On Materiality in Worship

     If you had asked me, oh, even ten years ago if I could adore a rug or a piece of wood, I'd probably given you one of my looks through squinty eyes conveying suspicion. So, tonight, when I kissed a tapestry, bearing the likeness of a deposed Jesus, I wondered--Wow! Have I come a long way from where I was.
     I'm on the verge of preparing for entrance in the ancient church, and while there are some things I'll miss from Protestant worship, there are some things I'd never dreamt of. Incense, like prayers; icons and the iconostasis, a reminder of worship in Heaven, of the great cloud of witnesses, of the human form, of stories, of something to look at and focus, of something to handle with hands, to kiss, to reverence; of water splashing at Theophany/Epiphany, of the burial procession of Holy Friday and Saturday Matins; the bowing, the signing, the whole body and senses involved. Not yet, but now. Not the whole, but only in part. Glimpses, nothing clear.
   Photographs from Heaven, calisthenics of the saints, elements of Earth--all pointing to the King and Creator. This is worship. Maybe you disagree, but you haven't seen what I've seen, I'll wager.

If you worship Him, why wouldn't you want to kiss his head, his hands, his feet?

Comments

lgumina said…

I think I do understand, Scot. And could I please accompany you to one of these places of worship one day? May not seem appropriate for me to ask, but I want to involve all my senses.

May 13, 2011 at 7:17 PM

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I Am Not Hamlet

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