I will call myself a “witch.” Even if I call myself other things as well.

Part of me is surprised that no one has ever asked me why I call myself a “witch” rather than something from Norse practice (like a spae-man or a seithman.1) Probably because I often ask myself that same question and project my own tendency to question my choices onto others. But the fact that someone — even if only myself — is asking, I thought i might be beneficial to explore the answer to the question in a blog post. So here I go.

I started calling myself a witch back in 1998 when I first started exploring non-initiatory Wicca. I dropped the label somewhat when I started exploring Druidry through Ár nDraíocht Féin and then Heatherny through The Troth. However, I eventually realized that neither of these organizations quite nourished my spirit or matched how I perceived my own religious or magical practice, so i decided to go back to calling myself a witch and adopted the term “Vanic witch” to signify just how central my relationship with Freyja was to my own practice of witchcraft.

At this time, I also got involved with an email list that focused on discussing initiatory witchcraft. I found the definition that one of the initiates offered for witchcraft resonated with me:

A witch is someone who serves the role of both priest who serves the gods and ecstatic practitioner who seeks direct experience of the mystical.

Rough paraphrase of a definition given by an elder of the Mohsian tradition.

That’s how I saw (and still see) my own practice so I decided “witch” was the right term for me after all.

Mind you, I do occasionally use other labels to describe myself. I do like “seithman” and “spae-man,”2 as these refer to particular aspects of my practice (or aspects I want to incorporate into it). But they don’t really seem to encompass the entirety of my practice.

To be honest, this is reinforced by the fact that I allow my practice to be syncretic as well. These syncretic practices don’t fit into many of the Norse-specific words. And to be honest, a lot of Heathens who are more strict reconstructionists seem to almost frown on those of us who, for example, still find Tarot to be a useful tool.3 For me, “witch” is a more generic term which makes space for all my practices. It is inclusive of all the tools in my magical practitioner’s toolbox. Both those that have a basis in Norse culture and those that may be syncretized with it.

Also, I think calling myself a “witch” means I’m using an easily recognizable term more people are familiar with. If I say I’m a seithman, a spae-man, or a vitki, most people are going to have no clue what I’m talking about. Heck, I typically have to explain why i call myself a wyrd-worker.4

But if I say I’m a witch, most people have a rough idea of what I’m talking about. And now that people are becoming more aware that there are other witchcraft traditions and practices beyond just Wicca, mistaken assumptions about me along those lines also seem to be less common.

Post History: I wrote the original draft of this post on July 21, 2024. I proofread, revised, and finalized it on July 22, 2024.

Footnotes

  1. Of course, those who know me closely or have followed me long enough might already know that I have “seithman” as one of my email account names. I won’t post the full email address here, as I don’t want to encourage the spammers who already like to hit me up through my contact list. ↩︎
  2. I personally find “spae-master” entirely too prideful to consider using, however. ↩︎
  3. I will note, however, that I am not a fan of trying to blend such syncretic practices to the point where I try to make some universal, coherent system out of all of it. I love both the runes and the Tarot and find them useful, but i see no reason to throw them into a blender and make a single symbol system out of them. In fact, I tend to think it disrespects both practices. ↩︎
  4. Here’s a bit of interesting trivia for you: I typically only refer to myself as a wyrd-worker on my blog and social media. In fact, I started doing it when I created my YouTube channel. I was trying to come up with a name for the channel, and considered “A Witch’s Wisdom.” However, I realized that there were so many witch influences out there and wanted something a bit more unique. So I came up with “A Wyrd-Worker’s Wisdom” instead. And while the term absolutely reflects my understanding of my witchcraft practice and its nature, I will be forever amused by the reality that I adopted the label for the purposes of branding. ↩︎

Exploring a new book for Friday blog posts: “Spinning Wyrd” by Ryan Smith

Happy Friday readers! Isn’t it amazing how the Powers sometimes respond to us in interesting ways? Back on July 15, I commented that I really wanted to find a new book to blog my way through on Fridays. And almost immediately, I found what I believe to be that book. This post and the next few Friday posts will be about Spinning Wyrd by Ryan Smith.

I ran across Smith’s book a couple weeks ago when my Kindle app tossed it out as a book I might be interested in “based on my past reading.” I was mildly interested in the book right away because of the subtitle, “A Journey through the Nordic Mysteries.” So I took note of it and thought little more about it.

