An Introduction to Western Rite Orthodoxy

Orthodox Odyssey

By the Rt. Rev’d John A. Mangels Former Rector of St. Augustine’s Orthodox Church, Denver, Colorado, now Pastor of St. George Orthodox Church (Eastern Rite), St. Paul, Minnesota

Originally published by Conciliar Press.

As a Child, I remember looking forward each year to the autumn, when the parish choir of my Church in Casper, Wyoming returned from their summer holiday, signalling the resumption of the splendid Sunday High Masses. In the late 1950s and early ’60s, participation in the awesome beauty of the age-old Roman Mass was quite an experience.

Even for a child, this was not like everyday life. One knew one was participating in something very special. Incense, Gregorian chants, the stately movements of the sacred ministers in their brocade vestments, the polyphony of the choir echoing through the large Romanesque Church all made this, The official public worship of the Church. It was the highlight of this young boy’s week! I did not have words for it then, but now I know I had worshipped God in the beauty of holiness.

Casper was an oil boom town in the late ’50s, having grown in population to nearly 60,000 souls. My parents wanted to give their children the best education possible in this setting. For us that meant attending the local Catholic parochial school which had an enrollment of nearly 600 students and was staffed by the Sisters of Charity of the Blessed Virgin Mary. The school was excellent, and the sisters were well educated, dedicating themselves totally to providing a complete education—the best of the traditional Catholic school models. They gave us the time-proven rudiments of Christian education and made sure that we had a solid foundation in the faith of the Holy Roman Church.

This training, coupled with the rich liturgical life of my parish, formed in me a deep love of God and my faith. As a youth, I was active as an altar boy, played the organ, and sang in the choirs. My love and interest in the Church did not go unnoticed. Both the sisters and the priests took an active interest in me and began to encourage me in my desire to move toward the priesthood.

It was a good life. I was a happy child with a loving and supportive home life, a superior elementary education, and the sure knowledge of a future in the unchanging Church which made me feel very secure.

The Great Experiment

An event occurred in late November of 1964, however, which marked the beginning of a very disquieting period in my life, and in the lives of countless other Roman Catholics. As I entered the Church one day for Confession, I was shocked to see a small wooden table standing in the sanctuary before the great marble altar of the Church. My pastor, sensing the obvious agitation in my voice, said quietly, It’s only an experiment (a word I would grow to hate). They’ll see it doesn’t work and everything will be back to normal.

This experiment was the work of Vatican II, which had been convened in Rome to let some fresh air into the Church. On that Sunday, the priest entered the sanctuary for Mass, faced the people, and used a great deal of contemporary language. I did not like it from the start. Something was wrong—very wrong! I have since learned the wisdom behind the modern adage, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Thank God for conservative priests! My pastor kept the High Mass as it was—celebrated on the High Altar—and that was to remain until I went to high school.

Meanwhile, in religion class, which was always interactive, we were discussing other Churches. Sister told us about the Greek Orthodox Church—the Church we could go to if there was not a Catholic Church in a town (but we could not receive Communion). She also told us about the Polish National Catholic Church and the Old Catholic Movement in Europe. I was puzzled yet fascinated by these Churches which were Catholic Churches yet not part of the Roman Catholic Church.

Out with the Old, in with the Odd

After grade school, arrangements were made for me to attend a minor seminary. I would begin my studies for the priesthood that fall at the Capuchin Seminary of Saint Laurence in Mount Calvary, Wisconsin.

I loved the seminary but was deeply troubled to discover that the liturgical experimentation begun in ’64 was now in full tilt. Gone were the days of the majestic liturgies of my childhood. Choir, organ, and holy dignity were replaced by guitars, folk songs, and kicking back. Even then, I was enough of a musician to know that the tunes were infantile. And the texts with their nonsense syllables were a far cry from the great sacred masterworks I remembered adorning the sacred liturgy at home.

My voiced concerns over these innovations were often met with ridicule. You are simply not being relevant, they told me. Still, how could one square the ancient tradition of the Church with these novelties? I heard stories of churches being ripped apart and made modern.

