dance

Introducing Dance in the Local Church

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This article gives practical guidance for introducing movement into congregational worship for the first time.

Congregations who have had no experience in dance are willing to enter into congregational movement and dance if they are introduced to it properly.

With a greater emphasis being placed today on the physical body and with our increased time for leisure, there is an open opportunity to portray through dance a positive Christian standard of bodily expression. But care and skill need to be used so that this new and sometimes controversial experience is a helpful and positive one. Our bodies are amazing creations; they should not, on the one hand, be flaunted as sexual objects, nor, on the other, be ignored, despised, or neglected. They should be celebrated and cared for as part of all that we are as we live out our life for God and others.

My vision is to see churches with congregations free enough to express their worship and fellowship in movement; where there is a warmth and joy in being able to join hands as a congregation or march together around the church; where new church buildings are designed with space for movement; where dance groups are encouraged in the same way as singing groups.

The Possibilities

Dance and movement have been accepted with enthusiasm by some congregations. Others see their introduction as new and suspect, often not realizing the long tradition they have in Jewish and Christian history. Their acceptance in the church has ebbed and flowed throughout history but has been gathering momentum in this century. For a while, predominantly in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, dance almost totally disappeared, surviving only in isolated pockets and in a few accepted movements in the Eucharist and other liturgies.

Dance in biblical times was primarily a communal expression of rejoicing and worship. In congregations today it may also help the ministry of the church in such areas as intercession and prophecy, healing, teaching, and evangelism. The expression may be simple movements to songs and prayers that people in the congregation can do during worship or in the privacy of their own homes. Or it may be a community dance. It could also be presentations done by a specialist group as part of the ongoing worship and teaching of the church or as an outreach to the wider community.

A Language Without Words

Movement is a language that can speak without words. It can either reinforce or detract from the words we speak. A slumped body, a clenched fist, or a hand reached out to touch can say as much or more as any spoken words. The postures used in the Bible for prayer and worship—bowing, kneeling, and standing with hands raised—are still widely used today and can express to God our love, reverence, and humility. These movements are mentioned in many of our songs and hymns. It can be helpful to encourage people to use such expressions rather than merely singing “bow down before him” or “we lift up our hands” without any movement.

Movement can also help us to be still. We need a balance between action and rest, between doing and being, between giving and receiving. Jesus commended Mary for sitting and listening because Martha’s service, though well-intentioned, was distracting her from listening to what Jesus had to say (Luke 10:38–42). But just quieting our bodies is not always enough—wandering thoughts and anxieties can still be running around in our minds, preventing us from hearing. Simple rhythmic movements or the use of prayer gestures and postures may help to slow our minds down and center our thoughts without sending us to sleep, and so bring us to the point of being able to listen and commune with God.

The word worship, used in its broadest sense, refers to our attitude of service. It is the honor and love we offer to the Lord in all that we do. It can also be used to refer to the expression of awe, reverent homage, and adoration in our times of public and private prayer.

As we worship, we begin to enter into a deeper awareness of God’s presence, offering ourselves, our awe, devotion, and adoration to him in a more intimate and quiet way.

Movement was an integral part of worship in biblical times. Many different movements were encouraged in the expression of worship. For example, in the Psalms we read:

  • Come, let us worship and bow down; let us kneel before the Lord our Maker (Ps. 95:6).
  • Lift up your hands in the sanctuary and bless the Lord (Ps. 134:2).
  • O clap your hands, all peoples; shout to God with the voice of joy (Ps. 47:1).
  • The singers went on, the musicians after them, in the midst of the maidens beating tambourines (Ps. 68:25).
  • Let them praise his name with dancing; let them sing praises to him with timbrel and lyre. For the Lord takes pleasure in his people (Ps. 149:3–4).

There has been a surge of interest in the dance and other arts over the last few years among Christians and much of it, I believe, has been inspired by God.

Dance and prayer movements can be meaningful and symbolic ways of expressing worship with everything that we are—our hearts, minds, souls, and strength (Mark 12:30). We are encouraged in Scripture to use our strength and activity as well as our words and stillness, presenting our bodies as living sacrifices (Rom. 12:1).

Introducing Movement and Dance

When starting to introduce more movement to a congregation, it is a good idea to bring to people’s attention the meaning of the movements they already do. Encourage them to move with more of an awareness of what they are doing to help make it a real part of their prayer and praise.

As you explain their need to move towards God with their whole being, also explain that there are times they need to be still and allow God to move towards them. Movement can help to bring us to an inner quietness and concentration. The movement artist, aware of the importance of both, can effectively lead the congregation in stillness as well as movement.

Before the Service

In planning to lead the congregation in movement, it is helpful to keep the following points in mind. To avoid introducing too many new things at once, use already well-known or easy hymns, choruses, or spoken words. If you feel you need to use a new song, introduce it two or three weeks before you plan to lead the movement participation.

  • Choose movements that are meaningful to people’s lives.
  • Remember those who are older or physically handicapped and either make the movements ones they can manage or suggest adaptations.
  • Try out the movements and the explanation on one or two other people or in a small group to check for meaningfulness and clarity.
  • Make sure you consult whoever is leading the service to coordinate when and how the participation will take place.

In the Service

  • Explain to the congregation that this is a way of offering to God their whole selves—body, mind, and spirit—and give some passages from Scripture as support.
  • It may also be appropriate to mention the history of movement in the church, explaining, for example, that many of the choruses in seventeenth-century carols and hymns were danced.
  • Present the movements and explanation simply and prayerfully with enthusiasm and assurance. People need to feel confident about what you are asking them to do.
  • Give the meaning of the movements, using Scripture where appropriate, so that people are motivated to worship through them and so the movements are not perceived as being in the same realm as actions in children’s songs. For this reason, it is better to use the word movement rather than action. The explanation will also help people enter into the worship more fully rather than feel embarrassed.
  • Each movement needs to be “performed” as you show it, so people can see and feel what it means to you and begin to enter into the feeling and focus of the movement for themselves.
  • Remember in demonstrating that you need to mirror the congregation. If they are to move right, you will need to move left.

Invite and encourage people to participate, but don’t force them to or make them feel awkward if they don’t want to. Here is an example of an introduction the movement leader might give: I’d like to invite your to worship God in the next song with simple movement as well as with your hearts, minds, and voices. God created us body and spirit, and Jesus tells us to love God with all our heart, mind, soul, and strength. So let’s offer our whole selves to him this morning. As the psalmist says in Psalm 149, “Let Israel be glad in his Maker … for the Lord takes pleasure in His people.” This may be something new for you. Many people immediately find a new release and meaning in their worship as they express it in movement. Others feel self-conscious and awkward at first. But I encourage you to try it. Paul says in Romans 12:1, “I urge you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies a living and holy sacrifice, acceptable to God, which is your spiritual service of worship.” Your sacrifice of worship this morning will be pleasing to God.

Understand Resistance

Not everyone will immediately warm to the thought of participating in movements, and it is important to understand the points of resistance that may consciously or unconsciously hinder people from joining in wholeheartedly.

This possible resistance increases the importance of adequate teaching along with participation. You must encourage people that using movement in worship is very biblical, that it has a long history in the church, and that it can be a very positive experience for most if they give themselves the chance to try it and get used to it.

Categorizing the Movements of Worship

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Since movement is a normal part of life it has to be a part of worship forever. However, highlighting or emphasizing actions is the purpose of dance. These articles describe sources and means for utilizing movement more fully in worship.

Gestures denote the movements of a part of the body as distinct from the whole. Wagging the ears, shaking the fist, stamping the feet—these are gestures. One can gesture with the fingers (beckon), with the shoulders (shrug), or with the eyes (wink). Smiling too is, strictly speaking, a gesture, since only part of the body is mobile—the face. We clap with the hands, nudge with our elbows, frown with our foreheads, embrace with our arms, kiss with our lips, etc. Gestures are not always easy to interpret. We scarcely need a Hamlet to know that one may smile, and smile, and be a villain. The meaning of a gesture may be modified by a posture: I may shake my fist at someone, but if my whole bearing is one of good humor, with a smile on my face, I obviously intend to communicate a playful threat and not some warning of doom to come.

Posture, according to the OED, denotes the position and carriage of the limbs and of the body as a whole when it is in a state of immobility. Under posture then are to be grouped a long list of words that designate total body shape. A person is said to be standing, sitting, squatting, crouching, kneeling—these are all postures. To assert that someone has a threatening posture is to indicate that his jaws, shoulders, legs, and feet are thrust forward aggressively and that his hands have been made into fists. A posture of exhaustion points to hanging heads, drooping shoulders, dangling arms, and unsteady legs. While posture thus relates to a condition of stillness, this stillness, as Martha Graham has emphasized, can be dynamic and not static: it may be the body at its most potential efficiency (S. J. Cohen, ed., Dance as a Theatre Art: Source Readings in Dance History from 1581 to the Present [Pennington, N.J.: Dance Books, 1977]). Posture can also involve, in the words of Carolyn Deitering, either complete tension or complete relaxation which “are the two poles of no movement between which all movement takes place” (C. Deitering, “Creative Movement Expression,” Momentum [Journal of National Catholic Education Association], [1974]: 18-23), while movement itself can take any one of three forms: gesture, which has already been mentioned, together with posture adjustment, and locomotion.

Posture adjustment denotes the action whereby one changes one’s body shape. I am standing (posture) and I then lie down on my back (posture adjustment) and so adopt a new posture of supineness. In this movement, every part of the body has been involved. Posture adjustment also signals a change of attitude. A woman standing erect, with head held high and a haughty expression on her face, who then bows down and prostrates herself on the ground is adjusting her posture from one of independence and possibly defiance to one of servitude and humility. She has disposed herself bodily in a particular posture. So a distinction has to be observed between a participle which may denote a posture (e.g., kneeling), and an active verb which describes posture adjustment (e.g., I kneel or am in the process of kneeling down). Posture then calls attention to a completed movement while posture adjustment specifies the actual motion.

