108 Hearing, but not Seeing

“Humans first located the soul in creation—sensing divine breath in the earth, water, wind and fire—and then moved it to the human heart (thanks to a fit of Renaissance self-centeredness and the influence of Eastern medicine), before finally exiling the soul to the brain” writes Nathan Bierma at his Books and Culture Blog. When I read that I said to myself, “but sensing the divine these days, at least in church, isn’t between the ears, it is IN the ears!”

Today I had jokingly told Linda Langhorst, the artist whose work we were dedicating after the 9 a.m. service with comments from the Visual Arts Ministry, the President of the Congregation, and prayer by a pastor, that many in our congregation were “visually challenged,” not in the sense of being blind, but just being oblivious to visual art and its role in worship. We had to move the coffee cart from in front of the very large framed drawing we were planning to dedicate--and someone puts it there almost every Sunday. They just don’t see art. On the second floor gallery where we have an art show of 80 pieces, someone from the Sunday School has attached a large collage of children’s handprints to the wall to advertise Vacation Bible School. We frequently have to move the huge VCR stands and the coat racks so people can see the art. An upcoming concert at the end of the month is being advertised with posters taped to walls and mirrors and windows.

Reading further in Bierma’s blog I read “But what scientists don't know is how the brain integrates the visual pieces it collects. "There is no one 'visual cortex,'" [Steven] Rose explains. "Rather, there are a number of discrete cell ensembles, each analysing different features of the world." That is why there are different kinds of visual impairment—some affecting perception of color, others movement, others depth. But when it comes to "perceptual unity," Rose says, "there is no homunculus in the brain putting it all together."

So perhaps ours is a congregation that lacks “perceptual unity,” a few cells short of a full ensemble--except in music, the louder the better, to which we can swing, sway, clap and roll coffee carts.