By Olga Sibert
When you first attend an Orthodox service it may stand out to you as … well … kinda slow. We tend to take our time and Divine Liturgy lasts anywhere from two to three hours every Sunday.
This seems overwhelming to a lot of folks who are used to one-hour church services, but let me put it to you this way, how long does it take to say “good bye” in the South? A visit with Granny averages how long? Ever take a “quick” fishing trip?
We Southerners are tailor made for lengthy Orthodox services.
Being in a hurry is for industrialists. Rushing is for those who aren’t concerned with what the experience is, only what their profit is. Church for them must be strictly one hour on Sundays because they must be back to the factory, the gym, the bank, or wherever else. Time is money so they say.
Southerners are slow. We take our time. To us the experience and the people are the value. We move leisurely. There’s no need to rush unless your biscuits are burning.
Orthodoxy is slow. We chant low and heavy. We light candles and pray long enough to see them burn all the way down. We are reluctant to change and prefer not to.
A few days ago I was running around like a chicken with my head cut off. I was trying to kill two birds with one stone by doing my weekly grocery shopping while my kids were at practice. I also needed to run into the dollar store for some thank-you cards.
I whipped into a parking spot and ran into the store feeling pressured to make the most of my time. I made my way to the familiar aisle and grabbed two packs of cards. I stepped up to the front of the store to find no cashier at the register. I looked for a bell to ring but there was none. I glanced around again hoping to see someone and that’s when I caught site of an elderly woman, the employee, on the opposite side of the store.
I bit my lip and danced lightly from one foot to the other like a child needing to pee. I was trying to be in a hurry. I could yell across the store, but that didn’t seem polite. After about 30 seconds, she noticed me and walked over.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you, honey,” she said as she punched a code into the register. She looked up and began swiping my purchases.
“Well, I didn’t want to fuss at you.” I mused.
“Well, I was just telling her,” she nodded at her co-worker across the store, “about this wedding I been to this weekend. They had a mud cake. You ever had a mud cake?” she asked.
I could tell by the way she said it that it was a good thing despite it’s name.
“No, what is it?” I asked. My pulse slowed, my breathing steadied, and my hurrying faded away.
“Well,” she began, “the party was a cowboy theme and the cake was called a mud cake and, well, you wouldn’t believe it, it had all kinds of peanut butter and chocolate” and on she continued ….
For the cost of two packs of thank-you cards, I heard a tale of weddings and novel cake flavors.
“That sounds delicious!” I replied.
“Oh it was!” she said. “You have a nice day now.” She handed me my bag. I thanked her and walked out of the store.
There’s no crying in baseball and there’s no rushing in the South. Good heavens, I must remember myself!
Southerners don’t just “run” into the store and Orthodox don’t just “run” into church.
We both take it slooooooow.
Originally published June 25, 2021, at Eastern Chestnut.
Olga Sibert is a 14th generation Southerner born in Appalachia. She is the mother of 7 children. Her line was reunited to Orthodoxy in 2019 when her family was baptized and chrismated. Every Sunday, Olga turns down the Alan Jackson before whipping her minivan up the gravel driveway to her ROCOR parish. You can follow her at her blog Eastern Chestnut: Restoring Strength to the South Through Orthodoxy and on Instagram.
