Unorthodox and Unhinged

Tales of a Manic Christian


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Dancing with the Stars

The definitive scholar of liturgical dance ( of the divine kind) is none other than Kevin Bacon. Memorialized in the film Footloose, he makes his argument before the court:

People have danced since the beginning of time. People have danced in prayer. People have danced to bring down the rains and bring in the harvest. People danced before the hunt to bag big game for their tables.

Dance is the most ancient form of Jazzersize.

Dance is an expression of  the human spirit.

A full body celebration of the soul.

Everywhere.  Everyone. Dances.

Professor Bacon pulls out his Bible and turns to Psalm 149:

Hallelujah!

Sing to the Lord a new song; sing his praise in the congregation of the faithful.

Let Israel rejoice in his maker; let the children of Zion be joyful in their king.

Let them praise his name in the dance; let them sing praise to him with timbrel and harp.

And King David, the musical king (who supposedly wrote the psalms) dances his heart out before the ark – the prophet Samuel tells us  – before the golden throne of the Lord of Lords.

David and all the house of Israel were dancing before the Lord with all their might, with songs and lyres and harps and tambourines and castanets and cymbals… David danced before the Lord with all his might…And David and all the house of Israel brought up the ark of the Lord with shouting, with the sound of the trumpet…King David leaping and dancing before the Lord.

Michal, his wife was not too happy about all this dancing. She thought it unseemly. But thirty thousand of God’s chosen people tossed aside their inhibitions and threw themselves into it and danced with their king before the Lord.

A full body expression of unbounded joy, praising the Lord not just with your head but with your feet can make a body hungry.

After the dancing, they were famished.  They feasted on bread and meat and raisins. (Don’t forget the raisins.)

Now we Episcopalians are not prone to dancing in the aisles. We are known as the frozen chosen. In church we sit still. We are quiet. We speak only when we are spoken to. In the. beauty of the call-and-response liturgy of the Book of Common Prayer. (All the parts printed in BOLD.)

And I myself am not much of  a fan of modern liturgical dance. It can be done well but often it is baby boomer ladies like myself performing in tights. A sight better unseen. A performance not meant for audience participation.

David, on the other hand, gets EVERYONE up on their feet.

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So when was the last time you felt like dancing? When was the last time you actually danced? Weddings, of course, are one of the only places, grownups can still let it rip on the dance floor.

But where else?

What are those favorite tunes that set your toes to tapping?

(Click and take a listen.)

For those a decade or so ahead of me, maybe the classic crooner Frank Sinatra?

Come Dance with Me.

My very first dance record was a 45 – the Beatles Twist and ShoutThe dance for people who did not know how to dance. The dance for people with two left feet — but nonetheless pure silly joy on the dance floor.  No date. No problem. You could dance alone.  Or with a crowd.

But sometimes, I’m happy just to dance with YOUA friend, a partner. A budding relationship that blossoms into romance tete a tete. Maybe.

And even when hearts break, even when spirits crash, we can stretch our limbs and slow dance the sadness away. Like Emmy Lou Harris in A Tennessee Waltz.

And after working for our daily bread, exhausted from dancing through our day — two steps forward, three steps back, like Burt and Ernie we can Dance Ourselves to Sleep.

 (No need for Ambien!)

And you can dance because you’re good at it. Ballet. Tap. Modern. And you can dance because you’re proud of where you’re from. Salsa. Hula. Irish Step.

Sometimes your feet are just happy. Happy for any reason at all. And you can dance like it’s 1999. You can dance like no one is looking to songs with almost no words. Just Dance and Hum Along.

Because isn’t that what the world needs now – deep, authentic, unbridled joy?

Not to escape or bury our heads in the sand. We will not ignore the needs of a hurting world. Our prayers attest to the tenuous nature of the planet, the world, the nation, our neighborhood. All in need of healing.

But….

My Christian brothers and sisters, we are in the reconciliation business, the love your neighbor as yourself business.  We are in the faith, hope, and love business. The resurrection business.

And so that everybody may dance this dance of life — the dance of love — let’s let it rip and dance like Jesus, the Lord of the Dance.

I danced in the morning, when the world was begun.

And I danced in the moon, and the stars, and the sun,

And I came down from heaven and I danced on the earth.

At Bethlehem I had my birth.

Dance then wherever you may be.

I am the Lord of the Dance, said he.

And I’ll lead you all wherever you may be,

And I’ll lead you all in the dance, said he.