However, when I finished both books I had been reading (Cultish by Amanda Montell and a novel from the Crowns of Nyaxia series by Carissa Broadbent), I started looking for a new nonfiction book. As it’s been a while since Ive read a book about Asatru or any form of Heathenry/Norse Paganism,1 I started doing a bit of research. I wanted to find a book that was neither just presenting (non-initiatory) Wicca with Norse names tossed in nor written by someone with folkish or other bigoted views.2 Someone on the Norse Paganism subreddit mentioned, another of Smith’s books, The Way of Fire and Ice, as a good book and one that is radically inclusive. So I bought a copy of both books.

I began reading Spinning Wyrd and immediately started falling in love. In it, Smith describes and offers advice on a radical and radically inclusve type of Heathenry that embraces mysticism, which is right up my alley. One of the things I struggle with much of Heatherny, especially Asatru, is that it’s very academic and strikes me as exoteric. While I appreciate delving into the myths and lore of ancient Norse and other Germanic cultures, I’m not interested in creating a perfect replica of those culture’s beliefs or painstakingly recreate rites that match what those ancient worshipers of the Aesir and Vanir did.

Smith seems to share a similar sentiment. In the introduction to Spinning Wyrd, he lays out the following principle for his brand of Heathenry:3

At the core of Radical Heathenry are five points that set it apart from other forms of Heathen practice and define every aspect of this form of spirituality. These are living tradition, inspired adaptation, modern relevance, inclusive practice, and active involvement.

I also fell in love because his own description of wyrd in the introduction is extremely similar to how I view it:

Wyrd is the symphony of life cocreated by the actions of all beings, from the humblest living things to the mightiest of the godly and animistic Powers of Nordic practice.

I’m excited to read and blog about this book because for the first time, I feel like I may have found someone who sees honoring and working with the Aesir and Vanir very much as I do.4 I look forward to learning whatever i can from expanding my appreciation of the mystical side of Heathen practice and possibly further root my current mystical practices in the ways of Heathenry. I’m not quite ready to full on swear my commitment to the Way of Fire and Ice (the tradition founded by Smith), but I won’t deny that it’s certainly a possibility in the future.

I’m not sure I’ll blog through this book chapter-by-chapter like I did with Changing Paths. I figure I’ll just write a post on any aspect of the book that I feel I want to comment on and explore. It’s possible that might result in a post per chapter. Then again, it might result in me making multiple posts for some chapters.

I’ll also note that I feel like I’m going against some sort of rule here by blogging about Spinning Wyrd rather than first reading and blogging about The Way of Fire and ice, as Spinning Wyrd was written as a follow-up book for The Way of Fire and Ice. But the second book’s focus on wyrd really calls to me, so I want to jump right to it. I definitely plan to read both books, though. And I might even blog about the first one later on. Besides, are any of my readers really surprised that I might flout the rules a bit?

Post History:5 I started writing this post on July 20, 2024. I proofread, revised, and finalized it on July 21, 2024.

Footnotes

  1. I appreciate that Smith seems to use these terms relatively interchangeably. I understand why some Asatruar prefer to distance themselves from the term “Paganism.” However, the term has its uses and I’m not sure I want to draw such hard boundaries between myself and other Pagans. Also, I personally haven’t felt comfortabe identifying with Asatru or even Heathenry because I often feel like a lot of Asatuar would not see my own practice as “reconstructionist” or “culturally pure” enough. Fortunately, I think Smith’s book(s) might help me feel differently on that count. ↩︎
  2. To be honest, searching for a book that meets all of these requirements often feels like hunting for unicorns. ↩︎
  3. Smith refers to his brand of Heathenry as both Radical Heathenry and Fire and Ice Heathenry. He and others maintain an organization for people who are interested in exploring and taking part in this tradition. ↩︎
  4. In fairness, I do know of other Asatruar/Heathens who have mystical practices. For example, I’m familiar with Diana Paxson’s work to reconstruct a modern seidh practice and I loved Jenny Blain’s exploration of the same practice in her book. But everything I’ve read by both of them is more academic than practical or instructional. Granted, Paxson does have a couple of practical books on mysticism (Trance-portation and The Essential Guide to Possession, Depossession, and Divine Relationships) they are written outside of any specific cultural context in order to make them helpful to a wider audience. I appreciate that Smith’s books explicitly place his mystical explorations in the Heathen context. ↩︎
  5. I’ve decided to experiment with including a brief history of my process for each blog post. I feel this offers me a lot of benefits, including enabling me to remember at a glance which posts are actually ready for publication. I hope my readers don’t find it too distracting. ↩︎

A graphic novel that beautifully explores interfaith cooperation.

