Summer Paraliturgy Notes

St. Swithun's day + reflecting on Pentecost and SJtB + stuff I'm reading + new things in the pipeline

St Swithin's day, if thou dost rain,
For forty days it will remain;
St Swithin's day, if thou be fair,
For forty days 'twill rain na mair

Tomb of St. Swithun (alternatively Swithin), Winchester Cathedral

Quick publication note: as summer progresses, I plan to pivot toward posting translations of Old Hispanic liturgical prayers with short commentaries, interspersed with these more personal posts about how I integrate inspirations from the medieval liturgy and literature into my own life. Please comment or reach out if you have specific questions or interests related to the Old Hispanic/Visigothic/Mozarabic liturgical traditions!

Happy Feast of Saint Swithin! Given the ongoing forecast of daily flash thunderstorms, we appear to be in for another 40 days of rain. You can blame the humidity for keeping me cooped up inside, but I’m waxing eloquent on more personal matters than usual today. Skim through the next few paragraphs if you’re just here for the paraliturgy and reading recommendations.

Looking back a year removed, summer 2024 was a total blur. There were playdates and pool parties and polo games, but all of the above were overshadowed by the ordeal of moving with a very active 1-year old,¹ the additional salt in the wound of a tree totalling our new car during a hurricane, and a cascade of medical events leading into the fall.

Moving homes tends to bring with it a sense of rootlessness. I dread ever doing it again, which our distressingly small kitchen will likely necessitate further down the line. Two years prior to summer 2024, I moved across an ocean during the third trimester to a house I had never seen with my own eyes and it felt like a comparative breeze! We settled barely 35 minutes away in the very town where I grew up and where my parents live and I still felt a massive upheaval. Perhaps it was because our first child spent the first two years of his life in the old house, perhaps it was the ridiculous amount of heavy antique furniture we had accumulated. All in all it was not an easy summer-defining event, and the year continued to prove difficult.

As survival mode wore off after a hectic (but overall more positive) start to 2025, and we have settled into our lovely new home, I have finally felt a shift to a more peaceful pace. I have been able to further orient my life more around the liturgical calendar, which has in turn provided a foundation of rootedness that, in some imperceptible, grace-filled way, trickles down into the other areas of my life. Sure, we could still lose our current stability and bad news could strike down some of the things we are excited for in the coming months. But at least we kicked off the season with a big ole paraliturgical Pentecost party!!

Fruits of the Spirit in action

Our Pentecost Cookout was a huge success. 30+ of our friends and family (biological and spiritual) came through in total–by far the largest crowd we have ever hosted!² I was so immersed in the bustle and camaraderie of it all I was sadly remiss in taking photos, but none of them would have been flattering because it was very hot and humid.

Since hosting, liturgical living, and “village-building” are all very trendy topics these days (at least in my circles), I thought I’d share a few takeaways from the successes of the day along with some of my hostessing philosophy.

Have plenty of beer but few chairs? Turn BYOB into BYOC! As this was a primarily outdoor event and we have maybe seven functional patio chairs, I encouraged guests to bring camping chairs and picnic blankets. The sun/shade pattern in our back yard changes a lot throughout the afternoon and we live on a slope, so people could adjust seating arrangements as needed. Spreading out in casual seating added a fun “picnic” feel and allowed folks to follow their kids around the gauntlet of grimy backyard toys while staying comfortable.

Paraliturgy in community need not be didactic. We didn’t actually talk much about Pentecost, except of course in the mealtime blessing that my husband led from his sacred post at the grill. Our friend group includes a wide range of religiosity: devout Catholics, people who started going to Church for the first time last year, and non-sectarian folks who are always down for a party no matter the cause. I am not quite to the point where I can give a lecture about medieval liturgical history while also making sure everybody is fed and that no child is locked in the bathroom so…I didn’t. Frankly, I suspect most medieval Christians who attending jousting tournaments or led prize cattle through the streets on Whitsunday didn’t spend the whole time chatting about evangelizing either.

It’s possible to host a crowd without relying on a potluck. I attend many potluck parties and I’ve mastered great crowd pleasers and contributed some epic fails.³ Many friends in our circles are pregnant, postpartum, or occupied by parenting many small children and I know from experience that in the thick of things, preparing a dish or remembering to stop by the store on the way to a party can feel unnecessarily burdensome to the point of spoiling anticipation. One of my biggest hostessing goals is for my home to be a stress-free gathering place. When I host, I always make enough of the basics to feed everyone, assure the guests that they don’t have to bring anything, and the Holy Spirit usually supplies enough master chefs who legitimately enjoy making food to add interest to the offerings.⁴ I don’t mean to suggest that potlucks are bad at all–and there are certain events that make more sense in a potluck format–this is just the model I have used lately.

