The Music of the Spheres

Last March, I had the happy pleasure of attending a talk by Leila Lawler on the joy of community dances. It gave me much to think about. These were my thoughts that day in March jotted quickly down so I would not forget them, and I thought I’d share them here for you today to also to mull over. All things, natural and supernatural, truly are connected in astounding ways……

In older times, the Church was the center of a village or town. Many of the customs and festivals of the town grew organically out of the celebrations on the liturgical calendar - the circle of feasts, Solemnities, and times of penance and celebration that flow one into the other and back again in a great circle.

One of the things that was mentioned in the talk rather intrigued me. The folk dances performed by all the townspeople took their cue from the rubrics and movements the people saw when attending and watching the Mass as it was celebrated on its great Solemnities and even on ordinary days.

I have experience of this. The weaving in and out of priests and deacons at a Solemn High Mass certainly looks like a dance. They line up behind one another and as if on cue they turn and go their separate ways only to curve back and end up in a line again. The first time I saw it I was mesmerized. And I did think of it as a dance. Even the vestments sway in unison as they move. As a former play director, my immediate thought on experiencing the Tridentine liturgy was that it unfolded as a choreographed drama. And that this was a deliberate choice made for good liturgy.

The beauty of rules. The beauty of following a set of steps and turns and bows and genuflections that all have a meaning - meaning is the key. The movements are all metaphors for something else. And as we watch the Mass, we come to understand the Theology through the movement. And we rejoice in the beauty created by individuals practicing order and self control within the parameters of the rubrics. Something rather like Chesterton's example of being able to freely run and dance in a fenced in space because we know the limits. The rules. And within those rules, we rejoice because being sure of the limits we can confidently create many different and beautiful things.

A steady diet of watching and praying within this creative beauty of the Mass's liturgy leads to a creativity in the art of dance and perhaps also in the other arts - as singing in parts. So many folk dances weave in and out and return to where they started. There are centers and circles dancing around those centers and suddenly one circle merges with another and the circle is bigger. The patterns are quite beautiful when you watch a group of people dancing a reel perhaps or one of the more stately dances in their turn. The waltz itself is a couple dancing within its own circle but that circle is turning around the other couples' circles.

Beauty being woven by order and rules. We would tend to think the opposite in our times. That order and rules stultify creativity and joy. But you only have to dance a swing dance or a waltz or a contra dance to know that exuberance reigns within the steps faithfully learned.

This is a beautiful thought. That all these folk dances might have taken their cue and unfolded from attentively and consistently watching and praying with the rubrics of the Mass.

Someone even mentioned to me that their pastor recommended that the altar servers learn the folk dances at the parish parties. This would only make them better servers and, because they were good servers, they would be sought after dancers at the parties. It's a win/win as they say.

The final thought of the talk was also very beautiful. That our dancing in circles imitates the music of the spheres above us. That the planets were created by God to move about the sun in circles in proportion to it and to each other just as music is written and dance is achieved among dancers. It is like the Heavens and the Earth are dancing in tandem with one another. And that is a beautiful thought.

I have to think on this more, but it has opened many a door for me to walk through.

I do not feel inclined at this time to have a paid substack. But if we were together in a cafe discussing all these thoughts, I would not be opposed to you buying me a cup of coffee - with cream, of course. In that spirit, if any of my posts resonate with you and you feel so inclined, you can donate here: buymeacoffee.com/denise_trull