Called to the dance
Published 10:00 am Friday, June 5, 2009
David danced before the Lord with all his might; David was girded with a linen ephod.
So David and all the house of Israel brought up the ark of the Lord with shouting, and with the sound of the trumpet. As the ark of the Lord came into the city of David, Michal daughter of Saul looked out of the window, and saw King David leaping and dancing before the Lord; and she despised him in her heart.
— 2 Samuel 6:14-16
David’s royal wife has a point. For the king to leap about with abandon, exposing himself (in far too many senses of the word) is unseemly behavior surely beneath the dignity of a king.
Then why does David’s dance seem so oddly appealing? What would that be like, to be so focused on dancing in God’s glory that self-consciousness and modesty are forgotten?
My grandma Hulda loved to dance. She told stories about the dance hall in Kimberly, where in her youth a concertina player would come from Duluth and play until the last train home. A sentry would be posted within view of the train depot, to alert the musician when his train had arrived. It was imperative that the music and dancing must go on until the last possible minute.
At my sister’s wedding, grandma needed a walker to move about. But when the dance began, aging bones forgot their pain and grandma danced, leaving her walker behind.
Early church teachers explained the Trinity — Father, Son, and Holy Spirit — as a perichoresis, a community circle dance into which all are called.
My own aging joints make dancing less fun than it once was. I took a ballroom dance class in college and lost myself in the swift spins of a Viennese waltz. I danced in a Dutch folkdance group and taught Dutch folkdance to children, some of whom are now teaching their own groups. The dance goes on.
Sydney Carter, who wrote the well-known song “Lord of the Dance,” once wrote:
Coming and going by the dance, I see
That what I am not is a part of me.
Dancing is all that I can ever trust,
The dance is all I am, the rest is dust.
I will believe my bones and live by what
Will go on dancing when my bones are not.
May you discover your divine friend who calls you to the dance.