Sermon for the Sixteenth Sunday in Pentecost
September 12, 2010
I will have to paraphrase the sermon, or give my best recollection of it since I was working without a net on Sunday. I hadn’t pulled out my guitar in a while at the late service, and I figured we’d have a bunch of folks back from vacations so I thought we should have some fun.
I began by having them sing the first three verses of Lord of the Dance. Dance then wherever you may be. I am the Lord of the dance said he, and I’ll lead you all, wherever you may be for I am the Lord of the dance said he.
From there I went into a John-can’t-dance routine……
When I went in last month to have my foot surgery, I was waiting in the pre-op room, you know, where they put lines into your arms and monitors on you. They give you a shot that will “take the edge off.” Anyway, I’m lying there thinking that when I see the doctor I’ll pull the old will-I-be-able-to-dance gag, the one that goes will I be able to dance after the surgery? Great, I’ve always wished I could dance. Right. Well I thought about it and then decided not to do it. But when I saw the doctor the next week in his office, I saw my chance. I asked him if I’d be able to dance when everything healed and he said, “you already did that to me in the operating room.” I don’t want to know what else I might have said as I was zoning out before surgery.
I have always made jokes about not being much of a dancer. During my teen years I was staring at lava lamps and contemplating with Maharishi, and I never really got around to dancing. I do, however, remember those first junior high dances where you kind of had to go but didn’t really want to have to dance. Those things were usually put on by grown ups. They sometimes even chose the music. Not good. Anyway, most of us--guys, that is-- would stand around the edges of the dance floor trying to avoid going out there. There were two things that might get one out on the floor in such situations.
One way was that your friends, who really didn’t have your best interest at heart, would goad you into dancing. They just wanted you out there so they could laugh at you. They’d tell you you were chicken, or just push you out into the action. Their basic approach was to push you in a direction and make you feel bad if you tried to resist.
The other thing that could get you out onto the floor worked from the other direction. Somewhere out there, maybe hugging the wall on the other side of the room, was a girl. She would look at you with eyes that said, “I hope you’ll ask me to dance.” Those eyes and a smile would suggest that even if you didn’t think you could dance, you might be able to in her presence. She would be like Charlie Brown’s “little red-haired girl,” the one who makes him all goofy and a believer in the impossible. That girl inviting me out onto the floor was the other thing that could pull me into the dance.
That was the difference. The guys were pushing and she was inviting. I have always liked the invitation better than the shove. You probably do too.
I thought of this dance thing when I saw the lessons for tis morning. Here we have Jeremiah talking about foolish children, stupid people, filled with evil. Jeremiah is trying to get his people to do the right thing. You’re a bunch of jerks, he seems to be saying. Get your act together and get out there and do what you’re supposed to. Jeremiah is pushing and shaming his hearers into compliance.
Jesus, on the other hand, is in trouble today for being willing to hang out with anyone. Everyone is welcome--invited by Jesus into the dance. Jeremiah would push us into the dance, but Jesus searches us, looking for some opening where the invitation can take hold. He doesn’t push people away or begin by telling them what is wrong with them. He begins by telling them they are wanted. Come out onto the floor, says Jesus, and you may be surprised at what we can do together. I don’t care what you have thought about yourself or what others have told you you can’t do. I want you out here in the dance. Come on. Give me a try.
The other thing we read in this bit from Luke today goes right along with this theme of welcome in the way Jesus invites us to participate with him. Jesus tells two stories about seeking the lost--stories about every last one of us being worth whatever effort it might take to find us and include us. Every one of us has something to contribute to the dance, every one of us is important. Even if we’ve believed at times that we were flawed or unneeded or not valuable, Jesus tells us today that we count, we are important, we are worth a celebration. Not only are we invited to come and dance with Jesus. we’d be missed if we didn’t show up. Even I’ll try dancing if that’s the deal.
……….I stopped talking somewhere around there, and we sang the last two verses of the song.
I danced on a Friday when the sky turned black…….they bruied my body and they thought I’d gone, but I am the dance and I still go on.
They cut me down and I leapt up high. I am the life that’ll never never die. I’ll live in you if you’ll live in me. I am the Lord of the dance said he.
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