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 ritual
 A
surgeon becomes a writer. He asks himself why. Why does a man "whose fingers
are more at home in the steamy gullies of the body . . . who feels the
slow slide of intestines against the back of his hand and is no more alarmed
than were a family of snakes taking their comfort from such an indolent
rubbing. . . . [W]ho palms the human heart as though it were some captured
bird." Why would such a man write? "Is it vanity that urges
him? There is glory enough in the knife. Is it for money? One can make
too much money. No. It is to search for some meaning in the ritual of
surgery, which is at once murderous, painful, healing, and full of love.
It is a devilish hard thing to transmit—to find, even." [Richard
Selzer, Mortal Lessons: Notes on the Art of Surgery 15 (New York:
Simon and Schuster, 1976)]
"The
characteristic effect of mythic themes and motifs translated into ritual
. . . is that they link the individual to transindividual purposes and
forces. . . . [I]n all areas of human social intercourse, ritualized procedures
depersonalize the protagonists, drop or lift them out of themselves, so
that their conduct now is not their own but of the species, the society
. . . or the profession. Hence, for example, the rituals of investiture
of judges, or of officers of the state: those so installed are to function
in their roles, not as private individuals but as agents of collective
principles and laws. And even in private business exchanges, the patternings
of deeds and contracts, bargainings and threats of recourse to law constitute
the ritual rules of a recognized game, relieving the confrontation—to
some extent, at least—of personal accent. Without such game rules
no society would exist; nor would any individual have the slightest idea
how to act." [Joseph Campbell, Myths to Live
By 56-57 (New York: Bantam, 1973)]
"The
function of ritual . . . is to give form to human life, not in the way
of a mere surface arrangement, but in depth. In ancient times every social
occasion was ritually structured and the sense of depth was rendered through
the maintenance of a religious tone. Today, on the other hand, the religious
tone is reserved for exceptional, very special 'sacred' occasions. And
yet even in the patterns of our secular life, ritual survives. It can
be recognized, for example, not only in the decorum of courts and regulations
of military life, but also in the manners of people sitting down to table
together.
Myths are the mental supports of rites; rites, the physical enactments
of myths. By absorbing the myths of his social group and participating
in its rites, the youngster is structured to accord with his social as
well as natural environment, and turned from an amorphous nature product,
prematurely born, into a defined and competent member of some specific,
efficiently functioning social order." [Joseph Campbell,
Myths to Live By 43, 45 (New York: Bantam, 1973)]
"Ritual
cloaks the fundamental disharmonies of social structure by affirming major
loyalties to be beyond question." [Max Gluckman,
Politics, Law and Ritual in Tribal Society 299 (Chicago: Aldine
Publishing Company, 1965)]
"The
characteristic effect of mythic themes and motifs translated into ritual
. . . is that they link the individual to transindividual purposes and
forces. . . . [I]n all areas of human social intercourse, ritualized procedures
depersonalize the protagonists, drop or lift them out of themselves, so
that their conduct now is not their own but of the species, the society,
the caste, or the profession. Hence, for example, the rituals of investiture
of judges, or of officers of the state: those so installed are to function
in their roles, not as private individuals but as agents of collective
principles and laws. And even in private business exchanges, the patternings
of deeds and contracts, bargainings and threats of recourse to law constitute
the ritual rules of a recognized game, relieving the confrontation—to
some extent, at least—of personal accent. Without such game rules
no society would exist; nor would any individual have the slightest idea
how to act." [Joseph Campbell, Myths to Live
By 56-57 (New York: Bantam, 1973)]
"A
profession to be worthy of the name must inculcate in its members a strong
sense of the special obligations that attach to their calling. One who
undertakes the practice of a profession cannot rest content with the faithful
discharge of duties assigned to him by others. His work must find its
direction within a larger frame. All that he does must evidence a dedication,
not merely to a specific assignment, but to the enduring ideals of his
vocation. Only such a dedication will enable him to reconcile fidelity
to who he serves with an equal fidelity to an office that must at all
times rise above the involvements of immediate interest." ["Professional
Responsibility: Report of the Joint Conference," in Andrew Kaufman,
Problems in Professional Responsibility 2-16, at 4 (Boston: Little,
Brown, 2nd ed., 1984)]
When
we ask surgeons and lawyers why they do the work they do, we may find
they work for money, status, honor, acclaim, or power. Lawyers, like surgeons,
are urged on by vanity and by money, but beneath the "cover story"
Richard Selzer talks about a "ritual of surgery, which is at once
murderous, painful, healing, and full of love." Students of law too
are in search of something. We know that lawyers are human, mortal, infected
by the cultural currents of their time, yet, they quest beyond the sweet
smell of success in the many rituals of lawyering, standing forth as an
advocate, locating the client (and oneself) in and then escaping the labyrinth
of legal rules, tending to or rescuing those who have fallen into the
path of law's way, speaking truth to power, contesting the limits of fairness,
equality, and justice.
