Recently I have been working through the fascinating book Catholic Revivalism: The American Experience 1830-1900 by Jay P. Dolan (University of Notre Dame Press, 1978). Dolan's work chronicles the phenomenon of Catholic revivalist meetings in the United States throughout the 19th century. From the 1830s to the turn of the century, traveling Catholic evangelists—largely Redemptorists, Jesuits, Passionists, and later the Paulist Fathers—held large outdoor "missions" analagous to the better-known Protestant tent revivals of the Second Great Awakening. The purpose of these missions was to rekindle the faith in the small (but growing) Catholic population of America who, due to their scattered geographic distribution, often had little access to the sacraments and led anemic faith lives.
The topic of Catholic revivalism is an interesting subject that deserves a thorough treatment in its own right, but for now I want to focus on a little nugget I came across relating to dancing. Last year there was a dust up in Tradistan when Peter Kwasniewski published a series of articles on his Substack Tradition and Sanity defending mixed-gendered social dancing contra Traditionalist criticisms that dancing is a near occasion of sin and should be avoided (see "Why Catholics Should Learn to Dance" and "The Great Good of Social Dancing: A Reply to My Critics").
In Catholic Revivalism, Dolan also references dance in his discussion of the sermons of revivalist preachers, who always condemned social dances. We know this from evidence found in the extant sermons of popular preachers such as Clarence Walworth, Francis X. Weninger, and Walter Elliot. According to Dolan, these missionaries were unanimous in their condemnation of social dancing, especially for young people. Most Catholic revival sermons contained spirited denunciations of the past time, even featuring lavish descriptions of damned young women forced to dance forever in Hell on burning floors. Dolan relates:
In avoiding those places which gave rise to sins of impurity, one institution in particular came in for severe denunciation—the dance hall. The code of morality fostered by the revival strongly condemned dancing; at the last judgment the sinner's body would be recognizable not only by "drunken lips," but also by "dancing feet." For the young girl who "lost [her] soul at the night dance," there was waiting for her "in Hell a burning floor for her giddy feet." Dancing was an "inveterate evil," so prevalent in one town, St. Genevieve, Missouri, that the popular idea of heaven seemed to be that of "an endless ballroom where there was nothing but everlasting dancing and fiddling." The preachers were so opposed to the practice that they sometimes asked for acts of public penance from the young people who were engaged in such frolicking. On one occasion a Redemptorist, preaching a mission in New Trier, Illinois, was so persuasive in his denunciation of a local dance hall that "all turned against the ballroom-keeper, his two sons were sent out of their situations, and on the day after the mission not only his, but all other ball-tents were broken to pieces." (1)
The tenor of these condemnations borders on the morbid. At the same 1860 parish mission in New Trier, Illinois, the Redemptorist preacher, commenting on the recent sinking of the Lady Elgin on Lake Michigan (a tragedy which cost 300 lives), could not help but note that the ship crashed into another vessel and was sunk at the very moment the dancing began on deck. (2)
Given the universality of this message, we must proceed to ask why dancing was so condemned, and what we are to make of these denunciations today?
I have always supported social dancing for Catholics as a wholesome and praiseworthy past time, and passages like this do not change my view. Nevertheless, they have prompted me to dig a bit deeper into the causes of the animus against dancing, specifically in the context of 19th century America. This study took me down a few unexpected rabbit holes, both political and cultural, so I beg the reader's indulgence if it seems meandering, but I wanted to get beyond the silly surface-level critiques of "dancing bad cuz make kids horny" and see if there was something more to uncover.
I have always supported social dancing for Catholics as a wholesome and praiseworthy past time, and passages like this do not change my view. Nevertheless, they have prompted me to dig a bit deeper into the causes of the animus against dancing, specifically in the context of 19th century America. This study took me down a few unexpected rabbit holes, both political and cultural, so I beg the reader's indulgence if it seems meandering, but I wanted to get beyond the silly surface-level critiques of "dancing bad cuz make kids horny" and see if there was something more to uncover.
