Worship

it seems, is a magical space
where spirit in its fashion may go 
when seeking silence,
always tinged with the tickle of fear 
when approaching what it knows 
is Holy. 

Gongs, for heaven’s sake, are unneeded. 
There should be no sound
beyond that of unconscious breathing 
that signals presence of the Holy
and the press of Grace.

Kneeling is a sign of respect, 
as is the bowing: 
these are outward signs 
of respect and a humble spirit 
where arrival of the Host is expected;

sacred fear or shame
that Holiness--like a shock--may trigger
or a flow of tears, 
strong beating of the chambers of the heart 
that sustain your life: 

That is all you hear in the silence,
otherwise aware of a special union 
that may be suspect. 
Just listen.
That is why you have come. 

What you find is silence
and want to be finally sure
there are no mistakes, 
no excuse for not carefully noting 
what you’re told to do.

That’s what’s so strange about silence,
since you have no proof
that something critical has happened 
and what you’ve heard. 
What was it you wanted to know? 

That God is a living person 
and can speak to you directly
if you wish to listen 
to what has been called “a small voice”
in expectant silence. 

You can even identify the “subject”
choose a place and time 
of your convenience.
You may even initiate. 
It is up to you.

Then, sometimes, it’s not up to you.
Not when God steps in uninvited
and requires you to listen.
You can neither answer nor object.

You can only do,
even something you’re afraid to do.
But you have no choice
and no one other than you will understand,
even not approve. 

There you stand stark naked. 

Life or death is not up to you.
You have no choice:
It’s much the same if you’re chosen
(like God’s own son) from your birth.

It’s a lonely road,
but a road that’s both blessing and curse.
What’s worse
is not to be chosen.

Then, of course, all your life you’re unnoticed. 
You have no voice. 
But it never was your choice.