
My church is a small one, a tiny stone church nestled in azaleas, hollies and dogwoods in the Southern landscape. Inside we do all the things Episcopalians do, but we do it in what is considered "high church" style, sometimes referred to as "anglo-catholic". That means that we attend to many precise liturgical details - like dressing up for company and observing well worn traditions infused with meaning that deepens for the observance with each passing year. It is the equivalent of using our fine china for guests, lighting a yule fire at Christmas and hanging flags and lanterns in the garden for the 4th of July. Do not misunderstand. We are not putting on the dog or being superstitious; we are sacramental...very sensually sacramental.
A sacramental faith is one that observes worship in a particular form and with particular objects, or matter. Form and matter. We cross, bow when the processional cross passes, kneel, reverence the altar, use bees wax candles, incense, sanctus bells and so on. We use our bodies and words to demonstrate deep spiritual truths (form), and we lovingly infuse our worship with objects of beauty to delight the senses (matter). In the words of Richard Hooker, a sacrament is "an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace." Ah, can it be said any sweeter for those who have ears to hear? I think not.
To this day there is resistence to sacramental worship. I am not sure that I will ever understand why thoughts are superior to actions, why casual is superior to ritual, why beauty and ancient actions inspire fear. Is it the fear of the sensual? Has so much of Christianity bought into the idea of the spiritual good and physical bad? You should see a funeral at my church. We are in the Baptist Bible belt. Baptists come to our church and reject the Eucharist!!! Reject the body and blood of Christ because of how it is packaged. They often reject the Prayer Book, reject the kneeler and ultimately reject the Eucharist. I have purely felt the resistance and antagonism.
But I do not care. I propose that we heartily celebrate sensual pleasures.
God made us with eyes, ears, noses, skin and taste buds. This is how we were so wonderfully made, and I am weary of apologizing for being human with a heart that swells by visions of light streaming through windows and delights in the musical sighing of the reed. Hallelujah for our senses; hallelujah for sensual pleasures; may we savor existence and celebrate sensuality no where more than in our worship, remembering that Christ made a bridge between the human and the divine where we may freely pass back and forth. That should happen during worship, and it does happen in my tiny stone church nestled in azaleas, hollies and dogwoods in the Southern landscape where the veil is thinnest during the Eucharist and the bridge beckons saints on either side to meet in the middle.