Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Shall We Dance?


Shall We Dance?
Psalm 30; John 21:1-19

Some years ago, I found myself in a new relationship. After dating for awhile, this beautiful woman agreed to become my wife. I was so happy, I could dance. Except, I really couldn’t dance. So, in anticipation of our wedding day and the reception, and the traditional “first dance,” we signed up for a special deal at a dance studio. We were going to learn how to dance. With the introductory special, the teachers took us through the steps for the fox trot, and then there was waltz, west coast swing, mambo, samba, chacha, rumba. By this time, I was more confused than confident. When the introductory sessions ended, they sat down with us to offer a package to learn more. For another $2K we could become proficient dancers. We weren’t preparing to audition for Dancing with the Stars! If you attended our wedding and reception you may not remember the first dance. We were too busy enjoying our guests.

Deanna is a woman about my age. She was living in New York City for a time. Deanna enjoyed getting around on the subways, but also she enjoyed the sights and sounds of the subway stations. One day there were two blues bands that were a bit closer than usual. They got into a competition of sorts, playing back and forth, point-counterpoint, call and response. A crowd had gathered to enjoy the the moment. In the group was one particular woman. She was dressed with layers that were more than what the weather might indicate. Her colors were varied and mis-matched. She had all the appearance of a person who lived day to day without the comfort and security of a traditional home.

What caught Deanna’s attention, though, was when this woman began spontaneously moving to the music. Her first movements were followed by more, and then she stepped into an open area and began to dance, dancing to the music that filled the tunnel. Deanna handed her bags to her companion and stepped into the open space. She approached the woman and simply said, “May I join you?” The woman invited her in, and together, the two swayed and stepped and danced. For a few moments the two were lost in the joy and abandon of sharing the dance. What struck me, when I first heard her tell her story was that she approached the woman without judgement, without prejudice. She did not try to teach her how to dance properly, but joined her in the dancing that brought her a moment of joy. Deanna was simply joining her in her dance of life where joy and grace abounds.

There is something about the image of dancing: not so much as a precise form of art but as engaging in life with joy and abandon.


Psalm 30 knows something about the place of dance in life. In life you often find yourself taking one step forward and another step backward. So you have “step, step, cha-cha-cha.” Or, in terms of Psalm 30, you have the dance of reversals: anger and favor, weeping and joy, mourning and dancing. We regularly experience reversals in life, if we pay attention. Night and day, hot and cold, coming in and going out, ending and beginning. We experience reversals all the time, such as turning mourning and grief into laughter and dancing.

Have you noticed that we can only sustain crying for so long before we give way to something else? In the hospital emergency department there is often a “quiet room.” A family is waiting there for word of their loved one who came in by Rescue. The doctor waits for the chaplain to arrive before going into the room of expectant family. When they go in the doctor stumbles over the words. This bad news is never easy to deliver. “I’m sorry. We did everything we could.” The family falls apart. The crying is intense. Wailing. Falling out. The doctor is obviously uncomfortable. To his credit, he stays in the room. He wants to fix something, but he can’t. He follows the lead of the chaplain. The chaplain stays with the family; not anxious but knowing. Not trying to fix, but allowing what is. After a while the crying subsides. A little later the sniffling  noses begin to dry. Stories begin to be told. The chaplain encourages stories. Some stories remembered are rather funny and there comes the laughter. There is sadness and tears, but there are also good memories, and laughter. It’s part of the dance of life. The chaplain has joined them in their dancing.

When you have been through enough dark nights you begin to trust that the dawn will come and dispel the darkness. You go through enough difficult times, you begin to realize that “this too shall pass,” and the mourning will turn to dancing.

So, turning our attention to the gospel reading, what’s going on with the disciples? Are they caught in the darkness of the night? Not so much. They had, twice already, encountered the risen Jesus. They had seen the dawn, the Son-Rise, as it were. In fact, Jesus had already breathed on them his Spirit, empowering them for their continuing of his ministry. He has commissioned them to continue the ministry. Knowing that Jesus is raised, experiencing the empowerment, having been given their orders, what are the disciples to do?

