Rites of Passage and Why Events Need a Beginning, Middle, and End

In 1908, the anthropologist Arnold van Gennep published a short book called Les rites de passage, describing a pattern he'd noticed across dozens of unrelated cultures: whenever a group marks a major life transition — birth, coming of age, marriage, death — the ritual tends to follow the same three-part structure. First, separation, where the person is symbolically removed from their old status. Then liminality, a suspended, in-between state where normal rules don't quite apply. Finally, incorporation, where they're welcomed back into the community with a new identity.

This structure shows up constantly in event planning, and not just weddings, where the connection is obvious. It appears in graduation ceremonies, corporate onboarding events, even product launches. Once you see the pattern, it becomes easy to notice which events have it and which ones are missing a piece — and the ones missing a piece are almost always the ones that feel flat.

Separation: the event needs a clear beginning

Van Gennep's first phase is about marking a threshold — a clear signal that says "you are leaving your ordinary life and entering something else." In practice, this is why the walk down an aisle works, why a graduation procession works, why a product launch that opens with something disorienting or unexpected works better than one that just starts with a slide deck.

The events that fail here tend to just... begin. People are mingling, then someone taps a microphone and starts talking, and nothing about the transition was marked. Guests don't fully arrive, mentally, at the event — they're still half in the parking lot.

Liminality: the middle has to feel different from ordinary life

This is the part people underestimate most. The liminal phase is supposed to feel suspended — outside normal social rules. This is why weddings allow behavior (dancing, toasts, tears) that would be strange at a Tuesday lunch. It's why a well-run conference has a different social texture than a normal workday, even though people are, technically, still just talking about work.

This is also, arguably, the actual function of an open bar, a dance floor, an unusual venue, or a surprising bit of programming — not decoration, but a genuine signal that says "the ordinary rules are suspended here." Events that skip this and just recreate an ordinary meeting or dinner in fancier clothes tend to be remembered as fine, but forgettable.

Incorporation: people need to leave differently than they arrived

The final phase is about closure and reintegration. A wedding reception ending with the couple's exit is a clean incorporation moment. A graduation ceremony ending with the flipping of tassels is one too. But a lot of corporate events skip this entirely — they just... end. People trickle out. There's no moment that says "you are now returning to ordinary life, but something has shifted."

This sounds abstract, but it has a very practical effect: events with a clear closing moment get remembered as complete experiences. Events that just fade out get remembered as, at best, pleasant, and are far more likely to be forgotten within a week.

Why this matters beyond weddings

Van Gennep's structure applies just as well to corporate work, children's parties, and academic events — not just the ceremonies it was originally describing — because the underlying psychology doesn't care what kind of event it is. People need a clear entry, a distinct middle, and a real close, or the event doesn't fully register as an event. It registers as an extended, slightly odd version of ordinary time.

This is part of what it means to say every great event has the same essential components at its core, regardless of type. The anthropology isn't a metaphor layered onto event planning after the fact — it's a genuine framework for thinking through the shape of an event before a single vendor gets booked.