CHAPTER 1
WHAT IS GODLY PLAY?
THE WORLD IS A DANGEROUS PLACE
A family in our church suffered the loss of the mother and one son in a caraccident. The father, one son and one daughter survived. The surviving son wasin my Godly Play class last year. When I told the story of The Great Family, Iasked what the most important part of the story was. The boy, then in secondgrade, said, "The part where you said the desert is a dangerous place is themost important because the world is a dangerous place. Bad things happen likecar accidents and people get so mad about it but it just happens."
Another child in the class looked at me and said, "Yeah, his mother and brotherwere killed in a car accident." Most of the other children seemed to know thisalready and were nodding their heads. I thought it was so important that thechildren could attempt to process this tragedy and wonder about it together.
—Cyndy Bishop, Godly Play Trainer
AN INVITATION TO GODLY PLAY
This really is an invitation to Godly Play. I can't make you play, because playdoesn't work that way. An essential quality of play is its freedom: its lack ofcompulsion. Do you want to play? Do you want to join in Godly Play? If you do,this book can be one way you begin to accept the invitation.
In Chapter 3, I'll explore play in more detail, as well as its counterfeit,pseudoplay, and its divine counterpart, grace. For now, though, I'll begin bydescribing what I mean by the word play. This five-part description, the one Iuse most often, is based on Catherine Garvey's book Play:
1. Play is pleasurable, enjoyable.
2. Play has no extrinsic goals. It is played for itself.
3. Play is spontaneous and voluntary. It is freely chosen by the player.
4. Play involves deep and active engagement on the part of the players.
5. Play has systematic relations to what is not play such as creativity, problemsolving, language learning, the development of social roles and a number ofother cognitive and social phenomena.
So there really has to be an invitation to play, not a directive based on poweror an argument from authority. For you to enter into Godly Play, you must findit enjoyable.
You must want to play it for its own sake. You must choose to play it becauseyou want to play that game. You must be willing to let go of the myriad mundanedetails of daily life and to enter deeply into the timelessness of play.
In Godly Play, the invitation is given not for play in general but for play withthe language of God and God's people: our sacred stories, parables, liturgicalactions and silences. Through this powerful language, through our wondering,through the community of players gathered together, we hear the deepestinvitation of all: an invitation to come play with God.
AN ADULT EXPERIENCE OF GODLY PLAY
To experience Godly Play, you don't need to pretend to be a child. Instead, youcan experience for yourself, as a teacher or parent, how a Godly Play sessionworks. If you know of a church with an established Godly Play program, find outif they offer a parent participation session that you might attend. You can alsosign up for a teacher accreditation event, offered around the country byexperienced Godly Play trainers accredited through the Center for the Theologyof Childhood (see Resources, p. 147). For now, though, I'll invite you to joinin one adult session we can imagine together right now.
AT THE THRESHHOLD
You approach the door of a Godly Play classroom. Seated by the door is a warm,inviting person—the door person for this Godly Play classroom. Something isalready different: you don't walk into this room rummaging through your pocketsfor a pen or chatting with a neighbor. At this doorway, people stop and getthemselves ready to go inside.
The door person smiles at you. "I'm so glad you're here. Are you ready?"
You think for a moment. Are you ready? Yes. This is why you've put this timeaside—to play. To play with the language of the Christian people. "Yes."
He nods at your answer, and then, because no one is pretending that this is aclassroom of children, asks two questions that children don't generally hear atthe door of a Godly Play room: "Would you like to sit on a chair or the floor?"and "Do you have a cell phone?"
BUILDING THE CIRCLE
Cell phones turned off, adults make their way into the room. Some sit on chairs.Others sit, as children in a Godly Play classroom sit, in a circle around thestoryteller. She is talking quietly and easily with the people in the circle. AGodly Play community begins right here, by building a circle where each andevery participant is warmly welcomed.
When everyone is welcomed, the circle is complete. Now the storyteller says, "Weneed to get ready for the story." She shows how to get ready by sitting quietly,legs crossed, hands at the ankles. The conversation becomes a silence filledwith expectation. She smiles and says, "Watch where I go to get this story."
PRESENTING THE LESSON
The storyteller moves to the desert box—a large, shallow, wooden box on wheels,filled with sand. She brings it to the circle. "Keep watching," she says andgoes to a shelf filled with beautiful items: a rack of seven wooden cards, anark with graceful lines, a length of heavy chain. She takes up a basket andbrings it to the circle. She opens the lid of the basket and gets herself readyagain; now all her attention is on the desert box in front of her. Your own eyesfollow her focus and watch the sand.
