“Welcome one another, just as Christ has welcomed you, to the Glory of God.” Romans 15:7

Several years ago, a dear friend of mine invited me to a special service at Congregation B’nai Abraham, an orthodox Jewish synagogue down at 5th and Lombard Streets. A well known rabbi from the Lubavicher tradition was going to speak, so quite a few orthodox Jews from the region came to the Friday evening service.
Now, if you’re at all familiar with Orthodox Judaism, you’ll know that most orthodox men dress in a very specific way: black suits; wide brimmed black fedoras, long beards with side curls. The Lubavitcher tradition in particular stresses a rigorous adherence to Jewish cultural and religious practices. My point in telling you this is so that you’ll understand that I stood out. Nobody there would assume that I was a member of that congregation or even Jewish for that matter.

When the worship service began, I felt even more conspicuous: people were praying in Hebrew and despite three semesters of it in seminary, I couldn’t begin to follow the service in the prayer book, much less pray along with them. Some people were rocking back and forth as they prayed. I was sure that I did not belong, so I stayed close to my friend in case anyone might notice me and question my presence.

The climax of a Friday evening Shabbat service happens when the sun sets and the cantor announces the beginning of the Sabbath. For Jews, the Sabbath isn’t just a day off; Jews think about the Sabbath kind of the way Lutherans think about the Lord’s Supper. It’s the divine gift in which humanity is invited to celebrate the richness and the beauty of all of God’s creation. And Lubavitchers are particularly enthusiastic in their celebration. When the Sabbath was announced, everyone began to clap and sing and dance. Some of the men joined hands and formed a chain that began to snake its way through the sanctuary as the music intensified. Others latched onto the chain as it passed and soon almost everyone had formed a circle and was dancing around and around the perimeter of the building.

I wasn’t quite sure what to do since I was a guest, so I decided to wait in my pew while the celebration took place around me. But suddenly I felt someone tugging on my hand. I looked down and there was a young boy, maybe seven years old. He was wearing a yarmulke, and side curls, and the biggest smile on his face as he pulled me out of my seat and into the circle of dancing men. He didn’t ask me if I was Jewish or not; as far as he was concerned, I belonged and he wanted to be sure that I joined the party. All of my awkward self-consciousness dissipated as this little boy pulled me into the circle. I felt like this joyful celebration was a glimpse into the kingdom of God.

After quite a bit of discussion, reflection, and prayer, our church has chosen for itself the motto: Celebrating God’s Welcome. Even though that little boy and I view the world from different religious perspectives, his enthusiastic embrace captures what I think this motto is all about. God has given us tremendous cause for celebration. We have this beautiful earth to enjoy. Even more than that, when we turned in upon ourselves, God pulled us out of our isolation. In Jesus Christ, God has embraced us and called us his own. There might be a thousand reasons why you think you don’t belong: maybe you’re hung up about the things you’ve done wrong; maybe you think you’re not good enough; or maybe you think you’re too good. It doesn’t matter. In Christ, God has grabbed you by the hand and claimed you. You belong to the circle of celebration that is dancing all around the globe.

Take a minute to look at the logo on the cover of your bulletin. You’ll notice there are three dancing people. The number three represents God, whom Christians see in the three persons of the Trinity, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. There is an ancient term to describe the relationship between the three members of the Trinity: perichoresis… perichoresis. Peri in Greek means “around”, as in perimeter. Choresis means to “dance”… it comes from the same root as choreography. So the word perichoresis means to dance around. According to the teachings of some of the earliest Christian theologians, the very nature of God is a kind of dance in which the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit yield to each other in an unending circle of love.

Perichoresis is a pretty notion, but what is so wonderful is that in Christ WE have been brought into this dancing circle. We are the body of Christ so in our work and in our worship, in our joy and in our grief, in all that we share with each other, we are participating in this cosmic dance that is the very life of God.

Now I need to tell you about another dancing experience that I had; this one was not quite so nice. You see, I have two left feet. Ask anyone who has ever tried to teach me to dance. I am as clumsy as you can get. Once I visited Holden Village, a Lutheran Retreat Center in the Cascade Mountains of Washington State. Before going to Holden I had been backpacking, so the only shoes I had were these big awkward hiking boots. My first night at Holden was a gorgeous September evening. There was an outdoor barbeque and after everyone had eaten a band started playing music and people began to dance. A kind young woman saw me standing like a wallflower at the edge of the party and invited me to dance with her. I should have warned her. There I was lumbering across the dance floor in my hiking boots, looking a lot more like Bozo the Clown than Fred Astaire. I stepped on her feet at least twenty times during the course of the song. After song ended, she politely excused herself and headed for the bar to get a stiff drink. Anyone who is foolish enough to dance with me should be prepared for some very sore feet.

Ask that woman… or ask Jesus. Jesus knew that when he invited humanity into the divine dance, it wasn’t going to be like “Dancing with the Stars.” We don’t know how to follow. And before the dance was over, Jesus would have some pretty wounded feet… and hands. That’s what he was talking about in our Gospel reading when he told the disciples that he would soon be arrested and crucified. The message of welcome and inclusion that Jesus was spreading throughout the land would not be met with a gracious response. Rather, it would be met with violence. We rejected God and we nailed him to a cross. But God met our violence with forgiveness. Like a foolish dancer, God is so head over heels in love with humanity, that God is willing to pull us into the dance, even if we end up hurting him.

God in Christ has welcomed you. Celebrate God’s Welcome. And then welcome someone else into the celebration. Someone like me with two left feet. Or maybe someone who seems to be standing awkwardly off to the side, not quite sure if she belongs. Let that person know that they are welcome in Christ.

Shall we dance?