In June of 1981, I was transferred from my first parish, a Byzantine Rite congregation in Oklahoma, to my second, St. Andrew the First-Called, in Florida. To my knowledge I was the first Orthodox seminary-trained priest to serve in a Western Rite church, and the result was no small discussion. I lost my Father Confessor, who was convinced I had somehow ceased to be Orthodox, although we have since reconciled. Other friendships were put on hold, and there were innumerable sarcastic remarks and jokes about the Mickey Mouse Western Rite, for it is good and pleasant when brethren dwell together in unity.
Many before then and since have referred to an article written in St. Vladimir’s Theological Quarterly about the Western Rite by Fr. Alexander that most readers viewed through their own lens, while at the same time knowing nothing about the context of his remarks. Fr. Alexander had lived and been trained in Paris, and this is one of those places where the Western Rite had one of its beginnings. Just before the start of WWII, the Holy Synod of Moscow approved the use of the Western Rite right before the outbreak of the war, and one congregation barely survived the German Occupation. Afterwards there were attempts to reorganize, but the organic connection with Moscow was lost in the postwar politics of the Cold War. This is not the place to go into the history of this effort, which must have seemed quixotic in the extreme, but it was spearheaded by two Russians, Maxim and Evgraph Kovalesky, who despite their own background in the Russian Church, genuinely wanted to see the Western Rite restored in France and set about doing so. Evgraph eventually was consecrated the first bishop, while Maxim handled the music.
The first problem to be solved was how to worship. They picked something called the Liturgy of St. Germain, existing in about the ninth century, that they believed to be undisputedly within France’s tradition. Its problem was that it only existed in outline, with parts missing, and with no rubrics as to how it was to be performed. So they made them up, based upon traditions done in other churches, including their own. When they came to a place in the rite where something seemed to be missing, they went home to mother, taking things from the Liturgy of St John Chrysostom such as the Cherubic Hymn, the Litany of Fervent Supplication, and other such parts of Eastern liturgy. It was as if you took the parts of various rites, put them in a blender, and pushed the blend button. Whatever came out was what you got.
The result was neither Eastern nor Western, but Weastern, a Hybrid rite that seemed stitched together. This pleased almost no one who was Orthodox, certainly no one at St. Sergius Academy, where Fr. Alexander was, and raised great suspicion as to the integrity of their effort. Liturgy was not something to be played at. This is the background to Fr. Alexander’s remarks in his article.
The result was the 1958 article, that was jumped on by some as a condemnation of any attempt to restore the Western Liturgy to the context of Orthodox faith and piety. I believe Fr. Schmemann was once quoted as saying that if you ordained forty ex-Anglican clergy, you would get forty different Western Rites. He certainly knew his Anglicans, and was almost a prophet. The Western Rite that I entered in 1985 had been limping along for years with a plurality of liturgical practice and piety that seemed downright Anglican. The clergy had little training beyond what they had learned as Episcopalians, and the people were mainly concerned with getting away from ECUSA, rather than their destination. We once received a congregation in Athens, Georgia, which as it turned out did not exist, but we had ordained a priest for it, who promptly transferred to the Greeks. It was all very chaotic, and was viewed with amusement and contempt. Those in the Western Rite who complain now of how things are done, study the past. It was one long exercise in literally getting everyone on the same page of the hymn book. It would have helped to have had a hymn book.
I had been in Eustis, Florida, for about a year, when I traveled to an Archdiocese Convention somewhere in Canada–I do not remember where–and was one of two clergy designated to pick up Fr. Alexander in a limo at the airport. I have no idea why I was chosen because I had not seen or spoken with him since I had made what was often referred to as “The Change,” as if I had been through a liturgical menopause. I did not know how he would react. He had been to my first parish, and we seemed friendly–but so had many others. On the way to the hotel (and with others in the car), the conversation was general. Once we got to the hotel, it became specific quickly. I took the Great Man to the counter to get him his key and make certain he was properly checked in, whereupon he rapped his key on the counter, turned to me, and said, “My room, five minutes.” Fortunately I had brought plenty of underwear.
I ran to my room to get what little material we had. It was pathetic. We had no service books, no hymnals–nothing but leaflets of services, and often not good ones at that. He had left his door open, and I was so nervous that I was talking as I walked in, when I was stopped by a Voice Imperial: “Stop that nonsense! You know I trust you by now; so what can I do to help?” I almost wept. Afterward I did.
So was born the idea that he should come to my parish the next year and conduct a week-long retreat for the immediate area, to which all Orthodox would hopefully come. The story is almost anticlimactic: He came, he saw, he conquered. He was his usual witty, articulate, charismatic self. Supposedly his topic was confession and communion; in reality his topic was, “It’s all right, folks–relax.” By and large, they did. He enjoyed himself immensely, singing hymns ancient and modern with relish, helping other Orthodox clergy find their way through the services, talking about the old days of St. Alban and St. Sergius meetings, and speaking to other clergy about the legitimacy of what was going on. The choke-up point for me was the first Mass, at Holy Communion. I had told him I would send the subdeacon down to tell him when to come forward to receive, at which time I intended to step aside and allow him to commune himself. When I turned around to say the words, “Behold the Lamb of God,” there was Fr. Alexander and others, kneeling in front of me, right hand over left in what we would have referred to as “Anglican style,” to receive the Body of Christ from me. I almost lost it right there.
So ends the story of “Mike and Alex’s Great Adventure”: the story of two Orthodox priests of different backgrounds come together to make the point that the Church is more than the sum of its parts. When next you hear how Fr. Schmemann opposed the Western Rite, refer to this.