The Lord of the Dance

I love to dance! I know the thought is horrifying to many more conservative Christians who firmly believe that “a dancing foot and a praying knee will not be found on the same leg”. But there it is. I learned to “ballroom” dance when I was in high school—you know, back when the “proms” actually had dance bands, not head-banger’s mosh pit heavy- metal sounds, post-modern electronic trance music, or the popular “bump and grind, dirty dance” styling so popular now. And I have never lost my love of ballroom dancing.

One of the most intriguing things I find about ballroom dancing (waltz, foxtrot, tango, etc.) is what a nearly perfect allegory of a Christian marriage it provides. The beauty of two people who each know “the steps”, moving as one to music, gliding across the floor, where the man sets the general direction, but the dance itself is shared through a mutual consent and cooperation of partners, is a something to behold. In fact, there are few things I would recommend that are as therapeutic to a marriage as learning how to dance together. Sometimes I believe every couple should begin by learning to dance together. If they can’t accomplish this, they probably shouldn’t even consider anything more complex, like marriage. Now lest you think I have slipped my final cog, let me explain: relationships are difficult in the best of conditions. Given the nature of the “fall” in Genesis 2 and our relative neediness as human beings, engaging in a relational “dance” is challenging at best. And in a world where we are prone to change partners at the first misstep, successful partnerships are rarely given the chance to develop. I used to love ballroom dancing. When watching a successful dance pairing, the result seems almost effortless. But to those engaged in the dance itself, such a result has required long hours, weeks, months...maybe years of work. Toes are stepped on, feelings are hurt, tension is sometimes high, emotions are vented. And the partnership either survives, or it does not. But those who survive are committed to more than the process. It is not enough to enjoy the music or “the steps”. It is not even enough to enjoy the concept...the theory, if you will...of dancing. If the partnership is not there, if the two cannot move as one on the dance floor, then the results will be tenuous and strained at best. And such results can hardly be called “dancing”.

You will note that I haven’t mentioned sex. I believe that those who engage in “recreational” sex as though it were a natural part of “relating” to another person are like people who would consider entering a world class dance competition having only the “quickie” introduction to dancing given by most dance schools to sell the unwary overpriced dance packages. In the act of sex, the true joy of mutual surrender occurs, in which each person, seeking first the pleasure of their lover, gives that most precious of gifts. Such an event should be reserved to those whose commitment to one another is solid and unassailable. To approach such a thing casually, selfishly, with a view primarily to personal pleasure and the satisfaction of some vaguely perceived “need” has far too much potential for harm, humiliation, and emotional devastation. It makes a truly beautiful and tender gift seem tawdry and vulgar. No...there is a reason that the sexual expression of love has traditionally been reserved for the married—it is an emotional binding wrapped in a physical caress. And it is not to be given lightly.

Yet I am getting ahead of myself. In dancing, individual preparation is required to provide the proper foundation for a successful partnership. While one can learn the mechanics of dancing as a couple without each individual developing a broader knowledge of dancing, the best dancers are those who are individually skilled, and who understand the mechanics of both leading and following—who learn both their own and their partner’s dance steps. If one has no familiarity with their partner’s steps, then one is far more susceptible to miscues and stumbles. The more that one is familiar with dance as an individual, the more one can offer to their partner. The same is true of marriage. You see, to a great extent, even within a marriage, each partner must learn his or her own steps, and be aware of their partner’s. They may learn to move together, but the steps are the responsibility of each individual. If both are not working equally hard apart as well as together, the result will be inadequate. In our marriages, common courtesies and generous attitudes are never truly common. They are learned over time and are practiced intently. When individual character is either not developed, or laid aside in a rush of emotion, the basis for the relationship is non-exsitent. And if such character is not evident in the relationship before the marriage, it is unlikely that it will simply spring into bloom after each says, “I do”. One cannot enter into a marriage relationship as a “cure” to loneliness, or to “find” love, or because someone “needs” a [wife, husband...take your pick; given what some believe a “wife” is, I know many women who believe that they need one]. One cannot come to marriage as though the act of commitment will somehow magically make them a “whole” person. In fact, to do so generally assures disappointment and heartache. The uniqueness of marriage occurs when two “whole” persons commit themselves in self-sacrificial love to one another, giving freely all that they are to the one another. One should seek their completeness first in God, not in a mate. The Bible says, “...the two shall become one...”, not “two halves shall become a whole.”

