Rogation

Rogationtide by Marion Watson

Harvest was a time where thanks was given for the fruits, vegetables and preserves our ancestors would have donated. But many churches still have a harvest supper with dishes made from local produce and there is often a harvest loaf shaped like a wheatsheaf with sometimes a tiny dough mouse running up the stalks. There is, however another festival earlier in the year which I wish we still celebrated. It is called Rogationtide and at this time the clergy and congregation used to visit fields and blessed the crops.

Although the rituals of blessing the crops probably go back to pre-Christian times and the Romans prayed for a good harvest in June, Rogation originated in the early Church as three fast days, being the Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday before Ascension Day with the preceding Sunday, the fifth after Easter being known as Rogation Sunday. Mamertus, bishop of Vienne, is said to have instituted processions, with litanies, on those days after earthquakes, volcanic eruptions and plagues devastated his diocese in about AD 467. Thus it gets its name from the Latin rogatio meaning 'intercession' - to ask or beseech. In AD 511 the first Council of Orleans extended the custom to the whole of Gaul and from there the practice quickly spread through the Western Church reaching England in the early eighth century. Later, in the Church of England, it became a time for perambulations around the parish to bless fields, allotments, gardens and even the sea. The old name for Rogation days is Gang Days from the Anglo-Saxon gangen meaning to 'go' or 'walk'.

After the Reformation, Elizabethan clergy were allowed to continue to beat the bounds and to preach or offer prayers at certain points along the way. So Rogation also became a chance to preserve established parish boundaries at a time when maps were scarce and the simplest way of remembering where the limits lay was to walk round them once a year. Young people would have this firmly impressed on their memories by being bumped on stones, thrown into water, dragged through hedges and over walls and made to climb up rooftops. Later they would be compensated by being given gifts of money or goods. Bread, cheese and ale was served after the ceremony. Such an experience would be firmly etched in their memories. It was important that parish officers knew the limits of their administration for burial and poor-law purposes so that should any boundary dispute arise at a later date they would remember quite clearly the markers where they received such rough treatment. Poole, in Dorset, still has a ceremony of 'Beating the Bounds' which originated to establish who had jurisdiction over the harbour. In London one of the markers in the parish of St Clement Danes is now below ground level so that a choirboy has to be lowered by his heels to reach it.

Rogation was also a time when by walking in neighbourly companionship any differences and quarrels could be reconciled. At South Petherton, in Somerset, villagers linked arms and danced around the church in a ritual known as the 'Clipping Ceremony' designed to reinforce friendship.

Rogation and bound-beating became intertwined because as boundary marks such as stones, trees or ponds were reached the parson paused to give thanks for the fruits of the earth. Some fields which contained these marks still retain names like Gospel Amen and Paternoster. A Gospel Oak was a tree which acted as a boundary marker and under which the clergyman read from the Gospel.

In parts of Somerset and Wiltshire, famous for their lush grasslands and rich dairy produce, Rogation Monday was the time for selling summer grazing and haying rights. At Wishford the sale takes place in the church porch with the buyers being summoned by the church bell a quarter of an hour before sunset and the sale being made to the last bidder precisely as the sun goes down.

In coastal parishes the sea and fishing industry would be blessed too. At Brixham, in Devon, there is a waterside service on Rogation Sunday. In Kent, Northumberland and at Mudeford, in Dorset, clergy and choirs sail out into the harbour to bless the boats. At Wyke Regis and Abbotsbury in the same county children make garlands of flowers and skip through the streets to hang them on the fishing boats. When they sailed the garlands would be thrown on to the waters of West Bay. In Brighton and Hastings, Sussex, services to bless the nets and mackerel are held on the beach.

Rogationtide services have, for the most part, died out although they were revived in some places after the second world war, for example in East Anglia and I can recall taking part in some in Wiltshire. They tended to be rather ecumenical affairs with most of the local congregations uniting for an evening service. They often started in one place of worship and ended at another. In between the congregation processed through the countryside making stops to bless arable crops, grassland, a garden, a farmyard and a well. If there was not a well available then a cattle drinking-trough had to do instead. At each stop a prayer would be said, a lesson read and a hymn sung. After the service there would be a Rogation Supper in the village hall or large farmhouse kitchen.

Here local produce could be sampled, ham, cheese, pork pies, flans made with local bacon, eggs, onions and cheese, served with salads made from early produce, perhaps the first lettuces and radishes from the garden or greenhouse-grown tomatoes and cucumbers. The first gooseberries are ripe by the end of May (they are traditionally associated with Whit Sunday) so maybe a pie made from them. Possibly home-made bread would be served and sometimes farmhouse butter or pickles and chutneys prepared the previous autumn and, by now, nicely matured.

We still have Harvest Festival and it seems a pity that for the most part we no longer celebrate Rogationtide. They seem to belong as a pair. In late spring we ask a blessing on the growing crops and in the autumn we give thanks for a successful harvest. Today we may import foods from all over the world but together these two festivals mark the beginning and end of our own growing season.