Given
the time of year, I thought I’d take this opportunity to speak about
spirituality and religion. A glance at social media leaves us bombarded with
assertions of the ‘War on Christmas’. One cannot watch Fox News for very long
without hearing a new example of bleeding-heart liberals and progressives
trying to take Christ out of the holiday. The underlying assumption is that
this is a Christian nation, and, as such, Christmas is the only holiday to be
celebrated once December (or November, or even October) rolls around.
I
was raised in a Christian household. I was taught from birth to believe that
the only way be a good person and to gain my eternal reward was to accept Jesus
Christ as my personal savior. One of my earliest memories is my mother sobbing
uncontrollably at church. As a very small child, I was terrified, and fearfully
asked her what was wrong. She replied, ‘I’m just filled with the holy spirit,
honey’. I thought she was saying she was being possessed by a ghost! I wondered
why no one was helping her, but everyone nearby patted her on the back and
smiled, proud of her piety. I just stared at her, hoping my mommy would return
soon.
Throughout
the years, I heard church friends speaking in tongues, witnessed pastors
telling my family not to vote for certain politicians or they would be on the
fast-train to hell, and had my grandmother write me at college, the only letter
I ever received from Nanna while I was at school, with a two-page handwritten
list of companies whose products I was not to purchase because their businesses
supported Satan.
By
that time, I had been disenchanted by Christianity for the above, and many
other reasons. Every family wedding I attended included the line about wives
being submissive to their husbands. I would ask why God was only the father,
and be told that ‘He’ created man first, in his image, and created woman as a
helper to man, and that all my answers could be found in the bible. Upon
reading this holy book, I was disgusted. I found this supposed handbook on how
to live a holy life filled with examples of the worst kinds of behavior
imaginable- murder, torture, rape, child sacrifice, all done in the name of
righteousness and God’s will.
I
knew by my middle school years that this religion wasn’t for me, but still felt
an irresistible pull toward spirituality. I researched world religions with an
academic fervor, but found nothing that spoke to my heart.
One
night a friend excitedly showed me a book she had bought; specifically, the
chapter on gemstones and their magickal properties. She forgot the book in my
bedroom and later that evening I picked it up to see what else it contained. I
don’t remember which book it was, but it was of the ‘Wicca 101’ variety. I read
the entire book that night- not with academic enthusiasm, but with the passion
I had been seeking for years. I knew by then end of the first chapter that I
had found my truth.
I
dedicated myself to a pagan path at nineteen. I had been devouring every morsel
of information I could find for about five years at that point. This began in
the pre-internet days, and I was from a very small rural town. I had my copy of
Scott Cunningham’s ‘Wicca’ and whatever scraps of information I came across. I
had rebelled from Christianity partly because it tried to dictate my every
choice and belief to me. Paganism and witchcraft presented a wholly difference
approach- one of experimentation and self-discovery, of forging my own path armed
both with the knowledge of the ancients and my own personal gnosis.
I
prepared and enacted a dedication ritual my sophomore year at college. I asked my roommate to give me an hour or so, lined up
my directions and lit my candles. The candles overflowed onto our carpet as I
muddled through a half-memorized ritual, feeling partly rebellious and partly
awkward, with just a dose of fear and doubt thrown in the mix, a throw-back
from my early indoctrination. Then I went outside and sat on a bench for an
unknown amount of time, just breathing. I was slightly disappointed- I didn’t
feel any different. There was no Moment of Transformation. There was just a
puddle of wax that I’d have to explain to my roommate.
My
real dedication came a short time later, completely unplanned and unscripted.
My
friend Kate was sad because our other friend, Kristi, was going home for the
weekend and would be unable to accompany Kate to church on her grandmother’s
birthday. Kate went to light a candle each year since her passing, and asked
Kristi to go along the year before for moral support. Kate appeared nervous to
ask me to go this year, but I immediately said yes, honored by the request. Kristi
later confessed to me that when she told Kate she couldn’t go and suggested she
ask me to go in her stead, Kate had replied, “but Monica’s not Christian”. This,
Kristi said, wasn’t because Kate thought I’d burst into flames upon entering a
church, but more that Kate thought I’d be uncomfortable at the thought. Luckily
Kristi convinced her to ask me anyway, because that night was a watershed
moment in my life.
It
was a cool, windy evening when we walked the block or two to the church. It had
a rather large nave as it catered to both the local and college community, but
we had it mostly to ourselves that evening. The lights were low and our
footsteps echoed in the candle-lit silence. Kate had told me earlier that she
liked to light her candle then just sit quietly and commune, remembering her
grandmother and giving thanks for their time together. I found a pew a bit away
to give her space, expecting to just sit and wait for her to be ready to leave.
Instead,
I found myself praying for the first time since I was thirteen or so. Unlike past
devotions, however, this prayer did not feel forced or uncomfortable in the
least. Before long, there were tears falling as my shoulders softly trembled,
and I knew that, somewhere, somehow, my prayers were being heard.
