As we are in the middle of awards season, it isn’t difficult for one to wonder how conscionable it is to spend millions of dollars to produce events in which millionaires celebrate and heap lavish praise on millionaires. The relatively low-key Golden Globe Award show, and the even lower-key SAG Award show, was topped by the Grammy’s and will be made a distant memory by the Oscar Award show.

The point of this season is not crass commercialism. Yes, commercialism has jumped on board (and in the case of the Grammy’s, driven the event ahead—why else would they have moved to the giant Staples Center in Los Angeles), but these events serve a purpose in our nation’s psyche and momentum. These are non-denominational rituals of our people.

The people of the United States have no collective rites of passage. One can drive at 16 (or is it 15? 14?). Who knows, it is a states’ rights issue. One can vote at 18, drink at 21, rent a car at 25. These are all individual milestones, celebrated by and among a small gathering.

Award season is our rite of spring. It follows the glut of holidays that ends with empty pocketbooks and falls during the time we have little to look forward to. These shows need to be big, over the top, and outrageous. Whether we watch and long to wear the clothing, dream about our own acceptance speech, or watch from a critic’s distance, we all experience the size and scope with a sense of awe and disbelief.

While another ritual, the Super Bowl, marks an ending, the award season portends longer and warmer days and optimism through our vicarious enjoyment.