Not as in wantonness

As I have a look online (and write emails to professors), I come across anecdotes about third and fourth century bishops (Methodius of Olympus, Epiphanies of Salamis, Gregory Theumaturgus, St. Basil the Great) who wrote about joyful Christian dancing with approval, and stories about saints who danced.

The dancing saint most cited is St. Teresa of Avila (1515 – 1582), who is said to have danced with her nuns, clicking castanets or banging a tambourine. As St. Teresa of Jesus was a reformer, this anecdotal evidence is all the more heartening. This Carmelite dancing was, of course, an expression of joy, but it was allegedly also recommended by Teresa as a means to dispel gloom.

Then there is, very tangentially, a suggestion in Thomas of Celano’s 1246 biography that St. Francis of Assisi (1181 – 1226) once danced with joy while preaching to Pope Honorius:

73. But once, when he had come to Rome on business of the Order, he greatly longed to speak before the Lord Pope Honorius and the venerable Cardinals.⁴⁶ When the Lord Hugo, the glorious Bishop of Ostia, who revered the Saint of God with singular affection understood this, he was filled with apprehension as well as joy, admiring the fervor of the holy man, and beholding his simple purity.⁴⁷ But trusting in the mercy of the Almighty, which never fails in time of need those who piously wait upon it, he brought Francis into the presence of the Lord Pope and the reverend Cardinals, and Francis, standing before these great princes, after receiving [the Pope’s] permission and blessing, boldly began to speak. And such was the fervor of his spirit as he spoke that, unable to contain himself for joy, as he uttered the words with his mouth he moved his feet as if dancing, not as in wantonness, but as glowing with the fire of Divine love; not provoking laughter, but extorting tears of grief. For many of them were pricked at the heart as they wondered at God’s grace and the steadfastness of the man. But the venerable Lord Bishop of Ostia was in an agony of suspense, praying to God with all his might that the simplicity of the blessed man might not be despised: for the Saint’s glory or disgrace would rebound on him since he had been appointed a father over the Saint’s family,⁴⁸

I am not sure what “wantonness” means in this context, but from what I have read so far, there has always been a tension in the Church between the joyful dancing epitomized by King David and the immodest (wanton) dancing of Salome. The problem is sorting out, for every era, which is which.

There is usually a reluctance among Catholic moralists to condemn dancing entirely, which is just as well as the Bible is full of references to the terpsichorean art. Moses’ sister Miriam danced, King David danced, the guests celebrating the return of the Prodigal Son danced. History relates that the Hebrews of first century Palestine danced, and if I can find any proof that their men and women (even if just members of the same family) ever joined hands together and skipped about in a circle, I shall wave it about like a Morris dancer’s hankie.

Meanwhile, I found qualifications galore in the famous strictures of the Second Plenary Council of Baltimore (1868). Here’s a text that has been bandied about, with highlighting of the parts that interest me most:

We consider it to be our duty to warn our people against those amusements which may easily become to them an occasion of sin, and especially against those ​fashionable dances​, which, as at present carried on, are revolting to every feeling of decency [and] propriety, and are fraught with the greatest dangers to morals.”

Let them ATTACK and BOLDLY condemn immodest dances, which are becoming more and more common every day. Let them admonish the faithful how much they sin, not only against God, but against society, against their families and against themselves, who take part in these dances or at least seem to countenance them by their presence. Let them teach parents particularly of how grievous a judgment they become guilty if they expose their young sons and daughters to the danger of losing purity, and innocence of mind by allowing them to be thus entrapped in the snares of the devil.

I don’t know enough about the circumstances of 1868 to really dig into this, but if 21st century bishops had written it, our minds would immediately go to those fashionable dances of OUR day which, as at present carried on, are revolting to OUR every feeling of decency and propriety and FOR US are fraught with the greatest danger to morals.

The most obvious one is grinding, but there is also the hug-and-rock-from-side-to-side ritual that teenagers everywhere call “the slow dance.” The first definitely revolts contemporary Christian feelings of decency and propriety. The second is such an obvious danger to morals, it blows my mind that Catholic schools have allowed it at dances for decades. Clearly we should not encourage “dirty dancing” either by frequenting the dives where it occurs or buying tickets to see the famous do it, abandoning family at home to partake.

Pondering the loathsome gyrations of our day, we are shocked to discover that the immodest fashionable dances of the 1860s were probably waltzes and polkas. (One can only imagine what the Council would think if they dropped by the average discotheque today.) However, I see that the Council of Baltimore doesn’t condemn the “fashionable” dances outright; it hedges with the expression “at present.” The Council seems to believe that the fashionable dances could be accommodated to feelings of decency and propriety later.

That later is now.

There are a number of people, places and activities today that are clearly an occasion for sin for some, and perhaps even most, people. My argument is that this is almost never going to be dancing a waltz, polka or foxtrot in the company of fellow Catholics in a church hall at 10 PM. Only the very unfortunate could sin against God, society, family and themselves simply by attending such an innocent, joyous gathering.

What constitutes an occasion for sin changes from person to person (for example, some men and women can never, ever be around children) and from culture to culture. It might be an occasion of sin to a Christian man from the Middle East to visit Edinburgh’s Portobello Beach on a hot day. However, I daresay that few Christians brought up in Scotland’s Central Belt would be at all disturbed by the ladies, old or young, sunning themselves like seals on the bladderwrack-strewn sand.