I'm 5

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