conjectural navel gazing; jesus in lint form

sabbath 21 - barefootin'

Okay, so I guess I need to tell about the first time I went to an Easter Vigil. I guess I was 23 or 24 years old. I dunno. So much of that time is a blur, a conflation of myriad experiences and relationships. Anyway, I was asked to sing with this Episcopal choir for the Great Vigil of Easter. It was a paying gig and I thought the choir director was cute. Really, how could I lose? So, I participated...and was absolutely blown away.

Easter, the Resurrection in general, had always eluded me to some degree. If I am honest, sometimes it still does. As a purely intellectual claim, it's a bit "tricksy." Up until that service, Easter was simply implausible. I was prepared to sing. I had a little solo to offer up, was slated to sing in some small group stuff. Being a barritone with a low b-flat (I brag. Forgive me.) means employment. I love it. Anyway, we shuffled outside to the courtyard to begin the service and I suddenly realized that this would not be the usual service I was prepared for.

We lit a fire and stood in the spring chill. Smoke arose. We sang. We prayed. Then we processed around the block and into the nave. Inside it was dark...people had candles, that's all. The church was lovely, different in the candlelight. We heard the story of Creation...the Fall, the Passion...and Jesus' Resurrection.

There was singing...lots of singing! And then the lights came up. We sang..."Bright morning stars are rising! Bright morning stars are rising! Bright morning stars are rising! Day is breaking in my soul."

It was tremendous. There was thumping of pews and noise makers and shouts of joy and applause and then the eucharist with the wine and the bread and a (thankfully) brief sermon...not necessarily in that order.

Sight.
Taste.
Touch.
Hearing.
Smell.

All the senses, the physical expression of worship communicated to me what books and conversations could not. The blanks that I could not fill in with mine or someone elses explication were filled instead with symbol and mystery.

Ah, so this is Easter. Thanks for letting me know! Tremendous.

The Sabbath, with all its food, song and candles is a sensual experience that reminds us we cannot fully comprehend the sweet magnificence of God in a purely intellectual way; we feel the tangible presence of spirit and creation with our body.

Muller speaks of love-making and walking barefoot in this chapter. I think I get his point. More power to you, Wayne. My shoes are off right now...well the green flip flops are. I like the carpet in my office. I'll spend much of the summer barefoot. I always have.

Cristopher says, "In my worship tradition, the engagement of the senses is an essential part of the sacraments of the church. We feel the splash of cold water, the touch of another hand, catch the scent of healing oil, taste the wine of the thanksgiving feast. These things provide moments, specific times and places, when we can be opened to the presence of God. And without the engagement of the senses, worship becomes an intellectual exercise, easily untethered from its original purpose and left to roam."

Megan says, "When we dash around accomplishing things, our attention is on the things we're accomplishing, or the obstacles that keep us from accomplishing. When we worry about money or the future, our attention is outside ourselves. Part of Sabbath rest seems to be the experience often phrased non-religiously as "centering ourselves," bringing our attention to rest in our own hearts. In my opinion, this does not reach the self-indulgence of navel-gazing; it just provides a chance to touch base and gently gather our strength for the next push outward."

Posted by tripp at May 1, 2007 10:38 AM