Last Tuesday marked the release of Youth Group, a comedic horror graphic novel by Jordan Morris and Bowen McCurdy. I had learned about it from listening to the interview Morris gave on the Thereafter podcast and pre-ordered it. As son as the book hit my Kindle account, I downloaded it and tore through it, even tweeting a bit about it as I read along.

The graphic novel is incredible and there are so many things I could say about it. But for this post, I want to focus on one particular aspect of the story: The way that the author (and illustrator) tackled the topic of interfaith cooperation.

Before I dig in too deep, I want to start by noting that this blog post will contain images of individual panels from the graphic novel. Rather than relying on a “Fair Use” defense, I decided to contact Jordan Morris directly and ask for permission to do so. He responded and gave me permission, asking that I only avoid including spoilers.1 I have done my best to honor that request, and I don’t think anything I’ve included gives away any major plot points. Special thanks to Jordan for giving me permission, though.

About a third of the way into the graphic novel, I was a bit concerned about how they might be treating non-Christian religions in it. After all, one demon seemed to be posing as a “crystal healing therapist” and in another case, a character scratching out runes was seen as a sign of demonic possession. I tweeted out a carefully nuanced tweet about my concerns regarding this, acknowledging that this might be unintentional. I explained where my concern really lie and how that was important without detracting from or erasing the positive qualities of the book.

Of course, my fears were greatly alleviated a few pages later, when I ran across one of the evangelical Christian demon hunters saying the following:

“The Wiccans seem cool. The Satanists seem really cool.”

With that one thread, Morris and McCurdy let me know that in this world of theirs, there were Wiccans and Satanists who also hunted demons. I was immediately relieved that this was not a “Christians vs. the ‘weird occult religions'” scenario after all. And yet, what came later was even more of a surprise. Morris and McCurdy didn’t just tell us that that non-Christian demon hunters existed, but introduced us to a few of them.2

The protagonists — a trio of demon hunters from an evangelical church — talk about the existence of other religious groups having demon hunters and consider getting together with them to at least compare notes with one another. As they consider this, they find themselves obligated to deal with the prejudices many evangelical and other conservative/authoritarian Christians have against people from other religions. But eventually, our protagonists decide to have a party where they invite the other demon hunters,3 and they all get together. Some stereotypes are addressed and knowledge is shared, modeling beautifully what interfaith dialogue and cooperation should look like.

Meg the evangelical and Thorn the Wiccan introduce themselves.

This meeting of the minds becomes important to the plot. After the party, the classic “looks like the bad guys might win after all” event takes place and our demon hunters find themselves having to re-evaluate things and figure out what to do. During that time, the protagonist Cortland ends up meeting with the Wiccan demon hunters and they work together to uncover a secret that, in my opinion at least, seems central to the story and its resolution. (I won’t go into details because that would totally be a spoiler.)

The important thing to note though is that they learn this secret through a technique only the Wiccans seem to know about. Of course, the Wiccans also need Cortland because of experiences he has that make him uniquely qualified to help them out in this endeavor. So it is only through the cooperation of people from two different religious traditions that this pivotal (in my opinion at least) plot point can unfold.

This, my friends, is the kind of interfaith cooperation we need to see more of, both in popular culture and in the real world. This acknowledgement that none of these groups can hope to succeed in this fight alone is so vital and one that I hope people take to heart reading this graphic novel.

I, like Meghan Crozier, am rooting for there to be a sequel. And I hope that the sequel continues to portray the kind of interfaith cooperation that this first book did. Of course, as Morris and McCurdy continue to represent other faiths, I hope and trust they will consult members of those faiths.4 To that end, I’d like to offer myself as a non-Wiccan witch with a fair amount of knowledge about Wicca as someone they can run ideas by and/or ask for advice. If you don’t already have that connection through some other source.