Dances of the 19th Century
First, let us consider what dances were in vogue in the dance halls of America in the Victorian era. We know what dances were being done and how they were performed from dance manuals published throughout the period in question (Elizabeth Aldrich, a highly respected American dance historian, has meticuloulsy studied these manuals and compiled her research in an article "Nineteenth Century Social Dance" for the Library of Congress, if anyone wants to do a deep dive into the history of dance). According to the manuals, the most popular dances for most of the century were variations of the quadrille, a structured square dance for four couples. Towards the middle of the century, other dances began to make inroads into the dance halls, including the polka, galop, waltz, schottische, esmerelda, mazurka, cotillon (also known as the German), grand march (polonaise), and—after 1890—the two-step, also known as the "Washington Post."
Classism, Dance, and Democratization
Whereas the traditional quadrille was a French (read, cultured) dance, the newer dances were of more ethnically diverse origins, coming primarily from Poland, Bohemia, Sweden, and Germany, reflecting the increasing diversity of the United States in the 1830s and 40s. This engendered resentment in the old moneyed social elites, who looked down on these new dances as foreign (read, low-class) interpolations into polite society. Often eastern European in origin and popular among the recently-arrived working class immigrants, there was something bawdy and low-brow about these new dances, which reflected not the salons of France or the English country gentleman, but the culture of the Polish or Bohemian peasant. There was thus a type of classist disdain for the "new dances."
Nowhere was this classism more evident than in the case of the 19th century's most controversial dance, the waltz. The waltz was said to be innovative in several ways: it was a couples' round (the dancers move in one large circle about the ballroom), the man put his arm about the woman's waist, and the couple maintained eye contact for the duration of the dance, all of which were deemed novelties. But its original sin was its emergence from the peasant class. When this dance first emerged in Europe in the late 1700s, it was lambasted in the press—not for being morally compromising, but for being a dance of boorish rustics. In 1785, an anonymous critic of the waltz writing under the pen name G.F. Koskull lamented that what began as a peasant children's game had become adopted by the gentry:
[As to] the Waltz, the earlier fashions we have got from abroad, but this figure we have learned from our own farmers; nobody that has been in the countryside any time during spring or summer can have missed how the people, especially the youth, amuse themselves by laying down in the green grass, preferably on a small hill, always two and two, one above the other, holding each other with the arms and throwing their legs around each other, and in this formation they roll or waltz down the hill. This has previously been a game, but the gentry today has developed it as something serious; it has been introduced into the Contra dance. (3)
This is, of course, not true in the slightest; the waltz did not begin with peasant children rolling down hills. Rather, it emerged from the earlier German dance known as the ländler, a partner dance with lots of stomping in hobnail boots popular among commmoners (here is an example of a ländler put to music by Franz Liszt). But the fact that Koskull believed the waltz to have begun with peasant children rolling down a hill illustrates the classism baked into literary complaints against the waltz—the waltz is inherently inappropriate for polite society because it comes from the hoi polloi, the unwahsed masses.
It is no coincidence that these sorts of complaints against the waltz (and other new dances) corresponded to the increasing democratization of Europe, which intensified as the 19th century wore on. In a certain sense, the elitist reaction against the waltz and other "peasant" dances reflected upper class anxiety and resentment over the increasing political importance of the common people in European society. The age of aristocratic court etiquette was rapidly vanishing, to be replaced by a democritized "people's society," of which the waltz was a potent symbol.
As an aside, I have often heard people say that Pope Leo XII banned the waltz in the Papal States during the 1820s. This claim even occurs in the Merriam-Webster article on the waltz and the Cambridge History of the Papacy. I have never seen this claim sourced, however. Despite many efforts over the years, I have not been able to locate any encyclical, edict, or decree of Leo XII banning the waltz. This suggests that we are dealing with a historical legend or exaggeration. Of course, I certainly may be missing something, so if anybody can point me to a primary source of Leo XII banning waltz, I would be most appreciative.
