"Dancing and Risking" given July 15

In our Gospel readings lately we’ve been reading Mark’s narrative of the early days of our Lord Jesus’ earthly ministry. And that narrative will go on. But sandwiched in-between in the Gospel, we get this story, this seemingly out-of-place, possibly even suggestive, certainly bloodthirsty account of how King Herod Antipas, after he had blown out the candles on his birthday cake, snuffed out the life of John the Baptizer. John had confronted the king because he’d violated the laws of Moses— by taking his brother’s wife as his own. Herod responded by imprisoning this loud-mouthed meddling prophet.

But Herod has not executed John. He apparently fears, or at least respects the Baptizer. He visits him, to talk, to listen. But on the basis of a drunken promise, he will callously sacrifice John.

John’s life ends up taken because Herod was enchanted by the dance of his new stepdaughter. We’ve all heard the story many times. But there’s a lot that we aren’t told. What was the girl's name? What kind of dance did she do? We may think we know the answers—but we don’t

Neither Mark, nor the parallels in Matthew and Luke, mentions the name Salome. None of them refer to a seductive so-called “dance of the seven veils." Some of those images have come down to us from the Jewish historian Josephus, some from the imaginations of composers and artists down the years.

What the Gospels leave us with, in the end, is a macho fool too obsessed with his own image to risk humiliating himself before his guests. The text paints Herodias as the scheming villain, much as Genesis paints Eve. Whether that's fact or bias, it is still Herod who comes off in the least flattering light. Rather than the story of a dance of seven veils, what we’re left with here is the story of a dance of deception and manipulation — a dance of death.

The story is powerfully subversive of all those in power. Kings and Governors and Politicians like Herod don’t get a very sympathetic portrait in the New Testament. From the beginning, they are major adversaries to Jesus and the message he’s come to proclaim. They pipe the tune of greed and pride and human power. They dance the dance of death.

In contrast, in our Old Testament Reading we see David, who has at last been made King of both Judah and Israel dancing a different kind of dance before the sacred Ark of the Covenant as it is brought to Jerusalem—the new capital of his newly united kingdom. This is not just a politically important moment for David. It’s also religiously important. It’s in fact, ultimately important.

The Ark is not just another piece of liturgical furniture, like candelabra or even an altar. The physical presence of the Ark actually reflects of the Living Presence of Yahweh, the God of Israel, among God’s people. Once the Ark is in Jerusalem, it will show to all God’s blessing and continuing Sovereignty over this new nation. Although David has been crowned king— God is still in charge. It is still God who ultimately rules, and it is only from God that David’s authority flows.

The moving of the Ark is so significant that it must be done with utter liturgical scrupulosity. The Ark must be transported correctly, carefully, and reverently. Anything else reduces the Ark to nothing but a man-made symbol.

Anything else demeans God’s ultimate authority and asserts human authority.

Anything else is a dance of death.

So David dances before the Ark—a dance of joy, and of belief, and of awe. David poured his whole being into the music, into being present with God, into dancing before his God a dance of life. David dances in praise before his God, dancing a dance of faithfulness and commitment.

That’s the same dance and praise you and I are invited to join in, as well. Jesus didn’t come, after all, urging us to think about him, or feel deeply about him, or make intellectual and theological assertions about him. The Lord of the Dance isn’t looking for our disembodied individual spirits. Jesus didn’t come asking people to give their hearts and souls. Jesus came, calling us to join him in becoming citizens of a country he called the “Kingdom of God.”

The Lord of the Dance wants you and me body and soul, mind and heart— all that we are. After all, a human being requires feet in order to dance. And we need a voice to praise, hands to reach out, a heart to care, and a mind to understand the tune. You and I will need to bring all of ourselves if we’re going to join in Jesus’ dance of the Realm of God.

When we see Jesus dancing in the Gospels-- casting out demons, and healing the broken ones, and feeding the hungry, we’re invited to see that, as He says again and again, “The Kingdom of God has come near to you.”

Mark tells us that Jesus began to speak in this way right after the authorities seized the Baptizer.

“Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, ‘The time is fulfilled, and the Kingdom of God has come near. So repent, and believe the good news.’”

Mark makes a direct connection between John’s arrest, and the inauguration of Jesus’ Kingdom. And that Kingdom was going to be the source of conflict. John gets arrested, and despite the better judgement of Herod Antipas, he is killed by the powers of this world. The same thing, Mark is warning us, is going to happen to Jesus. Despite the hesitations of this same Herod, the Lord of the Dance will end up nailed to a cross by the authorities and executed as a revolutionary. The Gospels say he was crucified between “two thieves”, but the same Greek word could just as easily have been translated as “revolutionaries”.

Crucifixion was a method of execution the Roman Empire reserved as a deterrent. It was a horrible, painful, degrading way to die-- intended to serve as a brutal example of the fate of those who defied its power, who had tried to upset the established political order—escaped slaves, outlaws, rebels, and agitators.

Mark is warning us that when disciples go out to do the work of the holy realm, when God’s people begin to truly dance the dance of faithfulness and new life, when the church rises up to be the church, that the world rises up to be the world. So, the disciples go out to preach the gospel. But John preached the Kingdom, too, and the world snuffed him out. So, the disciples go out to cast out demons and to heal. But the Baptizer sought to confront and heal the demons that raged in King Herod’s life, and it cost him his life. Mark’s right. When the people of God begin to dance the dance of new life, when the church rises up to be the church, the world rises up to be the world.

