Processions give us a glimpse into the manifold ways in which early Christians performed their Christianity, through the position, and movement of bodies, and everything else that involved…
This morning the town of Freeport celebrated the 248th year of American independence in typical fashion: with a parade.
Now, you might be thinking: “He’s about to write on patriotism, nationalism, and Christianity, here we go…”
Actually, no, not today! Although that is a vital topic to consider… No, rather than focusing on the cause of such celebration, I would like to focus on the celebration itself: the parade.
Believe it or not, Christians have participated in parades – or processions– for almost 1700 years.
Processions can be defined quite simply as “groups of people moving in formal arrangements along a particular route in the landscape.”
Scholar of religion David Frankfurter writes, “Indeed, we may say that processions provided the principal means of Christianizing a landscape—integrating topography with legend, ideology, and some kind of collective Christian identity. Through processions and their routes, participants learned what sites were focal and which marginalized, what songs or prayers or legends corresponded to which stages along a route.”
Another scholar writes, “Processions may be studied from a ‘bird's eye view,’ mapping the route and locating the stops along the way.” However, this approach limits one’s perspective to “an aerial vantage point, distant from the walkers themselves.”
“By contrast a walkers’ view considers processions closer to ground level—how it feels to walk on uneven stone, sense the perfumes, sounds, and movement of processants.”
After Christianity was legalized, church leaders and local populations came up with all sort of reasons to hold processions! These “Christian parades” thus animated life in ancient cities and in the countryside.
“Each gathering had its own costumes, participants, topography, and ceremonies performed at various stops,” writes Georgia Frank. Onlookers, even from a distance, recognized such spectacles by their “sounds, smells, attire, and the animals and objects that were pulled or carried.”
Frank focuses on portabilia, the objects processants would wear or carry during such parades, but given our town’s celebration on Thursday, I am interested in the procession form itself.
What compels human beings to band together wearing distinct clothing, holding certain objects, and moving through a landscape or built environment in an orderly fashion? And what about this is so appealing to humans that they do it again and again and again (multiple times a year considering my town’s different parades)?
My hypothesis? Parades or processions, especially those of the late antique Mediterranean world, engage persons in their full humanity: sights, sounds, smells, emotions, memories, dispositions, and the surrounding environment all converge to produce a profoundly holistic human experience.
“Processions packed the streets in antiquity. Groups moved in formation, halting at designated spots and filling the city with music, bellowing animals, colorful fabrics, flower garlands, and incense boxes, as shouts and acclamations resounded.”
The physicality of such processions stands out: “Breathing in the fragrant blossoms, the perfumes, and incense, processants caried objects in their hands, on their shoulders or heads, or on wheels. In addition to touching or clasping an object, the processant might feel their own balance and gait affected by the weight and bulk of the object, sense its heat in the Mediterranean sun, or catch a streetlamp’s reflection after dark.”
Why am I telling you this? Well, for many in the modern West, Christianity has to do only with the mind and the soul, not the body. Sure, Christian texts have loads to say about the body –what to do with it, (more often) what not to do with it– but we’re still operating in the realm of information, knowledge, and moral decision-making.
For Christians of the first six centuries, however, religious activity was, well… embodied.
Standing with raised hands, kneeling with foreheads to the earth, swaying to the sounds of stringed instruments or throaty voices, early Christians performed their religion not only in their minds, but in their bodies too.
Processions give us a glimpse then into the manifold ways in which early Christians performed their Christianity, through the position, and movement of bodies, and everything else that involved…
Bodies sensed other bodies via all five senses; objects carried or worn as processants traversed meaningful landscapes; emotions welled up in the soul as memories were triggered and released. Such rituals “charged” ancient Christians with an intense, holistic experience of God.
A modern analogue to this experience is the Christian service of worship.
So often, Sunday morning services are designed with two things in view: the heart and the mind. So much of the human being is missed, however, when we fail to consider the body and its relation to objects and space.
Feeling the wood of the church door, sliding and slouching into the oaken pew, smelling the faint incense or candle wax burning at the altar (or perhaps even the stale coffee from last week!): these are elements of a Sunday morning experience, which I believe can be moments of divine encounter.
In sum, I am not trying to convince you to integrate processions into your regular Christian experience! (Although if you feel led, more power to you!)
My aim, rather, is to lead you to take the body seriously when it comes to Christian worship. Sway with the music, sense the wood of the old pews, gaze at the candle flames a little longer than you normally would. Let God engage you as a fully embodied creature, beyond just the sermon, beyond just the songs.
To be an embodied Christian is to join the thousands who came before us who experienced God in precisely this way. Let us join this ancient procession, which has been active for hundreds upon hundreds of years.
We don’t have bodies, we are bodies. Let God meet you there.
Jonah Bissell
Pastor