Footnotes

  1. Okay, he also asked me to tag him in the post. But that was a foregone conclusion whether he requested it or not. ↩︎
  2. Sadly, we don’t get to meet any demon hunters that are Satanists (maybe that’ll come up in the sequel some of us are hoping for?) Which is a shame. Of course, I could see that leading to some interesting story-telling and world-building. Here in the real world, the two best known Satanic organizations don’t actually believe in supernatural beings. So did the Satanic demon hunters in this fictional universe start as theistic Satanists? Or are they members of the CoS/TST who are dealing with the realization that their disbelief in the supernatural was unfounded? ↩︎
  3. Wiccan, Jewish, and Catholic demon hunters show up, though the Jewish and Catholic demon hunters are mostly silent/unseen during this part of the story beyond announcing their appearance. I will note a couple of the evangelical Christian demon hunters do receive training through a Catholic group later in the story, however. ↩︎
  4. On that note, a minor nitpick/note for the authors: You two know that most Wiccans don’t actually draw pentagrams on the floor for their rituals, right? I’m hoping you did that because it’s an easy identifier despite being pretty trope-ish. ↩︎

Bonus Post: A Norse Pagan rite to support someone severing ties with a loved one

Explanation and Background Information

Happy Saturday, dear readers! I decided to publish a bonus post today due to something that an acquaintance from an online deconstruction community said over on Threads:

Thoughts on grief & estrangement.

The thing about no contact with a parent is they have basically died.

But society doesn’t have a way to really grieve that.

My uncle died and my health (and said estranged parent) is precluding me from going to the memorial.

I wrote cards to my aunt and cousins this week, sending my condolences.

But before I sent those, some internal work was required, bc my mom has died – but no one really knows that.

Threads post by joyfulsojournr.

What joyfulsojournr said struck a cord with me. This is something that we as a society — especially those of us who like to build religious community — really need some sort of rite for. After all, we have rites for funerals, weddings, births, coming of age, and many other life events. Why not rites to honor cutting ties with someone and mourning the loss of that relationship?

At first, I wrote a draft of a simple solitary rite for grieving the loss of relationship. However, as I thought about it more, I realized this is a moment in people’s lives where they need community recognition of and support for this important and often painful transition in their lives. So i have chosen to expand the rite into something that a kindred or other group might do. I’m including the entirety of this new community-oriented rite in this post.

I will note that this rite is deeply rooted in (my understanding of) Norse mythology and cosmology and draws on that symbolism extensively. As such, this rite won’t meet the needs of everyone. But hopefully it will give even those who do not honor the Aesir and Vanir ideas on how they might develop their own rites to help one another through such a life decision.

The ritual

Participants:

  • Mourner (the person cutting ties with a loved one)
  • Ritual Leader
  • Priest of Thor
  • Priest of Freyja
  • Priest of Idunna

Note: The ritual leader and three priests can be of any gender. Also, the same person can take on more than one role. However, when possible, the role of each priest should be taken on by someone who has a close connection with that deity.

Items Required

  • Two drinking horns or cups filled with a suitable beverage
  • An apple or a few apple slices
  • An offering bowl (can be excluded if the rite is to be performed outdoors and offerings may be poured directly onto the ground.

Ritual Body

Gather everyone to the ritual space and get everyone’s attention.

Priest of Thor: (Making the sign of Thor’s hammer at each of the four cardinal directions, then toward the sky, then the earth.) Mighty Thor! Hallow this place that we might gather with the gods, the ancestors, and the spirits of land here!

All: Hail Thor! Hallow this place!

Ritual Leader: Gods. Ancestors. Spirits of this land. Please attend this rite that you might witness what we say and do here today. For with this rite, we seek to influence wyrd.

All: Hail to the Powers! Witness our rite and our working of wyrd.

Ritual Leader: Today, we both witness and participate in a shift in wyrd. A member of our community, [Mourner] has chosen to cut someone from their lives. Step forward and name the person.

Mourner: I have chosen to remove [person] from my life. (Mourner may acknowledge who this person is and what relationship there has been between them if they wish.)

Ritual Leader: Have you made this choice of your own free will?

Mourner: I have.

Ritual Leader: And do you believe that this is the best course of action for the sake of your health and well-being?

Mourner: I do. (Mourner may briefly elaborate on why they have made this decision if they wish.)

Ritual Leader: Then as your community in frith with you, we shall honor this choice.

Priest of Thor: As Thor guards the enclosures of men and gods from those chaotic forces that would do harm, I swear to help you maintain your separation from [person] so long as you wish it.

All: So we all swear.

Mourner should take up the first cup or drinking horn at this time.

