I’m not normally a big fan of sappy romance films, but a comment from the movie “Shall We Dance” (2004) struck me as surprisingly profound (for a film featuring Richard Gere and Jennifer Lopez that is). For those who don’t know the movie, the basic plot includes a bored estate lawyer (Richard Gere) who decides to take dance lessons from a beautiful dance instructor (Jennifer Lopez) in an attempt to spice up his life a bit. The lawyer’s wife (Susan Sarandon) starts to worry that he is having an affair and so she hires a private investigator to check things out. In one of their meetings, the investigator asks the lawyer’s wife why she is so committed to being married. Why not just leave him? Her response is, for me, the most memorable part of the movie:
“We need a witness to our lives. There's a billion people on the planet... I mean, what does any one life really mean? But in a marriage, you're promising to care about everything. The good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things... all of it, all of the time, every day. You're saying 'Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it. Your life will not go un-witnessed because I will be your witness'."
I’m impacted by this quote on a variety of levels, and if I were still an English teacher, I would have a blast picking it apart with my high school students. But, writing for this blog, my purposes are more narrow; so I’ll just follow one thought trail as it relates to the dance of lowliness.
“We need a witness to our lives.” How true it is that what we create and what we accomplish and what we achieve often only seems valuable to the extent that it is recognized by others. This song I wrote doesn’t really come alive for me until I’ve had the chance to sing it to someone and observe their response. This grade I earned for my final paper isn’t nearly as satisfying if no one else knows that I got it. Putting in the extra effort that is required in order to not just do the job, but to do it well seems pointless if no one really seems to notice or care. For many of us, it is the “witness” that gives purpose and meaning to the things we do. Without a “witness” it can be hard to find the motivation to try anything out of the ordinary; anything above average; anything beyond the bare minimum. Mediocrity and meaninglessness often characterize the “unobserved” life; the life lived outside the gaze of an “other.”
Because of this, we can often find ourselves, either consciously or subconsciously, striving to win over the attention of those around us. If many of us were to examine the basic motivations behind the clothes we wear, the objects we buy, the words we choose, and the various pursuits to which we give ourselves, I think we might find, among others, a profound longing to be noticed and perhaps even admired by the “witnesses” around us. And although it would be easy to conclude that this motivation must be rooted in sin, I think that like so many other casualties of the fall, this longing is simply a corrupted version of a God-given desire.
Before I go any further with this train of thought, I want to interject a passage from the gospel of John that begs to be included. Very quickly after Jesus comes on the scene in the early chapters of this gospel, John the Baptist finds himself being overshadowed by this newcomer’s ministry. John’s disciples become distraught over this development and say to John, “everyone is going to him.” John’s response to their concern for his waning notoriety and popularity stands as a shining lamppost for those who would travel the path of lowliness: “Therefore this joy of mine is now complete. He must increase, but I must decrease.”
If the longing to be witnessed, to be recognized, to be noticed is common to all men and women, and I believe that to some extent it is, how is it possible that someone could genuinely find joy in disappearing? What satisfaction is there for the person who finds himself in the shadows? What delight is there for him who dances in the dark?
I know that I lack the wisdom and life experience to respond to this question in a satisfying way. But, I will suggest two thoughts that are taking shape in my mind as I consider it. First, I think that this deep longing for a witness, though twisted by the fall, is God-given because we were created to live under the gaze of a God who sees us. Second, in the mysterious way of the kingdom, it seems that the less visible our actions and accomplishments and abilities are to the earthly witnesses around us, the more valuable they are to God.
Though I would like to explore these two statements in greater depth, I sense that I have written enough for now and need to simply let them sit awhile. I invite your comments and responses knowing that it is often through Spirit-led dialogue that the Lord brings the truths of His Word to light.
