July 2, 2006 Church of the Covenant
The Rev. Dr. Robert J. Campbell, D. Min., D. D.
Printer-Friendly VersionSorry, I Don't Dance
Daniel 3 selectedLuke 9: 25 text: "What do you gain if you have the whole world and lose yourself?"
It was one of those evenings when there wasn't much on TV; if there ever is. I was thinking about this Sunday when an old Harrison Ford film, "A Clear and Present Danger" came on. It got me to thinking about our nation, about patriots' dreams, and where we find ourselves in this land of spacious skies, purple mountains, and gleaming cities.
After almost getting himself killed in a covert military operation fighting Columbian drug lords the central character, Jack Ryan, battered and bruised, ends up at the oval office where he confronts the President about the White House's role in the covert scandal and announces his intent to blow the whistle. Something like the old Iran-Contra deal or a hundred others since.
"You're not going to do that Jack," says the President. "You've got yourself a chip in the big game now and you're going to put that chip away until your life is on the line, then you're going to cash it in. The country can't afford another deception that goes clear to the to," the President continues. "You'll take the blame for this one, but it won't amount to much. You know Jack, the old Potomac two-step." But Ryan replies, "Sorry Mr. President, I don't dance."
It's a great line, but it works only because Ryan finds no joy in saying it. Like a lot of us, he has a "lover's quarrel" with his country. Truth is, he looks miserable for the rest of the film, especially at the point when he raises his right hand and swears to "tell the truth, the whole truth, so help me God" before a Senate committee. He wasn't there to serve himself, his cause, his politics, he was only trying to be a teller of the truth and that takes a courage that more often than not is without joy.
A lot of times I read the Bible and see modern stories or vice versa. Daniel and his compatriots are just that. The Jewish princes, Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, were young, handsome, "west wingers." When Nebuchadnezzar took over their land and sacked Jerusalem, they were recruited along with other young political hopefuls. He trained them in his finishing school. The king knew a good thing when he saw it and fed them at the royal table. But the young princes wouldn't dance to his music. They remained loyal to their childhood teachings. They kept kosher, vegetables and water would be fine for dinner, thank you very much. The thing is, they prospered on their diets and when the king examined them after three years of cultural emersion, he discovered them to be the brightest and the best. So he appointed them to his cabinet and relied on their council. Daniel was eventually made governor of Babylon with his sidekicks as his management team. But the kosher food incident lingered as a red flag in their files.
As time passed Nebuchadnezzar erected a huge statue. Maybe like the one Bob Jones put up in Tulsa mimicking Notre Dame's "Touchdown Jesus." It was a symbol of his success, power, and privilege. He invited all the VIPs to the dedication, hired the national band, and passed out programs. The instructions were simple, every time the band plays fall on your knees. Anyone not following the directions will be escorted to the fiery furnace.
I have pictures of the old steel mills I used to work in. One picture is called "The Last Pour." There's something about the waves of sweltering heat, the glow of the boiling metal, the sparks flying, that draws me back to those days. I can almost smell the sulphur. When I worked atop the coke ovens the temperature on a July night was usually 120 degrees and the heat inside the oven was over 2000. We used to re-line those furnaces on occasion and even after being shut down for a month they would be so hot you could only work in them for half an hour. That was the kind of furnace the king had cooking and since death by fire was the norm for capital punishment, every one knew he meant business.
The celebration began, the furnace was stoked, the band started to play, everybody did what they were told except for those three Jewish princes who stood in the back row. I suspect the king was a little humiliated even if it wasn't their intent. No disrespect, no matter how prosperous they had become and how obliged they were their lives belonged to another.
Furious, the king ordered the three front and center and patiently explained the procedure again. Surely they had just misunderstood. The band plays, the people bow, and you follow suit, it's easy. Any questions? It was their call and according to Daniel the three answered in one voice, "Sorry Mr. President, but we don't dance."
Now you know the rest of the story. In the end they were saved. In the end the king was un-nerved. There was this fourth being in the furnace who looked for all the world like one of them. Seeing the figure the king called the whole thing off and Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego came out smelling like roses rather than burnt charcoal. Nebuchadnezzar was so impressed he promoted them on the spot.