Priest of Freyja: Freyja, the queen of the Vanir was once separated from her lover, Od. During her separation she cried tears that turned to gold, demonstrating that grief itself is precious and valuable. And while you have chosen to cut off [person], we acknowledge that there will still be grief involved. I invite you to pour out your grief at this time.

Mourner should pour out an offering from the vessel they hold.

Note: The participants should discuss each of the next three offerings and only include the ones relevant to Mourner. For example, if Mourner has no good memories with the person they’re cutting from their life, that offering should be left out.

Priest of Freyja: Even relationships that no longer serve us often had its bright moments. These will lead to memories that need to be grieved. And there may be grief that no such future memories will be created.

Mourner should pour out another offering. Optionally, they may also share some of the memories they are grieving.

Priest of Freyja: Often when we end a relationship, it is because we realized that it was not the kind of relationship we had originally thought of us. Such disillusionment is often painful and we must grieve the loss of what we thought we had as much as we grieve those things that were real.

Mourner should pour out another offering. Optionally, they may also share what some of the shattered illusions the termination of this relationship is forcing them to grapple with.

Priest of Freyja: The termination of a relationship often comes with the loss of hope. Hope that the relationship will improve. Hope that we can somehow fix or salvage it. The loss of that hope deserves to be grieved.

Mourner should pour out another offering. Optionally, they may also share what hopes they had for the relationship up to this point.

Priest of Freyja: Hear us, Queen of the Vanir! Having witnessed [Mourner’s] offering of grief, we acknowledge the pain of her loss and the value of her grief. Like your own tears, let their grief be a precious as gold to you.

All: Hail Freyja! Accept their grief!

Reilgious Leader: Grief is not a one-time experience that can quickly left behind. As your community, we recognize that these offerings are just the start of your grieving journey. We swear to support you as that journey continues.

All: So we swear!

Priest of Idunna: (Picking up the apple or apple slices) As Idunna nourished the gods with her apples and kept them strong, let us nourish, comfort, and strengthen you during this time of change and grieving.

The Priest of Idunna should offer the apple to Mourner, who should then eat it.

Ritual Leader: (Picking up the second cup or drinking horn) Let us all share a drink and toast our love and support to [Mourner].

Hold a one-round sumbel where each participant affirms Mourner’s decision, offers a blessing during their time of grieving, or otherwise demonstrates their support. Mourner should drink from the cup last, offering gratitude to those in attendance and stating their hopes moving forward.

Ritual Leader: Gods! Ancestors! Spirits of this land! We thank you for witnessing this rite. We ask you to continue to bless our community and especially [Mourner] during this time and grief.

All: Hail to the Powers! Thank you for your attendance!

Ritual Leader: This rite is concluded. Let us break together bread in kinship and frith.

Retire to feasting and good conversation.

The Wyrd-Worker rants: The harmfulness of the body/spirit dichotomy

See the update at the bottom of the post.

A common idea that much of our society seems overly invested in is the separation of the body and spirit or soul. Often, the soul is viewed as something that is contained by — or worse, trapped by — our body. At death, it moves on to some sort of afterlife. In my emphatic opinion, this line of thinking devalues the body in toxic and harmful ways.

I maintain that our bodies are both integral and essential to our experience as human beings. After all, without our bodies, we would have no way to experience this life. So while I believe that something of myself will probably “move on” from this life after I take my final breath,1 that could never be fully me. Without my body, it is at best a shadow or a ghost (see what I did there?) of my full, living, and human self.

To my way of thinking, this issue isn’t just a matter of making sure we have the right theology or cosmology regarding the afterlife.2 For me, this issue is much more important because the resulting devaluation of our bodies and an over-inflation of the importance of spirit or our souls leads to negative thought patterns and behaviors. To give just one example, I’ve noticed some people in the New Age and even witchcraft movement seem to be adopting purity culture style ethics. Some have gone so far as to view maintaining their virginity and/or embracing cisheteronromative, patriarchal relationship models as the only correct ones as some sort of spiritual ideal. I don’t know whether the people thinking this way are reinventing these ideas or if they’re former Christians who just haven’t abandoned those notions as they’ve moved into a new spiritual tradition. Either way, I find it a disturbing trend. As those who have spent years talking about purity culture in Christianity have repeatedly noted, that kind of thinking is toxic and harms people, often to the point of fully traumatizing them.3

I think that being a devotee of Freyja strongly impacts my view of this topic. As I continue to grow in my relationship with her, I find that Freyja is all about embodiment. Not only when it comes to our sexuality, but in all aspects of our lives. So to devalue the blessings of our bodies and the experiences we have through them in favor of some sort of focus on the spirit and/or soul just feels like spitting on those blessings.