It is no coincidence that these sorts of complaints against the waltz (and other new dances) corresponded to the increasing democratization of Europe, which intensified as the 19th century wore on. In a certain sense, the elitist reaction against the waltz and other "peasant" dances reflected upper class anxiety and resentment over the increasing political importance of the common people in European society. The age of aristocratic court etiquette was rapidly vanishing, to be replaced by a democritized "people's society," of which the waltz was a potent symbol.
As an aside, I have often heard people say that Pope Leo XII banned the waltz in the Papal States during the 1820s. This claim even occurs in the Merriam-Webster article on the waltz and the Cambridge History of the Papacy. I have never seen this claim sourced, however. Despite many efforts over the years, I have not been able to locate any encyclical, edict, or decree of Leo XII banning the waltz. This suggests that we are dealing with a historical legend or exaggeration. Of course, I certainly may be missing something, so if anybody can point me to a primary source of Leo XII banning waltz, I would be most appreciative.
Dancing as a Moral Panic
One can find plenty of examples throughout history of new dances occasioning moral panic from the higher classes. A moral panic is a widespread, intense, and exaggerated societal fear that a particular person, group, or practice threatens the values and interests of the community (those of you old enough may recall the Satanic Panic of the 1980s). As the age of democratization saw social trends increasingly set by commoners instead of elites, there was a widespread sense of anxiety that long-held social mores were being eroded and overthrown. That's not to say this wasn't true to some extent—the 19th century did see massive shifts across all facets of society that, from a Catholic perspective, were quite negative. But what happens during a moral panic is that social anxieties about this transformation become irrationally fixated on one specific issue or practice that comes to symbolize the fear of the community—in this case, the "new" dances, like the waltz.
The Swedish ethnologist Mats Nilson argues that there is a long history of dancing eliciting moral panic especially when popular dances come from the ordinary people:
The Swedish ethnologist Mats Nilson argues that there is a long history of dancing eliciting moral panic especially when popular dances come from the ordinary people:
Dancing has been some sort of folk devil—a behaviour practised by ordinary people that the rulers and elite classes dislike. The combination of body, movement and morality has been an issue for those who do not take part in these activities, especially adults versus the youth. (4)
Young people’s dancing
for pleasure seems to be a constantly latent field from which moral panics emerge over
time. The dances and dance events themselves become the "folk devils" that are believed to ruin young people. It may, of course, be objected that the hostility to the new dances cannot be explained by classism alone. These dances did, after all, feature gestures and movements which were novel and considered scandalous—for example, in the waltz, the man putting his arm around the woman's waist and maintaining continuous eye contact. But this critique holds only true if we are considering the dances of so-calld high society; if we look back on earlier dances popular among the commoners, we see that dancing face-to-face, holding a partner close, spinning, etc. all had precendents going back to the late Middle Ages. The difference, however, is these were peasant dances, not the dances of the cultured elites. What happened in the 18th and 19th century was that these dances of the lower classes began percolating up the ladder of the social hierarchy, to the dismay of the cultured intelligentsia .
The panic over the new dances was not merely about inappropriate closeness between the sexes. Some made a strong case that they were also unhealthy from a medical standpoint. A Swedish editorial from 1801 argued that the waltz was not only immoral but physically dangerous due to the circular movements:
The panic over the new dances was not merely about inappropriate closeness between the sexes. Some made a strong case that they were also unhealthy from a medical standpoint. A Swedish editorial from 1801 argued that the waltz was not only immoral but physically dangerous due to the circular movements:
If you, my lady, want to avoid embarrassment, then stay away from the dances that put you in danger. The Waltzes are such a group, not only because their circular movements are the most harmful: they are also the most indecent and immoral. I want to ask any male if he can have the same respect as before for a girl when he has seen her Waltzing? Even less can he who waltzed with her have any respect for her. (5)
This constant spinning, never reversing, could and did produce a feeling of euphoria, a cause for one of the many criticisms leveled at it throughout the century, as it was feared that this euphoric sensation was detrimental to physical health.
