My First Rogation Procession

“Beating the Bounds” and relearning important lessons

Sunday afternoon, I led my first Rogation procession at my humble house of piety and learning.  By first, I mean not only the first one I’ve led, but my first one, period.  I had seen one, in 2022 by the Radcliffe Camera in Oxford.  Then I saw how properly to “beat the bounds” by vigorously marking boundary markers with long sticks.  In that case it was Oxford schoolboys doing that pious task with zeal.

I’m glad I got that video as we followed their good example yesterday.  Also, I needed to prove to a few skeptics that I was not just making up this custom strange to most Americans.

Here is some more historic background on Rogation processions:

The Rogation Days, the Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday before Ascension Day, originated in Vienne, France (not Vienna, Austria), in 470 after a series of natural disasters had caused much suffering among the people. Archbishop Mamertus proclaimed a fast and ordered that special litanies and prayers be said as the population processed around their fields, asking God’s protection and blessing on the crops that were just beginning to sprout. The Latin word rogare means “to ask”, thus these were “rogation” processions. In an agricultural society, closely connected with the soil and highly vulnerable to the uncertainties of nature, this was an idea that took root quickly, and the custom spread around Europe and over to Britain. The Sunday before the Rogation Days came to be considered a part of Rogationtide (or “Rogantide”) and was known as Rogation Sunday. The Gospel formerly appointed for that day was from John 16, where Jesus tells his disciples to ask, and ye shall receive.

Gradually, the Rogation Days became a time of festival, celebrating the advent of spring and other things. The members of a parish would process around the boundaries of the parish, which could take a whole day.

The route of the walk was around the boundaries of the parish, which was a civil as well as a religious unit. Thus, the processions were useful in teaching people, particularly the young, their parish boundaries. Known as “beating the bounds,” the processions customarily stopped at boundary marks and other significant landmarks of the parish, such as a venerable tree, or a great rock, or perhaps a pond. The priest would read the Gospel and perhaps affix a cross to the landmark. Then the boys of the parish would suffer some indignity intended to help them remember the spot. Boys were bumped about against rocks and trees, thrown into the water, held upside-down over fences, thrown into bramble patches, or beaten with willow wands–and then given a treat in compensation. In later times, the marchers beat the boundary marker with the willow wands, beating the bounds, rather than the boys.

We, too, beat markers instead of boys.  We also had treats of beer (including non-alcoholic for those inclined or underage) and cookies to take home — “ganging beer” and “Rammalation Biscuits”:

“Ganging beer” was an ale specially brewed for the Rogation Days. This didn’t have a special recipe– it was just beer brewed for the day….

The Rogation Days also lay claim to a culinary mystery: an intriguing pastry known only as  “Rammalation Biscuits.” No one seems to have any idea what these were, though the word “rammalation” most likely derives from “perambulation.” So, perhaps you can make biscuits for your family that seem suitable for “rammalation.” Keep in mind, as well, that the British use the word “biscuits” to refer to cookies, so the boundaries for this particular pastry are wide indeed.

Although our procession was the first I’ve led and was without such accompaniments as incense and a crucifer, it went well, better than I expected really.  Not only that, I learned or rather relearned two lessons.

First, younger people really do like traditional worship and accompanying customs.  Our procession consisted mostly of men in their 20’s along with a teenage boy.  They clearly enjoyed it, more than I expected.  One might think they would find the use of the Litany and Book of Common Prayer collects (a type of prayer) and scripture lessons a bit dry, but not so.  And their enthusiasm in beating the bounds at least approached that of the Oxford schoolboys.

Second, one never quite knows how liturgical worship will affect him until one is doing it.  I’ve certainly discovered that on more than one Palm Sunday…

As for the Rogation procession on Sunday, I’ve long loved Luke 24:13-35, the account of the risen Jesus meeting two disciples on the road to Emmaus, but I cannot recall it ever making me teary-eyed . . . until I read it near the conclusion of our service.  (I nearly forgot to mention, since it was Easter Sunday for our Orthodox friends and because I think it appropriate this year to do MOAR Easter, I decided to include some Easter prayers and lessons.)  I had to pause twice.

I did not expect that at all.  But that illustrates a strength of traditional liturgical worship even when it lacks bells and smells as ours did Sunday.  Instead of trying to manipulate people into an emotional state as much evangelical worship does, trad worship lets the scriptures and prayers get ahold of you.  In the same service, that can mean different states of mind and emotions for different people as God intends, not a perhaps slick or annoying “worship leader”.

I did not realize it, but I needed to once again be impacted by how wonderful it is that “the Lord is risen indeed.” (Luke 24:34)  And reading scripture in the context of liturgical worship did just that.

May you also be blessed during these Rogation Days and then joyously celebrate the Ascension of our Lord on Thursday . . . unless you are Orthodox in which case I hope you have a glorious Easter Week.  And thanks for the excuse for my gathering to do MOAR Easter this past Sunday.  I personally was blessed beyond my expectations.

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Lead photo source: New Liturgical Movement where there are additional photos of a Rogation procession in France.