Thoughts on a podcast interview I gave bout death and grief in Paganism

This morning, Kim Evans-Handy, aka The Mocha Widow, released the episode of her Grief Unleashed podcast where she interviewed me to get a Norse Pagan perspective about death, what might happen after we die, and the grieving process for surviving loved ones. I’d encourage you to check it out.

I greatly appreciate Kim for giving me the opportunity to share my thoughts on this subject. (Also, I’d be remiss if I didn’t give a shout-out to Mandy Capehart for making me aware of this opportunity and putting me in touch with Kim.) Kim was a delight to speak with, a great listener, and asked probing questions.

Overall, I’m extremely happy with the interview and the things I’ve said. However, as someone who sees life as an opportunity to constantly grow and improve, there are things I might have said or done differently in retrospect. For example, I might have cut the tangent about initiatory WIcca and what initiation is much shorter. I had originally only brought up the existence of the two “flavors” of Wicca because I was talking about reincarnation and wanted to point out that my own understanding of reincarnation (as near as I can tell as a non-initiate) tends to coincide more closely to the views of practitioners of initiatory of Wicca rather than those held by those practice non-initiatory Wicca. But Kim asked for a little details on what initiation was like (which would be a better question for those who have actually gone through it than me) and the rabbit that is my mind was off like a shot.

Similarly, I wish I would have taken more time to talk about the more common Norse Pagan view of the afterlife, involving people residing with one of the various Norse deities (with Odin in Valhalla or with Hel1 in her home are the two most commonly known possibilities.)

Shortly after I gave this interview on March 3, I found Essential Asatru in the Kindle Unlimited library and read it. The author, Diana L. Paxson spends a significant amount of time talking about the importance of honoring the ancestors in Asatru, and I wish I had thought to mention that as well during my interview. After all, some Heathens/Norse Pagans even believe it is possible to communicate with ancestors and even seek wisdom from them (which seems to be a pretty common view among many religions and cultures, to be honest). This seems pretty relevant to the topic we were discussing. But this is the problem one faces when one has a lot they can talk about an a limited amount of time to talk. If I had said everything I could possibly say, there’s a chance we’d still be recording.

As I said, I think it was a fantastic interview overall and I hope people find value in it. I just think that if I were to do it again, I might try to find ways to cut the parts where I was educating the audience about Paganism in general a little shorter and made more time to cover death and grief and Pagan perspectives on it. After all, that was the central theme of the interview and what was most aligned with the podcast’s intent.

Notes:

1In Essential Asatru, (which I mention in this post a little further down) Diana Paxson notes that some Asatru do believe in some sort of reincarnation and that certain readings of the lore support such a belief. So my tendency toward believing in reincarnation doesn’t make me a total outlier Heathens/Norse Pagans after all.

My Contribution to the OcculTea Conversation – Topc 4: Capitalising Off Community

The fourth and final topic for the #OcculTea conversation is “Capitalising Off Community.” In this blog post, I will offer my thoughts on the prompt questions provided.

Do I consider online communities as equally valid to in-person communities?

I want to start my answer to this question with the obvious disclaimer that this is my personal opinion. For me, online community and in-person community serve overlapping but distinct purposes. Primarily, I see networking and sharing ideas as something that I seek in both online and in-person communities. However, when it come time to actually work magic and honor my gods communally, I personally prefer to do that in person. So for me personally, both types of community are valid, despite serving different purposes for me.

Having said that, I recognize that other have found ways to work magic and/or honor their gods through online community. As I am a strong believer in “not yucking other people’s yum,” I honor that those people have found a way to do so meaningfully.

How have online occult/witchcraft communities impacted me as a person & practitioner?

Personally, I think online occult/witchcraft communities impacted me more when I was first starting back out. You know, back in the dark ages when we had to use Yahoo Groups and web-based message boards because no one had invented Facebook, Twitter, or any of the other social media sites. At the time, I was still living in a rural part of Pennsylvania and I didnd’t know many witches, occultists, or Pagans near me. So I relied on the Internet to meet like minded people, discuss the things I was learning and the thoughts they inspired, and feel note quite so alone.