Now this may sound a bit strange to us, because this is not our usual experience. It looks to us like when we do the work of the church-- the world rises up to call us blessed. When we preach the gospel, the world invites us to join the Kiwanis. When we reach out to heal, the world puts us on the hospital board.

Mark would have understood that problem. According to Mark, at first Herod did not want to harm John; he just wanted to domesticate him. Herod was threatened by John. But as long as he could keep him in chains, Herod heard John gladly.

But then when push came to shove, Herod was just as sorry as he could be, but John had to go. When believers refuse to dance the dance of fear and subservience any longer, when the church rises up to be the church, the world inevitably rises up to be the world.

But Mark wants us to know something else as well. If Mark wants us to learn the hard truth that when the church rises up to be the church, the world rises up to be the world, he also wants us to know that, when the world rises up to be the world, Jesus Christ rises from the dead.

In fact, Mark tells us that, when Herod found out about the church being the church, he slapped his forehead and exclaimed something like, "I thought I had that nailed down that Jesus. Somebody's been raised up from the dead!"

The dance still goes on. And it’s a dance of life—new life.

To be a part of Jesus’ earthly reign was—and still is risky. To give yourself to the dance of new life is to make some pretty radical affirmations. To be part of any kingdom is to acknowledge who is in charge-- whose will it is that ultimately counts in this world. To join Christ’s Kingdom means we consciously stop dancing the dance of this world— the dance of power and authority and violence and death-- and instead join in the dance of new life, the dance of the new world Christ is calling into being.

Any kingdom has citizens and non-citizens. When you and I begin to pray the prayer our Lord Jesus taught us— “Our Father” there is a kind of inclusivity implied. God, we’re asserting, is Father—Heavenly Parent of all. But then we go on in the prayer to add, “Your Kingdom come,” and we’re suddenly in the realm of exclusivity—we’re talking about God’s earthly reign—not Caesar’s kingdom or Satan’s kingdom, or even an American people’s kingdom.

Any kingdom has borders. There’s a gap between this sad and sorry world and that Holy Realm Jesus was talking about. It’s obvious to anyone who cares to look. The people who first encountered Jesus face to face understood this—like him or loathe him, no one could deny that this. The Lord of the Dance was fundamentally different. He was talking about and living out and dancing a new way of life—a holy realm fundamentally different than anyone or anything anyone had ever encountered or even imagined before.

That Kingdom he was talking about—God’s Holy Realm enables us—indeed requires us-- to stand in opposition to the artificial borders established by the world and it’s kingdoms. The world’s borders are inevitably established on the basis of differences between people—such as their sexualities, or class, or race, or economics, or tongue, or age, or even their accents. The kingdoms of this world will set up geographic boundaries and defend them with murderous intent.

But the Kingdom Jesus kept preaching about has most powerful boundary in history-- because it has the power to obliterate all of the parochial, provincial, false demarcations between people that the world can dream up. His is a Kingdom open to all— an earthly reign with no consideration given for the world’s borders or boundaries. Paul wrote in Galatians 3:

“As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourself with Christ. There is now no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer woman or man, for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.”

Baptism, the Rite of our Christian initiation, is our call to become citizens of the new Israel. It is our invitation to become part of God’s unusual, unique, unexpected way of saving the world. It is our invitation to join in dancing the dance of new life.

When you join Kiwanis, they give you a handshake and a lapel pin and a membership card. When you join Christ’s Holy Realm, we splash some water on you, hand you a Bible, and tell you that you’ve just been born again. And then we push you out the church door and tell you to listen for the music, to pick up your feet and start dancing.

Barbara Langdon tells of waiting at a bus stop in Nairobi, on her way to the center of the city to go to church. As she sat waiting, she heard some music off in the distance. She asked the person on the bench beside her what it was.

"It is from the people running to church," he said.

"Running?"

"They run together in a rhythm. And they sing all the way there and all the way back. It is five miles they run and sing every Sunday."

Then she saw them, fifty or so people running down the road, singing as they went. Ten miles of singing each Sabbath.

Langdon wondered what would people in this country think of Christians if we were to begin to truly run and dance and praise and sing the Gospel?

The Baptizer danced and died as a prophet of God, because he understood his call to speak the truth to those in power. The Lord of the Dance calls you and me to become his disciples, to live our lives after his example, to speak words of healing and truth—just as He spoke. The story of David invites us to offer our praise with whatever gifts we have been given. The Gospel reminds us that part of following is to become a prophet when necessary—to speak the truth to those in power—and to speak words of comfort and hope to the powerless, the oppressed, and the needy. And to dance and praise.

Jesus invites us to go out this day and be His church. He says we needn't take two coats, a bag of money, an insurance policy, or anything else we think may protect you as we do God's work in the world. Nothing can spare us from the evil intent of the Herods of this world. We need take only the gospel and our confident faith that, when all is said and done, all the Herods in the world will say, "Somebody has been raised from the dead. The power we thought was nailed down is loose again in the world." The dance goes on.