Category Archives: Spiritual Development

Personal Development, Religion, Spiritual Development, Witchcraft

#ChangingPathsChallenge2024: Dreams

Leave a comment

Change starts with a dream. Some notion. Some fleeting idea of something we’d like to see. Something that inspires us and draws our interest.

Over time, that dream starts to take a more concrete shape. We add more details. We flesh it out. In time, that dream because a vision we can pour our will into.

We then take that vision and begin to determine how to make it a reality. We start laying out the steps that we can take to bring it about. We look for collaborators and co-conspirators. We transform our vision into a plan.

We then execute that plan. We take the planned actions, re-calibrating and modifying both the plan and our actions as needed. Eventually, our plan and our execution of it leads us to the realization of that dream. We have altered reality itself and built something we can be proud of.

But it all started from that dream. Without dreams, nothing would change. Without dreams, would we even be truly alive?

(This post is part of the #ChangingPathsChallenge2024. See Yvonne Aburrow’s post for more information about the challenge.)

Paganism, Personal Development, Religion, Spiritual Development

#changingpathschallenge2024: Change

Leave a comment

I have a complicated relationship with Odin. When I started looking to build a relationship with various Norse gods, I had planned on avoiding Odin altogether. I thought Thor seemed like a much friendlier and jovial sort. And Thor was indeed friendly to me. But one night, he told me he couldn’t stay to talk with me because someone else wanted a word.

And after a beautiful moment of being transformed into a falcon1 by Freyja and an exhilarating flight over a gorgeous canyon, I found myself in the throne room of the Al.father himself, who accused me of avoiding him.. I had been caught red handed and called out. Odin and I had a brief conversation in which he explained to me why i needed the gifts and lessons he wanted to teach me. I saw the wisdom in his arguments and agreed — albeit somewhat reluctantly — to work with him.

Odin has never been a huge part of my life. But he comes around every now and then. And the thing is, life gets interesting whenever he does. Because in my experience Odin usually brings change with him. There got to be a point in my life where I would sense his presence anew in my life and would immediate want to scream, “What now, fucker?!”2

Change is never easy, nor is it comfortable. I recall reading somewhere that all change is stressful and even traumatic, even positive change. And while the changes that Odin brought and asked me to undergo were always a net benefit for me, I didn’t always like going through the process of change.

That’s normal, and sometimes the only way to endure it is to remember that change is vital to life. One of the defining characteristics of living things is that they grow, and growth always means change. I’ve also heard it suggested that if you are not growing, you’re dying (which is typically a much less pleasant form of change in its own right) or already dead.

As someone who wants to go on living — and hopefully living well — I’ve come to accept change. Even with all its discomfort and messiness. So after I’ve sighed and groused about Odin coming around with more change, I usually let out a breath and say, “Okay, bring it on, fucker. Let’s do this.”

(This post is a part of the #changingpathschallenge2024. See Yvonne Aburrow’s post for more information on the challenge and a list of keywords/prompts for it.)

Footnotes

  1. If it’s not obvious, I’m talking about things that I envisioned/experienced while in an altered state of conscience. I’m not claiming that I literally shape-shifted. ↩︎
  2. Yes, I occasionally swear at my deities. We have that kind of relationship. ↩︎
Paganism, Religion, Spiritual Development, Witchcraft

Different groups, different purposes: Free-styling it for chapter 9 of “Changing Paths”

Leave a comment

Back in the early 2000s, I had an online friend who was a member of a Unitarian Universalist church and an extremely active member in that church’s Covenant of Unitarian Universalist Pagans (CUUPS) group. As I didn’t have much of a Pagan community at that time, I decided to look up my local (at the time) UU church and check them out. They had no CUUPS group, but I decided to check out a couple Sunday morning services.

