Pantomime

As a little girl I loved to pantomime.
I would go down my basement, where I kept my record player, and become a star.
I played record after record and was transported to a Broadway stage or a movie set.
I knew the words to every song by heart yet never made a sound.

It was not that I couldn’t sing.
I could sing; I really enjoyed singing.
However, our basement was right below the kitchen and sounds carried upstairs.
I didn’t want anyone to hear my performance.

I danced and held a turkey baster as my microphone.
I became the character with all the hand motions and gestures.
The show went on to uproarious applause.
That is until the basement door opened.

The music continued, but the performance ended.
The turkey baster was just a turkey baster.
The stage lights dimmed.
The audience went home.

Pantomime is the art or technique of conveying emotions, actions and feelings by gestures without speech; it is a play or entertainment in which the performers express themselves mutely by gestures often to the accompaniment of music.

Today, in the music industry, it is called lip-syncing.
Some artists will lip sync on a live awards show.
When live is expected but pantomime is performed instead, people feel cheated.
People are expecting the real thing and getting an imposter.

My pantomiming in my basement was harmless.
I was embarrassed to think that my performance would be seen or heard.
Yet one day, I was discovered.
My mother and aunt entered my silent world.

They came down the steps and asked me to show them what I had been doing.
They sat in chairs under the various posters I had hanging up on the wall.
They each looked too big for the chairs they were sitting in.
They were my captive audience.

I went over to the record player and placed the needle on the song.
It was the soundtrack from Thoroughly Modern Millie, and I was Julie Andrews.
I had somehow mastered the Charleston and other dances I had seen in the movie.
Their mouths hung open as they watched.

This time the uproarious applause was real.
Now they understood why they heard music and footsteps, but they didn’t hear me.
Never again would they wonder.
Never again would they open the basement door.

Broadway was transported to my basement.
I became all the actors and actresses put together.
I played all the parts, sang all the songs, and danced all the dances.
It was my silent show.

How many of us go through life pantomiming?
How many of us sit in church week after week and lip sync the prayers and the songs?
How many of us perform for a captive audience who will never know the difference?
How many of us consider the Audience of One?

There was a man named Elkanah whose wife was named Hannah.
Each year, Elkanah went up to Shiloh to worship and sacrifice to the Lord.
His wife, Hannah, could not have any children.
She was so distraught; she could not eat and she constantly wept.

Once when they had finished eating and drinking in Shiloh, Hannah stood up. Now Eli the priest was sitting on a chair by the doorpost of the Lord’s temple. In bitterness of soul, Hannah wept much and prayed to the Lord. And she made a vow, saying, “O Lord Almighty, if you will only look upon your servant’s misery and remember me, and not forget your servant but give her a son, then I will give him to the Lord for all the days of his life and no razor will ever be used on his head.” As she kept on praying to the Lord, Eli observed her mouth. Hannah was praying in her heart, and her lips were moving but her voice was not heard. Eli thought she was drunk and said to her, “How long will you keep on getting drunk? Get rid of your wine.” “Not so, my Lord,” Hannah replied, “I am a woman who is deeply troubled. I have not been drinking wine or beer; I was pouring out my soul to the Lord. Do not take your servant for a wicked woman; I have been praying here out of my great anguish and grief.” Eli answered, “Go in peace, and may the God of Israel grant you what you asked of Him.” (1 Samuel 1:9-17)

Hannah was pantomiming.
She was praying in her heart, her lips were moving but no sound could be heard.
Hannah’s actions were at first misunderstood.
Hannah’s prayers were answered and God gave her a son, who she named Samuel.

I do pantomime in church.
I will sing along during the choir’s solo performance; my lips moving with no sound.
I am singing along in my heart.
Many of us still pray that way.

Dishonest pantomiming, like the singer during the live awards show, is wrong.
Praying to ourselves or singing along with a choir’s solo performance is acceptable.
As in everything else, it is the heart behind the action.
We may be able to fool those around us, but God can open the basement door at any time.

Sounds do not necessarily mean that everything is honest.
Lack of sounds does not necessarily mean that everything is dishonest.
God knows if we are just going through the motions.
God, our Audience of One, knows the difference.

 

2 responses to “Pantomime”

1. Have you been watching me? I ‘read’ Scripture and follow along with the choir on the songs they sing too. It help me to concentrate on the words and keep my mind from straying as it is wont to do!

   Reply

   • Kindred spirits as we worship together as a church family.
     I’m glad I’m not the only one, Al.
     Gina

     Reply