Lammas: when the God dies

The wheat has been harvested and the chaff lies still on the fields. The sun daily burns the plants with its heat and water is nowhere to be found. There is a feeling of great strength in the land but also of being just one step away from balance. The lend slowly moves summer towards autumn but too slow for the plants, too slow for the animals. The Old rites might bring the balance back or at least keep away most of the harm. Who knows.... it feels as if the God is not being honoured, not being observed in his yearly struggle to give himself as the sacrifice: perhaps the rituals are as much part of the process as His self given over and in abdicating this responsibility, we curtail the power and doom the suffering creatures who cannot but be the sacrifice without our help.