The Lord spoke to Moses, saying: Speak to the people of Israel, saying: On the fifteenth day of this seventh month, and lasting seven days, there shall be the festival of booths to the Lord.
~Leviticus 26:33-34
We all have our rituals. Whether they involve the order in which we put out the lights before climbing the stairs to go to bed, or the procedure for creating a beloved dish "just like mom made it," our rituals offer us comfort, predictability, maybe even a sense of safety.
We have rituals around our work (what time we arrive, what we prioritize as we begin the day, whether we approach tasks in order of difficulty-- hardest first? or get the easy ones out of the way so you can attack the hard ones with a clean plate?). We have rituals around our play (The snacks! Setting up the table for mahjong!)! And, of course, many of us engage in sacred rituals.
In my branch of Christianity most of our rituals are communal: Sunday worship and the sacraments of Baptism and the Lord's Supper are the cornerstones of life together in community as a people who serve the God of Jesus Christ. But they also offer us the comfort of predictability woven together with the novelty of the prayers and texts and sermonizing of the day. But there are rituals for home, as well--morning prayers, grace before a meal, "Now I lay me down to sleep..."
The best rituals--by which I mean, the rituals that feel most essential, weighty in a good way--are those that appeal to our different senses. My morning prayer ritual includes the right location (where I am comfortable but also upright, with good natural light or at least a good lamp), music (some I listen to, and some I make), and a candle. Not just any candle, mind you, but a candle specially created for clergywomen by the Rev. Ruth Hetland (the genius behind the @consecratebox). The candle is called "God, Evil, and Suffering." Here's the thing, though: it doesn't smell like God, evil, and suffering, but, rather, like the gentlest whiff of the pipe tobacco of a beloved seminary professor who happened to teach a class by that name. I received one by subscription to Ruth's monthly treasure trove of items clergywomen need, and promptly ordered a dozen more. I don't know what I'll do when I run out.
My point is: this ritual is especially meaningful to me. The involvement of my senses, my location, my prayerbook... all these things combine to give my prayer time the weight I think such a time deserves. It is the time I open my heart to God, and it is important.
There are other kinds of rituals, of course, beside the ones that root us to our daily lives, or even our weekly communal worship. The United States has highly ritualized the anniversary of September 11, 2001, for example.
I have been wondering today whether we will ever create rituals to mark this season of pandemic, of which we have entered year 3. This morning's passage from Leviticus set me thinking about this. The Festival of Booths described in chapter 26 is a ritual commemorating the forty years God's covenant people spend on their wilderness sojourn between enslavement in Egypt and their entry into the Land of Promise. The festival lives on in the contemporary Jewish practice of Sukkoth (Hebrew for "booths") in which individuals and families create an outdoor dwelling place for a week that might resemble a tent or a booth, extravagantly decorated with specific kinds of fruits, flowers and greenery.
An important facet of the booth is that it must be at least partially open to the elements--the reality of the vulnerability of the people to the elements of nature cannot be forgotten. But the festive nature of the observance--it is particularly beloved by children, it includes beautiful adornments--is part of its celebratory nature. "We got through it," Sukkoth reminds those who celebrate. "Look at our strength. Look at our resilience."
What rituals do you observe? The ritual of the morning coffee? (Oh, I do that one.) Saturday date night? I'm curious to know what you do, and how you do it. Rituals help to make life richer, to remind us of what we treasure. I hope yours give you joy.
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| Ready for Morning Prayer. |
I am sadly lacking in daily rituals, partially because I refuse to call the daily PT exercises I need to do a ritual. I am back to the weekly ritual of weekend mass, usually Saturday vigil, which has again become a comfort, thanks to Tim.
ReplyDeleteIf I were going to mass, Tim would be my priest. In some ways, he still is. My hopes for the institutional church remain alive because of people like him. I'm glad that ritual gives you comfort.
DeleteIt's difficult to find a safe space in the Catholic Church still. I don't know how much of the "Francis effect", the synodal process, and the reform of the Curia will reach most US diocese before the retirement of Tim's generation. While there are some younger priests who are servant-leaders, many are suffering from clericalism. I don't know if there will be a true reform of the priesthood to include all God has called or not, but Francis is still a Latinx man who can't understand that "women are people, too." So, yes, there is hope but also sadness, fear, and uncertainty.
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