Today, I think I still benefit greatly from making connections with others online and getting exposed to a much broader array of ideas and views than I might find in my local community alone. So there’s still the same benefit, but I don’t think I need it quite so critically as I did twenty or so years ago.

What are some of the dangers of the current phenomenon of capitalising off the witchcraft community? Have I been personally affected by this, or have I witnessed someone else be affected?

I think one of my biggest concerns is that there seems to be a lot of consumerism in many parts of the online witchcraft community. Or maybe it’s just the parts I’m mostly exposed to. One of my constant concerns is that newer witches or would-be witches might be left with the impression that being a witch must be expensive by it’s very nature. I think this would be a great tragedy, because we don’t need that kind of classism in witchcraft.

I also want to note that this is not a problem unique to online witchcraft communities. I know people who have been left with a sense that they need to buy a lot of “stuff” to practice witchcraft due to interactions with in-person communities as well. I think the only problem with online communities is that it’s easier to spread that misconception much more broadly online, thereby discouraging more new or future witches.

Should there be paywalled communities and online courses?

Have I mentioned lately that I loathe yes/no questions? I think most of them rquire an answer that is far more nuanced than a simple “yes” or “no.” And this is absolutely one such question.

I think that developing and maintaining a healthy and helpful community takes a lot of time and effort. Preparing and teaching a course similarly takes time and effort. And I think that people who provide something of value to others deserve to be compensated for their time and effort. Also, in the case of an online community, it costs money to rent or self-host the servers that allow the individual members of the community to connect with one another. It seems reasonable to ask members who benefit from that community to chip in to cover those costs.

Having said all that, I’m also aware that this creates another potential for one’s financial status/class to dictate whether or not you get access to such communities and courses. As a result, how much money a person has to spend can impact the quality of their online witchcraft experience. That’s not something that I’m entirely comfortable with, either.

The best solution for this conundrum that I can currently think of is for those of us who are able to do so to help out those who may not be able to afford access to some of these communities and courses. I’m going to use a recent example from another community I’m a part of to illustrate what I’m talking about here. Earlier this month, two podcasts that talk about deconstructing/leaving evangelical Christianity held an event about purity culture, the issues with it, and positive steps people who have escaped purity culture can take to reform how they think about sex and human sexuality in general. There was a fee to attend this event, but numerous generous people donated money to help pay for people who could not afford the fee to attend the event anyway. In the online witchcraft community, I envisioning doing something similar, even to the point of setting up one or more scholarship funds of a sort. This is not a perfect solution, as even such scholarships probably wouldn’t be sufficiently funded to pay for everyone who needs the financial help.

Fortunately, I suspect there will also be those people who provide information, and opportunities to both learn and connect at no expense. As i said, this isn’t a perfect solution, but I will not let the perfect be the enemy of good.

How does one ensure the authenticity of courses/workshops/memberships/etc. as a financial investment?

I think the problem of ensuring whether a particular course, workshop, or community is authentic is a problem regardless of whether there’s money involved. It might get more complicated if you’re considering which courses, workshops, or communities to sign up for when you have a limited amount of funds to pay for them. Even so, I think the answer remains the same. Individuals will need to research the presenter/community organizer and what they are offering and determine whether they find the information/community trustworthy and worth the asking price.

My Contribution to the OcculTea Conversation – Topic 3: Imposter Syndrome and FOMO

The third topic for the #OcculTea discussion is Imposter Syndrome and FOMO. I had to look up what FOMO stood for. so let me save any reader from having to do the same thing: “Fear Of Missing Out.” I want to start this post by pointing out a post I wrote on Tumblr back in October about my own existential crisis over trying to be a content creator. I think that many of the things I talk about there fit well with this discussion. I will likely refer to some of the same themes as I address the prompt questions for this topic.

When I follow other creators in the community space, does it make me feel genuinely inspired and empowered or does it create feelings of FOMO and being less than?