Locomotion, as its etymology indicates, involves movement or motion from one place (loco) to another. It denotes therefore not movement on the spot but through space. In the horizontal plane, one runs or walks, while in the vertical it is possible to jump or hop.

Directions

The several adjustments of posture may each be placed on a scale that can be read either downwards or upwards. If we start in a standing posture, then bowing, sitting, kneeling, and lying on the ground are successive stages of descent to the earth, with falling as a precipitous way of achieving the same end. If we start from a supine posture, then the posture adjustments we can make are all concerned with ascending or rising movements. The meaning of the adjustments derives largely from the significance attached to the directions of up and down, but turning, since it involved changes of direction on a horizontal plane, has to be interpreted differently.

Directions have indeed always been important for human beings. Jews pray towards Jerusalem; Muslims face Mecca; Christians orient their churches to the east. Although we are perfectly aware that God does not dwell on the top of our atmosphere, height symbolizes that which is more important (a higher position) and indeed the upward direction is interpreted as Godward while downwards is the direction of the creature, of the grave, and even of hell itself.

The expressiveness of directions has been admirably set out by Joan Russell: Reaching to the high point directly above gives the feeling of aspiration, a reaching beyond oneself into the endless space above. Movement in the opposite direction, deep, is helped by the pull of gravity and has a feeling of stability and security. Movement across the body brings about a closing-in movement, almost as though cutting oneself off from everyone else. The movement to the open side brings about an awareness of others with an almost welcoming attitude. Movement backward gives a retreating expression, while movement forwards has an advancing, reaching expression. (Joan Russell, Modern Dance in Education [London: MacDonald & Evans, 1958])

The Sources of Christian Movement Vocabulary

With these distinctions in mind, it should now be possible to set out a movement vocabulary, but there is one other factor to be considered, and that is the determination of what source or sources should be drawn upon. To attempt to adapt the Hindu vocabulary, as a number of Christians in India are very properly doing (R. Englund, “Christian Dances in India,” Journal of World Association for Christian Communication 27:2 [1979]; R. Englund, “Sing a New Song,” Now [Methodist Church Overseas Div.] [1983]: 8f), would not be a sensible proceeding in Western societies where the culture and movement conventions are so different. Another point of departure has to be sought. In the first place, past Christian practice presents itself, already hallowed by tradition and use. This practice has the virtue of familiarity. To this can be added, in the second place, Shaker movement patterns that are sufficiently distinct from mainline Christianity to come under a separate heading. In the third place, it is reasonable to suppose that an extension of them by reference to the Bible would be generally acceptable. Such an extension is unlikely to prove difficult because biblical anthropology knows nothing of the body-soul dualism and uses, therefore, psychological concepts to characterize bodily parts and movements. Hence over and above their strict physiological meaning, organs and limbs have a further significance attached to them. To give an illustration: the word in Hebrew translated as throat—that is its anatomical designation—can also mean breathing, life, and desire. Indeed the main Hebrew terms for worship are verbs of physical movement such as “to prostrate oneself” or “to raise the hand to heaven.” Worship then can never be exclusively mental or spiritual; it has to be physically embodied. Precisely because of this perspective, the Bible is likely to provide a rich source for movements, and indeed there are only a few limits to be observed.

First, it has to be accepted that some parts of the body have no meaning ascribed to them either in themselves or in use. The legs, for example, apart from being bent in prayer (and even then it is customary to speak rather of the bending of the knees), are afforded no special significance. Then some organs are, as it were, neutral in that they only acquire meaning from the way they are used, e.g. lips can flatter, lie, or praise. Moreover, since the interpretation of gestures is in part a question of conventions subject to cultural change, not every biblical interpretation will commend itself at the present day—to give an example: winking the eye is an expression of contempt according to the Old Testament, whereas in modern Western society it is a come-hither signal.

There is a fourth source that should not be neglected, and that is ancient Middle Eastern iconography (O. Keel, The Symbolism of the Biblical World: Ancient Near Eastern Iconography and the Book of Psalms [New York: Seabury, 1979]). This serves to supplement the biblical material as well as to illustrate it. Postures and gestures can be studied on coins, seals, and painted mummy cases; they are represented in statues and bas-reliefs, while archaeological finds of all sorts have their own contribution to make.

Finally of course there are the meanings attributed to conventional gestures which often coincide with their functions (e.g., to clench the fist is to show aggression precisely because that is what a boxer does in order to fight). Natural positions too have their inherent meanings, e.g., kneeling is a near-fetal posture expressing dependence and need. Moreover, to kneel is often a painful thing to do, especially in Eastern churches where there are no foam-padded kneelers and no bench in front against which to support oneself. Penitence then becomes a bodily condition (A. Chirovsky, “Revelation and Liturgy: The Epiphanic Function of the Human Body in Byzantine Worship,” Diakonia 13:2 [1978], 111-19).

Integrating Dance in the Liturgy

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This article offers a rationale for incorporating dance in worship as well as guidance for understanding the purpose of various types of movement.

If dance is to become an acceptable feature within a church service, then it must be integrated with and not just added to the celebration of the liturgy. If it is a mere decoration that neither deepens nor focuses devotion at the point where it takes place, then it should be excluded, since the accusation of gimmickry would be justified. In other words, liturgical dance must be protected from becoming the intruder that ballet once was in opera—when the pace seemed to be dropping and interest possibly flagging, a dancer or a troupe was introduced to enliven the proceedings; this added nothing to the opera and was a prostitution of ballet itself. This is certainly not what is needed in the church. Dancing will be integrated with the Eucharist only when and if it corresponds with the nature of worship itself.

When dance is an act of praise or witness, then it is not a filler that brings the course of the liturgy to a halt. An inadequate relationship between dance and worship has been fostered if members of a congregation are prompted to think: Now the service proper has to be stopped for a few minutes in order to experience this particular art form. No doubt it will proceed shortly (Environment and Art in Catholic Worship; G. Huck, ed., The Liturgy Documents. A Parish Resource, Liturgy Training Program, Archdiocese of Chicago, Chicago, 1980). To avoid this, dance has to serve the ritual action; it has to be an enrichment of the whole cultic act. It has indeed to manifest grace, using that term in the sense defined by Martha Graham: “Grace in dancers is not just a decorative thing. Grace is your relationship to the world, your attitude to the people with whom and for whom you are dancing.”

She, of course, was speaking as an individual dancer, but she was perfectly well aware that a solo in the course of a service when legitimate is or should not be a performance. In this respect Judith Rock’s view is very opposite: “An effective religious dance is an effective dance which springs from someone else’s relationship with God and the world, to illumine my own relationship with God and the world” (J. Rock, Theology in the Shape of Dance [Austin, Tex.: Sharing Co., 1978]).

This means that when dancing in a church, he or she must be aware that they are being invited to contribute to an event in which God is encountered, not to execute a program seeking applause. Here is hallowed ground—not in the sense that some ecclesiastical formula has been uttered over it, but of a place where God can be met; if the dancing aids that meeting, its integration with worship has been achieved. The reference here is of course to dance which in itself is an act of devotion, but this statement has to be freed from ambiguity by defining precisely what kind of dance is in mind since there are many varieties, not all of which could be identified in this way with worship.

The old distinction within dance, which has previously been given some attention when seeking to outline modern developments, is that between storytelling and movement. The liturgical viability of the former is not difficult to discern.

1. Narrative dance can accompany biblical readings, both illustrating and supplementing them. When a scriptural passage recounts an event, such as the entry of Jesus into Jerusalem on the first Palm Sunday, this can be represented in dance. In this way, one of dance’s major uses by the world religions will be recovered for Christianity, namely, the function of reenacting the sacred history that is the foundation of the faith. When the lection itself consists of a story, e.g., the parable of the Pharisee and the publican, this story can obviously be mimed. Teaching, e.g., some verses from a prophetic book, frequently cast in concrete images, can be supplemented by dance.

2. Narrative dance can replace a sermon, not simply of the didactic but also of the kerygmatic type, i.e., through a dance, the proclamation of the gospel may take place. One should not only preach one’s religion but dance it; one should not just pay verbal testimony to one’s faith but incarnate it. Athenaeus, writing c. a.d. 200, could refer to a particular person as “a philosopher-dancer” on the grounds that “he explains the nature of the Pythagorean system, expounding in silent mimicry all its doctrines to us more clearly than they who profess to teach eloquence” (Athenaeus, Deipnosophistae). If philosophy can be danced, so can theology.

3. Narrative dance in a dramatic form can be used to accompany and be a commentary upon spoken prayers, as well as hymns and carols, and also psalms. Psalm 68, to give an illustration, is a reenactment of God’s conquest of chaos and it included, and can still include today, dancing and singing (J. Eaton, “Dancing in the Old Testament,” in Davies [II. G. 9], 4-15).

4. In narrative dance the meaning of the stories can be explored physically. We are apt to think that understanding is something we achieve through mental processes alone; in fact, a group that has danced, say, the parable of the Talents may come to a deeper perception of responsibility than that which a verbal analysis alone can achieve. Or to dance the tension between Mary Magdalen and Jesus, the former attracted to and yet inadequate before the figure of Christ is to become more sensitive to personal interaction. This exploration may also be related to the prophetic character of dance. Prophecy, to use a familiar cliché, is not so much foretelling as forth-telling. It calls things into question—actions, policies, behavior, preconceived ideas. It has an iconoclastic aspect, breaking down barriers to new understanding. It witnesses to reality deep down in things, brings awareness, witnesses to the possibility of the new. Prophecy summons us beyond the now and encourages hope in the future, i.e., it deals with the present in the light of what is to come. Dance too can assist us to find the ultimate in the immediate by transcending the present and opening it up to eschatological possibilities. Prophetic dance does not simply mirror the present nor depict solely the historical context of an original story; it points beyond that which is to what may be. It can awaken responsibility and lead to an appreciation of values rooted in actual living.

