Ritual

Last Sunday I visited a Catholic Church for the first time in my life. I was lucky enough to have my friend Maria, who’s a practicing Catholic, by my side, acting as a sort of guide through what I discovered was an intensely liturgical experience.

She leaned in as the service began and smiled, “You’re in luck. This service is about as Catholic as it gets.”

She meant, of course, that the church was celebrating Corpus Christi, a time to reflect on the Christ’s presence in The Eucharist (the wine, the bread, etc.). It’s a practice steeped in tradition and ritual.

I grew up traditional Evangelical Christian, so I am no stranger to poorly-sung hymns or structured prayers spoken in unison. But this service was much more complex than anything I’ve ever experienced. I struggled to follow, but mostly because I was so distracted by what was happening before me.

It was what you expect it to be, like you see in movies. Chanting, blessing, bowing. I watched intently as the priest prepared the elements of The Eucharist. Most of it was lost on me in that moment. It wasn’t until after the service as Maria patiently fielded my questions that I began to understand.

Here again, I’d like express that my desire to observe these different acts of faith has very little to do with the belief itself. And though I may appreciate certain actions of a religion or community, it doesn’t mean I agree with every action. Humans be humans, y’all. Let’s just keep that in mind.

That being said, the service was deeply moving to me. Every movement had a reason. Every step was drenched with purpose, like it was drenched in incense. It was beautiful.

It got me thinking about what separates a ritual from a habit. And when in my own life have I experienced the difference?

The only example I have is corny, but I’ll offer it up anyways. When I was in high school I had an incredibly close-knit group of friends. After classes let out for the day, we’d meet in a certain spot so we could walk out together. It wasn’t something we ever really thought about. Just a habit.

But on the last day of senior year, we made a point to meet. Every one of us. It was sort of a statement: “We came to this place together. We spent our time here together. And now, we’ll leave it together.”

It’s no secret that religious rituals have been criticized for their “emptiness”. I’m sure the same actions I witnessed and found so moving have been practiced or observed mindlessly. Many, many times. But what I find interesting is that when they’re performed with intent and purpose, they become statements. Professions, not just of belief in God, but beliefs about the universe, about life and how it should be lived.

Something else Maria told me was that these rituals are practiced at wakes, baptisms and weddings. Could there be anything more powerful than to state your beliefs with action? In moments of heartache, struggle, and pure joy?

It’s part of the reason I want to find my own rituals. I want to live from a place of purpose, not from habit.