My Master’s Degree Finally Means Something 😅

I spent my master’s dissertation trying to figure out why religious ritual was significant. I’ve been low-key wondering ever since I experienced the LDS endowment ceremony for the first time in 2018 because, logically, rituals don’t make any sense to me. 

Why does doing a certain action; a certain way, again and again and again make any difference to your connection with God? 

And I have a connection with God. Ever since I learned to let go of the shame that was keeping me from “facing” God, I’ve had a sustaining, love-filled connection that transcends anything physical. 

It wavers here and there depending on how much I let shame back into my life, but it’s also grown deeper every time I allow His light into some hidden part of me I previously would not allow myself to see. 

It’s everything I need.

So why rituals? 

I read about rituals, analyzed rituals, and intellectualized rituals with intensity while I wrote my Masters dissertation—with some level of success. I came away understanding that they were useful and important. But it also seemed there was some deeper mystery there that I couldn’t quite reach. 

So I left it, a bit work-weary of the subject anyway, and occasionally since then I’ve wondered what was the point of my dissertation?

Until just recently. 

I’ve recently been intrigued by another equally mysterious subject—the physical body. What’s the deal? Why’s it so important? And most of all, why the heck does LDS theology say it’s necessary to have a body to be like God? 

So I’ve been learning everything I can about the body, including how to be truly embodied… which has led me to a lot of eastern techniques like mindfulness, yoga, tantric philosophy… 

I’ve been learning to listen to my body, trust my body, and truly experience with my body… to the unexpected outcome that I may just now “get” religious rituals. 

This whole time I’ve tried to intellectualize something that can’t fully be intellectualized. Just like the body, it has to be experienced. 

It clicked for me when I decided to approach the regular Sunday ritual of the sacrament (communion) the way I’ve been learning to approach other bodily experiences—with mindfulness. 

Focus on the sensations. Be in the moment. Let thoughts and expectations go.

Accept 

Relax

Listen

See

Feel

Trust your body.

I experienced something different. 

I don’t fully understand it yet, and I can’t fully put it into words. 

Rituals don’t hold power as actions in themselves. Your body holds knowledge that doesn’t reach the brain, and can’t be put into words. Rituals unlock that power as you participate in them with your body. 

Not “going through the motion”. 

BE-ing there. In the motion. In your body. 

That’s when a mundane action becomes something more. And you experience something more. Sacred. Holy. Divine.

It’s more than connection with God. 

It’s becoming God.

​

Who is God?

God isn't who I thought he was when I was a kid. 

Back then God was distant. 

God was the hard-and-fast line between what was good and what was bad.

God was a cold, impersonal person who sat on a throne somewhere out there in the universe, who maybe looked my way every once in a while.

Mostly, God just wasn't around. My world functioned perfectly fine without him--only every once in a while, when I really needed something, I might try and make an effort at reaching him in a prayer (hoping and trying to muster enough faith for it to go the distance).

Today, my concept of God is completely different.

God is the warm flicker of the candles I light when I'm feeling down. 

God is the safety of my blanket when I wrap myself up tight and tuck in my feet. 

God is the excitement, depth, and color of my favorite songs on Spotify. 

God is intimately close to me in every moment of my life. He is the clear, inner ''knowing'' when my experience or logic can't make sense of what to do, when to do it, or what to make of the world around me.

It's me that's changed.

Back then I was distant. 

I was a hard-and-fast line who sorted the world (or myself) into ''good'' and ''bad.'' 

I didn't see how his influence surrounded and permeated the world I lived in. How every moment was both a reflection and a consequence of his love, power, compassion, and creation. 

That his eyes are always on me. His attention, concern, and compassion is always mine. 

When I speak, he hears. I didn't need to muster the faith to reach him.

I needed the faith to relax and let him hold me.