At some point in our lives in the guise of decorum, adulthood, whatever, many of us simply stop dancing in the sprinkler. We may, in those delightful moments when our inner child takes over, take a mad run through a sprinkler as we pass by some yard or field, but it is a rare thing to stop and dance. There are places like Fisher Fountain in Seattle, the Central Square in Bern, and the plaza outside the UN in Geneva near the giant chair, where the water features call our name and invite everyone who passes by, at the very least, to stop and watch; mesmerized by the way the water dances before us, most can’t help but get at least a little wet. In places like those the rules don’t apply in the same way because it’s just what everyone does like some spell that is cast over the place which suspends the rules and rids us of our inhibitions. Yesterday I watched as my daughter ran through the sprinkler and slid time after time on a makeshift slip and slide. I will confess that if I didn’t think it would have ripped I would have tried the slip and slide, but there was this hesitation that can’t be quantified, but which kept me on the sidelines. I thought about it all night and when today my daughter invited me to come dance in the front yard to the tune of our brand new spinning turtle sprinkler, I was ready. For nearly an hour we ran, we jumped, we cartwheeled, and we danced in that sprinkler. We weren’t sheltered in the backyard where even the most conservative of dads (which to be fair is a label that has never been applied to me) can always make fools of themselves for their children, we were in the front yard in plain sight, but we didn’t care. When we are willing to give ourselves over to the delight of being silly it brings a freedom like almost nothing else. it made me want to build a feature like the ones in Bern and Geneva where even the dignitaries (I have no proof of this, but I hope for world leaders outside the UN willing to dance in the water) can be as unpretentious as a child seeking joy. I am thankful for my daughter’s invitation to join the revelry of the sprinkler dance and I hope if you are reading this, you too will find your inner child and take the chance to dance. There are much worse things than getting wet for fun and I for one prefer to be a fool for joy over what ever it is we’re “supposed’ to be for decorum. There is nothing like the tune of the sprinkler dance and the rhythm is guaranteed to energize the soul.

The Reverend Kenneth Ransfer of Greater Mt. Baker Baptist Church in Seattle brought his own organist to accompany his sermon for the AME Annual Conference Ecumenical worship. His message hit many crescendos, but none more delightful or moving than when nearing the climax he burst into a song which turned into a medley and ended with everyone singing. His message took us through the nuances of what it means to be a light for others. He offered the analogy of sunspots who’s darkness on the surface of the sun can not diminish the incredible light of the sun and reminded us that we are not called to be in the light, but rather to “be the light.” His tag lines like, “before Elvis sang his jailhouse rock there was a rock in a Philippian jail,” kept things moving and building as he swept you in aided by perfect chords not rehearsed but felt and conveyed though the synthesized organ and the hum of the gathered congregation. Sometimes we talk about preaching to the choir as preaching to those who already know or are already on board with the message, but this really was preaching with the choir as everyone gathered became part of the message. Once his medley was done the bishop picked right up and kept things going with another song and the Spirit was flowing. I had to wonder how that might work in my very different congregation, but I resonated with what was happening as he brought us into and I hope all those of us who are called to preach use whatever we can to bring people into that feeling. The spirit was pervasive and connections were made. A choir was formed as the rhythm took hold. It was a worship event.