Earlier this year I viewed a TV news item about the tribute paid to Lance Appleby who went missing off South Australia’s west coast; the victim of a shark attack. We briefly saw friends and surfing colleagues in wetsuits who had formed a large circle in the water near the site of Lance’s disappearance. Even in that difficult setting appropriate words were expressed and Lance was given a farewell that reflected his love of the surf in that location and people’s respect for him.
I recall another creative act of respect at Leeton in New South Wales some years ago where hot air balloons hung in the sky at daybreak. It was a moving tribute to a much-loved community member who had also died in tragic circumstances and a powerful expression of support for her family and loved ones.
More recently the Row Past for Melbourne Grammar student Edward Millear who died during rowing training was a moving tribute by his fellow rowers.
Rituals and creative ceremonies give us a framework into which we can insert our own thoughts, identify with national, local or family history and from which we can derive comfort. Life’s ritual moments, including the joyful ones, serve to remind us that we live within a time span and that it passes all too quickly. They may be wholly religious, completely secular or a blend of both. They can strike a chord in our hearts or just wash over us. At a funeral, for example, the fact that family and friends gather in the one place at the one time speaks volumes. The sprinkling of earth, the releasing of doves or balloons, each encapsulates a message in a nutshell.
Part of the beauty of such moments is that, as individuals, we can attribute meaning to them within the privacy of our own thoughts and feelings and in the light of our own experience. They touch each of us uniquely because of that. We are not being told what we ought to think or believe and, for that reason, symbolic acts in such a context respect the individual.
For a time, I believed that our community understanding of the value of ceremonial and ritual was being lost. Perhaps in some instances it has faded, but I think now that it’s part of adapting to the multi-faith and multi-cultural community in which we live. Of late there seems to be a growing understanding that ritual and ceremonial observances really do feed a corporate and individual need and that participation in them is a healthy way of expressing unity in diversity. ANZAC observances have been a shining example of this and the deep offence felt at this year’s disruption of Melbourne’s Shrine observance perhaps emphasises the point.
The basic ingredients of grief and loss, remembrance, respect and sympathy may all be represented symbolically. Placing flowers, lighting candles; such things may speak to the soul rather than the intellect. They are valid expressions of faith and hope when words won’t do the job.
by Reverend Jim Pilmer PSM OAM OStJ