In my current days of age, I have come to believe that there is another aspect of learning, and worshipping.
It is the presence of motion, and the use of the body in praise. I call this Christian sign language. Oh, you say, “This fellow is off on a Pentecostal kick!” Perhaps there is a suspicion brewing that I have sold out to ecclesiastical “rock and roll”.
Now and then, I watch televised religious services that are full of motions of all sorts. I expect to view suppliants “treeing the Devil” or getting “the barks”. These occasions seem to me to be concerts, put on for amusement of an audience. Why, the other day, the TV preacher was all over the place, exhorting the choir, sitting staidly in their robes to please “say something”. I mean that felt like a kind of abuse to me. Perhaps the preacher’s entreaty was to “get hip” or something like that. He was all over the place. Nice suit, though.
Far from being in the ranks of those who are enamored of some forms of what passes as contemporary worship, I want to make it clear right now that I am thinking of another kind of devotion and motion.
You see, my wife and I attend a mid- sized Episcopal Church these days. She grew up in the Roman Catholic Church, and was devotedly attached to its teachings, doctrines, and ceremonies for more than fifty years. I had spent my adult life serving, I hope with faithfulness, Presbyterian venues, and I am at heart a Presbyterian unto this very day. To be truthful, we ended up at St. John’s Episcopal Church here in Charleston, West Virginia, for a number of reasons. It is an inclusive congregation, open to all comers, has a widely varied parish membership, and most importantly, celebrates the Holy Communion every Sunday.
For Bridget, and now for me, the joining of Word (great preaching) and Sacrament (sacred banquet) are important. As typical of Presbyterians, I value preaching more than Bridget does. For Bridget, the Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper (by whatever name) is the pearl of great price. We are willing to participate in a service that lasts over an hour to experience Word and Sacrament bound together.
Oh, I was going to speak of motion and devotion. In my experience as sometime preacher and celebrant in Lutheran and Episcopal (preaching only) venues, I have come to value the use of gesture in the communication of faith. Particularly, I value these things as my hearing has become more and more impaired. Now, as a severely hearing-impaired person, I am in a comfort zone when I can participate more fully in worship that allows for a variety of “sacred gestures” that permits me, if I get lost in the words, to connect more fully with the service of worship.
I speak first of the Sign of the Cross, and the orans, the raised hands of a person leading in prayer. In my Presbyterian life, and when I supply the pulpits of my co-religionists, I might slip a Sign of the Cross into a benediction when every head is bowed and every eye closed. What if someone saw that gesture? I have a habit of holding my hands, palms aloft, during parts of the Great Eucharistic Prayer of Thanksgiving and at the Lord’s Prayer. At the dedication of the new parking lot in my former congregation, I sprinkled the fresh concrete with water, applying droplets at each point of the compass with a whiskbroom. A youth trudged along with a bucket in hand. The sky did not fall, but one person gasped, audibly, shocked at my audacity. We had a baptized parking area.
I stick by my point, though. Movement and gesture, used as they are in Eucharistic worship, can be effective methods of communication. The choir processes in and out, making a lovely parade. The service begins, not with some folksy announcements, but with the Sign of the Cross and accompanying words of blessing: “Blessed be God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit.” The Gospel is read in the midst of the people. The peace is exchanged, with smiles, handshakes, and hugs. The bread is visibly broken, and the cup is filled during the service. Even the way the leaders of worship walk from one station to another can be a theological statement in itself. The final blessing is made with the minister extending both hands towards the people. Again, the Sign of the Cross is made. Come to think of that, I did that also in my more active days as a leader of worship. More typically, in my youth, the preacher extended only one arm in benediction, which reminded me of another kind of salute. A Presbyterian ministerial friend arranges his fingers to shape the initials of Jesus Christ (ICXC) when he raises his hand in blessing. I noticed that immediately, even from a distance.
So, are devotion and motion useful in the church of today? Do we have to imitate the meetings of Elmer Gantry to link gesture and faith? In my opinion, the use of historic gestures, long associated with Christian faith, is, in the best sense of the word, Catholic, Reformed, and Evangelical.
There are gesture-less sermons, I know. There are inappropriate gestures, such as finger pointing in homilies. Now and then a preacher pounds at just the wrong moment. My childhood pastor would get going and rattle the never, ever used water glass and carafe. It was impressive and a bit frightening to a child.
So, in worship, we pour water loudly, break bread, lift hands, cross ourselves (if we wish), raise our hands, lift our heads, all to give glory not unto us, but to God. Presbyterians can surely do most of these communicative gestures while being truly Reformed.
Some may disagree.
The American Sign Language, with which I became familiar many years ago when I met with hearing impaired students in vocational rehabilitation programs, can be highly communicative. A similar Christian Sign Language, rightly used in worship, may make the Word of God become a reality, especially to those whose ears are dulled.
Jesus certainly used the language of signs. The deaf person approaches Jesus and the Healing Lord places fingers in the person’s ears. On one occasion Jesus writes in the sand. Perhaps he offers a welcoming gesture to the children brought for blessing.
The right motion can open not only the eyes, but the heart. A threatening gesture can break the heart.
Should we staid Presbyterians give some attention to devotion and motion? I think it is worth a try.
Lawton W. Posey is a retired minister of the Presbytery of West Virginia. He says he “moves more slowly these days.”