A Second Option

In the summer between my junior and senior years of high school I decided to make contact with the Greek Orthodox priest in Casper. Father Petros cordially invited me to attend the liturgy on the Feast of the Nativity of Saint John the Baptist (my patron). Here I experienced for the first time the riches of the Eastern Orthodox Church: the icons, the Byzantine chant, the liturgy itself. While different from that which I had previously known, the service was beautiful to behold. Obviously, this liturgy had not fallen prey to innovations and experimentation. I spoke with Father at length and he gave me some things to read. The thought in my mind as I left Church that day was, These people really are part of the Catholic Church, the Schism of 1054 not withstanding!

That year, at school I studied more about the Orthodox Church, and in my reading I again came upon the Old Catholic Movement of which I had first heard so long before. During my senior year, I was informed that I would be continuing my studies at Saint Thomas Seminary in Denver, Colorado. The Bishop of Cheyenne made all of the arrangements and my studies continued—bringing me closer to my goal of priesthood.

My first service in the exquisitely beautiful seminary chapel proved to be unforgettable. I can still picture all of us freshmen standing together in our new cassocks, collars, and surplices. How enjoyable it was to begin classes, to enter into the lively discussions, and to realize with each passing month that my dream of becoming a priest was coming closer.

Sadly, a tragic reality confronted me which I could not dismiss. My worries about the Church were no longer merely liturgical. I remember the rector of the seminary saying in a New Testament Class that he would not be surprised if one day they found the bones of Jesus! My spiritual directors, who were otherwise quite good, downplayed all of this and assured me that things were still on track in the Church.

During this time, I studied music at the University of Denver. The diocese was training me as a church musician. I also held a Sunday field education job in a parish where I worked as organist and choirmaster. I managed to maintain a degree of sanity here by bringing some of the best sacred music back into the Church (alas, all of this was lost when the new pastor came in).

In my senior year of college something wonderful happened. A young Orthodox priest from the Transfiguration Church started coming to the seminary. He wanted to take some classes, and in the end, team-taught a course in Eastern Orthodox spirituality with a Uniate priest. To experience the sobriety and spiritual insight of this man, Father Dragan Filipovich, was a turning point for me.

No longer was theology a dry science but rather a living reality. This young priest displayed a great love for the sacred, for Christian antiquity, and for the truth. He gave me my first copy of The Orthodox Church by Timothy Ware, Great Lent by Alexander Schmemann, and also my first copy of the classic book, The Way of a Pilgrim.

I was hooked! The joy of Liturgy at Transfiguration Church was diminished only by the fact that, as a non-Orthodox, I could not receive Holy Communion. Meanwhile, as my formation for the Catholic priesthood continued, I found myself more and more out of step in my previous setting.

One day, the Dean of the School of Theology called me in and informed me that because I wore a long-sleeved white shirt with French cuffs and cufflinks under my cassock, I really was not the kind of person the new Church needed. He suggested I change my ways.

The Old Catholic Movement

Before taking Holy Orders, I decided to take some time off to consider my situation. After all, I had been in school for almost eleven years studying for the priesthood. I asked for and was granted a one-year leave of absence to think, pray, and study. Among other things, this research once again put me in touch with the Old Catholic Church. It seemed that in this Church, one could be catholic (not Roman) and orthodox without giving up one’s Western traditions.

I found the Old Catholics to be committed to returning their Church to its roots in Orthodoxy. Much impressed, I contacted the Old Catholic Archbishop in upstate New York and went for an interview. His community proved to be a praying, working fellowship dedicated to the principles of orthodox doctrine and the living out of a strong liturgical life. Had I found a home?

Historically, Old Catholicism began as a reaction to the promulgation of the Dogma of Papal Infallibility in 1871 at the First Vatican Council. Having watched Pope Paul VI preside over what many considered to be the disintegration of the Roman Church, the collapse of the Catholic school system, the decimation of the religious orders, and the loss of the Catholic hospital system, I was already questioning this dogma. The Old Catholics were seeking to revive the old or ancient Catholic Faith from before the Schism and Protestant Reformation, and to bring their group into union with that Church which had remained true to the Apostolic Faith, namely the Orthodox Church.

