There are days when I’m convinced that Anglicans invented the first group fitness class. Long before Pilates became trendy and well before you could attend a Spin class at 6 a.m. with people who look much too cheerful for that hour, the Church had already perfected a full-body liturgical workout.
I’ve often thought that if St. Paul had foreseen the stand–sit–kneel sequence of Anglican worship, he might’ve added a line in 1 Corinthians along the lines of: “Do you not know that your pew is a temple of the Holy Spirit? Therefore glorify God in your posture.” And if Stephen Leacock had written a commentary on the Prayer Book, we’d surely have a chapter entitled “In Which the Faithful Do Unexpected Calisthenics.”
The Sacred Warm-Up: Finding the Right Pew
The workout always begins with the delicate art of pew selection. One must calculate carefully: close enough to the front to appear devout, but far enough back to avoid accidentally becoming the lay reader. This requires both strategy and subtle neck movements, not unlike a pigeon assessing whether the birdbath is safe. The warm-up continues as you slide into the pew and realize—too late—that you’ve chosen the one where the kneeler has the structural integrity of a wet noodle.
Stand, Sit, Kneel… Repeat
And then the real aerobics begin.
Stand! (With enthusiasm, but not too much. You don’t want to appear threatening.)
Sit! (Quietly. No pew-creaking fanfare, please.)
Kneel! (If able. If not able, assume the posture of Holy Intent.)
Then back up again, sometimes with the elegance of a swan, sometimes more like an arthritic giraffe attempting yoga.
Every congregation develops its own rhythm. You can almost hear the spiritual heartbeat of the parish in the synchronized thump of two dozen kneelers hitting the floor in unison—plus one kneeler that clatters a full two seconds late, testifying that sanctification is a process.
Liturgy as God’s Personal Trainer
Some say liturgy forms us. I say it also tones us.
It engages the quads, strengthens the core, and tests the balance of those who attempt to cross themselves without wobbling into the next pew. Generations of Anglicans have been kept limber not through gym memberships but through the faithful practice of standing for the Gospel and kneeling for the Confession.
And let’s be honest: nothing builds upper body strength like trying to wrestle a medievally heavy Book of Common Prayer from the rack without dropping it on your neighbour’s foot—especially during a quiet moment of prayer.
Preventing Liturgical Quad Strain
As your friendly neighbourhood priest—and apparently your liturgical physiotherapist—I offer a few pastoral tips:
1. Hydrate before worship. Not too much, mind you. Anglican services run long and the bathrooms are never close by.
2. Know your limits. If your knees sound like a floor full of popcorn during the Eucharistic Prayer, feel free to remain seated. God hears you just as clearly.
3. Use the pew for support. That is its spiritual gift.
4. Avoid sudden movements during incense. Trust me on this one.
5. When in doubt, follow the choir. They usually know when to move—unless it’s a new anthem, in which case all bets are off.
A Holy Exercise in Community
What makes our sacred aerobics truly transformative isn’t the posture changes, but the way we do them together. These shared movements remind us that faith is embodied, communal, and occasionally humorous. They’re small acts of unity that shape us into a people attentive to God and one another—even when someone stands too soon and the rest of us pretend we didn’t notice.
The miracle is that in all this movement—creaking pews, dodgy kneelers, slowly protesting joints—we meet the God who knelt to wash feet, who stood to bless, who sat at tables with the least likely guests. Our motions mirror His own.
So the next time you find yourself rising, sitting, kneeling, and rising again, take heart: you’re participating in the oldest fitness class in Christian history. And in the end, we’re not earning spiritual muscle—we’re being lovingly formed, one posture at a time
A Companion Prayer
Holy and gracious God,
You meet us in every posture—
when we stand in praise,
sit in wonder,
and kneel in humility.
Bless our creaky joints, our wobbly balance,
and our sometimes overconfident attempts
to follow the liturgical choreography.
Grant us joy in the movements we share,
patience with ourselves and one another,
and grace enough to laugh kindly
when our pews groan louder than we do.
May these simple gestures form our hearts
as surely as they stretch our bodies,
reminding us that worship is lived with our whole selves.
And in every rise and bow,
draw us closer to the One who stooped to serve,
stood to bless,
and walked beside us on the way.
In Christ’s name we pray. Amen.