The Body in Worship in the Body of Christ
"It's one of those churches where it's a case of 'hands down for coffee'."
It's an old joke - which you've probably heard many times before - aimed, of course at Charismatic churches where worshippers are known for waving their arms in the air during the singing of various worship songs. Amongst those who regularly criticise or mock this sort of thing are many Anglo-Catholics, who see the raising of congregational hands as being merely a mechanical response. They also often suggest that people are only doing it to conform - or even to show off or 'outdo' one another. As one priest once said to me rather uncharitably, "They're like puppets on the end of a string."
The irony in all this, of course, is that exactly the same could be said of faithful Catholic worshippers who cross themselves, bow and genuflect at all the 'right' places at Mass. Indeed, these traditional gestures are far more 'mechanical' and less spontaneous than anything in the Charismatic repertoire.
Setting aside the unfortunate lack of charity that such comments demonstrate - not to mention the inability to cope with difference by which a once very broad and tolerant Church of England is now beset - it does seem to be the case that, whatever our spirituality or 'Churchmanship' - we are often uneasy about the use of the body in worship.
Some of this is surely to do with our innate British reserve. Our 'stiff upper lip' mentality militates against demonstrative gestures in any context but perhaps most especially in Church where subconsciously we all too readily worship a rigid, repressed, terribly 'British' God who despises emotion and enthusiasm of any sort.
Dig deeper still, and there's the problem of our ambivalence about the Incarnation - the Word made flesh. Again often subconsciously rather than consciously, we are stuck with a misguided duality of flesh and spirit. Despite the fact that at the heart of our faith is a God who chooses to become fully human as well as fully divine, many Christian writings - not least those of St Paul and St Augustine - have fuelled the notion that the spirit is good, the flesh is bad and both are in constant conflict with one another. Like Adam and Eve in the Eden myth, we are ashamed of our bodies and our physical nature, and our instinct - especially where God is concerned - is to hide ourselves.
If I ever doubted this, it was confirmed by a discussion I was involved in many decades ago, long before I was ordained. At a Church Lent group, someone was honest enough to say that they had a problem with the notion of Jesus being fully human with all that meant in terms of bodily functions, sexuality and so on. Many group members nodded in agreement whilst others grimaced with horror at the very idea. But it was the reaction of our Curate - the group leader - that was most disturbing. Looking to all intents and purposes as if he were on the verge of apoplexy, he angrily insisted that it was highly improbable that Jesus' humanity included the generation of bodily waste products or any kind of sexual impulse. My theology then was even less sophisticated than it is now, but I nevertheless recognised that this was a heresy, for it implied that the earthly Jesus was less than human and was therefore a denial of the incarnation itself.
In reality, of course, this was merely evidence of the Curate's 'issues' with his own humanity, but his inhibitions resonated with many other members of the group, and are clearly still at work in the collective consciousness of a Church that finds it impossible to 'grow up' in its understanding of human sexuality.
So with so much emotional baggage, it's hardly surprising that for many Christians, any use of the body in worship feels uncomfortable. Over recent years we've even witnessed the near total abandonment of the practice of kneeling, favouring instead the slothful, uncomfortable and highly disrespectful 'forward slump'. (Strange isn't it, that people would happily kneel before the British monarch where appropriate and would never adopt a lazy slouch in her presence, but are more than happy to offer the latter to the King of Kings?)
Of course, many Christians do not share these inhibitions - or manage to overcome them. I can still remember my self-consciousness when I first decided to cross myself at the appropriate places in Mass. I likewise remember a similar awkwardness when I first dared to raise a hand in praise of God during a particularly uplifting song at our monthly Charismatic 'New Fire Mass'.
Interestingly, I have noted that by and large the people in our congregation who raise hands during Charismatic worship songs are those who tend to cross themselves, genuflect etc during our more traditional Catholic worship. As our 'New Fire Mass' is both Catholic and Charismatic, they get plenty of opportunity for both!
The reality, therefore, seems to be that, regardless of church tradition, there are some people who are comfortable using the body in worship , and some who are not. We clergy, of course, are accustomed to making sweeping manual actions in front of others, so we perhaps forget how unsettling it may be for some lay people to find themselves in a worshipping community where the body is used expressively.