5. Narrative dance fosters identification. To identify through dance with the Samaritan woman in John 5 is to share her initial doubts about Jesus and so discern and feel some of the problems that his challenge presents—problems such as we ourselves have in the shape of our own individual doubts. Indeed we cannot appreciate our own faith without being conscious of and living with the questions that continually rise against it—faith and doubt are the sides of a single coin. To identify with Christ himself through dance is to take a step towards greater Christlikeness. Mimesis arouses the sentiments imitated (see Aristotle’s Politics), and here may be found some of the ethical and educative value of liturgical dance of the narrative kind. The dancer has to use imagination and make an image of that which may be more beautiful and more sublime than he or she really is: this promotes identification with the image—in Christian terms—with the image of God.

We turn next to the other main category of dance—movement. This may be understood as that which either expresses something or is simply a kinetic flow that does not “mean” anything; the former is the general understanding of modern dance and the latter of what may be called post-modern dance. In either case, movement can have a liturgical relationship. As an expression, dance, e.g., after the act of Communion, would give bodily shape to gratitude—we respond in dance and dance our thanks in celebration of the goodness and bounty of God, experienced through partaking of the bread and wine. As a movement, it may consist of the creation of abstract patterns: this too can be at home in the liturgy if the dancers are intending to weave patterns to the glory of God, i.e., offering in his honor the best of which they are capable. The dances of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers could have belonged to this category; they did not mean anything; they did not express anything, but they can be liturgically related in terms of the exercise of their creative gifts before him who bestowed them. However, these particular dances may be included in another variety, namely, the spectacular: this introduces a different typology, not simply one of narrative and movement, but one which embraces, in addition to the spectacular, the recreational, with the expressive coming in again as a third variety.

The spectacular itself can also be subdivided into the mimetic and the abstract—and no more need be said about these two. The recreational on the other hand comprises dances from the minuet to rock and roll, from ballrooms to discotheques. On the face of it, it might appear that there is little to be learned from this category that might be applicable to liturgical dance since its very title suggests a mere pastime, a relaxation of not very profound significance. However, the origins of folk dance are often to be found in rituals, e.g., in marriage ceremonies or in the celebration of the seasons. It is essentially communal and its purpose is not to entertain an audience, but to involve the participants in a group activity. In this sense, it can be very suitable for corporate worship, and especially for the Eucharist, one of whose essential thrusts is towards unity so that the members of the community may become progressively one in Christ—a round dance, for example, is an effective symbol of such togetherness. This is to affirm that this kind of dance can have practical results, which is how many religious dances in the past have been understood—a hunting dance was believed to lead to success in running down a quarry, and so on. Of course, when dance is regarded as an art, there is a tendency, under the lingering influence of the slogan “art for art’s sake,” to deny that it can have any effect. Yet this primitive way of interpreting it cannot be ruled out; liturgical dance may be properly understood in terms of cause and effect, in this instance the circular dance is the cause and a greater sense of fellowship is the effect.

Of the expressive or expressional dance something has already been said, but it does demand further brief consideration. Expressive dance, as it has been understood by Balanchine, is nonmimetic and nonrepresentational. The movement itself is held to be self-explanatory so that the expressiveness is perceived to be intrinsic to it (J. Highwater, Dance, Ritual of Experience [New York: A & W Publishers, 1978]). Without repeating previous statements, it should perhaps be emphasized here how the expression of, for example, sorrow in a penitential dance is inseparable from the dance itself, which in its turn is indistinguishable from the dancer who is the instrument of his or her own art. The dance is the penance.

If this is difficult for those unfamiliar with dance to grasp, some help may be forthcoming from Barbara Mettler. She describes what it is to dance fire. It does not mean pretending to be fire; what is necessary is to sense in the muscles the quality of fire movement and then to move as fire itself moves (B. Mettler, Materials of Dance as a Creative Art Activity [Tucson, Ariz.: Mettler Studios, 1979]). Let us apply this to the expression of sorrow in a penitential dance. This does not mean pretending to be sad or mimicking how we think a mourning person may behave. On the contrary, it is to experience sorrow bodily and then to move accordingly. The dance then is the penitence. Similarly, in a dance of praise to express gratitude, the dance is the praise.

William of Malmesbury, the twelfth-century historian, showed his appreciation of this in his life of Aldhelm, when he described the saint’s return from Rome c. 701. He was welcomed by monks with songs and incense, while “a part of the laity danced, stamping with the feet (pedibus plaudunt choreas); and a part expressed their inner joy with diverse bodily gestures” (William of Malmesbury, de Gestis Pontificum Anglorum [Rolls Series, ed. N.E.S.A. Hamilton, Longman; Trubner; Parker, Oxford; Macmillan, Cambridge, 1870], 373f.). The Latin verb plaudere in its intransitive form means to applaud, to give signs of approval, to praise, so the burden of the report is that Aldhelm was praised in the dance with the feet—this is a practical application of the psalmist’s “Praise him with dance” (Ps. 150.4).

When dance is integrated with worship, then there is a gain in three respects. Diversity is increased, creativity is encouraged, and participation is intensified. A glance at Paul’s account of worship at Corinth reveals a great variety within every service. A Shaker recipe for the liturgy provides a charming comment on this.

Sing a little, dance a little, exhort a little, preach a little, pray a little and a good many littles will make a great deal. (D. W. Patterson, The Shaker Spirituals [Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1979])

Paul was also concerned that every member of a congregation should play a part: “When you come together, each one has a hymn, a lesson, a revelation, a tongue, or an interpretation” (1 Cor. 14.26). The parts played were determined by the Holy Spirit who revealed his presence through his gifts: teaching, prophecy, and so on. When and if these gifts are suppressed or not given expression, inevitably there is a quenching of the Spirit (1 Thess. 5.19), leading to a decay of the charismata. What then of those whose gift it is to dance? Are they to be ruled out of a liturgical celebration? Is the divine source of their unique gift to be denied by neglect? Are talents to be unused and their exercise inhibited, thus incurring condemnation? (Matt. 25:14–30). If music and singing and sculpture and painting—all the arts—have a place in the Christian cultus or its setting, why not dance? “All words and art forms,” say the North American Roman Catholic bishops, “can be used to praise God in the liturgical assembly” (Environment and Art in Catholic Worship, 215–243]). This is applicable to those individual artists who can and wish to worship God by dancing. To deny them the opportunity is to subject them to an almost intolerable restraint that those responsible for leading worship need to understand sympathetically. Ruth St. Denis tells of an occasion in a St. Louis restaurant when the orchestra began to play.

The music went through me like a shock. I did not have the audacity to spring up then and begin to dance … I sat still and suffered, every fiber of me responding to the rhythm, every nerve stiffening in my effort to stay in my chair. (Ruth St. Denis, An Unfinished Life [New York: AMS Press, 1991; reprint of 1939 ed.)

This reaction could be identified at a church service where there is no freedom to exercise one’s gift. Indeed this applies to all gifts and not only to that of dance. In the early days of Miss St. Denis’s career, such liberty was little known.

Intuitively I tried to restate man’s primitive use of the dance as an instrument of worship, and the result was a profound evolution in myself but no answer to the question, What temples will receive these dances? (Ruth St. Denis, An Unfinished Life)

At the level of individual devotion, as distinct from that of a body of corporate worshipers, there is also a problem. When visiting a famous cathedral, such as that at Canterbury, we are usually exhorted to kneel and pray. Suppose, however, we have the gift of dance: why should we not dance before the altar, quietly so that our form of devotion does not interfere with others of the more cerebral kind?

In stressing the importance of removing barriers to liturgical dance, it is necessary to recognize that there is a risk involved. Religious dance can be like saccharine, sweet but lacking any real substance. It can neglect, to its detriment, the dark side of human existence. It can become sentimental, superficial, and anything but a fitting rendering of glory to God. But once the expert, who does not readily give way to these temptations, is allowed into the church, the result is likely to be disturbing. Creativity does not fashion a safe haven: it challenges. This can upset members of a congregation, many of whom will be conservative and, even if prepared to tolerate dance, will want it to be inoffensive. This could be to impose shackles on creativity and it has called forth this heartfelt complaint from another dancer, Judy Bennett.

Everything is peaches and cream kind of dance.… Only trouble is, life’s not always pretty, and I want to dance about life and offer that dance to God, but it’s hard to do that in the church: there’s no market there for dances with guts.… I won’t, as a dancer, compromise what I know to be worthy and true just to pacify church ladies with “body-hangups.” (Carlynn Reed, And We Have Danced. A History of the Sacred Dance Guild, 1968–1978 [Austin, Tex.: The Sharing Company, 1978])

Of course, not every Christian has a gift to enable him or her to be a solo dancer of distinction and originality or a choreographer of stature. Nevertheless, some worshipers may have powers unknown to themselves which can come into play if there is the possibility of bodying forth their aspirations (M. N. H’Doubler, The Dance and Its Place in Education [New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1925]). Moreover it was a Shaker conviction, and one that all Christians can share, that “dance is the greatest gift of God that ever was made for the purification of the soul” (Patterson, The Shaker Spirituals)—something then for all, even if most will fall short of perfection.

Because it is for all, dance can be integrated with worship to increase participation. It may further this in several ways. First, it reduces the threshold of shyness and so promotes corporateness. Second, it draws people out of isolation since the movements are visible, the emotions and rhythm are common and the enjoyment of God becomes the shared activity of a fellowship. Third, dance enables each one to become part of a totality that is greater than him- or herself. Fourth, through dance each person can have an active role in the service—such was the case with the mystery religions contemporary with the birth of Christianity and in part accounted for their popularity since the adherents were able to feel involved (G.-P. Wetter, ‘La danse rituelle dans l’eglise ancienne’ Rev. d’hist.et de lit. relig. 8 [1928]: 254-75). Fifth, the Eucharist is a celebration of love; this relatedness (for that is what love is) is possible because of our common bodiliness which itself may come into play through dance. Finally, the Eucharist concerns not only bread and wine but people, and what they do should be a sign of that unity which it is one of the purposes of Communion to advance: an effective symbol of this is the dance, especially in its ring form. Such dancing corresponds to a change in the art that has accompanied the development of democratic ideals. In the past, prima ballerinas and subservient corps de ballet corresponded to kings and queens and their courtiers. Today it is the group, where there is a relationship of equals, that is to the fore. In a congregation where a hierarchic concept predominates, the dancing group will be less welcome than in one where fellowship is the ideal (Doris Humphrey, The Art of Making Dances [New York: Rinehart, 1959]). But the Eucharist is not only about oneness, it is about liberation, and with this the question of the interpretation of dance, which has already emerged at several points, must become the prime object of attention.