I met some delightful people at that church and enjoyed talking with them. I found we shared a lot of values in common. i found the same thing when I decided to check out the UU church in Rochester when I moved up here. At both churches, I concluded that the people I met were amazing people I could sit down and have a great conversation with over coffee and even join with to work towards political causes we shared in common. But the services at those churches did not speak to my soul. So in both cases, I quite going after a couple of Sundays.1

These memories and other like it came to mind as I was reading chapter nine of Changing Paths by Yvonne Aburrow, which is titled “Arriving in a group.” In this chapter, Yvonne talks a lot about the importance of finding a group that shares your values. And I absolutely agree that shared values is absolutely important. I don’t think that I could stay in a group where I had an awesome spiritual experience, but found their values morally concerning. So checking out the values of a group first makes absolute sense.2

And if I’m looking for a group that’s mostly inclined toward social, educational, or advocacy purposes, shared values might remain the only thing I care about. But if I’m looking for something more spiritually fulfilling, I feel there are more things I need to have. For example, I need ritual that’s steeped in the mythology and cosmology that speaks to my soul. Similarly, I need a group that explores the mysteries and the aspects of the numinous that I feel called to explore.3 I may love the people in both of those UU churches and share their values, but we clearly speak different spiritual languages, making communal worship with them less than ideal for me. And that’s okay.

And this is where I note that it’s important to consider that we’re allowed to have more than one group membership, just like it’s possible to follow multiple religious traditions in some cases. Even if I were to limit myself to just Pagan groups, I think this is pretty normal, reasonable, and even arguably expected. For example, I can attend both my local witch’s meetup and have coven with whose members I’m more closely knit. And obviously, my level of commitment to each of those groups would differ based on the reasons I’m a part of them and the level of commitment required to be a contributing member of them.4

Footnotes

  1. Okay, full disclosure time: When I went to the church in Rochester, I was motivated by more than just wanting to find a new spiritually minded group. There was a guy involved. And how things turned out with that guy probably also played a part in why I quit going. Though I’d like to think that if I had found the services spiritually fulfilling, I would have kept going regardless. ↩︎
  2. And lest this post come across as being too critical of this chapter of Yvonne, I will note that the title is “Arriving in a group.” Yvonne dedicates chapter 13 to beloved community and finding that. So one could reasonably argue that I’m jumping the gun here and should save these thoughts for that chapter. To which I say, “Maybe, but that’s not what I decided to do.” So nyah! (I never said I was mature.) ↩︎
  3. Also, a service that is centered around sitting and listening to a sermon or lecture just doesn’t really work for me. Even when I might agree with the sermon. ↩︎
  4. The idea that different groups require different levels of commitment is something Yvonne covers in this chapter as well. In fact, they encourage people to consider the commitment level required by any group they are considering joining and whether they are able and willing to meet it. ↩︎
Religion, Society, Spiritual Development

#changingpathschallenge2024: Reconnecting

Leave a comment

Most days, it feels like our modern society is designed to disconnect us from everything.

  • It disconnects us from other people.
  • It disconnects us from our heritage.
  • It disconnects us from our own bodies.
  • It disconnects us from our emotions.
  • It disconnects us from the rest of the animal kingdom.

Is it any wonder we often feel lonely and isolated? We desperately need to get reconnected to these things. For me, my spirituality plays a significant role in that reconnecting process. I often say that my religion is a celebration of life, and reconnecting ourselves to these various things we’ve allowed ourselves to become unplugged from is a part of that celebration. It’s also an important part of maintaining and enhancing that life.

  • Reconnecting to other people and forming a community provides us with support.
  • Reconnecting to our heritage (in as much as is possible) allows us to better understand who we are and how we’ve become that person.
  • Reconnecting to our bodies enables us to live fuller lives rather than feeling like brains trapped in a meat suit.
  • Reconnecting to our emotions allows us to feel fully human again rather than unfeeling automatons.
  • Reconnecting to other living things helps us understand our place in the world over all and is an important step in connecting with the numinous.

That’s a lot of reconnecting to do. And I think the process of reconnecting to everything is a lifetime process. Maybe even a process that spans several lifetimes. But I also think doing so is well worth it.

(This blog post is part of the #changingpathschallenge2024. Be sure to read Yvonne Aburrow’s post to learn more details about the challenge.)

Politics, Religion, Society, Spiritual Development

#changingpathschallenge2024: Peace

Leave a comment

True peace is not merely the absence of tension; it is the presence of justice.