I feel both inspired and intimidated when I look at what other creators are doing and saying online. I’m inspired as it makes me want to work harder and develop my own practice more deeply. At the same time, I find myself wondering if I really have anything to offer as a creator. And I wonder how some of you manage to come up with things to say/write every day. I just don’t feel that chatty.

Of course, some creators I follow aren’t doing the kinds of things I want to do anyway. I follow a lot of people who talk about how they practice witchcraft and even offer a lot of how-to advice and guidance. Personally, that’s just not something I want to do. So I can look at those particular creators and not feel intimidated or set off my imposter syndrome simply by acknowledge that we’re doing different things.

It’s mostly when I look at the creators that talk more about magical theory and/or theology that my imposter syndrome tends to activate.

For the most part, no. I need a reason to read a book (or jump off a bridge, for that matter) other than “everyone else is doing it.”

Now having said that, I have considered that I might need to start reading more books again to get further inspiration and ideas of things to talk about. But I’d rather choose those books based on whether they say anything I wish to engage with rather than whether they’re popular.

In this sense, I think I’ve made peace with the fact that I’m never going to be a “big” creator or influencer. I’m simply going down roads that don’t seem to have the draw as others. My issue is more about whether anyone at all is interested in the things I want to explore and talk about (and whether I really have anything original and/or of substance to say about them).

When practising my craft, do I find myself comparing what I do to what I’ve been seeing people do online?

Only in the sense that I often feel like I lack self discipline and consistency. But these re things I struggle with anyway. I think I’d be concerned about regardless of whether I see other people who seem to have much better consistency and self-discipline. it’s just that seeing them makes me more conscientious of my pre-existing concerns, struggles, and insecurities.

In what ways do I combat imposter syndrome?

I try to remind myself that I am my own person and it’s always dangerous to compare myself to others.

What would my practice look like without the social media influence of other creators?

For the most part, I think it would look exactly as it does now. Though some of my ideas may not be as well fleshed out without the ideas of other people to help get me thinking.

My Contribution to the OcculTea Conversation – Topic 2: Influencer Authenticity

Today, I’ll be tackling the prompt questions for OcculTea topic #2, which is Influencer Authenticity. Of course, I’m not sure I’d consider myself an influencer, but authenticity is important to me. So bear in mind that my thoughts on this post will almost certainly Expand beyond authenticity on the parts of influencers. So with that basic introduction and disclaimer out of the way, let’s get on with the questions.

Out of what I share on social media, how much of it is staged vs. reality?

I’m not sure I fully understand this first question and I suspect that I think it’s setting up a bit of a false dichotomy as well. I think that staging something doesn’t necessarily mean it’s not real, though I acknowledge that this is the colloquial understanding of the concept. But to give you a counterexample, consider the time that my local Unitarian Universalist church invite my (eclectic) coven to speak to their middle school kids during religious education. One of the things we were invited to do was to describe our basic ritual to the students and even give a demonstration. That ritual was staged in a sense. And yet, it was legitimately our ritual and I think conducting it in front of that that class had many of the same results as when we performed it at our covenstead the full moon prior to it.

I will note that I generally don’t discuss the specifics of my practice online. (I’ll note that this is something Yvonne Aburrow and I have in common.) I tend to talk more broadly and about much theory. I also like to get into theology. About the only things I have shared about my practice is that I have shared some of the prayers I have written for devotional purposes. And I think reciting those prayers is a willful act filled with meaning whether I do so on or off camera.

Do I think there is an element of censorship in online spaces? How do I decipher what is “appropriate” to share online vs. what to keep privately? Is this based on “social media etiquette” or a personal preference?

Based on the follow-up question, I get the impression we’re primarily talking about self-censorship. I tend to share things that meet the following criteria:

  • I have a basic right to share it (That is, it’s not something I was given in confidence)
  • It is something I feel comfortable and safe sharing
  • I have no ethical qualms about what others might do with it if I share it or how it might impact them

Have I ever encountered or heard of grifters in our community? Do I recognize them? What are significant signs of grifters in the community?

