Take Me to Church: The Sacred, the Profane, and the Becoming of Will Graham
On a macroscopic level, Hozier’s Take Me to Church is a fierce satire against religious moralism and the hypocrisy of institutions that claim the right to dictate what is pure and what is a sin. To dismantle this worldview, Hozier subverts the language of the Church: guilt, sin, confession, and worship no longer belong to the institution, but are instead reclaimed by human love. The lover becomes the altar, and their intimacy—though judged as "sick" by society—becomes the only genuinely sacred space.
It is precisely on this symbolic level that the song intersects with Will Graham’s journey toward Hannibal Lecter. Both narratives depict a conscious choice to completely surrender oneself to another, accepting that such vulnerability is the only possible form of truth. The scene in the catacombs on Palermo is the most painful expression of this. After surviving being disemboweled and losing Abigail, Will seeks neither revenge nor justice; instead, he sets out to search for Hannibal across the globe because his absence destroys him. He even returns to the Baltimore kitchen—the site of his trauma—simply to sit on the floor where he had been left to bleed alongside Abigail. Psychologically, this is an incredibly powerful gesture. Trauma survivors typically avoid the places where their trauma occurred; Will does the exact opposite. He does this because that kitchen represents not just a place of violence, but the final, absolute space he and Hannibal shared. Not knowing where Hannibal is, or if he will ever see him again, Will desperately seeks his presence through what remains. That is where Alana Bloom finds him—a woman for whom Will once felt a sincere romantic interest. Now, however, he bluntly pushes her away, explaining that he is honoring the quiet agreement he and Hannibal made:
"A mutually unspoken pact to ignore the worst in one another in order to continue enjoying the best."
There is no room for resentment. Will is suffering because he has finally understood that he was deeply loved by Hannibal, and that loss has become unbearable. This journey culminates in Palermo. Will’s mind projects the figure of Abigail Hobbs, who is nothing more than the reflection of his own guilt, representing the part of him still drawn to Hannibal. Abigail is angry at Will for lying to Hannibal and trying to capture him. But Abigail is a projection. It is Will who is furious with himself.
Inside the Cappella Palatina, Will finds what Hannibal has prepared for him: a human body, severed and reassembled to form a giant anatomical heart. Faced with this macabre tableau, Will exhibits no moral outrage or disgust. On the contrary, his reaction mirrors that of a lover who has just discovered a letter of love and pain written exclusively for him: Hannibal has left him his broken heart.
Shortly after, in the crypt, sensing Hannibal’s presence, he tries to reach him, but Hannibal chooses to remain unseen, and Will eventually stops searching. He calls out his name and, eyes welling with tears, whispers: "I forgive you."
This is not a top-down, moral pardon; it directly answers the question Hannibal asked him right before slitting Abigail’s throat: "I forgive you, Will. Will you forgive me?"
When Hannibal discovered he had been deceived by Will, he became convinced that their world could no longer exist. So, he destroyed any possibility of creating it. Forgiving him means acknowledging that Hannibal’s violence was born from Will’s own emotional betrayal. It is a forgiveness that doesn't erase the past, but validates the other's pain. By telling Hannibal he forgives him, Will is saying it to himself as well.
Yet, the devastating power of the scene lies primarily in the fact that Will makes this gesture into the void. He doesn’t know if Hannibal will hear him, if he will answer, or if he even still cares about him. And yet, he cannot help but try. It is a genuine act of faith—as if to say:
"I am here. I understand who you are and the pain I inflicted upon you. I have no defenses left, no more excuses. I have forgiven you for the blood you spilled because I finally comprehend the hurt I caused you, but please, do not leave me alone."
This path of absolute vulnerability aligns perfectly with Hozier’s rawest lyrics: "I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife."
By returning to Hannibal and offering his forgiveness, Will fully exposes his vulnerability and accepts the wound he received as the price of his betrayal. To the outside world, their bond remains a pathology: "We were born sick, you heard them say it."
And even if, later on, that same morality returns to haunt Will—reigniting his inner conflict and the idea that killing Hannibal is the only real way out—at this precise moment in Palermo, all morality is suspended by the sheer force of love and longing. The deepest wound is not the one in his abdomen, but the void left by Hannibal's absence. That "I forgive you" thus becomes the desperate confession of someone who would rather share the other's pain than survive in a world that was never capable of seeing and accepting him the way Hannibal did.
This is how I imagined Take Me to Church adapted and re-signified, if it were sung—or rather, exhaled into the darkness of the catacombs—by Will Graham for Hannibal Lecter:
Take Me to Church - Will’s Version [verse 1] My lover′s got elegance He’s the silence at a ritual Knows everybody′s disapproval I should've worshipped her sooner If my mind ever did speak He’s the last true mouthpiece Every judgment is getting more bleak A poison that leaves me so weak "Sick in the same abyss," I heard them say it My Law offers no absolutes He tells me, "Worship your true nature" The only freedom I’ll be led to Is when I’m alone with you It's a crime, but I love him. Command me to become. A-, amen Amen, amen [chorus] Take me to church I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your design I'll tell you my sins, and you can sharpen your knife Offer me that deathless death Oh, good God, let me give you my life [verse 2] If I'm a pagan of the dark times My lover's the shadow To keep the monster on my side He demands a sacrifice Break the whole teacup Watch the clock twisting Something meaty for the main course That’s a fine looking high horse What do they hide behind their badges? The empty world of the rude ones That looks tasty, that looks plenty This is hungry work [chorus] Take me to church I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your design I'll tell you my sins, and you can sharpen your knife Offer me that deathless death Oh, good God, let me give you my life [Bridge] No judge or criminal when the ritual begins There is no sweeter innocence than our bloody sin In the madness and blood of that sad, shattered scene Only then, I am human Only then, I am clean Oh, oh Amen, amen, amen [chorus] Take me to church I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your design I'll tell you my sins, and you can sharpen your knife Offer me that deathless death Oh, good God, let me give you my life