Source: Martin Luther King, Jr., Stride Toward Freedom: The Montgomery Story

Dr. King was a brilliant man and downright prophetic. He had quite a few things to say about peace and justice, though the above quote is probably my favorite commentary that he offered on the subject.1

I hope that Dr. King and those who most directly benefited from his legacy can forgive me for using his quote as a starting point for my post. I will try my best to make sure that my own thoughts. if not worthy of following his words, at least do them no disservice or injustice.

With this quote and elsewhere, King wisely notes that a peace that is not rooted in justice — and an all-inclusive justice that applies to all — cannot last. In effect, true and lasting peace is the result of justice. So if we want peace, we must seek justice.

And yet, I might suggest that some semblance of peace is necessary for the pursuit of justice. Not a false peace, but some small island of inner peace that provides us a firm foundation from which to plan and work. I’m reminded of the the 1997 movie Wishmaster,2 In that movie, Tammy Lauren’s character talks to the basketball team she’s coaching about stillness, and speaks of an inner stillness that will help them to makes baskets if they can find it in the moment before attempting to score. This advice returns to help Lauren’s character in the climactic moment as she calms her mind in order to find the perfect wish that undoes all the harm caused by the djinn she accidentally released and traps the creature once again.

I also think that both peace and justice are not necessarily static states but involve and require an ongoing process. It is something that we will always need to strive toward as circumstances and needs arise and our own understanding of these things change. So let us continue to strive for both justice and peace, building on whatever islands of peace we and those before us have already established.

(This post is part of the #changingpathschallenge2024. See Yvonne Aburrow’s post about the challenge for more details.)

Footnotes

  1. I will note that I’m more familiar with this sentiment as Dr. King expressed it in his Letter from a BIrmingham Jail, which I’ve taken to reading every MLK Day as part of my personal process of self-examination. In that letter, he criticized white moderates, rightly accusing them of preferring “a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice.” ↩︎
  2. Back in college and when I was still a Christian, I was plannings to become a minister. I think this post and others like it demonstrate that had I continued down that path, i would have been one of those ministers who liberally peppered my sermons with pop culture references and sermon illustrations. ↩︎
Religion, Spiritual Development, Witchcraft

Covens as a model for small groups?

2 Comments

A little over a week ago, Meghan Crozier offered the following cheeky comment1 over on Twitter:

https://twitter.com/thepursuinglife/status/1784019830280163693

While Meghan’s tweet was cheeky, a lot of us in the deconstruction community tend to have complicated feelings about small groups as we experienced them within the evangelical church (and possibly in other related authoritarian religious settings). Such small groups can often be another mechanism of control over members of the church and religion. They can also force a sense of intimacy between members of the group that they are not ready for and may not feel safe with.

And yet, as always, I’m the kind of person who is not ready to just throw the baby out with the bathwater2 and when I typed up my own response to Meghan’s tweet I came to a realization: In witchcraft, covens are more or less small groups.3

Granted, there are a lot of witches and other Pagans that don’t like the thought of being in a coven. And I do have to wonder how many of them feel that way because they’re applying their baggage from past experiences in Christian churches to their perception of covens. But neither covens nor small groups have to be for everyone.

At its core, a coven is simply a small group of witches that get together to collectively work magic, explore whatever spiritual mysteries they might embrace, and serve any powers they might believe in. Also, coven members also meet together to learn and develop their witchcraft practice together. To my mind, this mirrors my experiences in church/Christian small groups.4

Personally, my experience with covens has been greatly positive, and think that kind of comradery comes with great benefits. I also think that there are a few key features of covens that typically prevent them from having the same problems as church/Christian small groups.5

The biggest difference is that the evangelical church (and similar churches) tends to be quite authoritarian in structure and outlook, and that tends to get replicated in their small groups as a matter of course. Such small groups have leaders that tend to be able to exert a certain amount of influence and power over the other members of the group. Then the group itself is typically under the authority of the pastor (and other members of leadership) of the church itself. In most churches, a pastor or the elders can pressure small group leader about how they run the group and even disband the group altogether.6

Covens tend to be far more autonomous. Indeed, most covens are an island unto themselves. Even in an initiatory tradition like Alexandrian Wicca, once a Witch7 is elevated to the third degree and establishes their own coven, that Witch is free to run that coven independently.8

Similarly, individual coven members are given the autonomy to stay or leave as they please. So even if a coven leader has ultimate authority on coven matters (and they often do), members who don’t like the direction being taken are free to “vote with their feet” and leave.9 Typically, since a coven with no members ceases to exist, this leads most coven leaders to at least listen to other members’ input and seek out ways to keep them around. (Though there is such a thing as a coven and an individual not being a good fit, and parting ways really is the best and only option.)