A Case for Dance in Worship

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The church’s uneasiness about including dance in worship stems, in part, from the dualism that equates the body with evil and the spirit with good. Worship demands physical and spiritual involvement that can transcend this dualism.

In the beginning, there was dance. Before Israel, there was dance. Before Jesus’ birth, there was dance. Before the writing of the Scriptures, there was dance. Before words there was dance. “Dance” has been described and performed in many different ways from one worshiping community to another throughout history. Here I will examine dance historically, practically, and theologically by addressing some common questions, concerns, and opinions about this most ancient form of worship.

Why Should Dance Be Part of Christian Worship?

Many people fear the idea of dance in worship because their visions of “dance” include the awkward stumbling of children’s dance classes, memories of dance forced upon them by overzealous physical education teachers, or even the experience of watching poorly executed dance within the context of worship. The word dance is often accompanied by feelings of embarrassment and discomfort. Here I will propose helpful, natural, and appropriate ways in which dance can be utilized within worship.

I define dance in a more general way than perhaps many have in the past. Some may be surprised to hear that they are already dancing in worship! When arms are raised in prayer, when we make the sign of the cross to remember our baptisms, or when we kneel to express humility, we are participating in a form of liturgical dance. Any expressive movement of our bodies within worship can be considered, in a general sense, liturgical dance.

In the beginning, God moved over the waters and created. If we accept the definition of dance as expressive movement, we need no further proof of the importance of dance. Expressive movement is an integral part of the human worship experience.

To witness the natural human response of dancing, we need only look at our children. Even before a child has mastered speech, he or she will likely whirl and jump in dancing movements. In responding to the wonders of creation, which unfold daily in the life of a young child, it is probably not words but movement and music which come most easily and naturally as a response. In the perception of many children, all of nature seems to sing and dance.

Dance was one of the first forms of worship for humankind, and it was also one of the first forms of Christian worship, inherited from the Jews. Dance in worship is part of our Christian heritage. It was practiced earlier than our creeds, most of our hymnody, and even our naming of God as Triune. Yet, while historical precedent goes far toward justification of a practice, I will not use that argument for the continuance of dance. As with any religious practice, we should examine our reasons for maintaining or discarding it regardless of historical precedent. We must judge dance using the criteria we use to judge all practices we call “Christian”: does it enrich our worship, carry spiritual meaning for us today, and reflect the good news of grace and forgiveness we have through Christ?

As a child, I looked around at the stony faces of adults in church pews and wondered how they could sing. “We praise Thee, we bless Thee, we worship Thee, we glorify Thee, we give thanks to Thee for Thy great glory” with faces and bodies absolutely devoid of expression! When I could understand the message these words were intending to proclaim I was at first puzzled, then amused, and finally saddened and frustrated. The love and grace we proclaimed were incredible; the God we worshiped, awesome. How could these people have the restraint to keep from dancing, shouting, embracing, or at least smiling?! I could not understand or accept a response limited to reluctant vocal chords.

Why should we embrace dance as a valid, even necessary part of our worship? Because expressive bodily movement is fundamental to our humanity. When we hear the gospel of Jesus the Christ, how can we help but express our joy with all of our being? The question now becomes one of form.

How Can We Dance Appropriately in Worship?

Some think that no dance is appropriate in worship and consequently use a very narrow definition of dance. Others feel that only congregational movement is legitimate. Some insist that any spontaneous movement by anyone at any time during worship is acceptable and a gift of the Spirit, while others insist dance should be done only by those who are properly trained.

By defining dance as I do, it becomes an action done by nearly all worshiping people and includes a wide variety of things. Different forms of dance are appropriate in different settings. Here I will mention a number of specific forms dance can take, some of which are not acceptable in every congregation or in every worship setting:

1. Common Worshiping Movements. These movements include special postures of praise or reflection (e.g., kneeling, raised arms, folded hands, bowed heads, and embracing) in the name of Christ. Unlike simple walking, standing, or sitting, these movements are done not merely for the practical reason of moving from point A to point B so the service may continue, but they are done by the individual to express something specific and meaningful about his or her faith. Under this definition, one who presides at a worship service does a considerable amount of dancing.

2. Communal Movement. This includes movement shared by an entire congregation which helps to emphasize equality and community among the worshipers. The movements generally resemble simple folk dances, if they are structured at all. The movements of charismatic congregations come under this heading, where the movements are extemporaneous and unrestrained. This form of “dance” is difficult to classify, as it may be done by many or only a few within a congregation; and whether it promotes unity or equality may be debated. Historically, communal movement has been accompanied by singing or chanting. The most common forms are circular and processional.

3. Fine Art Dance. This is performed by one or more dancers with technical training in dance and a sensitivity to liturgical practice. This involves the community in a less direct manner. These dancers help to set the mood for a community’s worship, using their particular gifts to express the community’s praise, repentance, gratitude, sorrow, or joy. It is more refined and ordered, using instrumental accompaniment more often than vocal accompaniment.

4. Mime and Clowning. While these expressions of the Christian message fall under our definition of dance as expressive movement, they should be seen as separate expressions of worship and faith. Confusion results when these things are lumped together with liturgical dance in the forms of communal or fine art dance. While all three are expressive movements, they are very different and should be studied separately.

5. Drama. This too deserves a classification all its own. While drama involves much expressive bodily movement, it is confusing to speak of it as dance.

In what form then, should dance be a part of worship? I consider any of these forms appropriate as long as it is done in the proper setting and with willing participants. The choreography must fit the occasion and contribute to a worship experience that enriches the faith of all involved. Where it is possible, communal movement is a wonderful vehicle for enriching the worship of a congregation. It beautifully illustrates our oneness as the body of Christ. More realistic, however, is the performance of fine art dance. In twentieth-century America, this form, in most instances, best expresses our cultural identity. Dance is no longer a part of our shared communal identity, woven into our culture as it once was through folklore, recreation, a celebration of life events, and natural cycles. If the dance is properly done, the dancers do in fact dance for the whole congregation. The more experienced the dancers are with both dance and liturgy, the more naturally this bond is formed.

If Dance Was Once Part of Christian Worship, Why Did It Not Continue?

The debate over dance and what forms are appropriate within the context of Christian worship has gone on since the church’s first days.

The Old Testament references to dancing make clear that dance was inseparable from Jewish worship. J. G. Davies tells us: “The religion of ancient Israel was without question a dancing one” (J. G. Davies, Liturgical Dance: An Historical, Theological and Practical Handbook [London: SCM Press, 1984], 96). Dance for Israel was a sacred expression of faith, one worthy of heaven itself. Daniels writes, “The idea of heavenly beings encircling the throne of God and singing his praise goes back to the Talmud, where dancing is described as being the principal function of the angels” (Marilyn Daniels, The Dance in Christianity, A History of Religious Dance through the Ages [Rams, N.J.: Paulist, 1981], 18).

As Christians considered the “new covenant” in Jesus the Christ, many forms of Jewish worship, including dance, were adopted as a natural part of early Christian worship.

The string of dancing prophets continues with Jesus, as described in the Acts of John. The often violent opposition to dancing by the Church Fathers throughout the centuries has made us forget the significant role of the dance in the life of the early Christians. (Walter Sorrel, The Dance through the Ages, [New York: Grosset & Dunlap, 1967], 19)

The Acts of John (c.e. 120), an apocryphal writing, describes dancing at the Last Supper. The disciples gather around Jesus and perform a circle dance, with Jesus speaking the words, “Whoso danceth not, knoweth not the way of life. Now answer thou to my dancing” (Sorrel, Dance through the Ages, 20–21; Daniels, Dance in Christianity, 14).

Eusebius tells of the worship of the Therapeuts, which consisted of an all-night festival, including sacred dancing: They all stand up in a body and in the middle of the banqueting-place they first form two choroi, one of the men and the other of women, and a leader and conductor is chosen for each, the one whose reputation is greater for a knowledge of music; they then chant hymns composed in God’s honor in many meters and melodies, sometimes singing together, sometimes one chorus beating the measure with the hands for the antiphonal chanting of the other, now dancing to the measure and now inspiring it, at times dancing in procession, and at times set-dances, and then circle-dances right and left. (Sorrel, Dance through the Ages, 20)

Throughout the ages many leaders of the church have loved and promoted dance as a form of worship, defending it against many false perceptions. In the second century, Lucian of Samasta called dance “an act good for the soul, the interpretation of what is hidden in the soul” (Ronald Gagne, Thomas Kane, and Robert Ver Eecke, Introducing Dance in Christian Worship [Washington, D.C.: The Pastoral Press, 1984], 39). In a late fourth-century sermon on the text of Luke 7:32, Ambrose, the Bishop of Milan, gives this defense of dance: The dance should be conducted as did David when he danced before the ark of the Lord, for everything is right which springs from the fear of God. Let us not be ashamed of showing reverence which will enrich the cult and deepen the adoration of Christ. For this reason the dance must in no wise be regarded as a mark of reverence for vanity and luxury, but as something which uplifts every living body instead of allowing them to rest motionless upon the ground or the slow feet to become numb.… This dance is an ally of faith and an honoring of grace. The Lord bids us dance. (Daniels, Dance in Christianity, 18–19)

There are numerous references to dance as a beneficial and welcome part of the liturgy in the early church, including those from Gregory of Nazianzus, Bishop of Constantinople, Basil the Great (334–407), Bishop of Caesarea, Jerome (340–407), Ambrose (who requested that persons about to be baptized approach the font dancing), Hippolytus, and Clement, among others. These people judged dance according to its place in Scripture and tradition and encouraged sacred dance as an acceptable, even necessary form of worship and praise.

