RE Dance Group sometimes feels like the little company that could, plodding along, making one show a year in the times when co-founders Lucy Vurusic Riner and Michael Estanich can steal away from their full-time teaching jobs. RE Dance’s latest is “A Glimpse Through the Walls Where We Might Find God,” running through Jan. 25 at Chicago Danztheatre Ensemble. This multi-arts performance space, converted a decade ago from what used to be Ebenezer Lutheran Church’s auditorium, still has trappings of religiosity that are impossible to ignore. A gorgeous stained-glass window and altar table form the backdrop for “A Glimpse Through the Walls,” but in his latest effort, primary RE Dance choreographer Estanich doesn’t appear to align with any particular faith tradition — even as he recites passages by Thomas Aquinas. Instead, he’s looking generally for proof of God’s existence, in an “Are you there, God? It’s me, Michael,” kind of way. Estanich has compositional habits, lending a kind of aesthetic signature and expectation to each of his works. It’s not formulaic, exactly — more like Edward Hopper than, say, Monet’s series of “Waterlilies.” And what we’ve come to know after 15 years and as many long, symphonic dances, is that Estanich is both highly generative — developing richly satisfying movement vocabularies — and deeply introspective, often trapped between the physical, metaphysical and mystical worlds. He uses dance to work all that out, employing journal entries and other musings to build reliably beautiful realms that give audiences permission to search our own souls, too. Members of the RE Dance group rehearse at Ebenezer Lutheran Church on Jan. 15, 2025. (Armando L. Sanchez/Chicago Tribune) Members of the RE Dance group rehearse at Ebenezer Lutheran Church on Jan. 15, 2025. (Armando L. Sanchez/Chicago Tribune)   I wouldn’t necessarily say “A Glimpse” is RE Dance’s strongest effort, but perhaps it’s just this company getting used to a mostly new-to-them venue. Estanich leans into its eccentricities, using the stairs and altar table and adding iridescent pillars that might visually occlude a head or whole body from time to time. This is by design, and something he and scenic designer Sarah E. Ross played with last year in “A Delicate Hand” at Hamlin Park Fieldhouse. What you can see depends on where you sit. Costume designer Sam Baxter’s mixed, muted color pallet of pedestrian separates further play up the liminality between what we see and what we don’t. But for some reason, I didn’t feel as transported. Despite having literal places to hide, super-close proximity leaves nothing to the imagination for these eight performers, each efforting through Estanich’s protracted phrase work mere inches from onlookers. It’s not an unwelcome sensation to see and hear that exertion — finding God is hard work, after all. An eclectic cast, ranging from dancers in their 20s to their 50s, gels for a bouncy jaunt (pro forma in Estanich’s works), with each dancer having generous time and vocabulary for him or herself. It’s impossible to take it all in at once; try, and the piece comes across as jumbled and disorganized. It’s not. You just have to pick something and stay with it for a while, then move to something else, accepting you can’t see it all. From left, Corinne Imberski and Taylor Taylor of the RE Dance group rehearse at Ebenezer Lutheran Church on Jan. 15, 2025. (Armando L. Sanchez/Chicago Tribune) “A Glimpse” forms the back half of the evening, which begins with two appetizers by company members Corinne Imberski and KT Williams. Imberski gives a master class on solo performance called “Only the Shape of You,” set to a gorgeous, multilayered score by Lia Kohl. A poem by Rumi is Imberski’s metaphorical launchpad, inviting viewers to live in the here and now by remembering time is fleeting. Accordingly, “Only the Shape of You” looks both meticulously crafted and spontaneously improvised, catching familiar sounds like wind, or a fleeting piano sonata in Kohl’s music. Imberski has danced long enough that she needn’t “perform” to draw you in. She’s intentional, but not careful, employing simplistic lighting (by Sarah Lackner) and monochromatic, unremarkable clothing — it’s more about what she leaves out than what she folds in. A duet for Williams and Caitlyn Schrader called “Soft Grip” appears deliberately rife with contrasts. The two women wear a loud, fluorescent pallet (compiled by costumer Tara Webb) — a look they might share with fashionable traffic cones or crossing guards. They spend the first moments of the piece casually, inaudibly chatting on the upstage stairs while removing white Dr. Martens. Loud clothes and soft chatter. The first section of “Soft Grip” is spent entirely on the floor, mostly prone; when they get up, Williams and Schrader make intense eye contact with us and each other. Bashful and confident. Slow to start, the piece evolves into a series of gratifyingly whole-bodied passages consuming all of CDE’s peachy dance floor. By turns, the two women appear loving, then competitive — combative even — oscillating between precise unity and independence, staring at each other often but not touching until halfway through. They kneel side-by-side, bumping shoulders and tipping each other over. It feels a little like twins whose mother dressed them exactly alike as children, and who are now trying to carve out who they are as independent people. Williams says in a program note “Soft Grip” is about the histories, lineages and social experiences of womanhood. To that end, I’m not sure she’s successful. Fifteen minutes in electric orange fringed pants can hardly be expected to capture all of womanhood. Then again, doing what should be impossible in uncomfortable clothing pretty much sums it up. Review: “A Glimpse Through the Walls Where We Might Find God” (3 stars) When: Through Jan. 25 Where: Chicago Danztheatre Ensemble at Ebenezer Lutheran Church, 1650 W. Foster Ave. Running time: 1 hour, 30 minutes Tickets: $20-$50 at redancegroup.org