And Freyja does not seem unique among the Pagan deities in this matter. Many of the deities in many cultures strike me as being embodied and make the experiences of our bodies an important part of their rites and mysteries. I’d hate to see modern Pagns and witches lose that.

This post was inspired a journal prompt I found online: Do I believe I’m a spiritual being in a human body? What does this concept mean to me?

Updated 07/19/2024: After I completed and scheduled this post, David Hawyard posted a tweet talking about how this divide between the body and the soul can also lead to ableism.

I think he makes an excellent point and wanted to draw my readers’ attention to it.

Footnotes

  1. Personally, I tend to envision that something as an “enlivening essence” rather than a soul containing my full consciousness and mental faculties. I’m open to the possibility that said essence might carry a vague imprint of some of my memories or personality quirks, but once again, this isn’t fully me. Heck, I doubt it’s even my full consciousness. ↩︎
  2. Ultimately, I think such theology and cosmology is unverifiable and not that important anyway. I’m all for focusing on this life rather than what may come after it. ↩︎
  3. Okay! Time for a break for nuance, lest my aro-ace friends (and others) who are sex indifferent or even sex-repulsed think I’m invalidating them. Not being interested in sex is entirely valid for certain people. And if you’re one of those people, you should embrace that rather than trying to be someone you’re not. But I thank all of those people who don’t want sex, yet manage not to turn it into some sort of sign that they’re somehow “more spiritual” than the rest of us. And I’d ask you to continue to call in those who tend to present their lack of sexual interest as such. ↩︎

Checking in: We need more steam, Captain!

Happy Monday, readers. I’m doing a bit of a check-in for today’s blog post because I must admit — somewhat red-faced — that I don’t have anything prepared. While I had a great time participating in #ChangingPathsChallenge2024 all last month and going through some of the journal prompts in Yvonne Aburrow’s book on Fridays, I didn’t do a very good job of planning for what comes next. I made it through last Monday by coming across something on Threads I wanted to talk about, but no such luck this week. Oh, there are a couple things I could have talked about, but my weekend also didn’t really lend itself to working any of those ideas into a blog post.

I’m not giving up like I’ve often done in the past, though. I just need to regroup and make a plan and put in a bit of prep time. Hopefully, things will be motoring right along starting next week. As for this Friday, I’ve gathered a list of bookmarks to lists of journal prompts relating to witchcraft, Paganism, and spirituality in general. I will probably use those lists for blogging prompts on Fridays until I can find another book I want to blog my way through.

I’m currently reading Cultish by Amanda Montell right now. It’s a fascinating book and I’m enjoying her exploration of how cults use language to draw in and control their followers. I also find it interesting and compelling how she points out how cultish language is everywhere, and not just in cults themselves. I’m considering doing a blog post about that as well as on discussing the authoritarianism in cults and how religions can and should strive to be explicitly anti-authoritarian. But I don’t see myself doing a whole blog series about the book. I’d love to find another book I could do that with.

I’ll also note that I was probably more than a little exhausted by the end of June from doing the blog challenge. As much as I loved participating (and plan to do it again), it definitely confirmed that I am not someone who can blog daily. And I think that blogging fatigue contributed to my failure to prepare for what comes next. Well, that and the fact that I’m a notorious procrastinator.

But rather than engage in useless and even counterproductive self-recrimination, I’m just going to pick up and get going again.

Thanks for listening. Drop a comment below and let me know how all of you are doing. And as always, requests for blog posts covering specific topics are always welcome.

Forget the mountain, I’m headed for the beach: Exploring a Journal Prompt from Chapter 14 of “Changing Paths”

Happy Friday, dear readers! This Friday marks my exploration of the final chapter in Changing Paths by Yvonne Aburrow. I thought I’d offer a few musings on the following journal prompt from the book:

Do you believe that all religions are paths up the same mountain, or up entirely different mountains?

As I think about this question, I suppose that all religions might have the same goal in an extremely broad sense, the sense that religions attempt to connect us with the numinous. But the nature of what the numinous actually is and the reasons to connect to it can be vastly different.

