“Take more! Take more!” the wedding planner urged us, pushing the basket of rice and olive leaves closer.  My twelve year old son, dressed in a checkered plaid shirt and a bow-tie, looked at me with a glint in his eye.  I nodded and he took a massive handful of rice and tossed it toward the bride and groom, as the Priest led them three times around the communion table.  The Priest winked as he lifted the large Bible with ornate gold lettering and used it as a shield.  My girls, 11 and 5, their cheeks sunburned from the Greek sun, burst into giggles.

We were on an island in Greece, small enough that in spots you could look to your left and right and see the sparkling sea.  My brother (and the rest of us) had fallen in love with a girl who had deep family roots in the country.  She introduced us to a new culture that seemed too good to be true.  All week as we’d explored we found our bearings by locating the ancient Greek Orthodox Church high on the hill, with a grand zig-zag walkway leading to it.  On the day of the wedding we walked the path with my brother.  Then we waited as the rest of the guests accompanied his bride, who rode up on the back of the donkey.

 

The entire ceremony was deeply meaningful, but the part I need to tell you about is the Dance of Isaiah.  You see, here’s what I know about me and about you: We are people who hold onto grief in one hand and joy in the other.  The life we live each day doesn’t look like the life we imagined for ourselves.  And yet, we’re determined to hold them together, to examine what it means to live in the dichotomy of a life that doesn’t make sense on paper.

 

The Dance of Isaiah is a symbolic dance for the joy of God’s presence.  It doesn’t have any fancy steps or a catchy tune.  The bride and groom circle the altar three times while everyone else tosses (some more gently than others) rice and olive leaves toward them. In the background, a chanter sings in Greek, “Rejoice and dance, O Israel! The Virgin is with child, and shall bear a son Emmanuel, both God and man.”**

 

In that moment of watching two people I loved get married in the most beautiful place I’d ever been, it was easy to laugh and cheer.  But I don’t live my life on an island in Greece and honestly, I’m not always ready to rejoice and dance. I thought of Isaiah, who reminded his people, “But now, this is what the Lord says— He who created you, O Jacob, He who formed you, O Israel: ‘Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine.’ I imagine Isaiah lifting his pen at this point and pausing before he wrote the next line, in a different tense: “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you.  When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.  For I am the Lord, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.” (43:1-3)

 

Isaiah, who spoke truth to a nation who refused to listen to his words.  Isaiah, who prophesied Emmanuel (“God with us”), who would not be born until generations later.  Isaiah, who did not give up proclaiming hope to people, even in their rebellion and unbelief.  He reminded the people of who they were, of the truth that God spoke over them.  Grasping the truth of the past would make it possible to face the reality of the future. He danced in the joy of God’s presence, even if He didn’t necessarily feel like it.  Isaiah lived in the intersection of joy and grief.

 

And so can we. We can dance for joy even as we mourn, because His presence is always with us. We can grow our roots down deep, led by God, finding that in our weakness, His strength sustains us.  We don’t have to live in fear, because there is Jesus, who knows our name and awakens us to freedom.  He does not abandon us, even when we’ve abandoned Him.  He is faithful to us.

 

We can dance in the good and the bad, the hard and the easy, in the middle of the night and the dawn of a new day.  We can dance in the risk and the heartache, in the hope and the sorrow…. because in all these moments, He is here.  Take hold of the truth of the past and let it sustain you today, and in the days to come.

 

May the Son of God who is already formed in you grow in you—

so that for you He will become immeasurable, and that in you He will become

laughter, exultation, the fullness of joy which no one can take from you.

(Isaac of Stella)

** Here’s exactly what my sister-in-law wrote about the Dance of Isaiah in our English translation of the ceremony: “The procession, a symbolic dance for the joy of God’s presence, is conducted in a circular fashion around the altar.  Holding the Holy Gospel, the priest leads the couple who are still united by holding hands.  This highlights the Church’s prayerful desire that the couple will walk through life led by God and inspired by spirituality.  Each of the three walks symbolizes parts of this journey.  (1) The first, the joy in knowing there is a God (awakening and wishing for each other’s liberation). (2) The second recollects the martyrs of the Faith, who received their crowns of glory from God through sacrifice (the couple can learn from the martyrs and together work toward achieving enlightenment). (3) The third exalts the Holy Trinity (the union of the couple with the One, with All).  During this display of great joy, rice and flower petals are traditionally showered upon the couple by the guests so that their happiness may take root (the word for ‘root’ in Greek is the same as ‘rice’) in their married life and that true joy and a deep spiritual life (‘eudemonia’) may bloom in their journey.”