Consider the following observations by Erik Erikson on ritual: "[W]e
must realize from the outset that ritualization is an aspect of everyday
life which is more clearly seen in a different culture or class or even
family than in our own, where, in fact, ritualization is more often than
not experienced simply as the only proper way to do things; and the question
is only why does not everybody do it our way." The closer to home
we are the harder it is to see ritual. We see the ritual of others before
we see our own. Ritualized activity, the habits of craft, forgets itself.
The purpose is driven out of sight, goes underground, becomes unconscious.
Ritual is an activity that both denies and confirms context. It is easy
enough then, to understand how modernism destroys ritual.
Erikson claims a cultural value for ritualization in the elevation
of immediate personal needs into a broader communal context;
the teaching of good ways to do simple and practical task of
everyday life; deflecting feelings of unworthiness on others
without and within the culture; confirmations of identity and
the stages that it must pass through; placing cognitive patterns
of thought in service of a shared communal vision; the development
of sacramental meaning in particular activities; development
of a moral imagination, a kind of ethical discernment.
It is from the ritualizations of everyday life that we construct
a moral and human universe, the contexts we make, live, and break.
Erikson provides yet another way of seeing the situations we
are in (context) and the fragmentation of perspective (conditionality).
Context/ritualizations help us know our doing, to grant our doing
credence, and have it in turn sustain us. In doing, that which
is small and routine, and that which is public and significant,
we operate within a vision. "Visions are grounded in facts
verifiable in some detail and yet arranged to fit within a cosmology
and an ideology that unite groups of human beings in mutual actualizations."
Erikson suggests that we have a need, a deep human need for
a context that makes meaningful all other context, a perspective
from which one might stand to view all of human activity, our
own experiences and our own consciousness of the world. There
is a drive toward what Erikson calls a "shared vision."
The shared version of a communal world view makes it possible
to imagine an "eternal renewal" and "techniques
and rituals, hierarchies and battle lines" which delineate
an I that shares the world with others. "Only thus does
man feel protected against the doom of some primal curse-is it
that of non-existence?-and able to face the verdict of a last
judgment where only the elect few will be saved, while all others-those
excluded from choices-will perish." The urge for transcendence
gives rise to efforts to find a "shared vision." [Erik H Erickson, Toys and Reasons: Stages in the Ritualization of
Experience 80, 82-83, 122, 125 (New York: W.W. Norton, 1977)]
Joseph Campbell has pointed out that
The function of ritual . . . is to give form to human life,
not in the way of a mere surface arrangement, but in depth. In
ancient times every social occasion was ritually structured and
the sense of depth was rendered through the maintenance of a
religious tone. Today, on the other hand, the religious tone
is reserved for exceptional, very special "sacred"
occasions. And yet even in the patterns of our secular life,
ritual survives. It can be recognized, for example, not only
in the decorum of courts and regulations of military life, but
also in the manners of people sitting down to table together.
All life is structure.
* * * *
Myths are the mental supports of rites; rites, the physical
enactments of myths. By absorbing the myths of his social group
and participating in its rites, the youngster is structured to
accord with his social as well as natural environment, and turned
from an amorphous nature product, prematurely born, into a defined
and competent member of some specific, efficiently functioning
social order.
* * * *
The characteristic effect of mythic themes and motifs translated
into ritual, consequently, is that they link the individual to
transindividual purposes and forces. . . . [I]n all areas of human
social intercourse, ritualized procedures depersonalize the protagonists,
drop or lift them out of themselves, so that their conduct now
is not their own but of the species, the society, the caste,
or the profession. Hence, for example, the rituals of investiture
of judges, or of officers of the state: those so installed are
to function in their roles, not as private individuals but as
agents of collective principles and laws. And even in private
business exchanges, the patternings of deeds and contracts, bargainings
and threats of recourse to law constitute the ritual rules of
a recognized game, relieving the confrontation—to some extent,
at least—of personal accent. Without such game rules no society
would exist; nor would any individual have the slightest idea
how to act. ["The Importance of Rites,"
in Joseph Campbell, Myths to Live By 43-60, at 43, 45, 56-57
(New York: Bantam edition, 1973)].
