Cindy goes to the ballet...

Cindy has always loved ballet. As a child she had lessons for 4 years. She has long graceful arms and hands but her body was not supple with a rubber spine as some of the ballet stars seem to have been blessed with. So her childhood dream of becoming a ballerina remained a dream.

This week Cindy attended an end of year exhibition by the final year students of the Australian Ballet School. It was a spiritual experience for Cindy. She is allowing us to peek into a page of her 'secret diary' for explanation.

Cindy's Diary — September 2006

As I walked into the beautiful theatre with its plush red decor, my pulse quickened. The sense of expectation in the muffled conversation as people found their seats was palpable. Immediately I thought of how similar it was in some ways, to coming into the church for Mass with the little buzz of people having a quick chat before the ceremony gets under way.

As the time for the ballet to begin was imminent, the lights dimmed and a reverent hush descended over the crowd. As the curtain was raised revealing a beautifully lit stage, the audience spontaneously broke into applause and cheering. The sheer excitement and expectation of the crowd brought tears to my eyes.

The first strains of music drifted into the air and two dancers, floated onto the stage as light as thistledown — the audience exploded. With every piece of fancy footwork throughout the evening, the audience responded with cheers and clapping — we were involved. The dancers appreciated our attention, you could see them dancing as they had perhaps never danced before. This was their BIG night — their final presentation. They were being assessed as to whom would be the lucky ones selected to join the Australian Ballet in 2007. Their performances were faultless. The music was from heaven. The audience was thrilled. Proud parents and families cried unashamedly as their young sons and daughters defied gravity and floated through the air with the grace of angels.

Yes, I cried tears of ecstasy from the total enthrallment and beauty of the ballet. My soul was lifted aloft to a world of beauty — a higher place where the Holy Spirit breathes joy into the soul.

Later my mind began comparing the positive experience of the ballet with the experience of church. Yes, I know our church ceremonies are not a performance. As a sacristan, I take great care with lighting and ambiance so our parishioners are comfortable when they come to our church — gentle background music to soften their arrival into the sacred space — smiles of welcome.

So why can a ballet performance uplift my soul to the heights when weekend Eucharistic celebrations don't? Is it because I am often at the church and rarely at the ballet? Does familiarity breed contempt? Perhaps it is the music? Those same old hymns, inspired as they may have been years ago, cannot begin to compare with Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake music that is timeless and immortal. However it is more than the music. It is something about involvement. In a huge theatre of thousands of people, everyone — if they want to — can be drawn into the action. In church, there is no emotion. We cannot clap after a good homily, yell the AMEN with joyous enthusiasm or dance with joy after receiving Communion can we? No, we sit passively in our seats — then stand, sit, kneel, stand, sit — up and down. We recite prayers to a male God and I am bored to death with the Creed. I admit it, I would be delighted if I never heard those words ever again in my whole life, especially the bit about "for us men and our salvation" phttt.

Thank you dear Lord for the ballet, the thrill of it, the music, the beauty, its power to lift me into a world saturated with your presence in a way nothing else on this earth seems to do for me.

Translating all this back to the pews...

We shall leave Cindy with her thoughts as she ponders the presence of God in all created things and experiences.

Perhaps the Eucharist is present in this world in so many ways we miss the obvious. God's presence is so drenched within every atom of creation — we fail to notice.

When Cindy puts away all the hymnbooks left in the seats this weekend, she will hear the haunting music of the swans echoing in her head. Her heart will feel the passionate love of Odette and ultimately her broken heart in Swan Lake. As Cindy leaves the church spic and span, ready for the weekend weddings, she will imagine the Swan Lake Prince and Princess floating towards heaven in their swan shaped carriage — those poignant heart-wrenching moments at the conclusion of her favourite Swan Lake ballet. The divinely inspired music captures the action and speaks silent words.

Yes, when Cindy turns on the altar lights this weekend she will imagine the altar coming to life welcoming the people of God to the great banquet at the table of Jesus. As parishioners struggle to their feet singing another old hymn, she will hear the distant sound of the crowd in the red plush seats welcoming the dancers.

As the presiding priest walks towards the altar, she will remember the quickened heart beat and excited expectation of the audience at the ballet — knowing the joy that awaits them for the next few hours. The priest however, will make the Sign of the Cross, greet the people and immediately remind them they are sinners in need of forgiveness.

She will hope the Reader can at least be understood and give correct pronunciation for those strange names of thousands of years ago in the Old Testament Readings. Will the homily be as uplifting as Swan Lake Act 3, when the black swan Odile has the audience screaming and gasping with delight as she executes 32 pirouettes in quick succession? I doubt it. Maybe some vocal variety from the priest would add more interest to keep people focused. Maybe he could yell now and again to re-gather the attention of those nodding off? No. It will all be very civilized and correct.

The most action Cindy has seen at Mass recently occurred when a parishioner sneezed violently during the quiet time after Communion and accidentally passed wind during the process. People for 3 seats around were rolling around laughing and the priest looked blankly at them wondering what on earth was happening. It was delightful.

There is a time for everything under heaven as we hear this week in Ecclesiastes — a time to be born and a time to die — a time for the ballet and a time for the Eucharist.

Cindy the Sacristan is the first new character to be written by one of our other readers whose imagination has been fired by Cliff's Menagerie. In reality these are real-life memoirs of one of our members who would prefer to remain anonymous.

[Cindy's Archive]