Nevertheless, in dancing there is role differentiation. Even two partners who each know one another’s dance steps and are skilled in leading and following ascribe to the convention that the man leads and the woman follows. The woman does not “back lead”. “Back leading” occurs when the woman, sometimes more experienced than her male partner, becomes impatient and begins to determine the direction on her own. Several things occur at this point: the man becomes even more unsure of his ability, and begins to rely on his partner’s cues...but there are simply some steps that cannot be as effectively “back led”; also, the learning and progress of the male partner often become stunted, as his own ability is never challenged and encouraged to grow. Now if for some reason her partner loses step, or miscues, she can skillfully assist him until he regains his direction. But neither partner can dance effectively for the other. When a man attempts to dance “for” his partner, the result is often heavy and strained, and it appears to all as though the man is simply “dragging” his partner around the floor. And the woman, never learning to truly express herself, is unable to display the joy of dancing as a full partner. In marriage, the Bible ascribes role differentiation. The husband is the “head”, who gives is willing to put the good of his wife before his own, in self-sacrificial love. The wife “submits” to her husband’s role, in love surrendering her direction to his so that the two can walk together in agreement and unity. Yet each person brings their “wholeness” to this relationship, for the Bible speaks of the woman not as “completing” the man, but as a helper “corresponding” to the man. The husband and wife are in that sense, “fit” for one another.

Another interesting aspect of skillful ballroom dancing is that while the man may provide the direction, he also provides the “frame” by which the beauty of his female partner and her skills are displayed. If a frame is appropriate to the masterpiece, it will hardly intrude on one’s consciousness. Its only purpose is to call attention to the painting. On the floor, the purpose of the male lead in the dance partnership is to display the beauty and talent of his female partner. When this is done skillfully, the man is scarcely noticed. But those who see the partnership share in the joy of the couple as they watch them glide in unison across the dance floor, and perceive the beauty of the woman’s face. If, however, the man becomes too absorbed in his own appearance, or he leads steps meant primarily to display his own virtuosity, the pairing falters and looks clumsy. If you watch dancers who are truly talented, the man generally appears absorbed by the skill and beauty of his female partner...she essentially becomes the glory of their mutual hard work. When Paul says that “the man is the image and glory of God, but the woman is the glory of man” (I Corinthians 11:7), the point is essentially the same. This is the essence of the self-sacrificial love a man must demonstrate in a marriage. In the great dance, the married relationship between a man and a woman, the beauty of the relationship will always be displayed by the woman. And she will reflect the selfless love and care of the man. If the partnership falters, it will be seen first in the face of the woman.

But the final, and most important, point is that ultimately the dance is about two people whose concern for one another is displayed in the finesse of their cooperation. Skilled dancers rarely think about steps or the phrasing of the music or the mechanics of the dance when they are dancing. Once they are on the floor for all to see, these things, although essential to the dance itself, recede to the merely contextual, as each partner concentrates on the other. If either partner begins to “count to the music”, or becomes insecure and “step” conscious, the dance itself will come to a halt, because the partnership will be lost in self-absorption. When concentration shifts from the substance of the dance to its context, while both partners may be skilled, the steps ultimately look wooden and mechanical. The couple doesn’t flow across the floor, and often appear to be going in the same general direction by accident, rather than intent. In the dance, the substance of the dance is one’s partner, and the multitude of cues that each partner shares with the other, nearly subliminal after much practice. This is also true of any relationship...especially marriage. Many a marriage is lost when the husband and wife are no longer truly concerned for one another—just for the “marriage”. Insecurity takes root, as both husband and wife become preoccupied for what each can do “for the marriage”, not for each other. Yet what is important is not the process, but the person. In the same manner, being a Christian is not a matter of religion—what one can do to impress others or God with their piety. The Pharisees were adept at such mechanics, but had never learned to “dance”. Being a Christian begins with having been made whole by Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross and resurrection to new life. But living Christianly consists in our preoccupation with the person of Jesus Christ, not the practice of religion. And our relationship with Jesus Christ finds its perfect expression in the dance that is marriage.