"The desert is a dangerous place," she says. Her hands slowly move across thesurface, smoothing and shifting the sand. "It is always moving, so it is hard toknow where you are. There is little water, so you get thirsty and you can die ifno water is found. Almost nothing grows there, so there is almost nothing toeat. In the daytime it is hot and the sun scorches your skin. In the night it iscold. When the wind blows, the sand stings when it hits you. People wear manyclothes to protect them from the sun and blowing sand. The desert is a dangerousplace. People do not go into the desert unless they have to."
She pauses. Then she lays out blue yarn and blocks of wood on the sand. Shetells how, after the flood, people went out to the four corners of the earth.They lived along rivers and in villages and in cities. "One city was named Ur."She touches a block. "The people there believed that there were many gods. Therewas a god for every tree, every rock, every flower. There was a god of the sky,the clouds, the water and the land. The world was alive with gods.
"But there was one family that believed that all of God was in every place. Theydid not yet know that, but that is what they thought." She places two woodenfigures in the sand and names them: Abram and Sarai, two members of the familywho thought that all of God was in every place.
"When it came time to move to a new place, they were not sure that God would bethere. So they wondered what the new place would be like." She moves the figuresslowly, one at a time, pausing often to keep them together, toward anotherblock. As she moves them, you can see the footprints they leave behind in thesand.
Your eyes focus where her own eyes and hands focus on the small wooden figuresmoving through the sand. Perhaps you feel a little impatient, wishing she wouldjust pick them up and put them by Haran. Perhaps memories of other times andways you have heard this story drift into your mind. Perhaps you feel a pang,remembering a journey of your own. Just by growing up, each of us has known whatit's like to leave behind a familiar situation for one that is at leastpartially unknown.
"It took a long, long time," she says. Finally, they arrive at Haran. Thestoryteller moves the Abram figure away from Haran, into the desert, where he'came so close to God, and God came so close to him', that Abram knew what theymust do: keep traveling. The journey continues, past Haran. They come toShechem, and Abram prays. God is there. "So Abram built an altar to mark theplace." She takes several stones from the basket and makes an altar in the sand.
She moves the figures slowly on. "Abram and Sarai come to Bethel, and God is inthis place, too." She takes more stones and builds another altar. "Finally theycome to Hebron and make their home. And there God changes their names: they areto be called Abraham and Sarah. God promises that even though they are old, theywill have a baby. Abraham laughs. He and Sarah are too old!"
The storyteller sits back, but keeps her eyes on the figures as she tells howthree strangers come and promise again that Abraham and Sarah will have a baby.Abraham and Sarah both laugh, "But do you know what happened?" the storytellerasks, her voice warm with pleasure. "They have a son. They laugh again, so theyname the baby Laughter, as God told them to do. In their language the word forlaughter is Isaac."
The storyteller pauses, and then her voice turns more serious as she tells howSarah died and how Abraham sent his most trusted helper to find a wife forIsaac. "The helper finds Rebekah, 'as full of courage as she was kind'. Thehelper tells her about Abraham, Sarah and Isaac, and Rebekah travels back tojoin the great family."
Once more the storyteller moves a figure on the journey, now traveling againover the path made by Abraham and Sarah. She brings the Rebekah figure all theway to where the figures of Abraham and Isaac are waiting. She pauses. "ThenIsaac and Rebekah had children, and their children had children, and thosechildren had children. This went on for thousands and thousands of years untilyour grandmothers and grandfathers had children. Then your mothers and fathershad children."
She scoops up a handful of sand, and lets it trickle out. "Now you are part ofthat great family which has become as many as the stars in the sky and thegrains of sand in the desert." She is so silent that you can almost hear yourown heartbeat quicken at the thought of that great family of which you, too, area part.
WONDERING
The storyteller sits back. Now, at last, she lifts her gaze and looks into theeyes of those seated in the circle as she asks, "I wonder which part of thisstory you like best?" She draws out the words, her voice careful and inviting.There is a silence almost electric with expectancy. Then one woman answers, "Iliked the part where they built altars, because God was in Shechem and Bethel,too."
The storyteller listens, then touches the two stone altars in the desert box."Altars ... because God was in those places, too." Her touch is deliberate,almost reverential.
She looks up again. This time the man sitting next to you speaks. "I like thepart where they named the baby Laughter." The storyteller grins and touches theIsaac figure. "They laughed again, and named their son Laughter," she repeats.
Two other people name their favorite parts of the story, then a comfortablesilence settles again. Now the storyteller asks, "I wonder which part of thisstory is the most important part?"
The first person to answer this question speaks more slowly, as if working outhis answer as he talks. "I think ... the part about how all of us are now part ofthe great family, too." The storyteller nods slowly. She lets sand spill fromher hand again as she says, "as many as the stars of the sky and the grains ofsand in the desert."
