DANCE in Andalusia, not Words...

When a reporter asked Anna Sokalow what her dance meant, she responded by saying, "If I could have said it, I wouldn't have danced it."
Several people from my Andalusia course have requested that I display videos of the dances of Andalusia on my page. So, rather than writing about history, ideology, or even the sacred, I offer you some links to the dances of Andalusia...
As mentioned in prior blogs, the dance of Andalusia (flamenco) stems from "belly dance." Here is an example of a "belly" dance closely tied to the flamenco. Notice how the music, stomping, and hand/arm motions are similar to flamenco.
Compare the "belly" dance origins with this flamenco dance.
Another beautiful example is this Andalusian flamenco dance with scarves.
What better way to learn about the dances of Andalusia than to watch them?!

Sacred Dance of Andalusia...and San Antonio

In search of the religious roots embedded in the dance of Andalusia (flamenco), I stumbled across the Fiesta Mass at San Fernando Cathedral in San Antonio, TX. After researching and watching a video of the Fiesta Mass, I cannot think of a place where the hermeneutic of Andalusia is more present than at the San Fernando Cathedral.

First, Harvard University features the congregation at San Fernando Cathedral as a part of their Pluralism Project, noting that the church is committed to interreligious dialogue, a key attribute of an Andalusian hermeneutic. The congregation is involved in an annual Thanksgiving Day service where flamenco dancers are a vital part of the liturgy and participants from various faith traditions are represented as worship leaders: Buddhists, Sikhs, Muslims, Baha'is, Hindus and Christians.

Furthermore, the Cathedral incorporates flamenco dance into several services throughout the liturgical year. From a celebratory and colorful flamenco mass on the Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe at the beginning of Advent to a dark and somber flamenco dance on Good Friday, where the dancers processed in with Our Lady of Sorrows, the dance of Andalusia (and also San Antonio it appears!) is interwoven throughout the service. The dance, music, clapping, stomping, and costuming involved in flamenco are all a part of the mass.

A newspaper reporter notes: “San Fernando Cathedral is home to the Flamenco Mass and many public rituals and celebrations of Mexican Catholic faith. It mirrors the emotional Latino experience of the Liturgy, and deepens the congregations' involvement in the Mass, by bringing passion, life and movement inside the Cathedral. Though some might think that the church is no place for dancing, Father Empereur disagrees-he says that the dignified nature of Flamenco dance conveys soul, depth and emotion to the service, deepening and revitalizing the experience of mass for his parishioners.”

It’s fascinating and encouraging to the think that there are little pockets of Andalusia throughout the world—sacred spaces that, though they may face controversy, still embrace a variety of religious traditions and the dances that accompany them!

Interconnectivity: the Dance of Andalusia

The “colorful history of oriental dance” notes that between 800-900 C.E. it is believed that a second migratory route left the Punjabi region of India down to and across North Africa (including Egypt) and up into Southern Spain—Andalusia—through the Straights of Gibraltar. These people are believed to be members of the “Untouchables,” a group within the Indian caste system comprised of animal traders and trainers, acrobats, dancers, musicians, palmists and metalworkers. This faction, known as “Cale,” has been far more difficult to verify and trace due to the great similarity of appearance and lifestyle to the indigenous peoples along the route.

During this migration process, the flamenco dance developed. This dance is accompanied by a particular style of flamenco music. The strongest influences evident in the evolution of Flamenco singing and music can be traced from:

• Punjabi singing of India
• Persian Zyriab song form
• Classical Andalusian Orchestras of the Islamic Empire
• Jewish Synagogue Chants
• Mozarabic forms such as Zarchyas and Zambra
• Arabic Zayal which themselves are the foundation for Fandangos
• Andalusian regional folk forms
• Western African influences via the slaves of the New World Caribbean, Central and South American colonies. These include Rumba, Garotin, Guajiras, Columbianas, etc.

It is evident here that Andalusia was not only a seat of interreligious living between Jews, Christians, and Muslims, but also many other cultures and religions, and these cultures and religions influenced flamenco music and dance. This is also evident in flamenco dance forms, namely the very strong resemblance to East Indian dance is seen in the Katak, NianiPuri, Kathakal and Bharatanatyam forms. Elements such as the deep-seated plea, outturned leg position, sharp angles of the body and arms, splayed fingers, rapid barrel turns and, most certainly, the percussive foot movements are all evident in flamenco dance. This dance, in 2/4 time, combined elements of Andalusian folk dance with Arabic elements, such as finger cymbals, tambourines and atypical theatrical costuming.

