The Service that Remembers
A Walking Tour of a Single Sunday Morning, From the First Prayer to the Last, Naming the Pedigree of Every Movement
We’re going to walk through the current liturgy of St. John Chrysostom. This is a really big and important topic. I pray that I get this right. All errors here are mine and due to my particular human fallibility.
Picture this… (without the Mull River shuffle joke this time)
It’s Sunday morning. You are standing in an Orthodox parish somewhere in the world. It could be Denver, Austin, Toronto, Thessaloniki, Tripoli, or Addis Ababa. Could be a temporary space (maybe for a mission church) or a permanent domed cathedral (for an established parish). The specifics don’t matter.
You are standing with the general body of the faithful. Maybe it’s your first time attending a liturgy; maybe you are cradle Orthodox and already have it memorized. As you look around, you see that the priest is vested. There is a deacon at his side, also vested. The acolytes (adult male altar servers in plain black cassocks) and altar boys (younger boys wearing sticharion) are holding candles. The choir has begun to sing something in a mode that sounds like it’s from mythic history. The air smells like beeswax and incense.
I am going to attempt to walk through the entire service with you. From the first words to the last. And at every movement, I am going to try to stop and name the pedigree, and if I can explain a little bit. i.e.
This part is from the synagogue. This part is from the Temple. This part is from the Apostles. This part is from the Didache. This part is from Basil. This part is from Chrysostom. This part is from the Apostolic Constitutions. This part is from St. Cyril of Jerusalem. This part is from Isaiah. This part is from Christ Himself.
Six articles have led to this one. Six articles of patient documentary work - Justin Martyr in 155 AD, the Temple in your parish, the synagogue that became a church, the Didache that shouldn’t exist, the Anaphora and its eleven movements, the bishops through whom the liturgy came down.
Now we put it all together.
Now let’s start our walk with Christ and his Apostles as we engage in authentic traditional Christian worship.
Before the Beginning: The Proskomedia
The Divine Liturgy does not begin when you think it begins.
45 minutes before the priest opens the Royal Doors and you hear “Blessed is the Kingdom,” there is a quiet service happening in the sanctuary that most parishioners never see. It is called the Proskomedia - the service of preparation.1 The priest stands at a small table to the left of the altar called the Prothesis (the “setting forth” table). He has before him the loaves of prosphora - the offering bread, stamped with a specific seal, made and brought to the church by the faithful. And with a small liturgical spear2, he begins to cut. (The number of prosphora used depends on the tradition. In the Greek tradition, which I’m a part of, we typically use as many as we believe are needed based on the size of the congregation. My parish is large, and so it is not uncommon for us to use 9-10. (For the blessing of the Loaves for feast days, there are always 5- but it’s a different recipe. For very large congregations they may use multiples of five.)
He cuts the central square out of the first loaf - the part that is stamped. This square has a name: it is called the Lamb. The priest intones as he cuts: “He was led as a sheep to the slaughter; and as a lamb without blemish, so opened He not His mouth.” Direct quotation from Isaiah 53:7 - the prophecy of the Suffering Servant, seven centuries before Christ.
The priest pierces the right side of the Lamb with the spear, reading the words of the Evangelist John describing the spear thrust at Calvary (John 19:34). He pours wine and water into the chalice, the same wine and water that flowed from Christ’s side. From the remaining four loaves, or the remaining portion of the large loaf from which the lamb was cut, he cuts small particles in honor of the Theotokos, the ranks of the saints, the living faithful of the parish, and the departed. Each particle is placed on the diskos - the paten - around the Lamb, in a specific arrangement that visually depicts the entire Church gathered around Christ: Christ in the center, His Mother to His right, the saints ranked in order, the living below, the departed below them.
When the priest is finished, the diskos looks like a map of the Church - every member of the Body accounted for, every commemoration named, every Christian past and present gathered around the Lamb.
Where does this come from?
The Proskomedia as a formal service took its current shape between the eighth and fourteenth centuries. But the pattern is much older than that. It is older than Christianity itself. Because what is the priest doing at the Prothesis? He is preparing the offering. He is cutting the bread. He is arranging the elements before the sacrifice.