The Naked Truth

I recently watched the movie The Calendar Girls. For those of you who are not aware of its subject matter, it is about a group of proper British matrons “of a certain age” who belong to the Rylstone Women’s Institute, a “ladies group” (you know the type) whose meetings always begin with the hymn Jerusalem, and feature speakers whose topics range from “the many uses of broccoli” to “slides from our recent holiday”. Helen Mirren plays one of the younger members, Chris, whose participation was essentially “bequeathed” to her when her mother passed away, and who, along with her friend Annie (played by Julie Walters) is bored with the stodgy, pedestrian activities of the club. Being on the rebellious side, when participating in the annual bake sale at the club’s annual fair, she enters a sponge cake purchased from a local bake shop. When she wins “first prize”, Chris attributes her mother’s baking instructions, and then states, “...and if it’s something really important, buy it from [a bake shop].” All the women assume it is a joke. But when Annie’s husband John, an Assistant National Park Officer with the Yorkshire Dales and a lover of flowers—especially sunflowers, passes away from leukemia, Chris and Annie decide to raise money for a memorial in John’s name. In the film, this was to be a couch to replace the one in the hospital’s waiting room, whose discomfort added insult to injury as Annie and Chris spent time together during the final, painful hours of John’s life. Since the Women’s Institute published a fund-raising calendar every year to raise money for some charitable purpose, Chris thought this would be a fitting opportunity. But the couch was quite expensive, and the calendar, whose subject matter was generally rather pedestrian scenes from the Yorkshire dales, actually raised very little money. John had once said, “The flowers of Yorkshire are like the women of Yorkshire...the last stage of their growth is the most glorious.” Of course, he followed up his statement with wry, British humor, saying, “Then they go to seed.” John’s observation had not been lost on Chris, however, who, when she heard that the subject of that year’s calendar was ostensibly “fresh vegetables”, had said in an aside to Annie, “Thank God. For a minute I thought it would be boring.” Chris proposed an alternative calendar to Annie, featuring the true “flowers” of the Yorkshire dales, the women of the Yorkshire dales—in the nude! And the rest, as they say, is history.

This movie is, in fact, based on a true incident. The story of the “Baker’s Half-Dozen”, and the calendar that made them international “celebrities” is told at the Movie-O (MovieOrigins.com). Much was “fictionalized” for the sake of the movie, but the substance of the story was, in fact, quite accurate, and the movie itself is delightful. Now you might wonder how it is that a Christian determined to watch a movie that had been billed as the British women’s answer to The Full Monty, a movie about a group of men who decide to put on a sort of Chippendale’s show featuring local men who dance and strip to raise money. The “full monty”, of course, refers to the point at which they “drop trou’” as it were, and give a “full frontal” display. Actually, the movies could not be more different. The Full Monty was the typical British “nudge, nudge...wink, wink”, a movie whose actual story line seemed incidental to the, well, climax. It seemed tawdry, with an eye to the prurient, and the inevitable, “politically correct” film depiction of a homosexual encounter. The Full Monty was no worse than Benny Hill’s humor, and certainly not as extreme as the BBC’s Graham Norton Effect. But it was, at best, a guilty pleasure that left one with the feeling they had accidentally wondered into a “peep” show, and had stayed to watch. The Calendar Girls could not have been more different. In fact, far less was depicted than in most television shows on cable nowadays. The “nudity” was handled in a far more tasteful manner (here are links to the original calendar, and the new calendar), discrete and almost prudish by today’s standards. If anyone rents the DVD thinking that they will be entertained by a “skin flick”, they will be sorely disappointed. The “nudity” in The Calendar Girls is, in many ways, almost incidental to the story line. Like the calendar itself, the movie is not salacious. It is rather a story told with warmth about the courage of a group of British women, whose selfless actions succeeded in raising more than £450,000 (comfortably over a million U.S. dollars) to fund cutting-edge research into lymphoma and leukemia at the University of Leeds in Great Britain.

