Tag Archives: cosmology

Polytheology: Finding a relationship between cosmology and morality

NOTE: This series is an exploration of my personal theology, which I tend to hold lightly. It is subject to change as I gain new insights. Also, no one should interpret anything I say as the “one true doctrine.”

I think we’re all familiar with stories about cosmic battles between good and evil. They often depict two great forces, one good and the other evil, in conflict, battling for something. Perhaps they battle for control of the universe. Maybe they battle for the souls of humans. No matter what the prize, such stories fill the human imagination, something our entertainment industry has profited from. I’ve lost count of all the movies and television shows that portray such a conflict, occasionally in interesting ways. And while I agree it makes for highly captivating and enjoyable entertainment, I wish there were other stories that portrayed other understandings of morality and cosmology.1

I think it’s important to understand how popular culture not only shapes how we see the real world around us, but helps shape it. So I think it’s important to consider how such a portrayals of cosmology and morality may not be beneficial when applied to real life. For starters, it allows us to think of “evil” as something driven by an external force rather than an entirely human issue. For example, I think the oppression and dehumanization of certain classes of people is unambiguously and morally reprehensible, but I think it’s motivated by entirely human impulses. In many ways, I think framing such injustice as something supernatural can be used to absolve humans of responsibility and avoid accountability. One example of this can be seen in the response of many white Christians who were indifferent to the Civil Rights movement or even opposed it. Even many Christians2 like Billy Graham, who acknowledged racial injustice was a “human heart issue,” suggested it was a problem that would not be resolved until Jesus’s return.3 This often became an excuse to do little or even nothing.

This is not to say that I think an understanding of cosmology — or theology in general — has nothing to say about morality, however. For starters, I think that my understanding of everything and everyone being bound together by shared wyrd underscores the need for morality. That interdependence is what inspires — even forces — us to consider how our actions affect one another. If there were no consequences for our actions, after all, there would be no need for morality. Simply doing whatever we want would be a perfectly acceptable way to live our lives.

Another problem that I see with the way the dominant culture in our society frames morality, theology, and cosmology is that it does so in highly anthropocentric ways. At face value, his makes sense. After all, human religion is a human construct trying to understand humans’ relationships with the numinous — whether we’re talking about the divine, the wider world, or both. As it’s intended to offer humans guidance, it makes sense that humans would be centered there.

However, I think this becomes problematic when we allow ourselves to assume that the rest of the universe shares our anthropocentric viewpoint. This is how we start to see every natural disaster and other hardship as a personal attack on the humans impacted by these events. It’s the point where we start to speculate about which target(s) of God’s wrath the hurricane was thrown at rather than simply accepting that the hurricane was a force of nature and some humans had the misfortune of being in its path.

I think that a more careful reading of many sacred stories could help alleviate that kind of thinking. As I’m most familiar with the Norse myths, I’ll once again use them as an example. Particularly, I find an examination of the Aesir’s relationship with the jotnar (“giants”) instructive. While many individual jotnar were seen as enemies of the Aesir because they posed a particular threat, they were not collectively seen as evil. In fact, a number of the Aesir were paired with jotnar.4 I’ve seen other Heathens suggest that even Thor, famous slayer of jotnar, only killed those who threatened the balance and/or safety of the world. Beyond that, the Aesir and the jotnar seem to leave one another alone, having different interests. I think it would be good for we humans to internalize a similar sense that there are forces (and possibly entities) in this world that do not share our interests. And sometimes, it means that our best response to them is to stay out of their way as much as possible and find ways to cope and mitigate harm when that is not possible.

Post History: I wrote the first draft of this post on November 17, 2024. I proofread, revised, and finalized it later the same day.

Footnotes

  1. It particularly bothers me when stories that draw on Pagan (either modern or ancient) themes fall into this trope. The reality is that if any such cosmic battle existed in certain cultures’ stories, they were often far more complicated and nuanced than “the good guys versus the bad guys.” ↩︎
  2. Lest anyone think I’m solely picking on white Christians for their frequent allegiance to white supremacy, let me acknowledge that modern Pagan and Heathen movements and organizations have their own struggles white supremacy. In fact, I’m currently reading Queering the Runes by Siri Vincent Plouff. In it, they go through a brief explanation of Heathenry’s dark history of white supremacy. Fortunately, they also have a web page with recommended resources for ensuring that your Heathen practice is anti-racist. ↩︎
  3. For an exact quote, check out chapter two of White Evangelical Racism by Anthea Butler. Then read the entire book. I highly recommend it. ↩︎
  4. Freyr’s marriage to Gerd and Njord’s marriage to Skadi are two famous examples. Also, the interesting thing to note about the marriage between Skadi and Njord is that it was arranged to make peace with Skadi after the Aesir had killed her father, Thiazi. Again, thissuggests a more complicated relationship to me than “good guys versus bad guys.” ↩︎

Concepts in Magic: Wyrd

Back in January, I launched a series of entries called “Concepts in Magic,” starting with a discussion of creation. I followed this with the second entry, that one about will. As I sat at my computer, I decided that the most logical third entry should be about wyrd, as it’s where the previous two concept meet and interract.

Wyrd is a term from Norse mythology. However, I believe that the concept of wyrd exists in most, if not all, magical systems and religious traditions. This can be seen in the fact that wyrd has many aspects in common with such concepts as karma or fate (though none of them are exactly the same). Given the fact that my own practices are heavily influenced by Norse thought, I will focus on wyrd in this entry. However, I strongly believe that much of what I say translates well to other traditions in some form or another.

