This cold, windy evening we went to the Crossing concert at our church. The darkened sanctuary was filled to Easter crowd size. The Crossing is an Irish band from Chicago associated with a hippie/commune church up there from what I can gather, so forgive me when I say that due to the “ministry” aspect we did not expect them to be very good the first time we saw them and were pleasantly surprised. This time, of course, we knew to expect quite a wonderful, unpreachy evening in the hands of good musicians and that’s what it was.
The seating area had been set to allow for a dancing space in front, and it wasn’t long before the all the kids through the teenagers and some brave and/or free-spirited adults were up there jumping around and twirling and conga-lining and what have you. At one point, coming off the dance floor between songs, our friends’ irrepressible little son shouted out, “This is SO FUN!” His grandma, Olene, who just got home from the rehab hospital following her knee replacement was there and later declared she was about ready to get up and dance, walker and all. Those of us who were too staid for dancing, clapped or listened and grinned and bobbed in our seats. We brought Dan’s girlfriend even though Dan himself had to work tonight.
For millenia, people have known how to weave music and dancing and celebrations into the fabric of tragic times. Tonight felt like that–our church has supported various members through some very tough times recently, and it seems to have made people draw closer to each other and to God–I know that’s been my response. So tonight was wonderful, just for fun. How much more fun it would have been with Guinness on tap we’ll never know!