In my experience, the way that intimacy and vulnerability is encouraged and developed tends to be different between church small groups and covens. Many church small groups feel to me like they force the members to become vulnerable to and intimate with the rest of the group. The moment you join such a small group, it’s expected — and those expectations are often explicitly stated — that you will start sharing deeply personal details about yourself, experiences you’ve, and even “sins” you’re “struggling with.” This is a level of intimacy and vulnerability that could be weaponized against you (and many have experienced exactly that) and you’re expected to submit to it before there’s been any effort to build any assurance that it won’t be.

Covens also tend to require a similar level of intimacy and vulnerability,10 but much more time is typically spent building up the sense of trust and safety between members before then. To illustrate what I’m saying here, I want to talk about my own past a bit.

Back in the 2000s, I joined a Yahoo Group where initiates and seekers discussed British Traditional Wicca. I had learned about non-initiatory (“eclectic”) Wicca and had decided it wasn’t for me. At that time, I had also discounted initiatory Wicca, assuming it was basically the same thing. As I joined the list, I learned that the assumption was incorrect and found out that in many ways, the Wicca the initiates and elders of the group discussed seemed far more similar to the kind of witchcraft I practiced. So I became a fairly involved member of the group, posed questions, and even shared my own thoughts. As a result, I ended up making friends with a number of members in the group.

One of the people I made friends with was an Alexandrian High Priestess who was living in the province of Ontario in Canada. We began to exchange emails outside of the group and after about a year, she invited me to a public Pagan event in Ontario. I accepted and had a great time, not least of which because I got to finally meet a Witch I had come to admire and respect.

After that first in-person meeting, we continued to converse via emails and I think we even met in person in public a couple more times. Eventually, though, she invited me to come visit her and her husband at her home and even spend a weekend with them. I accepted and made the six hour trek on the appointed Friday. While there, I met her husband, and a couple of members of both her coven and her outer court. I even had the opportunity to attend one of her outer court rites, which was a deeply moving experience.

It was during this trip that we discussed the possibility of me training with and eventually becoming an initiate in her coven.11 Note that it took one to two years to even get to that first conversation. During that time, we had talked frequently, met a few times, and had already started building a relationship. And while the idea of joining an Alexandrian coven was still scary, I felt that if I was going to join one, this was the one I’d probably be able to trust.

And my would-be High Priestess was okay with my trepidation. She expected it. She did not chide me for it, but took it in stride. At one point during that weekend, the topic of ritual nudity came up once. Like most people, the thought of being naked around other people made me uncomfortable. She acknowledged that and simply said that it’s something we could work on in time if I wanted to pursue membership in her coven.12

I think this slow build-up without a sense of pressure to join, fit in, or become immediately intimate with a small group is vital to healthy small group dynamics.

I’d be interested to hear what thoughts my readers have on this topic. Do you think my comparison is a fair one? Do you think there are other ways that covens demonstrate ways to create and maintain a healthy small group? Do you think there are potential pitfalls that are unique to covens? If so, how would you recommend preventing them from arising or mitigating them? Let us know in the comments.

