John Heller, Post-Gazette Parishioners and guests share a meal each Lenten Wednesday at St. George Cathedral in Oakland. Click photo for larger image.

Oh taste and see how good the Lord is," sings the choir at St. George Antiochian Orthodox Cathedral.

From outside, where Wednesday evening traffic is rushing past this corner of the Boulevard of the Allies and Dawson Street in Oakland, the yellow brick building is relatively nondescript. Its three domes only hint at the splendor of the interior, with its breathtakingly blue, domed ceiling.

Christ looks down from its center, and the walls on both sides are filled with gold-flecked icons of saints. The ornate sanctuary screen up front is the kind of thing you'd go out of your way to see on a trip to an exotic place.

"Oh taste and see how good the Lord is," sing the sweet voices of the choir.

Incense and echoes of bells hang in the air near the end of the service as parishioners line up for Holy Communion, the sharing of the bread and wine that to the faithful are the body and blood of Christ.

Because this is Lent, the host was sanctified the previous Sunday, which is why this is the Divine Liturgy of the Presanctified Gifts, and fewer such sacraments are offered. (As the Very Rev. John P. Abdalah later explains, "We're fasting even from the joyous celebration of the liturgy.")

The faithful, who give up meat and dairy for all of Lent, have fasted for at least part of this day. Many of them are hungry.

"Is there fish?" whispers a woman in the back pew.

"Spaghetti," answers a woman who has been doing her penitent prostrations wearing an apron.

One man returns from the front holding a chunk of bread and gives a piece to the woman in the apron. She gives a piece to a person beside her who obviously is a newcomer, but who is as obviously welcome. She pats the visitor on the hand and says, "This is holy bread."

The service concludes and most of the 60 or so people seem to leave. Only they're taking the outside stairs back into the basement social hall.

A deacon points out an inside shortcut, and from the top of those steps, even the visitor's nose knows: Spaghetti this way.

Downstairs, the woman in the apron -- "Aunt Sophie" Sarah to most of the crowd -- is collecting the $7 donations ($3 for children) for the meal. College students eat free.

The church hosts these meals on all six Wednesdays during Lent. Six groups take turns planning, then cooking them in the big kitchen.

This first Wednesday of this season it's the Parish Council, which has prepared pasta in tomato sauce, a green bean dish, green salad and bread, including some of the crusty holy bread, parishioner-made as always, from upstairs. They've made a little pasta with cheese for children and others who choose to have some dairy. Even Orthodox rules allow some wiggle room.

Council chairwoman Rachel Thomas of Brentwood, who's been coming here for all 39 of her years, normally would fast beginning at 11 a.m. But earlier she was the person who had to taste-test the food. "Now I'm full and don't need to eat," she says with a grin.

The social hall -- brightly lit, with big round tables -- is bustling with people chatting and laughing and lifting children into the air. Many warmly greet Father John, who stands in line with everyone else.

Over dinner, he affably explains the Middle Eastern roots of this parish, founded in 1908, and how it's one of 100 Eastern Orthodox Christian churches in and around Pittsburgh. He also explains some of the tradition and importance of both kinds of fasting. The abstinence from meat and dairy during Lent is because "this is a very focused time for us -- a time of fervor and preparation for Holy Week."

The abstinence from food on days before Communion "is to allow us to put Jesus Christ first."

Parishioner Tami Mansour comes up to him and asks if he enjoys her burghul wa lubia, or bulgur with green beans and tomato sauce.

He clearly does.

"We eat almost every time we get together," he says with a smile. "I always say, I've not had a bad meal yet."

In the voices and laughter, you can hear the echoes of the choir: "Oh taste and see how good ... "

"There's something very sacramental about eating together, you know," says Father John. "We're sharing God's gift together."