Beyond the “spellcasters” that advertise their services (usually on Quora), I don’t think I have encountered any grifters. There have certainly people I’ve encountered who make me wonder how much I trust what they’re saying, but event hem I’m typically not convinced there’s an intent to deceive or defraud there. I have no doubt such people exist, however.

What tools are helpful to decipher misinformation, and how can we as a community prevent widespread misinformation?

This is one I think we need to take a certain amount of care with. There are plenty of witchcraft traditions and other occult and related practices out there. I’m not an expert on all of them by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, I doubt I’m an expert on any of them! After all, even my own practice continues to develop and evolve over time.

Sometimes, I wonder if people are quick to discount something as “misinformation” when it’s really “something different from what their own tradition teaches.” In that case, I think that we need to be more accurate and say “this is contrary to my own tradition.” And yes, if someone is passing something off as being part of or a teaching of a particular tradition and we know this is false, we need to call that out as misinformation.

For the most part, I think a far more important thing to teach people is to learn to trust themselves, apply critical thinking skill, and figure out what their practice is and looks like. That way they can look at new information and decide whether they find it helpful and consistent with their own practice.

How does a large following impact the perception of the creator? Does this immediately make them an “expert”? Or are there other assumptions as to why they may have a large following?

Personally, I think the size of a creator’s following tells us more about their ability to cultivate a social media presence and following that it does about who they are as a witch or occultist. At most, it might tell us that what they are offering appeals to a lot of people. But again, this goes to my point that there are a lot of practices and traditions out there. A creator may have a witchcraft practice that I or someone else has no interest in for various reasons. I didn’t become a witch to follow the crowd. Though I’ll gladly go with the crowd if they happen to be going in the same direction I’m interested in going too.

How does one maintain the balance of authenticity and content creation?

I struggle with this. It’s probably part of the reason I have trouble creating content on a regular basis.

My Contribution to the OcculTea Discussion – Topic 1: Impact on Community

Yvonne Aburrow over at Dowsing for Divinity made me aware of the OcculTea community discussion regarding witchcraft online, and I naturally decided I had to throw my own pointy hat into the ring. (Who knows, maybe this will be the impetus I need to really get back into blogging or even doing YouTube videos. We’ll see.) As an aside, I’d highly encourage you to check out Yvonne’s own post on this first topic, as they always have interesting things to say.

The first topic and the focus of my blog post is titled “Impact on Community.” The organizers have provided a handy series of prompt questions, which I will spend the rest of this post exploring.

What is my personal reasoning/inspiration behind sharing my practice online? What am I looking to achieve by participating? Do I seek to educate, learn or connect?

I think that my reasons for sharing my practice online include all of those things and possibly more. I want to share information and insights. I want to explore ideas with other people and see what we can come up with together. One of us may have a thought, which might inspire a thought for someone else, and when we share these thoughts, I think that everyone is enriched through the experience.

Even in cases where we may not see eye to eye on certain things, I think that understanding our respective views can help us understand one another and even our own views a bit better.

How do I believe social media, as a whole, has impacted the community?

One positive thing I think it has done is given many of us the ability to connect with like minded people that we may have been isolated from before. Prior to social media and the Internet in general, people were limited to interacting with whatever other witches they could find locally — and some of us lived in places where that was not a large group of people. We often relied on going to large gatherings and conferences — assuming we could afford — to have a few days a few times a year where we didn’t feel quite so alone.

And not to start up the “coven vs. solitary practice” argument again (which I think its a false dichotomy anyway), I think it provided ways for many of us to connect and socialize with one another that didn’t automatically mean we were seeking to worship or work magic together. (Though plenty of people do both of those things online too!)

How do I think social platforms such as TikTok, Instagram, and YouTube have each impacted education/sharing information?

I think such platforms have provided a way to share information and learn things from sources other than books. Not that I have anything against books. But they are not the only way to learn things. And to be honest, I got tired of picking up books that for 80% of the book said the same things the last five books I read said. Paying full price for 20% (at most) new thought and information didn’t seem smart.

