Lectionary reading: The SIXTH SUNDAY OF ORDINARY TIME - July 12, 2009

2 Samuel 6:1-5, 12b-19; Mark 6:14-29

When his daughter . . . 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."

DANCE WITH ME by Larry Patten

Oh, the ways I love the Bible!

Yes, I Corinthians 13 has been spoken at so many weddings that no one hears it anymore. Sure, I’ve personally overused Micah 6:8 for memorial services. And the so-called beatitudes of Matthew or Luke, oft quoted, seem as unique as the dandelions blooming in my backyard. Still, each of those passages contains sublime language, inherent truths to challenge individuals and communities. I can’t not read and re-read them.

Elijah’s adventures remain riveting. I wish people wouldn’t take Daniel or John’s Revelation so darn seriously, but oh my!, they paint fictional, faith-defying visions that are the kick in the pants any good religion needs. Even Jesus’ briefest parable dares me to look in the mirror.

My list is long.

I love the Bible for its grandeur, relevance, even irrelevance (Dear Mr. Leviticus, as a history buff I’m glad you think those purity codes are the cat’s meow, better than sliced bread and all that, but they are just so three millennia ago . . .), eloquent prose, and blunt statements. Sarah laughed. Jesus wept.

And frankly I love its sordidness. Pettiness.

Though separated by more than a thousand years, and written by different people for vastly different reasons, there is something revelatory about two Biblical passages involving dance. Talk about sordidness. Pettiness. Horror even. And then liberally toss in helpings of humanity’s other weaknesses like jealousy and lust. The end result is like using Lord of the Dance as the soundtrack for Lord of the Flies. Wondrous and despicable at the same time.

Ah, David’s dance before the ark of God (2 Samuel 6:16)! Who could not be moved by the warrior’s exuberance? Well, Michal for one. Most of verse sixteen revels in David’s nearly nude so-you-think-you-can-dance routine. But then pettiness snatches center stage. Michal, daughter of Saul (boo, hiss), who once declared undying love for the young shepherd, now watches him cavort in the streets and—oh how I love this word near the end of a sentence and in the middle of the Old Testament—despises David. Shortly after this, Michal’s final mention in the Bible refers to her dying childless. (You can almost hear whoever first scrawled the Hebrew version of despise on papyrus cackling aloud at her comeuppance.)

How petty. How human. Why did she act that way? Yes, yes, verse twenty gives her reasons. I read them, but I don’t buy them. I think there’s more because I know the depths of my own pettiness. I know how I can brood over another’s words and twist an innocent comment into a personal insult. Now here, I could provide sordid examples of my faults. But I won’t. I don’t want you to enjoy my misery. Work on your own!

Petty we are.

And lustful, dim-witted, and two-faced. Even as I write these words South Carolina governor Mark Sanford (boo, hiss) has returned from the Appalachian Trail Argentina to confess his adultery. I’m sure when you read this, it will be old news. But how I’d love to eavesdrop on a conversation with Sanford and Eliot Spitzer (remember him?) if they were stuck between floors on an elevator. And I won’t be surprised, whenever you read this, that (underline title) Mayor/Governor/Senator (fill in blank) __________ just announced he or she had (underline confession) a dalliance/an affair/an understanding with (fill in blank) __________ who was a (underline relationship) one-night-stand/mistake/soul-mate. Roll your eyes. Grit your teeth.

Lust.

And thus we meander through the thin pages of the Bible to Mark 6:22 where Herod Antipas’ stepdaughter danced. Take a few moments and read all about the old boy’s wide-eyed lust. It’s embarrassing. It’s the Bible! Herod Antipas was so enthralled with his stepdaughter’s solo that he literally went head-over-deals for her. Soon John the Baptizer exits our fair story and his negotiated demise—as you well know—was not for the squeamish.

Have I lusted? Yes.

I’m old enough to remember the brouhaha (and old enough to use that word) when Jimmy Carter honestly told the Playboy interviewer in 1976 that he “lusted in his heart.” Frankly, I think that helped elect him. And, even though Carter was a southern governor, at least he didn’t head for the Appalachian Trail. And yet he lusted. I have lusted. We’ve all lusted.

David danced. Michal seethed as she watched. Herodias’ daughter danced. Herod watched and . . . salivated?

Yes, read the Bible with me. Have your heart warmed. Together, let’s find those dog-eared pages marking I Corinthians’ thirteenth chapter. Remember love, hope, and faith. Or turn to Matthew and create a litany from the beatitudes for the worship leader and congregation to proclaim together. We rightly revere those words, those faithful challenges that demand our best.

But the words also help break our hearts. Anne Lamott (in Plan B) shares about a . . .

(R)abbi who always told his people that if they studied the Torah, it would put Scripture on their hearts. One of them asked, “Why on our hearts, not in them?” The rabbi answered, “Only God can put Scripture inside. But reading the sacred text can put it on your hearts, and then when your hearts break, the holy words will fall inside.”

How I love the Bible for the fullness of its very human story. I am petty. I am lustful. I am broken. And I, like you, am divinely, unabashedly loved.

in Peace,

Larry Patten

(written on June 30, 2009)