Why Not Expect the Heart to Leap?
Apr 26, 10:57 AM
Services in the Episcopal Church, where I serve as a minister, usually have a noticeable formality. Our worship draws on stately prayers. For all the heartfelt devotion I witness from parishioners, an atmosphere of majesty pervades what happens on Sunday morning. And every Sunday we follow an ancient custom for receiving Communion, the bread and wine that reminds us of Jesus’ death and resurrection. At the appointed time, people make their way to the front of the church, lining the rail and kneeling on the cross-stitched cushions to receive a wafer of bread and drink from a cup. The ceremony is elegant and moving. At least it’s supposed to be.
But one Sunday years ago, when our daughter Bekah was little, as Jill and I made our way forward with Bekah in tow, she suddenly broke rank. She skipped and hopped to the rail, her elbows flapping at her sides. A barely suppressed, mischievous smile formed at the corners of her mouth. People in the pews who noticed it chuckled. At first I felt mildly irritated with her, then self-conscious. After all, shouldn’t a rite that reminds us of spiritual reality proceed with solemn awe?
But I have thought more about Bekah’s sprightly trek to the altar rail. After all, I tell myself, this was not only Sunday, but the Sunday after Easter. Celebration was in the air. Why not dance and skip in the presence of One who brings holy delight? However much her skipping grew out of impish naughtiness, Bekah was also exhibiting wonderful spontaneity. I learned something, just watching her. So I began asking myself, Why not prance—at least some of the time? Maybe not in worship; I am an adult, after all, and a priest! But why not approach worship with a keen anticipation that something good will happen? Why not expect at least my heart to leap?
adapted from Timothy’s book, Nurturing Your Child’s Soul