I also think videos by nature of their format can be more focused than most books. It can cover a single idea (well, at least the basics) in less than five minutes. To me, that’s getting the 20% of the new information without the repeat information. I like that a lot.

I also think such platforms allow more people to get their ideas out there. It takes a lot of work and skill to write a book and get it published. Anyone can put up a video on YouTube and TikTok. I mean, how hard can it be? I’ve done it. And it’s not just the people who are skilled writers and have 240 pages worth of knowledge to share that have things worth hearing about.

Is consuming witchcraft content becoming a substitute for practice?

Honestly? I think that’s been a problem for a while. I think we as a society have conflated knowing about something with being able to do a thing. I remember someone on the old Yahoo Group Amber And Jet (a group specifically for discussing British Traditional Wicca) talking about the difference between teaching (which typically involves imparting facts) and training (which typically involves walking someone through actually doing something) and how many Seekers need to understand that difference.

So while I think treating the consumption of witchcraft content as a substitute for practice is a concern, I don’t think it’s one that can ultimately be blamed on social media or witchcraft content in general. I think the better question would be what can we online witches do to encourage people to actually start a practice or continue with their current one. I’ll leave that for everyone to discuss in the comments if they’d like.

Thoughts about the first Content Warning Event

Image from the event’s website.

This past weekend, I attended the 2024 Content Warning Event online. This was an event hosted and sponsored by the Thereafter and Go Home Bible You’re Drunk podcasts to discuss purity culture, the various ways it has harmed people, and ways to move beyond it. It was an excellent conference, consisting entirely of panel discussions and the panelists represented a diverse range of sexualities and racial backgrounds.

I loved the fact that the event consisted solely of panel discussions rather than including lectures or presentations given by solo speakers. It made it clear that the goal was dialogue rather than a one-way communication of ideas. Given who authoritarian purity culture and the larger Christian cultures that promote it tend to be, I thought that in itself was a nice act of resistance.

I also appreciated the diversity of topics and perspectives that the event tried to cover. This was not merely a conference about how purity culture demeans sex (which is a true statement) and creates guilt, but one that explored the white supremacy inherent in purity culture, the damage purity culture does to the way people understand their own gender, and how purity culture harms relationship — including non-romantic relationships. One of my favorite moments was when Dr. Tina Schermer Sellers gave her introduction during the first panel discussion and brought up how purity culture harms relationships between parents and children.

Some panel discussions interested me more than others. For example, I was not particularly engaged with the panel discussion about queer inclusion, since that focused primarily on queer inclusion within Christianity and I’m not interested in being included in Christianity. In fact, I appreciated Chrissy Stroop, who facilitated that particular panel discussion, for noting that she was happy to just avoid theology altogether. Chrissy and I differ in that I still enjoy theology, but we both have little use for Christian theology.

(I want to quickly note, that the above is a personal opinion. I understand that many queer folks are Christian and remain to be so. I’m sure they appreciated that particular panel discussion far more than I did. And not everything needs to be nor should be about me.)

While I’m talking about my own religious views, I will note that one thing I would love to see see more diversity of religious thought in the future. The panelists seemed to be mostly Christian, Christian adjacent, or non-religious. And while that probably reflects the demographics of most people who have escaped purity culture pretty well, a bit more representation of those of us who “are still religious, but not Christian anymore” would be nice. Plus I think that exploring the ways that other religions view sex and sexuality would be beneficial for everyone. For example, my own spiritual tradition has a lot to say about sex as sacred and even a religious rite.

Some of my favorite panels were the ones that looked beyond purity culture and talked about building new ways to see sexuality and even think about the morality of sex. These panels included discussions of sex work and porn consumption, non-monogamous relationships and sex, and decolonizing purity culture. I’d love to see more such panels in the future. I think “where do we go from here” is an important question to ask and there are plenty of ways to explore it.