Additionally, the “colorful history of oriental dance” has maintained that the “gypsies have no true religious beliefs,” and no music of their own, so successfully have they taken on the flavor of each culture where they have lived. However, in reality their entire culture centers around shamanistic beliefs in the spirits that dwell in nature, a distinct remnant of Central Asian shamanistic beliefs. Gypsies believe that certain demons and spirits hold sway over each individual's daily life. For example the Gypsy artist must wait and hope for his personal "duende" or demon, to enter into him and flood him with inspiration before achieving true artistry, even when he/she must perform to eat. Thus, the entertainment of Gadjo becomes a game of fooling the uninformed that the spirit has entered the performer even when it has not. This deep emotion helped create in Andalusia the "cante jondo" or deep song, which contrasts to the lighter "canto flamenco.” Flamenco dance styling has a distinct similarity to classical Persian dance, as well as modern Central Asian dance, in the distinctive use of arms and the high body center. Whereas modern Arabic dance centers its moves in the abdomen and keeps the arms mostly at shoulder level, both Flamenco and Persian dance center the weight in the chest and use the maximum amount of space above the head to perform graceful and effect arm and hand movements.

Gypsy dancing is never "just to be dancing,” comments Gypsiologist Barbara Sellers. "Instead it seems to be part of an immense and significant non-verbal vocabulary of Gypsy communication and behavior. It is at the heart of an essential transformation, a transcended state, an escape from the reality of their daily lives to a more satisfying state of mind". This is especially important to remember because “oriental dance” is consistently related to both religion and eroticism in various contexts.

Search for the Divine Dance in Andalusia...Continued...

My search for the divine dance of Andalusia continues…

In addition to Iris Stewart’s research, Wendy Buonaventura also chronicles the history of so-called “belly dancing,” noting that this style of dance travels from India into the Middle East and as far as Spain. This dance form was spread through the travels of “gypsies” where, in the case of Andalusia, the “belly” dance evolved into flamenco. Buonaventura aptly notes that the flamenco also “includes the manipulation of veils, thrusting hips and a rapid stamping close the ground, which again creates a subtle shimmy. In flamenco, though, the shimmy is hardly noticeable, for our attention is fixed on the dancer’s proud arms and dramatic stamping feet.”[1]

According to Habiba Studios: Dances of the Near East, the Andalusian dancer is known as “jariya,” or slave girls who performed in the noble houses of Andalusian Spain and throughout the Arab world. Jariya is based on the classical music and dance that originated in Andalusian Spain and traveled to North Africa when the Arabs were expelled. The dance emphasizes the elegant arm and hand movements of the court dancer. Again, the serpentine arm movements are echoed, as in “belly” dance and flamenco.

Furthermore, though not in academic discourse, travel guides advertise flamenco as the dance of Andalusia. Bob Martin notes that flamenco blends influences, the earliest of which came from Hindu dances, the threnodies of Greek mourners and the mimes of Imperial Rome.[2]

It is ostensible that the commonly known “belly” dance has sacred origins stemming from fertility, birthing, and goddess worship, illustrating the connections to sacred sexuality. It is also clear that “belly” dancing paved the way for flamenco in Andalusia, possibly incorporating some of these sacred gestures into the dance form. The question I now have is: Does flamenco have sacred ties today and how are these sacred origins manifested in the dances of Andalusia? Is the Andalusian dance viewed differently by Jews, Christians, and Muslims? Why or why not?

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[1] Wendy Buonaventura, Belly Dancing: The Serpent and the Sphinx (London: Virago Press, 1983), 6.

[2] Bob Martin, “Flamenco: The Dance of Andalusia,” [accessed October 13, 2007 at http://www.inquisitivetraveler.com/pages/artlib/flamenco.html

Searching for the Divine Dance in Andalusia...

I am currently taking an online course on Andalusia: Jewish, Christian, Muslim Dialogue with Dr. Ibrahim Farajaje at GTU’s SKSM, a Unitarian Universalist school. One of the assignments is to blog about the course materials, my reactions, and how I can use a hermeneutic of Andalusia in a particular area of focus. As this is my first time taking an online course, and blogging is still fairly new for me, I begin with slight reservation due to the fear that I am doing it all incorrectly…

So, with that said, I believe I shall identify my area of focus. Broadly speaking, my focus is “sacred” dance as a form of interreligious dialogue. The more I research, the more this will narrow. As I have written and researched substantially regarding dance as a form of interreligious dialogue between these three monotheistic religions, I shall attempt to focus on the dances that are and were present in Andalusia, Spain.

