© 2000 John Marks
© 2000 The Christian Fellowship of Students of The Urantia Book
“Every inspiring ideal grasps for some perpetuating symbolism — seeks sometechniquefor culturalmanifestation which will insure survival and augment realization-and the cult achieves this end by fostering and gratifying emotion.”
“From the dawn of civilization everyappealing movement in social culture or religious advancement has developed a ritual, a symbolic ceremonial.” (UB 87:7.1-2)
One of the hallmarks of religion is the performance of rituals. Religious rituals are usually associated with a sacred story or myth, and together the ritual and story express symbolically the human attempt to interact with what is perceived as sacred or divine reality. A vast body of anthropological studies as well as the findings of comparative religion document the universality of ritual as an indispensable component of religion. Although there are many theories on its origins, nature, and functions, it is safe to say that ritual appears to be the main human technique for enacting or dramatizing, and thus preserving through repetition, religious sentiments that are considered vital to the welfare of a particular community (hence sacred). [1]
Up to this point in the Urantia movement little interest has been shown in the establishment of any formal ritual. The only discernible behavior pattern among readers has been the consistent formation of study groups and their loose organization under the aegis of the Fellowship and the Foundation. The Urantia Book itself does not advocate any specific forms of ritual, although, as the quotation at the top of this article shows, it does stress the importance of ritual to the development of religion. The implication is that the specific forms of worship should be developed by the community of believers through a natural evolutionary process.
The recent shift in the focus of The Spiritual Fellowship Journal may indicate that The Urantia Book community is now ready at least to begin discussing how to develop appropriate symbolism and forms of expression to give vent to the religious feelings aroused by The Urantia Book. With this new purpose in mind, I would like to offer some personal experiences to illustrate the way ritual might be used in a worship service based on The Urantia Book.
Two memorable experiences stand out in my mind as examples of the way ritual can inspire the worshiper and give structure to communal worship without cramping the free expression of individual faith. Both “services” took place in the informal and familiar setting of someone’s home and were simple affairs based on the partaking of a shared meal. To my mind such loosely structured gatherings of friends and acquaintances represent a practical and appealing way to introduce a formal element into the Do This in the local study-group meetings, which eventually may lead to a standard basis of worship in some future Urantian “church.”
The first experience was an interdenominational Passover meal, organized by a group of students including myself when I was in graduate school. The program of study I was pursuing at the time (Ancient Near Eastern Studies) attracted an interesting mix of people at both the student and faculty level. Among the students were Jews, whose backgrounds ranged from orthodox to reformed; Christians of various sects (Catholics, Evangelical Protestants, even one Mormon); and unbelievers of different perspectives, from vaguely agnostic to professed atheists. By the same token, the faculty consisted of an orthodox rabbi, a Roman Catholic priest, committed and indifferent Jews and Christians, and a few atheists as well. Since we were all involved in a common academic enterprise and were a relatively small group, we had plenty of occasion to share our differing perspectives.
One of the hallmarks of religion is the performance of rituals. Religious rituals are usually associated with a sacred story or myth, and together the ritual and story express symbolically the human attempt to interact with what is perceived as sacred or divine reality.
So one spring a group of us students decided it would be interesting to celebrate a common Passover, where not just Jews would participate but non-Jews as well-believers and unbelievers. As I recall, I had expressed an interest in experiencing Passover firsthand since I come from a Christian background and had always felt that I was missing something (similar, perhaps, to the way some Jews feel at Christmas). Others chimed in and our Jewish friends decided to accommodate by helping us organize the whole thing.
It all went exceedingly well. Each of us played a role in preparing the meal and in providing the necessary foods matzo, bitter herbs, wine, etc. — for a proper Passover meal. There was a little awkwardness at first, but no more so than at the start of any party. One of the women came from a fairly strict orthodox background, and she, maybe more than anyone else, felt the strangeness of this Passover with Gentiles present. But as the evening progressed and it became obvious that she was invaluable as an authority on the correct way of conducting the celebration, she warmed up and enjoyed herself as much as the rest of us. Another woman, an atheist from an Italian-American background, quite unexpectedly was also very knowledgeable on the way the meal should be prepared and served; it turned out that she had waited tables during Passover at one of the Catskill resorts and so knew the whole routine by heart.
In the end it struck me that we couldn’t have orchestrated a better example of open human fellowship and mutual acceptance even if we had consciously set out to achieve this lofty goal; after all, we were really only trying to have a good time. I came away from that evening feeling that we had accomplished something worthy and important by crossing interdenominational lines, and that a spirit of good will had prevailed over the distinctions that usually keep people apart. We non-Jews had the opportunity to participate in one of the most ancient religious ceremonies on the planet, one that by tradition celebrated the liberation of the Jews from bondage under Pharaoh some three thousand years ago. And for the Jews among us it was a chance to share a tradition that was deeply meaningful to them and to elaborate on its significance to outsiders. Passover is a ritual that commemorates one of the earliest revelatory experiences, a vision of faith that would eventually change the history of this planet.
I realized, too, why Jesus had chosen such a setting for one of his most profound lessons. His vision of the kingdom of God was explained in the context of a common meal where people share simple human friendship and in this relaxed setting most easily reveal their better lights. This became the very symbol of his new kingdom and provided a model for the high standard of conduct he encouraged us to follow: namely, we were to treat one another with the respect and friendship accorded family and friends who gather for a communal meal. At the same time he was connecting his new revelation of God’s will to the old revelation by using a ritual that symbolized the intimate relationship between God and his people in the Jewish tradition. He was embracing the old covenant and expanding it at the same time in a way that would also change the world.
