When I fall on my knees with my face to the rising sun, O Lord, have mercy on me.
—Afro-American spiritual (Acts 2:42)
When I accepted an invitation to share aspects of my prayer life with a small group I found myself taking inventory of practices of reverence that were integral to my life and experiences of God. They are rooted in body and form, some actually extend beyond my personal experience, but I find them interesting. They are practices of which I’ve been curious and appreciate for the insights they might offer in understanding prayer, the body, and holiness.
To begin, waking up and simply placing the palms of my hands together in what is commonly called “prayer pose” sets the tone for my day. Expressing gratitude for another opportunity to breathe and move into unfolding relationships is a blessing, with some planned and many spontaneous events that are gifts from spirit.
Holding our hands together in prayer is ancient and crosses many faith traditions. In fact, it’s such a natural and invaluable part of our lives that it can easily be taken for granted, losing sight of the truth it speaks. We enter the habit more often when we find ourselves in troubled waters and fail to recognize that we are implored to pray through everything nonstop (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18). How do we make that happen seamlessly throughout the day?
Think about it. When the palms of your hands are pressed together it is really hard to be aggressive and combative. Resting your hands on top of each other over your heart soothes the nervous system sending ripples of vitality through our bodies and out into the universe—it’s a small step toward wholeness. Because of the stillness and lack of visible force, it’s hard to know the full extent of such an honorable position in expressing gratitude, humility, and forgiveness.
Besides the prayer pose other reverent postures have been part of my life since childhood. At an early age I was invited to bow, kneel, and genuflect, as an act of reverence to a higher source or as a sign of respect. I remember learning to bow, as a courtesy to our dance teacher. Although, I imagine for most lessons it was a request for forgiveness for enduring our miserable attempts at dance, and our childish, uninhibited explosions into creative expression that often got out of hand. Either way, in the end—holding our fluffy tutus— we did our very best to execute a respectful curtsey without falling over.
Kneeling, that more sustained state on the knees, though meant as veneration sometimes was used as a disciplinary tactic. Although I’m sure in some cases, afterwards, holiness came to the fore at least temporarily. In my experience with long term kneeling I quickly learned that the more I fidgeted the more unpleasant the posture became. Thankfully, I only had to endure this time of self-examination once after a childish transgression to learn how to behave more appropriately.
Genuflecting, the posture in between bowing and kneeling requires going down on one knee and coming up to proceed into a procession or some other position. It is recognized universally as an expression of awe or devotion.
Sitting in contemplation is a posture that has increased in frequency in my prayer practice over the past few years. It seems a rather nebulous and useless position, as we do so much sitting in today’s society. But, with an elongated spine, hands resting in the lap or on the thighs, feet on the floor or legs crossed; it holds a place of wonderment that is difficult to describe. Even 5-minutes in this posture creates a shift in energy. Done in the company of another person, afterwards it can lead to a conversation that is open and unprescribed. You are both the witness and participant to the unfolding conversation between two visible humans, with an unseen presence facilitating the exchange of words (Matthew 18:20). When this happens, it is quite extraordinary. The subtle gaps between words and the breath seem to hold everything together allowing for love to flow.
Consider the position of standing, feeling grounded, rooted like a tree and yet, reaching toward the sky. Recognizing the holy connection between earth and heaven is invaluable to the experience of moving around a labyrinth, for example. Focusing on gently placing each foot on the ground in the circular winding pattern one enters the center of the space within which they are walking and the center within themselves. It’s a fully-embodied prayer without words. We give way to mental activity and melt into the body, into the heart of our being. Much can happen in this experience also, especially if done outside in nature. An insight that resonates with me regarding the labyrinth is from Lauren Artress’ Walking A Sacred Path.
The labyrinth is truly a tool for transformation. It is a crucible for change, a blueprint for the sacred meeting of psyche and soul, a field of light, a cosmic dance. It is a center for empowering ritual. It is a container where we can meet angels and recover the great-grandmother’s thread, the web of Mary, and the gracious, nurturing God.
