It was your typical Sunday at an American megachurch...the kind where orange-vested volunteers in the parking lot directed you to the last available parking spaces, where the sanctuary resembled a hybrid of black-box theater and warehouse, where the worship band's performance was emblazoned on your eyes from multiple screens facing the congregation from every angle, where the music was so loud that my Mom brought earplugs to church (when I told her this was embarrassing, she retorted, "A musician's ears are valuable."). One particular Sunday, the band began a hymn after the sermon. I remember (I was around eleven at the time) looking out at the vast congregation. The melody was lovely, the words profound. My heart sang out in praise.
Everyone remained seated.
I was seized by the urge to stand. I wanted to raise up my hands to God, with my whole body worship Him. My eleven year-old self wondered if it was socially acceptable to just stand up. Maybe everyone would rise to their feet, uninhibited. I pictured it, the powerful motion of a whole sea of people rising up. The evocative image of a mosque full of faithful Muslims all prostrating themselves in united prayer came to mind. We, as Christians in that megachurch, were all assembled in God's name. It seemed almost ridiculous to me that no one moved.
And then I, too, stayed seated.
An unresponsive, passive posture.
We use our bodies for all kinds of things, some more honorable than others. Why is it that we suddenly restrain ourselves before God?
People are watching, I always thought. For my part I knew that I stared at people that broke from the stale Wonder Bread norm. I probably sometimes harbored judgmental thoughts in my heart, too. Just like Michal "despised" David in her heart for "leaping and dancing before the Lord."
I understand that it's not always appropriate to fall face down on the floor of the sanctuary and sob uncontrollably in front of everyone. Sometimes you can't kneel, or dance, or clap, or shout. Sometimes God leads us to stillness. Matthew records Jesus' words: "...when you pray, you must not be like the hypocrites. For they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, that they may be seen by others...But when you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret..."
When I was living in Istanbul, one evening I'd attended a Sufi ceremony of dhikr (remembrance, in the tradition of Islamic mysticism), performed by the iconic whirling dervishes of the Mevlevi order. Grown men with felt hats twirl in billowing long white robes until they achieve a kind of trancelike state, a unity between divine and earthly. The ceremony had clearly become something of a tourist trap. But as I dwelt on its timeworn significance, I came to appreciate the idea of physical movement, of posturing oneself so that God's love and closeness was felt in such an all-consuming way.
Why should not the outward reflect the inward?
Everyone remained seated.
I was seized by the urge to stand. I wanted to raise up my hands to God, with my whole body worship Him. My eleven year-old self wondered if it was socially acceptable to just stand up. Maybe everyone would rise to their feet, uninhibited. I pictured it, the powerful motion of a whole sea of people rising up. The evocative image of a mosque full of faithful Muslims all prostrating themselves in united prayer came to mind. We, as Christians in that megachurch, were all assembled in God's name. It seemed almost ridiculous to me that no one moved.
And then I, too, stayed seated.
An unresponsive, passive posture.
We use our bodies for all kinds of things, some more honorable than others. Why is it that we suddenly restrain ourselves before God?
People are watching, I always thought. For my part I knew that I stared at people that broke from the stale Wonder Bread norm. I probably sometimes harbored judgmental thoughts in my heart, too. Just like Michal "despised" David in her heart for "leaping and dancing before the Lord."
I understand that it's not always appropriate to fall face down on the floor of the sanctuary and sob uncontrollably in front of everyone. Sometimes you can't kneel, or dance, or clap, or shout. Sometimes God leads us to stillness. Matthew records Jesus' words: "...when you pray, you must not be like the hypocrites. For they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, that they may be seen by others...But when you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret..."
When I was living in Istanbul, one evening I'd attended a Sufi ceremony of dhikr (remembrance, in the tradition of Islamic mysticism), performed by the iconic whirling dervishes of the Mevlevi order. Grown men with felt hats twirl in billowing long white robes until they achieve a kind of trancelike state, a unity between divine and earthly. The ceremony had clearly become something of a tourist trap. But as I dwelt on its timeworn significance, I came to appreciate the idea of physical movement, of posturing oneself so that God's love and closeness was felt in such an all-consuming way.
Why should not the outward reflect the inward?
When I came across this journal entry of Sophie Scholl's, I felt that she'd put expression to my very own feelings. After an April 1942 Easter service at a Catholic Church, Sophie wrote: “Much as I needed that kind of service -- because it’s a real service, not a lecture like you get in a Protestant church -- I’m sure it takes practice or habit to participate fully...My trouble is, however, I’d like to kneel down, as it accords with my feelings, but I’m shy of people seeing, especially people I know. I’d like to bow down before an effigy of God, because you shouldn’t just experience feelings but express them as well, but again I’m too inhibited.”
What if we didn't just experience, but express?
The deprecating Michal tries to shame David, that Old Testament archetype of worship and praise, for dancing unrestrainedly before God. And he tells her, "...I will make merry before the Lord. I will make myself yet more contemptible than this, and I will be abased in your eyes."
We should probably care less about what other people think and more about what God thinks. We should probably stop judging those around us for 'putting their hands together', or for choosing not to.
Our bodies as well as our minds belong to God. Our physical as well as emotional and spiritual states should be oriented towards Him.
So use your body to worship Him.
Stand up.
What if we didn't just experience, but express?
The deprecating Michal tries to shame David, that Old Testament archetype of worship and praise, for dancing unrestrainedly before God. And he tells her, "...I will make merry before the Lord. I will make myself yet more contemptible than this, and I will be abased in your eyes."
We should probably care less about what other people think and more about what God thinks. We should probably stop judging those around us for 'putting their hands together', or for choosing not to.
Our bodies as well as our minds belong to God. Our physical as well as emotional and spiritual states should be oriented towards Him.
So use your body to worship Him.
Stand up.
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