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February 8, 2012

I am a terrible dancer, but have always loved to watch other people dance. There is something beautiful beyond words about the curve of a dancer’s arm, or the leap of a ballerina. So it’s no surprise that, in the midst of preparing my Epiphany sermon, I stumbled across the film Girl Walk // All Day. Girl Walk tells the story of three dancers, jumping and running and kicking their way in and around New York City’s most well-known landmarks, many within walking distance of Trinity Church. The members of the trio chase each other over the Wall Street bull, through the Highline, around Chinatown and all the way up to Yankee Stadium, drawing crowds of New Yorkers into their movement. The film culminates as dozens of people dip and sway to John Lennon’s Imagine, holding sparklers in Central Park.

I flipped back and forth between segments of Girl Walk, and the Epiphany reading from the Gospel of Matthew:

“They set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure-chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.”

The intersection of the Girl Walk film, which said so much about joy and community, with the story of the Wise Men seemed more than coincidental. Both the film and the Gospel described giant games of hide-and-seek; the one, dancers searching for each other and finding community along the way; the other, wise people following a star, unsure of what they will find until they encounter Jesus.

Being so moved by these two stories, I preached a sermon that referenced Girl Walk. In it, I made the case that, in a city where we are used to being able to go to specific places for specific things (Starbucks for coffee, for example), we have become used to the idea that God is only to be found in church. The film opens our minds to the possibility that all space, everywhere, is sacred.

But preaching a sermon was not enough. I wanted our congregation to experience Girl Walk, and to love it like I did; I also wanted to invite newcomers to experience St. Paul’s, and to love it as I do. St. Paul’s is an ideal space for dancing (which we do each Sunday in our 10am service) and for film-watching: polished, open floors, ceilings high enough for giant projection screens, a dramatic setting if ever there was one. And so I contacted the filmmaker, Jacob, to see if he would be interested in showing his film. Our visions lined up perfectly: a dance lesson, followed by a film screening, followed by a dance party. All free of charge.

And so it was that, two weeks later, three hundred people filled the floor and balconies at St. Paul’s – some dancing, some watching; all connected by the artistry and music of Girl Walk.

New York City, as I have experienced, is one of the most isolated places in the world – millions of people ignore each other all day long, all the while nearly tripping over their neighbors. Wrapped in our iPhones and in a hurry to get somewhere, anywhere, we are largely oblivious to the people and space around us.

The power of Girl Walk // All Day, and the power of church, is the power of connection: the breaking down of the barriers that inhibit authentic community. In church, we are made to sing together, to shake one another’s hand, to hold out our hands to receive bread and wine, and to pray together. All of this is vulnerable, and all of this allows us to connect.

Dancing is much the same – when I was in the dance lesson that preceded the film screening, I could feel my own inhibitions slipping away as I made moves like ‘Headbands of Power’ and frantically tried to keep up with the routine, laughing all the way. My neighbors were having the same experience – we connected as we literally tripped over one another, and then as we watched the film, and then as we all danced together.

It was thrilling to see St. Paul’s packed full of people; wonderful to watch people dance; a pleasure to be a part of the sharing of a unique piece of art. Most of all, it was sacred to participate in this game of hide-and-seek – everyone came looking for different things at St. Paul’s, but my hope is that, in tripping over one another, we all found a piece of God.