A synogogue needed help. They were in dire straights, and morale was low. They called a famous Rabbi to help them sort it out, to offer them insights and give them all the answers to the questions they were asking. On the evening the Rabbi visited the church, every pew was full, the congregation rapt, eager for wisdom and anticipated resolution.
As the Rabbi stood silent, the audience squirmed, puzzled and a little unnerved. Then the Rabbi began to sing, and to dance glad hearted and effervescent. The music filled the church and the dancing Rabbi made his way up the aisle, where he invited parishioners to join him. It wasn't long before every member of the congregation was dancing and the church walls reverberated with the spirit of the dance. All evening they danced. After, they sat, still intoxicated with the joy of dancing. And only then did the Rabbi speak, "I hope that I have provided all the answers to the questions you were asking."
Before we seek to manage life, maybe we should just live it.
Before we seek to analyze life, maybe we should just embrace it.
Before we seek to control life--nice and neat and tidy--maybe we should just dance.
Which all sounds good on paper, until you realize that you've finished the dance and still have no "answers." In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus said, "Blessed are the Poor in Spirit." Translated it would be "Blessed are the confused." That's just it; most of us aren't in a mood to be blessed that way.
One of my favorite stories is about a magazine ad sponsored by the Humane Society, looking for homes for homeless pets. A photo of a puppy and kitten--looking up at you from the page--catches your eye and your heart. But it's the affirmation on the top of the ad that sticks, "It's who owns them that makes them important."
Part of the conundrum is that we see any upheaval or disorder or disenchantment as an indictment. Why? Because we live in a world where we are owned by the need for perfection or arrival or tidiness or answers (including the right creed). It is no wonder we so easily get derailed. It's a mentality summed up in this sermon excerpt; a cleric (apparently speaking for sectarians universal) forewarned the congregation, "Everyone is created by God, but not everyone is a child of God!"
He couldn't be more wrong. And as long as there is a voice in us that trumpets this message of scarcity and deficiency, we miss the invitation of the Rabbi: inside of every one of us--whether broken or splintered or lost or disoriented--is the exquisite beauty of a dancer and the child of God.
I wish I could show you, when you are lonely or in darkness, the astonishing light of your own being. Hafiz
I spent Saturday with a group in north San Diego, talking about Intimacy. It reminded me that the older I get, the more clueless I become, especially about relationships. But that's not necessarily a bad thing. Rainer Maria Rilke (in "Letters to a Young Poet") writes to a young man: "Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart. And try to love the questions themselves. Do not seek the answers that cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now."
Or, as the Rabbi would say it, "Dance the questions now."
Gerhard Frost tells the story of an important businessman who was accustomed to having his own way. One day, late for an appointment, he decided to take a short cut and found himself thoroughly lost. He asked a little girl--the first person he saw--for directions. "Which way to Union Street?" he gruffly asked. "I don't know," the child responded, embarrassed. "Well then," the man demanded, "How far to Highway 41?" "I don't know that either." the child answered. The man's demeanor grew angrier as the girl continued to respond, "I don't know." Finally the man lost his temper and shouted, "You don't know much do you!" And she said, "No I don't, but then I'm not lost."
The Rabbi's invitation to dance, his gentle reminder to the congregation... that regardless of our confusion or conflict or messiness, we are not lost. There is inside of each of us, a dancer.
We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring, will be to arrive where we started, and know the place for the first time.
T.S. Eliot
What would it mean to live into that reality? Can you tell me the last time you were invited--given the permission, just like the members of the synagogue--to be vulnerable, curious, lighthearted, inquisitive, spontaneous, intuitive and playful? To be filled with wonderment and laughter? What would that look like? And if I invited you today, would you say yes?
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