Ceremony provides necessary perspective
Ceremonies matter. Breaking away from daily routines and gathering with others to reflect on important events or ideas is a healthy practice. It's the reason why societies proclaim holidays or, for that matter, why people go to church. Ceremonies and rituals encourage us to forsake our individualisms. They remind us that we belong to much larger communities and are part of a stream of history.
These matters were playing in my mind on Remembrance Day, when once again I walked a couple of short blocks to a small park on Valour Road where each November 11 my neighbours and others gather to pay tribute to the war heroes who once lived on our street. Fifteen years ago some 30 or 40 hearty souls would gather, often shivering through the ceremonies and beating a hasty retreat to the warmth of our homes.
But this year we enjoyed a gorgeous day, filled with sunshine and glowing with warmth. I stood at the fringes of a crowd of several hundred clustered in a large circle around a steel sculpture honouring the fallen warriors of Valour Road. The sound system was woefully inadequate. It always is. But, so what?
Our rituals are well established and the message doesn't really change. We read the citations of our local heroes. We sing the national anthem and "God Save the Queen" in wispy voices snatched quickly away by the breeze. Bits of the brief speeches by politicians fall forgettably upon our ears. Someone reads "In Flanders Fields." Regiments of veterans in ceremonial garb march a ragged dress parade. A chaplain prays, his fervency suppressed in ceremonial reserve. The ceremony ends with benediction, a blessing to send us on our way.
And through it all my neighbours and I stand with sombre visages and solemn countenances, rare emotion blubbering in our hearts and a sense of solidarity swelling among us. We hear the old, old stories, and earnestly resolve to remember. We feel kindly about the people around us because we see once again how much we actually rely on others, and how much of what we either suffer or enjoy depends on matters beyond our control. For a few moments we are put in our place, and the experience equips us to face the world. So much like church, eh? So much like going to church.
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