Dare to Dance Again: Dancing Together
John 20:19-31, Acts 4:32-35
April 11, 2021
Emmanuel Baptist Church; Rev. Kathy Donley
Image: Christ Dancing on the Sea of Galilee
Heimo Christian Haikala, 1999
Note: A recording of the worship service in which this sermon was preached may be found here: https://youtu.be/udK3_SWSJo8
It was Easter Sunday night, according to John. It was Easter Sunday night, but the disciples were still afraid. Mary Magdalene had spread the word about Resurrection. She had relayed the story that she had seen the Risen Lord. If you’re remembering last week where the women said nothing to nobody, well, that’s how Mark tells it. But John says that early on Easter Sunday morning, Jesus talked with Mary and Mary told the others. But that night, they were in hiding together, behind locked doors. I don’t blame them. They had seen how quickly a cheering crowd can become a mob. They had witnessed the betrayal of Jesus by someone in the inner circle. The sights and sounds and terrible details of a crucifixion were now seared into memory, part of their nightmares and daytime terrors. Even though, they wanted to believe Mary, they were still afraid.
So when Jesus came to them that Sunday night, they were in hiding. It says that they rejoiced when they saw him. And then, the next Sunday night, they were back in the same place, with the doors locked again. It doesn’t say that they were in hiding the next week. It doesn’t mention fear. But I wonder. How long does it take for the visceral fear of crucifixion to fade? What’s the average interval for a human being to come to terms with a Resurrection?
If you have become used to staying away from the crowds, fearful of being out in public, how and when do you pick up your life again? That question resonates in new ways this year.
Eventually, the disciples left that house with the locked doors. Eventually they went out. They went back to the crowded, busy Temple. Some returned to Galilee. Some put on their traveling clothes and criss-crossed the Empire. They went from huddling behind locked doors to founding a religious movement that engaged other people in exponential numbers.
“What would you do if you were not afraid?” That’s a popular question in some circles. An entire sermon could be devoted just to that. Obviously, fear can be a good thing. Fear can warn us of real danger. Fear can keep us alive.
But fear can also keep us from living fully. Jesus was afraid. We see that in the Garden of Gethsemane. But he didn’t allow that to keep him from his mission. So, perhaps the question is not “what would you do if you were not afraid?” Perhaps the better question is “what will you do in spite of your fear?”
The Bible is not very explicit about how Jesus’ first followers overcame their fears. What I find in our texts this morning are not nearly enough details, but maybe enough hints to get us started.
First we might notice that when Jesus appears, the disciples don’t recognize him right away. And Thomas doesn’t recognize him right away a week later. This is a hint that when Jesus shows up in our lives, we may not recognize him. When Jesus appears, as the person who makes us uncomfortable; when Jesus appears, with a task that seems beyond our ability; when Jesus appears, in the midst of our doubts and fears, we may not recognize him.
Jesus appears to the group of disciples, and a week later to Thomas, who needed his own first-hand experience. Thomas gets two clues to Jesus’ identity. Jesus speaks peace to him and he lets Thomas see and touch the wounds of his execution. Serene Jones is the president of Union Seminary in New York City. She writes, “When God comes, we will recognize God’s presence in those moments when peace is offered, in those moments when life’s most brutal violence is honestly acknowledged, and when in the midst of this bracing honesty, we realize that we are not alone, but have, in fact, been always, already found.” [1]
Thomas and the others recognize Jesus by his peace and by his wounds. This presence of God is honest about how much there is to be afraid of, but claims peace in spite of it. There is a power in that.
A second hint – after they recognize him, it says that Jesus breathes on them. These days, we try very hard not to breathe on each other, not to share in that way. We understand shared breath, especially right now, as a negative power, but they understand it as a positive one. When Jesus breathes on them, it evokes Genesis 2 where God breathes life into the first human being. Jesus breathes on them and says “Receive the Holy Spirit.” We remember that breath and spirit are the same word. Jesus’s breath is the Spirit of God, the same spirit which filled the lungs and gave life to the first human being.
