Fellowship Hour I
In our last post, we talked about the porch on our new temple, and the gentle welcome we hope that space will generate.
In this post, we’re going to start talking about a weekly event that will take place on and around that porch: Coffee Hour.
Coffee Hour is a unique aspect of life in Orthodox Land. It takes a variety of forms, but, basically, following the Divine Liturgy, folks are invited to hang around and visit. Food is usually served. Sometimes, it’s just coffee and doughnuts or—depending on the time of year—a Lenten snack; in our community, it’s an actual meal. But this is how communities break the Eucharistic Fast; it’s where parishioners can spend time together and get to know one another; it’s where visitors can be welcomed.
People in this country are often surprised to learn that, in its current form, Coffee Hour is a uniquely American contribution to World-Wide Orthodoxy. It’s not that people in, say, Greece or Romania, don’t greet each other after the Divine Liturgy. And, from time to time—especially on feast days and other special occasions—food is served in Syrian and Russian parishes. But this weekly combination of social interaction along with and during an actual meal is something that happens only in North America.
In our community, we want to place the emphasis on interacting and not on eating, so here at St John’s, we call Coffee Hour, Fellowship Hour. But, ultimately, you really can’t separate one from the other, and, since this whole fellowship and food thing is an arrangement that’s Made In America, I want to give you a sense of what all this means by telling you a very American story.
My father was a career officer in the United States Air Force, but his roots were in small town Texas. His favorite place to eat was the closest truck stop; his favorite meal was breakfast. After he retired, he would often get the family together on a Saturday morning for what would today be called ‘brunch’, and it was always at a diner frequented by long-haulers—so no avocado toast; no mimosas: We’re talkin’ eggs, pancakes, sausage, bacon, hash browns, and, if you were really fancy, a waffle.
So, one Saturday back in the mid-1980s, we were at this place out on IH-30, and we had pretty much finished up. There were a lot of us there that morning; we had pushed several tables together. It was the kind of diner that still used crockery plates and coffee cups, so we were sitting there amidst all kinds of scraps and stickiness and smells. But the place had almost emptied out, and the kids were quiet, and there was a pause in the general conversation.
And then the jukebox fired up, and this song came on.
After a bit, the waitresses started clearing things away, and the kids started to get restless, but, for just a few minutes there, the whole world paused and was peaceful.
And during those moments, the thought came to me: This must be what heaven is like.
That was back when I was starting to think seriously about seminary, and folks who are thinking about seminary are notorious for thinking Big Thoughts. But that particular observation was a genuine and honest response to what I experienced in those few seconds: there is something eternal, something that connects with the next life, in a meal that is shared among people who love each other.
Of course, my family had just as many meals that were disasters: someone spilled something; someone wasn’t speaking to someone else; someone got their feelings hurt. But even that kind of normal family dysfunction couldn’t shake what I had seen in that brief moment while sitting in that diner and listening to Patsy Cline.
And, later, when I went to seminary, that experience was fully confirmed, because what I learned in my Bible classes is that, through the mercy of the Most Holy Trinity, this whole world is headed to the Kingdom of God—and not only does Christ Jesus describe that Kingdom as a feast, but, in the Book of the Apocalypse, we get a wonderful description of that Feast
And I heard as it were the voice of a great multitude, and as the voice of many waters, and as the voice of mighty thunderings, saying, Alleluia: for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth. Let us be glad and rejoice, and give honour to him: for the marriage of the Lamb is come, and his wife hath made herself ready. And to her was granted that she should be arrayed in fine linen, clean and white: for the fine linen is the righteousness of saints. And he saith unto me, Write, Blessed are they which are called unto the marriage supper of the Lamb.
And that is what lies behind the meal that we serve at Fellowship Hour each and every Sunday morning: the Marriage Supper of the Lamb, the Feast of the Kingdom. Because what we will be doing on and around the porch of our new building is a reflection of what we do in the Divine Liturgy in our current facility and the Liturgy that we will one day serve in our new temple—and it is all a foretaste of what we will experience when we are gathered together at the End of All Things.
Don’t you want to be a part of that?
If that’s not feasible, join with us in prayer: Offer the Akathist for a New Temple (PDF/video). Or restack this post and upgrade your subscription to paid. You can also purchase a Come See Something Beautiful sweatshirt and commission an image of a beloved pet for the Calming Room of our new temple.
You could even make a donation directly to our building fund.
Because that kind of meal, in that kind of parish community, really is what heaven is going to be like—and we want each and every one of you to be a part of that.
And, since we’re speaking of heaven—and country music legends—it’s only right that we sign off with The Carter Family.