At its most basic level of understanding, wyrd is the principle that states that the current moment in time is the cumulative result of all past events and choices. If a person takes a moment to ponder all of the circumstances and choices in their lives, they discover a trail which has led them to the point where they stand at this very moment. As they do this, they are pondering and coming to understand wyrd.

Often times, people come to understand wyrd as a personal thing. You will find both modern heathens and Icelandic authors that speak of an individual’s wyrd much like one might talk about one’s karma in the Eastern traditions. While there may be some benefit to this point of view, I have come to the realization that from a magical viewpoint, the idea of personal wyrd is merely an illusion. What we often like to see as “his wyrd,” “her wyrd,” “your wyrd,” or “my wyrd” is merely a limited perspective of a tiny piece of a much greater tapestry, true wyrd. In reality, there is only wyrd, a single fabric of reality that connects and supports everyone and everything. And it is this larger picture of wyrd that is important to a magical mindset.

It is this interconnectedness of all people and things through a single, universal wyrd that makes magic possible. This is because each of us shapes this universal wyrd on some small scale, thereby affecting the greater whole. Indeed, it is our ability to shape wyrd in some way that makes us participants in the creative process. After all, it is wyrd that holds creation together.

In reality, every living being in the universe can and does shape wyrd, even those who don’t understand or believe in it. However, the magician does so both consciously and willfully. A magician comes to understand the nature of wyrd and his contribution to it, thereby enabling himself to influence wyrd in the way he wishes.

Of course, a wise magician does this respectfully and carefully. Wyrd is governed by certain principles (often known as the primal rules or orlog), and so is the process of shaping it. Indeed, one of the great challenges of working effective magic is coming to understand the governing principles behind wyrd well enough to shape it effectively and responsibly. That is an ongoing learning experience which the responsible magician or witch will devote themselves to for the res of their lives — or as long as they choose to work magic.

Concepts in Magic: Creation

Back around Christmas, I read a blog entry by Mark in which he describes the difference between magic and miracle. While he was mainly investigating the topic while examining literature, particularly Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling, it got me to thinking about the nature of magic as I understand it. This line of thought was further stimulated this past week while working on my Review of the movie, “The Covenant.” As a result I’ve decided to start a small series of posts on various concepts I consider important to the practice of magic.

For those who find this and any future entries while searching for spells or practical advice on casting spells, I must inform you that you will be severely disappointed. This is not my intent, as I generally do not believe that a public blog (or most other forms of Internet communication, for that matter) is an appropriate medium for disseminating that kind of information. Instead, this and future posts will be theoretical in nature, covering concepts whose understanding will, in my opinion, at least, enhance a witch’s ability to ply her magical craft.

The first important concept to understand is that creation is not a “done deal.” While many religious traditions teach that God or some other Divine Source created the universe like a “master clockmaker” who assembled everything and wound everything up enough to last for the rest of its existence, a witch understands that the creative forces are still in progress. They see the universe not so much as a mechanical wind-up toy, but as a living thing that has a more organic life. Under such a paradigm, both creation and desctruction are ongoing activities. In Norse mythology, this is represented by Yggdrasil, the world tree which holds up the nine realms. This tree is constantly being nourished so that it grows. That growth is then controlled by the harts which feast on its leaves and the wyrms that gnaw at its roots.

Norse mythology further corroborates that the creation process was not a “one time deal,” at least indirectly, when you consider that there is not a single creation myth in the lore, but a series of stories describing different aspects of creation. In one tale you have the uncovering of Ymir and Audhumla when the fires of Muspelheim and icy waters of Nifleheim combine, while in another tale, you have the creation of man and woman from trees by Odin and his brothers. (Indeed, one might go so far to ask who or what created the trees that were turned to human and when they were created.) This all suggests that the universe unfolded over a period of time.

More importantly, it suggests that there were a great number of players in the creation process. Creation was not done by a single Supreme Being all at once, but was a process where many forces and beings built upon one another’s part of the process. This brings us to the next part of the creation concept: We are participants in the process of creation as well as part of the outcome.

To underscore this concept, I again draw upon Norse mythology. As I mentioned earlier, Yggdrasil is nourished daily. The task of providing this nourishment is left to three giant maidens known as the Norns. These Norns are the embodiment of the Norse concept of wyrd, which can be roughly described as a hybrid of the more familiar concepts of fate and karma. (This is naturally an oversimplification, but a more careful examination of wyrd deserves its own post, which I hope to offer at a later date.) Upon applying this understanding to the myth, the symbolism becomes clear: The universe itself is propagated and nourished by the actions of all who are a part of it. In effect, the universe and its constituant parts, through their actions, guide its own own development and the creative process that is unfolding.

Magical work involves understanding this basic principle and applying it by acting in ways to influence the continuing process of creation in specific ways. Or as Crowley put it, it’s a matter of “effecting change in accordance with will.”

An understanding of creation as an ongoing process addresses one of the issues inherent in Mark’s characterization of magic. Under a paradigm in which creation is a completed process performed long ago by a single Creator, it’s hard not to see any attempt to alter that creation as a “twisting” of said creation. Furthermore, it’s inevitable that one sees that “twisting” as a purely negative and evil thing. The perfect clock cannot be enhanced, and therefore any changes are obviously bad.

An organic understanding of a universe that is still going through the creation process, however, allows for a universe that can be changed both for the better and for the worse. In such a system, especially a system which recognizes every individual as a co-creator anyway, influencing the process becomes natural and understandable. The question of whether said influence is negative or positive becomes a matter of further ethical consideration.