Today, of course, these objections seem ridiculous. Social waltzes are hardly the occasions of debauchery the 19th century moralists made them out to be. And nobody takes seriously the critique that the waltz's circular movement is physically dangerous.
"Yes, but, isn't there some legitimacy to the criticism that close contact between the sexes in the context of social dancing could inflame lust? There is touching, vigorous movement, and close physical contact."
This is a valid question. Let us consider it by looking at another dance, much older and different than the waltz. In the 13th century, the most popular dance was the carole, a dance where men and women would link hands and dance in a circle while different people took turns singing each verse, not unlike children singing "Ring Around the Rosie." There were no partners, and no physical contact save for hand-holding. It was performed not in dance halls but outdoors. It would seem that none of the criticisms leveled against the waltz would be applicable here.
Today, of course, these objections seem ridiculous. Social waltzes are hardly the occasions of debauchery the 19th century moralists made them out to be. And nobody takes seriously the critique that the waltz's circular movement is physically dangerous.
The Carole and Waltz Compared
"Yes, but, isn't there some legitimacy to the criticism that close contact between the sexes in the context of social dancing could inflame lust? There is touching, vigorous movement, and close physical contact."
This is a valid question. Let us consider it by looking at another dance, much older and different than the waltz. In the 13th century, the most popular dance was the carole, a dance where men and women would link hands and dance in a circle while different people took turns singing each verse, not unlike children singing "Ring Around the Rosie." There were no partners, and no physical contact save for hand-holding. It was performed not in dance halls but outdoors. It would seem that none of the criticisms leveled against the waltz would be applicable here.
If the carole sounds unobjectionable, you may be surprised to learn that it was, nevertheless, ruthlessly lambasted by 13th century preachers. Jacques de Vitry (d. 1240), the French canon and preacher, said:
[The carole] is a circle whose centre is the Devil, and in it all turn to the left, because all are heading towards everlasting death. When foot is pressed to foot or the hand of the woman is touched by the hand of a man, there the fire of the Devil is kindled. (6)
Another 13th century work called the Mireour du monde condemned the movements of the dance as inherently sinful:
All those men and women who Carole sin in every member of their bodies by turning elegantly and by moving and shaking their arms, by singing, and by speaking dishonourably. (7)
One will notice that while the overall concerns about the carole and the waltz are the same—immodest movements that become occasions of lust—the specific criticisms against each dance are entirely different. In the waltz, it is the waist holding, eye contact, and circular motion of the couple that is dangerous, while in the carole it is the singing, moving of the arms, holding hands, and individual turns of the participants. Both dances are condemned by preachers of their respective eras, but for entirely different reasons. Beyond the obvious question of whether any of these motions could be considered sinful, the wide diversity of opinion on what specifically made a dance sinful suggests that there was no consensus—that the preacher was ever eager to simply condemn the dance first and find a rationale afterwards. He was so convinced that whatever the young people were doing must be wrong that any consituent part of the dance could be taken as evidence to prove his point.
To the original question, "Couldn't dancing enflame lust?" we must answer that the preachers seemed certain that any frolicking past time enjoyed by the youth was wrong. Obviously we all know that certain physical movements can be sexually suggestive and inappropriate for Christian persons to engage in; we know that some dances are too sexualized to ever be appropriate, and such has never been in doubt. The question is whether dances like the waltz, carole, line dancing, etc. contain such sexualized behavior. While I think most sensible people would conclude that they do not, the preachers viewed it differently. For them—and this is a key argument I am trying to make with this essay—the mere fact that young people were recreating was sufficient to condemn it, especially if it was done among the lower classes.
Other Condemned Past Times
Maybe you read that last paragraph and rolled your eyes. Perhaps don't believe me and think I am resorting to hyperbole. Very well. Let's examine some other past times that were condemned alongside dancing. The following condemnations can all be found in the same 19th century sermons which condemned social dancing.