The first limiting factor for dance was space since Christians met (often secretly) in private homes. In days when Christians were persecuted and driven into hiding, dance was limited for practical purposes.

Official prohibitions against dancing began for a variety of reasons. When people were converted to Christianity from other religions, they sometimes wished to bring with them the dances of their former religions. This was troubling to the early church leaders and led to a fear of dance becoming a pagan intruder into Christianity. Not all of these dances borrowed from other religions lent themselves well to the purpose of expressing the Christian faith.

Some early church leaders also tried to prohibit dancing in order to set Christianity apart from Judaism. For this reason, many Jewish practices were “spiritualized.” Christian practices may also have fallen victim to spiritualization due to the Hellenistic dualism of flesh and spirit, body and soul which was a part of the culture into which Christianity came.

Under Constantine dance faced another obstacle. While Christianity was made the state religion and grand, ostentatious worship spaces were built, a wedge was driven between clergy and laity. Participation of the laity in worship, especially in the form of dancing and singing, was discouraged.

Dance nevertheless continued. Some of the most well-known dances were the “Dance of Death” and the “Mozarabe.” When plagues swept through Europe, touching the lives of all (especially the Black Death, 1347–1373), peasants believed that if they could catch the devil (who caused this terrible malady), they could drive him off. In the Dance of Death, this was symbolically done.

The Mozarabe was a seventh-century dance where a wooden arc of the Testament was carried through the cathedral in procession with eight boys dressed as angels, dancing and singing. In 1439 it was forbidden by Don Jayme de Palafox, the Archbishop of Seville. The dance was so beloved that the people of Seville collected money and sent the young dancers to Rome to dance before Pope Eugenius IV, who responded, “I see nothing in this children’s dance which is offensive to God. Let them continue to dance before the high altar” (Daniels, Dance in Christianity, 22–23).

The reaction of church officials to dancing appears to be a subjective thing throughout the church’s history. In 539 the Council of Toledo condemned dancing in church processions in Spain and dancing in churches during vigils on saints’ days. In 633 the Council of Toledo forbade the Festival of Fools with its singing and dancing. In 678 the Council of Toledo suggested that the Archbishop Isidore of Seville compose a ritual with much-sacred choreography (Gagne, et al., Introducing Dance in Christian Worship, 82; Daniels, Dance in Christianity, 22). Many such examples can be found throughout the history of the church.

Where Do We Go from Here?

Dance began as an expression of the faith of common people as inherited from the Jews and was used to express faith through the centuries despite the warnings and prohibitions of the church hierarchy. The rationale for these prohibitions ranged from legitimate concerns about inappropriate practices making their way into Christian worship to clericalism to confusion between sensuality and sensuousness.

Sensuality arises when the body is objectified and is thus stripped of its sacramental meaning. Sensuousness is a natural and good aspect of being human that needs to be recognized in our worship. We cannot worship as disembodied spirits. James Nelson writes:

Because the human body is vitally and spontaneously sexual, many Christians in their dualistic alienation have been offended by the radical implication of the incarnation.… The Victorian within still winces at the thought that the incarnation might be “a tale of the flesh.” (James B. Nelson, Embodiment: An Approach to Sexuality and Christian Theology [Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1979], 74)

Why is dance not a more widely used expression of worship today? If we hesitate to use dance but not song because we feel one form of worship has more historical precedent, we must look more closely at our history. And if dance is omitted from worship solely out of our fear of causing someone to notice the beauty of the human body and of its movement, we need to confront our own fears and ask whether they are valid reasons for prohibiting someone’s worship of God. Deiss writes, “[Humans are] not only spirit, but also flesh. Our creator has given us bodies endowed with beauty and grace, and expects us to use them—not as a hindrance in our progress toward [God], not as “weapons of iniquity” in the cause of sin, but rather as “weapons of justice for God” (Rom. 6:13). It is, therefore, natural that the inner prayer of the soul express itself outwardly through the body.” (Lucien Deiss and Gloria Gabriel Weyman, Dancing for God [Cincinnati: World Library of Sacred Music, 1965], 3)

Worshiping as whole people should not frighten us. We should, in fact, look for ways in which we can “offer our bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God” (Rom. 12:1). Our worship should incorporate all of our being: our voices, our minds, our eyes, our ears, our hands, and our feet. Worship cannot be restricted to one day per week and certainly should not be restricted to watching the show in the chancel. Jay Rochelle writes: Dance in church still seems offensive to many not only because of the focus of the human body, but because of the active nature of that body as instrument of worship. Our sense of the passive, even quietistic, uses of the body as receptor may block us from seeing the body active in offering, thanksgiving, and praise. (Jay C. Rochelle, “The Contemplative Ground of Craft,” NICM Journal [September 1977])

Our liturgy does not occur in a vacuum, it reflects the whole of our Christian life. If we will greet one another in the name of friendship, why do we hesitate to greet others in the name of Christ? If we will leap for joy when the Chicago Cubs hit a home run, why will we not leap for joy at the good news of Jesus the Christ? And if we feel the unquenchable impulse to dance, as Gene Kelly declared in “Singing in the Rain,” shall we not dance also for our God?

A Brief History of Dance in Worship

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Christian dance has persisted throughout the history of the church, despite many official decrees against it. Christian churches that have incorporated dance and other stylized gestures in worship have benefited from a profound way of expressing their praise and enacting the gospel message. Dance as worship is one manifestation of the Spirit’s ongoing activity in the church.

The New Testament church was not born into a vacuum, but into a Jewish culture filled with heritage and saturated with rich traditions. T. W. Manson has commented: The first disciples were Jews by birth and upbringing, and it is a priori probable that they would bring into the new community some at least of the religious usages to which they had long been accustomed. (T. W. Manson, quoted in Ralph P. Martin, Worship in the Early Church [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1974], 19)

Christianity entered into a tradition of already existing patterns of worship, including music and dance, as found recorded in both the Bible and ancient writings.

King David danced exuberantly in God’s presence (2 Sam. 6), while Miriam the prophetess led the women to dance with tambourines in response to their mighty deliverance from the pursuing Egyptian army (Exod. 15). Women are seen dancing in Shiloh at a feast (Judg. 21:21–23) and before David as a response to his military victories (1 Sam. 29:5). Visual images show both the bride and the bridegroom dancing: he leaping in dance (Song 2:8) and she as two dancing companies or armies with banners (Song 6:13). The Psalter commands the dance (Ps. 149:3; Ps. 150:4).

Other writings provide accounts of dancing in Jewish history. The Mishna describes a major ceremony of Sukkot, the seventh and final feast of the Jewish sacred year celebrating God’s rains and the increase of crops. The ritual is called Nissuch Ha-Mayin, in Hebrew meaning the water drawing. “The water-drawing ceremony was a joyous occasion, replete with grand activity and high drama” (Mitch and Zhava Glaeser, The Fall Feasts of Israel [Chicago: Moody Press, 1987], 175). “Levitical priests, worshipers, liturgical flutists, trumpeters, and a crowd carrying lulax (branches) and etrog (fruit) celebrated together in a great display of symbolic activity and festival rejoicing” (Sukkah 5:1). It was probably the viewing of this ceremony to which Jesus makes reference in his great teaching on the outpouring of the Holy Spirit in John 7:37–39.

Another celebration, which occurred on the first night of the feast of Sukkot, was the illumination of the Temple. Enormous golden candlesticks were set up in the court of the women.

The mood was festive. Pious men, members of the Sanhedrin, and heads of the different religious schools would dance well into the night holding burning torches and singing songs of praise to God. (M. and Z. Glaeser, Fall Feasts of Israel, 182)

The Glaesers go on to report: “Not only did they play instruments with fervor, but the Levitical choir stood chanting and singing as the leaders of Israel danced” (M. and Z. Glaeser, Fall Feasts of Israel, 183).

Dr. Sam Sasser writes: Recognized Norwegian scholar Sigmund Mowinckel, in what is believed to be one of the best books written on the Psalms in Israel’s worship, and a standard text in most graduate schools and seminaries, notes in definition: “Together with song and music goes the dance, which is a common way of expressing the encounter with the body. The dance is a spontaneous human expression of the sense of rapture.… At a higher religious level it develops into an expression of the joy at the encounter with the Holy One, an act for the glory of God (2 Sam. 6:20ff). It behooves one to give such a visible and boisterous expression of the joy before Yahweh.” (Sam Sasser, The Priesthood of the Believer [Plano, Tex.: Fountain Gate Publishers], 111)

The church from A.D. 30 to A.D. 70 was undergoing transition. There was a separation from Temple worship, and those elements in the old covenant which would not be continued in the new covenant. The epistles and the book of Acts outline the forms and ceremonies of Judaic worship that would be eliminated in the church. Blood sacrifice (Heb. 9), Levitical priesthood (Heb. 7:11–28), the practice of circumcision (Acts 15:5, 28–29), and the keeping of new moons and Sabbaths (Col. 2:16–23) were to be discontinued. However, there is no commentary about discontinuing the use of musical instruments, singing, and dancing. Nowhere are these condemned or forbidden. On the contrary, the following Scriptures seem to indicate the continuing practice of inherited worship patterns (Col. 3:16; Eph. 5:19–20; Acts 15:13–16; 1 Cor. 5:13, 14:26).

