Shall we dance?

Imam Ibrahim removed his black gown and taqiyah, a sort of linen stocking cap.

"With this I shed the darkness of Self, of Ego, of Sin, so that I may be born to Truth and Love."

One follower took the dark garments from him, another handed him a white robe and cap.

"The cap," he explained for newcomers, "is my ego's tombstone. The robe my ego's shroud.

He spread his arms wide, "symbolizing the oneness of God," right palm cupped facing the havens "to capture the blessing of God," the left palm facing down, "to humbly transfer through my body the many blessings of God to the earth and all its sentient creatures."

Doing so he bowed his head.

Music began, hand drums and cymbals at first, then something similar to a clarinet, then guitar and an accordion sort of instrument,

"The drum comes first, symbolizing the beating of the human heart in the mother's womb, and of God's order to Creation: 'Be!'"

Fatima, the born dancer who had studied the music and dance of every Middle Eastern culture, had somehow missed this one. Slowly she began to move with the music, suddenly stopped. She had never before danced before men -- excepting on that first night in Honolulu when the Chinese agent failed to show and she was forced into a brief belly dance at Club Le Boing Boing before she got fired -- much less danced with men.

Beside her, Lt. Basel Zakly Faris, USMC, was beginning to sway.

"Ultimately, Sufi dancing is about the revolving circle," the young imam said, swaying side to side, "for the more we understand science, the more we see God's grand design -- everything revolves, from the spinning of Mother Earth as it revolves around the sun down to the revolution of electrons, protons and neutrons in every atom. By dancing in revolutions, we remind ourselves of that basic essence we share with all God's creation. As we turn, we turn toward Truth, toward Love, toward God."

With a sideways grin, he added "But it is too early after dinner to spin, as you may have seen the so-called Whirling Dervishes do. We shall make our circles bigger. As you dance, meditate on Love."

The crowd of 100 people or so spread across the broad lanai and out to the grassy coconut grove that led down to the beach, holding their arms out as Imam Ibrahim did, finding their own beat, their own revolutions.

"I understand your hesitance to dance with men, Fatima, and admire your virtue," Baz whispered. "But here, you dance only for God. With God."

And so she danced. She danced for Allah, as she always did, praise his name. And she danced for her mission. In doing so, she found surprising pleasure in dancing also for Baz. Who was a pretty good dancer himself.