In certain forms of Christianity, such as evangelical Christianity as practiced among white people,1 the goal seems to be to cozy up to the Christian god in order to secure one’s place in a pleasant, satisfying afterlife. In extreme cases, this kind of theological framework views this life and this earth as completely unimportant, enabling some such Christians to not care about protecting the environment or making the world a better, more just place.2

Compare this to Judaism, where the message of the religion is mainly about building community and sticking together in this life as well as making this world a better place for everyone. Or consider the many Pagans who view this earth as sacred — or at least close to it — and life something to be celebrated in a religious context.

I think things get even more varied and nuanced when you consider how different religions perceive and talk about the numinous or even the Divine. Religions that are authoritarian and expect unquestioning obedience to their deities are quite different from religions that view deities as beings one can negotiate and argue with and possibly even enter into a mutually beneficial relationship to achieve common goals together. When you add in religions that might seek out connection with the numinous but not specific deities or similar entities, I think the possibilities become even more numerous and varied.

The reality is that such different conceptualizations of the Divine and/or the numinous further impacts the goals of a given religion. As my title for this post suggests, I’m not even sure we’re all traveling up the same mountain. Some of us may be headed toward and traversing different geological features entirely.

Footnotes

  1. I should note that many non-white people take a similar view, especially those who attend churches that are predominantly led by white people. However, I think it’s important to note that there are non-white evangelical churches — most notably Black churches — that see things very differently. They tend to be deeply influenced by liberation theology (mainly because they developed it). This can best be seen by studying how the Black church was a key driver in the Civil Rights movement and continues to advocate for racial justice, as compared to white evangelicals who have tended to downplay racial justice issues, even suggesting it’s something that will only be resolved “when Christ returns and establishes his kingdom.” ↩︎
  2. Again, I’m painting with a broad brush pointing out trends. There are Christians who take a completely different approach to their theology and the implications of what it means to live out a Christian life. I’d say that different Christians are even “traveling up different mountains” from one another. So if you’re a Christian and you’re getting ready to tell me I’m not describing what you believe as a Christian, relax. I’m not talking about you. It’s the whole reason I’ve been trying to use precise language here. ↩︎

“Religion” and “Christianity” are not synonyms: Why it’s important we don’t surrender words the the hegemony

Yesterday, I ran into the following image over on Threads:

For those who cannot see the image, it’s a lovely block of text written by Witch Joseph. The text reads as follows:

Dear Religious People…I don’t know what I believe and post about offend you…it’s not like I follow a book that teaches that you will be torture in flames for eternity for not believing as I do…now that would be offensive.

Over all, I think it’s a powerful statement and one that I agree with. However, the fact that it’s addressed to “religious people” bothered me a bit. You see, I’m religious myself. In fact, a lot of witches are.

Witch Joseph and I had a brief conversation about that fact and I think was a productive one. To summarize, he acknowledged that he too is religious and that he’s using “religious” in the context of the above statement to mean a very particular kind of religiosity. In many ways, I can respect that. After al, I’ve written more than a few answers about what people possibly mean when they say they’re “spiritual but not religious”1 over on Quora and those answers usually involve acknowledging that people using a very particular definition of “religiosity as well.”

And yet, I’m still personally uncomfortable with it. After all, I’m not convinced that people who read the text in the image are aware that the author is using a very particular definition of “religious people” or “religion” or that there are other definitions out there. As the title of this blog post suggests, it feels to me as though it helps to further embed the idea that “religion” and “Christianity” are synonyms. In a society where Christian hegemony is rampant and often goes unrecognized, I think that’s concerning.

I think it’s a bad idea to let Christians define what it means to be “religious” and surrender the word to their mechanizations. As someone who is a member of a minority religion, I think it’s important to point out that “religion” and “religiosity” comes in many shapes, sizes, colors, and flavors. Otherwise , we help pave the way for those who want to say that our religions are not “real religions” because they’re nothing like Christianity, the “gold standard” of religions in many people’s minds.

Relatedly, I want to draw people’s attention to Yvonne Aburrow’s series of videos in which they advocate for Pagans reclaiming certain words (including “religion“). I think it’s important to show that these words have other meanings and remind everyone that there are ideas in the “religious marketplace” that are substantively different than (a particular kind of) Christianity.