Novels and Fiction Reading
The revivalist preachers of the 19th century were swift to condemn what they called "bad reading." Bad reading was not immoral or pornographic reading, as you might imagine (although it would encompass that as well). Rather, it referred to the reading of novels and fiction in general, which were seen as an unacceptable and frivolous exercise in escapism, especially among young women. The novel was roundly condemned by mission preachers, who recommended non-fiction books on pious subjects instead.
Alcohol
Perhaps no practice was so universally condemned by 19th century preachers as drinking. Revivalist preachers encouraged men to make pledges of complete abstinence, which were sworn publicly before the priest and community and recorded with the parish in a manner akin to our modern day sacramental registries. Temperance societies aided the preachers in pushing for legislation to outlaw the sale of alcohol and close saloons, the hated source of the "demon rum." The drunkard was featured in every sermon on morality as the template for a sinful person. Saloon owners—known as "grogsellers"—were the agents of Satan, the "demons' visible ministers on earth," a "doorkeeper of hell" who lived off "blood money" taken in exchange for "a glass of poison." (8) Look at this fierce denunciation of saloon owners from the Paulist preacher Fr. Walter Elliot, who imagines the damned in hell clamoring for the soul of grogsellers:
The grogseller would soon change his business if he knew what awaits him [in hell]...Bretheren, there are thousands of souls this night in hell whose only joy forever shall be to torment the grogseller; who this moment are sending up a frantic prayer to God that the grogseller may die tonight suddenly in his bed. (9)
Catholics who were in the business of selling alcohol were excluded from membership in any Catholic association and were excluded from communion if they sold liquor on Sundays (10). Bishops urged clergy to do all in their power to break up low grog shops and even ordered them to refuse Christian burial to those who sold liquor to known drunks (11). You may think that these condemnations applied only to what we might think of as immoral or "sleazy" liquor establishments, not to well-managed pubs of higher reputation. But, as Bishop John Ireland made clear in his tract on the Church and the saloon, these proscriptions applied universally:
...the American saloon is branded with the disfavor of the Church. Henceforth Catholic public opinion frowns upon the saloon and the saloon-keeper; saloon-keeping is a disreputable business, and the saloon-keeper, however correctly he conducts his particular saloon, still, because of the general malodorousness of the business in which he is engaged, must not, and will not, be permitted to appear in any capacity as a representative of the Church or as a prominent Catholic; he must, and will, be kept aloof from all places of honor and distinction in the Church. (12)
Some preachers realized this went beyond the precepts of the Gospel and attemptd to introduce entirely arbitrary moral distinctions between different types of alcohol. Francis X. Weninger, S.J., for example, argued that wine, beer, cider, meads and all fermented drinks were from God and could be consumed, but temperately, whereas distilled drinks like whiskey, rum, brandy and hard liquors could only be used for medicinal purposes without sin, and only sparingly (13).
In conclusion, the Church in that time took an almost absolutist view against the sale and consumption of alcohol. In fact, Catholic temperance societies were later instrumental in mobilizing political support of the Eighteenth Amendment to the Constitution inaugurating the era of Prohibition. The Traditionalist home-brewers and beer aficionados of today would be shunned as "grogsellers" in the American church of the 19th century.
Gambling
The town saloon was also the site of gambling, usually over games of cards or billiards. Gambling was condemned outright with no qualifications.
Picnics were also condemned, especially if occurring between the opposite sexes. Some preachers condemned them for being occasions of gluttony and excess, others for objections of leisure relating to the Fourth Commandment if the picnic occured on a Sunday, while others objected to the casual fraternization of men and women. Also condemned were "excursions," which were defined as other sorts of recreational mixed-gendered group outings, for example, a group of young boys and girls going into town together to go shopping for the afternoon.
