In the thunder and the lightning and the rain, in waves dashing over a rocky New England coastline, in wind whistling through tree branches, in the chatter of birds, I knew that God was dancing.
I danced back. Skipping, jumping puddles, swinging as high as I could on the backyard swing, flying along the sidewalk on my push scooter, making slow silent movements standing under quietly falling snow, dancing in the darkness of the living room after supper accompanied by my father’s Mantovani recordings. God and I shared a language of motion. We had great conversations.
As I grew older, I learned about creation and redemption, how God created and then redeemed the whole of the human person, body, mind, spirit and emotions. It made total sense that we would pray with not only the mind and heart, but with the body, as well. For many years, I taught creative, improvisational sacred dance classes around this country and in Australia, for persons of all ages and of all levels of mobility. I worked with congregations to awaken awareness of their own worshipful standing, bowing, processing, making the sign of the Cross, reaching out to each other in greeting and peace.
Now I dance with my husband in Kactus Kickers, a senior couples’ western pattern dance club. As 50 to 60 couples circle the auditorium, dancing in perfect unison, it is easy to see and feel the power of community that is created by that unified movement together.
I also dance in an informal folk dance club. Weekly, we learn traditional dances from countries around the world while holding hands in circles and lines. In the past months, we have physically experienced the cultural spirit of Assyria, Bolivia, Israel, Romania, Brazil, Japan, Ukraine, Turkey, USA, Angola, India, Azerbaijan and Croatia. Even greater than the community we experience among ourselves is the community we feel with the peoples of the world. I will never forget the day we did a dance from Ukraine accompanied by a song titled (translated into English) “The House on the Hill.” As we began, the person holding my hand to the right whispered, “Let us pray the house is still standing.” There is no way we can join in the dances of our brothers and sisters worldwide and be isolationists either politically or spiritually.
When my husband and I were in Nova Scotia on an RV trip, we went to an evening Ceilidh, or community dance, intending to watch. Many hands and insistent encouragement drew us into each and every dance. There are no strangers at a Ceilidh.
In Hawaii, I was watching a processional dance at a Japanese Bon Festival when a woman reached out to me, handed me the requisite dance “scarf,” and pulled me into this reverent procession in remembrance of our ancestors.
I could go on. Enough to say that by joining hands and hearts with others, strangers and friends alike, from near and far, we step into the river of a universal sacred dance, and move in peace and grace with all of creation, and with all peoples of the Earth. We dance with God!
Tucson faith leaders, we would like to include your original sermon or scriptures of encouragement. Sermons must be written by the person submitting them, not borrowed from another source or writer. If you are a faith leader from any religion or denomination, please contact Sara Brown at sbbrown@tucson.com.
After the pandemic, the Tucson Chinese Cultural Center had to rebuild its Lion Dance program. For a year, Tucson filmmaker Nolan Veneklasen, who was once active in the Lion Dance program, documented that process.
