Copyright: © 2004 Paul F. Bosch.
This document may be freely reproduced for non-commercial purposes with credit to the author and mention of the Lift Up Your Hearts web site http://www.worship.ca/ as the source.

I can remember attending a week-long church conference some years back that featured a free evening on its schedule. I proposed to a friend, also attending, that we take advantage of the night off and go to a movie. I suggested my choice to her: one of those mindless Hollywood thrillers that feature enormous explosions and heart-pounding car crashes and characters dying in splatters of blood. Her reply caught me off guard and taught me something.

"No thanks," she said. "I don't want to watch that stuff anymore. It stays with you. As the man says, 'You are what you eat.' And that's as true of the trash that comes in through your eye as it is of the junk food you put in your mouth."

Her response left me chastened and ashamed.

One of my mentors in ministry has reported that early Teachers of the Church would sometimes speak of "the custody of the eyes." By this they were apparently referring to a discipline required of worship leaders that's not often remarked upon among us today. It's this: Where is the worship leader looking?

What is the presider or pastor or bishop gazing upon, in this or that moment of worship leadership? Whatever that is --wherever the worship leader fixes his gaze, her gaze-- that signals significance for other worshippers. It sends a message: "This is important, folks."

I hadn't thought of that before, in my own ministry. But I've come to appreciate the truth of that notion. When I'm up front in Christian worship, in a role of leadership, I'd better be conscious of what I'm looking at. (There's that "observing ego" at work again! See Essay 78 above.)

I've made the point before here that worship leaders are unavoidably under scrutiny when they're doing their job. More so than other actors in this "drama", worship leaders are inescapably being watched, being looked at, at every moment of their serving. It's simply part of the burden you assume when you take on the role of worship leader. Someone is watching you, finding meaning in what you're doing. Searching you out for the signals you're sending. So "the custody of the eyes" is not an unimportant part of your ministry in that moment. Other worshippers observe what you're doing. Others watch what you're watching.

Some cases in point: Where do you look, where do you fix your gaze, when you're reading scripture as lector or Gospeler? I've mentioned in Essay 53 the synagogue tradition of keeping your eyes on the text in front of you as you read. That seemed to me at first counter-intuitive: Counter to the injunctions I received even as a kid when I was asked to read aloud in class in grade school, and counter too to my own instincts to make eye contact with my listeners as I read.

But I like the honour to the text that those eyes-on-the-page present. And as I've discovered, a good reader can read with expression and conviction and passion, even when eyes are glued to the page. I wouldn't insist on it: Most relatively untrained readers can't get away with it. Most readers need that eye-contact with their auditors. But a really good, really well-trained reader might try to follow that tradition from the synagogue, at least on occasion, and see what that "custody of the eyes" feels like.

Preaching? You've had the experience of listening to a sermon where the preacher steadfastly avoids eye contact with you. Since I sit in the assembly most often these days, in my retirement, as one among other laypeople, I find the experience unnerving, to say the least. I find myself most often flooded with empathic pity for the preacher: He must be every uncomfortable in his assignment, I say to myself. Or uncertain as to his own skills. Or unsure of his message.

Honour the people, the "custody of the eyes" suggests, by looking at them. Even if it's difficult for you. Your audience will thank you for it.

And as worshipper? Honour the preacher, the reader by looking at her. Not hiding behind the head in front. Not reading on your own from a paper pamphlet or pew Bible. But forcing yourself --that's what it sometimes takes: force, the force of will-- to make eye contact with the one who's reading, the one who's preaching. She'll thank you for it.

Prayer? The custody of eyes here is more complex. The one who prays must constantly keep in mind the direction of discourse. To whom are you speaking? That's the crucial question. To the people? Then look at them. No orans posture, but a simple neutral. To God? Then orans, looking up and out, unfocussed, or towards infinity.

I can recall another worship conference where the leader, at public prayer, performed a kind of charming, un-self-conscious ritual dance, thus:

1. "In peace, let us pray to the Lord." Spoken to the people. Thus, no orans, but rather a simple neutral. Hands loosely joined at the waist. Eyes open, looking at the people...
2. "Lord, have mercy." Addressed not to the people, but to God. Hence, orans: arms spread open and out, palms up in that lovely gesture of receiving, head raised. Eyes open and up, focused on infinity...
3. "For the peace of the whole world...let us pray to the Lord." Spoken not to God, but to the people. The pronoun provides the cue Hence, neutral, as at 1)...
4. "Lord, have mercy." Addressed (You guessed it!) once again to God. Posture and eyes as at 2)...
5. And so forth...

The Great Thanksgiving? Still another challenge. It's a long prayer, addressed... to God. Even in the Words of Institution. I'd argue that even here, the one who prays will look up and out, not at the people. Those gracious words will be understood as grace, they will register with the people as proclamation, even if the people are not specifically looked at.

The Benediction? Of course: Spoken by presider to the people. The people looked at. Warmly. It's as if you're trying to lay both hands on each individual head in blessing. When it's done well: Lovely.

I must say I'm somewhat annoyed and more than a little outraged by the fuss being made in recent weeks about the notorious "wardrobe malfunction" in the SuperBowl Half-Time Show. If it's true that "You are what you eat", I confess those car crashes and blood-splattered bodies in Hollywood thrillers --and in Iraq-- sicken me more than a glimpse of Janet Jackson's nipple.

The principle of maintaining a "custody of the eyes" bears reflection among worship leaders. Watch out what you watch.