When first thinking of these religious traditions, I assume that Jewish circle dance and forms of “liturgical” (for lack of a better word in this instance) Christian dance were present, potentially accompanied with Muslim whirling and “belly” dance. These are merely hypotheses as I begin. I am certain that flamenco was present to some extent and the sacred components of this dance form (if there are any) are what I am in the beginning phases of exploring.

Interestingly, Iris Stewart highlights flamenco as an “other belly dance tradition”[1] after she details the sacred goddess origins of the “belly dance,” paying careful attention to the role of the womb and birthing process in connection with this dance form. Stewart notes that flamenco incorporates some of the serpentine arm patterns and hip rotations seen in various versions of belly dance. She explains that this stems from a variety of sources, including Hindu Romany, who settled in the caves of Sacromonte and mixed with the Mozarab, a community of Arab/Berber Moores, Jews, and Iberians in the 8^th-9^th centuries CE. They brought these dance combinations, mixed with Arabic melodic themes, to ANDALUSIA, incorporating many traditional characteristics of Spanish dancing. Further, the Houara tribe in Morocco perform a dance today that is rumored to be the mother of flamenco.

These are merely the beginnings of insights and meager research. However, I find it fascinating that a brief section of a chapter on what Stewart titles “womandance” (commonly known as belly dance) manages to quantify so many complexities addressed in the many readings regarding Moores, Arabs, Berbers, Jews, and Morocco. Again, it is reiterated that there is not a monolithic approach to history—be that history of a geographical location, group of people, religious group/s, or even a dance form. Each are far more interconnected and complex than they appear on the surface.

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[1] Iris Stewart, Sacred Woman, Sacred Dance (Rochester: Inner Traditions, 2000), 90. All subsequent references in this blog stem from Stewart’s work.

Blurry Controversy

I feel a little behind the times in my post today. Since mid July, Baptists have been discussing…debating…responding to the New Baptist Covenant’s decision to exclude the Association of Welcoming and Affirming Baptists and the Baptist Peace Fellowship of North America from the Covenant’s invitation list due to the fact that these organizations are not a part of the North American Baptist Fellowship.

See http://www.abpnews.com/2675.article

Since this decision came to light, and since this article was written in July, other Baptists have responded, choosing and/or blurring sides. Blogger Theofragen aptly addressed some of these issues in his “Old Wine in New Wineskins Makes a Mess” blog in July. See http://theofragen.com/?m=200707

Even the Washington Post, with comments from GTU’s own Jay Johnson, wrote an article that, though it does not mention the New Baptist Covenant, touches on these divisive and deep-rooted issues. See http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/08/18/AR2007081801167_pf.html

As an ordained minister who serves in an American Baptist congregation that finds ourselves more in line with AWAB and BPFNA than any other organization, I must say that the entire situation has thrown me in a bit of a tizzy. So, I’ve spent the past few months marinating on these issues, acknowledging the possibility that New Baptist Covenant leaders were in a bit of loose-loose situation, while at the same time knowing that such a Baptist event has a responsibility to include ALL people at the table. In these months I have spent considerable time talking about these very controversies with congregants and friends who are part of the African American community and/or part of the LGBTQ community. So, I’ve pushed aside my feminist desire to write about the absurdities that surround Southwestern Seminary’s launch of a homemaking degree that puts women in our “proper and biblical place” (I know, I know…more old news). And, instead, I’ve embraced my feminist desire that demands equality and justice for all people and attempted to address the myriad of issues touched upon in the above articles.

And after all of that, I still find myself in a tizzy. In my experience thus far, I have found that the New Baptist Covenant is something exciting that I want to be a part of. But exclusion is not something that interests me. While I can say that I don’t think “exclusion” was the intention, I can certainly see how excluding it may feel for churches affiliated with AWAB and BPFNA. So, I ramble on and on without any kind of conclusion or solution.

Throughout these past three months, however, the words that emerged in the forefront of my mind are the words from the Day of Silence in April 2007. One of my students at church participated in this movement. As a response I blogged about it; my blog became a newsletter article at our church and I have decided to recount it again below:

Impressed: Katy’s Day of Silence (April 18, 2007)

It takes a lot to impress me. Overall I would describe myself as skeptically optimistic. I always question why people do things the way they do. This can often spill over into my viewing heart-felt emotions as mushy-gushy emotionalism, which probably isn’t really too fair of me. I’m a doubter, a skeptic, a cynic.

So, I was somewhat surprised at my reaction to the protest imbued in one of my fourteen year-old students today. While I enjoy my jobs, I often listen to the words of young students with an ear of jaded skepticism, knowing that their young feelings ebb and flow like the Bay Area weather, changing with each day and moment. This is not to say that I don’t think they’re sincere. I simply acknowledge that they are probably also fickle, just as I was at their age.

