Pentecost 6B
Mark 6.14-29
July 12, 2009
My middle daughter has always been a dancer. When she was a tiny girl she would dance around the house in dress up clothes. As she got older she took lessons in ballet and jazz. She was a ballerina until her final year of high school.
As parents we put a lot of money into lessons and costumes and shoes, oh boy, the shoes. I remember when she got her first pair of pointe shoes and we listened to clunk, clunk, clunk on the hard wood floors upstairs for hours until she had blisters and couldn’t stand them another minute.
Her final recital was bittersweet, dancing gracefully across the stage with her class in beautiful white tutu’s. The girls were beautiful; they seemed to float across the stage, synchronize in perfect harmony with one another.
She’s grown now and no longer don’s leotards and slippers. Now she puts on elegant gowns and flamboyant dresses, takes her partner’s hand and competes in the art of ballroom dancing.
It’s mesmerizing really. Young men with the slightest hint of movement in the wrist encouraging, controlling the swirling and turning of the young woman. A hand on the back and the girl moves this way, the hand on the shoulder and she moves another. They move in perfect rhythm, perfect harmony with one another. Dance is an incredible art form with leader and follower, movement and expression.
Herodias or Salome was somebody’s daughter. At the time of this story she was probably about 12 years of age. It probably hadn’t been all that many years since she danced around the house in her Mom’s high heeled shoes. And here she is in the court of Herod, forced to perform for drunken men; made a mere object, pushed onto stage, expected to move seductively; expected to please or be punished. She has no dance troupe by her side to lend meaning to her movements. She has no partner to lead or hold her close. She is subjected to the jeering and grabbing from the audience to force her on.
The dance of Salome stands in stark contrast to other dances moving around the floor of this Gospel of Mark. What dances, you might ask. Haven’t you noticed? Haven’t you been following the rhythm?
There has been a dance led by John the Baptist which parallels the dance of Jesus. John began a festival dance, swirling around the waters of the Jordan River, singing of the kingdom of God, stepping high and twisting and turning with the rhythm of life.
Jesus began his dance in those very waters, taking the lead as John fades into the chorus line. Jesus leads the dance of the marginalized, the bereaved the sick and the weak. But the rhythm of the dance doesn’t match with the rhythm of the culture. The waltz of life clashes with the slam dance of the world and the music seems to cease as Pontius Pilate, off stage, moves to his own rhythm, and Herod sneaks for a moment on stage, in a menacing dance contorting and convulsing, controlling and ceasing the dance forever of John.
But in the meanwhile, until Pilate takes center stage, Jesus is in control of the dance floor. Haven’t you seen the slight movement of the hand, the almost imperceptible nod of his head as he has led the dance of life?
Jesus has danced with the outcast and sinners. He danced among the tombs bringing wholeness and healing to the Gerasene demoniac. The tempo slowed, anxieties were calmed, demons were exorcised as Jesus took the lead. He danced with the daughter of Jarius; with a flourish of his arm, he lifted her to life, raised her up and sent her swirling and twirling into the waiting arms of her parents. With a turn and a swish of his robes, he invited a woman to return to the dance of the community, gave her new steps of joy and thanksgiving as she and he took moments to join in the dance of conversation and healing. He took twelve untrained men danced with them the dance of instruction, giving and leading and guiding them until at last they were ready to lead as he guided the disciples into a dance of ministry. He moved with them, leading them, with a hand on their back, sending them out into their own dance of healing with the world. And the dance goes on, and the dancers become bolder in their movements both on and off stage. Until Jesus is pushed off stage, led away in a bizarre dance of struggle. The music slowly changes to a funeral march and the wail of the mourners drowns out the song of the chorus. Jesus final dance is a mere flutter of breath and a bow to death on a cross.
Three days after Jesus bow, the women moved in time with the steps of death, slowly, uncertain in these new movements and then suddenly were twirled in the syncopation of uncertainty confronted with an empty tomb. By the time they reached the disciples they found a new song, a new dance. He is risen. He is risen. The dance cannot be stopped. The kingdom rhythm continues as we are all invited to join in the dance of the Lord of Life.
Our call is to continue the dance. Just as John and Jesus began in water, we learn to dance in the water. We emerge filled with the cadences of music, in the arms of the Lord of the dance as he leads us into life. At times we are given the freedom to find our own steps, sent out to lead to bring others into the dance. At time he holds us close when the music is distorted by the events of life and we can’t find the beat on our own. Jesus turns us in ever changing patterns; waltzes, rumba, swing, salsa, cha cha; leading us when our steps are stilted and unsure. Always the Lord of the dance, always our partner.
How many times have we been twirling out of control, spun uncontrollably by the news of cancer, joblessness, lack of control, no money, loss of a loved one or a relationship only to be pulled close and felt the warmth of being held in a soothing sway? How many times have we been satisfied to remain in a box step, never changing the pattern, relying on the same music only to have Jesus come from behind and send us out in a tango, an impassioned desire to follow him into service with and for others? How often have we been invited into a community dance of joy or a chorus of mourning as corporately we move together in the diverse choreography of our called community?
I learned a song once at a youth gathering. “Now let us dance for the victory is won. Now let us sing for the song has begun. Now let us live in the light of the Son, gathered and called and united as one.”
My friends, let’s dance!
Copyright © The Rev. Aileen Robbins. All rights reserved; use requires permission
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