Another ancient sign of respect is the kiss of peace, sometimes not necessarily a kiss on the cheek, but a handshake, perhaps inspired by the invitation: “Greet one another with a holy kiss” (1 Corinthians 16:20). This is more than a benevolent exchange between neighbors, but expresses the unity and harmony derived from sharing a meal through Christ. Imagine if that practice were extended beyond a worship service among church members and became a visible bond shared with everyone we encountered.
From the late 18th-mid19th century, a religious sect, the Shakers engaged in less sedate movements. Their worship included shaking. They were fully embodied during their Sabbaths with song and dance, sometimes vigorous. There is no way of knowing for sure what the specific actions were, as there are no documented video recordings of what were reported to being sometimes chaotic and boisterous gestures. However, the dancer in me knows the value of shaking to release pent-up anxiety and frustration, perhaps that was the purpose of their movements, if not also allowing internal space for healing to occur.
We do know that their preparation for eucharist was an elaborate affair that included collecting the bounty from their gardens, preparing a festive meal and baking fresh bread. These activities culminated in an elegant procession of sharing their food gifts first with the elders who in turn reciprocated. All the while, during the humble ceremony, an individual moved throughout the procession chanting a blessing for the community. Though subject to ridicule because of their nonconformity to societal conventions, it should be noted that a couple of their virtues were a simple lifestyle and care for the environment.
Another homage to God originates in Turkey with the dervishes. It is an active meditative prayer. The continuous steady twirling is hypnotic, requiring both a letting go and a re-focusing on something beyond the self. I’ve observed the mesmerizing quality of this action in awe, acknowledging the considerable inner awareness, steadiness, and trust to keep turning for an extended period of time without getting dizzy. I’m convinced it is a profound style of prayer.
I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that for me, sacred dance is the most meaningful mode of reverence. Since first discovering dance as a youngster, movement and the holy were interchangeable. Intuitively I constructed the idea of the body as a vessel for prayer and also realized that were it not for a divine force interceding on my behalf, I would not be dancing and most assuredly, not classical ballet. While I have presented dance in worship settings, the experience is most cherished when done secretly (Matthew 6:6), where I am sometimes stirred by musical choices from classical to contemporary, allowing the words or sounds, or silence to meet the body in holy resonance. The beauty of the sacred dance is that it keeps reverberating even after the activity—enriching the cells and nourishing the soul.
From my experiences something miraculous happens in the union of quiet spaces and reverent movements. Perhaps the difficulty in attempting to put words to feelings and sensations so transcendent and timeless is an unintegrated dissonance in the human brain, which wants to interpret, diagnose, and separate various elements for study. I believe the truth lies in the simplicity of the movements where the ability to quiet an overactive mind takes precedence leading to a state of utter bliss. This elevated state of quietness is so rare—but can be learned with practice. It is critical to our being fully present in and to the world.
This calmness of being is in fact the arena where alignment with something greater than my personal self rests. Where a magnificent congruence of reverence exists, an expression of the body as prayer “a longing of the soul” arises, says Mahatma Gandhi. When the body is centered the restless mind gives way to the heart. One thing is certain, whether we notice it immediately, much later or not at all, during prayer a meeting occurs—a meeting of the soul with God.
As you can see there are many avenues to the sacred. You may even have your own that evolved out of a personal experience with the divine. It is clear that any time, but especially in challenging times prayer is the golden thread serving as the antidote to negativity, hopelessness, and fear. This meaning can be extracted from the words of Richard Rohr:
To practice contemplative prayer is to practice being in loving relationship with everything and even with oneself. Those who fall into the safety net of Divine Silence find that it is not at all a fall into individualism, but just the opposite. True prayer or contemplation is a leap into commonality, community, and connection. You know that what you are experiencing is also enjoyed by the Whole and that you are not alone anymore.
May you abide within your body and shatter the external morass with your holiness.
Beautiful thank you Diana