Parish Paraliturgy

My parish is “St. John the Baptist” so naturally, his feast day at midsummer is the proper occasion for a grand parish picnic. The Church property is blessedly situated next to a small park with lots of shade, so the extreme heat did not dampen the fun (though it appeared to deter maximal attendance–our parish is growing at a rate of dozens of families a month and there was still plenty of space and food!)

I have a complex relationship with my parish because, well, I grew up here and received almost all my sacraments here, but was a very happy and involved member of the community at our recent parish where we lived for two years. Moving back to my hometown, which has changed a lot since I was young (there wasn’t even a Walmart until I was 11 years old), I feel like both a stranger (did I mention all the new families?) and an old hand with insider knowledge (the picture of my confirmation class hangs in the stairwell). In my youth, I saw many parish initiatives come and go–neither the young women’s group I attended as a tween nor the youth group I attended as a teen exist any more–so I wasn’t really sure what to expect.

As readers know, strong feelings on paraliturgy and liturgical living have percolated in my mind for many years now. I was afraid I would come to the parish picnic with an overly critical eye, and tried to temper my expectations accordingly. Fortunately I was far too busy advocating for my toddler’s place in line for the slip-n-slide to have any complaints,⁵ and I was in fact quite impressed. There in the shadow of the church, people of all ages enjoyed burgers, corn hole, slip n slides, bounce houses, and exhilarating community. A dedicated set of organizers and volunteers handled all the main courses while attendees were asked to bring either watermelon or cookies. I brought my “widow’s mite” of half a watermelon felt grateful to the parish for giving me a low bar for contributing.

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What I hope you take away from these my experiences as a hostess and a guest at paraliturgical experiences this summer is this: you can turn any classic American social activity into paraliturgy. Many liturgical living resources veer toward one of two extremes: replicating a historical recipe or activity from scratch or concocting something entirely new with a hyperspecific didactic meaning. Both of these practices can be super fun and help cultivate unique paraliturgical traditions, especially if you have kids of an age to help out. However, most traditional medieval paraliturgical activities were regular old activities (often related to the agricultural cycle) that were “baptized” by the association with a particular saint or feast. Why not baptize good old American summer BBQ? If you feel at a loss for how to merge your life with the liturgical year, I recommend holding your next cookout on a favorite Saint’s feast day (some big ones coming up are St. Christopher (traditionally), St. Ignatius of Loyola, and the Assumption).

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What I’m reading this summer

• I recently had a surprising realization about many of the most formative books I have ever read…most of them, I have not picked up in over 10 years. These are the books that I wrote my college application essays on, think about often, and put at the top of my “favorite books lists” and yet, they have sat untouched for a third of my life! I figured if they were so influential to my adolescence, they will be even more so for the next phase, so I have begun to reread them! Thanks to

  Liturgy in the Home with Maria
  I started with Brideshead Revisited, which was so, so much more enjoyable now that I have lived in England. It was also…more upsetting, because I’ve now seen the struggles depicted in the book played out in real life in ways I hadn’t at age 18. Now I’ve started rereading my favorite nonfiction book, C.S. Lewis’s Surprised by Joy, which unironically got me into Stanford University.⁶

• I have been reading Sebastian Morello’s now-infamous Mysticism, Magic, and Monasteries on and off for the past month or so. He uses the term “paraliturgy” early on which I appreciate. Haven’t found myself dabbling in hermetic magic yet.

• Late to the game but Julie Canlis’ Theology of the Ordinary is a really easy, accessible, thought-provoking read. Thank you

  Kristin Haakenson
  for introducing me to this text through Book Club!

• I try to keep an Agatha Christie audiobook on reserve for driving while the toddler is napping and Murder in Mesopotamia is probably my favorite so far. The archaeological setting, the psychology of the female characters, and the way the plot develops quite a lot before Poirot enters the scene (I had in fact completely forgotten I was still waiting for the detective to arrive) all add intrigue! No spoilers please, I still have about an hour left to listen to

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Reminder: I’m teaching an online Latin course for homeschoolers in the fall!

Sign up your high school-aged kids for “Section B” of this course if you’re interested!

Fiatis florentissimi,

Carolyn

1. Do not recommend at all but I do recommend the moving company we worked with, which helped make it all bearable.

2. Nevertheless, I made way too much potato salad. If it’s late at night and you’ve been peeling potatoes without counting, stop. ‘Tis enough.

3. Just this past weekend, my giant peach cobbler became a giant peach SOUP in the car on the way to the July 4th party. Next time I’m bringing red white & blue sprinkles cookies like everyone else.

4. I do assign particular needs (like bagged ice for the drink coolers, which I never remember to buy) to close friends or family who offer.

5. Except about big kids who relentlessly cut in line in front of littles.

6. My admissions officer told me that my short essay on this book was the most powerful part of my application. I owe a lot to C.S. Lewis and his youthful traumas!