It can seem odd or too secular for church to sponsor a dress-up (‘costume’ not ‘Sunday best’) service in conjunction with the cultural phenomenon of the Comic Convention. The first time St. Paul’s did it, something felt so right even as I worked to reconcile the feeling of it being not quite in churchy-character.
Dressing up can be a way to “put on” a bigger-than-life part of ourselves, maybe a part we hide or a trait we wish we had. We can put on who we aspire to be.
I grew up feeling safer staying in shadows, and my hope was always to be brave enough for what life and God might require of me. So I’ve dressed as Ruth Bader Ginsberg, my model for upholding justice; the Shoveler from the movie Mystery Men, my model for someone with a modest talent who tries to use it for the greater good: and Samwise Gamgee, the Hobbit who wasn’t tasked with the great deed but whose steadfast companionship was crucial for the quest to be fulfilled. They all represent traits that I think we as Christians are called to embody.
While Jesus is, of course, our main model, we also need models of imperfect people who have to say, “I’m sorry,” when they mess up or who aren’t as clear on their life directions as Jesus was.
We can identify with fictional or real characters because of the power of stories—stories grown from ancient myths that tell us about our communal selves and stories that speak to us individually. In her book, Touch Magic, Jane Yolen writes, “The great archetypal stories provide a framework or model for an individual’s belief system.” She quotes William Butler Yeats. “There is some one myth for every man, if we but knew it, would make us understand all he did and thought.”
Stories that include self-doubt, fatal flaws, and limitations overcome at real costs are our road maps for our life-long work. And don’t we all, kids and adults, need the practice?
Bonus #1: Comic Con Sunday is fun. It’s an opportunity to let your inner child shine, and, most of all, remember what Jesus said about the little children.
But lest it sounds like I think we should all dress as our heroes or saints, there’s reason for also accepting the darker side of fantasy. Gertrude Mueller Nelson in To Dance with God taught me to see this other side. (Thanks, God, for Jungians). What she writes about Mardi Gras, also applies to Halloween or Comic Con. I wish I could lift her whole section on Carnival.
Here are some nuggets and summaries:
Societies have recognized the need to have moments of chaos. “For every step into light and consciousness that a society is able to make, it must remember and honor what is . . . dark and messy . . . and (the) steamy side of our human nature.”
We’ve seen what happens when people don’t acknowledge our unacceptable impulses. Our shadow sides can run amok if we ignore and leave them unloved and unsupervised. Our hidden parts will find a way to clamor to be acknowledged.
“Carnival is the ritual hint at what lies behind our desire for the holy.” Which, as I read Nelson, is the union/balance of two attitudes—creative tumult on the one hand and orderly process on the other. “Neither side must win over the other.”
My hope is more of us will participate in Comic Con Sunday. You don’t have to do anything elaborate. A costume can be as simple as a name tag. Or really get into it. As a Hobbit, I had a lot of fun gluing yarn to the tops of my feet, which was, apparently, the main way to identify my character. I could have avoided the worry about the clanking of my pots and pans while going to communion.
I would love to know more about how and why other “dressers” chose their persona. Can’t wait to see who comes to church on Comic Con Sunday!
And bonus #2—you’re ready for All Hallows Eve.
Cindy Schuricht
