Not in My Bible

Some days I want to disavow the Christian church all together. This from our local paper:

Church Members Protest President: Group Rallies the First Sunday of Each Month
By Gary Glancy & Kim Kimzey
Staff writers

Published: Monday, October 5, 2009 at 3:15 a.m.

There were no counter marcheers, no police and not much fanfare, but about 50 members of the all ages from true Light Pentecost Church publicly vocalized their frustrations with President Barack Obama on Sunday.

Marching with a small brass section that played hymns such as "Lord I Want to Thank You," and "Victory is Mine" along North church Street from the Spartanburg County Administration Building to Krispy Kreme next door, the church rally opposed the president's position on abortion and homosexuality.

The held signs that included "America was founded on the belief of the true God. What happened?"; "The early church did not fear the sodomites";' and "President Obama continues to allow the innocent slaughter of babies...abortion is pre-meditated first degree murder."

After the march, Prophet H. Walker, overseer of True Light, delivered a sermon through a bullhorn condemning homosexuality, and saying "leadership causes this problem to manifest itself."

The only interaction with the public came as church leaders handed out fliers promotion their message to motorists stopped at the traffic light in front of the administration building.

I find the image frightening. I wish these people would read their bible before they spew hate. I am one to choose to argue scripture. I leave that to Cameron, to my priest, and to my own heart. However, I am deeply troubled by pickets reading "Modern Term: Homosexuality-Lesbian. Bible Term: Sodomites I Kings... I have to wonder if they have any idea that Sodomite is a term used by the King James bible, and can't even be found in some other translations such as NIV. Indeed, this is from the Purple Pew:

The men of Sodom forcibly sodomized foreigners and strangers as way to claim authority and dominance. As the bible passage says, all the people were present, including the women and children. The entire city was wicked. The Sodomites were prideful, haughty, slothful gluttons who had respect of persons, cared not a whit for the poor, and did not follow the ways of the Lord (Ezekiel 16:55-56). The act of anal sex is called sodomy today not because the men were homosexual -- for Ezekiel says they had daughters, and if they had daughters then they had wives -- but because the men of Sodom (in the presence of their wives) used anal sex as a weapon to control, humiliate, and show contempt for their enemies: foreigners and strangers.

So Sodomites were rapists, which the people of True Light Pentecost Church equate with homosexuals. Hmmm.....can it get more wrong than this???

Initation, Status, and Eclecticism

This question was recently posted on my favorite elist:

I will also add that if you are an eclectic Wiccan than I truly don't understand why you care - if you don't believe you need an initiation to be Wiccan, than why worry about what other people say?

Hmmmm..... I consider myself to be eclectic because of having had each of my initiations with a different coven. In fact, my third degree, while conducted by a priestess who had been present at the previous two degrees, was more my elder than my "teacher". I was mentored my several priestess, actually, amidst several groups imploding/exploding. The little fledgling grove we are forming, which Cameron will initiate with, is the last remnant of any of these groups. We are not gardinarian, fairey, or any other "tradition" although we will borrow from whatever "works". If our group grows and survives, I hope it will become a tradition of its own in due time. Until we can be a tradition (meaning one of our members eventually carries our ways to another group of people), then we are a gathering of eclectic witches who have formed a grove.

Why is it important to be known as a grove, coven, etc and to have had the initiatory experience beyond the personal experience associated with initiation? I hate, hate, hate to say this, but initiation confers status. Of course you'll have to prove yourself with new people, but the simple statement "I initiated with" opens doors.

I'm not forgetting that you want to be part of the wiccan community at large, and be respected, then you better know your stuff, have some sort of credentials, be verifiable and have name recognition. I am suggesting that when we go to Goddess Fest, I want our group to be treated equal to any other group. I want our group to be a stable presence in a very unstable community. I want us to teach workshops, be present on Pagan Pride Day, help the homeless, and serve our community in whatever capacities the Goddess provides. I want the people we mentor to be able to say "oh, I got my degree/initiated with the Sacred Pathways Grove" and the folks at Goddess Fest, Autumn Fest, or any other gathering think "Oh, they know their stuff over there". I want us to be able to teach a workshop and participate in our community without a whole lot of "cat sniffing butt" behavior that usually occurs.

Right or wrong, there can be a lot of arrogance in the wiccan community. Since I want to be a part of that community, because change can't occur if I don't help work at it, then I've got to meet them on their terms. And honestly, we wiccans have to be suspicious. There are some crazy people out there that can cause a great deal of harm. And that's the end of my rant/thoughts/reflection.

