Amos 7:7–9, 12-15
This is what he showed me: the LORD was standing beside a wall built with a plumb line, with a plumb line in his hand. And the LORD said to me, "Amos, what do you see?" And I said, "A plumb line." Then the LORD said, "See, I am setting a plumb line in the midst of my people Israel; I will never again pass them by; the high places of Isaac shall be made desolate, and the sanctuaries of Israel shall be laid waste, and I will rise against the house of Jeroboam with the sword." And Amaziah said to Amos, "O seer, go, flee away to the land of Judah, earn your bread there, and prophesy there; but never again prophesy at Bethel, for it is the king's sanctuary, and it is a temple of the kingdom." Then Amos answered Amaziah, "I am no prophet, nor a prophet's son; but I am a herdsman, and a dresser of sycamore trees, and the LORD took me from following the flock, and the LORD said to me, 'Go, prophesy to my people Israel.'
Ephesians 1:3–14
Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, just as he chose us in Christ before the foundation of the world to be holy and blameless before him in love. He destined us for adoption as his children through Jesus Christ, according to the good pleasure of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace that he freely bestowed on us in the Beloved. In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace that he lavished on us. With all wisdom and insight he has made known to us the mystery of his will, according to his good pleasure that he set forth in Christ, as a plan for the fullness of time, to gather up all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth. In Christ we have also obtained an inheritance, having been destined according to the purpose of him who accomplishes all things according to his counsel and will, so that we, who were the first to set our hope on Christ, might live for the praise of his glory. In him you also, when you had heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and had believed in him, were marked with the seal of the promised Holy Spirit; this is the pledge of our inheritance toward redemption as God's own people, to the praise of his glory.
Mark 6:14–29
King Herod heard of it, for Jesus' name had become known. Some were saying, "John the baptizer has been raised from the dead; and for this reason these powers are at work in him." But others said, "It is Elijah." And others said, "It is a prophet, like one of the prophets of old." But when Herod heard of it, he said, "John, whom I beheaded, has been raised."
For Herod himself had sent men who arrested John, bound him, and put him in prison on account of Herodias, his brother Philip's wife, because Herod had married her. For John had been telling Herod, "It is not lawful for you to have your brother's wife." And Herodias had a grudge against him, and wanted to kill him. But she could not, for Herod feared John, knowing that he was a righteous and holy man, and he protected him. When he heard him, he was greatly perplexed; and yet he liked to listen to him. But an opportunity came when Herod on his birthday gave a banquet for his courtiers and officers and for the leaders of Galilee. When his daughter Herodias came in and danced, she pleased Herod and his guests; and the king said to the girl, "Ask me for whatever you wish, and I will give it." And he solemnly swore to her, "Whatever you ask me, I will give you, even half of my kingdom." She went out and said to her mother, "What should I ask for?" She replied, "The head of John the baptizer." Immediately she rushed back to the king and requested, "I want you to give me at once the head of John the Baptist on a platter." The king was deeply grieved; yet out of regard for his oaths and for the guests, he did not want to refuse her. Immediately the king sent a soldier of the guard with orders to bring John's head. He went and beheaded him in the prison, brought his head on a platter, and gave it to the girl. Then the girl gave it to her mother. When his disciples heard about it, they came and took his body, and laid it in a tomb.
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One of the more interesting (and embarrassing) features of each night’s mass gathering at the ELCA Youth Gathering last month was the nightly “dance move of the day.”
Each night, 31,000 of us would watch a short instructional video led by young people from across the world who would teach us a series of dance steps native to their country. I was pretty good at the Hungarian folk dance. Not so great at the other ones. Here’s a little video proof of that:
But even despite my poor dance skills, I’m still thrilled that our time in Houston was filled with dancing. Each night, students forming conga lines on the floor of the NRG stadium while singing praise songs, students standing up from their seats to learn hand motions for songs old and new, students crowding the stage and dancing along to the featured bands and performers who shared their gifts with us each night. One night, our gathering began with a colorful set of dances presented by a local Mexican-heritage dance troupe. Most evenings, a group of interpretive dances would perform alongside our singing, giving us a visual experience of the words of faith that rose on our lips.
Sunday morning, our worship began with a Thanksgiving for Baptism. From the back corner of the stadium, a single dancer, in a twirly blue dress, danced like water across the floor, spinning and leaping her way toward the font, offering her graceful movements to us and to God, evoking all of the beauty and fluidity of the spirit-filled waters in which we are baptized, claimed, washed, saved.
There is dancing all over the Bible, of course, from Miriam - taking a tambourine and leading the Israelites in a song and dance of praise after passing through the Red Sea into freedom and witnessing Pharaoh’s defeat - to David - dancing nearly-naked before the Lord when the Ark of the Covenant arrived in Jerusalem. The Psalms repeatedly urge us toward music and dancing in praise of God’s faithfulness.
And then we have this peculiar episode in Mark’s gospel today, where a talented young girl dances before a king, and somehow ends up caught in the middle of a vindictive and opportunistic plot to execute John the Baptist.
The story goes something like this:
Herod, the sitting king of occupied Galilee, throws himself a birthday party. He invites all the usual powerful dignitaries and members of his court to a fantastic feast, exactly what you would expect of a king who wants to celebrate himself in grand fashion while also feeding the good favor of his most powerful advisors and constituents.
Herod is married to a woman called Herodius, and their marriage is quite the scandal, because, you see, Herodius is also currently married to Herod’s brother Philip. The law says plainly that you can’t marry your brother’s wife (unless she is widowed).