And I’ll lead you all in the dance, said he.

JoaniSign

 


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Naked in Public – or – Coming Out Crazy

 

Naked.

Buck naked.

Locker room naked.

Blame the nuns. Blame eleven years of parochial school. I have never been comfortable naked in the company of strangers. I can count on one hand the number of people in my entire lifetime who have seen me in my altogether. This includes my dear departed mother who changed my diapers:)

Catholic school can mess with your mind and create a crazy kind of modesty. The good sisters told us to put talcum powder in the bath water so we would not see our own naked selves. The water literally had to cover us up to our necks! I guess we were supposed to get undressed with our eyes closed.

So….

High school gym class, I never took a shower. Two years of softball practice, I never took a shower. Three years on the Immaculata basketball team, I never took a shower. Personal hygiene be damned, I never took a shower.

But…

Not because I was modest — because I was TERRIFIED. I was terrified of being exposed. Terrified of baring my bare self to the world. Terrified the world would know everything about me. Terrified of being naked in public.

I am still terrified. I am in the pool twice a week at my local rec center. The locker room is awash with naked ladies of every shape and size. A room full of naked ladies — totally comfortable and free as a breeze. Not me. I go into the “closet” and change my clothes. God forbid a neighbor sees me! God forbid a parishioner sees me! God forbid anybody — but me — sees me.

Totally exposed. Totally vulnerable. Totally out of control. Bare naked for all the world to see.

It is not easy for this bipolar soul to step out of the locker room closet. Those of us who are bipolar have to be very careful where we bare our souls. We have to be very, very careful coming out this particular closet.

Coming out — crazy.

Be careful how you come out. You risk being labeled, categorized, stigmatized, and marginalized. You risk condescension and discrimination. You risk being stereotyped and stuck in a box. You risk being hurt.

A friend– who should know better — told me not to risk it. No one will hire you. No church will call you. You will never be a rector. Maybe never even an associate again. Maybe not even a supply priest. Stay in the closet. Don’t come out. It’s way too risky.

So I didn’t. Instead I tried to educate, elucidate, and illuminate the IGNORANT and the INDIFFERENT with FACTS and FIGURES. Do you know 20% of the world walks around with a mental health issue? Do you know 50% of us will have a mental health issue in our lifetimes? Facts and figures are all well and good. But facts and figures alone make very little difference. Very little difference indeed.

So I took a risk.

I decided that I had to come out of this particular closet. Five years ago I came out to my boss. Three years ago on campus, I came out in the pulpit. Twice I have come out in public forums. I have come out – crazy — in four different parishes.

And in April of this year, I came out on Unorthodox & Unhinged. And with this post – in words — I have now come out 32 times.

Naked at work.

Naked at church.

Naked on the internet. FaceBooked. Tweeted.

And with this 32nd post, November 6, 2014, I come out in living color — totally exposed. Kristin Adair, a good friend and mental health advocate, is also a budding photo-journalist. Kristin asked if she could shadow me at work, at home, at church – to profile in pictures — a bipolar life.

Walking the dog, eating breakfast, watching TV, taking meds, hiking Huntley Meadows, blogging on my couch, celebrating the Eucharist.

In my pajamas. In my sweats. In my kitchen. In my bedroom.

Out of this crazy closet — naked for all the world to see.

(Just click the “play arrow” and you can see too!)

And the truth be told — naked — we all look pretty much look alike. Naked — we all have just have about everything in common. Exposed. Vulnerable. Shaking like a leaf — naked as the day we were born – we all look pretty much alike.

Now Adam and Eve tried to cover up with fig leaves. Naked and ashamed and cast out east of Eden. But biblically speaking — Adam and Eve got this naked thing all wrong. And biblically speaking, the flawed and famous King David — got it so, so right.

David paraded the Ark of the Covenant into the city he named for himself…. all the citizens “making merry before the Lord with all their might, with songs, and lyres and harps, and tambourines, and castanets, and cymbals…. David danced before the Lord with all his might… leaping and shouting”…naked as the day he was born….(2 Samuel 6,7)

Michal, his wife, was mortified. David, however, was glorified. Glorified by the God who chose him. Glorified by the God who loved him. Glorified by the God who created him – flaws and all – warts and all. Unashamedly, unabashedly loved him.

So friends, are you ready to get naked with me? Are you ready to get naked in public?

JoaniSign