That is the Tabernacle pattern. Leviticus 24:5-9: twelve loaves of bread, fresh every Sabbath, set in order on the Table of the Presence, consecrated to the Lord. In Article 2 of this series, we walked through how every Orthodox church on earth preserves the three-zone Temple architecture - the Outer Court, the Narthex, the Nave where the faithful stand, the Holy of Holies (the sanctuary behind the iconostasis, which is the Temple veil,) opened rather than abolished in Christ. The Proskomedia happens in that architecture. The priest stands in the Holy of Holies, at the Prothesis table, preparing the offering that will soon be carried to the Altar. The Proskomedia is the New Covenant version of the showbread - but now the twelve loaves have become one Lamb, and the particles arranged around Him are no longer the twelve tribes but the whole Body of Christ: saints, faithful, departed, the Theotokos who bore Him, all gathered around the One who gathers them.
This part is from the Temple.
And the Lamb itself - cut with the spear, pierced in the side, spoken over with the words of Isaiah 53 - this is direct apostolic theology. The earliest Christians called the Eucharist “the Lamb that was slain from the foundation of the world” (Revelation 13:8). The Apostle John saw Him. The Apostle Paul preached Him - “For even Christ our passover is sacrificed for us” (1 Corinthians 5:7). The Proskomedia takes the apostolic theology of the Lamb and enacts it ritually before the Liturgy begins.
This part is from the Apostles.
The First Cry: Blessed Is the Kingdom
The priest situated in front of the Altar, behind the Royal Doors, blesses the Gospel Book on the altar, and cries out:
“Blessed is the kingdom of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, now and ever and to the ages of ages.”
The people answer: “Amen.”
That opening acclamation is already doing theology. It’s declaring this Liturgy as an event in the Kingdom of Heaven. It’s a Kingdom event.
Every other major Eucharistic liturgy - Roman, Ambrosian, Coptic - begins with “In the name of the Father” or a similar Trinitarian formula. The Byzantine liturgy is different. It does not open with the name of God as an invocation. It opens with the Kingdom of God as a proclamation. The Liturgy is not about what we are doing for God this morning. The Liturgy is about the Kingdom that is already breaking in upon us, and our entry into it.3
Where does this come from?
From Christ Himself. The first words of His public preaching in Mark 1:15: “The time is fulfilled, and the Kingdom of God is at hand: repent ye, and believe the Gospel.” The Orthodox Liturgy begins by announcing the exact message Christ began with. We are entering the Kingdom.
This part is from Christ Himself.
And the congregational “Amen” that answers? That is the oldest liturgical response in Christianity. The word is Hebrew. It is what Jewish worshippers shouted at the end of every synagogue prayer in the first century. It is what Paul assumes the Corinthians are shouting at the end of their Eucharistic prayers around 55 AD (1 Corinthians 14:16). It is the word that has never been translated out of Christian liturgy, in any language, in any century, anywhere on earth. You say it. The Coptic monks in Egypt say it. The Syriac Christians in Kerala say it. The Russian Orthodox in Alaska say it. It is the same word.4
This part is from the synagogue.
The Great Litany
A deacon steps out through a door in the iconostasis, faces the people, and begins to chant a long sequence of petitions. It is called the Great Litany or, in Greek, the Megalḗ Ektenḗ. Each petition is answered by the choir with “Lord, have mercy” - in Greek, Kyrie eleison. The deacons in the liturgy fulfill the role of angelic messengers. In most iconostases there are two deacons’ doors, one with the icon of Gabriel and one with the icon of Michael. The deacons often come out the door of Gabriel, in the role of heavenly messengers moving between heaven and earth, and they enter back into the holy of holies through the door of Michael the Archangel, the protector of heaven.
Deacon: In peace let us pray to the Lord.
People: Lord, have mercy.
Deacon: For the peace from above and for the salvation of our souls, let us pray to the Lord.
People: Lord, have mercy.
Deacon: For the peace of the whole world, for the stability of the holy churches of God, and for the unity of all, let us pray to the Lord.
People: Lord, have mercy.
And it continues. For travelers. For the sick. For the prisoners. For favorable weather. For the abundance of the fruits of the earth. For deliverance from all affliction, wrath, danger, and necessity. Petition after petition. Prayers for the whole world are brought before the altar.
Where does this come from?
From the synagogue. The Great Litany is the Christian form of the ancient Jewish Amidah - the “standing prayer” of eighteen (later nineteen) blessings that structured every synagogue service in the first century.5 In Article 3 of this series, I walked you through the full synagogue service that Jesus attended every Sabbath of His earthly life - the Shema, the Amidah, the Kedushah, the Torah and Haftarah readings, the homily, the intercessions, the fixed order of chanted prayer. The first half of the Divine Liturgy is that service, baptized into Christ.
