August 10, 2025
Dance, Then, Wherever You May Be
2nd Samuel 6:14-22
Rev. David Germer
Our first text this morning is the text I’ll mostly be preaching from, which is why I’m reading; and it’s from the First Testament, which is why I’m reading it first. (Allison is going to read the New Testament text). The first passage is from 2nd Samuel, and it requires a bit of context.
1st and 2nd Samuel read like Game of Thrones – intrigue and back-room deals and dynasties at war, assassinations and double-crossings and infidelity as different groups and families and factions seek power over Israel. 1st Samuel is the story of the calling and rise of the priest and leader Samuel, the anointing of King Saul, and the surprising work of God in and through the boy David, as he becomes a man and grapples with the reality that he’s been chosen to succeed his boss, who is also his best friend’s dad, as ruler of Israel.
In chapter 5 of 2nd Samuel, with Saul dead, David takes the throne, is immediately tested in battle, and then his focus shifts to the Ark of the Covenant, containing the 10 Commandment tablets, given by God to Moses on Mt. Sinai centuries earlier. It’s been away from Jerusalem for decades, and David says: ‘now that I’m king, I want that back here.’
The Ark represents what scholar Walter Brueggemann calls the “dangerous and crucial presence of Yahweh in Israel and Yahweh’s solidarity with Israel.” (Yahweh is the Hebrew people’s name for God.) The ark embodies what is unifying among the tribes and clans of Israel and articulates for old Israel the holy rule of Yahweh. It carries and reminds them of their incredible history, with Yahweh… but it’s not just a piece of memorabilia that belongs in a museum. It’s almost like what the sacraments are, to us: an outward sign of what God has been and is doing, in and among God’s people. So, you can see why it’s so important to David to get it back home, where it belongs.
He goes to get it, and attempt #1 fails. It’s a great, confusing, terrifying, insightful story about the desire to control God, but it’s not our story, this morning. Ours picks up right after attempt #2, a few months later, which is successful. David has brought the ark home.
Listen for God’s Word.
David danced before the Lord with all his might; David was girded with a linen ephod [quick side note. A linen ephod is a priestly garment, worn by priests as they sought God’s guidance and acted as mediators between God and the people – it was a symbol of devotion and reverence]. So David and all the house of Israel brought up the ark of the Lord with shouting and with the sound of the trumpet.
As the ark of the Lord came into the city of David, Michal, daughter of Saul, [who was married to David] looked out of the window and saw King David leaping and dancing before the Lord, and she despised him in her heart.
They brought in the ark of the Lord and set it in its place, inside the tent that David had pitched for it, and David offered burnt offerings and offerings of well-being before the Lord. When David had finished offering the burnt offerings and the offerings of well-being, he blessed the people in the name of the Lord of hosts and distributed food among all the people, the whole multitude of Israel, both men and women, to each a cake of bread, a portion of meat, and a cake of raisins. Then all the people went back to their homes.
David returned to bless his household. But Michal the daughter of Saul came out to meet David and said, “How the king of Israel honored himself today, uncovering himself today before the eyes of his servants’ maids, as any vulgar fellow might shamelessly uncover himself!” David said to Michal, “It was before the Lord, who chose me in place of your father and all his household, to appoint me as prince over Israel, the people of the Lord—I will dance before the Lord. I will make myself yet more contemptible than this, and I will be humbled in my own eyes, but by the maids of whom you have spoken, by them I shall be held in honor.”
The grass withers, the flower fades, but the Word of our God will stand forever.
[Liturgist reads Matthew 11:16-19]
Jesus came eating, drinking, partying, and dancing.
My first sermon here, in January of 2022 (you all remember that, right?) was about this – the text was the wedding at Cana. I made the case, then, that there’s significance in Jesus’ first miracle, according to John, being turning water into wine – injecting life into a dead party, exemplifying his commitment to a life of joy.