I also appreciated that some panel discussions– most notably the one on decolonization — spoke to issues and ideas beyond purity culture. I think this is important because purity culture doesn’t exist in a vacuum, but is part of a much bigger system. I suspect that the whole system must be tackled and keeping that in mind even when discussing a particular sub-component or constituent part is important.

At the end of the event, they announced that the next event will be held next year over President’s Day weekend in Atlanta Georgia. It’s not clear to me if that one will also be focused on purity culture or if they might cover a (slightly) different topic. Either way, I look forward to it and hope it’s as delightful, uplifting, and educational as this one was.

Let’s talk about that Christian radio host who lost his job for telling a woman to attend her grandson’s wedding to another man.

The following is collected from a series of posts I made on Threads.

I finally decided to read about the Christian radio host who got fired because he talked about telling a woman she should attend her grandson’s wedding to another man. Can we talk about how phenomenally bad he man’s advice was? Before you get too riled up by that assertion, read on.

Yes, the man told the woman she should attend the ceremony. On the face of things, that seems like a good thing. But he only told her to do so after she affirmed that she did not approve and she thought her grandson’s “lifestyle” was sinful. Folks, if that’s your attitude, I don’t WANT you at my wedding. Attending a same sex marriage ceremony only after making it clear you think it’s a terrible thing is NOT loving.

And then you have the man’s reasons for giving the advice. He argues that the grandson is far less likely to “write his grandmother off as judgemental.” Not because she loves her grandson and wants to be there for any major moment in his life. No, simply because not doing so might “hurt her witness,” because that’s apparently the most important thing in this situation.

And to be frank, if you’ve already told me you think my relationship is sinful and wrong in the eyes of your god, I’ve already concluded you’re judgemental and bigoted. Showing up at my wedding after that isn’t going to change my mind. So the radio host’s advice and reasoning for that advice aren’t even liable to pan out.

Finally, what’s really going on here is that the host is banking on the grandson giving in to the societal pressure that “family is important no matter what.” He’s hoping the grandson will bend over backward to see his grandmother in the best possible light. And that’s manipulative.

Musings Leaving Christianity and Still Relating to Christians: Inspired by Trey Ferguson’s book.

The following is a compilation of a Thread I posted. The book I mention can be found here.

So I had a few thoughts while reading Chapter 7 (“We Gotta Have a Talk about Deconstruction”) from @pastortrey05‘s book. It’s the chapter I got this quote from:

“Liberation lies in the community of testimonies. It is not in shouting down the stories of others that we become more whole. It is in putting those stories in conversation. Not debate. Actual conversations for the sake of learning about our neighbors, not convincing nor converting them.”

@pastortrey05, “Theologizin’ Bigger”

Note that this thread is not a direct response @pastortrey05 or specifically what he said. Instead, they are my own thoughts that came up while reading. But I felt that sharing those seemed very in line with the above quote and the book in general, so here we go.

I’m one of the people whose deconstruction (which started before most of us even knew that such a process would become commonly called “deconstruction”) led them out of Christianity completely. And I have to admit, i sometimes wonder why I spend so many books about theology in a religion I don’t follow anymore. But hey, some Christians have some interesting theologies (or theologizin’, if you prefer) that deserve a good look.

So here’s a glimpse into my perspective(s) on my exit from Christianity and my thoughts on the various Christianities out there as someone who has since become a total “outsider.”

I will note that the Christianity I left was specifically white evangelical Christianity. I was raised in an American Baptist (the denomination the SBC split off from) church. I’ll note that my congregation was still pretty conservative for that denomination. So theologically, we were still pretty close to the Southern Baptists.

In college, I got involved in a Full Gospel (basically charismatic or Pentecostal) church. So my journey from being a low-key cessationist to a tongues-speaking spiritual warrior type who did Jericho walks and prayed against literal demons would probably make an interesting thread in its own right. But for now, I just wanted to note that I had some exposure to a small diversity of Christian teachings even within white evangelicalism.