“A time out of time, and space out of space"

I have done a lot of ritual magic over the years. As part of a coven we often worked together to ask for such things as healing or bounty for all of the covenstead. Indeed, I was trained in a healing grove so a lot of our work was for that purpose. Lady Amber always began her classes with very specific instructions and tools. By the time students initiated, they could cast circle and a ritual with no tools at all. Skill in both methods has its own time and place. Indeed, I have gone from being trained very ritualistically to become a very eclectic witch. But I think beginning with such a ritualistic approached honed my abilities.

Now as a solitaire and part of our loose, unnamed, circle of women that shifts from celebration to celebration, my magick use also shifted considerably. Indeed, cones of power aren't a large part of my life these days. Usually we do one in our group, but it's pretty watered down at our women's group--not the kind of energy raising I did as a covener. I looked in my book of shadows the other day, and since taking my third degree two years ago I might have less than a half dozen new workings in it. I had thought maybe I had fallen behind on what I should do. I love this topic, because it has provided me opportunity to think it through... I think I have done exactly enough. And there are other things to do with ritual. Often we celebrate the sabat/esbat; maybe do a visualization to draw upon its meaning and invoke its power in our lives.

I've come to believe that asking (or doing magick) for what we want/need can be part of personal responsibility. The gods/esses give us voice and the ability to direct our will. When we need something, we have the ability to do both mundane/magick things to make it happen. I don't belive that we are limited by the god/esses within ethical boundaries. For me, it's more like I had grow enough to know to ask. I had a hard time, for many years, reaching beyond my own self-imposed limits caused by shame and wounds of the past.

Furhtermore, for me magick is prayer with props. And often I no longer need the props. Instead, I seem to keep a running conversation with my Lady, whispering words or demanding needs as appropriate. I find the Universe tends to listen if I am bodacious and clear. Tentativeness does not get anywhere. And perhaps that where props are most useful, because they can focus intent and sometimes even multiply it. But I can't always be home in front of my altar when needs arise.

Major workings, for me, require major planning. I have a friend who needs a healing ritual in the fall. I talked it over with the woman who will maiden last night. Cameron will priest (she channels male energy amazingly well). We'll spend a lot of time working out our thoughts; I'll revisit a chakra balancing visualization I worked up four years ago. We'll all spend a lot of time thinking it through and we probably won't do the work until after Samhain. It's that serious of a working.

Shifting my thoughts a little: Sacred space may contain a very formal altar setting with all the elements, gods, goddesses, etc represented. Or it may be devoted to a specific need. Currently I have only a central candle with a spiral path drawn in dirt to represent my friend Truth Teller's passage to summerlands. Last night our little group at the house added pink/green candles charge with balance and harmony to see the griever's through this time. Each person present charged the candles with our intent -- the room fairly hummed before we were done. The candles will burn anytime we're home to tend them --and we envision them burning steadily in our own astral spaces.

I think sacred space becomes very individualistic. I have come to think of spaces in which I do therapy with my clients as sacred space. A place to touch the numinious and to tap into the archetypes of the universe to find the warriors, heroes, seekers within us all.

I do much less magick than I used to. I also include what I want "or better" to leave room for the universe's creative energy to provide things I haven't even thought of. Often it's not specific outcomes which I target, anyway. Like for the mourners for Truth Teller. I asked for balance and haromny so that each person's higher self, especially Priestess, can move through the process of mourning in their own ways and at all their own pace (nope, I'm not a fluffy bunny, but all thoughs have their place!). Spells like this I actually think of as "prayers with props".
Usually, I believe, our high selves know what we need to. So sending energy to higher self is often quite enough. Your own good intent reached the universe, for example, without your ever having worked magick, still resulted in a positive outcome simply because you put positive energy out there without forcing your own intent. Or at least, that can be one interpretation : )

I believe magick is much like a very strong herb. A little bit can go a long way.

Paganism and Christianity: Walking a Duel Path

As Truth Teller’s funeral looms over us all, I can’t help but pause to reflect upon duel paths. I was raised first Methodist then Church of Christ. I spent many years bearing tremendous burdens of guilt and seek absolution in repeated baptisms (four total) and always had the internal voice of castigation haunting me.

Cameron’s spirituality over the years provided a powerful influence upon my path of healing. I could not run from my Christian faith, no matter how much I wanted to leave it behind. Now I find myself weaving the various parts of my spirituality into a whole that provides me with the spiritual nourishment that carries me through times like these.

I admit I still cringe at altar calls do the unfaithful to confess their sins. And yet I did go through the rite of absolution in the Episcopalian Church. I do share in the rite of communion. I do find healing in Episcopalian rituals and the music of my childhood. And I have found spaces to reconcile my faith and religious practice.

