The Essence of Ritual #
By I.A. Kirillov
The journal Church has already noted the sorrowful phenomenon of the younger generation of Old Believers growing indifferent to their native rites and customs. This phenomenon is undoubtedly lamentable, yet entirely understandable in our times, especially among students. From all sides, at every crossroads, this youth is loudly bombarded with talk of all manner of abstract matters—philosophical systems, the freedom of spirit, free religion, and so on. Indeed, it is difficult for a young Old Believer, often unable to navigate this chaotic abstraction, to also think about rituals—let alone not only think about them but also practice them, which is far more challenging than mere contemplation. In comparison with various philosophical systems and free religions, ritual appears so small, so insignificant, so unworthy of attention…
Before irrevocably endorsing this verdict against ritual, one must, at the very least, examine oneself once more—Is it truly so? Is it really the case that ritual is not worthy of being observed?
Let us attempt to answer this question.
What is ritual in its essence? How was it formed, and what is its substance, its core?
Let us take an example from a specific field—say, for simplicity, mechanics. When a new machine is invented, its initial design is often crude and imperfect. However, through practical experience, various components are developed—perhaps insignificant on their own, but in sum, they determine the machine’s applicability to practical life.
In this case, the accumulated practical experience, having undergone various modifications, is ultimately molded into a final form—such as a bearing or a nut.
The same occurs in other areas of human life. However, in these areas—such as everyday life, and even more so in religion—it is much harder to trace and establish the connection between a certain need and the custom or ritual that has arisen from it. These customs and rituals can be likened to the bearings and nuts upon which both our external and internal life moves.
Practical habits shape customs, which, owing to their obvious utility, are understood by all, and under normal conditions, no one would think to violate them. Consequently, there is no need to make them obligatory; thus, the concept of custom does not inherently include the principle of immutability. Since customs are changeable, they cannot, by that very fact, be mandatory for all.
The situation is entirely different in the realm of religion. Here, there is no immediately apparent utility, as in everyday life. Due to differences in people’s psychological makeup, it is easy to imagine that there will be those who wish to alter a given ritual. This, however, is impermissible for the following reasons: The Church is a society of people united by one faith in God, by the same dogmas. Since this is the case—since the Church is a society—it must have a certain discipline, without which no society can exist. Moreover, the individual who decides to alter rituals, or in other words, to change the outward expression of religious feeling, may very well be mistaken. When one member of the Church alters religious rituals, this has a highly contagious effect on others—especially on those whose religious convictions are not yet firmly established. The eventful history of Russia provides a characteristic example of this.
Before the unfortunate patriarchate of Nikon, no one in Russia doubted the firmness and immutability of ritual. But the innovator-patriarch, through his actions, shattered this conviction. Nikon inflicted much harm by distorting the rites, but he caused no less—if not more—harm by attempting, with a mere word or a stroke of his pen, to abolish some rituals and establish others. He sought to reduce ritual to a phenomenon created by human will and subject to it. If one adopts the modern intelligentsia’s view of ritual—namely, that it is of little significance—then soon, we shall have as many religions as there are people.
The Holy Fathers of the Church, of course, well understood the significance of religious custom as the outward expression of religious feeling. It is entirely natural, then, that they granted such customs their sanction and confirmation, thereby transforming them into rituals that are binding upon all believers.
The significance of ritual has been discussed more than once in the pages of the journal Church. Here, however, we shall say a few words about the significance of custom in Russian life. In the everyday life of the Russian common people, custom plays a primary role, serving either as a powerful stimulus that drives the peasant to certain actions or as an equally powerful restraint.
From the moment of a child’s birth, custom assumes its premier role in a peasant family. The parents of the newborn know that they cannot provide their child with any particular comforts and that the new member of humanity will likely be nourished on a bread-soaked rag—except in cases where the newborn belongs to the “village bourgeoisie.” The parents are not troubled by this, nor do they suffer over it, for their grandfathers, fathers, and they themselves were raised in the same way. It is, therefore, seen as the natural order of things, which eliminates much of life’s suffering.
When a peasant marries, he already knows that his life will not change significantly after marriage. The only difference will be the number of working hands in his household, and thus he does not approach marriage with overly idealistic expectations. He does not make every possible effort to make the first month of his married life idyllic, and for this reason, he does not experience the rapid disenchantment so often observed among the intelligentsia (using this term in its commonly accepted sense). For them, the greatest terror in marriage is the so-called “marital routine.”
