Holy Ground

“Ritual is necessary for us to know anything.” ~ Ken Kesey, American author, best known for “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” (1935-2001)

I was nestled uncomfortably between Roberto and Javier. Both wore lace up sneakers and dark pants with elastic waistbands (signs of special privilege in their world). Roberto, whose girlfriend’s name was tattooed on his chin, compulsively smoothed his flat shoelaces with his thumbs placing them at a precise 30 degree angle.

Glancing side to side at each of them I pondered how different were the worlds from whence we had come. I am a baby boomer with a Masters Degree, born into a conservative, white, east-coast, Presbyterian, nuclear family. As the middle child and the oldest son of five, we were not well to do, but I never knew real hunger, poverty or danger. My wife and I married in our twenties after a formal courtship. Our daughter was born two years after our wedding. If you looked up “middle class” in the dictionary, you would see my picture.

Javier’s and Roberto’s stories are much different than mine. They are first generation Hispanic and grew up on the mean streets of Los Angeles. Both survived their gang initiation. Neither have parents to speak of; before arriving at the facility Javier lived with his grandmother, and Roberto with his older half sister. Though still in his teens, Roberto has a two year old daughter. Neither finished High School and both learned to fight, steal and survive before they were twelve.

Both were at the detention camp, where we now sat, for parole violations meaning this was not their first time. Their pants and shoes were signs of good behavior for which they received special privileges (others wore shoes with Velcro straps or slip-ons). Shoelaces can be used to harm others, and one’s self, so being permitted to have them was a sign of trust.

“Nothing in common” I thought. What was a 50ish middle class guy like me going to say to these two? How would I be able to relate to these two “boys” who were, for all intents and purposes, streetwise kids, old and jaded before their time?

And then…Mass started.

Rituals are a feature of almost all known human societies. Whether it is as simple as brushing our teeth every night, just before we go to bed, or as grand as high Mass at St. Peter’s Basilica ritual is a necessary part of our lives. Rituals introduce us to the community (i.e. baptism, Brit Milah or bris) or act as rites of passage (i.e. confirmation, Bar Mitzvah, gang initiation, or even ordination). They also escort us out of this life (i.e. wakes, sitting Shiva, Los Dios de los Muertos).

Though it exists in all aspects of our lives, the word “ritual” seems foreign and obscure to most of us. Shrouded in mystery and incense we see it as part of another world or time. And yet, ritual has a very practical side. In a world of uncertainty it provides us constancy and comfort. Life is sometimes scary, because it is always unpredictable. From the psychologists’ point of view ritual is a form of repetitive behavior systematically used to suppress or prevent anxiety. But most importantly, ritual helps us to know what to do in those times when we do not.

I can prepare for work in the early morning because I have a “ritual:” doing certain things in a certain order often without thinking. Funeral rituals help us to get through the particularly difficult times in our lives when loved ones die. Rituals sustain us and give us hand holds in an otherwise uncertain world. Colors, symbols and certain actions take on significance.

But, imagine for a moment you are Javier or Roberto living with nothing to “ground” you in life. Never knowing what will happen to you or how to respond when it does; never having the constancy of a family or a sense of safety or security. Is it any wonder the young people in their position are so easily enticed into joining a gang? The certainty and identity a gang provides, harsh as it may be, is more attractive than the uncertainty of the lives they were living before. They know what to expect, how to behave, what colors to wear and even what marks (tattoos) to place on their bodies. It suppresses the anxiety in their lives.

So where did I find a place in which I could relate to Roberto and Javier; in the ritual of Mass. It was the only common ground we had. It was an opportunity to enter each other’s world safely. Rather than a gang tattoo we identified ourselves by the sign of the cross. Rather than an intricate handshake as a greeting, we hugged one another at the sign of peace. And when it came time to receive the Eucharist we approached Christ as equals, receiving the same infinite measure of love which is Christ’s promise.

In the end the only common ground, was holy ground.

Dear God: May I meet others today on holy ground.

“To pray together, in whatever tongue or ritual, is the most tender brotherhood of hope and sympathy that man can contract in this life.” ~ Madame de Staël, French-Speaking Swiss author (1766-1817)


© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.

“90 Second Stewardship” is a reflection on being a Christian Steward in a secular and sometimes harsh world. This reflection is written by James E. Carper, Stewardship Coordinator for Saint Monica Catholic Community in Santa Monica, California. All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.