The Amidah was a sequence of petitions covering every dimension of communal and personal need: for understanding, for forgiveness, for healing, for rain in its season, for the regathering of Israel, for peace. Jesus prayed the Amidah. Peter prayed the Amidah. Paul prayed the Amidah. When they began to gather as Christians, they did not stop praying sequences of petitions like the Amidah - they baptized the pattern into Christ. The Great Litany of the Divine Liturgy is what the Amidah became once the Messiah the Amidah had prayed for had arrived.
This part is from the synagogue.
And the response - Kyrie eleison - is older than the Christian Liturgy. It appears in Psalm 123:3 and throughout the Psalter. It is what the Canaanite woman cried out to Jesus in Matthew 15:22. It is what the ten lepers cried in Luke 17:13. It is what Bartimaeus cried in Mark 10:47. It is the cry of every person in the Gospels who encountered Christ in the flesh. The Church has never stopped crying it.
This part is from Christ Himself.
The Three Antiphons
After the Great Litany, the choir begins to sing three sets of Psalm verses called the Antiphons. Each is separated from the next by a short litany and a prayer from the priest.
The First Antiphon traditionally uses verses from Psalm 103 (“Bless the Lord, O my soul”). The Second Antiphon uses verses from Psalm 146 (“Praise the Lord, O my soul”). The Third Antiphon, on Sundays and feast days, uses the Beatitudes from Matthew 5 (“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven”).
Between the Second and Third Antiphons, the choir sings the hymn “Only-begotten Son and Logos of God” - a sixth-century composition traditionally attributed to the Emperor Justinian, which compresses the entire Christological doctrine of Chalcedon into six lines of poetry.6
Where do the Antiphons come from?
The Psalter has been the prayer book of the people of God for three thousand years. David composed some of the psalms. The Levitical choirs sang them in the Temple. The synagogues of the Diaspora chanted them every Sabbath. Christ Himself quoted them from the cross - “My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me” is Psalm 22. The Apostles prayed them. The monks of the Egyptian desert in the third and fourth centuries structured their entire daily life around chanting the whole Psalter every week.
When you hear the choir at an Orthodox parish begin “Bless the Lord, O my soul,” you are hearing words that David may have composed, that the Temple choirs certainly sang, that Christ knew by heart, that the Apostles prayed, that the desert Fathers chanted in their caves, and that have been sung in Christian liturgy without a Sunday off for nearly twenty centuries.
This part is from the Temple. And this part is from the synagogue. And this part is from Christ Himself.
The Little Entrance
After the Third Antiphon, something shifts. The priest and deacon bow before the altar. The deacon takes up the Gospel Book. They circle the altar and exit through the north door of the iconostasis in solemn procession, led by altar servers carrying candles. They pause in the middle of the nave. The deacon raises the Gospel Book high and cries:
“Wisdom. Arise.”
And the choir sings (on most Sundays):
“Come, let us worship and bow before Christ. Save us, O Son of God, risen from the dead, to You we sing: Alleluia.”
This is the Little Entrance. The Gospel Book processes into the sanctuary through the Royal Doors.7
Where does this come from?
From the synagogue. Every first-century synagogue service included a solemn procession of the Torah scroll - the reader would bring the scroll from the ark, process it through the assembly so that the people could see and touch it, and carry it up to the bimah to read. The Torah procession was the visible sign of God’s Word entering the midst of His people. It is still practiced in synagogues today, every Sabbath.
The Little Entrance of the Divine Liturgy is the Christian form of the Torah procession. But now the Word is not carried on a scroll of law. The Word is carried on a book of Gospel. Because the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory (John 1:14). The Torah procession has been fulfilled in the Gospel procession. The scroll has become a book. The book is Christ.
This part is from the synagogue.
The Trisagion
After the Little Entrance, the choir chants what is arguably the most ancient hymn of the Christian Liturgy still in continuous use:
Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal, have mercy on us.
In Greek: Hágios ho Theós, Hágios Ischyrós, Hágios Athánatos, eléison hēmâs. This is the Trisagion - the “thrice-holy” - chanted three times, with a doxology, then once more.