Of course, on must wonder to what extent The Calendar Girls is an allegory for our times. Perhaps it reminded us what is the true source of beauty. It is something that flows naturally from the heart, and is not affected by “gravity” and the ravages of time. How strange that we would need to be reminded of this again. After all, this is the era of women’s liberation. Women are no longer “slaves” to the “drudgery” of the household and of child-rearing. They are no longer sex objects. They work in factories and offices—they even serve in the military. One would think that, with the exception of equality of wages with their male counterparts, women had reached a virtual Nirvana of self-respect and freedom of expression. Why then does it seem that, if anything, our society has become obsessed with youth, and feminine images which result in anorexia, bulimia, and a lifetime of “nip” and “tuck”? No longer the “earth shoe” generation, many women suffer to look like the cast of Sex in the City, with cosmetics and skin treatments enough to start a small pharmacy, clothing styles designed for waifs, and shoes designed for maximum discomfort, with spike heels that must be a chiropractor’s dream and narrow toes that are reminiscent of the “foot binding” that was common in China generations ago, until it was outlawed. If anything, women, who sought freedom from the “oppressive” gender roles bequeathed to them from Victorian England, are now more slaves to their gender than ever. And the National Organization of Women, having become an activist voice for gay and lesbian rights, remains amazingly silent. They could not bring themselves to even offer moral support to those women who, during the administration of President Clinton, claimed to have been sexually assaulted by the then “groper-in-chief”.

Annie Baker’s husband loved the sunflower, which was not native to the Yorkshire dales, but is very familiar to many of us from the United States—especially to me, as a native Kansan (Kansas being the “sunflower” state). He had mused about how the face of the sunflower followed the sun across the sky, from its rising to its setting (which is, in fact, how it got its name). And the sunflower appeared prominently in the calendar. These women, most glorious in the “last stages” of their growth, like the sunflower, kept their faces to the sun and a displayed their beauty, without pretense, for all to admire—for those willing to truly “see”.

The Death of Woodstock

Yes, I am nominally a member of the "Woodstock" generation. My junior high school (now called middle school) and high school years were filled with the music of the Beatles and others of the British menagerie (The Animals, The Turtles, The Rolling Stones). My politics were informed by Kennedy, Johnson, Nixon, the Vietnam War, Watergate, folk music, and "make love, not war." We were the ones who dreamed we saw "the bomber jet planes flying shotgun in the sky, turning into butterflies above our nation." We would lead humanity "back to the Garden".

Of course, the "purple haze" of our semi-conscious, delirious existence was given a dose of reality by the culmination of campus "demonstrations" in the shooting at Kent State (or as Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young would sing, "four dead in O-hi-o") and the violence led by Abbie Hoffman outside the Democratic convention in Chicago. And our "icons" of the faith, like Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin, were dying from their "if it feels good, do it" ethic, ushered barefoot along their own Abbey Road through the ravages of too much "sex, drugs, and rock and roll" (or, at least, too much "drugs"). Maybe the "high priest" of our movement, Dr. Timothy Leary, had never really taken into consideration the ultimate results of the "tune in, turn on, drop out" philosphy, which resulted in the rapid increase of sexually trasmitted diseases among young people, an increase in teen pregnancies and abortions, an increase of drug usage, addiction, and death by drug overdose...all from a generation for whom "make love, not war" became and an excuse for hedonists and "street" capitalists with no conscience to prey on the naivite of the young.

Yes, our generation brought you "it takes a village to raise a child"...because no one knew the child's father, the child's mother was strung out on drugs, or young, helpless, and runaway from any family support, and the child was, at best, an afterthought. Yes, we brought you the children raised in homes where they watched their "parents" puff up, snort up, or shoot up their meager incomes, experiencing the hopelessness of barely present adults, learning the rough survival skills of the street...lying, cheating, stealing...prostitution, dealing drugs...preying on each other in a village of "survival of the fittest." The lucky ones went to prison, where for the price of being raped, they could at least get "three hots and a cot". The unlucky ones...well...

Of course, there were many us who lived through these times of psychedelic dreams to become members of a disaffected middle class, retreating into the ivory towers of academia where we could share memories of Led Zepplin, the Grateful Dead, Cream...and visions of our lost Woodstock utopia with others whose selective memories allowed them to ignore the truly dark underside of our generation's legacy. Others with families more "well off" could retreat into small towns, create havens of like-minded cultural aesthetes, and pass on our poison to future generations. Because poison it was. Our generation was not too idealistic. It just wanted the ideals without the steep price that former generations had to pay for them. We wanted the freedom of love without committment, of sex without responsibility, of peace at any price, of truth without Truth.

