For billions of people around the world, the heart of the community is the local church, a centre of faith and friendship. With this in mind, St Dustan-in-the-West, a Romanian Orthodox church on Fleet Street, was the natural choice to attempt to meet and talk to members of the Romanian community living in London, as well as to experience an Orthodox church service.
Fleet Street is famously busy, crammed with bustling city workers and filled with tourists, as cars, taxis and buses steam past. It is not the setting one might imagine for a reflective, thoughtful church service. Despite one’s first assumptions about what a church in such a place might be, St Dunstan-in-the-West undoubtedly presents itself with subdued drama. Indeed, the contrast between the bustle outside and the gentle thoughtfulness inside can only heighten the sense of mystic within its walls.
Upon entering, the first impression is of great serenity and reflection, made all the more poignant by the gentle lyricism of religious music filling the great room. It’s eight imposing sides, each with a cloister or icon inset, give a sense of the power and authority of this home of religious worship. At one end, in the North-West wall, is a great, ornate golden gateway, adorned with a number of religious images, some reproductions of famous works of art.
There is no great ceremony to initiate the service, in fact, an absence of dramatic ceremony is what marks out this service in particular. Throughout, nothing is conducted with unnecessary ornamentation or extraneous detail, which gives the proceedings a great sense of simplicity, even purity. The service consists entirely of sung text, interspersed with limited read passages. From the front, two men, one singing whilst the other provides a constant, repetitious beat, seemingly conduct the service. Occasionally, the priest emerges from a door set into the golden gate, and joins with the other two men to create a trio of resonate, pure music which has that undefinable element that marks out worship.
The congregation, a motley collection of Londoners, some in t-shirts and shorts, others in elegant suits, still others with children and prams, do not treat us outsiders with suspicion or hostility, instead they stand respectfully as the service proceeds, intermittently crossing themselves several times at clearly important moments. The priest himself is simply dressed, belying the vital role he provides within this community.
At the conclusion of the service, there is again no celebration, no ceremony, simply a conclusion. Much of the congregation makes it way to the front, to the portraits, where they cross themselves and kiss the paintings, showing their respect and deference to these idols.
Although this service was, in many ways, unfamiliar, not least the language barrier throughout, it was deeply moving. One couldn’t fail to appreciate the power, respect and humility of those voices calling to their God.
European London 