If you ever spend time with children you know that
birthdays are kind of a big deal. And if you've ever been around a
younger sibling you'll know that each marker of coming of age, no matter how
slight, can dominate that child's life and anticipation for months. A
while ago my niece was turning five. And she had been talking about it
for months. I happened to spend a good bit of time with her over the
course of the celebration. When I went to my brother's house for the
celebration I noticed that as all of her grandparents, parents, sisters and I
greeted her we would exclaim, "Happy Birthday!" Some would ask
if she feels older or if she's excited. And there was this strange slight
unwillingness to accept that she was five. For all the build-up, she
appeared disengaged from the exclamations of those around her. We ate dinner,
and then the flaming cake walked toward her. After we finished singing
she paused, blew out the candles, and looked up at me saying, "I'm
five!" You see, for her, she didn't turn five until the ritual was
complete. It didn't matter that the day had come marking the anniversary
of her birth. She didn't care that she had eclipsed even the exact time
of day that she entered the world. No, for her, blowing out the candles
marked the passage from four to five. There is something we need in the
ritual. We crave it even as children.
Did you notice during the Olympics how the athletes
remain focused and composed during the competition, and they have a sense of
celebration when their names are posted as a gold medalist. However, the
tears, the indication that the depth and breadth of what is happening in their
life has moved into their emotional identity, they come on the winner's stand.
A medal is placed around their necks, they are handed flowers.
Flags raise high. The familiar tune of their national anthem
begins, and something changes.
It makes me think about discussions I've had with people about the
Sacraments and rituals. Does one truly have salvation prior to or without Baptism?
Am I reconciled with Christ if I never commune? Do I know what I believe if I never declare a Creed? Does the Holy Spirit fail to enter a sanctuary if we don't light any candles?
I think that any
movement toward removing all ritual from our Christian faith is simply
dangerous. The abstractions may still occur, but we miss something when
we ignore the ritual. Ritual without meaning can be death, but ritual
steeped in symbolic actualization and spiritual substance gives us more
than we realize.
Soundtrack: Happy Birthday; Phos Hilaron, Passion