It is noteworthy that historically the book of Psalms has been the basic hymnbook for the church and her worship patterns, as David Chilton describes: When the church sang the Psalms—not just little snatches of them, but comprehensively, through the whole Psalter—she was strong, healthy, aggressive, and could not be stopped. That’s why the devil has sought to keep us from singing the Psalms, to rob us of our inheritance. If we are to recapture the eschatology of dominion, we must reform the church; and a crucial aspect of that reformation should be a return to the singing of Psalms. (David Chilton, Paradise Restored [Tyler, Tex.: Reconstruction Press, 1985], 8-9)

Although Jewish tradition is replete with accounts of dancing, Ecclesiastes 3:1 and 4 states, “To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven / A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.” The New Testament church was soon to experience seasons of mourning and weeping. Lamentations 5:15 says: “The joy of our heart is ceased; our dance is turned to mourning.” Laughing and dancing would again find their season in the church as God brought times of restoration, healing, and revival. Jeremiah 31:4 promises, “Again I will build thee, and thou shalt be built, O virgin of Israel: thou shalt be adorned with thy tabrets, and shall go forth in the dances of them that make merry.”

Separation from Jewish heritage was not the only point of adaptation for the new church. Until the time of Constantine, a.d. 323, the church experienced extreme persecution at the hands of the Roman government. Christians were captured, used as human torches, compelled to fight in gladiatorial combat, and fed to lions in elaborate spectacles called Roman games. The games reflected the immoral decadence, monstrous abuses, unwieldy influence, and imperial sadism into which Rome had fallen. Incorporated into these games was the Roman dance, an art form borrowed from other cultures, mainly Greek, and consigned to slaves.

Christians had seen their friends and fathers martyred in amphitheaters where their agony was merely a prelude to, or an incident in, the shows. That the church Fathers would honestly have denied any desire to employ consciously a trace of taint from Roman spectacle we have no reason to doubt. Church history is full of the courageous and violent denunciations that the early Fathers launched against the shows.

As early as a.d. 300 a council at Elvera decided that no person in any way connected with circus or pantomime could be baptized. In 398, at the Council of Carthage, a rule was established excommunicating anyone who attended the theater on holy days (Lincoln Kirstein, Dance: A Short History of Classic Theatrical Dancing [Little Rock: Revival Press, 1982], 59-60).

Although church history of the first millennium finds the weight of evidence to be in opposition to dance, there are quotes from writings of the church fathers which indicate some trace of dancing remained in the Christian church.

  • “Of those in heaven and those on earth, a unison is made, one General Assembly, one single service of thanksgiving, one single transport of rejoicing, one joyous dance.” Chrysostom (a.d. 386)
  • “Everything is right when it springs from the fear of the Lord. Let’s dance as David did. Let’s not be ashamed to show adoration of God. Dance uplifts the body above the earth into the heavenlies. Dance bound up with faith is a testimony to the living grace of God. He who dances as David dances, dances in grace.” Ambrose (a.d. 390)
  • “To keep the sacred dances, discipline is most severe.” Augustine (a.d. 394)
  • “Could there be anything more blessed than to imitate on earth the dance of angels and saints? To join our voices in prayer and song to glorify the risen creator.” Bishop of Caesarea (a.d. 407)
  • “I see dance as a virtue in harmony with power from above.” Thodoret (a.d. 430)
  • “Dance as David danced.” Bishop of Milan (a.d. 600)
  • “Dance as David to true refreshment of The Ark which I consider to be the approach to God, the swift encircling steps in the manner of mystery.” St. Gregory of Nazianzus (a.d. 600) (all quoted from Debbie Roberts, Rejoice: A Biblical Study of the Dance [Little Rock: Revival Press, 1982], 39-40)

In his book on dance, Lincoln Kirstein records a few examples of dancing in Christian churches: The Abbot Meletius, an Englishman, upon the advice of the first Gregory, permitted dancing in his churches up to 604.… The Jesuit father Menestrier, whose history of dancing published in 1682 is full of valuable data about his own time as well as of curious earlier tales, tells of seeing in certain Parish churches the senior canon leading choirboys in a round dance during the singing of the psalm. The Parish Liturgy reads “Le chanoine ballera au premier psaume.” (“The canon will dance to the first psalm.”) (Kirstein, Dance, 63)

Continuing in this vein, Kirstein records three more examples: Scaliger said the first Roman bishops were called praesuls and they led a sacred “dance” around altars at festivals. Theodosius says that Christians of Antioch danced in church and in front of martyrs’ tombs. Los Seises, the dancing youths of the Cathedral of Seville, whose annual performance on the feasts of Corpus Christi and the Immaculate Conception was connected with the ancient Mozarabic rite, are often described as ritual dancers, though their dance was really an independent votive act, peculiar to the towns of Seville and Toledo. (Ibid.)

The writings of Augustine in the fourth century issue a complaint against dancing: It is preferable to till the soil and to dig ditches on the day of the Lord than to dance a choreic reigen. Oh, how times and manners change! What once was the business of lute players and shameless women only, namely to sing and to play, this is now considered an honor among Christian virgins and matrons who even engage masters in their art to teach them. (Walter Sorell, The Dance through the Ages [New York: Grosset and Dunlap, 1967], 36)

On the one hand, condemned and on the other hand embraced, dance seems to have never completely disappeared from church history. Especially in the Mediterranean countries and the Orient, people never gave up dancing. Here, the clergy applied less coercive measures to restrain dance. However, taking the gospel to the north, the clergy had an uphill struggle to uproot the rituals and pagan rites.

With the Christian way of life taking root, the heathen quality was lost, but the people retained what they liked about the old way. How many things in which we still indulge nowadays have their roots in ancient pagan rituals, such as the idea of a June bridge, Halloween, or Yuletide! Or who would think today of the Maypole as a phallic symbol and of the dance around it as a fertility dance? (Ibid., 38)

Although dance was more often condemned by the millennium church than sanctioned, there were exceptions. As Alordyce Nicole writes, in his exhaustive work on the period, had this been actually enforced half of Christendom, including a section of the clergy, would have been out of communion with the church.… From East to West, in Constantinople, in Antioch, in Alexandria, in Rome, the mimic drama flourished, uniting together old pagans and new Christians in the one common enjoyment of pure secularism. (Kirstein, Dance, 60)

Because of the increase in heresy, the leaders desired more centralization of authority and a set pattern of doctrine. A series of traceable events, beyond the scope of this article, gave rise to priestly class and eventually the formation of the Roman Catholic church.

From the scriptural position of the priesthood of all believers there grew up a distinct priestly class.… The early leaders warned against falling from this idea, but soon a priestly class was developed and the priests began to do things for common Christians that, they were told, they could not do for themselves. This was not only a retrogression to Jewish days, but was also a compromise with paganism. If the ministers were to be priests they had to interpret the items of worship in such a way as to give themselves special functions and to justify their position.… Along with these developments was a general increase of ceremonialism. Simple services became ritualistic. (F. W. Mattox, The Eternal Kingdom [Delight, Ark.: Gospel Light Publishing House, 1961], 151)

Combining the practice of asceticism and the sharp cleavage between clergy and laity, this period finds little expression of dance in the church; and what can be found is in the ceremony and service of the priests. Hence, the rise of the Mass. The Mass is based on Christ’s passion. It is called Eucharist or Thanksgiving, since those celebrating give thanks for the bread and wine. The Mass continued to be arranged until it supported “an astonishing exuberance of minute detail, each tiny point related to a central truth of the religion” (Kirstein, Dance, 70).

The expression of one’s beliefs and feelings through movement is the very foundation of dance. Though the worship form of dance was removed from the people and repressed in the priesthood, the basic elements of dance found its expression in the Mass. It is the indirect contribution of the Mass with which we are occupied but even so, there were definite preordained movements and postures for the participants. However, we do not infer nor should we “easily assume that basilicas were sacred opera houses, or the Mass was a holy pantomime” (Ibid., 67). But dancing as a form of worship is not an isolated phenomenon or an ancient relic of our distant Hebraic ancestors. Therefore, we must understand the forms worship may take when it emerges as the dance.

  • Outside the walls of the church, people were still expressing religion in dance, although their belief was more a fear of death than faith in the living God that prompted Israel’s dance.
  • In no other epoch besides the late Middle Ages has the dance been more indicative of social phenomena. It reflected frightening aspects of the plague and the fear of death.
  • At Christian festivals people would suddenly begin to sing and dance in churchyards, disturbing divine service.
  • Hans Christian Anderson tells of little Karen who was cursed to dance without stopping and who could not find rest until the executioner cut off her feet. (Sorell, Dance through the Ages, 40, 42)

The church leaders tried to stamp out these obscene dances, which often began in the churchyard cemetery with people dancing around tombstones then moving through the town attracting more and more people as they went. This dance, also known as the dance macabre, reached a climax as the bubonic plague swept Europe in the fourteenth century. These dances of violent nature occurred everywhere. In Germany, they were called St. Vitus’ dance. In Italy, it was called tarantella and these dances indicated the tenor of life, particularly during the period of the plague (Ibid., 40).

The clergy maintained that the millennium would be the day of reckoning, Judgment Day. When the year 1000 passed without any visible changes, some of the fear subsided.

The Church remained powerful and the spirit of medievalism lingered on, even while man awakened to new inner freedom. From the crudeness of his carnal lust and mortal fear of it, he escaped into chivalry; checking his growing freedom, he forced himself into the straitjacket of ideal codes. (Sorell, Dance through the Ages, 39)

The fourteenth-century introduced more change for the world and the church with the beginning of the Renaissance, the great revival of art and learning in Europe in the fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth centuries. The world was revolting to set the soul and body free.

Above all, Renaissance man had a visual mind, as his accomplishments in printing, sculpture, and architecture prove. The eye became used to seeing in patterns. And it was a geometric design that inspired the first attempts at ballet. (Ibid., 90)

The Renaissance, emphasizing the dignity of the human person, laid the foundation for independence of thought which eventually broke the grip of Catholic theology. A revitalized interest in the study of the Scriptures caused people to be aware that the New Testament church was vastly different from the church in existence in Western Europe.