I was recently in a conference workshop where a priest was expressing a certain scepticism about some aspects of Charismatic worship. At one point he commented that, "It's a remarkable coincidence that in the singing of 'Shine Jesus Shine' (or whatever else is being sung) the Holy Spirit prompts everyone to put their hands in the air at precisely the same moment."
This shows a total lack of accurate observation, never mind understanding. For a start, hands don't all go up in the same manner or at the same point in a song, although it would seem unsurprising for this to happen during a rousing chorus. (Indeed this happens at the pub singalong as well as at arena pop concerts!) Secondly, the holy spirit doesn't magically propel people's hands into the air; rather this is a physical and emotional response to a profound spiritual stimulus. (It is thus no different to the priest, who, overwhelmed by piety, throws himself to the ground in a prostration before the blessed sacrament).
I have written elsewhere that we should all worship God as we can, not as we can't. Good Christian worship, of whatever brand, should create an environment in which all worshippers are free to do what is helpful to them, and free not to do what is unhelpful, embarrassing or contrived, without fear of criticism or ridicule.
Finally, I heard recently of a priest who instructed certain members of his congregation to put their hands down instead of raising them in response to certain words or phrases. He told them they could put their hands up again when he could see love in their faces and their love being experienced by others. Until then, their assertion that they were true Christians and others not was actually getting in the way of their relationship with God.
I'm not qualified to comment on the realities of that specific situation, but it is certainly true that Charismatics can fall into the trap of thinking that they are the only true Christians and that those who worship in other ways are not. This failing, however, is by no means limited to Charismatics and the criticism can equally be levelled at some Catholics, some Evangelicals and indeed some middleof-the-road liberals (for there are some very intolerant brands of liberalism).
For all of us, regardless of the manner and tradition in which we worship, it is crucial that the love that we show for Christ in our worship - bodily or otherwise - is reflected in our love for others. The hands that reach upwards in worship and adoration, the hands that reach out to receive the gift of Christ himself at the altar must be the hands that reach out lovingly to our neighbours in a needy and troubled world, otherwise our worship and our Christianity are false.
It's an old joke - which you've probably heard many times before - aimed, of course at Charismatic churches where worshippers are known for waving their arms in the air during the singing of various worship songs. Amongst those who regularly criticise or mock this sort of thing are many Anglo-Catholics, who see the raising of congregational hands as being merely a mechanical response. They also often suggest that people are only doing it to conform - or even to show off or 'outdo' one another. As one priest once said to me rather uncharitably, "They're like puppets on the end of a string."
The irony in all this, of course, is that exactly the same could be said of faithful Catholic worshippers who cross themselves, bow and genuflect at all the 'right' places at Mass. Indeed, these traditional gestures are far more 'mechanical' and less spontaneous than anything in the Charismatic repertoire.
Setting aside the unfortunate lack of charity that such comments demonstrate - not to mention the inability to cope with difference by which a once very broad and tolerant Church of England is now beset - it does seem to be the case that, whatever our spirituality or 'Churchmanship' - we are often uneasy about the use of the body in worship.
Some of this is surely to do with our innate British reserve. Our 'stiff upper lip' mentality militates against demonstrative gestures in any context but perhaps most especially in Church where subconsciously we all too readily worship a rigid, repressed, terribly 'British' God who despises emotion and enthusiasm of any sort.
Dig deeper still, and there's the problem of our ambivalence about the Incarnation - the Word made flesh. Again often subconsciously rather than consciously, we are stuck with a misguided duality of flesh and spirit. Despite the fact that at the heart of our faith is a God who chooses to become fully human as well as fully divine, many Christian writings - not least those of St Paul and St Augustine - have fuelled the notion that the spirit is good, the flesh is bad and both are in constant conflict with one another. Like Adam and Eve in the Eden myth, we are ashamed of our bodies and our physical nature, and our instinct - especially where God is concerned - is to hide ourselves.