Others name the parts where the family finds out that all of God is in everyplace, or where the family moves to a new home but remains together.
The storyteller affirms each answer and then waits before asking her nextquestion. "I wonder where you are in this story, or what part of this story isabout you?"
One woman wrinkles her nose and says, "I think the part where Sarah laughed,because she thought God's promise couldn't come true is about me. Sometimes Godseems too good to be true!"
There is quiet laughter from several participants, but not a laughter thatridicules the woman. This laughter is a joyful affirmation of her words, thekind of laughter that says, "Yes, I've felt that way, too!" The storytellertouches the figure of Sarah and echoes, "And Sarah laughed."
An older man names the part of the story where Rebekah decides to join the greatfamily as being about him. The storyteller affirms his words as she touches theRebekah figure.
Finally the storyteller asks, "I wonder if there is any part of this story wecould leave out and still have all the story we need?"
People are quiet as they think about this. Perhaps you think of some details youfeel are unimportant: the names of the cities from which they came, or the waythat God changes the names of Abram and Sarai to Abraham and Sarah. Somelisteners offer tentative answers. One woman declares that she doesn't think anypart of the story can be left out.
The storyteller listens respectfully to every answer. She repeats it, touchesfigures in the sand to illustrate it, but she never calls one answer good oranother answer wrong. She simply listens and accepts the responses.
RESPONSE
Finally the wondering sinks into silence. She invites you to watch again as sheputs away the lesson, so you'll know where to find it. She asks you to thinkabout what work you would like to do in response to the lesson. She shows wherethere are art supplies waiting.
One woman chooses to work with the desert box, and soon she is seated on thefloor, leaning over the box, concentrating on moving the figures for herself. Aman says that he wants to paint and walks to where the door person helps him geta tray, a paintbrush, a set of paints and paper. Perhaps you choose to work withcrayons. You pick out three colors you want, and put them on a drawing boardwith a piece of paper.
You find a place in the room to work, and something strikes you about the waypeople move in silence. You've been in adult classes or groups where as soon asthe presenter stopped speaking, listeners began chattering. This is not whathappens here. Everyone has been involved in the story and the wondering. Nowthat absorbed involvement continues as people, one by one, name what responsethey choose to make and quietly rise to get their materials. For at least aquarter of an hour, people work at their responses. Some people make more thanone picture. One person has gotten out a Bible and is reading silently the storyof Abraham and Sarah. Another person is writing and making a little book offolded paper.
THE FEAST
The storyteller turns the room lights off: a silent signal to everyone. Shewaits a moment, until all eyes are on her, and then says, "It's time to put awayour work and gather again in the circle. There's no need to hurry. We have allthe time we need. When your work is put away, come to the circle, and we'll getready for our feast." Then she turns the lights back on. You take back your owncrayons and drawing board, as others put away paints and story materials. Thecircle forms again, and the storyteller models getting ready for the feast bysitting cross-legged, hands folded.
One server spreads a napkin in front of you. Another server puts down severalcrackers, and a third server puts down a cup of juice. The storytellerencourages everyone to wait until everyone has been served, so that prayers canbe said before sharing the feast.
The storyteller looks around the circle. "It's such a pleasure to be here withyou today. Sometimes being together makes us so happy that we just have to pray.You might want to pray out loud, or to yourself. You might want to pray wordsyou know, or words that come to you. You might not want to pray at all, andthat's okay, too. If you say a silent prayer, say 'Amen', at the end, aloud, sowe'll know your prayer is done."
She looks to each person in the circle in turn. Some quickly say "Amen." Somepray old favorite table graces, and some simply say words like, "Thank you, God,for this time together." When the storyteller has said her "Amen," you share thefeast. Only crackers and juice? No. Something more is here: Community.Gratitude. Presence. God.
SAYING GOODBYE
When the feast is finished, and you have put your trash in the trash basket, thestoryteller once more draws the attention of the group. "It's time to saygoodbye." One by one people go to the storyteller and she holds out her twohands. Most of these adults take her hands, but some lean forward and hug her.With each person she looks into their eyes, smiles warmly and says a quietgoodbye. "It was a pleasure to have you here today. Thank you for being withus."
REFLECTING:
AN ADULT EXPERIENCE OF GODLY PLAY
If this were a Godly Play children's session, this goodbye would send childrenout the door to join their parents. In an adult session, though, time would beset aside for the adults to reflect on the experience they shared. You, too, cantake some time now to reflect on the experience of reading about this Godly Playadult session:
• Which part of the session did you like best?
• Which part of the session is the most important part?
