My Dancing Day

“Tomorrow shall be my dancing day” is a traditional Christmas carol that may date back to the 14th century. It is unusual in that its creators imagined Our Lord singing the song Himself and characterizing both His life and eternal life in heaven as a dance. Unsurprisingly, composers have delighted in scoring new tunes for the lyrics. Here is Wiki on the subject.

As I have mentioned before, pilgrims of the Middle Ages danced in churches; indeed, there is a long history of extra-liturgical devotional dance. This, naturally, did not consist of ladies in leotards miming the Gospel: as far as I can find out, they consisted of men and women holding hands and dancing in a circle.

On Sunday there was some dancing of this type, for in the absence of our ceilidh expert, I attempted to explain how to perform the Dashing White Sergeant, and this begins with groups of six people holding hands and dancing in a circle. And although the Dashing White Sergeant (1926) was not created for devotional purposes, I think its performance could be a work of God: it is something we do together to express and create joy. We honour Scottish culture (and thus, for some of us, our ancestors) and thus honour the country in which we live, and we honour each other–first our partners, and then the advancing line of three.

(The above is the super-correct Royal Scottish Country Dancing Society version.)

The dance parties of Mrs McLean’s Waltzing Party take place on Sunday afternoons after Holy Mass and after the After-Mass Tea and Coffee. Originally they took place in the parish once the tables and chairs were cleared away, but as the parish rooms are too small, I began to rent a hall around the corner and down the street.

There is a flow between the activities: first Mass in the church, then shared refreshments next door, then a walk to the former Presbyterian church. We begin the party with the Prayer to St. Michael, and then there is a lesson in one dance form. There is a break, and then a lesson in another dance form. Then there is 20 minutes of “free dance”, that is, a break in which gentlemen may ask ladies to dance, or not, as they choose. The lull ends with Strip the Willow–the traditional last dance of a Scottish ceilidh–and then the Marian anthem of the season.

This Sunday, however, Vespers was added to the activities, for our kind priest rescheduled it so that the dancers could attend. And this added a new stop, or site of pilgrimage, to the day, as the chapel is geographically “on the way home” for most of us. Thus, our procession from home to church to hall to chapel to home was itself a kind of circle dance (minus holding hands), with devotional prayers at every stop. Very beautifully, we sang Ave Regina Caelorum three times: during Mass, during the dance party, and then during Vespers.

“This is how every Sunday should be spent,” said a newcomer during a break in the dance party and asked in a determined fashion what obstacles were preventing it.

The difficulty of finding teachers. The expense of renting halls. The challenge of attracting enough women (a problem apparently unique to the Edinburgh TLM community). But, above all, Lent, for Lent approaches, the Alleluia has been buried, and our boys are staunch. Dancing in Lent? Niedobrze.

However, Lent is not yet here, and we have another dance party next Sunday. Our kind priest won’t reschedule Vespers again, but he has suggested we come to Compline. Therefore we will have another devotional “circle dance” from home to church to hall to chapel to home before Ash Wednesday.

Meanwhile, this particular party was attended by 10 men and boys, 5 women (including me) and a girl (who opts not to waltz), so each follower alternated between two leads. The teacher began with the box step, then added basic floorcraft (dancing around the room), the natural turn, the reverse turn, and the whisk-chasse-promenade. It all called for strict attention, and we laughed when the teacher directed us to apologize to our partners in advance.

After the break, we did a review of Men Asking Women To Dance, which is to get new men used to the scary necessity and to explain why women should not ask men to dance (a subject for another post). Then I directed the Gay Gordon–which was a personal first–and then (with badly needed help) the Dashing White Sergeant.

Then there was the “free dance,” beginning with two waltzes–the first being The Road and Miles to Dundee (which Mr McLean sang) and the second being Much Too Fast to dance with an actual man, however fine it felt by myself in my dining room. There followed two spritely swing tunes--Bill Bailey and (chanteuse in short skirt so be warned before you click:) Na Pierwszy Znak (“At the first sign”)–and then two slower waltzes. Another jazz song popped up, but we were running out of time, so I interrupted it for Strip the Willow. Mr McLean drove his wheelchair from his station at the refreshments table to led the hymn at the end.

Then there was chatting and cleaning up and packing the refreshments bag and offerings of donations and discussion of dance technique and my fruitless warnings about the advent of the janitor. And, finally, some loped off for their buses and others processed down the street, around the corner, and down the major street towards Vespers.

It was a great success and I was very thankful. Above all, I was thankful for the other women, for although girls will dance with girls (and always have), our men won’t dance with men unless I invoke the spirits of the 51st Highland Division imprisoned in Oflag VII-C, which so far works only for Strip the Willow.