Public Displays of Affection for God

The New York Times has a funny article not on a devotional practice, but on the consequences of a devotional practice. As we all know, devout Muslims pray five times a day in the direction of Mecca as one of the five pillars of their faith. The news regularly runs footage of crowds kneeling in devotion, bowing their heads to the floor while Arabic is chanted through a loudspeaker. Apparently, all this bowing one’s head to the floor leaves a mark—literally:

The zebibah, Arabic for raisin, is a dark circle of callused skin, or in some cases a protruding bump, between the hairline and the eyebrows. It emerges on the spot where worshipers press their foreheads into the ground during their daily prayers.

It may sometimes look like a painful wound, but in Egypt it is worn proudly, the way American professionals in the 1980s felt good about the dark circles under their eyes as a sign of long work hours and little sleep.

This then begs the question of what the different practices of Christian piety would do to the human body, and whether they would be as cool as the zebibah. The easy answer to this comes from Orthodox priests and the Friars of Renewal whose beards never cease to amaze. But beards aren’t really the consequence of practices of piety in the same way that a zebibah is. Maybe one could find charismatics with callouses from so much clapping, or Eastern Christians with extra flexibility from their full-body bowing and crossing. Once, in fact, I sat in on a conversation about an old Anglican priest and how his creaky joints were no doubt due to the countless genuflections on hard marble at masses over the years.

If any contributors have thoughts on this matter, I’d be interested in hearing them. Of course, piety isn’t just about the inherent coolness of beards, maniples, or forehead-callouses, and the article ends on a note reminding us the true importance of devotional practices:

“You pray, but it doesn’t come out,” said Muhammad Hojri, 23, as he gently teased his brother, Mahmoud, 21, recently while they worked in a family kebab restaurant. Muhammad has a mark. Mahmoud does not, and did not appreciate his brother’s ribbing.

“I pray for God, not for this thing on my forehead,” Mahmoud shot back.