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Christine Jamieson is a mother, a grandmother and a parishioner of Holy Trinity and St George Church in Kendal, explains Stephen Hoyland. Christine is also a dancer. During a wet week in June 2025 she made a retreat in daily life organised by Jesuit Institute for her parish. Circumstances meant she missed a couple of days, but it seems Jesus was not put off by that, as you will see. On Wednesday, Christine was sent to the wedding feast at Cana in order to check out the wine and get Jesus onto the dance floor…
There I was walking into the wedding feast at Cana as a guest (writes Christine). How did that come about?
I was on the Retreat in a Daily Life and my prayer guide suggested that as I am passionate about dance and recently took up ballroom dancing, in my half hour prayer I might go to the wedding at Cana and see what happens around the food, the wine, Jesus and the disciples. My mission (if I chose to accept it) was: does Jesus dance?
So, there I was, walking into the wedding at Cana. The venue was a kind of open marquee without sides. There were no boundaries or restrictions (and this would become significant). The venue was full of light and a sense of joy, not unpleasantly raucous, a calm hum of people, glad to be celebrating a wedding.
I took a seat by myself and looked across at Jesus who was chatting with his disciples. I noticed that he also looked at and recognised every guest that entered - as though he was not only a guest, but also the host.
Everyone was dressed in white today, except Mary, who of course had some blue going on. I’m a cradle Catholic so what do you expect? I didn’t recognise anyone except Jesus and Mary, so was on my own. I noticed being clocked by Jesus as I walked in and found a place to sit. For a moment I was alone, though not uncomfortable. He knew I was there. Good. And this is what happened next…
After a short while Jesus walked across the open space in my direction. He extended his left hand. Those of you who know such things will recognise the significance of the gesture. His left hand was inviting me into a ballroom embrace. Good start. Maybe he knows what he’s doing. I rose and offered my right hand to his left and placed my own left hand on his shoulder as, at the same time, His right arm moved around my waist. I was held. No words were spoken or needed. The language was waltz and we were fluent. The dance began. He led (of course) and I followed in what turned out to be, yes, the waltz, one of the most romantic of the ballroom dances. It wasn’t a basic rendition though, a straightforward one, two, three, but a graceful, flowing movement around the floor with complex steps. The nature of the space meant no edge to the dance floor, no boundaries, just a freedom of movement. Although it wasn’t a performance, we had the floor to ourselves too, without risk of bumping into anyone.
Then Jesus did what sometimes, though rarely, happens in this dance, when there is mutual expertise and profound trust - he let go of my hands. The only physical connection now was his heart to my heart. He continued to lead. I continued to follow. We sustained the same flowing movement. I had to concentrate on maintaining that heart to heart close connection without which the dance would falter and cease. I had to trust. I had to be attentive. I didn't want to lose the connection we had. If he moved forward, I needed to yield. If he moved back, I needed to follow. I wanted to follow.
At the end of the dance, Jesus turned me under his arm, I curtseyed, and he gave a small classical nod. Perfection.
Shortly afterwards I prayed that my husband Ken, who had died two years ago, could come to the wedding. The request was granted and there was Ken. A second dance ensued . . . not ballroom this time, but a young couple swaying together in what I call a 'slowy', my arms around his neck, his arms around my waist, rocking gently.
I don't remember leaving the wedding. (Of course there was a lot of wine to be finished off, so maybe it went on a while.) It was a wonderful experience of intimate connection with Jesus through dance, wordless, holding each other in loving embrace, being led where he wanted to take me, heart to heart.
Can Jesus dance? It would seem so.
Christine Jamieson is a mother, a grandmother and a parishioner of Holy Trinity and St George Church in Kendal, Cumbria.
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