Wild, wicked, and fierce...

We had such a wild, wicked, and fierce windstorm yesterday that my beloved old grill was knocked over.  I was so surprised to see it blocking the back door when I left to fetch the migraine medication.  I am wondering if this was a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence or if I need to somehow anchor the grill to the new railing.

I did wonder, seeing the grill on the porch floor and the back porch recycling bin blown over to the side fence, if I had not repaired the porch this fall if it would have been the thing blown over in the storm.  Interestingly enough, the steamer lounger and the wine crate that are up against the house on the airing porch had moved not an inch.

In the wee hours of the morning, I finally felt that post-migraine weakness/tremulous/fragility leave.  I was able to fall asleep and, through many dreams and wakes to fetch fresh ice packs, I slept until 5:45 this evening.  I've eaten.  Amos has eaten.  I am really ready to go back to sleep.

Only.

Only I am trying very hard to stop weeping for my pastor managed to find my bible!  I have been lecturing myself about trying to remain calm, because even good stress can cause migraines.  I am not ... succeeding.  SIGH.

On the upside, that wild, wicked, and fierce windstorm meant that I had a lengthy, rich large pipe wind chime concert all day and all night.  It was truly magnificent.  And comforting.

Whilst I was trying to remain calm and relaxed and heated (neck and shoulders) yesterday to prevent a bounce back migraine, I read more of Michael Card's commentary on Luke.  Starting at the beginning each time I sit down to read further certainly has its benefits, for I keep catching things I've missed.  Often, those are bits that remind me of the commentaries on Mark and on Matthew.  And it has made me appreciate all three more and more.

Two thoughts came to mind:

First, as I have written Mark is the testimony that dives right in and races toward the crucifixion.  Mark's Jesus is focused on the gifts He has come to bring and to the preparation of His disciples for the ministry they will continue.  Mark's Jesus is truly Christ crucified for you.  Luke's Jesus, what I know of Him through 10 chapters, now, is Jesus Hesed for you.  The very detail that is so perfectly lacking in Mark, the detail that you do not need in that testimony, is so perfectly present in Luke, the detail that illuminates the intimate and gentle care and mercy Christ has for God's created.

Second, in Luke chapter 7, John the Baptist, sitting in prison, sends his disciples to Jesus to ask an interesting question:  "Are You the One who is to come, or should we look for someone else?"  Now, I've read the commentary on this before (at the moment not remembering if it is in Mark or Matthew) and, thus, remembered that Jesus does not answer "Yes!" with words but with the Word, with Scripture.  He essentially tells John's disciples to report back what they have seen:  prophesy fulfilled.

Now, Matthew, being the Jewish Gospel and the one most themed with fulfillment, is probably where the other commentary is.  However, it is not that theme (fulfillment) that is on my mind.  Nor, really, is it one of the prevalent themes in Luke:  Those who should, don't and those you wouldn't expect, do.  I mean, John's question fits that.  He, of all people, should believe.  And yet, what hit me, was the doubt that laced that question.  Seriously, John baptized Jesus and HEARD God declare Him to be His Son and SAW the Holy Spirit descend upon Jesus.

If you think about what John saw and heard and experienced, his question of doubt is near mind-boggling.  But ... but there he was.  John the Baptist.  The forerunner to the Messiah.  The baptizer of the Messiah.  The one who leapt in his mother's womb before the Messiah, who was not Himself yet born.  That John was sitting in prison, sitting in the prison of a truly evil and depraved man.  If you think about about (and your name is Myrtle), you begin to realize that it was not just the Jews and the Pharisees who found Jesus to be a Messiah who did not meet their expectations.  It seems that John was thinking—at least when he voiced that question—Maybe what I heard and saw wasn't real, for certainly the Messiah wouldn't leave me to suffer and rot in jail, right?  Not me.  Not the one who prepared the way for His coming.  Surely not me.

And, it struck me, was not John's doubt just as great as Thomas'?  Why was John not nicknamed Doubting John?

It was that thought that I re-read the commentary for Luke 7:18-35:

We have been traveling through the part of Luke's narrative that highlights the unorthodoxy of Jesus' ministry.  The story of doubting John reinforces the truth that Jesus failed to meet everyone's expectations, even those of the man who knew him from the womb.

So unorthodox is this kingdom that John himself almost misses it!  He has landed in prison, hardly where he expected to be as herald of the Messiah.  While he sits in Herod's prison, he hears of all the wonderful things Jesus is doing.  In verses 18-23 of Luke 7, John sends two of his disciples with an amazing question, considering its source.  John, who has heard the voice of God, who first proclaimed Jesus as the Lamb of God (Jn 1:29-35), asks, "Are you the Messiah, or should we look for someone else?"  It is the most remarkable question in the Gospels.

