The Origami Box


You shall put into the ark the covenant that I shall give you. -Exodus 25:16

            A few weeks ago I went to a leadership conference at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary. One of the workshops I took was a prayer and origami class. The instructor goes to nursing homes and teaches residents how to fold paper into different origami shapes. His testimony is that the more he does this, the more he realizes how calming and focusing the folding of paper can be. In the workshop, he taught us to make a swan, a peace dove, and a box. The box actually gave me the most trouble, so I’ve been working on the box. The instructor is right: once your fingers know what they’re doing, the process of folding paper can be very calming. The time becomes devotional.
            I have found the same thing to be true about quilting. As a quilter, sewing becomes a kind of devotional time for me: a space to quiet my mind, think about what I’m doing, and ask God to help me mold whatever anxieties I have into orderly stitches like my sewing machine can do.
            While sitting at my desk thinking about a book I read recently (book hangovers: it’s a real thing, my friends) I used a piece of paper from a magazine to fold an origami box. When I finished it, I noticed that the inside of the box contained a candle. I looked at the candle and thought of the song “This Little Light of Mine.” The song warns against putting God’s light in a box (hide it under a basket, NO!). The image of the candle inside my box made me think about how many other ways I try to put God in a box. Does “boxing up God” mean we are packing him away (out of sight out of mind?)? Or does it mean we try to contain God so we can bring him with us wherever we go?
            In the Old Testament, God instructed the people to build a wooden box and overlay it with gold. Exodus 25 lays out the specific instructions for dimensions and decorative elements that were to go on this special box (aka, ark). Twice in Exodus 25 (verse 16 and verse 21) God reminds the people to put the covenant inside of this box (the stone tablets that Moses brought down from Mount Sinai with the Ten Commandments). Later, they put Aaron’s staff and some other odds and ends in this holy box and they kept it in a place of the temple called the Holy of Holies. No one was allowed to open the box on pain of death (remember what happened to the men in Indiana Jones: Raiders of the Lost Ark?).  The ark gets passed around a lot. At one point it even gets captured, but the Philistines that captured it in First Samuel are so superstitious that they are sure this ark is bringing them bad luck so they actually bring it back. God instructed the people to build this box and put the covenant in the box.
            Apparently at some point, the covenant became synonymous with God. The prophet Jeremiah points to the futility of this: “They will no longer say ‘The Ark of the Covenant of the Lord’ and it will not come to mind; they will not mention it, and will not recall it, and it will not be used anymore” (Jeremiah 3:16). The ark isn’t seen again until Revelation 11:19 when it appears in God’s temple in heaven.
            There’s nothing really holy about a box. But I wonder what it would be like to carry a box that you think contains God. My honorary nephew was playing with the bedroom fan one day. He filled up a paper bag with air and then closed the bag tightly. He came over to me and opened it in my face. Then he asked me if I felt the air from the fan in the bag. Is that what it would be like to carry God around in a box? Could we open the box and feel the breath of God, the same breath that moved over the waters of creation and breathed down tongues of fire over the disciples in the temple at Pentecost?
            Would we want to? Would it be a little bit like those purses that carry small dogs? Or would we be afraid of it and never want to touch the box once God’s inside of it?
            We don’t have a box big enough to fit our God, but we don’t have hearts small enough to block out the Holy Spirit from dwelling inside of us, either. As Paul asks, “Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, which you have form God, and that you are not your own?” (I Corinthians 6:19)
            I’ve attached directions so you can fold your own origami box. When you finish, look at the box and notice that the box doesn’t close. What does it mean for the box to be open? What does it mean to you to carry the Holy Spirit inside of yourself? Try writing prayers on the paper as you fold it into your origami box. What would it be like to carry those prayers with you in your box?
            Post pictures of your boxes in the comments!
 

Check out the origami instructor's (Scott Fuller) page at www.foldtocenterproject.com 
Click here for the tutorial on making an origami box (sanbo)


PS: I also made a bunch of origami swans with prayers written inside of them. It is so cathartic to sit here and fold swans and pray for all the different things happening in the world today.


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