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Keisha E. McKenzie | communication | systems | social good

rituals

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Martinez: Proving beliefs with our lives

A candlelit ritual at Unity of Gaithersburg.
Photo: Jeanne Schellhase.

The book of James, one of my favorite books in the Christian scriptures, is famous for the phrase “Faith without works is dead.” The writer argues that we demonstrate belief with the actions we take: our convictions have material consequences and we prove our commitment with the degree to which we’ll live out what we believe.

 Suppose a brother or a sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,’ but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it?” —James 2:15-16

So many people have been moved to adopt symbols of resistance to bigotry in the last week. The safety pin has helped would-be-allies to find one another, and has also very quickly spurred discussions on whether adopters would go on to design more active and more visible social interventions, and how willing they were to receive feedback from those they wanted to be supportive of.

The argument in James has implications for personal change as well as social change. In the book The Mind-Body Code, Mario Martinez writes about what it takes to rewire our automatic and autonomic responses to life circumstances. He says it takes both routines and rituals:

Living a theory entails embodying its principles in the form of actions. And to sustain a change, to live the theory, actions must become rituals… Routine is action we take to maintain a level of functioning, whereas ritual is meaningful action that defines who we are in our culture.” —Mario Martinez

Personal and social changes are less about willpower and more about collective design: when we reframe how we perceive ourselves, relate to others, and interact with the external world, we can make it that much easier for ourselves to choose whatever serves us—not just “me” and not just “my group,” but us.

Rituals allow us to express shared meanings; they’re like stories we’re acting out as we go about life, and they help us to embody, a little more each time, the values we say motivate us most.

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Embracing Denial and Starting Again

The first stage of grief and the first step toward health are both denial. Yet if we’re to heal, however long it takes, we can’t live in either.

I’m reclaiming denial as a stage that honors the stakes of our situation. Perhaps we risk physical death. Perhaps we risk losing our sense of common identity with someone we’ve loved or a group we’ve cherished.

Denial testifies that Yes, we love being alive and don’t want to stop; yes, we care for that person and their well-being; yes, we believe in that group and what it has the potential to offer the world.

But we can’t live there.

A bowl lies on its side, open top pointing toward us. Tiny colored folded papers are aflame inside.
The classic burning bowl. Let your stuff go. Photo credit: Julie Jeske

The minute we know more than we once did, the old is gone, and we have to release it. Really, it was gone before we realized it was, and what hung back was our own projection of it. It is gone. And we can’t call it back by wishing.

In the end, it’s worse to lose the old and then also lose the new through rejecting it for an old projection that no longer matches reality. Better to simply lose what was. And better still to cede the old to the passage of time and seek to re-encounter what stands in its place. The re-encounter means we don’t have to lose everything.

For leaving the stage of denial, then, the most important virtue isn’t equanimity or indifference. You don’t have to stop caring. You don’t have to become a higher order of human, if such a thing exists. The most important value is simple humility.

There are fewer than 8 days left in the year, and lots of people will participate in “burning bowl” ceremonies around New Years’ that ritualize this lesson. But you don’t have to wait that long if there’s an old thoughtform or belief or memory or relationship or approach to life that no longer serves you well.

Get a metal bucket with sand at the bottom or a mini-grill outside. Follow the instructions for fire safety, and write down your thing(s), and let that stuff go.

Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year when it comes.