Footnotes

  1. I should note that while that Tweet was cheeky, the thread she was quoting from when making it was quite serious. In that thread, Meghan was talking about one manifestation of the all-too-human tendency for many of us who are deconstructing our white evangelical Christian backgrounds to recreate some of the problematic elements and patterns from those backgrounds in our new spaces and communities. This is a real problem and one that Meghan and Cortland Coffey discuss somewhat frequently, both on social media and in various episodes of the podcast they host together. ↩︎
  2. I daresay that when I left my evangelical faith, I threw out just about every shred of doctrine, but kept a few nuggets of subtle theology, a handful of values I still found useful, a few ideas about community I found helpful, and some spiritual techniques. Not much of it is particularly Christian anymore, but I like to acknowledge where i picked these things up from, as it’s a part of my history. ↩︎
  3. I suspect a similar argument could be made about at least some Heathen kindreds and Druid groves as well. Though both of those are at least theoretically allowed to grow to any size. However, covens are typically expected to be kept rather small. For example, in Wicca, the maximum size for a coven is traditionally set at thirteen members. It’s expected that a coven that grows larger than that will spit into two or more independent (yet related) covens. ↩︎
  4. A lot of my experience with small groups doesn’t come from church, but from my involvement with InterVarsity Christian Fellowship while I was earning my bachelor’s degree. ↩︎
  5. Note that all-important word “typically” in that statement. There are covens and Pagan groups and organizations that are imperfect and absolutely have the same problems as many evangelical (and similar) churches. This is why it’s important to take note if a particular organization, group, or coven doesn’t fit the broad brushstrokes I’m painting with here. If it doesn’t, then what I’m saying will not apply to that particular organization, group, or coven. Also, covens often have their own problems that are different from the problems many of us have with Christian small groups. Those are just beyond the scope of this blog post. ↩︎
  6. Technically, members of a small group would be able to continue meeting without the official blessing of the church. However, given the authoritarian nature of evangelical Christianity (and similar Christianities), I suspect most members would consider this rebellious. Authoritarian followers often feel the need for the approval of the person in authority. It’s one of the things most of us who leave such religious environments need to deconstruct most. ↩︎
  7. While I do not capitalize “witch” in general or when speaking about myself, I am making a conscious effort to do so in this instance. This is because it is a common (though not universal) practice in Wicca to treat “Witch” as a religious term for its members similar to how followers n Christianity are called “Christians” and therefore capitalize it accordingly. ↩︎
  8. There are a few caveats to this. For example, if a coven’s founder starts practicing a different tradition in their coven or changes the practices of the tradition to a degree, the leaders of the coven that taught them may determine that the new coven is no longer practicing the same tradition and not recognize it’s new members/initiates as members of the original tradition. But they cannot stop the leader of the new coven from doing so. Similarly, most new coven leaders tend to seek the advice and guidance of their initiators, appreciating their past experience and wisdom. But again, they are ultimately free to run their own coven as they see fit. At least this is what I’ve learned from the initiatory Wiccans I’ve spoken to. I’m sure if any of them see this and disagree, they’ll be sure to voice their dissent with my assessment. ↩︎
  9. Technically, this option is available to members of Christian small groups as well. However, given the authoritarian nature and claims of exclusivity (i.e. the idea that the very fate of your eternal soul depends on belonging to that particular religion and possibly even that particular church), the thought of just leaving becomes much scarier than it is for a witch, most of whom know they will not suffer for eternity if they’re not part of any coven, let alone a particular coven. ↩︎
  10. I’ll note that witches don’t seem to be as obsessed with “sin” or moral failings though. Our tendency in with regards to moral failings is to take an attitude of, “I messed up. I need to do what I can to clean up after myself and learn from it so I do better in the future.” So conversations within a coven or other group of witches about such things is going to be more focused on asking for advice or assistance in cleaning up with oneself rather than endless self-recrimination and confessions of guilt and shame. This seems to be a common theme of “bonding” among Christian small groups, however. ↩︎
  11. For a variety of reasons, that never manifested. A huge reason for it was that I simply wasn’t ready to take that kind of plunge at that time. By the time I might have been ready, both of our life circumstances had changed so it was no longer an option. I still think of her regularly and often feel a deep sadness that I’ve lost contact with her since then. I’ve made efforts to find her again, but to no avail. I hope you’re doing well, C, wherever you are. (I don’t want to mention her name, as I feel weird doing so, as if I’m name-dropping.) ↩︎
  12. I’ll also note that she had acknowledged me as a fellow witch worthy of respect long before this point. I simply was a different kind of witch. She was simply offering me an invitation to join her family and learn her tradition alongside my current witchcraft practices. I think that a lot of people mistakenly assume that British Traditional Wiccans don’t think the rest of us are “real witches,” but that hasn’t been my experience at all. ↩︎
Memories, Religion, Sexuality, Spiritual Development