This morning:
- I want to suggest that we are called to respond, in joy, to the goodness of God – and that that response is called “worship;”
- I want to suggest that worship in general, and dancing specifically, may well look silly, embarrassing, cringe – to those on the outside looking in… and so opting out makes a lot of sense;
- and I want to suggest that the act of dancing helps us visualize participation in worship and in the joyful life of Jesus…
That’s where I’m going. First, a little story. (And I need to say, I’m a little self-conscious, because this sermon feels more ‘me-centric’ than normal, and than I like and feel comfortable with. And there’s some irony there, because part of the sermon is about self-consciousness. But I needed to name that.) Here’s the story:
At the end of one of our evening worship services at the Montreat High School Youth Conference a couple weeks ago, we were given star words – a tradition we have here, connected with our Epiphany service, at the beginning of the year. The idea is to receive whatever God has for you, even if you don’t currently understand, or like it. So with the star words, “you get what you get, and you don’t throw a fit,” the leaders told us. I appreciate the idea. To be honest, I don’t remember the specific reasoning given for why we were receiving star words at this service; it seemed a little out of the blue.
Nor do I remember the word that was on the star I received. Or, I should say, the first star I received. I jokingly complained about whatever that word was, and an old friend of mine from TX – the Youth Ministry staff person for Mission Presbytery, all the years that I served as a youth leader in San Antonio, who’d given me my word – discretely slipped me a different, objectively superior word. (I truly don’t know if she hand-picked it for me, which is possible… or just reached into her supply and randomly pulled out this word): “Dance.”
Now I’m not a great dancer. I wouldn’t have said that “Dance,” or dancing, is a big part of my life. But I do LOVE dancing, particularly in the context of youth ministry, when I feel most ready to be and most purposeful in being absolutely willing to make a fool of myself.
Dancing IS a reasonably large part of the Montreat Youth Conference experience.
- For one: all conference participants dance every morning, to energizers (are you familiar?) We’ve taught some at Church-wide retreats, and I know that some of you secretly love them. They have simple, repeatable dance moves set to up-beat songs, to get everyone moving.
- For another there’s always at least one massive full-group dance – on the lawn or in the barn, often DJ-ed by DJ5 aka Bill Buchanan… and I appreciate that our youth appreciate (or at least tolerate) that I’d prefer to share in the fun, on the floor, rather than simply watch it from the sidelines.
- You also may know that our group has a reputation, which we carry with some pride, as the group that choreographs and dances to a new song every year during the Variety Show. This year it was ‘Popular,’ from Wicked, and this year the youth welcomed all three adult leaders – Laura Traylor, Elaine Croft and me – into the production. This has become such a significant part of our time together, at Montreat.
So the instant I saw my new word – Dance – I embraced it as meant to be… almost as though it was the first and only word I received.
And then the next morning, I read these words, in an email, from Patrick: “I’ve needed to make some changes to the preaching schedule for the rest of the year. I can explain better in person, but the relevant piece for now is that you’re preaching on August 10th. The hymn is I Danced in the Morning.
I mean, come on! How perfect is that?
We’ll sing it in just a bit, but do you know this song? We have just a couple Sundays left in our summer sermon series, “How Can I Keep from Singing,” looking at and singing songs chosen by the congregation.
I Danced in the Morning was written by Sydney Carter in 1963 and set to the tune of and American Shaker melody; in its five playful verses it tells the story of the life of Jesus, from his perspective… through the lens of Christ as Lord of the Dance. Jesus “came dancing,” we might say, and throughout his life he is inviting us to join in; an invitation refused by some, angering others, and compelling the most aggrieved to try to put an end to the dance, altogether… which of course, doesn’t work.
The invitation that is the chorus – “Dance then, wherever you may be”, is an invitation for us to see Jesus’ joy in every facet of our lives; to use his joy as a tuning fork, by which to orient or tune our lives; to fashion our lives into the shape of Jesus’ joyful dance.
It’s an invitation that, in our text, David accepts, mightily.
David lived a life of adventure, danger, and radical trust in Yahweh. Things haven’t always gone his way, but he’s seen, again and again, that Yahweh is present, in control, and ultimately, good. And so when this idea comes to him, soon after he’s anointed as king, to give the people a unifying act and witness of Yahweh’s holy presence… he’s caught up in the mystery and glory of this mission. Eugene Peterson notes that “when we’re going about our work responsibly and steadily, we walk. When we’re carrying out religious duties or conducting a political ceremony” (which the retrieval of the ark certainly is, in some sense), “we process, solemnly. But when we’re beside ourselves with love, charged with excess of meaning, shaken out of preoccupation with ourselves, we worship. We dance.”