The religious and moral corruptions now could be effectively combated because of the intellectual freedom which had been encouraged by the Renaissance. Men began to see in the Scripture that the claims of the clergy were unfounded, and with a new intellectual basis for their criticism, ideas of opposition to the hierarchy spread rapidly. (F. W. Mattox, Eternal Kingdom, 240)

The sixteenth-century began the Reformation. Notable leaders sought to eliminate the unscriptural doctrines and practices of the Catholic church and, through reforms, return the church to New Testament patterns. One of the first reformers was Martin Luther (1483–1546). Along with emphasizing justification by faith, Luther stressed the priesthood of all believers. This was a preeminent step to releasing the people to express their worship unto God, which would eventually release all the Davidic expressions of praise, including dance.

John Calvin (1509–1564) was a leader of the Reformation in Switzerland who laid down principles that have influenced a large part of the Protestant world today.

The church of Luther experienced and preached the ideal of renunciation of the world more strongly than the Reformed church, which desires to proclaim the glory of God in all areas of life. The Reformed Churches do not view this world as a vale of tears but as the vineyard of the Lord, which is to be cultivated. They do not shun the world, but meet it, accepting the danger of becoming secularized in order to magnify God’s name within it and by its means. Thus in the last analysis, they subject nothing to a judgment of absolute condemnation. Everything must and can serve to the glorification of God, even art. We may recall the thought of the Neo-Calvinist Abraham Kuyper. Basically, the art of the dance should also be capable of being incorporated into the service of God. (Gerardus Van Der Leeuw, Religion in Essence and Manifestation [Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1986], 51-52)

Writings on the Renaissance and Reformation periods are scattered with accounts of a revitalized interest in dance in the church. Giovanni Boelaccio of the fourteenth century mentioned the carole, a dance in a ring to singing voices, originally performed in May only, but whose popularity grew until the carole was sung and danced throughout the year.

Variations of the carole arose everywhere. The minnesingers in Germany called it Springtang and put into it a great many hops and small leaps.… The people identified the carole—today known only as a Christmas song—with religious images as they appear in many “Last Judgment” paintings of the early Renaissance which show angels in heaven enjoying a carole. (Sorell, Dance through the Ages, 41)

The varied artistic styles of the Renaissance reflect the concept of dancing in the heavens. The works of Leonardo da Vinci pictured the entire cosmic order as dancing. Dante, a famous writer, poet, moral philosopher, and political thinker of his day saw the dance of the saints in heaven.

When those bright suns so gloriously singing
Had circled three items ‘round about us turning,
Like stars which closely ‘round the pole go swinging,
They seemed like women who are not yet willing
To dance, but to the melody stand clinging
While the new rhythm mind and ear is filling. (Van Der Leeuw, Religion, 30)

The works of Vondel reveal the same visual imagery:

… for the guests so merry
At the wedding, must not rest,
Since their dance is necessary.
Heaven holds no ghost nor quest
Who with holy dance and singing
Does not spend eternity.… (Van Der Leeuw, Religion, 30)

Vondel also sees how the church dances with God:

As air through many organ pipes is guided
One spirit is to many tongues divided,
In equal time through a field of equal sound,
Where Church and God together dance the sound.
The angel hosts from heaven’s height descending
Dance deeply down, our sacrifice attending,
About Christ’s body on His altar-stone.… (Van Der Leeuw, Religion, 30)

Apparently, the prevailing philosophy embraced dancing in heaven. “To die on earth as a martyr brings heavenly joy.… In Fra Angelico’s The Last Judgment, the virgins and martyrs dance the heavenly dance” (Van Der Leeuw, Religion, 68). Luther, describing heaven’s garden for his young song, portrays “a small beautiful meadow, which was arrayed for a dance. There hung lutes, pipes, trumpets, and beautiful silver cymbals” (Van Der Leeuw, Religion, 68). Although the church may have somewhat embraced the concept of dancing in heaven, the practice of dancing on earth was, for the most part, shunned if not declared anathema.

No longer under the heavy restraints of the church, Renaissance society was, therefore, dancing. Two opposite poles of dance developed in Europe between the twelfth and fourteenth centuries: the peasants, or the populace at large, stood for the earthiness and crude joy, while the nobility replaced the primary impulses with refinement and polish. “The court dance was subjected more and more to rules. Contributing to this development was, no doubt, the reliance of the nobility on professional entertainers” (Sorrel, Dance through the Ages, 45).

Further refinements and more popularity came to dance because of Catherine de Medici, a daughter of a great house in Italy who came to France to marry Henry II. “She brought with her a company of musicians and dancers from her native city of Florence to supervise her artistic presentations, and highly impressive they were” (John Martin, The Book of Dance [New York: Tudor Publishing Company, 1963], 26). In 1581, with the expertise of Balthasar de Beaujoyeux (an Italian by birth though bearing a French name), Catherine de Medici produced what is considered the first ballet, Ballet Comigue de la Rein.

The populace was also dancing. Folk dances such as the egg dance, the country Thread-the-Needle, and ring-shaped or choral dances grew in popularity. Labyrinth dances signifying resurrection themes were popular in many parts of the world, sometimes even being incorporated into Christian holidays. At Easter, in the province of Twente, in Oatmarsum, the children danced or processed through the entire town in a serpentine motion singing a very old Easter song:

Hallelujah! The happy melody
Is now sung loud and prettily.
Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

This dance is sluip-door-kruip-door in Dutch, Magdeburger in German, forandole in French, and the cramignon of Limburg. These also had two other names, taken from Biblical antiquity and the classics: Jericho and labyrinth.

From the Reformation period until the present, the church has experienced many spiritual awakenings or revivals, including the restoration of many New Testament truths. The energies of the clergy, theologians, and even whole denominations has been to embrace and preserve the truths that were being revealed. If the loss of truth or the embrace of heresy propelled the church into the dark ages (which is the prevailing philosophy of church historians), then the converse is also true. Embracing truth is responsible for returning the church to her calling, commission, and glory. Scripture compares truth to walls and salvation (Isa. 26:11; 60:18; Ps. 51:18). The rebuilding of truth is analogous to the rebuilding of the walls of Jerusalem after captivity, defeat, and judgment (Ezra 9:9; Neh. 2:17; Isa. 26:1). In Israel of old, such restoration was the promised season of release, rejoicing, and dance (Jer. 31:1–13; Neh. 7:1; 12:27–30). Likewise, as the church has experienced reforming and rebuilding, rejoicing and dancing have accompanied each season of restoration. (Below you will find quotes from various revival periods and special religious sects that validate this view.)

A unique group called the Shakers was founded in England in 1747. The term Shaker came from the rapid up-and-down movement of their hands, mostly in their wrists. Shaking the hands with the palms turned upward as if to receive a blessing meant they were expressing the open petition, “Come, life Eternal.” Shaking of the hands with the palms turned downward to the floor was a symbolic motion that they were shaking out all that was carnal.

The Shakers believed that by keeping their inner and outer lives in perfect order they were reflecting the perfect order of God’s kingdom. The practicing Shaker was held accountable to his religion when he stepped out of bed, when he dressed, when he ate when he spoke, and when he worked. Worldly lusts were suppressed by rules: carnality was held at bay by a dress code that insured modesty, by a series of orders restricting the body’s movements and appetites, and by architectural designs that segregated the sexes. Unity was enforced by the requirements of obedience—the submission of the individual to the authority of God’s appointed leaders.

On Sundays the Shakers danced to the honor of God. Their worship—in vivid contrast to the restrained order of their weekday lives—was an exuberant spectacle that veered unpredictably through many hours of the day. Formal dances could at any time break off into spontaneous displays of whirling, weeping, and shaking. Scathing or uplifting sermons were delivered extemporaneously by the elders, or by individual worshipers who were suddenly seized by the power of God and compelled to speak. Throngs of spectators—“the world’s people”—packed the little meetinghouses to be entertained, shocked, or inspired. No one who witnessed Shaker worship, whether horrified or enraptured, ever forgot it.

The first ordered dance of the Shakers, the “Square Order Shuffle” was introduced by Joseph Meacham about 1785. In 1820 a variation was introduced, men and women shuffled forward and backward in a series of parallel lines, weaving, in imaginative designs, a fabric of union and love.

A 19th Century American engraving called “Shakers Dancing” can be seen at the Dance Collection, Performing Arts Research Center, The New York Public Library at Lincoln Center. (Amy Stechler Burns and Ken Burns, “The Shakers,” American History Illustrated [Summer 1988], 27)

During the early 1800s in the slave community, dance was an important part of their worship. A syncretism of African and conventional Western religious beliefs, the praise meeting in the quarters was unique in the United States. While whites might be carried away by religious frenzy at occasional “awakenings,” slaves had an even more intense emotional involvement with their God every week. In contrast to most white churches, a meeting in the quarters was the scene of perpetual motion and constant singing. Robert Anderson recalled that in meetings on his plantation there was much singing. He noted, “While singing these songs, the singers and the entire congregation kept time to the music by the swaying of their bodies, or by the patting of the foot or hand. Practically all of their songs were accompanied by a motion of some kind.” A black plantation preacher testified to the uniqueness of the religion in the quarters when he asserted: “The way in which we worshiped is almost indescribable. The singing was accompanied by a certain ecstasy of motion, clapping of hands, tossing of heads, which would continue without cessation about half an hour; one would lead off in a kind of recitative style, others joining in the chorus. The old house partook of the ecstasy; it rang with their jubilant shouts, and shook in all its joints (John W. Blassingame, The Slave Community [New York: Oxford, 1972]: 27). Two outstanding features of the slave community worship were the “ring shout” and the “juba.” H. G. Spaulding gave an excellent description of the “shout” on the Sea Islands in 1863:

After the praise meeting is over, there usually follows the very singular and impressive performance of the “Shout” or religious dance of the negroes. Three or four, standing still, clapping their hands and beating time with their feet, commence singing in unison one of the peculiar shout melodies, while the others walk round in a ring, in single file, joining also in the song. Soon those in the ring leave off their singing, the others keeping it up the while with increased vigor, and strike into the shout step, observing most accurate time with the music. This step is something halfway between a shuffle and a dance, as difficult for an uninitiated person to describe as to imitate. At the end of each stanza of the song the dancers stop short with a slight stamp on the last note, and then, putting the other foot forward, proceed through the next verse.… The shout is a simple outburst and manifestation of religious fervor—a “rejoicing in the Lord”—making a “joyful noise unto the God of their salvation.” (Blassingame, Slave Community, 65–66)

Accompanying their singing was the practice of the “patting juba.”