I’m part of a Christian Gay email group. Last night I accidently let my signature line post to them – I usually delete it because I don’t want to offend. The response had a sentence that beautifully summarized my faith: "We are co-creators of our own selves, our own destinies, we co-create with God, with His approval; His Grace."

And over the years my burden of guilt has been mostly alleviated. I have come to see myself as a child of the universe born of Divinity and carrying that spark within.

The Last Spiral

The cycle of birth, death and rebirth is at the heart of paganism. Tonight Truth Teller stands on that spiral path that leads to the summerlands. Stories of Inanna, Persephone and Demeter, Lugh’s Crossing, Ishtar and Tammuz, Venus and Adonis, Isis and Osiris remind us of this eternal pattern. The wheel of the year, the Holly King and the Greenman all speak to that sacred space we call death. Like the labyrinth, the only way out is through the center.

Tonight Truth Teller walks the spiral ever inward. He leaves behind his body, destroyed by diabetes. He leaves behind this physical reality and the demands of the living. He takes with him the love of his wife, the love of his friends, and his higher self.

I carry away my memories of a man who could patiently wait for me to learn that not all men are scum. I will remember a man who was a safe friend. I carry the memory of man who had honor and love to offer his friends. A memory of man handfasting a woman he loved more than his own life. When I needed money to care for a puppy, he was there. When I needed to hear what I wanted to deny, he was there.

With this light, may Truth Teller find his way to the Summerlands. Tonight we cannot walk with him. It is a journey for Truth Teller alone and whatever concept of Deity he has come to know. May he know that he goes in perfect love and perfect trust. As all must go in our time, we release Truth Teller to go in your own time into the Summerlands.

So mote it be.

A Followup on the Dream

The dreaded call came this afternoon. Just before I was to have supervision at our clinic, Cameron called me to say she had talked to Priestess. As I stood in that lonely upstairs room, darkened by threatening storm clouds, Cameron said she had just gotten off the phone with Priestess. Determined to hold herself together, and to be strong for me, Cameron said that Priestess was about to meet with the palliative care/hospice team to determine best care for Truth Teller.

This once strong, beautiful man with graceful fingers and keen insight lies in a hospital bed, dependent on dialysis. He is missing seven fingers. Gangrene proceeds its way up his leg. Emaciated because his body cannot digest food, he is in agony and drugged to the point of having hallucinations. No wonder he could spirit walk.

Two years ago Cameron and I witnessed his second handfasting with Priestess. Knowing he would not live out a normal life expectancy, they promised to find each other again, vowing: "Around the wheel and down through the years." Tears came to my eyes.

Later, Cameron, Hermit and I witnessed Priestess' croning. Priestess asked to break with tradition and have her husband there. But he couldn't come because Truth Teller was ill that night. Other circles, other nights, other joys and other pains. Priestess and Truth Teller always had a place on the back porch for friends.

When I was so wounded that I decided all men were scum, Truth Teller's presence offered a safe friend. When I needed to learn to reconnect with men who had honor and love to offer their friends, he was there. When I needed a camera to take to my son's wedding, he had one. When I needed money to care for a puppy, he was there. When I needed to hear what I wanted to deny, he was there.

Tonight I will gather earth from garden. I'll draw a spiral in the earth and I place a lit candle in the center. May Truth Teller follow his path home to the summerlands. May he know we all honor him with perfect love and perfect trust.

So mote it be.

Dream: The Truth Teller

Truth Teller is one of those difficult people you can’t do without. I have only eaten out with him a few times because he is so picky about what he will eat and where. None of his food can touch. His toys and money belong to him and are kept completely separate and apart from his wife’s toys and money. While he did not begin his pagan path believing in Deity, he does worship the Holy Motherboard. Moreover, any computer will sit, beg or roll over to please him.

When Cameron and I were coming back from my eldest son’s marriage a few years ago, we were victims of trauma. A mother dog and her pups had gotten on the interstate and stopped traffic. I did not know why we were stopped, and inching forward, I hit a pup. Her back paw was broken. Alarmed, we found an emergency vet. Calling Truth Teller for help, he offered to cover up to $400 in vet bills. We had Bronte examined, and made the heart breaking decision to have her put down rather risk thousands in vet bills and future arthritis – the damage was that bad. My heart has never recovered from the loss of my puppy of four hours. I tear just writing about her. Truth Teller knew full well it would be years before we could pay him back.

