Dancing with the Stars and Other Habitual Distractions
Dancing with the Stars premiered on ABC in 2005, it became a broadcast staple for television networks scrambling for viewers loyal to time-locked, advertising-drenched programming. Like the entertainment producers and moneymen of the ancient Roman Empire, who constructed formulas guaranteeing the tens of thousands filling the amphitheaters and coliseums with entertainment satisfaction, some television producer pitched the networks with the following: “How about a dance competition, pairing professional dancers with celebrities?!”
In contrast to the throngs gathering to witness the marathon dance contestants of the early 20th century, the millions gathered in front of their 83” flat-screens would not be watching those longing to be discovered. Dancing With the Stars featured those already existing in the city of refuge called “known-ness.” The mass-mediated fame system offered to the anonymous millions an opportunity to watch the journey of the “stars” (those who had already floated to the surface of mass recognition) on their way toward dancing superiority. The dance competition would feature 4-5 dancing professionals paired with “stars” whose emanating light might have faded slightly, at least enough to allow for them to pencil into their schedules the chance to sweat, move, and groove to the beat of pop tunes and surrounded by adoring cheers of the studio audience. In other words, these are not the busiest of celebrities.
Of course, all the “stars,” with whom “we” were dancing were bodily contoured to the culture’s standard of enviable perfection, with facial features chiseled to Disney princess and princely flawlessness. It just so happened that the dancing “professionals,” paired with the celebrities, generally matched the facial and bodily standards warranting our gaze.
It would also feature the reality show plot necessity discovered two decades earlier: each episode featuring the climatic departure of one pair of dancing contestants. It is a reminder that we are wired as suckers for stories, and not just the aesthetic pleasure of a dance move expertly maneuvered. The second act of the simple, but compelling plot line includes the tension and suspense attached to the next couple dismissed from the story. Good-byes, especially to those we have deemed our favorites, are especially dramatic and make for riveting television.
And the producers see to it that the show takes us behind the scenes to video clips of rehearsal slip-ups, frustrations, and celebrity exertion. These stars swear just like everyone else, don’t look quite as glamorous in their sweats, and turn impossible corners with hours of practice magically turned into half-minutes of video clips for our viewing pleasure.
Millions of us had nothing better to do, including the possibility of dancing with the stars of our own personal existence, like our marital partners, siblings, or children. Or initiatives toward dancing in ministry and fellowship with those who are part of our worshipping community, gathered to serve the Living God by serving one another and spurring “one another to love and good deeds” (Hebrews 10:24, NIV).
Years later, Dancing with the Stars would remain a fixture on broadcast television. Websites and videos proliferate offering more and more opportunities to sit and watch. With each couple’s departure, entertainment headlines are written—though marginalized to the lower corners of the opening page of entertainment news. And often we read and watch because in that moment it seems there is nothing better to do, having forgotten our congregational “one-another” responsibilities.
Yet those moments of “spectator passivity” are filled with more comparisons of what we don’t look like, the dance moves beyond our skills or training, and the adulation that always belongs to someone else. And in those moments drenched with dance floors beyond our experience, but not our desire, we forget that we belong to Christ and his church—a church in which we are called to serve one another, encourage others, and be an active part in its redemptive dance.
Paul D. Patton, Ph.D., is a professor of communication and theater at Spring Arbor University in Michigan. He has graduate degrees in Guidance and Counseling, Religious Education, and Script and Screenwriting, and a doctorate in Communication with an emphasis in theater arts. He has been married to his wife Beth for over forty years and has three daughters (all actresses)—Jessica, Emily, and Grace, three sons-in-law, David, Joe, and Eric, and four grandsons, Caleb Rock, Logan Justice, Micah Blaze, and Miles Dean.