In Wilmington, Delaware, there is a strong Christian Orthodox presence, reflecting the pattern of immigration (you know about immigration; it’s a word that means, “We’re here; you’re not allowed”). Up the road from my old house was a Ukrainian Orthodox Church.
When they held their annual bazaar, you could get pierogies to die for. (For those of you who have never heard of pierogies, they are sort of eastern European raviolis, usually filled with mashed potatoes or mashed potatoes and onions. You boil them up and, for a true treat, simultaneously fry up some onions and finish by browning the pierogies with the onions. You can sometimes find a pale imitation in the freezer section of your grocery store).
We attended it once, because the Pastor was our neighbor two doors up. The service was two hours of beautiful liturgy, much of it spent standing. The most memorable event was that First Son’s girlfriend of the time fainted from all the standing and incense. She went to the Narthex for a breath and, the next thing we knew, an usher was at our pew whispering, “Your daughter has fainted.” Daughter was standing right there . . . process of elimination and all that.
Anyhoo, in the course of a discussion of the place of archangels as opposed to angels (I took the position that angels were, at best, a metaphor, but that, in Christian tradition, archangels were sort of like the sergeants of angels–sergeants run the Army), I stumbled on the Orthodox Page, which discusses the Orders of Angels.