When slaves had no musical instruments they achieved a high degree of rhythmic complexity by clapping their hands. Solomon Northup, an accomplished slave musician, observed that in juba the clapping involved “striking the hands on the knees, then stroking the hands together, then stroking the right shoulder with one hand, the left with the other—all the while keeping time with the feet, and singing.… ” Often the rhythmic patterns used in juba were little short of amazing. After viewing a performance in Georgia in 1841, a traveler from Rhode Island observed that, while the slaves were patting juba, it was “really astonishing to witness the rapidity of their motions, their accurate time, and the precision of their music and dance.” (Ibid.)

The world was in a period of change. The Industrial Revolution followed the Reformation changing the character of life as people had known it. Likewise, the reformers continued to bring change to the church. The late 1800s produced a church concerned about holiness, some Christians even seeking a second work of grace called sanctification. Holiness evangelist, pastor, and church leader Ambrose Blackman Crumper, a licensed Methodist Episcopal preacher, was determined to establish the holiness message in his native state of North Carolina. “Everywhere he went, people shouted, danced before the Lord, and ‘fell under the Spirit’ when they received the second blessing.”

The Holiness movement spawned the great outpouring of the Holy Spirit at the turn of the century. Pentecostalism was born on Azusa Street, prompted in part by the Great Welsh Revival. Seekers of the baptism of the Holy Spirit would receive the gift of tongues. “Dancing in the spirit” was often a regular happening at their meetings. Dancing in the spirit is physical movement akin to dancing, presumably done while under the influence and control of the Holy Spirit. “Most older Pentecostal believers who have participated in spiritual revivals over a period of years have witnessed what is known as ‘dancing in the spirit’ ” (Stanley M. Burgess and Gary B. McGee, eds., Dictionary of Pentecostal and Charismatic Movements [Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1988], 236). According to the Dictionary of Pentecostal and Charismatic Movements, various phrases applied to the dance movements observed in the Pentecostal believers included: holy roller, orgiastic worship, physical agitation, physically demonstrated praises, orgasmic worship, noisy and expressive worship, holy jumpers, and others.

Dancing is a phenomenon closely tied to the fresh encounters with God found in the message of sanctification, baptism of the Holy Spirit, or healing revivals. One famous woman healing evangelist, Maria Woodworth-Etter, whose meetings journal has many accounts of people dancing, had this to say on the subject:

David danced with all his might before the Lord. The word is full of dancing. Where dancing in the Bible is mentioned, it always signified victory for the Lord’s hosts. It was always done to glorify God. The Lord placed the spirit of power and love of the dance in the Church, and wherever the Scripture speaks of dancing it implies that they danced in inspiration, and were moved by the Spirit, and the Lord was always pleased and smiled His approval, but the devil stole it away and made capital of it. In these last days, when God is pouring out His Spirit in great cloudbursts and tidal waves from the floodgates of Heaven, and the great river of life is flooding our spirit and body, and baptizing us with fire and resurrection life, and divine energy, the Lord is doing His acts, His strange acts, and dancing in the Spirit and speaking in other tongues, and many other operations and gifts. The Holy Ghost is confirming the last message of the coming King, with great signs and wonders, and miracles. If you read carefully what the Scripture says about dancing, you will be surprised and will see that singing, music, and dancing has a humble and holy place in the Lord’s Church.… All the great company was blessed but Michael, and she was stricken with barrenness till the day of her death, so you see she sinned in making light of the power of God in the holy dance (just as some do today), and attributed it to the flesh or the devil. They always lost out, and many are in darkness till death. (Maria Woodworth-Etter, A Diary of Signs and Wonders [Tulsa: Harrison House, 1981], 524-525)

The Pentecostal revival was not limited to the United States, but spread quickly to the European continent, bringing with it the Holy Spirit’s gifts, anointing, and also the dance. Between the two world wars, a revival of Christian drama won wide popularity, especially in Germany.

I shall never forget seeing one of these bands of German young people as they produced a thrilling version of the Totentanz (Dance of Death) before a Chinese student-group in Peking. Being chiefly a dance, with music but no words, it spoke an international language; and the intensity of the emotion among these oriental and largely non-Christian observers aroused by this European and thoroughly Christian play was surprising and extraordinary. (Richard H. Ritter, The Arts of the Church [Boston: The Pilgrim Press, 1947], 97-98)

From that time until the present day, dancing has been incorporated by many evangelistic groups. Currently, two outstanding examples are YWAM (Youth With A Mission), founded by Loren Cunningham, and Toymaker’s Dream by Impact Productions. The year 1948 hosted another outpouring of the Holy Spirit known as the Latter Rain Movement. With a strong emphasis on the gifts of the Holy Spirit, laying on of hands, and prophecy, this visitation, like earlier revivals, hosted manifestations of spiritual dancing. Rev. Charlotte Baker, a modern-day prophet and anointed teacher, comments on that outpouring in her book On Eagle’s Wings: “Dancing is not new to the Christian who is familiar with worship in the realm of Pentecostal churches. Since the outpouring of the Holy Spirit at the turn of the century, dancing in the Spirit has been a part of Pentecostal praise and worship.” However, a shift began to take place in the understanding of teachers such as Charlotte Baker. Although not doubting the validity of dancing while yielded to the Holy Spirit’s influence, she and others also believed dancing as a voluntary act is a true act of worship. She goes on to comment:

It must be noted, however, “dancing in the Spirit,” the term which has been so widely used throughout the years, is not found in God’s Word. Careful study of the Word reveals that the appropriate expression is dancing before the Lord. For example, David danced before the Lord with all his might at the time of the return of the Ark of the Covenant to Israel. “Dancing in the Spirit” suggests that the Holy Spirit takes hold of the Christian, causing him or her to enter into uncontrollable motions and contortions, all supposedly manifestations of the Spirit. “Dancing before the Lord” suggests the worshiper’s strength, training, and expertise as fully under the control of the dancer, who expresses worship and joy in actions and steps which bring pleasure to the heart of God. While it is true that the believer is admonished to “leap for joy,” it is also true that there are many Scriptures that indicate that intricate steps, marches, group dances, twirling, and twisting were part of the expression of the dance. There is a growing conviction among the people of God that He is most pleased when we offer to Him, as an act of worship, all of our ability whether it be in art, in the dance, or in any other creative expression with which the Lord has blessed us. Every activity of life is designed to become an act of worship. In the past five years, we have seen many gifted dancers come to Jesus for salvation and add to the Body of Christ a wonderful ability to express, in an excellent manner, their worship unto Him in dance. Just as there are those who have been given the ability to sing and to edify the Body through excellence in song, so are there those who have been given the ability to pour out to God a similar ministry through the dance. Room should be made within the worship structure of the Church for the full expression of each individual; such expression should always remain within the confines of the Word and under the leadership of the ministries. (Charlotte E. Baker, On Eagle’s Wings [Shippensburg, Pa.: Destiny Image Publishers, 1990], 101-102)

In the 1950s and 60s, a few churches pioneered new territory in choreographed dancing, pageants, dance troupes, and trained artists. Among these was The King’s Temple in Seattle, Washington, pastored by Rev. Charlotte Baker, a disciple of the late Reg. Layzell, and Living Waters Fellowship in Pasadena, California, pastored by Willard and Ione Glaeser.

By the early 1960s, the charismatic renewal movement was building momentum, sweeping people from every denomination into the outpouring of the Holy Spirit. An outstanding feature of the charismatic meetings was the importance placed on singing Psalms and other Scriptures. “The rise of singing psalms and Scripture songs, as well as the rebirth of dance in worship, in the charismatic movement is directly attributed to Old Testament examples” (Burgess and McGee, Dictionary of Pentecostal and Charismatic Movements, 689). Exuberance and freshness marked the worship services: “As in the early days of the Pentecostal revival, it is not unusual to find charismatic worshipers singing, shouting, clapping hands, leaping and even dancing before the Lord as they offer him sincere praise and thanksgiving” (Burgess and McGee, Dictionary of Pentecostal and Charismatic Movements, 693).

In 1978 God raised up four men—Rev. Larry Dempsey, Rev. Barry Griffing, Rev. Steve Griffing, and Rev. David Fisher—to begin a teaching worship conference called the International Worship Symposium. This worship seminar, along with one of its offshoots, and the International Feast of Tabernacles Celebration in Jerusalem have done much to encourage local assemblies to begin creative worship in the area of dance.

Dancing in churches currently ranges from simple folk style steps in which whole congregations participate, to traveling professional artists such as Ballet Magnificat. Liturgical dance, the name having been just recently coined to identify the style of dance, is becoming more common.

Practiced by liturgical artists, dance serves and functions as a conduit from the inner workings of the spirit to the outer expression of today’s worship.… dances for the liturgy change with the seasons: fall, winter, spring, and summer match advent, Christmas/Epiphany, Lent/Easter, and Pentecost. Becoming immersed in the cyclical process, a dancer discovers that he or she has become a student of religion. Dances are designed from personal reflections on the spirituality of the liturgical season. Scripture and prayer, mingled with the urgings of the dancer’s soul, and enriched by the experience of life, are shaped through the medium of dance. (Doug Adams and Diane Apostolos-Cappodona, eds., Dance as Religious Studies [New York: Crossroad, 1990], 153-154)

It appears that there is an inescapable link with restoration and rejoicing, with rebuilding and responding—“going forth in the dances of them that make merry” (Jer. 31:4). Indeed “to everything, there is a season.” The season of weeping over our spiritual captivity has come to an end, for He has “turned our mourning into dancing.”