In the long history of the English language, probably every possible thought, and every possible combination of words, has been expressed millions of times. Virtually all of our daily conversation consists of the same commonplace, pedestrian, predictable cliches.
It seems unlikely there can exist any sentence, phrase, or combination of words we can ever say in English that has not been spoken by some English-speaker, somewhere, before.
But maybe . . .
On Easter my wife and I were watching our church' worship-service online. When that broadcast was over, for whatever computer reason, the broadcast switched to the worship-service of (I think) the National Cathedral in Washington.
Like many whose experience of worship is almost entirely "low church," I'm always intrigued by how the other half worships.
Not to ridicule, or make self-flattering comparisons. It's always intriguing to see if there is, in other Christians' services, a sense of worshippers' hearts poured out in praise to God...and a sense of His Presence in their midst.
Quite often, there is. And it's an elevating God-honoring experience to enter into the spirit of worship with our "high church" brothers and sisters.
So it was on Easter, although their service was definitely different than anything we are used to.
The sumptuous and colorful vestments of the dignitaries, and the towering mitre of the Bishop, all seemed quite foreign. The energetic praise-songs of the black choir were less so: we've all enjoyed the rich music of America's black church, in numerous documentaries, if not in person. A woman gave the sermon (which she would probably have called a "homily"): and while that's a bit non-standard in our "Evangelical" tradition, I've been a member of a "conservative" church whose pastor was a woman.
Her sermon was powerful, evincing, and elevating listeners in, ardent love toward God. No question: she spoke God's word to God's people.
The rousing closing hymn, as choristers shouted loud "Hallelujah !!"s, raised the spirit of worship to even greater heights. And as the dignitaries, led by the Bishop, processed down the aisle to leave, I could see many of them were so in the spirit of worship that they were, like David, dancing (a bit) before the Lord.
The lesser dignitaries were somewhat restrained, their dancing mostly some rhythmic swaying and bobbing with the music: feeling self-conscious, perhaps, of the weight of their office, and of public display.
The Bishop much less so. I can't say he busted moves that would have won any dance-competition: but he gave his whole body to the spirit of worship, energetically enough that it seemed at times his mitre might fall off.
At that moment, I remarked to my wife what I think may be a completely unique English sentence, never before spoken by anyone, anywhere: "Man ! That bishop can really shake his booty !"
I'm thinking of patenting the words.