Should I stay or should I go? Exploring a journal prompt from chapter 2 of “Changing Paths”

1 Comment

[Content Warning: Mentions of suicidal ideation, religion trauma,]

Hello dear readers! It’s Friday morning so that means once again exploring a journal prompt from the wonderful book, Changing Paths by non-binary witch Yvonne Aburrow. This week’s prompt comes from chapter two, which is titled “Leaving Your Religion.”1 Today’s chosen prompt reads as follows:

Imagine yourself staying in your current situation, and fully inhabiting that choice. Fully experience all the emotions involved in that choice. Now imagine yourself leaving your current situation, and fully experience what that choice will be like. What feelings arise from that choice?

For this prompt, I’m going to hop into the wayback machine and share with you how I was feeling around the time I left Christianity, which was in early November 1998. I feel it’ll make for a far more interesting and instructive read that if I tried answering this question about my current religious path.

In the autumn of 1998, I was going through a bunch of emotional turmoil. I had come out as a gay man two and a half years ago and decided to accept that I was gay and that it was okay to pursue a romantic and sexual relationship with another man. I had even entered into such a relationship, which had just ended around this time due to a variety of reasons (which mostly boiled down to it was an unhealthy relationship and I probably wasn’t really ready for a relationship at the time.)

I had left my church in late August of that same year, but I still considered myself a Christian. I was still committed to Jesus, and thought he was the only way to heaven, though I was struggling with the thought that God would send some of my friends who I had recently come to rely on for support (I’ll talk more about them in a little bit) to hell just for not believing in Jesus.

I was also dealing with the religious trauma of growing up gay in a religious environment that told me gay people were bad little sinners who made God sad and/or angry as well as the emotional results of repressing my feelings for roughly a decade.2

I was also dealing with a lot of guilt at the time, and not just about being gay.3 I grew up in a church that really pushed the whole theology about people being sinners and unable to do anything for themselves about their retched state. So I had some serious self-esteem issues over my lack of perfection. So the fact that i had just watched my first relationship explode and watched the dissolution of dear friendship at the time — both of which I was largely responsible for — left me feeling extremely guilty and worthless. I also felt a great deal of guilt over the dissolution of my relationship because I was still operating under purity culture ideals, which told me that I should only ever have sex with one person (even if it was another guy), who would then be my lifetime partner. So I had failed in a great way in my mind and considered it a great moral failing.

This led to my second crisis and I realized that my feelings were slowly leading me to self-destruction. It became obvious to me that If I remained with the religion I was brought up, i wasn’t going to survive. So for the second time in my life, I chose survival over my religious indoctrination. I started looking at other religions.

So I found a religious tradition that saw me as inherently valuable rather than retched and in need of grace. I found a religion that looked at my flaws and told me that sure, I was flawed, but I could be so much better. Not only that, this new religion provided me motivation and the sense that such self-improvement was worthwhile rather than a hopelessly Sisyphean task.

As a result, I felt valued4 and hopeful. I felt freedom. I knew that this change was the right one for me. And I’ve never regretted it, no matter how difficult the transition and subsequent journey became.

Footnotes

  1. I would note that this chapter is not about how to leave your religion, but provides insights into the kinds of questions and ideas you might want to explore when trying to decide if it’s time to leave. It’s entirely possible you could read this chapter and come to the conclusion that you want to stick it out instead. ↩︎
  2. At one point, I realized that I did not emotionally feel like I was 24, which was my biological age at the time. When I considered how old I felt, I realized that I seemed to be emotionally fourteen trying to live in the adult world. I’m not sure when exactly it happened, but I’m glad my emotional development eventually caught up with my body. I now fully feel like a guy about to turn fifty. (How I feel about being about to turn fifty is a whole other conversation.) ↩︎
  3. To be honest, being gay was the one thing I didn’t feel guilty about. My coming out experience two and a half years prior had been its own crisis that almost did not end well. As a result, I don’t think I’ve ever looked back and wondered “what if I was right the first time and my feelings toward other guys are sinful. I will note, however, that there were other issues surrounding my sexuality. For example, see my reaction to the dissolution of my first relationship, which is describe later in this post. ↩︎
  4. There’s a reason one of my favorite personal slogans is “Jesus loved me. Freyja taught me to love myself.” ↩︎
Paganism, Religion, Spiritual Development, Witchcraft

