Warm sunshine lengthening the days, fresh green shoots bursting out of branches, daffodils unfolding, the smell of earth after a rain shower, everybody loves spring. There is no person who does not anticipate the end of winter. Grove City students especially rejoice in spring with more picnic blankets and spikeball nets joining the Quad as the semester progresses. It seems that our ancestors in Anglo-Saxon England relished spring just as much. In the month of May during the early 700s AD, the Christian holiday Rogantide captured the atmosphere of spring. It symbolized the intersection of the liturgical and seasonal calendar.
The name Rogantide comes from the Latin word rogare which means “to ask.” This denotes the nature of the holiday, which was devoted to prayer. For the Anglo-Saxon church, Rogantide marked the three days of preparation before Ascension Day. The whole parish would process around the community through its villages and fields praying to God for blessing and prosperity in the spring season as well as asking for forgiveness for sins. There were certain Rogantide hymns sung to praise God for his loving care and kindness manifested in the blossoming trees and plants. The purpose was a time of communal penance and orientation towards God. It was also an opportunity to pray over and consecrate the physical spaces the community lived their lives in.
Rogantide processions usually entailed a special sermon. Several priests recorded their sermons often using the spring weather as a metaphor for God’s goodness and provision such as this excerpt by Abbot AElfric of Eynsham. He writes, “He [God] upholds all creation without labor…Who may speak in words of the ornaments of the heavens, or the fruitfulness of the earth?” For the medieval man, the atmosphere of spring and creation offered insight into God’s ways connecting the physical world with spiritual reality. Walking about allowed the parish to observe God’s fingerprints on creation.
Rogantide was a holiday that involved everyone: craftsmen and clergy, housewives and farmers, merchants and lords, old men and children all gathered in celebration. Work was forbidden during the three days of the feast, emphasizing rest and restoration with God and the parish. While the church designed the processions for penance and worship, large crowds walking about the blossoming fields cultivated an air of festivity. Music, games, and feasting often followed the prayer and hymns. Through communal celebration, people were reminded that they belonged to each other and to their Creator.
Overall the holiday of Rogantide gives us insights into the medieval mind. A man’s identity and work was not his own. His life was not separate from God, the land, the church and his community. The spheres of work, and worship were interwoven into a continuous whole. Historian Eleanor Parker in her book Winters in the World sums it up using the Anglo-Saxon word hal, which means wholeness or oneness. She writes, “Etymologically speaking, ‘to heal’ and ‘to hallow’ are both ‘to make’ whole. The Rogation Days seek physical and spiritual health for the individual, the community and the natural world; all are connected, one harmonious whole.”
Today, in America’s secular individualistic culture, it is important for Christians to intentionally seek to create communal sacred spaces and traditions that draw us closer to God’s reality. Living as a community in a way that embodies the reality of God as an active creator and sustainer takes thought and intentionality. It is in this way we can learn from the Rogantide of the Middle Ages. Perhaps this is a holiday we are missing in our Church calendar. What could it look like to revive a spring tradition of the Christian heritage? Maybe a prayer walk full of thanksgiving to God with friends or one’s church is the best way to enjoy the spring weather.