Theater
Attending theater was also condemned without qualification as a past time frivolous and dangerous to one's soul. There is no evidence that distinction was made between wholesome and unwholesome shows. Attendance at the theater was condemned outright as an unsuitable past time for a Catholic, especially young people. (14)
These aforementioned past times were all condemned alongside dancing in the preaching of the revivalist missionaries. Some of their concerns were understandable—drunkenness was a huge problem, and certain theatrical performances could be bawdy and inappropriate, just as certain films are today. But that is hardly the case for all alcohol, or all theater, or all picnics...or all dancing. Every one of these can and are used wholesomely by millions of Catholics around the world. I can't help wonder how some of these mission fathers would react to the popularity of home brewing clubs popping up in Catholic parishes, or Bingo night at the parish hall.
We have gone a bit far afield and must bring the conversation back to the question of dancing. In my opinion, the lack of discrimination between wholesome and unwholesome recreation suggests a certain deficiency of balance in how these topics were approached. The condemnations of dancing in the Patristic period had to do with remnants of pagan worship, which is hardly relevant to situations like the waltz. As for the modern stigmatization of dances by these 19th century clergy, some have speculated this was a result of residual Jansenism still lingering about in the clergy. And the Church has certainly always had its share of moralizing puritans, ever eager to treat everything from curly-toed shoes to facial hair as crises indicative of societal decay. But I also think—at least when it comes to dancing—that there is a kind of generational recurrent Boomerism at play throughout all of Church history, a sense of "the youth are doing something new that I don't understand and therefore it must be bad." After all, kids will occasionally do stupid things, and impetuousness is a characteristic of youth. And occasionally soul-destroying fads do emerge from youth culture, as we saw in the late 1960s. I would argue, however, that in ages of broad social transformation (such as the 19th century), these concerns balloon to the point where youth culture is viewed with skepticism in toto, and criticism becomes irrationally crystalized on one particular trend that stands for the whole. It is akin to “Nobody wants to work anymore,” a complaint about the youth heard across human history which is surely true in very particular cases but utterly fails as a general analysis. I believe the preachers like Fr. Francis X. Weninger and Jacques de Vitry were speaking from this mindset. They were undoubtedly good men who had the best of intentions, but we all know the type—the moralizing preacher for whom everything is a mortal sin, everyone already has one foot in hell, and the average schlub is lucky if he barely makes it to the bottom rung of Purgatory. These were men for whom the mere sight of young people enjoying themselves was a cause for concern.
In our own day, as well, we see immense social transformation, coupled with deep-seated concerns about everything young people are doing. But if social transformation has brought new dangers, it also brings new remedies. In an age where the majority of Americans are obese from a hyper-sedentary lifestyle, where digital interactions and online dating have upended relations between the sexes, where young people rot in their beds alone for hours on end scrolling porn and gooning, where 45% of women are predicted to be single and childless by 2030, social dancing is the last thing we need to worry about. In fact, social dancing is a wholesome and robust remedy to the crippling isolation and self-referential nature of modern life.
Now maybe you agree with the 19th century moralists that picnics, theater, fiction, and all manner of recreation are bad and should be prohibited to young people; if so, please prepare yourself for your children to abandon the faith, which they inevitably will as soon as they loosen themselves from your suffocating, sanctimonious grasp.
Notes
Theater
Attending theater was also condemned without qualification as a past time frivolous and dangerous to one's soul. There is no evidence that distinction was made between wholesome and unwholesome shows. Attendance at the theater was condemned outright as an unsuitable past time for a Catholic, especially young people. (14)
These aforementioned past times were all condemned alongside dancing in the preaching of the revivalist missionaries. Some of their concerns were understandable—drunkenness was a huge problem, and certain theatrical performances could be bawdy and inappropriate, just as certain films are today. But that is hardly the case for all alcohol, or all theater, or all picnics...or all dancing. Every one of these can and are used wholesomely by millions of Catholics around the world. I can't help wonder how some of these mission fathers would react to the popularity of home brewing clubs popping up in Catholic parishes, or Bingo night at the parish hall.
