The Church Building is Crowded
The church building is crowded. This church, usually holding two liturgies a Sunday, now does a dedicated one for that annual bazaar. I see people of the church wearing black sports jackets and walking around with earpieces, no different than the Secret Service. Little deacons inside one of the altars are breaking the rest of the Hamal (consecrated bread) into smaller pieces for distribution later after the liturgy. They talk and joke around, not paying any attention to the prayers. And when they’re done, they stay so that they can distribute the money envelopes [Ed: This is how Coptic Orthodox churches collect the offering from the congregation.] Sure. Whatever kills time so that they don't have to stand throughout the entire liturgy. At the climactic and beautiful prayer of Je Nai Nan ('Lord Have Mercy' in Coptic), the smell of the church shifts from the holiness of incense to the distraction of shish kabobs and other sizzling meals being cooked on the barbeque to be sold for the festival later. As you peek outside during the distribution of the Eucharist, the faithful already start selling their goods just right at the hallway.
Teenage boys stand next to their friends fidgeting and talk about where to chill afterwards instead of being next to their fathers just two rows down. Women gossip about one another, noticing how that girl over there should have not even soiled the steps of the church. You look over to this girl and she's praying so attentively, but the gossipers think she's just being fake and is showing off. Women distract themselves further by gawking over the little 6-year old deacons looking all so cute in that white cloak. "Yes, that's my son. Oh, how handsome he is!"
And while the altar deacon calls for everyone to look towards the east, others look west at that crying baby or that really badly dressed person who just entered the church. Meanwhile, everyone thank themselves on looking good in their pristine $300 dollar suits, not like that thug-looking character with the braids or that homeless Sa'a-idi ('Upper' or Southern Egyptian) with the heavy cloak and turban. And then eyes are thrown over on those non-Egyptians. Old FOBs don't trust them and the young ones are dying to ask them out on a date.
I've described a church large enough to produce three or four priests and two liturgies on a Sunday. So yes, you will see all sorts of people. But with a church like this and especially on a day like the Bazaar, I'm afraid watching this action unfold would bolster an already growing apathetic attitude in the congregation, one that would be full of visitors, newcomers, non-Egyptians and non-Orthodox. With a crowded church like this one, it may be hard to notice all the wrong things with their consequences that go on.
We see many aspects in the Gospel when we read about Christ being presented to the temple by the Virgin Mary. Going in order, the first thing that brings attention to the readers should be the reason for presenting the baby Christ. The Theotokos was fulfilling the Mosaic Law; Christ being the firstborn has to be presented and called holy. One cannot help but ask: Why does the Holy One need to be presented as holy under this Mosaic law? This seems to be counterintuitive. If He was presented to be holy, then was He not holy before? Well, that doesn't make sense. He's the source of all holiness. He is All-Holy. But then why is the Holy Mother doing this? Why is God in the infant flesh allowing this?
The answer is quite simple and lies in the Incarnation. Christ as flesh is the ultimate representation of all humans, in flesh, soul, and spirit, in all ages. Here he is, as an infant, allowing himself to be presented as holy because we are in him being presented as holy. When we celebrate the Presentation of Christ to the Temple, we celebrate the presentation of humanity, of all people, you and I, being presented as holy. By doing this as an infant, it is clear that we are to be holy from the very beginning of our lives, which is another reason why there is no hesitation in our church to baptize children, which renders the baptism of infants a must. Therefore, this practice is for our benefit. The Presentation of Christ to the Temple is for us, so that we may be holy in it, fulfilling the Mosaic law on behalf of all. By fulfilling the Mosaic Law with all of us in mind, we are thus considered firstborn, which is symbolic of the importance of our holiness to each and every one of us as people. In addition to the celebration of our holiness, we celebrate the Mother of God who indirectly presented all of us to the Temple for our holiness. While considering Mosaic law, this was done for a woman's purification; we can see that this is a testimony to the purity of the Theotokos by presenting all of humanity, past and present. And by celebrating the human parent of Christ our God, we celebrate this by honoring our parents’ presence, being by their side in the Church, remembering their contribution to their own upbringing in holiness.