About ten years after this occasion I accompanied members of our local Urantia study group to a potluck dinner at the home of a couple who belonged to another study group some fifty miles away. The occasion was the anniversary of Jesus’ birthday (August 21, 7 B.C., according to The Urantia Book) and the form of the celebration was to be a “Remembrance Supper,” which is the way Jesus’ Last Supper with his apostles is described in The Urantia Book, Paper 179. We enjoyed a casual meal on the patio and gradually got to know one another since most members of each respective group had not met the members of the other group before.
After the meal our host passed around glasses of wine and fruit juice and asked us all to stand while she read several passages from Paper 179. Then we drank our wine or juice together in a sort of “communion.” It was indeed a communion in the literal sense of the word but without the stiff, solemn formality associated with the typical communion service in Christian churches. During the reading each of us communed with our own thoughts and meditated on the meaning of the words. We also had been communing with one another all along, first through conversation and then silently through our shared purpose in being there. Finally, one couldn’t help thinking of Jesus’ statement, “Where two or three believers are gathered together, there am I in the midst of them” (Matt. 18:20; UB 159:1.3) and feeling the spiritual presence inspired by those words.
At the conclusion of the reading and communion “toast,” our host asked each of us in turn to read from small slips of paper which she had passed out to everyone as we arrived earlier in the day. Each slip contained a line or two from The Urantia Book. Most people commented on the lines after reading them and this prompted others to chime in. By this simple device a meaningful discussion was promoted, which drew all of us closer together and raised the level of the conversation beyond mere social pleasantries to a deeper exploration of shared convictions and values.
At times I had the odd feeling that in some mysterious way the discussion was being guided toward important considerations and insights that don’t normally occur in casual conversation (and once again I thought of the above-cited line from Matthew). I had the sense that we were sharing in a spirit of cooperation that enabled all of us to appreciate one another despite a variety of perspectives and brought out the best in us, smoothing over the usual personality conflicts which can occur in any large group. Bonds of spiritual kinship were formed that made a lasting impression on me and I think on many others there as well. As a result I came away from this occasion feeling deeply fulfilled, an experience that one should have on leaving any kind of worship service, but which unfortunately is rarely found any more in traditional places of worship.
Many Urantia Book readers may look on the stultifying rituals and empty ceremonies of traditional religions as exactly what they are trying to avoid in religion and have no desire to mimic any part of this hoary tradition. This is understandable. Even Jesus avoided what he considered some of the pointless ceremonies of Judaism, for which he was criticized by the orthodox of the day. [2] He also went to great lengths to prevent his words and deeds from becoming crystallized, and thus he left no writings and spoke in parables to allow his message a wide range of interpretation. [3]
But he did establish a remembrance supper, which should give anyone who hates the idea of any kind of formal ritual pause to reconsider. It was simply a supper with his friends, which he suggested was an apt symbol of his vision of the “kingdom” of God — really the spiritual family of God. He also recommended holding such a meal on a regular basis as an appropriate way to remember him, his life, and the meaning of his message. Finally, he demonstrated how a shared meal among friends could symbolize the sharing of the spiritual “bread of life” which he had bestowed on us through the revelation of his own life. Just as we gather at mealtime for food to nourish our bodies, so we should also gather for spiritual fellowship to nurture our souls. Unfortunately, later Christianity misunderstood the intent of this ceremonial meal and turned the elegant simplicity of the original event into a symbolic flesh-and-blood eating ritual with cannibalistic overtones.
Religions endure through their symbols and ceremonies, which provide the cultural basis of their spiritual component. Lacking this the Urantia movement really cannot be called a religion. It consists only of a mysterious book and the loosely knit groups of people who gather together to discuss it. I suggest that the movement consider adapting one of the oldest ceremonial forms on the planet [4] : the ritual meal, the basis of the Jewish Passover and the Christian Eucharist, an open-ended ceremony with great symbolic potential which uses the essential life-sustaining elements — food and drink — as symbols of the transcendent spiritual life. It would provide a unifying theme to all Urantia gatherings and yet allow plenty of room for individual creativity and variation.
I personally would stress the creative, human aspect of the ceremony and would avoid stereotyping or rigid formalities of any sort. Others may be attracted to a more formal presentation. In any case, the details should be left up to the members in each study group. A communal meal would provide a wide framework for interaction, to be modified according to individual taste.
Of course real religions can’t simply be manufactured. A great deal of cultural evolution is involved in the process, and the input of many people over time. But this would at least be a good start.
John Marks is a freelance writer who lives in Western New York.
An excellent review of the role of ritual in religion is Evan M. Zuesse’s article “Ritual” in The Encyclopedia of Religion, Mircea Eliade, Editor in Chief (New York: Macmillan, 1987), vol. 12, pp. 405-422 ↩︎
For example, Matt. 9:10-17; 12:1-14; Mark 2:15-28; 3:1-6; Luke 5:29-39; 6:1-11. UB 147:5.1 - UB 147:8.6 ↩︎
See UB 120:3.6-7, points 5 and 6; cf. UB 151:3.2-16. ↩︎
As far back as the third millennium B.C.E., Sumerian priests served statues of their gods a sacred meal, which they then laterconsumed. See also The Anchor Bible Dictionary, vol. 4: 653-655 on the antiquity of the sacred meal. ↩︎