Pantless-King-David image from www.barbaragriffiths.com
When I was about seventeen and a regular warrior of self-righteousness, I went with my family to an unfamiliar parish during a vacation in Rhode Island. I was then in the habit of kneeling for Communion, as was my younger brother. He was ahead of me in line. When he knelt, the priest hissed, “Stand up!” Surprised, he did. More or less spoiling for a fight, I knelt down in my turn. When the priest told me to stand up, I shook my head tightly. So he pursed his lips and administered the Sacrament.
After Mass, not quite ready to let it go, I went up to him and said I hadn’t meant any disrespect, but that I was trying to give the Sacrament the reverence that was appropriate. He responded angrily, and our conversation ended with him asking our family never to come back. I went home feeling victorious, certain that all this had been more or less reckoned to me as righteousness.
I don’t know which of us was right, or maybe it’s better to say I don’t know which of us was more wrong. My desire to kneel came less from true reverence than from what the priest accused me of: ostentation. On the other hand, his reaction was so strong as to be bizarre. No doubt I had touched some nerve of his, and maybe that nerve was raw for a good reason. I’ll never know.
Whoever was wrongest, it’s easy to forget the importance of physical reverence — or to overemphasize it. Screwtape has this to say on the subject:
At the very least, they can be persuaded that the bodily position makes no difference to their prayers; for they constantly forget, what you must always remember, that they are animals and that whatever their bodies do affects their souls.
I am much inclined to be lazy during prayer, and like to disguise that laziness as a healthy understanding of the personal nature of my relationship with Jesus: my other friends don’t insist that I maintain correct posture when talking to them, so why would He? C’mon, Jesus, don’t be so formal. Loosen up a little!
Aaaaay!
But then He is not just my friend, but also my King and my God. Sort of a tricky line to walk, sometimes.
Too much rigidity on the subject is just as damaging as too much laxity. In the Scriptures, we have the “immoral woman” of Luke’s gospel, making a real slob of herself at Simon the Pharisee’s house, falling all over Jesus’ feet and sobbing. (“Stand up!” Simon practically hisses at her. “You’re making a scene!”) We have King David in 2 Samuel, acting like this:
Wearing a linen ephod, David was dancing before the Lord with all his might, while he and all Israel were bringing up the ark of the Lord with shouts and the sound of trumpets…[and] Michal daughter of Saul watched from a window. And when she saw King David leaping and dancing before the Lord, she despised him in her heart.
Neither Simon nor Michal come out of these episodes exactly smelling like roses. Simon gets roundly rebuked by Jesus (ouch), and as for Michal, she “had no more children until the day of her death” (double, triple ouch).
Before we all start going to adoration in linen ephods, though (or even less!), it’s a good idea to remember that David and the sinful woman were acting out of profound love, a love that caused them to forget themselves and their own dignity entirely. If you think you love Jesus as much as they did, well…tread carefully, that’s all.
It all comes down to what St. Augustine said: “Love God and do what you will.” Just make sure you get the first part right before jumping ahead to the second.
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