
Introduction
Sally Ann McKinsey
Sally Ann McKinsey is editor of Call to Worship.

I have experienced many flashes of beauty in worship over the years, moments that make the hair on my arms stand up or bring tears. We all know the kind. Usually, they accompany the celebration of sacraments, a critical turn of phrase in a sermon, or a time when voices join to sing God’s praise. My most recent hair-raising moment did not come from the preacher or the music, but from the hands of a woman sitting in the back row with me at North Anderson Community Church Presbyterian in Anderson, South Carolina. Just as the room went silent for the Scripture reading that day, my three-month-old child began to cry. Baby in arms, I stood up and moved to the edge of the sanctuary, swaying and bouncing to calm him.
While I worried about the disruption, my mind racing with the decision before me—continue my awkward dance or carry him out—Cynthia was already halfway to the nursery down the hall. Before I could plan my next move, my baby quieted as I swayed in the large rocking chair she had carried into the sanctuary and placed behind me. Instead of giving me a side-eye indicating my baby needed to go cry somewhere else, Cynthia sensed my needs and changed the environment so that we could be part of worship. I can identify this moment as one in which liturgy was the physical work of the people, one person laboring so that another may be able to be part of the body just as they are.
The words of hymn #301 in Glory to God, “Let Us Build a House,” often run through my head and heart in hopeless moments, when hate, violence, injustice, and division seem to consume this country and world: “Let us build a house where love can dwell and all can safely live . . .” Space for worship should indeed be space where “all are welcome,” as that hymn goes on to proclaim. Building this kind of space takes intentional action on the part of each member of each community. In a culture and country where violence and inequality have become normalized, congregations have a responsibility to build spaces that resist the dominant narrative.
Contributors to this issue reflect on the theological implications of such decisions in worship. They give material suggestions for how we may investigate our spaces critically, exercise honesty about whether those spaces reflect what we say we believe, and activate our theology in the space we share. Articles in this issue address the intersection of disability studies and liturgical theology, worship with creation, and other interpretations of “shared space,” including daily prayer for sustainable ministry, online worship, and vocabulary for visual literacy.
Kiara Jorgenson develops concrete suggestions for worship based on a deep analysis of how we might approach neurodiversity with a theological lens. Her research at the intersection of faith formation, worship, and what she calls “neurospiciness” educates and inspires. Alexandra Jacob and Sonja Dziekciowski share a conversation about the importance of supporting neurodiversity in their work with children and youth, reflecting on the pastoral lens they bring to worship leadership. Rebecca Spurrier also recognizes the impact that difference and diversity have on liturgical decisions and names the special awareness church leaders need to create spaces of belonging.
Erina Kim-Eubanks shares her perspective as a pastor of a congregation that continues to meet online, analyzing the ways the congregation’s theological convictions have shaped their practical life together. Karl Heimbuck offers a reflection on his experience with the Book of Common Worship’s Daily Prayer liturgies, giving suggestions for the ways this resource might transform worship in the sanctuary and beyond. Carol Soderholm gives a reflection on what it means to worship with creation.
Catherine Kapikian has contributed a primer for visual literacy that worship committees and church leaders can use to expand their understanding of visual elements and principles as we critically engage our spaces for worship. Her work will be particularly helpful when reading the fascinating conversation I had with stained-glass artist Steve Wilson, who shares his perspective on color and light and the place of stained glass in art history in the Work of Our Hands section. His work pairing an old medium with context-specific imagery and design invites us all to wonder about the ways we interpret ancient practice in new times.
The church operates in a time of profound alienation, when systems built by racism, nationalism, colonialism, and capitalism keep us from being present with one another and with creation. These systems, normalized over time, are at odds with the gospel. It is more important than ever that we articulate our theology of belonging with God and one another through physical space, with our words and our bodies in worship. May we continue to investigate the practices we may take for granted, being transformed by the God who has chosen to share space with us through Jesus Christ, the Word made flesh.