Once this routine sets in, the fledgling members of the intelligentsia often panic and flee from their “cozy nest,” which, during these “routine days,” has transformed from a blissful Arcadia into an ordinary apartment—or even just a single room. Disagreements arise, almost always attributed to differences in character, yet never to the fact that the young couple, before marriage, spent too much time dreaming of the honeymoon and completely forgot about the long succession of gray, monotonous days that would follow.
When these days arrive, they are no longer brightened by conjugal love—a phrase that is almost always understood as referring to a certain relationship between a man and a woman, but never as the natural feeling of goodwill, the warm companionship of one human being toward another, which stems from their mutual support along life’s thorny path.
A young peasant woman, after marriage, often goes out to work in the fields with her husband as early as the second or third day after the wedding. It is worth noting that most peasant marriages take place in late June or early July—that is, during the labor-intensive season when extra hands are needed for heavy agricultural work. Such a practical consideration in no way diminishes or dishonors the sacrament of marriage. On the contrary, it sanctifies it, making it truly a “sacrament,” in contrast to most “intelligentsia” marriages, which are contracted based on so-called “mutual love”—a sentiment that, in the end, often amounts to little more than the satisfaction of certain physiological needs.
By this same custom, common folk live out their lives (which, it should be noted, are generally longer and therefore, one could reasonably assume, more natural than the lives of the intelligentsia) and then die.
Do you remember the elderly landowning lady in Turgenev’s A Hunter’s Sketches, who, after hearing the departing prayer read by the priest, had the presence of mind and self-control to reach under her pillow, pull out a ruble, and pay the priest for her own last rites?
“Yes, Russian people die in a remarkable way!” (A Hunter’s Sketches, Death).
Here, there is none of that purely animalistic fear of death that, in our times, so characterizes urban life (or, if you prefer, the ailment of the intelligentsia). Of course, death is feared in the village as well, but if one may put it this way, it is feared courageously, bravely—or rather, only the body fears, as is natural for it, while the spirit remains strong.
For the modern intellectual, however, the situation is quite the opposite: far greater weight is given to the agony of the spirit, the psyche—which, of course, is not proof that the psyche of the intellectual is more developed or more vital than that of the simple Russian person.
The spiritual and psychological life of the Russian people is quite rich, as evidenced by the many folk customs and religious rituals. The full strength and power of the Russian psyche were revealed in a series of historical events in the mid-17th century, which became known as the Great Russian Schism.
The Russian people had their own traditions, their own rites, formed over centuries and fully in harmony with the religious-psychological sensibilities of the Russian soul.
The Russian intelligentsia, which either originated or, more accurately, gained prominence at the court of the Reformer of Russia, followed the “Western path” from the very beginning.
In other words, the Russian intelligentsia, having adopted not only the truly necessary aspects of Western thought but also the everyday forms of Western life, made a mistake: it chose an improper course and condemned those who did not follow it.
Who can guarantee that our present backwardness in the path of progress is not due to the Mongol yoke—on which many absurdities of contemporary life are conveniently blamed—but rather a direct consequence of the psychological upheaval that Russian society underwent in the mid-17th century? It is undeniable that Peter I achieved much—very much—for Russia in terms of culture and civilization. However, all our historians acknowledge that some of Peter’s reforms lacked a rational basis—for instance, his reforms regarding beards and clothing. The conditions of our climate serve as natural proof of this.
By clarifying the significance of custom in the life of the Russian people, we seek to demonstrate that ritual holds no less importance in the religious life of the nation. Ritual is not something detached from life, something arbitrary or artificially created by human will. On the contrary, it is organically linked to life itself—it emerges from lived experience and, in turn, serves it.
To summarize all that has been said, the concept of ritual can be defined as follows: ritual is a custom sanctioned by the appropriate authority. Custom, in turn, is the sum of accumulated experience in a given sphere. A custom in everyday life, when sanctioned by civil authority, takes the form of law; a custom in religious life, when sanctioned by spiritual authority, becomes a ritual.
A citizen who does not abide by the laws of his state suffers punishment and loses certain rights; a member of the Church who does not observe its rituals (its laws) thereby removes himself from the ranks of its spiritual children.