Ablution as Spiritual Practice

Part Two of my “Mystical Dimensions of Everyday Worship”

Speaking as a guy who regularly ablutes at least thrice a day: you’re going about it wrong. Ablution is a physical act meant to purify oneself, not unlike baptism. However, unlike baptism, most ablutions are part of regular life, as is the case of Muslims. For us, we interpret it as a cleansing of our sins, simultaneously functioning to prepare us for what is to come — the prayer.

Think of it this way: is the date more important or the preparation for the date? If you know the answer, that’s what ablution is to you.

It’s essential insofar as it involves you getting prepared for someone you love [i.e. God], in hopes of courting Him and consummating your relationship. This consummation is typically henosis or mystic enlightenment — nirvana and all that — obtained after either arduous rituals preparing you for it, or by madness leading you into the wilderness of His Majesty. You find this at various points, typically within Christianity and Islam, but also some strands of Hinduism and whatnot, where you purify your soul, and make it a proper receptacle for divine grace.

It’s like wanting to pour yourself a drink in a clean vessel. God, or the Penultimate Being, wants to do exactly that. What we do, is give him what He wants, while also satisfying our desire of looking fancy for the one we love. That is not to say that you can’t approach It without purifying yourself or dressing up. Like all things, this neatness is but a mere facet to address the problem. The holistic structure made by such approaches is more of a continuous spectrum with segments that diffuse into one another, blurring the distinctions. Think rainbow gradients.

As such, you aren’t forbidden from going to Him dirty, unshamed, and wild. There’s a certain time in these things when you might want to delve into the kinky somewhat hedonistic side of things. That’s not bad, however, at certain extents, it becomes troublesome to some. Especially, if those some are rather unfortunately tied to dogmatism.

Magick, for the intents of our current conversation, and mysticism too, are fetishes or kinks that stud the path to God. Sort of like a yellow brick road for BDSM-inclined folk. On the contrary, religion, as in orthodoxic interpretations, particularly of Christianity and Islam, are intense germophobes, overly obsessed with cleaning every single spot. That’s well and good, but if you’re going to scrub so fervently that you end up bleaching the yellowness out of it, where does the yellow brick road go?

In most of these matters, faith is the most important thing. Or perhaps a sense of believing-ness, if that’s a word. There are plenty of people, talented people, who can get a mystic experience without having had faith. But there are two issues with that. One: such people are rare. Two: if you do happen to have a mystical encounter, it’s better to have a framework to deal with it. Express it, at the least.

It’s a lot lot simpler to at least recognize the person entering your house than not having ever seen them before.

Case in point, for me ablution is exactly how I described it. For us, prayer is the act of seeing God, a discussion that culminates in henosis — that’s how I see it — for which we need to first purify ourselves through ablution. This holds true for regular prayers, i.e., the obligatory ones. For other ventures, we can prostrate without the ablution, though those are done to show devotion. I know I do. It helps to know that each time I bow down, I am, in some form, enjoying an intertwining moment with my Lord, irrespective of whether I’m aware of it or not.

The same might hold true for other people out there. All of us indulge in some ritualized fancies before engaging with a spirit, be they of any kind. Half of it is unnecessary yet it contains a sense of individuation that cements that moment as yours. That’s why we do it. Because we want to.

Remember, worship is only fun if you’re the one having fun. Otherwise, you best leave it be.

Pictured Above: Chosen Scion, by Peter Mohrbacher.