Paulie Rainbow 

Tagible Ritual  

Recent events have left most of us drained, or angry, or fearful.

And it is the special place of religion to provide comfort, strength, and guidance. 

Thankfully, we have had the joy of the Winter Solstice, and the gradual but steady brightening of our days to offer some external signs of hope, although, for many, these have been tempered by isolation. We miss each other.

And we should. One of the great assests of our species is how we form community. We would not have survived without this drive to find each other, work together, create stories of our adventures together to become culture and history in the times that follow. 

When we do little things, over and over together, they become a living story, in gesture, about us. Many of our most ancient rituals were based in movement, not in text. 

In the book “The Rites of Brigid: Goddess and Saint” by Seán Ó Duinn he points out how to tease apart the ancient native bits of a ritual from the newer Christian ones, “Following the ancient tradition of the Celts, this is an outdoor ritual, and no books are in use. In this it varies profoundly from the ecclesiastical tradition which relies so heavily on the book during liturgical functions that it requires a covered space or building to protect the book from rain and storm. This is a rite of movement, not of listening to readings or sermons.” 

In many of the older rituals described, folk traditions that have survived even into modern times there is something very physical, something tangible that is involved. The old ways survive more in what is done than in what is said to have been believed. 

And that may be particularly helpful now, when we are so often apart from each other, when words are read or heard through a machine. It is said that COVID-19 can take away the sense of smell, and I don’t think we realized how much we smell our way through the world. Underneath the busy, high pitched realm of sight, the bass clef of our interactions is the scent of each other and of the spaces where we come together. Our isolation, due to this pandemic, has drained our interactions of the touch of the cloth that covers someones shoulder when we reach out to them, the scent of someone’s cologne or toothpaste that we never consciously remarked. 

And so it is through objects and movement that we may find a bit of faith restored. 

There are traditions connected to Brigid from Ireland, related to the upcoming holiday, but which can be intentionally put to use at other times. 

It is said that a cotton or linen cloth, perhaps no bigger than a handkerchief, can be set outside, overnight from Imbolc eve, to be touched by Her as She passes by, and this cloth can then help heal illnesses and injuries, restore the physical self from weariness or depression. It can be tucked away or put on a home altar after the blessing, to be taken out at need. 

And She is said to bless water. Water from wells dedicated to Her are believed to have a protective influence, about half the homes I stayed in or visited in Ireland had a bottle of Brigid’s water, displayed by the door. The bottle of water can be touched to a sufferer’s body to relieve illness or strain, it isn’t necessary to ingest it, or pour it out. 

And so when the Denver Celtic Women’s Circle do our ritual with Hearthstone Community Church, at the end of February, we will invite you to have your own bit of cloth, and small bottle of water ready so that, during the ritual we can draw in Brigid’s blessing to these things, each of us and collectively together, so that we can have these objects at our fingertips, in our hands, displayed in our own isolated space. 

We will use this ritual together, to bring blessing on these tangible objects, using our own movements, our own space, and then, in the time to come, they will remind us of our connection to each other, and to the Divine. They will be for us a touchstone to a story we tell about each other and the culture we create in difficult times.

Peace of the mountains to you, 

Paulie Rainbow