If this is for our benefit, how should this relate to our lives in our present-day temples? Do people live holy lives as expected by the blessings of the Presentation to the Temple? It is obvious that the particular temple I presented is not quite exemplary. Many mothers see how cute their six-year-olds are, but they ignore the waste of time on spiritual upbringing of these young ones when they clamor to break the Hamal, walk around with the money bags, hiding being the curtains, goofing around, not standing behind the congregational deacons to join in prayer and hymnology. It has always been the duty of the parents, especially mothers, to raise their children as holy, to teach them the hymns, and how to be presentable in church. Instead, they expect the church deacons to be their babysitters. Most of these adult deacons don't mind babysitting your children; but if parents rely on this as the only source of church discipline, then your child being a deacon is nothing more than a waste of time. In contrast, the Theotokos wasted no time to present her son and she wasted no time contributing towards her son’s growth and strength in spirit, being filled with wisdom (Lk. 2:40).
The mothers and fathers also dress themselves up in expensive and extravagant clothing while judging others who look like thugs or Sa’a-idis. To me, the Sa'a-idis should rejoice for the Virgin and St. Joseph brought two turtledoves and two young pigeons: a sign of their poverty. Many wealthy people in church lack that humility that the lower class so easily possesses. Their major pride may be in how good they look, how successful they have become, or how much - yes, very much! - they contribute monetarily to the church. However, the poor who contribute very little money contribute much more by the example they show others. The thriving churches are filled with the poorest of people who have attracted and brought conversion in unbelievers through their heartwarming love. In addition, this sacrifice, which was considered by law their best, was a sacrifice for the Ever-Pure Virgin that contributed to her purification.
How much of sinners are we, who stand before the sacrifice of God, when we look towards the west at those who attract our attention rather than looking towards the east with compunction of heart, focusing our attention on God-in-Flesh, on that paten from which you are about to eat.
How much these people should weep to themselves, questioning their own so-called genuineness. Rather than the poor girl being mauled by disapproving maternal eyes, they should have not dared to enter the church. How much these people should refrain from questioning the 'fake' tears and low-class dirt of others and rather concentrate on the Divine Blood that will wash away the real dirt from their feet.
How true the same Evangelist speaks who says, "Blessed are you poor, for your's is the Kingdom of Heaven ... but woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation" (Lk. 6:20,24). What have we truly sacrificed? While turtledoves and pigeons don’t seem much for many, it was much to the Holy Family. And how amazing it is that little can stain her whom we call immaculate while we who give much only add more dirt to our souls by merely satisfying our egos.
Truly, if we ask the question if are our churches true temples of worship, we should also understand not to limit the church to that community or that building, but also to each and every one of us who is a temple of the Holy Spirit. The example of the clouded and crowded church building does not have to be a building made out of stained glass and stone.
The building can be you or I, with all of our pointless and unnecessary craziness we may be going through, regardless whether we notice them or not.
The church building is clouded and crowded. It’s crowded in our hearts and minds, it's crowded in our physical churches, it's crowded in our communities. All three are distracted and carried away from the sole purpose: presenting of ourselves and others to be given to the Lord.
Compare the scene I set out first and the scene in the temple when Christ was presented.
There were also two more people present at that meeting: the 'just and devout', Spirit-filled St. Simeon and the aged widow St. Anna the prophetess, who constantly prayed and fasted to see the Messiah. Notice how highly St. Luke speaks of them and of their holiness, reminiscent of the Pauline verse, "Do you not know that your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit who is in you, whom you have from God, and you are not your own" (1 Cor. 6:19)?
Are we then "just and devout" like St. Simeon the Just and St. Anna the Prophetess? I can't help but notice that being ''just' constitutes the bigotry of some Copts who limit their heartwarming welcoming and church inclusion only to Egyptians. Can we with St. Simeon say that we are "a light to bring revelation to the Gentiles?"" Jumping back briefly to that scene of the bazaar liturgy, "devout" seems to be nothing more than an added interest in that really hot non-Egyptian by the same teens who refuse to honor their fathers and mothers by not standing next to them.
After all, Christ's mother refused to allow him to be alone at his Father's house after looking for him three days, even if he was ready to begin his ministry in a devout manner. Are the teens of today ready to go out and stand before crowds, even those of scholars, teaching them about the faith to the point where where their own mothers would have to come find them, just as the Theotokos laboured to find Christ in the temple? (cf. (Lk. 2:46-51)
When we look at the church building on the three levels I mentioned earlier, we find that distracting smell of shish kabobs. What can I or you or we do after presenting myself at the temple?
The smell of incense, a symbol pointing us to the life-giving Holy Spirit who energizes the whole Temple, is with us to remind us we're in the temple and yet we ignore it.
Which smell is ultimately more desirable: the smell of the shish kabobs or the smell of God's presence?
