The Nature of Ritual
When we gather for liturgy, there are certain things we do, certain things we say, like, “The Lord be with you.” To which we respond, “And with your spirit.” The comedian John Mullany has a bit where he talks about going to Christmas Eve Mass for the first time since the new translation of the Mass occurred, and how he was lost and out of sync with everyone else. He still said, “And also with you,” in response to the greeting, “The Lord be with you.” When we do things in a particular, consistent, and familiar way in liturgy, what we are doing is ritual.
Ritual is described as a sequence of activities involving gestures, words, and objects, performed according to set sequence. What we do at Mass is a ritual; there are actions that we do that are ingrained in us (Did you ever genuflect at the end of a row in a theater?). Ritual is as comfortable as a well-worn glove. It fits. It works.
We can think of ritual like a game. It is said that we don’t so much play a game, as the game plays us. It prescribes our actions. You can’t decide while playing football that you are allowed to run out of bounds and then back in again. The rules tell you that you can’t do that—no matter how much you want to do it or think you should be able to do it.
That is why we have rules for how the liturgy is celebrated and those rules are not to be tampered with, even by the priest. If at the preface of the Mass, the priest said, “Praise God with your life,” instead of “Lift up your hearts,” there would be some silence, some mumbles, and not a few, “We lift them up to the Lords.”
The words and rubrics of the liturgy keep us all on the same page. Rules help us to settle into the ritual. We know what to expect. We know what to do. We know what to say. The rules of liturgy are not constraining, but actually free us to go with the flow and the familiar. When we don’t have to think about what is going on, we can enter into prayer, free from distractions.