In the Bible, God raises up prophets to speak difficult truths to those in power. In our reading from Amos today, God uses the image of a plumb line to illustrate the work of the prophet: to call leaders and nations back to the standards that God has set before them, standards that reflect God’s justice, mercy, and compassion.
So John the Baptist holds up the plumb line and calls foul on Herod and Herodius’s romance. This makes Herodius exceedingly angry - and why wouldn’t it? Here she is, having upgraded her lifestyle from that of the king’s sister-in-law to that of the queen. And now John wants to undo all of that? No way. Herodius is so angry that she wants to have John killed, but it isn’t in her power to make it happen, so she settles for letting Herod throw him in prison. Herod, mind you, generally likes the guy, and is fascinated, if not also perplexed, by his teachings.
Anyway, back to the party.
Music plays, everybody eats their fill, they drink a little too much. Late in the evening, Herod’s niece-turned-step-daughter, a girl of about twelve years old or so, performs a dance for the crowd, pretty similar to the way that you might invite your kid or grandkid to play a short piano piece at a dinner party, to show them off a little bit, you know?
So she dances. It’s lovely.
Herod, being powerful, drunk, and stupid, is so proud and pleased that he makes the girl a promise: I’ll give you anything your heart desires, even half my kingdom if you want it! And before he knows what is happening, the girl has consulted with her mother, and comes back to Herod asking not for half his kingdom, but for John’s head.
Herod is grieved, we read, but considers himself trapped. He doesn’t want to disappoint his guests. He doesn’t want to endure the shame of breaking an oath, even though he should have known better than to swear this foolish oath in the first place. He doesn’t want to turn against his wife. So he raises up his hand to signal the guards, and John is executed, and Herodias gets exactly what she wants, and Herod is so cowardly or ashamed or unwilling to take a break from his birthday festivities that he can’t even finish his own dirty work, and so he leaves a twelve-year-old ballerina to pick up the platter across the table and carry it back to her mother.
Which makes me wonder…who is really the dancer in this story? Because it seems to me that Herod is doing an awful lot of dancing here.
He dances around his own moral center and his own moral responsibilities in order to please and appease everybody else, for the sake of his own pleasure and self-preservation. He dances like a trained animal or puppet on a string to save face in front of his donors and constituents and advisors and skeptics. It’s like Herod believes that everybody around him expects him to dance to their tune, and he’s so insecure and afraid of losing his power or his popularity that jumps to his feet without giving it a second thought.
What a contrast we have here.
Miriam danced in gratitude.
David danced in joy.
The Psalmist danced in praise.
Herodius’s daughter danced in exhilaration.
But Herod danced in fear.
We dance in fear, too. We are afraid of what will happen if we fall out of step with those whose opinions of us seem to matter the most. We are afraid of what will happen if we improvise outside the boundaries of what is easy or popular. We are afraid of stumbling over our feet if we break from the pack or if we have a change of heart. We are afraid of what will happen if we plant our feet and take a stand for mercy instead of retribution, welcome instead of division, justice instead of self-interest, generosity instead of greed.
And so we stick to the established choreography because we are afraid of what we will lose if we groove to a new beat, even if it is God’s very self whose rhythm is beating away in our hearts.
There are some folks, youth and adults alike, who are frustrated and angry coming home from this Youth Gathering. Because the Gathering didn’t do the “people of faith can agree to disagree and we want to keep everybody happy and safe” two-step. The Gathering didn’t dance around hard issues. We talked frankly about racism and sexism, abuse and addiction, homophobia and immigration and hunger. We answered the calling to dance our faith in public for the sake of the world. Because just as God shows grace to us in our brokenness, God also shows grace to our world, too. Whether we like it or not.
And is this not the best of all good news, that we overflow with the gifts and glory of God? Paul, in his letter to the Ephesians, reminds us that we are already claimed and adopted by God as his children. We are inheritors of all the riches of God’s kingdom. We have the fullness of forgiveness and redemption in Christ. We have the assurance of our salvation from before we ever took our first breath. We have grace before we could think to ask for it. We have everything we need and we have nothing to lose. We don’t have to dance for God’s favor and we don’t have to dance for anybody else’s favor, either.
For Christ has set us free from all of the strings and the strivings of this world. Every failure, every rejection, every fear - Christ took these into his own body so that weakness might become strength, loss might become gain, and death might become life. In rising from the dead, Christ has defeated the final enemy of death, and reconciled all of this life’s little deaths along the way. We are free to dance on our graves. We have nothing left to fear.
And so we are free to dance like Miriam and David, in gratitude and joy. We are free to dance for the sake of our neighbors in need. We are free to dance God’s kingdom of justice and mercy into being.
What is the dance that God has put on your heart?
A dance of sheer praise for all of God’s goodness and grace?
A dance of stewardship to share God’s blessings with others?
An open-armed dance of welcome embracing all of God’s beloved and broken and beautiful children?
A dance of kindness for those who grieve?
A dance of resistance against evils of racism or greed or abuse or cruelty?
Even if you think you have two left feet…hear this good news: You are loved by God and you are blessed with grace and God has put a melody in your heart. Dance freely, my friends, without fear or without shame. Be blessed in your dancing, and hear blessing now in these closing words from the Spanish mystic Teresa of Avila:
May today there be peace within. May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be. May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.
May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you. May you be content knowing you are a child of God. Let this presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love. It is there for each and every one of us.
Amen.
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