But now, generations to come...made up of our own children and grandchildren...begin to come of age. And we are shocked. Shocked! We are shocked at the rising teen suicide rate, senseless violence in schools and neighborhoods accompanied by the stacatto rhythms of gangsta' rap, the obsession of many with the philosophically "undead" that is "goth". Our mouseketeers become sex kittens, our sense of sexuality becomes "uni" or "metro"...and the cycle perpetuates itself. "Whatever feels good...". So we shake our heads, click our tongues, and go back to our philosophical opium dens to take another toke of the Woodstock dream...and drift away into our own strawberry fields, where living is easy with eyes closed...not seeing, not wishing to acknowledge, our complicity in the creation of the monster of our own undoing. But unless we arouse from our stupor to the Truth, who calls us to turn away from our dead existence to Life, will we even recognize our own destruction? For even dreams of "strawberry fields" do not last forever...

Radical Christianity

I believe that true Christianity is a radical concept! In the words of G. K. Chesterton, a British author and Roman Catholic, "The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting. It has been found difficult; and left untried." We expend great effort in defending our faith against the evils of the day, as we perceive them. And after we have denounced the villiany of a culture gone mad, we return, self-satisfied and self-righteous, to our own lives which, by the standards of our Lord, can scarcely be called Christian. Now please don't misunderstand me. I am not saying that no one can speak out on moral issues unless they are, themselves, leading lives of sinless perfection. But I do believe that if our first concern were our own behavior before God, than our voices would carry more moral authority.

When we say we are "pro-life" (as though anyone disagreeing with us were, by definition, "anti-life"), are we consitently "pro-life"? Do we truly care as much about the woman in crisis as we do about the unborn life within her? Or does our support end at the delivery room, careless of anything that has happended before, or happens after? And how far does our "pro-life" position extend? Do we support capital punishment? If so, do we consider the danger of our current legal system, with its "all the justice you can afford" maxim? Do we lie awake at nights out of our concern about the mis-application of capital punishment, and the execution of an innocent person? Or do we satisfy ourselves that, whatever the outcome, at least our penal system has has one less mouth to feed? Do we wrestle with the concept of a "just war", cognizant of the horrors of war and its vast toll, even upon non-combatants? Is war, for us, a final act of desperation, a last resort when all else fails? Or do we consider war merely a tool of diplomacy, a game of one-upsmanship statesmanship?

Don't get me wrong. I'm not advocating that we all put on sandals, tie-dyed clothes, love beads and peace symbols and "tune in, turn on, and drop out" while playing the guitar and singing "Kum By Yah". But somewhere within our Christian consciousness, these issues should wrench at our gut, and send us to our knees, in fear that God may choose to hold us to our own slogans. In the Bible, James (James 1:27) writes, "Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world." Do we defend the weak and powerless, or do we merely strive to be one of the powerful? Do we care for the poor, or do we hold to a "health and wealth" gospel that treats poverty like a flaw in faith or character? Do we strive to outdo one another in generosity, or do we lay up treasure for ourselves?

Jesus set before us two characteristics of the church, by which the watching world is justified in judging the reality of our gospel. They are simple, yet profound. In John 13:34-35, Jesus said, "A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another." And how does he define this "love"? Again he says in John 15:12-14, "My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends. You are my friends if you do what I command." Are we friends to Jesus and to each other? Can the world look at us, and say with conviction, "See how they love one another."? The second characteristic is found in Jesus prayer to his Father. In John 17:20-21, Jesus, praying for those who will believe in him through the message of the disciples, says, "My prayer is not for them [the disciples] alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me." Self-sacrificial love (on which hangs all the Law and the Prophets), and unity—these traits identify us before the watching world as Christians, and speak to the reality of Jesus' claim to be the Son of God and Messiah. This is the weight of glory laid on our shoulders. God forgive us if it is a cross we are unwilling to bear.

Primate Scream

we are the lost generation
sons and daughters
wandering the bleak streets
shouting in the darkness
together alone
averting empty eyes
children of the void

we live behind the page
stumble over lines
post modern post meaning
moving in the vast
directionless undefined
uttering blasphemy
imbecile gods

clumsy feeling our way
sweating lost virginity
hooked up shacked up
undulating in danse macabre
corpse-like clinging alone together
a primal demiurge
howls in the void

hurtling past cosmic sands
dust of infinity
hands clutching empty
raised to the spangled silence
to the unknown knowing
a despair of nothingness
cries to be known

swift in blinding arc
the pierced word
rips the shattered veil
like to like gives answer
echoes in the stillness
of the world-womb
a newly beating heart