But I definitely stayed within white evangelicalism. Even when I first came out as gay, I spent a couple years trying to remain within my evangelical faith. Basically, I tried to keep everything else while saying it was okay if I dated and had sex with other men. I think a lot of LGBTQIA+ Christians from that background try that route for at least a while, to be honest. Some even seem to stick with it.

(See my criticisms of organizations like The Reformation Project that, in my opinion, merely seek to “the queer wing of the purity culture movement.”)In the long run, I couldn’t do it. In the long run, I realized that the Christianity I was raised in did not allow myself to see myself in a positive light. I decided then that if I wanted to be able to see myself as anything other than slime that relied on the grace of another to “love me in spite of myself,” I had to leave.

I will note that I didn’t know Christians like @josh_a_scott, @pastortrey05, @thequirkypastor back then. Had I known such Christians back then, I might have had access to Christianities that recognized the inherent dignity and worth (what I call the sacredness) of every human being just because each human being existed. I sometimes wonder how my story might differ if I had.

(I’ve similarly wondered how my story might have been different if I’d been surrounded by Jewish friends and acquaintances at that time of my life rather than atheists and Pagans. There’s much about Judaism I find admirable these days as well.)

But instead, I found myself among Wiccans and other Pagans, and that led me to my new and current spiritual home. It led to me to one of my favorite sayings:Jesus loved me. Freyja taught me to love myself.

That statement is central to my story. It’s also the central reason why I will probably be a witch and devotee of Freyja for the rest of my life. You just don’t walk away from that kind of gift. But even so, I can appreciate the stories (and yes, I’m falling into much the same language of @pastortrey05 here) of others who might have found a home in some new (to that person) Christianity.

I find a great deal to admire about how the Christians I mentioned up-thread interpret and share the stories of Jesus and other stories int he Bible. They’re just not MY stories anymore. But I appreciate that I share many values with these Christians even if we might express them through radically different stories.

In closing, I note that I think one of the things I find funny is that the biggest thing I and the Christians I mentioned might disagree with on is actually the nature of the Divine (for example, monotheism and a “Three O compliant” deity just don’t make sense to me anymore). But rather than spending a lot of time arguing over that, we can find shared values and common cause. And that’s something I love.

Musings on worship from a magical/ritual point of view.

A topic that I’ve seen come up in many circles (most recently in a recent Meet and Greet for those of us who attend Gracepointe church services online) is the topic of worship. And a common question seems to be one over whether there is an actual Divine experience there or whether it’s a purely emotional experience. As a witch who has come to greatly appreciate religious and magical ritual alike, I suspect that worship involves — or at least can involve both of those things.

One of the things that I have learned as a witch is the importance of a ritual state of consciousness (and other altered states of consciousness). I’ve also come to understand that well-crafted rituals are designed to create various states of consciousness in the participants. And that includes evoking certain emotions.

I also don’t think that this is a bad thing. Evoking certain emotions and states of consciousness can be very useful and beneficial. (I’ll come back to that in a bit.) It’s okay that the worship music (or other aspects of some other ritual) are carefully selected to have a particular impact on participants, as long as participants are aware of what’s happening and they consent to it.

And I think it’s that if that creates the problem. I think a lot of people go into worship not understanding that they’re essentially participating in an activity that is designed to evoke these things. Instead, they’ve often be encouraged to think of them as something that “just happens” or that it’s a sure sign that their experience is “from God.” In my opinion, that’s dishonest and discourages those people from going into that experience and viewing it afterward through critical analysis and thought. But for those aware that they’re participating in an intentionally constructed experience, I think it can be both beneficial and illuminating.

This doesn’t mean I don’t think there’s no experience of the Divine in such experiences. As a matter of fact, as a witch who is heavily interested in theurgy (loosely defined as magic related to connecting/uniting with the divine1), I think that we go through these rituals that evoke these emotions and states of consciousness to aid and encourage an experience of the Divine. In that moment of emotionalism or ecstasy, we may gain a new insight which may cause us to see things in a new light. Hopefully it causes us to gain a renewed or deepened sense of compassion, a heightened desire to be a champion for justice, or some other positive outcome.2

To me, the important thing is to understand the difference between the intentionally generated emotions and the experience of the Divine (or other spiritual insight) that comes from it. I think far too many people have been encouraged to mistake the former for the latter and even completely ignore the latter altogether. Such people tend to think that the emotional trip is the end goal rather than a means to seek out something deeper. On the flip side, some people who realize that worship (and similar ritual activities) intentionally invokes emotions and respond by throwing the whole practice out altogether. I don’t think that’s necessary to do, though.