Today, however, I was struck by the words—or silence, rather—of one of my students.

She walked in and handed me a folded piece of notebook paper. I asked her what it was and she simply nodded, indicating that I should read it. I honestly thought that she had laryngitis and was unable to talk. Perhaps I should preface her folded notebook paper by saying that she’s a talker, quite a talker. In fact, Katy may possibly talk more than any teen I’ve ever met. She’s constantly in good cheer: laughing, talking, and telling stories. So, her silence was out of character, jarring even.

I unfolded her notebook paper and written on it, in bubbly teenage handwriting, were these words:

Day of Silence

I am participating in the day of silence, a youth movement protesting the silence faced by lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender people and their allies. My silence echoes that silence, which is caused by harassment, prejudice, and discrimination. I believe that silence is the first step toward fighting these injustices. Think about the voices you aren’t hearing today.

I told Katy that I would honor her silence, that I was proud of her for standing up for what she believes in, and that I think it takes a strong and bold person to do something like this in a middle school or youth group, particularly when I know how much she likes to talk. She nodded, smiled, folded her notebook paper back up, and placed the paper in her pocket. Throughout the evening she handed several people that sheet of notebook paper, including the pastor of our Baptist church. Like me, our pastor and the rest of our staff, agree with Katy’s silent sentiments, as we seek to affirm, welcome, and stand in solidarity with persons in the LGBT community.

Perhaps my student was simply doing what everyone else at school was doing. Perhaps I misunderstood peer pressure for heart-felt conviction. Or perhaps the fourteen year-old Katy reminded me that jaded skepticism is sometimes incorrect.

Al Mohler and Pat Robertson may mar the historical Baptist name. But it is people like Katy Duran who are reclaiming it, reminding us that Baptist and fundamentalist don’t have to mean the same thing. Rather, what it means for every person to be a priest is that every person has a right to stand for what he or she believes is true and just. Every person, no matter their age, sexual preference, gender orientation, or nationality, has the right to have access to the divine, however they see divinity made manifest. Today divinity was made manifest for me in the silent handwriting of a fourteen year-old middle school student named Katy.

When Baptists Dance

I’m sure you’ve all heard the old joke:

One day a Baptist professor was walking through the seminary campus when he stumbled across a couple rustling around in the bushes. The professor asked the students what they were doing and they responded, “Having sex.”

The professor left relieved, saying, “Good! I thought you were dancing!”

The old stereotype goes: Baptists don’t drink, swear, or dance. Baptists do not dance.

I must admit, that as an Associate Pastor of Arts [read dance and visual arts] and Education, pursuing doctoral work in dance in comparative religion, I receive my fair share of raised eyebrows from those who hold fast to this traditional stereotype.

I’m not certain at this point what the New Baptist Covenant has to say about dancing Baptists, but this Baptist cannot help but talk about the dance…

Baptists do not dance…but I, an ordained Baptist minister, am also a professional dancer.

In an effort to debunk stereotypes, allow me to elaborate:

Dance is a part of my world, it’s what I do, it’s how I am trained. To forsake dance, particularly in religious settings, is to neglect a vital part of who I am.

I understand, however, that such is not the case for most people, most Baptists. And, as of late, some questions have been asked, some quandaries made about what exactly it means for Baptists to dance.

So, though I sincerely wish to detail the history of dance in the church, highlighting meticulously the role of dance in scripture, its theological implications, and role of dance in virtually every world religion, I will refrain from the minute and dorky details that would bore most and, instead, share a sweeping overview, an introduction to dance and religion, for any Baptists dancing neophytes that may be interested…

Dance and movement are the oldest art forms, primal to humanity’s existence as we were able to use the instrument of the body for expression, ritual, and worship before we had such capacities to even invent other instruments of praise. I would contend that such is evident where heel prints are found at the foot of Upper Paleolithic cave paintings, indicating perhaps a ritual spinning movement, now echoed by such groups as the Mevlevi Order (commonly known as whirling dervishes).

We read of dance as a form of worship over 27 times in the Hebrew Bible, illustrating dance as a medium for expressing lament (Judges 11), praise (Psalm 149-150), victory (Exodus 15:20, I Sam. 18:6), or procession (II Sam. 6:14-16). Pillars of biblical faith, David, Miriam, and Judith danced. In addition there are 10 Hebrew verb forms for dance found in the Hebrew bible. The ancient Israelites, upon which our Christian tradition stands, were a kinesthetic people as dance was ingrained in their worship. The words we translate as “worship” (used 170xs) or “praise” (used over 70xs) literally mean to “prostrate, bow down” [shachah], “to confess with outstretched hands” [yadah], or “to kneel and bless” [barak].

