holidays
Secular Liturgy
But I've found I need liturgy in my life. Liturgies help me mark seasons. More than that, liturgies create seasons. That's what I really need, because the creation of seasons becomes, for me, a discipline of memory.
Liturgies help me to count my days, which in turn helps me to make my days count.
I used to chafe at the remembrance of birthdays. Why should one day count more than any other? And why should one day seem more a holiday than another?
I'm slowly getting it. There is nothing special about the day; what is special is the use of the day. Cheerless debunkers never tire of pointing out to me that western Christmas is celebrated on a Roman holiday, that Easter is *really* some kind of fertility rite because it's celebrated in the springtime, that all my holidays don't mean what I think they mean because someone once celebrated them in another way. As though the genealogy of the holiday should be its only meaning, as though the celebrations of the past should have magical power over me, as though I had no power to make the days mean something new to me.
And it is true: holidays and liturgies do have power. As I have said before, what we cherish in our hearts we worship, and what we worship we come to resemble or imitate. Holidays are always about remembering, and remembering is cherishing. Of course, we don't all cherish the same things. Memorial Day is, for some, a remembrance of valor and sacrifice. For others, it is a good day for a picnic with family. Both are forms of cherishing, though the thing cherished is quite different.
Much of the difference probably comes from mindfulness and intention, or lack of intention. Everyone cherishes something, but not all of us think about what we cherish. Liturgies help me to cherish mindfully.
Which is why every April 4th I read or listen to Dr. King's "I Have A Dream" speech, and weep at his loss. And why every July 4th I read the Declaration of Independence. I have set aside days in my year, every year, to read texts like these, texts that have shaped my community. Because these texts aren't done with their shaping. Texts don't hit us once and do all their work; texts seep into us, their words become our words.
Reading and re-reading and reading aloud in communities - these things are like the pouring of water through leaves or grounds - the reading percolates through the words and picks up the essential oils, the savor, the color and taste of the text, and delivers it to us like tea or hot coffee. We taste the words and then the words enter our guts, our veins, our souls.
I recently read an interview with a woman who said "I don't need to go to church to believe those things," referring to her church's beliefs. True. Just as I don't need to go to the gym to get exercise, or to believe that exercise is good for me. But if I don't make a habit of getting exercise, I find I tend not to get what my body needs. The urgent matters in life so easily overwhelm the important ones. Often, when I return from the gym, my wife asks me "How was the gym?" I always think, "It was hard. Everything I do at the gym is difficult." But it is worth doing, because it helps me to maintain my health, and to fight my own decline, to fight the slow slipping away of what I want to hold onto as long as I can. If I do this for my body, why should I not also do it for my heart and mind?
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| The words percolate through us, and enter our veins. |
I'm not writing this to endorse all liturgies. I'm confident that there are liturgies that celebrate awful things, and that there are participants in liturgies who make poor use of the liturgies they sit through. As with most of what I write here, I'm trying to sort out what I believe, and why -- as another kind of discipline, one of remembering, and of being mindful of what I believe.
The liturgy of Maundy Thursday is not an easy one, because it reminds me of two things I am capable of: I am capable, like Jesus, of washing others' feet, and of living a life of love; and I am capable, like Jesus' friends, of betraying those people and ideals I most claim to cherish and worship. If my worship is only worship in words, I find it easy to forget to worship what is best with my body, with my life. Liturgies - and we all have liturgies - are the ways I remind my whole person to stop and remember what my words claim so easily to believe.
Come Along, Inspector Jesus?
When my youngest son was still quite small, he loved the Advent hymn, “Come Thou Long Expected Jesus.” We think he loved it in part because he loved the movie “Inspector Gadget,” and he thought the words were “Come Along, Inspector Jesus.” (We had several such mis-hearings of hymns, it turns out. Another favorite was the second line of “Jesus, Lover of My Soul,” which my son heard not as “Let me to thy bosom fly” but “Let me chew thy apple pie.” I think of apple pie as a gift from God, so I have no problem with this.)
I’m not sure why, but this year I’ve been more conscious than ever of Advent. It seems that everywhere I go I hear Christmas music during Advent, which has been striking me like Christmas carols on the fourth of July - a confusion of holidays. Liturgical calendars have left a shadow-impression of themselves on cultural calendars, but much of their detail has been lost. Who celebrates Pentecost, for instance? Yet it used to be one of the most important of Christian holidays. Christmas and Easter are great gift-giving holidays, but Lent’s main appearance seems to be in Mardi Gras.
I don’t plan to be a curmudgeon about this, and lament that we’ve lost the “good old days” of piety and that today’s culture is somehow more degenerate than yesterday’s. I’m quite fond of today, actually. (It’s where I live, after all!) I don’t dislike being wished a “Merry Christmas” in Advent any more than I disliked hearing my son sing “Come along, Inspector Jesus!” (And no, I don’t mind being wished “Happy Holidays” either. Anyone who wants to wish me well on any given day is always welcome to do so!)
But I do think that it’s worth revisiting old ideas to see if we’ve “mis-heard” them. For myself, it has been a delight to be in Advent this year. When I’ve heard Christmas carols (as early as November!) I’ve tried to think of Advent hymns instead. The result has been that I’ve been nurturing the pleasure of expectation and anticipation, and, now that Christmas is upon us, singing those Christmas hymns is going to be a real treat.
However you celebrate these days, whether you distinguish Advent from Christmas and Epiphany, or celebrate Christmas from Hallowe’en to Mardi Gras, or if you just finished celebrating Hanukkah, or are enjoying some other holiday, I wish you all the best that holiday has to offer. And if you celebrate no holy-days, but are only having some time off, I wish you good rest in that. And for all of us, I wish us good hearing, joy in mis-hearings, and better ears to hear in the future.
Reading the Holidays
This practice of reading the holidays began for me about ten years ago on July 4th. I decided then that I'd re-read the Declaration of Independence and the U.S. Constitution. I was guessing that it had been so long since I'd read them, I'd probably forgotten much of what they say. My experiment proved my guess to be right.
I was struck, as I read them, just how remarkable these documents are. Since then, I've repeated this almost every year. Each time I re-read these documents, I find them moving. They're beautifully written, and they strive for things that are, in my estimation, praiseworthy.
I've begun to add other readings for other holidays as well. On MLK, Jr. Day, (and sometimes on April 4, the anniversary of his death) I listen to his "I Have A Dream" speech or read his "Letter from a Birmingham Jail." I admit it: both of these regularly make me cry.
Of course, I also read the appointed Scriptures for Christmas, Easter, and Pentecost, and for some other feast days as well. But here I'm interested in those holidays that are not holy-days but secular feasts. How about you? Do you have readings you associate with such holidays? What do you recommend?
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* (If you're interested, you can see my article on Puritanism by clicking here and searching for pp 631-632)