Conclusion: Recurrent Boomerism
We have gone a bit far afield and must bring the conversation back to the question of dancing. In my opinion, the lack of discrimination between wholesome and unwholesome recreation suggests a certain deficiency of balance in how these topics were approached. The condemnations of dancing in the Patristic period had to do with remnants of pagan worship, which is hardly relevant to situations like the waltz. As for the modern stigmatization of dances by these 19th century clergy, some have speculated this was a result of residual Jansenism still lingering about in the clergy. And the Church has certainly always had its share of moralizing puritans, ever eager to treat everything from curly-toed shoes to facial hair as crises indicative of societal decay. But I also think—at least when it comes to dancing—that there is a kind of generational recurrent Boomerism at play throughout all of Church history, a sense of "the youth are doing something new that I don't understand and therefore it must be bad." After all, kids will occasionally do stupid things, and impetuousness is a characteristic of youth. And occasionally soul-destroying fads do emerge from youth culture, as we saw in the late 1960s. I would argue, however, that in ages of broad social transformation (such as the 19th century), these concerns balloon to the point where youth culture is viewed with skepticism in toto, and criticism becomes irrationally crystalized on one particular trend that stands for the whole. It is akin to “Nobody wants to work anymore,” a complaint about the youth heard across human history which is surely true in very particular cases but utterly fails as a general analysis. I believe the preachers like Fr. Francis X. Weninger and Jacques de Vitry were speaking from this mindset. They were undoubtedly good men who had the best of intentions, but we all know the type—the moralizing preacher for whom everything is a mortal sin, everyone already has one foot in hell, and the average schlub is lucky if he barely makes it to the bottom rung of Purgatory. These were men for whom the mere sight of young people enjoying themselves was a cause for concern.
In our own day, as well, we see immense social transformation, coupled with deep-seated concerns about everything young people are doing. But if social transformation has brought new dangers, it also brings new remedies. In an age where the majority of Americans are obese from a hyper-sedentary lifestyle, where digital interactions and online dating have upended relations between the sexes, where young people rot in their beds alone for hours on end scrolling porn and gooning, where 45% of women are predicted to be single and childless by 2030, social dancing is the last thing we need to worry about. In fact, social dancing is a wholesome and robust remedy to the crippling isolation and self-referential nature of modern life.
Now maybe you agree with the 19th century moralists that picnics, theater, fiction, and all manner of recreation are bad and should be prohibited to young people; if so, please prepare yourself for your children to abandon the faith, which they inevitably will as soon as they loosen themselves from your suffocating, sanctimonious grasp.
Notes
(1) Jay Dolan, Catholic Revivalism (University of Notre Dame Press: Notre Dame, IN, 1978) 110-111
(2) Ibid., 177
(3) Mats Nilson, "Dance and 'Folk Devils'" in Waltzing Through Europe (OpenBook Publishers: Cambridge, U.K., 2020), 376
(4) Nilson, 378
(5) Dance and 'Folk Devils' 375-377
(6) Peter Konieczy, "How Did Medieval People Dance?" Medievalists.net, June, 2023. Available online at https://www.medievalists.net/2023/06/medieval-dance/
(7) Ibid.
(8) Dolan, 151, 110, 103
(9) Ibid., 103
(10) See Bishop John Ireland, The Catholic Church and the Saloon (Buffalo: Catholic Truth Society, 1894), 1
(11) Dolan, 152
(12) Ireland, 1. This message was preached at the parish level at all. A sermon survives from St. Paul's in New York in which the pastor said, "I have such a hatred of the saloon that if it were in my power tomorrow to take the liquor traffic out of this country and sink it in the Atlantic, I would do it. The saloon evil is at the bottom of most of our misery" (Dolan, 151).
(14) The information in this section can be found in Dolan, pp. 108-112
1 comment:
Also forgot to add, I can't find any reference to the morality of dancing in the Denzinger or Prummer. Whether that means anything or I'm just lazy and can't find it I'll let people smarter than me figure out.
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