If you allow me, I’ll try to answer. But my answer won’t be proof either of their differences or of their similarities. I’ll try to answer from my perspective, as a parishioner.
First, a little background. As I wrote before, I am an Orthodox Christian by baptism and by tradition. But my faith is a dialogue: there have been periods of closeness to the church, and periods of distance. And it’s always an attempt to understand the doctrine.
The thing is, there’s a Catholic church right near my house. And, as a parishioner, I’ve recently started attending Sunday services there. Why? An Orthodox church is too far to travel to. However, on Easter and Christmas, and also just from time to time, I go to an Orthodox church.
But I’d like to share my own experience of being in a Catholic and Orthodox church. In a Catholic church, during the service, ordinary parishioners take turns reading passages from the Bible. Between readings, they pray, the organ plays, and the choir sings. Toward the end of the service, the priest distills the readings into a general sense, a common idea, and preaches it vividly. Catholic churches have comfortable benches, and a comfortable, softly padded step specifically for kneeling during prayer. In a Catholic church, as a parishioner, I relax; I receive the sermon, the teaching, the comfortable environment, and the pleasant music. I reflect on God and the teaching, trying to grasp both the content of the sermon itself and the meta-level: something more general—for example, “why is it this way in Christianity and not another way?” Here, I enjoy rational thinking.
In an Orthodox church, things are somewhat different. There are no comfortable benches in the center of the hall; the clergy conduct the service, seemingly oblivious to the parishioners. The service itself (in my case) is conducted in Old Church Slavonic. The lights are dim, the walls are adorned with icons and holy images, candles burning near them, the scent of incense fills the air, and the choir sings. No one here presents anything rationally or understandably (only a short sermon at the end). To be at home here, you need to prepare well in advance (perform rituals, fast, etc.). Here, I reason less, but I’m more immersed in the service. That is, I reach a state in which the desire to process information rationally seems to disappear. I simply feel what’s happening here, and that’s it.
That’s the difference from a parishioner’s perspective. And you know what? I enjoy going to both churches. It’s a completely different experience, internally.
Of course, if Orthodox and Catholics find out that I go to both churches, they look at me with disapproval. Each one starts trying to convince me that their understanding of Christ is truer. I avoid arguing about this. But internally, a question arises: guys, what if both the Orthodox and Catholic views of God are not true? But on the other hand, does it really matter? I’m not interested in consuming religious forms, but in the ability to stand before God without turning my own understanding of God into a definitive theory of God.
To be honest, I don’t care at all what one or the other thinks, or how their views differ. Of course, from the perspective of their own teachings, where is their love for each other? Why did their pride lead to this division and maintain it?
I call this a leap from a relationship with the Absolute—to the appropriation of the right to speak on behalf of the Absolute. After all, you can stand before God, pray, experience His presence, but that doesn’t mean you have the right to say, “Now I know exactly what God is like, and therefore it’s everyone else’s responsibility to accept my description.”
Let them figure it out for themselves; I’ll continue to go where I please.