Happy ending, obey God and God will take care of you.
But I'm not so sure that's the point of the story. The point, according to the three heroes, seems to be to obey God no matter what happens. It doesn't make any difference if anyone knows you're right.
You see, when the king gave them the chance they didn't presume to tell him what God would do. They didn't know what God would do. They simply told the king, in the politest way possible, "Mr. King, there is no defense, we don't need any. If our God is able to deliver us, let that happen. But if not then know this, we will still not bow to your ways."
Everything beyond that point you might call "filler material." The turning point of the drama comes when the three say, "Sorry, we don't dance."
The story reminds me of cooking lobsters. One way to do that is to put the lobsters into cold water and turn on the burners. Supposedly it's a kinder, gentler way. The lobsters get comfortable in the warming water and before they know it they're cooked. It seems to me, that's life. Few of us ever have to face the Nebuchadnezzars of the world, our choices are more subtle. We have lived in Babylon for so long it calls for special gifts to even recognize the gods that welcome our patronage. Sometimes they even mask themselves as the realities of hard living. Sometimes their music is a subtle tune like the "popup" that moved onto my screen when I was writing this. It said, "Everything you need in one place." Everything I need or everything I want?
We sing "America the Beautiful," but on this her birthday weekend her arteries are clogged with cars, her spacious skies brown with haze. "Which do you want, America, jobs or clean air," seems to be the political question. Our cities no longer gleam, we solve their education deficits with abandonment, we rob the poor of a higher standard of living by supporting sub-standard minimum wages, we summon the experts to analyze the economy by removing the wealth, and we shake our heads when lifetime pensions are dumped in order to ensure enough lift for "corporate parachutes," all as a national band plays "Stars and Stripes Forever." And when a couple of billionaires decide to really try and make a difference, not only in this country but in the world, the media marvels at the anomaly. "Sweet land of liberty of thee we sing," as we wall off its borders, erode civil liberties in the name of fear, and dismantle the freedoms our patriots dreamed of. Our souls get left at the pawnshops in order to raise cash to feed our addictions and we allow a self-righteous few to rally the flags of faith at the voting booths as they claim to speak for us all. Does that kind of thinking tire you out as much as it tires me out saying it? But the questions is, are we tired or are we bored? Bored of hearing the same old thing? And if so then we better remind ourselves that the only thing worse than moral boredom is death of the dream quickly followed by death of the soul, which is far worse than anything anyone can do to us. They are the harsh realities we read with our breakfast cereal. The water grows warm gradually and, unlike our heroes, we find ourselves gently cooked.
How do you know if you're in hot water? Listen to that voice inside you, that's how. When someone in a position to change our city, or state, or nation asks you to do something that doesn't sound kosher, or when you read about something that makes you feel uncomfortable, or when political operatives promise you what you want whether you need it or not, look around. I can promise you there is a golden statue standing somewhere waiting for the band to play and you to give a reverence. It doesn't have to be much, just a little nod of the head.
The names of those gods don't matter. They don't have any real life to them. Their life comes from those who place them on the planes of our lives in the first place and then look for converts. First they find you, sometimes far from home, hungry and alone, frightened. Then they offer to feed you and protect your interests. They provide position and privilege and even a sense of power. And then one day all they ask is for you to come to a little dedication party where you can learn your new god's name. It's simple, when the band plays all you have to do is dance. Offer a little thanks for what you have. It's easy because that old God of yours is really out-of-date like that tie that's too skinny or the dress that's ready for the "Cache." This new God is bigger and far more reliable, certainly more tangible. No more questions about what's the right thing to do. With your new God all you have to do is give a little curtsey. Memorize the directions and all will be well for your family, in your community, nation, and even in your church. But just in case you're not too comfortable with that and given the fact that you're here this morning is a good sign that you're not, then remember our story. Remember that there were two gods. One was about 9 feet wide and 90 feet tall located safe outside of a fiery furnace while the other seems to have taken on flesh and blood looking like the victims who seem to be walking instead of dancing. Walking right on top of those hot coals. And when you think about this old myth, you might just want to say, "Sorry, I don't dance."
Credit given to Barbara Brown Taylor.
Back to Past Sermons