Further, in the New Testament, dance is continually prevalent as the Greek word we translate as “exceedingly glad or joyful” [agaillo] literally means “with much leaping.” Dance and joy, therefore, were synonymous; worshippers were jumping for joy, if you will.

In the apocryphal Acts of John 94-95, Jesus leads the disciples in a ring dance, singing, “Grace dances, dance ye all…The number 12 dances on high. The whole on high has part in our dance. Who so dances not, knows not what is to come.”

Most of these dances that we find in scripture are not so much performance pieces or sporadic expressions, but were simple and communal dances that all people could participate in.

As the church continued to grow, countless church “fathers” advocated dance as means for worship. (I’m sure many church “mothers” did, too, but their voices weren’t too valued or recorded then):

• Clement of Alexandria (150-216) in Address to the Heathens “This is the mountain beloved of God…and there revel on it…daughters of God, the fair lambs, who celebrate the holy rites of the Word, raising a sober choral dance.”
• Ambrose requested that persons about to be baptized approach the font dancing.
• Hippolytus’s Easter hymn of praise: “O thou leader of the mystic round dance!”
• Eusebius of Caesarea (264?-339) “With dances and hymns, in city and country, they glorified first of all God the universal King.”
• Jerome (340-407) “In the Church the joy of the spirit finds expression in bodily gestures and her children shall say with David as they dance the solemn step: ‘I will dance and play before the face of the Lord.’”
• Basil the Great (344-407) “We remember those who now, together with the Angels, dance the dance of the Angels around God, just as in the heavenly dance…Could there be anything more blessed than to imitate on earth the ring-dance of the angels and at dawn to raise our voices in prayer and by hymns and song glorify the rising Creator.”
• Gregory of Nyssa in Homily on the Psalms “Once there was a time when the whole of rational creation formed a single dancing chorus looking upwards to the one leader of this dance. And the harmony of that motion which was imparted to them by reason of his law found its way into their dancing.”
• Augustine (354-430) “He who dances obeys…In our case dancing means changing the manner of our life…when God called the tune, he [sic] hearkened and began to dance.”

In the early Medieval period, Archbishop Isidore of Seville composed sacred choreography incorporated into the Mozarabic Rite that is STILL celebrated 3xs/yr in the Cathedral of Seville. In the late Medieval period cloistered nuns danced on the Feasts of Holy Innocents and priests danced on the Feast of St. Nicholas. During this time Dante described dancing as the “occupation of those in paradise” and labyrinth dances flourished in church courtyards. During the Renaissance, Martin Luther, 1525, admonished dance in his carol “On Heaven High” and Cardinal Borromeo, 1610, commissioned a dance for the canonization of Ignatius of Loyola. In the Post Reformation period, Jesuits were responsible for establishing the traditional 5 ballet positions still utilized as formative ballet technique and prevalent in their moral ballets.

Of course, dance also received criticism and those in power often tried to confine worshippers to seats—static, using only eyes, ears, and voice, and neglecting the body. Amidst these condemnations it behooves us to remember, however, the many other things critiqued or condemned by the church throughout history: art, musical instruments, lay participation, women as leaders, or ministers having the right to marry or have sex.

Dance as sacred worship continued into modernity with the religious works of modern dance icons, such as Isadora Duncan, Ruth St. Denis, Ted Shawn, and Martha Graham—founders of the Church of the Dance, and contributors to the establishment of the Dances of Universal Peace. These dancers, philosophers in their own right, understood that the body and the soul are not mutually exclusive, but united in offering praise to God.

Today groups, such as the Sacred Dance Guild (which celebrates its 50^th anniversary in February), continue this sacred dancing legacy.

Pentecostals dance in the spirit.

Buddhists “swallow darkness” through Butoh dance.

Praise Dance flourishes in many African American churches.

Hindus dance through kathak.

Liturgical dance brings together all levels of ability and technique in “liturgical churches.”

Sufi Muslims whirl to remember the center of all life.

Orthodox Christians tripudium around icons.

Native Americans dance to invoke the great spirit.

Congregants at Shell Ridge Community Church, an American Baptist congregation, dance hand-in-hand during Sunday morning worship.

Dancers of all traditions—even Baptists—pay homage to what is sacred by offering to God our bodies as living sacrifices; for this is our spiritual act of worship (Romans 12:1).

I know I’ll be dancing during the New Baptist Covenant…here’s hoping some other Baptists will join me.