From his cell, John is unable to see the precious glimpses of the radical, unorthodox kingdom that is entering history with the presence of Jesus.  In his mind this kingdom is about the Messiah overcoming the Romans, and fighting fire with fire.  Never could he have dreamed of a kingdom in which the King dies for the enemies he loves.  Not in his wildest dreams could John, the dreamer, have imagined a kingdom where the fire of hate would be conquered by the living water of love.

Jesus, who has been in some sense slighted by his cousin John, does not respond in kind.  He sounds very straightforward.  He tells John's messengers to go back and report to John that every prophetic sign connected to the coming of the Messiah is finding fulfillment.  The blind see and the deaf hear. The lame are leaping like deer (Is 35:5-6)/

When I imagine it, the messengers have already turned to report back to John when Jesus calls out to them, essentially, "Tell John, blessed is he who is not offended by me."  How remarkable that Jesus responds with a berakah to John's doubt.  But is that not what we are coming to expect from the One who commanded us to love our enemies?

After John's people leave, Jesus displays more of his graciousness.  He tells the crowd what a remarkable person John is.  In the words of Malachi, Jesus affirms that he is indeed God's unique messenger.  In fact, says Jesus, there is no one alive who is greater than John!  The second half of Jesus' final statement on John is an introduction to the next scene in chapter 7: "but the least in the kingdom of God is greater than he."

The next image is a small window into the "least" Jesus just spoke of.  It is a holy parenthesis.  All the people, including the lowest of the low (i.e., the tax collectors), acknowledged God's way of righteousness and acknowledged the wisdom of the sermon they had heard not so long ago that spoke of loving their enemies and of a God who was kind to the ungrateful and the wicked.  They were in a position to acknowledge this precisely because John the Baptist had faithfully performed in their lives the miracle of waking their consciences.  John had baptized all of them, at least all of the whose who were able to understand what Jesus was talking about.  But the Pharisees and experts in the law could not understand that God's way was right because repentance had no place in their lives.

Glancing in their direction, Jesus tries to put them in perspective for his disciples.  "They are just like children," he says with a sad twinkle in his eye.  "They wanted us to dance to their tune.  They thought we would weep to their sad songs.  But John and I don't dance."

If you read through the commentary, you will see just how much stuck with me, even with my forgetting, in that the thought I had about the wildness of John's question of doubt was exactly what Michael Card points out.

I liked the ending of this section, for it called to mind a song from my evangelical past:  Glancing in their direction, Jesus tries to put them in perspective for his disciples.  "They are just like children," he says with a sad twinkle in his eye.  "They wanted us to dance to their tune.  They thought we would weep to their sad songs.  But John and I don't dance."

Have you ever heard ... ever sung ... "Lord of the Dance"?

I danced in the morning when the world was young 

I danced in the moon and the stars and the sun 

I came down from heaven and I danced on the earth 

At Bethlehem I had my birth 

Dance, dance, wherever you may be 

I am the lord of the dance, said he 

And I lead you all, wherever you may be 

And I lead you all in the dance, said he 

I danced for the scribes and the Pharisees 

They wouldn't dance, they wouldn't follow me 

I danced for the fishermen James and John 

They came with me so the dance went on 

Dance, dance, wherever you may be 

I am the lord of the dance, said he 

And I lead you all, wherever you may be 

And I lead you all in the dance, said he 

I danced on the Sabbath and I cured the lame 

The holy people said it was a shame 

They ripped, they stripped, they hung me high 

Left me there on the cross to die 

Dance, dance, wherever you may be 

I am the lord of the dance, said he 

And I lead you all, wherever you may be 

And I lead you all in the dance, said he 

I danced on a Friday when the world turned black 

It's hard to dance with the devil on your back 

They buried my body, they thought I was gone 

But I am the dance, and the dance goes on 

Dance, dance, wherever you may be 

I am the lord of the dance, said he 

And I lead you all, wherever you may be 

And I lead you all in the dance, said he 

They cut me down and I leapt up high 

I am the life that will never, never die 

I'll live in you if you'll live in me 

I am the Lord of the dance, said he 

Dance, dance, wherever you may be 

I am the lord of the dance, said he 

And I lead you all, wherever you may be 

And I lead you all in the dance, said he

I thought of that paraphrase of Michael Card's, of Jesus saying that He and John did not dance to what the Pharisees and Scribes were playing.  And I thought of this song.  Then, being Myrtle, I looked up the definition of dance.  What struck me what that, originally, to dance was to follow a prescribed set of steps, to music of course.

