What Reason and Logic Can’t Puzzle Out | Holy Sunday

I recently got entangled in a very dark and twisted romance series. A Lesson in Thorns by Sierra Simone is set in an old gothic estate located in Dartmoor, England. Five childhood friends reunite to uncover the secrets of the manor and their parents. What drew me to the book series is the female main character is a librarian and a secondary character is a Catholic Priest. Right up my niche ally, and as I hoped, the story is rich with literary and religious imagery (and humor). But even more than that, it is perhaps the most theologically insightful book I’ve read in a long time. Though, despite my benign description, it is emotionally dark and morally gray, consider yourself warned, this book isn’t for everyone.

Based on written descriptions and paintings found in the library, the five friends decide to reenact an ancient Imbolc or Saint Brigid’s ritual. As they discuss if, and how, they should conduct the ceremony the Priest, Father Becket, says;

“These kinds of things [ritual ceremonies] aren’t meant to be dissected in the bright light of day. Rituals are supposed to be acted out and performed. And the explanation for why they’re done is always going to feel flimsy when it’s held up without context and without the actions that give them meaning. The doing of them is the explanation, it is the understanding. They are built to reach inside us and expose the things that words can’t excavate, the longings and the joys that reason and logic can’t puzzle out If we want to consider doing this with any degree of fairness, then we’ll have to set aside logic for the present moment. We’ll have to listen to the parts of ourselves we’re not used to listening to. The little slivers in our hearts that we’ve trained ourselves to ignore—those tender soul-splinters that ache when we hear the wind sighing a certain way or when we see the stars glitter over the sea. Those slivers haven’t forgotten how to hope that there’s something more to this world than we can see or touch.”

Whew. Preach and Amen.

Rituals are for those slivers of our hearts that “haven’t forgotten how to hope that there’s something more to this world than we can see or touch.”

The religious rituals around Palm Sunday, Holy Week, and Easter can feel awkward. And the instruction for what have become Communion and Footwashing, “do this in remembrance of me,” can be a weighted invitation. But as Father Becket says, rituals are to be acted out and performed, they are embodied, asking our over-thinking brains to take a back seat while we allow the feeling and emotional parts of ourselves to take the lead.

It’s meant to be a little awkward, as he finishes up his impromptu sermonette, Father Becket tells his friends;

“We can sit around this table all night and find a thousand reasons why it would be silly or prohibitively difficult to perform a ceremony we have no personal connection to. Or we can decide that we’re willing to approach it the way it’s meant to be approached—not cynically, not ironically, but with fascination and respect.”

Ritual of all kind asks us to show up with fascination and respect, curiosity and bravery. On Sunday we have the opportunity to explore and embody stories that begin with a protest, a public display of resistance, much like the No Kings March that many of us will participate in this Saturday. A dinner shared with friends who are more like family, creating embodied ritual, and end with a death at the hands of violent empire, a death that was and is entirely too normal. Told collectively, you are invited to engage in whatever ways feel good for you. If you’re facilitation and respect is one of watching, that’s perfect, if you want to kneel and wash someone’s feet, or I think even harder, have your own feet washed, also perfect. There will be options in-between too and we’ll talk it through fully as explore "the longings and the joys that reason and logic can’t puzzle out."

I hope to see you on Saturday and on Sunday too.

Blessings,

Liz