Learning to love liturgy

Leave a comment

In my previous post, I talked about how I love liturgical elements in ritual. This was not always the case. I was raised in an American Baptist church, and Baptists have historically not been huge fans of liturgy. Well, at least not by that name.1

I grew up thinking of something stodgy and unnecessary that Catholics2 do. To be honest, it seemed kind of stodgy and overly complicated. When I got to college and got involved in the more spontaneous worship of the charismatic church a cafeteria worker introduced me to, that opinion only grew worse. In fact, at that point, I started seeing the Baptist churches services of my childhood and teenage years equally stodgy and boring.3

Once I started getting into Paganism, my understanding of liturgy began to change and I started to gain an appreciation for liturgy. I think the firs step in that journey began when I started trying to write about the concept of mystery in Wicca. This was at a time when I was exploring non-initiatory Wicca and remember Scott Cunningham talking about mysteries and mystery traditions in his book. At least I think it was Cunningham where I first encountered the concept.

To help crystalize the concept in my head — and because I was already starting to develop a desire to explain concepts in my new spiritual tradition to others.4 So I decided to do this by writing an article5 in which I described Christian baptism as a mystery rite. I quoted the passage in which Paul describes baptism as symbolic of “dying and rising again with Christ” and suggested ways in which the rite of baptism might be performed to really drive that symbolism home in an experiential way.

At some point, i decided to share the article with a friend who was studying to be an Orthodox priest. He smiled and pointed out to me that I had unwittingly described the way the Orthodox church views the rite of baptism. He also mentioned that in the Orthodox church, the sacraments are often referred to as mysteries.6

Around the same time, I also started exploring other Pagan traditions as I was starting to realize that non-initiatory Wicca wasn’t really for me.7 One of the first organizations I checked out was Ar nDraiocht Fein, a Druid organization founded by Isaac Bonewits. I started working my way through the organizations Dedicant Program. I particularly spent a lot of time learning about the ADF8 ritual structure. I came to understand the purpose of each part of the rite and started to learn that liturgical elements had deep meaning to be explored and experienced. And I could appreciate how my Christian friends who came from Episcopalian and Catholic backgrounds had liturgies that offered that same sense of deeper meaning.

And while I joke about Baptists having liturgy by a different name, I do question the accuracy of that joke. While there was a structure to church services I attended as a kid, that structure seemed utterly devoid of symbolism or meaning. It seems to me that a proper liturgy needs more to it than letting you know when you’re going to sing a song, read from the Bible, collect the weekly offering, and so on.

I feel like my spiritual life has been greatly improved by gaining an appreciation and desire for some liturgy. How about you? Has your perspective on liturgy changed over time? If so, how? Let me know in the comments.

