Tharp’s “Sweet Fields,” created in 1996, marries Jennifer Tipton’s stark, shadowed lighting with Norma Kamali’s gently floating white costumes—a perfect evocation of the ethos of the Shakers, whose 18th and 19th century hymns form the score. (As someone who once lived in Appalachia and sang from the Sacred Harp hymnal partially sampled here, I especially appreciated the stylistic commitment of Doug Fullington’s Tudor Choir; those bold harmonies have to be sung with a resilient, nasal power.)

Intellectually, the wonderment is in how Tharp can marry any movement vernacular to a ballet base: in this case, a rond de jambe leg sweeping out with a flexed foot organically becomes a Shaker congregant striding through spirited worship. Emotionally, it’s Tharp’s understanding of the Shaker ethos that touches the heart. Death is the ever-present equalizer: In the third hymn, the men hoist one of their brothers in corpse position above, but exactly who is in the position of the dead man keeps changing (sometimes spectacularly, as four dancers throw one plank-like body so that he spins laterally, like a helicopter blade overhead). Men and women mostly dance separate sections, and hardly touch (Shakers are celibate, of course), but the women have strength and parity—remember, this is a religion that believes the Second Coming of Christ occurred in a woman, their leader Mother Ann Lee, who thus united God’s male and female qualities.

It feels fitting to the ethos of equality that none of the dozen dancers in the cast were principals, and each glowed like children of God. Ashton Edwards led the skipping full ensemble section with an aura of joy. Juliet Prine brought an especially lyrical dignity to a soft, circling solo. “Death itself shall die,” the final hymn proclaimed, the bodies again hoisted into funeral horizontality. It’s an unsentimental conviction that becomes even more moving when you consider that one Shaker community does still exist, in Maine, with three members who hope for new converts.