Human beings of every generation have faced a particular direction for worship. This is true of most world religions of documented history. Muslims pray toward Mecca because it is the Qibla—the unified direction of worship commanded by Allah in the Quran. The ancient Jews would pray toward Jerusalem, as they awaited the reconstruction of the Temple. Christians have traditionally prayed facing East (ad orientem); toward the True Temple that was rebuilt in three days (Jn. 2:19).
In his new book, Ad Orientem: The Direction That Changes Everything, Dr. Peter Kwasniewski eloquently reminds readers that facing East is not an arbitrary liturgical custom, but a deeply biblical one. He writes:
Scripture passages call Christ “the Orient” or say that He ascends to the east, or that He will come from the east. For example, Jesus says of Himself, in Matthew 24:27: “As lightning cometh out of the east, and appeareth even into the west: so shall the coming of the Son of man be.”
The Church has always intentionally oriented herself not toward the faithful, but toward Christ and His Second Coming. When priest and people face the same direction (ad orientem), they are not turning their backs on one another. Rather, they are turning toward Christ and awaiting His glorious return. The entire congregation then journeys together toward the heavenly Jerusalem.
Rowing the Ship Together
Before the time of trains, planes, and automobiles, a common method of transportation was by boat and ship. Ancient ships often required coordinated rowing as a fueling mechanism. Greek, Roman, and Viking ships relied on people with oars rowing together in unison. A rowing leader—the keleustes in Greek or hortator in Latin—would dictate the rhythm as the rowers would follow along in synchronized movements. Every eye looked forward. Every oar moved with the same rhythm in the same direction. Their unified direction allowed the ship to reach its final destination.
This analogy offers a remarkable parallel to the Holy Mass.
The Church has always understood the church building as analogous to a ship. The central gathering area of the faithful in pews is called the nave, from the Latin navis, meaning “ship.” This is where we derive words such as “naval” or “navigate.” The Fathers of the Church also understood this analogy. They described the Church as the Barque of Peter, carrying the Christian faithful safely through the storms of this world toward the safe shores of heaven.
In this sacred vessel, the priest does not stand as an entertainer facing an audience. He stands at the helm, leading God’s people toward Christ. When priest and the people face East together—or at least face the same liturgical direction—they bear a resemblance to the crew of a ship fixed upon one destination. No one is looking at one another for directions. Everyone is looking toward the Lord.
This is exactly why ad orientem instills such profound theological declaration. The priest is not “turning his back to the people.” Instead, he is standing with the people, united in a common act of worship. The congregation is not gathered around itself; it is gathered around Christ. Priest and faithful alike become fellow pilgrims, fellow rowers, journeying together toward the Kingdom.
Sacred Music: The Rowing Sea Chanties
Sacred music beautifully reinforces this shared orientation.
On an ancient ship, rowers would sing sea chanties, which rhythmically united every stroke of the oar. Similarly, the sung Mass unites every heart in prayer and worship. The General Instruction of the Roman Missal teaches that “among the faithful, the unity of their hearts should be more clearly shown by their unity in song.”
The priest, like the ancient keleustes, establishes that rhythm. Musicam Sacram teaches: “By his singing, the priest proclaims and expresses the mystery of the liturgy; his voice invites the faithful to join in.” His sung dialogues are not interruptions between the “real music.” They are the very foundation upon which the rest of the music is built upon.
Indeed, the Church teaches that the first musical priority in any Mass is the priest’s own singing and the people’s responses. The singing of the priest is the first degree (the first priority) of singing in the Mass. Musicam Sacram states:
The first degree may be used even by itself, but the second and third, wholly or partially, may never be used without the first. In this way the faithful will be continually led towards an ever greater participation in the singing. (Musicam Sacram, 28)
When the priest sings, “The Lord be with you / Dominus vobiscum” and the people respond, “And with your spirit / Et cum spiritu tuo”, the Church breathes together. These dialogues become the rowing chant of the Mystical Body of Christ, binding priest and people into one unified act of worship.
The connection between ad orientem and sacred music is striking. Both direct our attention away from ourselves and toward God. Both cultivate unity rather than performance. Both remind us that the liturgy is something we enter—not something we create.
When the priest faces East and chants the sacred texts entrusted to him by the Church, he becomes less visible so that Christ may become more visible. His personality fades into the background as the eternal High Priest shines forth.
Every aspect of the liturgy should point the faithful in the same direction. The architecture, the altar, the music, the incense rising heavenward, the crucifix, the candles, and the common orientation of priest and people all proclaim one reality: we are journeying toward Christ.
Our modern culture constantly encourages us to turn inward—to focus on ourselves, our preferences, and our own experiences. The liturgy teaches precisely the opposite. It teaches us to look outward and upward. It teaches us to seek the Lord who comes from the East, “as lightning cometh out of the east, and appeareth even into the west.”
Every Mass is a voyage toward eternity.
The nave is our ship.
The priest stands at the helm.
The faithful labor together with one heart and one voice.
And all are facing the same destination.
Ad orientem is ultimately not about where the priest stands. It is about where the Church is going. When priest and people together face the Lord, the liturgy reveals its deepest meaning: we are a pilgrim people, journeying through this world toward the rising Son, eagerly awaiting the day when He will come again in glory.
Photo by Marise Guignard on Unsplash
