A Russian Ballet

At the age of sixty, the occasions are few and further between when I feel like a “little girl at heart.”   Imagining myself attending a Russian ballet–in Russia–is one of these occasions.

During a time of ballet lessons, pirouetting, leotards and standing on my toes (though not very well, or for very long) I, like many other little girls, imagined life as a real prima ballerina.  I practiced spinning, twirling and leaping across my bedroom floor as if it were a real stage.   But just as my ballet slippers ended up lovingly tucked away into a corner of my dresser, memories of that time period were similarly folded up and placed  into a back corner of my mind.  There they remained, “wispy, long-forgotten memories,” until now.   Knowing that Russia’s first ballet school began here in St. Petersburg–using two rooms of the Tsar’s Winter Palace–I had to at least try to secure tickets to one of the ballets.

Asking the very kind concierge if she might be able to secure two tickets to one of the ballet performances, she tilted her head, smiled, and replied, “I’ll do my best” in her thick Russian accent.   Though tickets were sold out, she might be able to find two.   A few days later, while walking through the lobby, the concierge proudly announced, “I have your ballet tickets.”   Smiling big I thanked her for both her effort and success.    While discussing transportation details for the ballet I inquired if she’d seen the ballet.  Wistfully she replied, “Once, many years ago.”

At 5,000 rubles each, these ballet tickets are a luxury item, not a necessity.  I know I’m blessed in so many ways.  It’s a lifelong dream to just visit Russia let alone attend the ballet.

The next evening the hotel driver dropped us off at the front entrance of the Mikhailovsky Theatre and confirmed his return to the same location once the performance ended.

Exchanging tickets for entrance, we stepped through the glass doors into a brightly lit, beautiful (and very busy) lobby.

Following the crowd, I checked my coat, received an English version of the ballet program, and found the correct seats.  I’m here.  The little girl inside of me wants to jump up and down in delight!  I closed my eyes and thanked God for this amazing blessing.

Looking around the theater, the majority attending were couples between the ages of thirty and sixty.  People watching–a few families sat down with their young children; a scattering of elderly women were ushered to their seats; and up in the balcony, a large group of college aged students drew attention to themselves by talking “a little too loudly.”

Finally, the ballet began.  Except for the intermission all eyes focused on the ballerinas leaping gracefully across the stage floor.  Without speaking or understanding Russian–the ballet told the story of Romeo and Juliet.  The orchestra played beautifully; the sets appeared exquisite; and the dancing, beyond perfection.  As the dancers bowed to the clapping, I finally snapped a few photos.

As the lights brightened, the final curtains closed and the patrons exited the theatre I thought about the long hours each ballerina practiced to be able to dance so beautifully.  After all the years of dancing, does it still elicit the same joy as when each ballerina began as a child?  I hope so.

Though I’ve always loved dancing, it’s harder and harder to do so the older I become.  I know I am not a ballerina but as a child I loved moving to any music.  Now I’m much more self conscious; I feel clumsy, off balance and not very graceful.  Yet under the right circumstances I feel at ease dancing.

My heavenly Father wants me to praise Him by dancing and making music before His throne.

Exodus 15:20, “And Miriam the prophetess, the sister of Aaron, took a timbrel in her hand; and all the women went out after her with timbrels and with dances.”

I am not a singer or musician, but when I praise God with my voice I feel Him near.

Psalm 149:3, “Let them praise his name with dancing, making melody to him with tambourine and lyre!”

Psalm 150:4, “Praise him with the timbrel and dance: praise him with stringed instruments and organs.”

Over and over, throughout both the Old and New Testament we are given examples of those who danced before the Lord.  David, a man chosen by God to be King of Israel; brave enough to slay Goliath using only a slingshot and stone; and a man, unafraid to publicly display his joy towards a forgiving and loving Lord.  God “knew” David.

Acts 13:22, “…I have found in David the son of Jesse a man after my heart, who will do all my will.”

2 Samuel 6:14, “And David danced before the LORD with all his might….”

David wasn’t perfect.  He was a sinner: he took another man’s wife to bed with him; and attempted to cover up his sin by placing him in a battle where he’d be killed.   Finding God’s forgiveness, David publicly danced for the Lord.

1 Chronicles 15:29, “And it came to pass, as the ark of the covenant of the LORD came to the city of David, that Michal, the daughter of Saul looking out at a window saw king David dancing and playing…”

Imagine the King of Israel “dancing and playing” as the ark of the covenant of the Lord came into his city.  God came near.  David couldn’t contain himself.  He danced.  Despite all his failures in life, David danced…unencumbered.  He didn’t care who saw him.

Years ago, I invited Jesus to live in my heart.  I don’t need to wait for an ark to pass by or enter my city.  God is already inside of me.  So when the world crushes my spirit or I focus upon my own sins and failures, it is easy to retreat into a “dark place” and refrain from singing or dancing.  But all I need to do is admit my sins and accept His forgiveness.  He loves me.

Psalm 30:4-5, “Sing praise to the LORD…For His anger is but for a moment, His favor is for a lifetime; Weeping may last for the night, But a shout of joy comes in the morning.”

Forgiveness leads to Joy.  Joy causes me to sway, twirl and even sing aloud.  I am loved.  I dance–not like a ballerina, but as a woman forgiven and loved by a majestic, Almighty God.