This made sense to me. I sought and was accepted for Holy Orders in the Old Catholic Church. First ordained a deacon, then a priest, I was immediately sent back to Denver to begin a work. What an exciting and incredibly busy year 1978 turned out to be! I started a parish with no money, no resources, and no people. Within the next year and a half, however, a viable mission had begun. It was made up of friends, acquaintances, and people who had heard about us by chance. Most were from the Roman Catholic background; some had come from the Episcopal Church or elsewhere.

We all had at least one thing in common: the desire to worship the transcendent God in a traditional Christian way. We were all tired of subculture liturgies: Masses for children, teenagers, gays, and so on. Most of those who came to us at the first realized our worship had to be God-centered, not man-centered. In those early years a strong family spirit developed—as it turned out, a common characteristic of Orthodox parishes.

So, with salary from secular employment, an inheritance, and the kind gifts of parishioners, we began to build Saint Augustine’s parish. First we met in parishioners’ homes. Then we rented space. Finally we were given hospitality by the Episcopal Church. In the meantime I had established a choral group, The Abbey Singers, with the goal of restoring the great treasury of sacred music to the liturgy of the Church. People came at first to hear the choir, but they heard more than music. They heard the Orthodox Faith sung and preached. Here they received the historical stuff of Orthodoxy.

In 1983 we were strong enough to step out in faith and purchase our own building. A fine Edwardian Gothic structure of stone and brick, which had been the mother Church of the Lutheran Missouri Synod in the area, became the new home of Saint Augustine’s parish.

Full Circle

Now that we had become established we could do out part in pursuing a relationship with the Orthodox Church. I had the opportunity to meet with Bishop Basil of the Orthodox Church in America (OCA), who was quite encouraging. Another breakthrough came in 1985, when Father Alexey Young, a priest of the Russian Orthodox Church Abroad, came to Denver to take a parish. He was fascinated by our story and our desire to become Orthodox. Having a missionary heart, Father Alexey immediately set to work on the task of bringing us together. A meeting with the Synod of the Russian Church Abroad was arranged in New York, to which our Old Catholic Archbishop and I went. While the meeting was at first encouraging, our petition did not go anywhere. The doctrinal statement of the Old Catholic Church and our liturgical books were examined, and since they all conformed to the 1870 decree of the Holy Synod of Moscow authorizing a Western Rite, we at least had common ground.

We took great comfort in the discovery that the Eastern Orthodox Church, in her desire to bring all to the Faith of Christ, had reclaimed what was rightfully hers, the liturgy of the pre-schism Orthodox West—the Mass of Saint Gregory the Great. She had made this available to her new children coming from western backgrounds. What a loving Mother, indeed! Not only did this decision manifest the missionary spirit of the Church, but it restored a crucial cultural balance which had been upset by the Roman Church’s departure from Catholic unity in 1054. It showed the catholicity of the Eastern Orthodox Church—unity within diversity of rite.

After further research, and under the guidance of Father Alexey and Father Michael Trigg, a former Episcopal clergyman who had converted to Orthodoxy and founded a Western Rite parish in California, we found ourselves at the threshold of the ancient Apostolic See of Antioch. The doors were widely opened to us and, on the Feast of Saint Augustine of Hippo in late August of 1990, Bishop Antoun, representing Metropolitan Philip, Primate of the Antiochian Orthodox Christian Archdiocese of North America, received over 100 of our people by the Sacrament of Holy Chrismation.

I had the great joy of celebrating the Mass of my childhood with incense, Gregorian chants, the stately movements of the sacred ministers in our brocade vestments, the polyphony of the choir echoing through the Church—all within the ancient, undivided, Holy Orthodox Church. We were truly home!

Within Western Christianity today, many people feel alienated from their respective Churches. Catholics, Anglicans, and Protestants alike are experiencing a wholesale sellout of values once held immutable. These values are being traded for secular humanism and situation ethics.

Brothers and sisters, if this brief account of my journey and that of my people has struck a chord in you, please seek out Orthodoxy. This is the only Church that can historically substantiate its claim to being the True Church of the New Testament. The Church is true to the Divine Mandate and cares for you and for your soul. Come and share your needs with us. I can assure you, you will receive the same encouraging welcome we did.