This morning I said a prayer before we danced. In closing I said, "We dance in the name of God (insert spitting noise through your lips here) and we pray in the name of (insert spitting noise through your lips here)." Period. I thought it was a good start. I couldn't even say his name. Jesus, that is. When one lives in Colorado Springs, the word Jesus is hard to say. Or Christian. Christianity. Even, God. When I say
I go to a Christian Church, I whisper. If I even say it at all. I also qualify my Christian church,
First Congregational Church, in many amusing ways. Someone will ask me, "Oh, you go to church? Where?" And I say, "It is a Christian (whisper) church. But not really. It's different. "The senior minister," I say, "is really a young, hip, very funny guy from California. His wife is a dancer, from New York City (the hip and happening place)." I continue, "It is an open and affirming church, where ANYONE is welcome. It is very progressive, open-minded and liberal." I go on and on, while the person I am speaking to is yawning, thinking, "For God's sake, when is she going to stop." Basically, what I am trying to say to them is this, it is NOT one of those other churches. One of those closed-minded and hateful churches. So much for open-mindedness.
Today after I danced with
CommuniDance, we all sit in a circle and share one word that we are feeling. My heart began to race, I knew the word that was coming. It lay on my tongue like a spark waiting to ignite a fire. I told my heart, No, I can't say it. I can say words like Buddha, Kali, Goddess, Pagan, Earth, Spirit, Universe, even God. But...
Jesus. I mean, really. Is that what I am being called to do? The answer is, Yes. And I don't know why. I am the perfect candidate for this position, follower of Jesus. Because I didn't want it and don't even know what it means. This path is too hard here in Colorado Springs, too much baggage. What will people, my liberal, progressive, people, think of me?? As I sat holding hands with 30 men and women at CommuniDance, I said it. I said, Jesus. I didn't know why, I didn't know how, but I said it. And I didn't explode, people didn't throw stones. But I did feel real. I felt so naked that I had to check to make sure I was still wearing my clothing.
I drummed at the First Cong
Taize service yesterday. Taize is a community in east-central France, and they worship in very simple ways; using chants, scripture reading, and silence. All by the light of candles. In this service, I drummed with my djembe drum to the chanting, with a lyrical flute and clear piano playing nearby. I felt the expansiveness of God in my chest, in my stillness. Stillness is tough for me. I have to do many mental backflips, somersaults and twists to get there. And even then, I am not there. After my Gymnastics with God session, I ended up in Barnes and Noble with a friend. We were there to buy Bibles.
We were there to buy Bibles!?!?!?I was in tight black pants and a black sequined tank top, with high heels of course. My church attire. I decided I am not leaving my sexuality out this time with God. I know God can take it. So, I am standing with Jenny in the Bible aisle at Barnes and Noble. We are giggling like teenagers. It felt so new. We occasionally glanced to the aisle behind us for safety, to readings like,
The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, the Writings of Nietzsche or
Why Not to Be a Christian by Bertrand Russell. With a deep breath, I turned back to the Bible aisle. There were Bibles for teenagers, for men, and for women. Bibles made out of metal (seriously) and bibles with expensive leather covers. We were searching for the perfect Bible. Uhhhh, here I go again, searching for the perfect Bible, husband, children, home, family, body, job, the perfect ME. What did the perfect Bible look like? Old and worn, a "family Bible", as my friend Jenny put it. I knew what she meant. One that looked like I just pulled it out of Jerusalem, from some important holy person's hands. Jenny picked up a Bible with blue leather accents and held it up to her outfit of rainbow knee high socks, brown boots, and a hot pink tropical skirt and asked, "Does it match my outfit?" The nitty gritty of Bible shopping, I tell you. We both knew we had to do it this way. We had to go the round about way back to the Bible. As I said, it's loaded here in Colorado Springs. It's loaded here inside of me.
We left the book shop with a practical NSRV Bible, with a study guide to help us through the gigantic text and layered meanings. Part of my practice, is to open the Bible, choose a reading at random, or what I like to call, a reading chosen by God just for me. And I read it out loud, then I dance, and read it again. There is always something there for me. If I can sit for a few moments, or sometimes months, with the discomfort, confusion, disconnection, something rises up out of the messiness. These words are alive. Jesus is alive, my friends. Not a fancy key to an exclusive country club. But alive in each and everyone of us. He is the "walking feminine", as a friend told me. He is Love. The only way to bring love and wholeness, inclusiveness and vitality, to Christianity is
to bring it. To be it. And this takes truck loads of faith, pounds of grace and a whole lot of courage.
When I opened my book up last week, I opened it to Ezekial. And here is what I read out loud,
And her proud strength will come to an end. Tears streamed down my face when I read this, as I thought, why am I crying? What does this even mean? I do know this- it has something to do with me and my man, Jesus. Can I let my guard down enough to let in a living, breathing moving Jesus in? Can I do this in the midst of all of the baggage, words, laws, hate that are laid down in the name of Jesus? Can I open my heart to Christianity in a new way without knowing what that means? Yes, I can. And I am. Because I am laying my shield down. And I am slowly beginning to unhand the man Jesus, of all of the bags he never wanted. I can see his face peering out through the Samonsites, catching his breath, saying to us, Help me, let me out of here, let me breathe. It's just too damn hot in here. I don't need all of these bags. The only one I need and want is Love.
Okay, Jesus. Help me to lay my proud strength down. I pray today, when I close my prayer after the dance, I can say with trust and with faith, We dance in the name of God and we pray in the name of Jesus Christ; no spitting noises, no qualifying. Just standing naked and vulnerable, with Jesus holding my hand.
Sherry