In Promiscuities, Naomi Wolf talks about the lack of rites of passage in Western culture between childhood and womanhood. I think she has a valid point about the place they fill. It also made me realize that, as atheists, MS will raise our children with even fewer mile markers than the already depleted stock of options we have in America: no baptism, no confirmation, no bat mitzvah, nada.
In my head, I've devised all manner of interesting things that could be placeholders, but I'm curious about others' perspectives. I know there's a part of infant baptism that I love that comes from its basis in pagan naming rituals: right before the baby's name is announced, the preacher asks "Who will stand up with this child?" Then, people chosen by the parents OR (and I like this one) anyone willing to take a stake in it, stands up with the family and vows to help teach the child to be a good person and to be there for them and to be a positive role model. Then, you drop some water on the kids and tell everyone their name.
Similarly, some tribal cultures re-name a child with a name they choose themselves at some coming of age point. I like that, too, and I see a variation of that a lot--not a full scale name change, but at a certain age, many kids with diminutives ask to be know by their full names or a more adult nickname (Pams become Pamelas, Jackies become Jaclyns, Wills become Williams, Dannys become Daniels; even I lobbied at about age 13 to change my diminutive name to the original name it was supposed to be but that was vetoed by my dad for being to masculine. I was supposed to be a Holland). I think it would be cool to have some kind of announcement in a rite of passage ceremony. But that's just me.
So tell me--what rites of passage have you seen that touched you in some way? How does one who bases life on logic navigate the spirit world of growing up? What was your moment?
10 comments:
For me, most are pretty mundane and common. Starting school, becoming a big brother, riding a two-wheeler (into a mailbox), etc; later, kissing a girlfriend, achieving the Eagle Scout rank, getting my first job, and so on.
Oddly, passing my driver's test was not anything special for me. I was a full year older than the requirement, simply because I had no need or desire to drive a car. And even though I had my license, I had no car to drive until I saved enough money from working nights and weekends.
Let's see, what was unique? In retrospect, I realize that my father teaching me and Xander matter-of-factly about sex was not so common for my fellow Okie kids. Yeah, he read us a cartoony picture book and I was probably a bit older that I should have been for the first lesson...but I'm proud of him for simply telling us the real deal (with a healthy amount of humor thrown in). When I was 11 or 12, he explained why he was getting a vasectomy and how the operation worked. As a teen, he talked to me about my responsibilities. Not supplying me with condoms and congratulating me for "being a man" or any stupid shit like that. More like, "here's how you should treat women, here's how to be responsible, here's how to be respectful, here's how to be courteous, here's how a gentleman handles this situation". A fine man, that Mr. Buck.
For some reason, puberty was my mom's department. Actually, it makes sense--a soft soothing mother's voice to explain the harsh reality that has been suddenly and violently thrust upon a sensitive, easily bruised boy. A fine woman, that Mrs. Buck.
I was baptized as an infant, which, of course, I have no memory of happening. As a high school rebel, I was pissed about it (and everything else) but now I could care less.
But I've always been Daniel. I was Danny only to my mama...but that still sticks.
Is anything in that garbled mess considered a rite of passage?
What about Philmont? That reeks of "rite of passage"ness.
These are great questions. There were no real rites of passage in my life -- at least none that I didn't pretty much go through alone. No one talked to me about puberty, sex, relationships, or what to do after college. I just had to muddle along.
The last, I think, would have been the most helpful. If someone had taken me aside and said, "Here's what it means to be an adult: Carrying your own compass. Deciding for yourself what's right and wrong, and how you'd like to spend your time." Or just someone at some point to tell me that, as an individual human, I was automatically worthwhile, and my thoughts and feelings were more important than some nebulous self-image of success or fashion.
I got baptised as a tween, but it meant nothing to me. Just dunk ina water.
I'm writing about most of my growing up moments in the book, including the time I felt the benevolence of the universe on a sand dune in southern Jordan, and then found expression for it in a Palestinian village: Al hamdulillah, which can be paraphrased as, "All things considered, I'm pretty damned grateful to be alive." And people say it fifty times a day over there, at least in the villages. It's dying out in the more Westernizing towns, but certainly not dead yet.
Reading Carl Sagan's Cosmos and Thoreau's Walden radically changed my life. I'll definitely give those to my kids.
I think a danger of atheism is that you can get caught up in the mechanisms of things and forget how fucking wild it all really is, how intricate and improbable and tasty and creamy and beautiful. At least this was a problem for me. The universe was kinda grey there for a while. Then I had that insomnia attack and started looking around, and it was like, Jesus Christ, all you have to do is pull your head out of your ass, and life is effing cool!
In case you can't tell, I'm trying to beat Daniel for the "Incoherentness Award." How'd I do?
i love your comment, pam! what i'm getting out of the post and comments and my own mullings is that, for atheists, rites of passage are not the same old same old, manufactured, commercialized bullshit but are INDIVIDUAL and sometimes recognizable only in the moment and/or in retrospect by the person who has them. beautiful.
note: further, it also seems that each of us tend to have personal CRISES that key us into our progress.
You know, my atheism has actually had the opposite effect, as far as enjoying life and feeling wonder is concerned. Before it was all "Yeah, this is all super, but I don't get to enjoy it because this big mean douche in the sky might decide to come back and slaughter anyone who isn't good enough at any second. And I have to genuflect like mad because I'm feeling so good about this and IT'S ALL ABOUT HIM!" Now it's like "Whoa! Fuck dude! Nature! Stuff! And this just, like, *happened*!"
Yeah, I wasn't very happy as a Christian, either -- much less so, in fact. And I'm glad you avoided that pitfall of "Everything's a pointless machine just grinding down to entropic heat death" that I went through for a while as an atheist. Now I consider myself a spiritual atheist, which I guess means that the whole is more than the sum of its parts, and that we have the power to create and enjoy oceans of meaning and beauty, and that's good enough for me.
It's not just that the glass if half-full. It's like -- Whoah! There's a fucking glass! AWESOME! And if there's actually anything IN IT... bonus, dude. It's all gravy.
In short, my new form of worship is just pure, directionless gratitude.
may i please please please call you Holland? i don't think it's overly masculine at all. and even if it were... it's like a dude having long and beautiful hair... it just enhances his masculinity. i think it's a beautiful name--or nickname.
Hey, I'm all for being called Holland by any takers.
Oh, and to Pam: I guess my early exposure to Existentialism kind of circumvented that whole thing. I mean, I do think we're just circling towards heat death or whatever, but so what? That doesn't make ice cream any less tasty or dogs any less soft or kissing any less fun.
He he. Yup.
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