Sacred Dance...for Evangelicals?

I wonder if there’s any way for religious Midwesterners to join a dance?

Multiple questions arise with this notion, not least of which is “Huh?” What kind of dance? Do you need a partner? And do we really expect Evangelicals or Baptists to participate? Is the question even a Spirit-leading for discipleship in this context, where most faithful I know scurry elsewhere at the mention of “liturgical dance”? Seriously, when I was growing up, my mother and father would shepherd us to Sunday School, then we would gather together for worship all mornings except when liturgical dance was listed in the Order of Worship. “We’re going Methodist today,” my Presbyterian father would say as he scuttled us out of the sanctuary. Dance of any kind is the ultimate religious deal-breaker.

Granted, the kind of dance about which I’m thinking is not like any dance I’ve known. It’s closest to a congregational rumba line. There’s nothing liturgical about it in the above sense, though it does occur within a Eucharistic liturgy. I’ve experienced it only once, though multiple iconic images have seared the image of it in my awareness. Where would we start to even consider the questions? Of course, St. Gregory of Nyssa Church. All “free” reflections this week seem to eventually wind up back there. It’s like the psychological black hole of the week…though imbued with irrepressible light.

A community of dancing saints…around the Table, above one’s head and below at one’s (moving) feet. Incense is lit. Bells are rung. The Word is read, then proclaimed by a recognized leader and by the gathered community, the ecclesia. Prayers are sung and songs of praise are offered. Then, all stand and hear, “Face the Table, place your right hand on the left shoulder of the person in front of you, three steps forward, one step back.” A hymn tune is intoned, and the dance begins. A stately rumba line approaching the table, circling upon circling, gathering all those gathered into the Communion, whether one aims to partake or not. The saints above are not all Christian, by profession, nor are those below-around the Table certain of their beliefs. But all are welcomed as Friends and the dance continues until it is time for the feast. The meal is shared, a song of celebration continues and another stately dance begins and ends. Blessings are shared and the people disperse to bring the love of Friends into the world.

So what’s the big deal? As I reflect on it now, I'm aware of images of Hasidic dancing--pietistic Jews embodying their devotion of Rebbe and G-d (almost) alike. I remember circles of Middle-Eastern men dancing too, whether at a Muslim wedding or in a social setting without overt religious connotations (as I would name them).

First off, something finally happened in Christian worship that touched me so deeply I can’t seem to shake its import. I can truly say I’ve never felt anything like that before. Maybe when I was little, when I was free to move and express in sensate fashion what I was coming to know as True? But even then, I can’t imagine or remember such a time. When was the last time in communal worship that you were truly surprised, truly brought out of yourself and your sense of body? So wholly embraced by strangers and unseen but visible saints “written” into spaces above? I’ve been surprised by the unexpected in worship settings, of course—something falls, somebody says something s/he didn’t mean to, something “goes wrong,” which I always enjoy as “something right,” because then people pay attention in new ways. But I’ve not been surprised like this in a loooooonnnnggg time. I’m doubly blessed to be surprised in my own tradition. I felt so Christian. I haven’t felt companioned in my own tradition in a very long time.

So what to do? Transplanting one community’s practice without context, without communal discernment, into a completely other context is clearly not it. Like having this amazing encounter with Taizé chant in France, then coming back to your own community and asking them to sit on the floor, light candles, and sing songs they’ve never heard. I can save us all the trouble: it won’t go well. Transplanting the dance makes no sense.

Reflect on the dance more, with multiple others, for new listening, new lessons? Clearly, yes. That’s what this is becoming here. But reflecting on it does no justice to the phenomenon reflected. Bodied-faith-practice is like the singularity of Protestantism—you either delve into it and become a body-evangelist who offends all those who do not practice in such embodied fashion, or you use every resource in scripture and tradition to defend against engaging embodied practice at all. “It’s just not my way,” we say. “We are to be born of Spirit, not of the flesh,” we hear. Reflecting on some congregational rumba line will never circumvent this singularity.

So…what?! Spirit breathes new life, touches her children deeply in the play of Wisdom, then spirits off into the horizon with ne’er a look back to see if we understood the touch in the first place.

Sigh.

At least the railing has lessened. :)