Footnotes

  1. Christian blogger Fred Clark once pointed out that Baptists have some sense of structure to their worship services, but prefer to refer to it by terms like “the order of worship” rather than “liturgy.” ↩︎
  2. Growing up, I didn’t have nearly the exposure to or understanding of the various Christian traditions that I do today. I did not realize that Episcopalians — who I only knew existed because my family drove past an Episcopal church on the way to our own church every Sunday — were similarly liturgical in their practice. ↩︎
  3. Okay, that’s not entirely accurate. I always found the church services of my first church stodgy and boring. I just discovered church services didn’t have to be stodgy and boring when I started going to the charismatic church. ↩︎
  4. Have I ever mentioned that I wanted to be a minister when I was a young Christian? That desire to teach and help others survived the conversion process. In those early years, that was occasionally to my detriment, as I would occasionally think I knew more than I did. At the same time, I also got frequently frustrated at knowing I went to be a “Christian since I measured my age with single digits who had all the answers” to starting over from square one. Ah, the joys of realizing you really are a mediocre white man and not liking it. ↩︎
  5. Alas, my attempts to find a copy in recent years have failed so far. It’s a shame because as I recall, it was a pretty good article. But I think I wrote it for one of the online diary communities I was on and my accounts on those sites are long gone. ↩︎
  6. My friend also shared my article with his bishop at the time. He said the bishop responded by announcing that “I was Orthodox and just didn’t know it yet.” At the time, i was kind of flattered. As I’ve grown over the past decade or two, I still find the comment somewhat flattering, but also roll my eyes at the inherent Christian supremacy of it. ↩︎
  7. Years later, I encountered initiatory Wicca and explored that as well. I found it much more appealing and feel like there is a certain kinship between it and my own witchcraft practice. However, I never became a Wiccan initiate for a variety of reasons. I’ve recently considered whether I’d like to pursue that again. It’s an appealing thought, but I’ve also realized that my life circumstances just don’t make it a good choice. But I reserve the right to revisit that decision periodically. ↩︎
  8. To me, “ADF” will always stand for the Druid organization and not the Christian supremacist legal advocacy and training group (and SPLC-designated hate group) whose names also use the same initials. ↩︎
Paganism, Religion, Spiritual Development, Witchcraft

Ritual style preferences: Exploring a journal prompt from chapter 1 of “Changing Paths”

1 Comment

Earlier this week, I decided to start reading Changing Paths by Wiccan author Yvonne Aburrow. I’ve decided that as part of my effort to get back into blogging, I’m going to take one or more journal prompt Yvonne asks at the end of each chapter every Friday and blog about it here. This week, I’ll be covering a blog prompt from chapter 1, which is titled “What is Religion?” Here’s the prompt I chose:

What type of ritual do you prefer? Formal or informal, structured or spontaneous? Are you drawn to liturgical, celebratory, or magical styles of ritual?

To explore this question, it’s helpful to briefly summarize the types of styles of ritual Yvonne mentions and what they’re characterized:

  • Liturgical rituals are communal rites that are often structured and formalized. Yvonne suggests that they are designed to “avoid outbursts of emotion or spontaneity.
  • Celebratory rituals tend to be informal and involved elements of spontaneity. They note that these tend to be intended to release or unleash power.
  • Magical rituals involve wielding power and directing it toward a desired end.
  • Ceremonial rituals are those in which power is honored and existing power structures are maintained.

As I think of these styles, I find all four styles — or at least elements from them — appealing. I certainly like the familiarity of certain liturgical elements whose symbolism and meanings I can fall upon. Yet I’m not big on “avoiding outbursts of emotion” or embracing a total lack of spontaneity. So I prefer repeating a ritual structure that has been carefully thought out and contains deep meaning for me, yet leaves space for moments from the heart and the interjection of Divine (or human) ecstasy into a particular rite as well.

Of course, it’s no surprise that I like magical rites. After all, magic and witchcraft goes hand in hand (especially if a witch like me who thinks that the very process of connecting with the Divine and/or other people is magical in itself). I also feel that the magical aspect of ritual is what moves me from a mere participant or servant of the Divine to a co-creator with other humans and event he Divine themselves.

Possibly the least ritual style I’m interested in is ceremonial ritual. I’m not a fan of honoring power and maintaining existing power structures. Perhaps it’s just the connotations I personally have with the phrasing Yvonne for it, but the description of ceremonial ritual screams authoritarianism and I tend to be staunchly anti-authoritarian.

And yet, I want to pause and explore my assumptions in my assessment. After all, there are structures that I do think are worth preserving and even necessary. The thing is, I think those structures aren’t authoritarian. And I realize that the idea of non-authoritarian and non-authoritarian structures often feels like an oxymoron, but I do think they exist. We just tend to refer to them by other terms, like “networks” and “communities.”

So could there be a ceremonial ritual that celebrates community and mutual commitment and is designed to strengthen community ties and bonds behind people. Or to put it in terms of Heathen practice, would a Sumble focused primarily and building bonds n the community be seen as ceremonial? Or would it fall under a different style? I’d love to hear people’s thoughts in the comments.

Magic/Magick, Religion, Spiritual Development

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

2 Comments

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.