A special seven-year-old in my life is a member of her church choir for the first time this year, and sang in last Sunday's service. Standing erect, dressed in a white choir robe with red collar and clutching a folder of sheet music against her chest, she lead her choir mates down the center isle, as the glow of her near-toothless smile greeted the congregation, and her red-bowed, thick brown pony tail bounced behind her.
After the children took their positions beside the altar and faced the crowd, she and I made eye contact, I waved with one finger, and her smile grew wider, reminding me of her joy during her 2-year-old birthday party. "I love me!" she proclaimed in a burst of joy that day, as she greeted her guests. What I want for her -a healthy childhood - seems to be happening. I pulled a piece of Kleenex out of my coat pocket and wiped my eyes. But along with the tissues came the intrusion of images from a recent Oprah Show: Tyler Perry and 200 men - all survivors of childhood sexual abuse - who stood on her stage last month holding photographs of themselves as children. It was so sad. And it was so powerful.
Joy, sadness, and power. Joy was evoked in the ritual of the liturgy. Sadness was evoked in the ritual of the television program. Power was evoked in the process of witnessing healing.
A variety of rituals are structured into the rhythm of the holidays, and many of us have negative or ambivalent feelings about them for one reason or another, which can lead to anxiety or depression. In turn, anxiety and depression can lure us into addictions - physical solutions to our spiritual and emotional problems. Child abuse survivors typically struggle with many layers of problems throughout adulthood. Sometimes we're aware of what themes stir us up and we can prepare for them, but at other times they come as uninvited guests, taking us by surprise, catching us off guard, and demanding our attention, like, in a mild way, my memory of the men on Oprah's show did.
I often wonder how those men are doing now. How are their families? Has their TV ritual of healing softened them? Nourished them? Inspired them? Motivated them? Have they found the keys to unlock the prisons they have inhabited? Are they free of shame? Do they experience joy? Can they greet each day with a healthy sense of loving themselves? I hope so.
My attention returns to the altar as the rector leads us in prayer: "Lamb of God, Who takes away the sins of the world, grant us peace." Chimes in the bell tower ring; in synchrony the choir lines up to receive Communion so that they can sing while the rest of us process to the altar: "Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace... " Their voices are pure and clear, soothing to my ears, calming to my heart: a choir of innocence; a symphony of souls.
