The gospel according to Footloose
I’d guess most of you, like me, aren’t famous. But sometimes it’s fun to think about the closest we’ve ever come to the limelight (or just to a famous person). For me, for many years, all I could point to was one time when Usher and his entourage passed by me at a New York City airport.
While I have written some articles and appeared on some podcasts, only one story really tops my random R&B run-in. I had a tweet go viral. And if I gave you a bunch of chances to guess what that tweet was about, you probably couldn’t guess it, but don’t worry, I’ll tell you: my mom looks like Kevin Bacon.
A popular thread was making its way across the pre-Elon Twitterverse, a thread about how many degrees people were separated from Kevin Bacon (based on a popular theory from years ago that all actors were no more than 6 degrees separated from him in terms of people they had mutually worked with on films). I have no connections to Hollywood actors, and therefore I have no acting connection to Kevin Bacon, but I did offer this gem to the world…
I only mention all of this because it’s awesome and I wanted to offer a short reflection on Footloose, an 80s film starring Kevin Bacon (or starring my mom, according to some conspiracy theorists who emerged on Twitter).
I am going to assume you are familiar with some rendition of this story, whether the original 1984 film, the 1998 Broadway musical, the 2011 film remake, or even just the song “Footloose” by Kenny Loggins (the title track of the movie’s incredible soundtrack). So I won’t rehash the whole plot here, but if you missed this modern masterpiece or you’re young or something, you can find a good summary on Wikipedia.
The main observation I want to offer is that in the movie/play(/song?), the Rev. Shaw Moore who leads the church—and also exerts tons of influence through the town council—leads from a place of pain and fear. Some years before the events of the story, his son died in a drunk driving incident. This sort of tragedy would be devastating to anyone, and would likely cause a crisis of faith for anyone. Shaw’s coping mechanism is to cast blame. He vilifies and outlaws alcohol (sort of understandable), rock & roll (huh?), and dancing (what??). In his mind, these three factors are responsible for his son’s untimely death.
This sort of tragedy does not visit every person of faith or every faith leader. But the temptation that overtakes Shaw is one we will likely all face: the desire to control the uncontrollable. To know the unknowable. To have the answers, to dictate the outcomes, to establish security in faith, in eternity, or in our children’s tomorrow.
The reality is that Shaw, even with his religious training and his rock solid faith, can’t know why his son died while other kids making dangerous decisions survived. He can’t bring back his son. He can’t guarantee he will see him again in a heavenly paradise. Some things—and this may just be the hardest part of being human—simply can’t be controlled or known or understood.
When we come up against these painful (perhaps excruciating) human limitations, our faith can take us in different directions as we try to adapt. It can lead us, like Shaw, to identify potential culprits for what’s wrong in the world or our lives and then cast out those people, beliefs, or practices. To force some sense of control in an uncontrollable universe.
Or perhaps our faith can slowly, lovingly teach us to heal from our pain, to accept the mystery of the unknown, to face a tomorrow that may bring joy and delight and that may bring death and sorrow. I think our faith can do this if it brings us into contact with the Divine, a God who is Love. Love that sits with us, cries with us, cusses with us in our heartbreak and rage and confusion. That keeps loving us.
In the end of the film, Rev. Shaw has a change of heart. He confesses to his church, he prays for the young people of the town, he supports their prom, and on the night of the event he even dances with his wife for the first time in ages.
He dances with God, in a sense, to a place he cannot control.
