Why do I feel so refreshed and renewed after prayer, song and communion? Why does the fact that I love to get up out of my pew and move, prayerfully, toward the table and the bank of candles at Hope Central Church every week matter so much? Sinking down into myself in honest and frank confession is followed by the standing up to receive the good news of forgiveness and a fresh start. "We are only human and doing the best that we can," is, like Hilary said in her sermon, not a cop out. The tacit assumption is that we are trying to do and be the best we possibly can be, honestly and with a sense of humility. The simple, symbolic act of walking together towards the Feast and then on towards candles lit in recognition of needs yet unmet fills me with a sense of purpose and commonality.
In a kind of goofy way, I see a similar need fulfillment in my work at the library where we are preparing for our November Cardboard Tube War. Yes, war. But yesterday, my band of 7th grade boys and I spent an hour examining the reasons why we love to fight each other. We realized that we weren't in an angry place, we were in a state of mutual enjoyment. Is this a male thing? An ancient biological/psychological re-enactment of the Hunt? A power trip? It was fascinating to hear them talk. They loved each other while they were "fighting."
Eli said later to me, after we worked on our cardboard shields and armor, "Ellen, can we have Philosophy Club more than once a week?"
I feel the same way about worship! The Gestalt of boyish combat is not death, dying, morbid selfishness. Is it symbolic play, a dance, finding community, shared ritual, perhaps ?
They see the Hero as the person who sacrifices for the group to survive, fighting evil, dying if necessary, like Harry Potter, only to be reborn in a transformed way. Sound familiar?
