Introduction to Orthodoxy

As Christians, we talk a lot about community and social inclusion and such.  I fear exactly how much we mean it.

As an Orthodox Christian, I’d noticed a particular typology of people who were in my church.  Among those who were devout and faithful, there were a few different characteristics that could be seen.

As far as economic class goes, most would generally be in the ‘middle-class’ strata (rising as the generations go by), and part of families that have been Orthodox for centuries, with ancestors that have survived at least one bout of major, widespread persecution for their faith (usually either Communism or the imposition of a foreign power with a significantly different religion).  There’s a fairly equal male-to-female ratio, and educational achievements are roughly similar to standard society.  In short, theological convictions and religious affiliation aside, most people in the church were representative of most people out of the church.

Among those who did not have ancestors in the Orthodox Church (or, at least, not before the 20th century), most have converted in their lifetime as a result of many hours spent over websites and books.  These are almost invariably university-educated, middle-upper class people of Anglo-Saxon background who read their way into the Church, and they are, numerically, a fairly small grouping of people.

This is obviously just my experience, and is far from statistical.  I’d put forward that it was the common experience in America about 10 years ago, and now we’re starting to see it in Australia as well.

The exactness of those typologies is really neither here nor there for the point of this post, though: the point is that a pretty bad job is being done of welcoming into the Church those who do not come from one of these backgrounds.

Steve the Builder puts this well in his post about The Man in the Mall.  Seeing a man who spends most days in a mall, he wonders how many people notice him, how many people feel any kind of sympathy or empathy with him; and as Steve finishes up and walks away, he wonders why he didn’t do much of that either.

It’s a poignant piece, I thoroughly recommend reading it.  It’s all the more poignant for those of us who can think of people like that in our own towns and cities.  I’ve got a few of those people in my hometown, and they can develop near-mascot status sometimes… even though all those people talking about them have no idea who they are, what their story is and why they do what they do.

But, again, that’s probably neither here nor there.  What is both here and now, though, is – why?  Why do we let them have entire days – weeks, perhaps – without any form of human contact?

This isn’t just a matter of religion.  They’re humans.  If we accept that people are people through other people, how do we deny them their humanity?
But, it’s an imperative for those of us who are religious (and sadly, this sermon, I preach to myself as much as anyone else combined) – these are images of God.  What right do we have to ignore our brothers and sisters?

I don’t know.  I don’t know what the answer is – I know that I, too, have a long way to go before I can overcome my own caution, reservations and indignations to get past my self and talk to God’s children with the respect with which they deserve to be spoken to.

Hopefully, however, you’ll feel a small tug to do what I struggle to do.