Sermon for Trinity Sunday – morning
Sunday 11th June 2017
Isaiah 40. 12-17, 27-31
Matthew 28. 16-20
Revd Preb Maureen Hobbs
Let me begin by saying, that I have absolutely nothing more to add about the result of the General Election – except to say that today is all about Mystery – and that seems rather appropriate.
(on the screen you will see a famous icon, by the artist Andre Rublev, that is a depiction of the Trinity… So if you would rather sit and contemplate that, please feel free to do so.
These three figures or angels are representative of Father, Son and Holy Spirit; The table they sit at contains dishes that are very reminiscent of the Last Supper, and you will notice that each one directs our gaze to one or more of the others – and that the fourth side of the table is open…. an open invitation for us to approach.)
Today I am supposed to explain to you the mystery of the Trinity – Father, Son and Holy Spirit; Creator, Redeemer, Sustainer – One God in three Persons – a Mystery. But instead I thought we might think together about dancing.
Yes, that’s right – dancing. Moving the feet and body, more or less rhythmically, to the beat of music. Since the arrival of ‘Strictly’ on our screens, dancing has become much more popular again, and it has a language of its own that – much like fine art – speaks across national and cultural boundaries.
To begin with, I don’t suppose I am unique here this morning in that I suppose I owe my very existence to dancing. For my parents met at a dance hall. In their case it was a small community dance hall in East London at the height of the Blitz. For some of you it may have been at church dances, or Young Farmers’ Balls, or maybe at a party. I know my mother spent that evening watching a rather flashy young man showing off some fancy footwork as he danced with a partner – who, it later turned out, was his sister. Mum was in dread lest he might come and ask her to dance; she was afraid she would never keep up! Little did she know that he had sent his sister to chat to her during the tea interval (what a quaint idea!) and find out what she was like. Then, two dances before the end of the evening, he made his move – cunningly ensuring that he could keep her attention until the last waltz and then ask if he might walk her home. And the rest – as they say – is history. Well maybe not grand history, but my family history at any rate.
And, as my parents got to know each other better, Mum’s dancing improved, and Dad learned to be a little patient until she caught up with his footwork. One thing led to another and about ten years after that first meeting, I was the result! So I could, in a way, say that I was danced into being.
As I grew up it was only natural that they would want to pass on to me their love of ballroom dancing – so there followed what sticks in my memory as fairly joyless weekly ballroom dancing classes. I don’t think I ever matched their grace and poise on the dance floor – but I could once upon a time manage a passable waltz, quickstep and cha-cha. I’m afraid the intricacies of the foxtrot always stayed a mystery to me. Then came my teens and such dancing was the last thing I wanted to do! Talk about un-cool!
That was the era of the Beatles and the Stones and a whole new way of moving to music. A way of dancing that could infuriate parents and teachers – and so was infinitely preferable in our eyes. We danced our rebellion; our protest. Usually in groups of girls while our so-called partners propped up the bar until enough dutch courage was acquired to make a sudden rush for the dancefloor and begin throwing themselves around in dangerous abandon like so many demented John Travoltas. And we had our special songs – music that even today I associate with parties at college; late nights, dark rooms, joss-sticks and Mud singing Tiger Feet or the Stones’ Brown Sugar , and who was it sang “Hey-ho silver lightning?”….– yes, I know I’m showing my age. But the culture we were developing – claiming as our own, the way we wanted to move and express ourselves through dance, through music, through radical ideas were all our attempt to make a life, a future, that was better than that which we had inherited. The Peace movement; psychodelia; hippies; – strange and misguided as much of it may have been, was an attempt to redeem the world and the values of our parents that we were busy rejecting. Maybe today’s young people have suddenly started doing something similar?
Time passed – relationships came and went – and then I fell in love with someone who played in a folk dance band. So weekends involved trecking around the country as he played for barn dances and ceilidhs. It perhaps wasn’t a conventional courtship, but then love makes one blind to many things! But it did mean that I re-learned many of the reels and square and circle dances first encountered at primary school. For I quickly decided that I would not spend the whole evening gazing adoringly at my beloved while he had his arms wrapped around – his double bass. If you can’t beat them, join them – so I joined in the dances and for a while this sustained not just our relationship but a whole circle of friends too – a complete social life built around the English Folk Dance and Song Society.
I learned new dances too – one I can think of called the Morpeth Rant – anyone know it? Well I can no longer demonstrate it – especially dressed like this! – but it is pretty energetic and one of those dances for groups of threes – usually one man, partnering two girls. It comes from the North–East and involves step-dancing – related to Irish step-dancing – Not to be attempted unless you are fairly fit – but in those days I had knees that worked! It also progresses around a circle, three facing three and dancing around each other in a lively, breathless and joyful procession – continually crossing over, ducking and diving, linking hands and whirling around.
The great thing about dancing – whether the formality of ballroom dancing, the reckless abandon of break-dancing or the robust, exhausting and occasionally downright dangerous exuberance of folk dancing is that it involves your whole being. Your whole body, certainly, and your sense of hearing – of balance and your mind has to keep focussed on the music – all of yourself in fact. And to watch someone dance is to be moved to join in… It is infectious; it is inviting; maybe new disciples would find it easier to approach faith, if we emphasised the dance-like quality of God? It is no wonder that there are people and places that seek to bring dance into their worship as something to dedicate to God – some way in which to praise and pray to the Father, Son and Holy Spirit – the one who Creates us, Redeems us and Sustains us through our lives.
So there you are – a few meditations on dance – Oh, and it seems the mystery of the Trinity. Three in one and one in three, dancing in eternal relationship and calling us to join the circle.
Dance then, wherever you may be. I am the Lord of the dance, said he. I’ll live in you if you’ll live in me. I am the Lord of the dance said he.