Saturday, February 9, 2013

The Grief Ritual of American Civic Religion

Read a sober and thoughtful account here.


1 comment:

  1. Sigh.

    There are the Pantheons built of marble and sandstone, with the endorsing nods of pagan emperors; and then there are the Pantheons built of rituals and the approving nods of presidents, whether secular or sectarian, or whether re-elected or unseated. In America, you might say the magnificent Pantheons are not built with human hands.

    You might also say that they're built with all too human brains, so where-ever encountered, Pantheons all have something fallen in common.

    Essentially, all Pantheons cover all the bases, and all the odds, for all the overly-distraught and the anxious. They provide a warm community hearth anyplace, anytime, anywhere (sic). They pretty much say "Look around, friend. You're not alone. This is a testimony to shared human aspirations and fortitude. Whatever your creed, we're all in this mess together, sort of like if you're a member of my Synod."

    A statue of Jesus in the Imperial version, however well intended as to purpose, probably did receive a curious glance or two from the ancient pilgrim: "What? What's this? A crucified god from marginal and dusty ... Palestine? Lend me your ears, or maybe your Zeus or your Sol Invictus, or at least give me a break!"

    Unless the tourist was a Lutheran-in-liederhosen. Then he would have most certainly confused a crowded garden of idols with the lonely Garden of Gethsemane, and upon being strengthened by an angel of light, argued vociferously that the nave will never fill, if it had been left out. And really, who wants to be left out?

    Your (unworthy) servant,
    Herr Doktor


Comments are moderated. Neither spam, vulgarity, comments that are insulting, slanderous or otherwise unbefitting of Christian dignity nor anonymous posts will be published.