
I find myself bathed in incense; caressed by prayers sung and chanted in millennia-old tones; illumined by flickering candles or winter morning sunlight through the windows of the nave that whisper light, love and hope; tasting the warm mystery of the Eucharist on my tongue and throat; and the myriad icons that are reminders of the communion of saints known, and unknown, of faith bridging dimensions material and spiritual.
Yes, Orthodox Christian worship incorporates all the senses, to be sure. But for all that, I feel God most intensely in the eyes of a child, the embrace of a parent, and this morning Ss. Peter & Paul, the unapologetic humanity of a priest for his tired offspring.
Suffer the little children to come, indeed.
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