"[W]e would expect ritualization to be a major link between
the ego's propensity for orientation in space and time and the
world views dominating (or competing in) a society. In psychopathology,
however, we can (and should) study the way ritualized schemes
of behavior have fallen apart, isolating persons and their lonely
conflicts. We may then offer therapeutic ritualizations which
provide new insights into human adaptation. But only in the study
of "live" ritualization in everyday life can we learn
how person and conflicts find a mutual fit in generational patterns,
or how, indeed, the lack of true ritualization or its decline
into false ritualism can lead to social pathology." [Erikson, Toys and Reasons: Stages in the
Ritualization of Experience, at 83-84]
Throughout life, the everyday establishment of boundaries
of good or bad and of clean and unclean as they culminate in
the judiciary ritual in the adult world fulfill the criteria
for all rituals: meaningful regularity; ceremonial attention
to detail and to the total procedure; a symbolic sense surpassing
the reality of each participant and of the deed itself; a mutual
activation of all concerned (including, or so it is hoped, the
confessing culprit); and a sense of absolute indispensability.
* * * *
In its full elaboration in the spectacle of a trial this judicious
element is reaffirmed on a grand scale, making all-visible on
the public stage a drama that is familiar to each individual's
inner life—for the law, we must be made to believe, is untiringly
watchful as is, alas, our conscience. The principle of it all,
written into our belief system as it is ossified in the lawbooks,
is fulfilled where law enforcement delivers a suitable culprit.
Once in the dock, he serves as "an example," on which
a multitude can project their inner shame, as his deeds are made
to parade past the parental judge, the fraternal jury, and the
chorus of the public. Judgment is pronounced as based on sanctified
agreement rather than on passing outrage or personal revenge;
and whether or not the culprit accepts the punishment with repentance,
and whether or not the punishment will, indeed, "teach him
a lesson," justice has been served.
* * * *
[T]here is no ritual-up to the Last Judgment-which does not
imply a severe discrimination between the sanctioned and the
out-of-bounds.
* * * *
To learn to avoid being laughed at, then, means to learn to
look at ourselves and our acts from outside and to adjust our
will to the views of those who judge us. But this also demands
the development of that inner self-watch which Freud called the
super-ego, that is, literally a part of ourselves standing watch
over the rest of ourselves and confronting us with detestable
self-images. We thus learn to look down upon ourselves as unworthy
and guilty, and are apt to do so with such cruelty that we sometimes
feel relieved only when punished. Nor could we face ourselves
did we not also learn to look down on others as we look down
on creeping creatures.
* * * *
[I]n the ritualization of approval and disapproval (in recurring
situations of high symbolic meaning) ...the adult speaks as a
judicial mouthpiece of a communal righteousness, damning the
deed, but giving another chance to the doer?
* * * *
In seeing the judicious factor at work, however, in public and in private,
we can also perceive where this form of ritualization can fail in its
adaptive function: in the convincing transmission of bearable and workable
boundaries from generation to generation. The judicial ritual at large,
with its task of establishing objective legal guilt as a threatening
example to potential culprits, is all too often too far removed from
the subjective processes which make a person feel morally liable. The
judicial system actually can feed on the morally unreliable, for it
tends to emphasize fearful compulsion to conform rather than free assent
to what feels right; it can emphasize the obsessively formalistic and
bureaucratic over the convincingly ceremonial; while with its display
it may feed sensational voyeurism, and in its penal procedures, moralistic
sadism. All of this increases the hopeless isolation of the culprit
and can aggravate a rage which will only make him more "shameless."
Thus, the second great element of ritualism comes to the fore, which
we may call legalism: the victory of the letter over the spirit of the
word and the law. It is expressed in the vain display of righteousness
or empty contrition, or in a moralistic insistence on exposing and isolating
the culprit whether or not this will be good for him or anybody else.
All this concerns the inner deals which human beings make with their
own sense of righteousness and shame, and the "political"
deals made possible by the legalistic mechanisms of justice.... As ritualization
fails to prevent the alternation of shameless impulsivity and meticulous
compulsivity, of excess and of self-restriction in individuals, so the
institution can fail to stem either widespread lawlessness or a punitive
miscarriage of justice. [Erikson, Toys and
Reasons: Stages in the Ritualization of Experience, at 96, 95-96, 92,
93, 94, 96-97. Erikson goes on to note that the judicious element of ritual requires dramatic
elaboration, formal competence, ideological commitment, and numinousity.]
defining
myth |