1I’m not entirely satisfied with this brief definition of theurgy because I believe we are always united with the Divine. Instead, I think we’re just often unawareness of that fact. So maybe theurgy would better be described as magical acts that raise our awareness of our connection to/union with the Divine.

2I am firmly convinced that the measure of any mystical experience should not be how “real” it is, but what effect it has on you and whether it makes you more inclined to want to make the world a better place.

Musings on sharing and passing on prayer requests on social media.

This blog post is adapted from a Twitter1 thread that I tweeted out on the same topic.

Yesterday, I learned that my mother is in the hospital for COVID. I tweeted the following out to my followers, looking for support:

I would like to note that I specifically directed this message to “friends who…” I would have thought that this would have made it clear that I wasn’t looking for every person who believed in prayer to jump on it.

And yet, three different people who do not follow me and have no followers in common with me decided to retweet my request to their followers. I’m not even sure how any of them found my tweet, to be honest. As I said, I don’t follow me, and I doubt my tweets get promoted, sine I refuse to send Musk any money.

I get it. it’s entirely possible that these people meant well. After all, I think there’s an impulse to get as many people praying as possible. And I think that usually comes from a good place. But as the song goes, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. More on that later.

But I think we as a society also need to balance that impulse against respecting people’s privacy and whether or not they want every prayer they can possibly get. There are probably some people I don’t want praying for my or my mother. Namely people who are going to pray for an outcome I don’t approve of. (My mother’s health crisis is neither your evangelistic opportunity nor a chance to pray for my “salvation.”)

I will note that all three people who retweeted my request are Christians. Not the same kind of Christian, mind you. One seemed like a pretty progressive type. Another was an obvious Christian supremacist. I’d be hard pressed to describe the third one with such certainty, but their bio and tweet history suggested that they were at least inclined toward some degree of Christian supremacy.

Now, I will note that a lot of people I don’t know — including Christians who probably found my prayer request through the overt Christian supremacist — left kind offers of prayer. I appreciated that. But then you have good ol’ Tom, who totally found me through that overt Christian supremacist. Here’s what Tom had to say:2

I would be happy to pray for you, Jarred, AFTER you remove “send positive energy” from your request. If I pray Only God will get the glory.

Because leave it to a Christian supremacist to turn a chance to pray for a sick woman into a religious pissing match.

Now I’d like to think that most people — including multitudes of people who fall somewhere in Christian supremacy — would be horrified by Tom’s behavior. And many of my friends took Tom to task for his behavior. (Much love to you.)

But the Christian supremacist who enabled Tom to find me through his retweet? As of late last night when I checked, he hasn’t said a peep. He hasn’t taken Tom to task. Nor has he expressed any regret for — whether intentionally or not — put me in Tom’s rhetorical crosshairs. For me that’s a problem.

So consider this post a reminder that maybe not every tweet should be retweeted and that maybe we should take more care in considering what the consequences of retweeting something deeply personal and sensitive to other people might be. Even if our hearts are in the right place and just want to make sure that a sick woman and her son get as much prayer as possible. Because remember, I was somewhat specific in who I was directing my prayer request to.


1I will never call it “X.” However, if someone pays me $20 per month, I’ll gladly start referring to it as “Close App Icon.”

2I will not link directly to Tom’s profile or tweet because Tom does not deserve the traffic. Also, I’d just as soon he not find this post through Google search if he’s the type to search his name. (In fairness, I search my name about every six months and don’t think there’s anything inherently wrong with the practice.

The thoughts of a gay witch living in upstate New York.