Mark: Alright Michelle, I'm going to say a book title, and I want your gut reaction. The Power of Ritual. What comes to mind? Michelle: Honestly? Sounds like something my yoga instructor would say right before telling me to buy a $200 crystal. A little... fluffy? Mark: Perfect. Because that's exactly the stereotype this book is here to shatter. We're diving into The Power of Ritual: Turning Everyday Activities into Soulful Practices by Casper ter Kuile. And what's fascinating about him is that he's not some new-age guru. He's a Harvard Divinity School scholar who co-hosts the wildly popular podcast Harry Potter and the Sacred Text. Michelle: Wait, the Harry Potter podcast? I've heard of that! So he's applying serious theological thinking to... Hogwarts? Mark: Exactly. He’s taking the ancient practice of sacred reading, something monks have done for centuries, and applying it to a story about a boy wizard. And that's the core of the book: finding profound, sacred meaning in the places we'd least expect. Michelle: Okay, I’m intrigued. So if he's treating Harry Potter like a sacred text, is that what this whole book is about? Finding religion in pop culture? Mark: That’s a huge part of it. He argues we're living through a major paradigm shift. For centuries, meaning and community were bundled together in religious institutions. You went to one place for your spiritual guidance, your social life, your moral framework. But now, participation in those institutions is declining fast. He points to the rise of the "Nones"—people who tick "nothing in particular" on religious surveys. That's 40% of millennials. Michelle: I can see that. A lot of people I know feel spiritual, but they don't feel like they belong in a traditional church, synagogue, or mosque. Mark: Precisely. So ter Kuile says we're "unbundling" tradition. We're taking the parts that still resonate—like community, reflection, ritual—and finding them in new, secular places. And his most provocative example, the one that really makes you stop and think, is CrossFit.

Michelle: CrossFit? As in, the place with the giant tires and people dropping heavy weights and yelling? That’s a spiritual home? Mark: It sounds wild, but he and his research partner kept hearing the same phrase over and over from people across the country: "CrossFit is my church." And when they dug in, they saw why. It’s not just a workout; it’s a community with a shared ethos. They have consistent, weekly gatherings. They have a shared language. They even have rituals. Michelle: What kind of rituals? Like a ceremonial protein shake? Mark: (laughs) Close. They have something called "hero workouts." When a member of the military, a first responder, or a CrossFit member dies in the line of duty, they create a grueling workout in their name. Thousands of people around the world do this workout to honor that person's life and sacrifice. It’s a shared, embodied ritual of remembrance and respect. Michelle: Wow. Okay, that's... a lot deeper than I expected. That’s not just exercise, that’s a communal act of honoring someone. Mark: It is. And it creates this incredible bond. The founder of CrossFit even leaned into it, saying community is built through "shared suffering and laughter." Ter Kuile argues these places are filling a void. They provide belonging, personal transformation, and a sense of shared purpose—all things people used to find exclusively in religious settings. Michelle: That makes sense, but I have to push back a little. Calling a gym a 'church' feels... like a stretch. I mean, people are there to get fit. They're sweating and grunting. Isn't that fundamentally different from a space designed for quiet contemplation and worship? Mark: That's the key distinction the book makes: the difference between a routine and a ritual. Going to the gym every Tuesday is a routine. But going to the gym with the intention of connecting with your body, pushing your limits alongside others, and sharing in a collective experience—that transforms it into a ritual. It’s about three things: intention, attention, and repetition. Michelle: Intention, attention, repetition. Okay. So it’s the meaning you layer on top of the action. Mark: Exactly. And it doesn't have to be something as intense as CrossFit. Ter Kuile shares a deeply personal story about this. When he was a gay teenager at a very traditional English boarding school, he felt incredibly isolated. He was lonely and felt like he didn't belong. Michelle: Oh, I can only imagine. That sounds tough. Mark: It was. And his escape, his sanctuary, was the movie You've Got Mail. He would watch it over and over. It wasn't just a movie to him; it was a sacred text. It held the promise of connection, of finding love in an unexpected way. Watching it became his private ritual for comfort and hope. Michelle: I totally get that. I have movies and books like that, the ones you return to when you're feeling lost. They feel like old, wise friends. I never thought of it as a 'ritual,' but that’s exactly what it is. You're not just watching it; you're performing an act of self-care and reconnection. Mark: And that’s his point. We are all already doing this. We have these little personal rituals that we might dismiss as silly habits. But the book gives us permission to see them as legitimate, powerful spiritual practices. It validates that instinct. Michelle: Okay, I'm sold on the idea that we can create our own rituals. But it still feels a bit abstract. How do we actually do it? Where do we even start if we feel disconnected and don't have a CrossFit 'church' to join? Mark: That's the perfect question, and it leads right to the second half of the book, which is the practical blueprint. Ter Kuile argues that a rich, connected life is built on four key relationships. He calls them the four connections: connecting with yourself, with others, with nature, and with transcendence.