The second hint about how Jesus’ first followers moved beyond their fears is this – they shared the Spirit of God, the Spirit of Jesus. This goes right to the heart of our seasonal theme. It’s the Greek word perichoresis. Perichoresis – you probably use that word every week. It is one way early theologians described the relationship between the three persons of the Trinity. If we break it down, we have peri – which means around or about, as in perimeter. And we have choresis – which means to move, to give way, to make room. It is related to our word choreography. Perichoresis is the idea that God is fundamentally Being in Relationship. God, whom we might describe as Creator, Son and Spirit, is continually making room, moving about. The Creator makes room for the Son. The Son moves about the Spirit in a divine dance of mutuality and love and joy. Perichoresis means dance.
Meister Eckhart, a theologian from the Middle Ages said,
“Do you want to know what goes on in the core of the Trinity? I will tell you. In the core of the Trinity the Father laughs and gives birth to the Son. The Son laughs back at the Father and gives birth to the Spirit. The whole Trinity laughs and gives birth to us.”[2]
When Jesus breathes the Spirit onto the disciples, he invites them into that divine relationship, that eternal dance of joy and laughter.
How do we come out from behind locked doors? Where do we find courage in spite of our fears? We just step out on the dance floor with the Trinity, recognizing the power of God’s Spirit in us, as close as our very breath.
That word perichoresis is very helpful to me. The dance goes on and on. God moves around and makes way for God’s own self and for us, both in simple steps and elaborate patterns we may not even be aware of.
Church historians can look back at the patterns now, but in those early days, people simply moved as the Spirit led them. So the book of Acts reports that they worshipped in the Temple and broke bread in their homes. Out in the world they were about Jesus’ work together and at other times, they shared meals in each other’s homes. The dance wove through every aspect of their lives.
Which brings me to the last hint. Our reading describes great unity among the believers. It says that they share everything they had with each other and there was not a needy person among them. What strikes me is that in order for needs to be met, needs have to be known. In order for needs to be known, they have to be shared. The person who needs something has to speak up. Like Thomas did. Thomas said, “I need to see and touch Jesus for myself.” And Jesus met his need. It doesn’t always happen that way. Some times others cannot or will not meet our needs, but sometimes what is necessary is finding the courage to make the need known. Especially to a community of faith, a community dancing in the Spirit.
A few weeks ago, Daniel and Lisa had to fly on an airplane. Air travel mostly seems to be happening on an urgent basis, but they needed to go visit a loved one. So they did. On the return flight, they hit turbulence, really bad turbulence. Daniel said it was that kind that makes you close your eyes and collapse into yourself and get really quiet. There was a teenager sitting in their row. They were strangers. They had not yet said anything to each other. In the midst of this turbulence, he said very intensely, “I need you to talk to me right now. I have terrible anxiety and this is my first time to ever fly alone, and this turbulence is messing with me. I need you to talk to me right now.”
So they started talking. Lisa introduced herself and her husband. She said, “we are going to be your best friends for the next 90 minutes! We are so proud of you for telling us what you need! That took a lot of courage and we’d be proud of our own kids for taking the risk you took. We’re all going to be okay, and we’re here for you, so just tell us what you need.”
They talked for the rest of the flight. They learned that Braden is 16 and that he plays the guitar, ukelele and piano. And that he’d just finished recording his first album.[3]
Daniel said that the conversation with Braden was holy ground, one of the most beautiful things he had been part of in a long time. But it only happened because Braden took the risk of being honest and let his need be known.
I’m not sure who needs to hear that today, but it is the story that I could not shake this week. What I know is that many of us are used to handling things ourselves. We don’t like to be a nuisance or to inconvenience others. We don’t want to be seen as weak or incompetent or stupid. All of those things may keep us from simply letting our needs be known.
What I know is that most of us believe that God has called us to help others. We’re pretty good at that sometimes. We usually like to give help more than to receive it. But I wonder. In dance terms, it seems like always being the giver is like always taking the lead and the beauty of the dance is that there is leading and following. The beauty of perichoresis is that God the Redeemer makes room for God the Spirit who moves around God the Creator and the dance of joy goes on and on.
Maybe you need to find the courage to name your needs. Maybe you need to find the courage to respond to someone else’s needs. I pray that together we will find the holy ground where honesty and peace prevail. I hope that we take a deep breath and join the dance. Amen.
[1] Serene Jones in Feasting on the Word Year B, Volume 2, David Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, general editors, (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox Press, 2008), p. 404.
[2] Matthew Fox, Meditations with Meister Eckhart, (Rochester, VT: Bear and Company, 1983 p. 129.
[3] https://www.facebook.com/daniel.grothe.14/posts/874576660049238