There is power in the words we speak in ritual. There is power in those words to move us, to alter our conscious perceptions of time and space. We hear the words of ritual and sense the stirrings behind our eyes, feel the change in the air we breathe, hear the subtle shift in tone and cadence as words of magick work to create our sacred space. The words guide our thoughts, our very consciousness, into the time and place that are of no time and no place.
The power of words and language is entwined deeply for many of us with the creation of sacred space. Whether it is the chant used for casting the circle, or the measured speech we use when calling upon the gods and goddesses we worship, the words we choose give solemnity and weight to the working of our magick. As pagans, we know the weight of our words once spoken, the power to bind ourselves and others, the currents that send our energy forth and draw back thricefold what we give.
In exploring the power of words, I have begun to explore the power of languages other than our native tongue to carry the mind and spirit within sacred space. My personal proclivity toward Celtic culture and religion has lead me to the study of Scots Gaelic, motivated in large part by a desire to use this ancient language of my ancestors as the language of my rituals. Despite the daunting challenge of learning a language endlessly complex and confusing, I have a growing appreciation of the strength of this language when used to create sacred space and to raise and focus energy.
At Samhain this past autumn, I had the perfect opportunity to apply my study of Gaelic to ritual work. The word "Samhain" itself means "November" in Gaelic, and this Sabbat is tied most closely in my mind with Celtic tradition. A ritual focused on communication with our ancestors and beloved dead, when the veil is thinnest, proved to be an extraordinary setting for speaking words of power in this ancient language, to ancient souls, the spirits of my Scottish forebears.
It was my place in the ritual to stand at the gates and bid welcome to the ancestors. I stood to offer my words of welcome, speaking of the thinning of the veils, of us and the dead walking between the worlds. I spoke, standing before an ancient oil lamp formed by the hands of our ancestors 2000 years ago. I spoke, focusing on the pictures and emblems of our beloved dead on the altar before me. And then I spoke in Gaelic, loudly, deeply, legs utterly a-tremble:
A'nochd, s'e Oidhche Shamhna
A'nochd, tha sinne ag ol comhla ri ar sinnsirean
A'nochd, tha sinne ag ithe comhla ri ar sinnsirean
A'nochd, tha shinne a'dannsagh comhla ri ar sinnsirean.
Tha ar sinnsirean an-seo!
Ceud mile failte agaibh!
A'nochd, s'e an t-aite naomh.Tonight, it is Halloween
Tonight, we drink with our ancestors
Tonight, we eat with our ancestors
Tonight, we dance with our ancestors.
Our ancestors are here!
A hundred thousand welcomes to you!
Tonight, this is the holy place.
I spoke and felt my being swell and sway, amazed, suddenly feeling, truly feeling in these few simple words the connection with my past, understanding that my ancestors wore kilts and worshiped in whatever way they saw fit, in Gaelic, and here I stood, clad in my kilt, calling welcome to my ancestors in their tongue, in Gaelic. I felt in my body the continuity of kin, that I live as they lived before me, as others will after me. I felt the power of my words in the room, resonating with the effort I had put into learning to communicate in Gaelic, resonating with my desire to connect with my roots, the history of my clan. Indeed these words had a more profound meaning because I had toiled to be able to speak them, worked to be able to understand them, and the energy put into those words flowed back to me threefold, easily.
Now approaching Beltaine, my knowledge of Gaelic is growing, as is my appreciation for the richness of the language, and the depth it brings to my ritual work. I've written a chant which I use regularly now for casting a circle in my personal rituals. I also find now that there is a deeper resonance and noticeable feeling of quickening when I call on the Celtic deities in a language used by people so long ago devoted to these same gods and goddesses, the language spoken indeed by my own kindred, once upon a time, perhaps to call the names of the same gods.
Tha sinne a'deanamh cearcall an teine
The sinne a'dannsadh troimh thir agus mhuir
Bitheadh e aite nan diathan dearrsanta
Bitheadh e aite na diathan ar treubha
Tha an t-am a muigh
Tha ar treubh a staigh
`S e an t-aite naomh a-nis!We are making a circle of fire
We are dancing through land and sea
Let this be a place of the shining gods
Let this be a place of the gods of our tribe
Time is without
our tribe within
This is now the holy place!
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