Well, they weren’t in the mood for dancing. A group of them found their way down to the familiar lake where they had spent so many hours and nights in the past. Peter announces, “I’m going fishing. Who’s with me?” Here is where the story is more about the church than it is about the factual events of the disciples’ lives.

We’re  not going to mine this passage for all it’s worth, although that may be a good discussion for a class, some day. Instead, I’d like to hit a few of the highlights, as I see them. First, a little perspective. It is generally understood that Jesus died sometime around the years 30 - 33. The first Gospel, Mark’s gospel, was written about the year 50, so 20 years later. The time around the the 50’s and 60’s is when most of the writings we have in the New Testament were written. Then John’s Gospel comes a bit later, around the year 90, so 60 years after Jesus’ death and 40 years after Mark. The writer of this gospel was motivated to teach the church something it needed to hear and learn.

So, the first thing that these disciples do after their encounter with the risen Jesus is to go fishing. They had been called to fish for people. Now they are fishing for fish: essentially taking care of themselves, doing what would satisfy their need for working together, encouraging each other, and putting food on the table. They were misdirected in their choice of activity, which is further illustrated by the fact that they had their nets on the wrong side of the boat and their activity was unproductive, as far as fishing goes. I’m sure they were still having a grand time, together. Granted, in the earliest days of the church, the followers were probably a bit confused and uncertain. They knew they needed to stick together, to enhance their sense of community, but what does it mean to be fishers of people? What does it mean to follow in the way of Jesus?

Eventually, Jesus comes upon these misdirected disciples who were fishing for something to do. He knows they aren’t catching anything and instructs them to throw their net on the other side of the boat. Now, they have an impossibly large catch of fish, so big that the net would normally be split apart. Even with all the stress and strain, the net stays in one piece.

How do we understand this? Most simply, when the disciples, when the church, works together and follows the teachings of Jesus the results can be miraculous. And also, when we work together toward our common ministry, there will be a stress and strain, and it’s important to tend to our unity, to not let the net become split apart. We must tend to our nets. We must take care of the boat, encourage and support one another. We must take time to share the meal that Jesus has prepared for us, whether it is loaves and fish, or the bread and wine of Communion. But that, in itself, is not the goal. If that is all that we are about, then we are mis-directed.

Peter, do you love me? . . . Feed my lambs.
Peter, do you love me? . . . Tend my sheep.
Peter, do you love me? . . . Feed my sheep.

This is where the dance begins: Tending to our community within the congregation, and tending to the community outside the walls of our church. To do either one without the other is to be mis-directed.

Returning to this image of the dance, I would suggest that there are two kinds of dancing. There is the knowledgeable dancing. Taking classes with experts, you learn the steps and the sequences, and how to make it look smooth. Square dancing, line dancing, a little fox-trot, can all be a lot of fun. Just as gathering for hymn sings and Bible studies and prayer groups are all important as we learn the dance steps and sequences that make it meaningful.

But there is another dance, just as important. It is the more spontaneous act of joining with another in their response to life. That’s not the time to teach them the proper steps. It’s time to be open to what moves them, and join in the rhythm. Without judgement, without prejudice, without imposing new expectations, just joining the other with compassion, with grace and with joy.

In fact, is that not how God joins us? God joins us in the rhythm of our lives, in the darkness as well as the light, in our grief and in our joy, in the crying and in the laughter, in our mourning and our dancing. In it all, God is there, with love, with grace, with compassion.

Look around you where you live and where you work. Look around the neighborhoods that surround this church. What are the needs that you see? What are the hopes of the people you meet? What are their hurts. How can we join them in their hurts and in their hopes? How can we approach them with compassion and grace? How might we be a part of turning their mourning into dancing?

But be prepared. The net will be under great stress and strain when we listen and follow in the way that Jesus has shown us.

So, shall we dance?


Jess McCrosky
St. Andrews Presbyterian Church
Jacksonvill, FL
April 14, 2013

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