And [We] Still Go On

They buried My body, and they thought I’d gone
But I am the Dance, and I still go on.

“Lord of the Dance,” by Sydney Carter (1963)

Dearest Rachel –

So, apropos of absolutely nothing, this is what I woke up to this morning. No dreams (that I can remember), no philosophical musings. Just this song, particularly the penultimate verse of it, for reasons known only to my mind and God, neither of which are telling me why. Thus, it falls to me to muse over this for a bit as I talk to you this morning, and see if I can come up with something that makes sense.

It’s true that it’s told from Jesus’ point of view, which is unique from that of the general human condition, so in a way, it can’t always be expected to apply to us. On the other hand, as believers and followers of Him, we’re meant to emulate Him (it’s why we bear His name as ‘Christians,’ after all). So let’s take a look at this.

I had to look up the story behind the song, in order to find out who wrote it, and when, and I discovered that the author was afraid that his song wouldn’t be accepted by many people; the idea of Jesus dancing, especially in a day and age when many Christians considered that activity to be sinful (the best explanation of that perspective was a description of it as ‘a vertical expression of a horizontal desire,’ which isn’t far wrong in a number of contexts – and to think, this phrase was coined before things like twerking came into vogue) had him fearing that his lyrics would be considered nearly heretical. Then again, while we here on earth have trouble picturing Him even so much as smiling or laughing – there’s that verse beloved of those who otherwise have difficulty memorizing Biblical passage, “Jesus wept,” but no corresponding ones suggesting that He ever expressed joy – there were those in His day who criticized what they perceived to be overindulgence on His part, especially in comparison to His predecessor (and cousin) John the Baptist. It was such that Jesus Himself commented about it several times throughout the gospels, so it must have been a prevalent opinion that came from casual observation.

After all, even His very first miracle was meant to prolong a good party (or at least, to keep it from ending prematurely) by providing wine for a wedding. So clearly, the Man was no killjoy, even as He at first protested (to His mother, no less!) that the situation she was asking Him to resolve (which rather suggests she knew He was already well capable of doing something like this; had He provided for His family in such a manner that we’ve not been told about? God only knows) was none of His business. If He endorsed drinking at a party by doing so, it’s no great stretch to think He would have enjoyed, and participated in, a joyful dance when the situation called for it.

It’s that same sort of attitude that was instructed to later followers by Paul: “Rejoice without ceasing,” he wrote. This was to a persecuted church in the middle of Nero’s Rome. If ever it would be difficult to remain joyful, that time and place would be it. I may mourn over having lost you – the phrase that I woke up with in particular was the line “it’s hard to dance with the world on your back;” and yes, I realize I got the lyric wrong – but as hard as I find it to be happy sometimes, that’s different from joy. I’m not always sure how to cultivate the latter when the former isn’t at hand (I understand the former to be an emotion, ephemeral and fleeting, while the latter is a state of mind that we choose to dwell in, or not), but perhaps that’s one of many things I’ve been left here to figure out. To be sure – at least, as far as I could tell, and who was closer to you to contradict me? – you seemed to have that nut cracked in a way I have yet to.

But then, another line sticks out, one that reminds us that there is more to life than just the years we have here on earth. Indeed, there had better be, if there’s to be justice to existence.

Now you can choose to disagree
but one thing is very clear
We’d all be pretty depressed
if we got to heaven and it was just like here

“Modern Myth,” by Randy Stonehill, from Celebrate this Heartbeat (1985)

“I am the Dance, and I still go on.”

Even as finite humans, unable to comprehend the concept of eternity (while ironically, at the same time, often unable to grasp that whatever we’re experiencing in any given moment is likely to end any time soon), know that there is more than this life. Like Jesus, we still go on. You know this better than I at the moment, as you’re in His presence in eternity; why, for all I know, you’re confirming that He smiles, laughs and dances, as you join with Him in that celebration, waiting for me and however many other guests are expected to attend the wedding supper of the Lamb – I’d apologize, but there is such a thing as being ‘fashionably late’ to a party; let’s just say that’s what I and these others are doing, and leave it at that.

But even as the party gains steam where you are, those of us down here also ‘still go on,’ dealing with the daily business of life, seeing as we’ve been left here yet, presumably for a reason. Just as it’s left to us to determine how to choose joy, we also are required to discover and serve that purpose which we’ve been assigned to. Here’s hoping I can do both of those things today.

With all that being said, honey, keep an eye on me today, and wish me luck; I’m going to need it.