Michelle: A four-part framework. I like that. It feels manageable. So let's break it down. What does he mean by 'connecting with self'? Mark: Connecting with yourself is about carving out time to listen to your own inner voice, away from the noise of the world. He offers two main practices for this. The first is what we've been talking about: sacred reading. Treating a text—any text, from a poem to a novel to a non-fiction book—as a source of wisdom and reflection. You read it not just for information, but to ask: What does this story teach me about my own life? Michelle: Like what he does with Harry Potter. Mark: Exactly. The second practice is the Sabbath. And he modernizes it. He’s not necessarily talking about a strict religious day of rest, but the principle of intentionally unplugging. He's a huge advocate for a "tech sabbath"—one day a week with no screens. He cites studies showing how our constant screen time is linked to anxiety and sleep disturbance. A tech sabbath is a ritual to reclaim your time and your mind. Michelle: A whole day without a phone? That sounds both terrifying and amazing. But what about the second connection, connecting with others? In an age of loneliness, that feels like the most urgent one. Mark: It is. And his primary ritual for this is incredibly simple: eating together. He tells the story of an organization called The Dinner Party. It was started by a young woman named Lennon Flowers after her mother died. She was in her twenties and felt like she couldn't talk about her grief with her friends without making them uncomfortable. Michelle: Oh, that's such a lonely feeling. When you're going through something huge and everyone else is just... not. Mark: Right. So she and a friend decided to host a dinner. They invited other twentysomethings who had also experienced a significant loss. And in that space, over a shared meal, they could finally talk openly. It was so powerful that it grew organically. Now, The Dinner Party has hundreds of tables in cities all over the world. It’s a community built around the simple, ancient ritual of breaking bread together. Michelle: That's beautiful. It takes this profound, isolating experience of grief and transforms it into a source of connection. That’s the power of a shared ritual right there. Mark: It’s a perfect example. And it highlights the importance of repetition. They meet every month. That consistency builds trust and deepens the relationships over time. Michelle: Okay, so we have Self and Others. What about connecting with Nature? This is one where I see some of the reader critiques coming in. The book has been praised for its accessibility, but some have pointed out that suggestions like 'go on a pilgrimage' can feel financially out of reach for a lot of people. What's the 'budget version' of connecting with nature? Mark: That's a very fair critique, and ter Kuile addresses it. He says a pilgrimage doesn't have to be a grand trip to Spain to walk the Camino de Santiago. It can be a walk from your back door to a local park you love. The structure is the same: you set an intention for the walk, you pay attention to the world around you, and you reflect on it afterward. Michelle: So it’s about the mindset, not the mileage. Mark: Precisely. He tells a story about growing up in a forest and how, as a kid, he’d run into the woods when he was angry or upset. The "forest bath," as he calls it, would always calm him down. The point is to remember we are part of the natural world, even if we live in a concrete jungle. He even talks about a city that assigned email addresses to trees so people could report broken branches. Michelle: An email address for a tree? How did that go? Mark: Instead of problem reports, the city got thousands of love letters. People writing to their favorite oak tree, telling it how much they appreciate its shade. It revealed this deep, innate desire we have to connect with nature. Michelle: I love that. Okay, last one. Connecting with 'transcendence.' That word can be intimidating. It sounds very religious. Mark: It can be, but he re-frames it. For him, transcendence is simply connecting with something larger than yourself. It could be art, music, or a sense of awe. And the main practice he offers is prayer. But again, he unbundles it. Prayer isn't necessarily about asking a deity for things. He quotes the theologian Walter Burghardt, who defined prayer as simply "a long, loving look at the real." Michelle: A long, loving look at the real. That’s a much more accessible definition. Mark: Isn't it? It’s about being honest with yourself about what you're grateful for (thanksgiving), what you're sorry for (contrition), what you're in awe of (adoration), and what you hope for (supplication). It’s a structured way to check in with your own soul. It can be a conversation with God, or it can be a conversation with yourself in a journal. The form is flexible; the intention is what makes it a ritual.

Michelle: So when you put it all together, it’s a really holistic approach. It’s not just one thing. It’s this latticework of connection—to yourself, to the people around you, to the natural world, and to a sense of purpose or wonder. Mark: That's the perfect word for it, a latticework. Each connection supports the others. And the beauty of the framework is that you can start anywhere, with what you already do. Your morning coffee, walking the dog, reading a chapter of a book before bed. By bringing intention, attention, and repetition to it, you can transform it into a soulful practice. Michelle: But what I'm really hearing, underneath all of this, is a quiet rebellion. It feels like a rebellion against the modern cult of productivity and the crisis of loneliness. The book cites this staggering research that social isolation is more harmful to our health than smoking fifteen cigarettes a day. Mark: It's a public health crisis. And from that perspective, these rituals aren't just 'nice-to-haves' or self-helpy fluff. They are a form of survival. They are the practical tools we need to fight back against the forces that are pulling us apart. Michelle: And it changes the whole goal. It’s not about 'building' community from scratch, which sounds exhausting. It’s about something else. Mark: It is. Ter Kuile's ultimate point, and he draws this from the Irish poet and theologian John O'Donohue, is that we don't build connection. We are already connected. We are born into a web of relationships with people, with nature, with the universe. The problem is, we forget. Michelle: We forget. So the rituals are just reminders? Mark: Exactly. The rituals are the tools to help us remember our inherent belonging. It’s an awakening, not a construction project. You're not building a bridge to something far away; you're just clearing the fog so you can see the bridge that's already there. Michelle: That's a beautiful way to put it. It makes you look at your own life differently, to search for the rituals you're already performing without realizing it. So for everyone listening, what's one small, everyday thing you already do that you could turn into a ritual? A morning coffee? Listening to a specific song on your commute? Mark: We'd love to hear your ideas. Share them with us on our social channels. Let's build a library of modern rituals together. It feels like we need it now more than ever. Michelle: This is Aibrary, signing off.