Dreaming dreams
Yesterday was Pentecost Sunday, and it landed on a bright, breezy early-summer morning. I sang three services at the Cathedral, starting with the 9 AM. So I was there the whole day, from 8:15 to about 6, a day of much sitting on wooden seats, and even more standing. Standing, standing, standing, and no dancing. I have begun to think my body starts to panic when I have to hold still for a long time. First comes discomfort. Then something - neck, shoulders, back - hurts. Then it's hard to breathe. and sometimes I get dizzy, which can make it hard to read those tiny little notes. All for want of a triple step or a swing-your-partner.
To delay rigor, when we are sitting I scrunch my toes, bend my knees a little, lean over once in a while to pop my lower back (though I have concerns that the pop may be audible in the Cathedral's magnificent acoustical bloom), so that I can listen more carefully and "see" the readings as events happening right now, in front of me.
Yesterday, I imagined the disciples pouring out of the upstairs room where they had been staying since Jesus was crucified, hitting the streets on fire with the Holy Spirit that had descended on them in tongues of flame. I can't imagine that they were particularly still. In my mind's eye, they are vibrating, sizzling with excitement, urgency, and the Word in them exploding their silence and breaking them open like hot steaming bread. They are engulfed in languages. Peter - who has not been the greatest speaker in any of the gospels - erupts into eloquence. It's astounding.
In my mind's ear, I hear something wild, almost raucous. My mom tells me that in her little church, Acts 2:1-21 was read by several readers in different languages - Russian, Greek, Spanish, German,English and French - and all were speaking at the same time. That feels so right. Because who can wait? How do you take turns when you have something so life-changing, so momentous roaring inside you? It astounds me that the readers don't levitate when they are speaking this passage, and that we who are hearing it manage to sit in our seats and hold decorously still. Shouldn't we should be bursting with joy and running out the door with our hearts on fire? Even if maybe we didn't on Easter.
It's never too late...