18/09/2026
**ÌṢẸ̀ṢE YESTERDAY AND TODAY: A JOURNEY FROM ANCESTRAL TRADITION TO MODERN PRACTICE**
There was a time when Ìṣẹ̀ṣe was not something our people needed to explain. It was lived, practiced, respected, and transmitted from one generation to another.
**Ìṣẹ̀ṣe is a religion.**
It is an indigenous Yoruba religious tradition rooted in the relationship between humanity, Olódùmarè, Òrìṣà, Àwọn Àgbà, Àwọn Baba-nlá, nature, destiny, and the sacred order of existence. It is also a way of life and an important expression of Yoruba identity and ancestral heritage.
Our ancestors did not see religion as something completely separated from everyday life. Spirituality was woven into family, community, agriculture, leadership, festivals, birth, marriage, death, moral conduct, and the search for guidance.
Ìṣẹ̀ṣe was lived.
Ìṣẹ̀ṣe was taught.
Ìṣẹ̀ṣe was protected.
Ìṣẹ̀ṣe was transmitted.
In those days, sacred knowledge was largely passed through family, lineage, elders, priests, priestesses, Babaláwo, Ìyáláwo, and apprenticeship. Learning required patience and discipline.
An apprentice watched before speaking.
Listened before teaching.
Learned before claiming mastery.
Knowledge was not simply something to collect; it came with responsibility.
Our ancestors understood that knowing the name of something was not the same as understanding its essence. They understood that performing a ritual was not necessarily the same as understanding its meaning.
That is one of the lessons modern Ìṣẹ̀ṣe practitioners must never forget.
Today, the world has changed.
Technology has brought Ìṣẹ̀ṣe to an audience beyond the geographical boundaries of Yorùbáland. Through books, social media, online communities, documentaries, music, festivals, lectures, and digital communication, people across Nigeria and the diaspora are reconnecting with Ifá, Òrìṣà worship, indigenous spirituality, Yoruba philosophy, festivals, language, and ancestral knowledge.
This is a significant moment for the Ìṣẹ̀ṣe religion.
But with greater visibility comes greater responsibility.
**The internet can provide information; it cannot replace proper spiritual training.**
A social-media post is not apprenticeship.
A title is not automatically mastery.
Popularity is not automatically authority.
Followers are not automatically students.
And financial success is not automatically evidence of spiritual knowledge.
We must therefore ask ourselves:
Are we preserving the religion of our ancestors, or are we merely preserving the appearance of it?
Because Ìṣẹ̀ṣe is more than clothing.
More than beads.
More than drumming.
More than dancing.
More than festivals.
More than social-media photographs.
More than the possession of religious titles.
Behind the outward expressions are spiritual principles, sacred knowledge, philosophy, rituals, ethics, history, discipline, community, and responsibility.
The modern Ìṣẹ̀ṣe community therefore has a sacred responsibility to preserve both the form and substance of the religion.
Let technology assist us, but let it not replace apprenticeship.
Let us welcome those in the diaspora who sincerely desire to learn, while helping them understand the structure and depth of the religion.
Let us encourage questions rather than shame those who are still learning.
Let teachers teach with responsibility.
Let students learn with humility.
Let elders guide with wisdom.
Let practitioners represent the religion with dignity.
And let us be careful not to allow **Ìṣòwò**: the excessive commercialization of Ìṣẹ̀ṣe to overpower Ìsòrò**: the genuine practice, preservation, and transmission of the tradition.
There is nothing inherently wrong with people earning a legitimate livelihood through their knowledge and services. But the moment money, fame, titles, or social-media recognition become more important than ìmọ̀, ìwà, ìfarabalẹ̀, sùúrù, àti ojúṣe (knowledge, character, humility, patience, and responsibility), we must stop and reflect.
Ìṣẹ̀ṣe is a religion, but it is also an inheritance.
And an inheritance is not merely something to possess.
It is something to protect.
Yesterday, our ancestors carried the torch.
Today, the torch is in our hands.
Tomorrow, it will belong to the generation coming after us.
So the question is not simply whether Ìṣẹ̀ṣe will survive.
The deeper question is:
**What kind of Ìṣẹ̀ṣe will we hand over to the next generation?**
Will we hand them knowledge or confusion?
Discipline or shortcuts?
Authenticity or performance?
Structured learning or instant claims of mastery?
Community or unnecessary competition?
A living religion or merely an attractive cultural display?
Let us become the generation that does not merely talk about Ìṣẹ̀ṣe but understands, practices, preserves, documents, teaches, and represents the religion with integrity.
Let us honour Olódùmarè.
Let us respect the Òrìṣà.
Let us value our ancestors.
Let us preserve our sacred knowledge.
Let us strengthen our communities.
Let us cultivate Ìwà Pẹ̀lẹ́.
And let us never forget the responsibility that comes with being custodians of an indigenous religion that has travelled from the ancestral past into the modern world.
From our ancestors, we received the torch.
In our hands, it must not go dark.
Ire ni o
Babaláwo Adépọ̀jù Oláolúwa