Where does this come from?
From Isaiah. Specifically from Isaiah 6:3 - the vision of the prophet in the Temple in the year that King Uzziah died, where he heard the seraphim crying “Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of His glory.” The Trisagion is the Christian expansion of Isaiah’s angelic cry.
The hymn itself entered formal liturgical use in Constantinople in the fifth century, but its roots are much older. The Jewish synagogue had a prayer called the Kedushah - the “sanctification” - based on the same Isaiah 6 passage. Jews were praying the Kedushah in the first century. Christ prayed it. The Apostles prayed it. When Christians began to compose their own worship, they kept the Kedushah pattern and expanded it. The Trisagion is one of its forms.8
A precision note worth landing here - because Article 5 of this series walked through the Anaphora and named the Epinikios Hymnos (the Triumphal Hymn, the one that begins “Holy, holy, holy, Lord Sabaoth”) - you might wonder whether this Trisagion is the same hymn. It is not. The Trisagion is a fifth-century Constantinopolitan hymn that inherits the Kedushah pattern. The Epinikios Hymnos is the Anaphora’s direct quotation of Isaiah 6, inherited through a different channel from the Jerusalem liturgical tradition. Two different hymns, both descended from the same synagogue Kedushah, both descended from the same prophet Isaiah, both sung in every Divine Liturgy. The same root. Different branches.
This part is from Isaiah. And this part is from the synagogue.
The Scripture Readings
After the Trisagion, the choir chants the Prokeimenon - a short Psalm refrain announcing the day’s theme. Then the reader proclaims the Epistle - a reading from the New Testament letters or the Acts of the Apostles. Then the choir sings the Alleluia. Then the deacon, standing in the center of the nave, proclaims the Gospel.
When the Gospel is announced, the people respond: “Glory to You, O Lord, glory to You.” And at its conclusion: “Glory to You, O Lord, glory to You.”
Where does this come from?
Straight from the synagogue.9 The first-century synagogue service had two readings: one from the Torah (the Law), and one from the Prophets (the Haftarah). The people stood for the Torah reading and sat for the Haftarah. The reader identified the source. The people responded with acclamations. There was a prescribed cycle of readings covering the Torah over the course of a year.
The Christian Liturgy preserved the pattern exactly. Two readings. Specific cycle. Standing for the Gospel (as the synagogue stood for the Torah) - because the Gospel is the Torah fulfilled in Christ. The acclamations at the beginning and end are the direct Christianization of the synagogue responses. If you attended a synagogue this Sabbath and an Orthodox parish on Sunday morning, you would recognize the pattern immediately. One service sat down for the prophets and stood for the Law. The other sits down for the Apostle and stands for the Gospel. The same movement, the same posture, the same purpose.
This part is from the synagogue.
And what does Jesus Himself do in Luke 4:16-21? He stands up in the Nazareth synagogue. He is handed the scroll of the prophet Isaiah. He opens it and reads: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because He hath anointed me to preach the Gospel...” Then He sits down and delivers the homily. That is a synagogue service. That is also the structure of every Divine Liturgy’s Liturgy of the Word. You stand for the reading. You sit for the homily. You do what Christ did.
This part is from Christ Himself.
The Homily
After the Gospel, the priest (or the bishop, if he is presiding) delivers the Homily. A sermon explaining the readings, applying them to the life of the Church, exhorting the faithful to the Christian life.
Where does this come from?
The synagogue, again. The homily was the regular feature of every first-century synagogue service following the readings. This is what Jesus did in Luke 4. This is what Paul does in Acts 13:14-16 when he is invited to speak “after the reading of the Law and the Prophets.” This is what every traveling rabbi did when he was visiting a new synagogue. The custom of following Scripture readings with a homily of application is as old as rabbinic Judaism and has been unbroken in Christian worship from the first generation.
This matches exactly what Article 1 of this series showed you in Justin Martyr’s First Apology. Writing in 155 AD, Justin described the Christian Liturgy to a pagan emperor: “When the reader has finished, he who presides instructs and exhorts to the imitation of these good things.”10 Justin saw it. The pattern was already fixed. It is still fixed. Scripture first, homily second, in that order, every Sunday, in every Orthodox parish, the way Christ did it in Nazareth and the way Paul did it in Pisidian Antioch and the way Justin watched it happen in Rome.
This part is from the synagogue.
