BORED OF THE DANCE

It looks like I finally went a little overboard broadening my horizons. We went to see Lord of the Dance in the cultural mecca of Butte, MT, home of Montana's only Superfund site, the Berkley Pit, whose cobalt blue water kill migratory birds that land in it.

I suppose I enjoyed Mamma Mia! so much because I was expecting nothing out of it anyway. I was anticipating Lord of the Dance, however. We’ve got some Irish blood in the family tree somewhere, between a whole bunch of Germans on one side and a couple of Englishmen in the woodpile on the other side. I’m told it takes ten generations to dilute Irish blood sufficiently that one no longer feels the call of the Ould Sod.

So I went to the Lord of the Dance with much anticipation, in large part because I really love the song by that same name. I sometimes listen to the music of the Irish Rovers, and developed great affection for the song itself. I left the dance very disappointed, all because of that song.

Yes, it was a musical extravaganza. Yes, the Irish dance with the clogging was amazing. Yes, the performers were incredible athletes and even the smallest woman among them could kick my ass in a heartbeat. Yes, the sights and sounds and light show were awesome. Yes, the fiddlers were some of the most talented musicians I’ve ever seen. Yes, all the dances were absolutely brilliantly choreographed.

The performance had all these Celtic runes and mythical stuff and hooded figures and a "Dark Lord" and the struggle between good & evil. They even played the song Lord of the Dance during one dance, and the little glittery sprite or nymph or whatever she was supposed to be played a few bars on her flute occasionally. But in the grand scheme of things, it had nothing whatsoever to do with the real Lord of the Dance.

The song Lord of the Dance celebrates the birth, life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, the real Messiah, (whom folks used to worship instead of Chicago politicians) the ultimate in the struggle between Good and Evil. In this odious day and age in which we live, however, it has become a hate crime to even mention Jesus Christ in public, even on his birthday (which is Christmas; some people don’t know that anymore). Unless of course you’re a Muslim or atheist berating the Church he founded, then you can mention Him and his followers. It’s painfully obvious that you can’t celebrate Him in song or dance in public in America.

So, my friends, here is the real Lord of the Dance, as performed by the Irish Rovers.

I danced on the morning when the world began
I danced on the moon, and the stars, and the sun
I came out of Heaven and I danced on the earth
In Bethlehem I had my birth

(Refrain)
Dance, dance, wherever you may be
I am the Lord of the Dance said He
And I lead you all wherever you may be
And I lead you all the in the dance said He

I danced for the scribes and the Pharisees
They would not dance and they would not follow me
I danced for the fishermen James and John
They came with me and the dance went on

(Refrain)

I danced on the Sabbath and I cured the lame
The holy people thought it was a shame
They cut me and they stripped me and they hung me high
And left me there on a cross to die

(Refrain)

I danced on the Friday when the sky turned black
It’s hard to dance with the devil on your back
They buried my body; thought I'd gone
But I am the dance, and the dance goes on

(Refrain)

Well they cut me down, but I leapt up high
I am the light that will never never die
I live in you and you live in me
I am Lord of the Dance said He

(Refrain)