Footnote

  1. Personally, I find that phrasing troubling as well, and for many of the same reasons. I think this is important to note that my issue is not with Witch Joseph (in fact, I think he’s awesome). My problem is with a broader trend that I find concerning because it’s so common. Joseph merely provided a recent example of that trend. ↩︎

Inclusive Heathenry: Exploring a journal prompt from chapter 13 of “Changing Paths”

Happy Friday, dear readers!. I hope you’ve all had a great week. And for my readers who, like me, are in the United States, I hope you had a pleasant and safe Fourth of July! Does everyone still have all their fingers?

For today’s post, I’d like to explore the following journal prompt from chapter twelve of Changing Paths by Yvonne Aburrow:

Do you feel that everything about you is accepted and welcomed by your spiritual community?

I should note — as I briefly mentioned in an earlier post in this series — that I don’t have much interaction with our local community at this time. At one point, I was part of a local non-initiatory Wiccan coven, which did fully accept me. Of course, I helped found that coven, so I had a strong say in the ideals, values, and inclusiveness of that coven. And there was a general idea of “everyone is welcome’ in the greater community. But I can’t say that we as a broader community made an intentional effort to welcome and accommodate people from diverse background and life experiences.

What I want to focus on i this post, however, is the question of inclusiveness in the greater (world-wide) Heathen and Norse Pagan community. I think most people are aware that there are large movements of white supremacists who use Norse/Germanic mythology and a twisted version of those cultures’ history to support their racist views. There are also many in those communities that are transphobic and homophobic, many of whom raise the specter of ergi1 in the lore to justify their restrictive views on gender and sexuality.

Fortunately, many Heathens and Norse Pagans have worked hard to condemn and counteract bigotry within their ranks. One of the most famous examples of this is the creation of the Declaration of Deeds, which many organizations and kindreds have signed.

The reality is that whether my community makes me feel fully accepted depends entirely on which segments of the greater Heathen/Norse Pagan community you’re talking about. There are groups that I avoid. There are groups I would gladly join in a blot or sumbel and feel perfectly welcome and safe to do so.

As I wrap up this post, I would also like to note that this series is coming to a close soon. I only have one more chapter to blog about, which I will do next Friday. After that, I will have to figure out a new Friday blog series to start on July 19. If any of my readers would like to recommend another book you’d like me to blog my way through, an alternative source of journal prompts I might work through, or any other ideas, I’d love to hear about them. Drop me a comment with your ideas.

Footnotes

  1. The link I have provided is to an article by inclusive Heathen and author Diana L. Paxson that explains ergi and provides the historical context that explains why she does not believe the concept is a condemnation of homosexuality. ↩︎

Thoughts after reading the recently released biography of Scott Cunningham

A Kindle snapshot of the cover of Christine Cunningham Ashworth’s biography about her brother, Scott.

Hello dear readers! #ChangingPathsBookChallenge is over and it’s time to get back to my Monday and Friday posting schedule.

Today, I thought I’d hare a few thoughts about Scott Cunningham and the biography his younger sister published recently, as I just finished reading it. I’ve already posted a review of the book over on GoodReads. However, I tried to keep that short and focused on the book itself. This post will talk more about my experiences and thoughts from engaging with Scott’s books myself as well as my thoughts on the biography.

Like so many people who came to witchcraft in the 1990s, the first book on the subject I read was Cunningham’s WIcca: A Guide for the Solitary Practitioner. And while I now consider my own witchcraft decidedly non-Wiccan, Scott’s book will always a special place in my heart. As he did for so many other witches, Cunningham got me started on my journey, and to that, I owe him a debt of gratitude. I will not forget my roots despite having moved beyond them. And in many ways, I think that Scott would approve. And honestly, based on her book, I think his sister would agree with my assessment.

By the time I read Scott’s book, he had been dead for roughly 5 years, something I did not know at the time. One of the things that came as a surprise to me while reading Christine’s book was that Scott’s life had been claimed by AIDS. I had known that Scott was gay — and often felt a certain amount of affection for and solidarity with him because of our shared sexual orientation — but knew no details about his personal life beyond that. For me, one of the hardest parts of reading this biography was hearing the tragic way his life ended and how his health faded away at the time. I admire Christina’s willingness to face the pain of reliving those moments of her brother’s life so that she could share them with us.

I’m considering digging out my copy of Scott’s book and reading it again. It’s been nearly thirty years since I read it and I think it might be interesting to see how the book strikes me now. Also, I feel like doing so would be another chance to re-engage him in a dialogue of sorts.

At any rate, I remember you, Scott Cunningham. You will always be a cherished mentor and a spiritual forebear to me. Hail to you.

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