"Lord of the Dance"

That was the choir anthem this morning at church. (The words are here if you are unfamiliar; the tune is a version of the old "Simple Gifts" Shaker hymn).

The whole time, I was sort of fighting tears. It's unusual something moves me to that point - and I had heard the song before so it was not a surprise - but I think it hit me some way strange today.

And you know, I came home, sat down at my sewing machine, started sewing on my current quilt. And I started thinking about the words of the song again. And unbidden, the tears came - I just started crying. It's not that I'm sad - it's just, like I said, the song just hit me in a particular place today.

And I think, sometimes, when we cry, it is not so much that we are sad or happy or anything, at the time, it's just that we need to get the tears out, the tears that build up over time.

I think the song moved me so much because to me, it is a more authentic description of Christianity, at least in my experience, than what the stereotypes of Christianity present:

Dance, then, wherever you may be,
I am the Lord of the Dance, said he,
And I'll lead you all, wherever you may be,
And I'll lead you all in the Dance, said he

.

That's the refrain. I like the idea of dancing for joy. And I like the image in the first stanza - that Christ was there from the time it all began, and that He danced in the sunlight and the moonlight.

Because, I've spoken with people who thought they knew Christianity. Christians are all these dour people who follow a long list of "thou shalt nots," who don't know how to have fun, who would take any fun anyone else would have away from them. Oh, and they're hypocrites, too.

And I don't even know where to BEGIN with someone who has that image. While I don't doubt that Christianity counts among its ranks its share of killjoys and mean people (because killjoys and mean people are everywhere). And the hypocrite, thing, too - we are all of us (Christian and not), to some extent hypocrites. Or rather, we cannot live up to our intentions. We say one thing - we know what is right - but we cannot quite always manage to do it.

But my experience with Christianity - especially in the past few years - has totally been the opposite of the image of people dressed in gray sitting in church and listening to sermons about the fires of Hell.

In the church I belong to, we laugh. And we eat together. And there's a lot of hugging (and even though I'm generally kind of touch-averse, I participate. I understand that for some of the people - particularly women of a certain age who see me as a bit of a surrogate daughter - hugging is an important way of showing their love. [And no, I've never been hugged in a way at church that felt at all "creepy." And I'm pretty attuned to "creepy" vs. "not creepy" when it comes to things like hugging].)

The minister himself once said in a sermon that he saw two ways of bringing people to Christianity: first, the image of saving sinners from the pit of Hell, and second, inviting people to a wonderful banquet. Which, he asked, would be the invitation you'd take?

And you know, he's right. Since I've become more active in my faith, my life has become deeper and richer and more joyful right in the here and now. I am a happier and calmer person. I am generally better able to interact with people - even with difficult people - in ways that are productive.

My faith, and what I learn every week when I prepare for Sunday school or I prepare the Youth Group lesson or I think about what the kids say in Youth Group or I think about the sermon, makes my life more meaningful. I feel like I'm learning a lot, uncovering a lot about what God really means about life.

And dancing IS part of it, I think. (Oh, I know, some faith traditions frown on dancing. But David danced! In fact, he even danced naked! I think the problem comes in when there are some people who can't deal with some of the issues dancing brings up - I mean, the kids who go in for the simulated-copulation type of dancing. They're going about it the wrong way! They're taking something that can be very sacred and making it profane).

(I think a great many things in life can be imbued with a level of sacredness, given the right respect and the right attitude. Even sex. The problem is, we humans have a bad habit of taking things that have great deep meanings to them and drawing them down to their simplest and most carnal level, and somehow wringing the sacredness out of them.)

But I love the imagery of it: That God in Jesus is always dancing, always calling to us to join Him in the joy and wonder of it.

Of course, the song is a description of Jesus' life, so there is also the description of His death - "They buried my body/ And they thought I'd gone," but there is also the fundamental thing: "But I am the Dance, /And I still go on." And again - I love that image. That Christ is something so elemental, so fundamental, that people could not kill Him. People tried to kill Him then, and you know, in other ways and with other methods, people still try to kill Him now. But in the lives of the faithful, He cannot be killed.

The song - the last stanza - also reminds me of the bit out of "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe," where Aslan having given himself up as a sacrifice in place of Edmund, comes back to life because of the "Deeper Magic":

"Oh, children," said the Lion. "I feel my strength coming back to me. Oh, children, catch me if you can!" He stood for a second, his eyes very bright, his limbs quivering, lashing himself with his tail. Then he made a leap high over their heads and landed on the other side of the Table. Laughing, though she didn't know why, Lucy scrambled over it to reach him. Aslan leaped again. A mad chase began...It was such a romp as no one has ever had except in Narnia."

Again - the idea of running and romping and dancing for sheer joy.

I think perhaps another reason the song got to me is that it makes me wish I could dance. I cannot. I have tried on a number of occasions, taking dance classes, but I turn out to be one of those people who has to look down at my hands and see which one forms an "L" to know my left from my right. I am simply not coordinated enough. I also can't sing, and that makes me kind of sad. I feel closed out of two ways of expressing my joy, expressing what I feel. Dancing seems so immediate: you just get up and DO it, to show how you feel.

But I did realize, sitting at my sewing machine, that perhaps I have other ways of "dancing." I have had many people say about the quilts that they make that they are vibrant and joyful and full of color. And often when I work on them I do feel that joy - I feel like the things I think and believe and feel are going down my fingers and into the cloth. (And perhaps it's interesting that in the past couple years, my quilts have become more vivid in the colors I choose).

But I know I will be thinking about that song, and about what it means, and about how to express faith as joy, for a while yet.