Do the Dance

Scripture: Psalm 100, “A Psalm of Thanksgiving”

"Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth. Worship the Lord with gladness; come into God’s presence with singing. Know that the Lord is God. It is God that made us, and we are God’s; we are God’s people, and the sheep of God’s pasture. Enter God’s gates with thanksgiving, and God’s courts with praise. Give thanks to God, bless God’s name. For the Lord is good; the Lord’s steadfast love endures forever, and the Lord’s faithfulness endures to all generations."

The eighth chapter of the gospel of Matthew begins with a miracle:

"When Jesus had come down from the mountain, great crowds followed him; and there was a leper who came to him and knelt before him, saying, ‘Lord, if you choose, you can make me clean.’ Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him, saying, ‘I do choose. Be made clean!’ Immediately, his leprosy was cleansed. (Matthew 8:1-3)"

This story says a great deal in three short verses. Of course, it says important things about Jesus and about his authority and compassion. But this story also tells us a lot about the man who came to Jesus and bowed down before him.

We know this man had courage and perseverance: he thrust himself into the “great crowds” of people who shunned him because of his leprosy; and he worked his way through that throng to the very feet of Christ.

We know this man had humility: he knelt before Christ and demanded nothing but instead offered a simple confession of faith.

We know this man believed in the power and grace of Jesus: he said as much to the One he knew could look beyond his words and into his heart.

And, of course, we know this man was cleansed and healed.

But there is something we do not know, something the story does not tell us. We do not know what this man did or said when he discovered Jesus had healed him. The story describes his miraculous return to physical health and, thereby, to his community and family, but says nothing at all about his response to this amazing event.

This posed a serious problem for a film director who, in the late nineteen-nineties, set out to make a movie version of the gospel of Matthew that included no words except those that literally appear in the text of the New International Version. Of course, the director could not put words of thanks or praise into the man’s mouth the gospel does not record. Nor could the director finish the scene by having the man walk off as if nothing – let alone nothing astonishing – had happened.

So, as often occurs in our reading of the gospels, the director had to resort to his imagination and his understanding of human nature and come up with something that seemed plausible – but did not contradict what the text does tell us. In my view, the director had a stroke of genius.

The scene closes like this. Jesus reaches out and touches the man, who is enveloped in sack cloth. Slowly the sack cloth is pulled away to reveal the smiling face of someone who bears none of the sores or scars of leprosy. The man begins to laugh, and Jesus laughs with him. The laughter grows, and the man throws himself onto Jesus in a full embrace. They fall to the ground together, rolling in the dirt, celebrating the miracle. It is an expression of thanksgiving that surpasses the capacity of language.

In a book he wrote about portraying Jesus in this film, actor Bruce Marciano recalls a controversy that surrounded the scene when the movie first came out. He notes that some people did not think the scene sufficiently reverent. The image of the healed man tackling Jesus and of them falling onto the ground in joyful abandon offended their sense of propriety. I guess I see their point, and I acknowledge that the director’s vision challenges our assumptions and expectations. But I want to suggest that we may have some assumptions and expectations about the nature of thankfulness that could use a little friendly challenging.

Certainly, in our relationship with God we often feel a thankfulness that is deep and quiet. We may experience this most keenly in those moments when God’s presence in our lives shows itself in some unexpected and unmistakable way. When this happens we may find ourselves on our knees, with our heads bowed, silenced in wondrous gratitude. In this connection, it may be worth remembering that the word “gratitude” has a close relationship with the word “grace.” Indeed, as a matter of linguistics, gratitude comes from grace. Perhaps this holds true as a matter of theology as well.

I’ve noticed that there can be a fair amount of this solemn thankfulness during the Thanksgiving holiday. Everyone’s having a perfectly good time until somebody says “and now let us all be thankful.” In response, we get very still and respectful and we lower our heads and we recite our blessings in hushed tones. I don’t mean to make light of this. The reverential voice of thankfulness has a calm beauty to it and has an important place in our faith.

But thankfulness has many voices. Surely, it can have the soft voice that whispers gratitude. But it can also have a voice that sings – and sings loudly. It can have a voice that laughs. It can have a voice that cheers. It can have a voice that celebrates. It can have a voice that calls us to dance.

We hear this voice of joyful thanks over and over again throughout the Bible. In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul says “[s]peak to yourselves in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody in your heart to the Lord. Give thanks always for all things to God and the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.” Paul has it exactly right; it is in the Psalms that this voice of celebratory gratitude comes through most clearly and irresistibly.

So our text for today, Psalm 100, calls us to “[m]ake a joyful noise to the Lord, [to] [w]orship the Lord with gladness, [and to] come into God’s presence with singing.” Psalm 79 declares “[w]e your people and sheep of your pasture will give you thanks forever; we will show forth your praise to all generations.” Psalm 92 exclaims “you, Lord, have made me glad through your work. I will triumph in the works of your hands.” And, in words that seem remarkably descriptive of the film scene between Jesus and the leper, Psalm 30 cries exuberantly “[y]ou have turned my mourning into dancing; you have put off my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness; to the end that my glory may sing praise to you, and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever.”

Of course, we are made in God’s image and so it should not surprise us to find passages in the Bible where God, too, seems to exhibit joy and thankfulness. Indeed, Jesus tells us a story about just such an occasion. You all know it. A man had two sons, and one wandered away and wasted his life. And when the prodigal son returned, the father felt such deep thankfulness that he threw the entire household into an extravagant celebration. When that child came home, he turned his father’s “mourning into dancing.” And so it is when we come home as well.

In a recent popular movie, actor Steve Carell plays Evan Baxter, an ambitious junior congressman who gets elected on the campaign promise that he’ll change the world. Morgan Freeman plays the role of God, who hears Evan’s promise and decides to offer him some guidance. Specifically, God orders Evan to build an ark, and helps him along by providing tools, wood, pairs of animals, and a book called “Ark Building for Dummies.”

Evan has a funny habit he displays from time to time throughout the film. Whenever things go well for him and he feels thankful and excited he declares that he has to “do the dance.” He then breaks into a series of moves that make everyone who’s watching him grin from ear to ear. Indeed, “the dance” has an infectious quality to it and people who are around Evan when he starts up tend to join along. In one particularly memorable scene, God and Evan share a moment of celebration that they close by agreeing to “do the dance.”

At the end of the film, God stares into the camera and holds up a stone tablet. He solemnly announces that he has added an eleventh commandment to the existing ten. The commandment, of course, is this: “Thou shalt do the dance.”

I think the film has great charm and some wonderful messages. I do, however, quibble with this aspect of its theology. You see, God does not need to add an eleventh commandment to tell us to “do the dance.” God has been telling us that all along. The idea that we should find the voice of joyful thankfulness is not a new one. It is thousands of years old. And it is as young and as fresh as ever.

Look around you life. See the blessing of friendship. And do the dance. See the blessing of family. And do the dance. See the blessing of a congregation devoted to serving the Lord. And do the dance. See the blessing of living in a community where people care about each other. And do the dance. See the blessing of citizenship in a country where we enjoy tremendous freedom. And do the dance.

Watch the leaves change color. And do the dance. Feel the cool fall wind on your face. And do the dance. See an elderly couple holding hands. And do the dance. Hear the sound of children’s laughter. And do the dance – and grab their hands and invite them to dance along. They will, you know.

In all things praise God. And in God’s name, and to God’s glory, and for God’s pleasure – do the dance.

“For the Lord is good; the Lord’s steadfast love endures forever; and the Lord’s faithfulness endures to all generations.”

Amen.