July 14, 2024

That’s What You Get for Dancing

One of my first pastorates out of seminary was in a small rural community in upstate New York.  I have changed quite a bit since those days, but one way in which I remain much the same person is that I have always loved to have fun.  I tend to make light of a lot of things, and I’m particularly good at particularly bad jokes.  Sometimes I even get a little carried away and get downright silly.  Well, in this rural church there was a farmer by the name of Elihu Jones.  Elihu was a stern, austere man who had admirably made his way through life by sheer hard work.  He was an early riser, and a no-nonsense, nose-to-the-grindstone sort of guy.  He read the Bible regularly and could quote chapter a verse when called upon.  Mostly, though, he didn’t say much.  I’ll never forget one evening after a church meeting held in someone’s home, Elihu came up to me and confronted me about the jokes and light-hearted fooling around that was my wont.  He said that he didn’t think it was quite appropriate for a minister to behave in such a way.  When I protested he put me in my place by quoting Isaiah 53:3.  He said, “Jesus was a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief!”  Well, dear old Elihu probably went to his grave thinking that I was a lost cause.  And I guess he was right; I’ve never gotten over my inclination toward light-hearted fun and bad jokes.  But then, I’m not convinced of Elihu’s scriptural exegesis.  I recall also that Jesus seemed to enjoy a party – he turned the water into wine at the wedding feast in Cana.  And I suspect that he must have known how to have a good time because he got the finger-wagging rebuke that comes to those who don’t take it all as seriously as some would prefer.  Jesus tells us in Matthew 11:19 that he was accused by some of being a glutton and a drunkard, and hanging out with the wrong crowd.  You don’t get that kind of reputation for nothing.

King David certainly knew how to party.  He brought the sacred arc up from the house of Obed-edom to Jerusalem “with rejoicing”.  And then he got so carried away that he stripped down to his skivvies, and started dancing in the street.  Now, I can’t really imagine a national leader doing that today (the image is a bit unsettling), but for David it kind of feels right.  He was, if you’ll pardon the expression, “letting it all hang out.”  There was something authentic and compelling in his outrageous performance that was not simply calling attention to himself but reminding everyone that even though he is king, he also a human being.  But Michal, the daughter of Saul, looked out her window and saw the king prancing around in front of everyone in his skivvies, and she was scandalized.  She let him have it – called him vulgar and shameless.  For David, I guess, that’s what you get for dancing.

It seems there’s always someone around to throw cold water on the party.  And if the truth be known, a lot of the time that’s you and I.  We adhere to our sense of propriety.  We don’t want to be seen as fools.  And consequently, we can find ourselves disinclined to really loosen up to find and express the joy in life.

Now, I have to admit, I haven’t always felt much like dancing – let alone doing it in the street in my BVD’s.  But I think David’s dance is about something larger than having fun.  He explains to Michal: “It was before the Lord, who chose me in place of your father and all his household, to appoint me as prince over Israel, the people of the Lord, that I have danced before the Lord.  I will make myself yet more contemptible than this, and I will be abased in my own eyes.”  In other words, David was dancing with his feet because he felt blessed enough by the Lord’s presence and favor that he was dancing in his heart.  And having a dancing heart is what it’s all about.

I think that David’s dance is informative.  It is the sense of being connected to the divine, of being one with the Heart of Existence, of being touched by the Divine Light, that makes a heart dance.  And you don’t have to be happy for that to happen.  Your heart can dance even when your eyes are flooded with tears.

I’ve often tried to describe what this “dancing heart” feels like; I never seem to quite get it right.  It’s so hard to explain because it’s not just about being happy, it is a certain lightness that comes when one can let go of hurt and fear in the awareness of a deeper Presence.  One elucidation of this feeling is found in C. S. Lewis’s description of the emotional reaction to the name of Aslan in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.  He writes that, “each one of the children felt something jump in his inside. . . . Susan felt as if some delicious smell or some delightful strain of music had just floated by her.  And Lucy got the feeling you have when you wake up in the morning and realize that it is the beginning of the holidays or the beginning of summer.”¹  It’s that kind of transportation to a place of freedom and wholeness that I’m talking about.

But your heart can’t dance if it’s tied up with resentment and weighed down with anger.  That was the case for Herodias in our gospel reading from Mark today.  Her heart was so twisted up with rage at John the Baptist that all she could think about was killing him.  So her daughter performed a death-dance before the king and wound up with an ugly, bloody head on a platter.  That’s what you get for dancing if that’s the kind of dance you’re into.

And your heart can’t dance if it’s in a straightjacket.  And that’s what happens so often when we become emotionally absorbed in our own trials and traumas.  I’ve discovered something about that also.  When all there is to do is sit around, felling sorry for myself about something, the minutes and hours can seem interminable – unbearable.  Often, all it takes is to have some focus other than myself to make it all seem so much more manageable.  Dadgie, bless her heart, can lift me up with a smile or a kiss.  Something like that can do wonders to take you out of yourself.  I think that’s the case for any of us.  When we get into those awful times of self-absorption and self-pity, it can turn into a downhill spiral that’s hard to get out of – and that’s the straightjacket that keeps one’s heart from dancing.  I think that’s one of the great values of the kind of fellowship we have in this church.  We rub elbows around here and get to know each other, and in time, we learn to truly care about one another.  I’ve seen people here reaching out to others in times of need, and I’ve seen folks doing that in scorn of their own infirmities and troubles.  The bonds that we form in this church family are mutually healing.  They shift our perspective and free our hearts.

So, one way to get a dancing heart is to get outside of yourself.  Another way is to simply stop taking yourself so seriously.  I think it was G. K. Chesterton who said that angels are able to fly because they take themselves lightly.  There is great power for healing to be found in poking fun at one’s self.  Sometimes you and I can get so consumed by our agendas and priorities that one might think the world rises or falls on whether we get what we want.  Maybe that’s the value in telling jokes and being a little silly.  It keeps one from getting too serious about one’s own place in the world.

But perhaps the best way to get a dancing heart is to spend time realizing your connection to the quiet Power that pervades all being.  Whether it’s through meditation or simply repeated moments of reflection, there is a tremendous release that comes with such broadened awareness.  Reading the Bible stories can do that for some people.  Encountering the life of Jesus and taking his words to heart can bring a whole new perspective on life and help to unbutton that straightjacket around one’s heart.

But there are bound to be those who resent you for having inappropriate affect, for reflecting inner peace and joy in the face of trauma.  They’re the same ones who will scold you for telling jokes when they feel proper decorum is called for.  And they’re the ones who will look down on you and call you vulgar if they catch you dancing in the street – I suppose that’s what you get for dancing.  Just be careful not to be one of those scolding types yourself.

Instead, nurture a heart of joy, a heart that is in tune with the great Heart of Love that beats throughout this created order, a heart that can find peace in the midst of the storm, a heart that is free from the bondage of self-absorption and is free to be concerned for the welfare of others, a heart that can help you laugh at yourself and find the best in life.  That, after all, is what you get for dancing.

¹ C. S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, Harper Collins, 2002, pp. 74-75.