Friday, April 24, 2015

On Our Knees

I have been introduced recently to the Franciscan preacher, teacher, and monk, Richard Rohr.  Since then I've been voraciously reading everything of his that I can put my hands on.  I recently encountered a line that really jumped out at me:

I do not want to belong to a religion that cannot kneel.

Let that sink in for a moment.  Sit with it, as it were.  I've had these words circling around in my brain and heart since coming across them a couple of days ago, and I realize that I don't either.  Yet I do.

There's a paragraph that was written by a teenage member of the Unitarian Church of Ithaca, NY, after their youth group visited a local Benedictine Monastery for vespers.  (It was originally published in their church newsletter; I first came across it in the Worship Reader compiled by the Congregation of Abraxas.

“In the chapel there were only a few people watching the service, and I sat in front of them.  I wanted the sensation of being alone there.  I wanted to be open to the beauty of the chapel and the circle of monks and to the chanting.  And I see now that I wanted more than that.  I wanted thru some sort of magic to enter into the service, not simply because its forms were beautiful, but because they seemed at once mysterious and full of meaning. . . .  The monks knelt and rose and bowed; bowing, their bodies bent forward from the waist, torsos almost horizontal.  But I could not move. . . .  I was brought up I this [Unitarian] church where no one kneels and no one bows.  Physically I’m very inhibited, so that I don’t move easily.  And when has it ever been suggested that I might kneel, even figuratively kneel, before or to something?  I wanted to kneel, that’s the important thing.  But I could not. . . .  To kneel and to mean it would be frightening because there is a darkness in the kneeling and a darkness in us which we cannot reason about.  You [Unitarians] teach the fear of form without meaning, and that is right; but having avoided forms, you have sometimes avoided the darkness, and it is from the darkness that the real questions arise.” [Italics are mine.]

Not that long ago the Christian Fellowship in the church I serve held a communion service.  Afterward, one of the members came up to me and, very excitedly, told me that they had "used the original words."  By this she'd meant that they'd sung, "Let us break bread together on our knees" instead the oft used variation, "Let us break bread together you and me."  When has it ever been suggested that we might kneel, even figuratively kneel, before or to something?

That teenager sure had it right -- to kneel and to mean it -- would be frightening.  Is frightening.  It means acknowledging that we are not the Grand High Poohbah of All Existence.  As the Rev. Barbara Merrit put once put it, "Whether or not we believe in God, we must recognize that we ourselves are not God."  And that means, ultimately, recognizing that there is absolutely nothing we can do to control the Universe and our part in it.  We cannot guarantee success for ourselves and our friends and doom for our enemies.  We cannot ensure that things will work out as we wish they would -- that we always will be safe, happy, and secure.  We just can't.  And whether or not we believe that there is some kind of Sacred Something that is holding us through it all, we do need to come to terms with the fact -- the inescapable and undeniable fact -- that we are not in charge.  That can be a terrifying thing for some of us, and kneeling -- and meaning it -- can be an embodiment of this truth.

If you haven't done it in a while, I encourage you to do so.  Kneel.  Literally get down on your knees
and see how it feels.  (Not so much how it feels in your knees and hips, but how it feels in your heart.)  Bow your head even, maybe, or lift it upward.  Do this in your home in front of a home altar or, just the end of your bed.  Do this in the sanctuary, before or during the service, with or without other people there.  Do this outside, in the woods or just a corner of your yard.

Richard Rohr said, "I do not want to be part of a religion that cannot kneel."  Neither should you.

Pax tecum,

RevWik


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6 comments:

Mike Ludwick said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Mike Ludwick said...

Wik, It may please you to know that #406 in our UU "Singing the Living Tradition" hymnal are the words "Let us break bread together on our knees." If the "Let us break together, you and me" is "oft used" I would be surprised since that is a variation I made up! :-) I wish my variation were more "oft used" because I think it more accurately reflects how we live our lives. How often do we break bread, drink wine or praise God on our knees? Never. And "Let us break bread together on our butts" just doesn't sound appealing. :-) Eating and drinking on our knees is just awkward, and many folks aren't fond of "praising God" at all. Some might argue that God doesn't need "praising" he needs us to get off our knees and get to work. If folks want to spend some time on their knees for whatever reason, more power to them, but I do not want to be part of religion that MAKES me kneel. I happened across this quote by Christian Larson, the person who wrote the Optimist Creed: “If you would serve God and be truly religious, do not kneel before God, but learn to walk with God, and do something tangible every day to increase the happiness of mankind. This is religion that is worthwhile, and it is such religion alone that can please the Infinite.”

Mike Ludwick said...

For anyone interested, here is my variation. Spread the word!

Let us break bread together you and me.
Let us break bread together you and me.
When we all feel at peace, gazing out at the rising sun
Oh, oh, how thankful are we!

Let us drink wine together you and me.
Let us drink wine together you and me.
When we all feel at peace, gazing out at the rising sun
Oh, oh, how thankful are we!

Let us love one another you and me.
Let us love one another you and me.
When we all feel at peace, gazing out at the rising sun
Oh, oh, how thankful are we!

Anonymous said...

Erik, I disagree with you. I am from one of the kneeling denominations. The action of kneeling embodies many of the reasons why I left that church. I can think of no reason I would want to be part of a religion that expects me to get down on my knees - and my knees can think of very good reasons for my not doing so. If UU were to add kneeling to its practices I'd be outta there!

RevWik said...

Thanks for bringing credit where it was due, Mike. I guess I somehow remembered hearing your version and projected it outward onto the rest of Unitarian Universalism as "something we would say."

RevWik said...

I'm curious, Anonymous, why/how "the action of kneeling embodies many of the reasons why I left that church." I am assuming that it has to do with the one-down position of it, the sense of one's own identity being degraded or denigrated. The "you are not worthy" thing. Am I close?

While I think I get that, I wonder whether there's a difference between having to and choosing to kneel. If I am forced onto my knees, required to assume a subservient position, that would both inwardly and outwardly communicate one thing. Yet if I choose to kneel it seems to me that it would communicate something entirely different. A letting go, if you will; an acknowledgment that I am not the be all and end all of things.

It's a good thing, I guess, that our Unitarian Universalist faith does not proscribe certain "practices" in which we must all engage. Some of us do kneel; and, as you demonstrate, some of us do not. No need to be "outta there" at al.