Rogation: Beating the Bounds

Each year on the sixth Sunday of Easter, following the Divine Liturgy, I gather together at the main door of our church with a modest group of congregants bearing both hymnals and brooms. With the Crucifer before us, we perambulate about the borders of the parish property, “beating the bounds” with the brooms and reciting the Litany of the Saints in call-and-response. In recent years I’ve included a child with a smartphone so as to livestream the procession, thus answering the call to “keep Church weird.”

The term Rogation derives from the Latin rogare, meaning “to ask.” Rogation Days are traditional times of fasting and prayer for God’s blessing in agriculture, and for divine protection against natural disasters. We want an amicable environment, not an angry one, as a happy harvest is our goal. The Western Church observes several Rogation Days.

Major Rogation falls on 25 April, a time when the old pagan Romans used to sacrifice a dog to Rogibus, their deity of agricultural disease. This they understood to keep the wheat rust at bay. Urban Christians later replaced this observance with monotheistic prayers, sparing the poor dogs of Rome unnecessary bloodshed. Nobody has ever complained about us stealing this particular holiday, mind you.

Minor Rogations take place on the Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday preceding Ascension Thursday, which is itself the 40th day of Easter. (Are you taking notes? This will all be on the test.) The Sunday before these Minor Rogations thus becomes Rogation Sunday; that’s when we’re out chanting and waving our brooms for all the neighbors to see. Honestly, if any state could use some extra prayers for fairer weather, it’s Minnesota. From tornadoes, mosquitoes, floods, droughts, blizzards or lizards, good Lord deliver us.

Rogation processions remained popular in England for centuries, often led by a lion banner representing Christ and a dragon bringing up the rear for Pontius Pilate. As with so many other religious traditions ranging from Mardi Gras to Christmastide, Rogation parades got a bit too raucous for their pious origins. These days Rogation Sunday tends to be all but forgotten, save for the odd quirky cleric or two.

Obscure or not, Rogation offers us opportunity to touch upon the paradox of God’s sovereignty and love. Many traditions, Christian or otherwise, have often seen the two as incompatible. As Lex Luthor once said to Superman, “If God is all powerful, He cannot be all good. And if He’s all good, then He cannot be all powerful.” Some voices even within the Bible would claim that God predestines all things, even evil, even sin. When disasters befall us, did God send then upon us? Did our behavior merit such rebuke?

This isn’t simply a question of mechanics. We can certainly explain earthquakes and weather patterns scientifically, rationally, though often not as well as we should like. The question rather is one of morality, of right and wrong. Why do bad things happen to good people, when we know it ought not to be so? Why do evil people so often seem to thrive? Could it be that God is evil—that He wills evil? Many in our postmodern world would make such accusations, casting aspersions upon the God in whom they claim they don’t believe.

But this is silly on its face. Even Plato knew that God is the Good, the True, and the Beautiful. By definition, He cannot will evil. If He could, He wouldn’t be God. Moreover, if God were to predestine sin, predestine evil, then it couldn’t be sin—for doing God’s will is not sin. Adam should thus be lauded for eating forbidden fruit, Judas for betraying the Lord. You see how nonsensical it all becomes. God does not and cannot will evil. But then why does He seem to allow it? Why do bad things happen?

It all comes down, I think, to love. Love, in order to be love, cannot coerce, cannot force. Love can only welcome, invite, console, seduce. Love always gives, always forgives, and never gives up. Love must be freely chosen, freely accepted, even if it takes an eternity. For who can outlast the love of God? Who can out-love the eternal?

When we say that God is omnipotent, we mean that His is the power that makes all power possible, that creates potentiality. Everything that exists only exists insofar as God—who is Being, who is subsistent Existence itself—gives of Himself, gives of His being. He upholds us in every moment of our lives, every heartbeat, every thought, every breath. If you exist, then you are loved; if you are loved, then you exist. Creation receives freedom, receives potentiality, as a gift, including the freedom to misuse that gift. Even so, no sin ultimately can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

All of which is to say: as we do not blame God for sin freely chosen by rational agents, neither do we blame Him for that freedom and independence inherent in natural processes. People have free will; nature has free process. Creation groans in travail, as a woman in labor, for we are all in the process of perfection, of being made whole. All good things come from God, including rain and sun and seed and soil. Indeed, all good things we know here below are but reflections of the One who is the Goodness Himself.

So if we should wonder where God is whenever we suffer disaster, know that He is right here beside us, present in all of our sufferings, giving to us all that He has, all that He is, in the person of Jesus Christ. His is the Spirit of love burning down every barrier that would separate God from His children. And not one iota of Creation—not our sister Mother Nature—shall ever be neglected nor left behind. God at the last shall be all in all.

Okay, so, this article may have escalated quickly. We’ve wandered far afield from simply beating the bounds with a broom. Yet when it comes to the conflict of God’s sovereignty and love, we must remember this: that love is His sovereignty, and nothing else will do.

In Jesus. Amen.

-Eminent Grand Prelate Sir Knight Ryan Stout