If I ever doubted this, it was confirmed by a discussion I was involved in many decades ago, long before I was ordained. At a Church Lent group, someone was honest enough to say that they had a problem with the notion of Jesus being fully human with all that meant in terms of bodily functions, sexuality and so on. Many group members nodded in agreement whilst others grimaced with horror at the very idea. But it was the reaction of our Curate - the group leader - that was most disturbing. Looking to all intents and purposes as if he were on the verge of apoplexy, he angrily insisted that it was highly improbable that Jesus' humanity included the generation of bodily waste products or any kind of sexual impulse. My theology then was even less sophisticated than it is now, but I nevertheless recognised that this was a heresy, for it implied that the earthly Jesus was less than human and was therefore a denial of the incarnation itself.
In reality, of course, this was merely evidence of the Curate's 'issues' with his own humanity, but his inhibitions resonated with many other members of the group, and are clearly still at work in the collective consciousness of a Church that finds it impossible to 'grow up' in its understanding of human sexuality.
So with so much emotional baggage, it's hardly surprising that for many Christians, any use of the body in worship feels uncomfortable. Over recent years we've even witnessed the near total abandonment of the practice of kneeling, favouring instead the slothful, uncomfortable and highly disrespectful 'forward slump'. (Strange isn't it, that people would happily kneel before the British monarch where appropriate and would never adopt a lazy slouch in her presence, but are more than happy to offer the latter to the King of Kings?)
Of course, many Christians do not share these inhibitions - or manage to overcome them. I can still remember my self-consciousness when I first decided to cross myself at the appropriate places in Mass. I likewise remember a similar awkwardness when I first dared to raise a hand in praise of God during a particularly uplifting song at our monthly Charismatic 'New Fire Mass'.
Interestingly, I have noted that by and large the people in our congregation who raise hands during Charismatic worship songs are those who tend to cross themselves, genuflect etc during our more traditional Catholic worship. As our 'New Fire Mass' is both Catholic and Charismatic, they get plenty of opportunity for both!
The reality, therefore, seems to be that, regardless of church tradition, there are some people who are comfortable using the body in worship , and some who are not. We clergy, of course, are accustomed to making sweeping manual actions in front of others, so we perhaps forget how unsettling it may be for some lay people to find themselves in a worshipping community where the body is used expressively.
I was recently in a conference workshop where a priest was expressing a certain scepticism about some aspects of Charismatic worship. At one point he commented that, "It's a remarkable coincidence that in the singing of 'Shine Jesus Shine' (or whatever else is being sung) the Holy Spirit prompts everyone to put their hands in the air at precisely the same moment."
This shows a total lack of accurate observation, never mind understanding. For a start, hands don't all go up in the same manner or at the same point in a song, although it would seem unsurprising for this to happen during a rousing chorus. (Indeed this happens at the pub singalong as well as at arena pop concerts!) Secondly, the holy spirit doesn't magically propel people's hands into the air; rather this is a physical and emotional response to a profound spiritual stimulus. (It is thus no different to the priest, who, overwhelmed by piety, throws himself to the ground in a prostration before the blessed sacrament).
I have written elsewhere that we should all worship God as we can, not as we can't. Good Christian worship, of whatever brand, should create an environment in which all worshippers are free to do what is helpful to them, and free not to do what is unhelpful, embarrassing or contrived, without fear of criticism or ridicule.
Finally, I heard recently of a priest who instructed certain members of his congregation to put their hands down instead of raising them in response to certain words or phrases. He told them they could put their hands up again when he could see love in their faces and their love being experienced by others. Until then, their assertion that they were true Christians and others not was actually getting in the way of their relationship with God.
I'm not qualified to comment on the realities of that specific situation, but it is certainly true that Charismatics can fall into the trap of thinking that they are the only true Christians and that those who worship in other ways are not. This failing, however, is by no means limited to Charismatics and the criticism can equally be levelled at some Catholics, some Evangelicals and indeed some middleof-the-road liberals (for there are some very intolerant brands of liberalism).
For all of us, regardless of the manner and tradition in which we worship, it is crucial that the love that we show for Christ in our worship - bodily or otherwise - is reflected in our love for others. The hands that reach upwards in worship and adoration, the hands that reach out to receive the gift of Christ himself at the altar must be the hands that reach out lovingly to our neighbours in a needy and troubled world, otherwise our worship and our Christianity are false.
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