I
talked to God, the Father, and asking him to please hear me as I needed him
right now like no other time in my life. I told him everything in my heart- the
good, the bad, the fearful and the loving. I told him that I had found a path
that fulfilled me in a way that no church service could, and that my true nave
was clearing in the woods, my pew a seat around a bonfire. I told him that this
path sustains my heart in a way that I was only beginning to comprehend, but
that I couldn’t dedicate myself to this life until there was no lingering voice
in my head asking, ‘But what if you are going to hell? Do you really think you
know better than most of the people in this country who say you’re going to
burn eternally for your beliefs?’ So I prayed to God and for those moments
completely put myself in his hands and meant it wholly when I told him that I
would rather have my life ended there, that night, than to go against his will.
As I sat there, spent but spiritually open, I finally felt the transcendence
that I had witnessed in church buy never experienced myself, and I knew in that
moment that I was connected to something bigger than just me. I was humbled for
the first time by the extraordinary power of the ultimate Creator, the force
behind all the names. I think I was still crying lightly when I heard Kate get
up and walk over.
I kept
my head down, and she respected my privacy, knowing whatever I was experiencing
was very personal. She walked out of the church and I followed a few feet
behind, still lost in my own thoughts. I knew I had had an amazing experience,
but still felt no closure, no answer to guide me…
Then
I walked out of the church and into the windy autumn night. There was a lovely
fall scent in the air and I felt the most awesome feeling of peace sweep over
me. I physically felt any remaining guilt and fear lift effortlessly from my
body and be carried along by the wind, dispersing. I felt a powerful voice
speak for the first time- it was and is the voice of the divine channeled
through my own true voice, the still inner me that communicates with that which is larger than me. And that voice let me know in no uncertain terms that love
and joy are the answer, and that is the only doctrine to which I have to adhere
to be one of God’s children.
So,
fast-forward almost twenty years to the thirty-seven year old woman now sitting
behind her keyboard trying to show even one person that, even though we
disagree in relation to religion, we can both be right. If your celebration
comes from a place of love, then you celebrate God! There is only one ultimate
Truth. I admit that this divine Truth is beyond my human comprehension, and I
think most religious doctrines would agree on some level. Religion is your
personal pathway to this Truth.
The
problem comes when people think that because their path feels SO right to them,
that it must be the only correct path, and that everyone else must follow them.
Think of it like this for a moment:
Picture
yourself sitting at an enormous round dining table with so many seats that you
can’t even tell how many there are. In the center of the table is the most
beautiful vase of flowers you’ve ever seen. There are so many flowers of all
varieties and they’re so radiant and perfect that you know whoever arranged
these flowers did it tenderly, with love and an eye to beauty. If the flowers
are God, the chairs are our various religious viewpoints. Some people never
move to a different seat- they are perfectly happy where they are. Some people
feel they got the seat with the crappy side of the arrangement or their view is
blocked by something. Some may get up and move just a bit now and then, but are
sure they have the best view and hold to that belief. But it’s all the same, at
the heart- the Truth. Where you’re sitting doesn’t matter as long as you’re not
hurting anyone else at the table or obstructing their view.
In
my case, I want to see the flowers from every angle possible! Beauty is beauty,
and I have done quite a bit of exploring on my infinite journey to understand
the divine. I believe there’s value in Eastern knowledge Buddhism and Ayurveda.
I love the concept of Jewish mysticism and respect the message of love that
Jesus represents.
Taking
into account my view of religion overall and my complete acceptance from a
young age that religion should be a joyous, meaningful and very personal
experience, as well as my love of Nature, it was a forgone conclusion that I
practice my spirituality the way I do. If I get to choose how I celebrate my
concept of God, why wouldn’t I? So I choose to thank the universe for what it has
given me- my body, my health, my relationships, friends and family, my
Womanhood, and the land that sustains my body and spirit. I give thanks for the
changing seasons and see those changes as a reflection of the changes that
manifest in my own tiny existence. As the day is born and grows in strength and
power then wanes and finally dies to be reborn tomorrow; as the flowers grow
from earth in spring to fruitfulness in summer to harvest in autumn to death
and rest in winter only to be reborn again in spring; as the moon shifts in her
nightly appearance and the sun waxes and wanes yearly, I celebrate and honor
all of the complexities of the universe that are held together in love and
balance by this magickal and incomprehensible force that we call God. Or Goddess. Or Gaia, Yahweh, Demeter or
Krishna.
That
is why, although I am not a Christian, I can feel perfectly
at home in a Christian church. Especially if it’s one where I can feel the
positive energy created by the good intentions and true, loving belief of the
congregation. There are no ‘competing gods’. There is only one creative force
of the universe. What matters is how I commune with that creator, not what I
call it. I don’t believe that existence is wrathful, spiteful or jealous. And
even if it is these things at times, I don’t want to worship that aspect of it.
By celebrating love and beauty, that’s what I call into my life, and for all
the challenges I’ve been handed, I love my life and how I’ve chosen to live
it.
The
reason I meditate and chant and create magick circles and dance around bonfires
is because that is my most direct and comfortable path to God. The pentacle I
wear is my symbol of faith and reminder to live a life of balance with all of
existence and to honor Nature in all her elements. And when I say that, feel
free to take it to mean ‘I honor God in all his glory’ if you like- it’s all
the same to me! Love is love and it all comes from the same Source. There seems
to be an innate part of each of us that yearns to find answers to the big
questions. Too often we witness someone who has found what sustains them and
believe that this is the answer. I
finally see that each answer found only adds one piece to the puzzle; that
ultimately the answers come in the way each of us assembles those pieces, and
even that is only a glimpse at the Mysteries.
