Jocelyn
by Jack Huffman

The church is big enough that they feel the need to have a signer for their deaf brothers and sisters. I have no idea how many deaf people are in that church, but apparently there’s some because every Sunday morning there’s Jocelyn up there, dressed in navy blue or black, careening away with her arms, hands and legs, motioning a secret language to a small audience within a crowd of 2500 congregates within a larger church of 12,000. It’s fascinating. It’s captivating, in fact. Because, there’s a message in it, even to me.

She’s always in black or dark colors so that the deaf can see her hands and her fingers against her clothing. There are no exceptions to this. Ever.

She sways to and fro, a silent rhythm within a silent language. . . her forearms crossing and uncrossing, her hands flexing, pointing and flying across her face and above her head. A dance of words. A ballet of silence.

When the band plays, her legs bend at her knees and her feet move in a beat with the music. Her hands and arms still signaling to the deaf. . . lyrically to the hammering of the drums and the pulse of the bass guitars. Jocelyn’s pulse matches the bass and the dance of words unfolds for the entire audience, the church, they clap with the beat of the music, Jocelyn’s hands fly above her head and both hands flutter, held out to the audience. The arms and hands lower with the beat of music and the rhythmic clapping of the crowd. . . Her fingers emerge, digits of twos and threes, pointing and contorting in different lines and frames…all in a language to those who have but one language: silence. Jocelyn makes it understood to them. 

But, even more can understand her song. One doesn’t have to be deaf to listen to Jocelyn’s music, only blind. Even without the signing, Jocelyn’s joy is spread across her pretty face, her shimmering eyes as the dance moves on…some with words, some with music. And, all with the dance. Jocelyn’s signs are not just for the deaf. Her dance of God is her most emphatic signing. And that language is understood by anyone that wants to understand it, not just the few in the audience for whom it was originally meant.

Her gift is on display for the deaf. Her joy is God’s gift to everyone else.

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