There’s a children’s book that I think might be the best children’s book ever written, that expresses this so profoundly that I considered reading the entire thing to you. It’s called “The Pirate Who Tried to Capture the Moon.” I don’t want to summarize it for you because it would rob you of the experience of reading or hearing the story, but I did just decide (and got permission from Shannon) to read this to the Intergenerational Faith Formation class next Sunday. It beautifully illustrates that last line of Peterson’s:
“When we’re beside ourselves with love, charged with excess of meaning, shaken out of preoccupation with ourselves, we worship. We dance.”
So what does it look like for us to be beside ourselves with love? To respond to the living God, by worshipping? To be open to the life of God flowing around and through us?
Well. We’re told what it doesn’t look like.
Michal opts out – a bit like the prodigal son’s older brother at the end of that parable of Jesus, when the feast is thrown for the son who’s returned. The text is almost begging us to hate and judge Michal as this stuffy stick-in-the-mud, in contrast to this approving, giggly gaggle of servant girls who David somewhat oddly makes a point of mentioning have no problem with his dancing… but let’s not assume we’re above or immune from Michal’s more distanced response.
My friend Lita may have given me the word “dance,” on purpose, because she might remember that dancing has always a big part of my youth ministry experiences. For me, on some level, that’s because dancing is, in some sense, a tangible act of resistance to the desire to be (and as importantly to look) cool, which sadly doesn’t disappear when one ages out of youthfulness, but is certainly at its peak, there and then. That was true when I was a kid, but I fear it may now be worse, and here’s why:
In some circles, there are few things worse than being a “try hard,” or “cringe” or “goofy ahh” or a “stan” or a “simp.”
(Don’t worry if you don’t know what all those words mean. The youth do. I’ll use one in a sentence: there’s nothing more cringe than me standing up here, using all those words.) They all get at this idea of someone who looks or acts differently, or foolishly, in a way that is embarrassing to others.
What’s elevated today, instead is the opposite. You want to be “just a chill guy” – uninvested, unphased. Don’t be caught sweating, putting yourself out there, being awkward or weird.
What David is doing here, when he gets back from his trip, successfully bringing home the ark, could be described with all those negative things – he dances before the Lord with all his might – he’s passionate and wholly committed – we could say he is a “stan” of God, a “simp” for the Lord, and he looks, his wife points out to him with shame and disdain, ridiculous. She has not been shaken out of preoccupation with herself.
Dancing is a thousand opportunities a minute to feel self-conscious and foolish, OR to turn off the self-preoccupation, knowing nobody else is watching you… because they are all either too worried about people watching them or too free to care.
David is too free to care. He knew what the early church father Iraneus would articulate a thousand years later: “The glory of God is a human fully alive.”
David is not limiting himself to a partial experience of life, or of what Yahweh is and has for him, out of fear or worry about how he’ll look. He dances; he sacrifices elaborately; he feeds multitudes; the people feast… because they are remembering and seeing anew: Yahweh has not abandoned and will not abandon them. Yahweh is present, right there, with them. Theirs is an extravagant response, to an extravagant act: Yahweh’s self-giving (in this case exemplified through the ark) to David and to Israel, at this key turning point in their existence.
Our very act of worship, today – right now, every week – is exactly this: a celebration of the recognition of God’s self-giving (now exemplified as Jesus) to us.
Here’s how Walter Brueggemann puts it:
“The community is without restraint in its gratitude for the self-giving and the presence of God. Everyone has cause to rejoice, because life has started again. David embodies and legitimates the gratitude of his people.”
And that last line is key. David is doing this, on behalf of the people; that’s why he wore the priestly linen ephod.
His expression is a natural outflow and response… but if you’re squirming and feeling nervous because you don’t worship by dancing – that is ok! There are other ways to give yourself over to this unrestrained life of joy, in response. Maybe the natural outflow for you – where you feel free and uninhibited to respond to the knowledge and truth of God’s presence and goodness is singing, or baking or knitting, or running or gardening, or listening to a friend or neighbor with all the attentiveness and presence worthy of that image-bearer of God. The primary questions is: where and when and how do you respond with complete freedom and unselfconsciousness, without restraint, in celebration of what God has done?
How, in short, do you worship? Because dancing, in this text, is a metaphor for worshipping, which we are all called, and invited to do, mightily, before the Lord.
It might not be literal dancing. But then again… it might.
So I’m going to invite some youth up, and they are going to invite you to dance. But they’ll teach you, first. Youth, come on up, and let’s do an energizer together.
[Congregational energizer to “Wavin’ Flag”]