It has been my depressing experience, a couple of times in recent years, to attend services at Catholic churches. Once for a funeral, once for a wedding. On both occasions—one for grief, one for joy—the Mass was celebrated: the theatre, the spectacle, of magic. Here were citizens of the modern world: they survive and thrive because they have a pretty good grasp of the realities of life. They know what to do to raise families, acquire cars and houses, pursue careers, plan vacations, and build portfolios for retirement.
Their family entertainments commonly include Disney and superhero movies—and, of course, the Harry Potter adventures. These make-believe worlds are fun, because on-screen magic is fun. But why, in the world of church theatre, is the magic taken seriously? During both ceremonies I witnessed, members of the congregation approached the priest—in splendid theatrical costume—to receive a fragment of the body of their god: to eat their god. On some occasions they drink its blood as well.