\nI noticed the other day that the guy who wrote the song “Hokey-Pokey” recently\npassed away. Although saddened by his death, I was glad to be reminded of\nthe song. It was the first song I learned in Sunday school, along with “Climb,\nClimb Up Sunshine Mountain.” I think that’s one of the problems the Sunday\nschool movement is facing today: no hokey-pokey.<\/p>\n
\nSo I thought as a kind of memorial I’d offer an exegetical piece on it. Because\nmuch of what I know about theology, I learned from Hokey-Pokey.<\/p>\n
No surprise here. Some of the literal-minded\namong us used to wonder “in what?<\/em>“; but most children of goodwill\ngot the general idea.<\/p>\n Why not? You put it in in the first\nplace. You give, and then you take. Here we have an almost Johannine dualism\nthat echoes the classic rhythms of life and death, love and hate, network\nand cable.<\/p>\n \nYou share, then you withdraw. You are neither enmeshed nor engaged. No\nco-dependents allowed in this game. Here we learn about boundaries. It’s\nmy<\/em> foot, and if I say “in,” then “in” it is, but I can “out” at any\ntime. (Some redaction critics see here the influence of the so-called\n“deutero-Hokey” or “Minirth-Meier” tradition.)<\/p>\n Here’s the element of surprise. Nobody\ncould have seen this one coming. The right foot was gone,<\/em> and we had\nno reason to hope it should ever be back. But just when it seemed darkest,\nthere’s the right foot—in again. It’s the motif of the Prodigal Foot—first\nat home (in<\/em> ); then off to a distant country (out<\/em> ); then it\n“comes to its senses and returns home” (in<\/em> ). This time we know it’s\nhome to stay.<\/p>\n \nAnd so we<\/p> Of course. Who could hold it still?<\/p>\n \nThe next phrase is shrouded in mystery. <\/p>“You take your right foot out.”<\/h2>
“You put your right foot in.”<\/h2>
“shake it all about.”<\/h2>
“Do the Hokey-Pokey and turn yourself around.”<\/h2>