Jesus was not the prescribed Messiah others wanted Him to be.  The steps He took in His ministry were not the steps laid out for Him through tradition and through the hundreds of laws created from the Law of God.  Jesus never said He was the Lord of the dance.  But dancing was not/is not outlawed or denigrated in the bible.  It actually denotes celebration and praise (Psalm 30:11, 149:3, 150:4; Ecclesiastes 3:4; Jeremiah 31:13).  If you think about it as steps to follow, the words of the hymn change.  They change even further if you consider the inspiration for its author.

"Lord of the Dance" was written in 1963 by Sydney Carter.  An English songwriter, he modeled it after the English Carol, "Tomorrow Shall Be My Dancing Day," which has Jesus speaking in the first person.  First recorded in 1833, the origins of the older hymn are not entirely clear, as there are several original arrangements of it.


Tomorrow shall be my dancing day;
I would my true love did so chance
To see the legend of my play,
To call my true love to my dance;

Sing, oh! my love, oh! my love, my love, my love,
This have I done for my true love.

Then was I born of a virgin pure,
Of her I took fleshly substance
Thus was I knit to man's nature
To call my true love to my dance.

Sing, oh! my love, oh! my love, my love, my love,
This have I done for my true love.

In a manger laid, and wrapped I was
So very poor, this was my chance
Between an ox and a silly poor ass
To call my true love to my dance.

Sing, oh! my love, oh! my love, my love, my love,
This have I done for my true love.

Then afterwards baptized I was;
The Holy Ghost on me did glance,
My Father’s voice heard I from above,
To call my true love to my dance.

Sing, oh! my love, oh! my love, my love, my love,
This have I done for my true love.

Into the desert I was led,
Where I fasted without substance;
The Devil bade me make stones my bread,
To have me break my true love's dance.

Sing, oh! my love, oh! my love, my love, my love,
This have I done for my true love.

The Jews on me they made great suit,
And with me made great variance,
Because they loved darkness rather than light,
To call my true love to my dance.

Sing, oh! my love, oh! my love, my love, my love,
This have I done for my true love.

For thirty pence Judas me sold,
His covetousness for to advance:
Mark whom I kiss, the same do hold!
The same is he shall lead the dance.

Sing, oh! my love, oh! my love, my love, my love,
This have I done for my true love.

Before Pilate the Jews me brought,
Where Barabbas had deliverance;
They scourged me and set me at nought,
Judged me to die to lead the dance.

Sing, oh! my love, oh! my love, my love, my love,
This have I done for my true love.

Then on the cross hanged I was,
Where a spear my heart did glance;
There issued forth both water and blood,
To call my true love to my dance.

Sing, oh! my love, oh! my love, my love, my love,
This have I done for my true love.

Then down to hell I took my way
For my true love's deliverance,
And rose again on the third day,
Up to my true love and the dance.

Sing, oh! my love, oh! my love, my love, my love,
This have I done for my true love.

Then up to heaven I did ascend,
Where now I dwell in sure substance
On the right hand of God, that man
May come unto the general dance.

Sing, oh! my love, oh! my love, my love, my love,
This have I done for my true love.


Carter has stated that Jesus was not his only inspiration.  He idea of Lord (of God) is a bit expansive or inclusive, such as Budda.  I think some folk I know who used to sing "Lord of the Dance" rather often in church might be a bit horrified to know that.  But, thinking about the Gospels, about the commentary, I think that those who read "dance" as skipping about the aisles of church have totally missed the point.

Missed the point of Jesus' coming to us.
Missed the point of receiving the gifts of Christ.
Missed the point of sharing the hesed, the mercy of God, with those in our lives.




Here is the original hymn in a church choir, with an organ.




Here it is again with a piano.




This is John McDermott's recording of Lord of the Dance.  I like it best, far more than how it was played (and how I sang it) in church for me.

You know, my "vision" of John the Baptist was this GREAT MAN who never doubted and who was always, always, always the proverbial suffering saint.  But he did doubt.  He doubted in such a large way as to send his disciples to Jesus to assuage his doubt.

And his fear.

I wonder ... what do you think a first person song of John the Baptist would be?  There are dozens of psalms that would speak his lament.  In fact, one of my very favorite, Psalm 77, might fit the bill.  But I wonder what a composer of songs might create to capture the mixture of John the Baptist's faith, the certitude and the doubt.

Really, we need to come up with a new nickname for Thomas.

Finally, in thinking about all this, could you not also say that Jesus' ministry was seen as wild, wicked, and fierce?