Cameron and I broke up for an extremely painful six months, during our courtship, while she made decisions regarding her former wife. During that time, chaos happened and I found myself unemployed. That same week, Cameron and I began talking again. We met at Priestess' and Truth Teller's home, talking out the past and possibilities for the future. When Cameron left to tell her wife it was over, because her wife had made some unconscionable decisions, Truth Teller warned me that she might not be back. Such cautions over the years had mostly proved right, especially when I didn’t want to hear him. Indeed, that was the only time he was wrong. Because Truth Teller always spoke what needed saying, rather than I want to hear, he has become an archetype of my dream language. That is why I call him Truth Teller.

I had a dream several years ago in which I was driving on winding roads when I got a flat tire. I dreamed that I called Truth Teller, who came to get me. My car had been overfilled with books, which he helped me to got back to retrieve. Truth Teller had helped me recapture my own inner wisdom.

Today Truth Teller lies in a hospital bed with diabetes taking his life one body part at a time. Most of his fingers are gone. Now they are decided if they are going to remove a gangrene foot.

Last night I dreamed of Truth Teller. Cameron and I could not close a lower dresser drawer. We had tried for weeks, and I was entirely frustrated. Cats were sleeping on my work clothes. At last she mentioned it to Truth Teller, who offered to take a look. I was trying to sleep, but Cameron had put a cat in the bedroom who was crying, so I woke. In the dream, I was dozing in the bed when he came into the room and removed all the clothing, refolded it, and put it back. The drawer worked perfectly. He started to leave when I realized he had been there. Afraid he would get away before I could say anything, I ran through the kitchen and outside. He was driving Priestess’ old car, Mobie. He had started to back out of the driveway, and the headlights of the car caught my figure as I came out the door. I made a hugging motion with my arms and blew him a kiss. Truth Teller pulled back into the driveway and I ran to the car. I could his voice as clear as a bell as I thanked him for fixing the dresser drawer. Truth Teller hugged me and said good bye.

I do not have the gift of prophesy, but this dream is alarming.

Maid, Mother and Crone (with Enchantress and Warrior)

I remember reading Robert Jordan’s series The Wheel of the World and being amused by a young heroine who kept wishing for grey hair. As a wise woman, she felt that people would respect her a whole a lot more with a streak of grey; thus allowing them to overlook her youth when she gave them good answers.

While my words are not disregarded, there is truth in trusting the words of a mature woman over youth. While our society values youth, idolizing the young and expecting beauty to reside in a lack of wrinkles, we still seem to believe experience makes us better therapists, counselors, and village wise ones.

With these thoughts in mind, I created this created this collage. I wanted to honor all aspects of the goddess within.

Of course, in my house we are servants of the Goddess Bastet. Notice the image of a black cat on the collage. Liu is asleep in the art back, and Thor, the grey cat, oversees all.

Blessed be the furbabies, and we their servants.

So mote it be.

Christians and Pagans in the Waiting Room

I was at our teaching clinic the other day seeing clients when I overheard a conversation. A woman in the waiting room was explaining the meaning of a pentacle that she wore, relating it back to the four elements. She went on to discuss a number of explanatory things about Wiccans. Initially I was quite impressed. She obviously had studied and was a self-professed solitaire. However, her voice really carried, and I also soon noted the discomfort of other people in our waiting room.

It would have been a relief to go and talk shop with her. It has been quite some time since I had one of those conversations where sniff each other over and test the degree of flakiness. She certainly did not appear flaky which have been a relief in a world where most paganism I encounter is based upon “I read a book.” Yet I hung back. As a therapist in the clinic, I wanted to know if she was a client or was waiting for one.

I am relieved I held back, because the complaints began in short order. A lady paying at the window was muttering under her breath about wanting out of the waiting room. The office staff were commenting on how loud she was. I pointed out that she seemed to know her stuff, and they pointed out that I do too and don’t make it intrusive on others.

I’m saddened to still live in a world where freedom of religion does not include pagan. I’m equally saddened that many of my fellow pagans can be just as intrusive as the Christians that they criticize. Moreover, I was uncomfortable with the woman’s comments, “We believe” as if Wicca has a cohesive belief system. One of those statements was, “We believe that Jesus was not the product of immaculate conception, but was a wise prophet and teacher.” On the one hand, I have heard a former priestess make the same assertion about Jesus. On the other hand, I’ve never heard someone say immaculate conception did not happen. Indeed, I have my own ideas about how it could.

What I resented was the concept that being Wiccan is mutually exclusive to being Christian. While I don’t often discuss my Christian faith, it certainly shapes my life in equally powerful ways. I have found ways to balance my Christian and Pagan beliefs, which really is not a stretch when you consider the fact that Christians borrowed heavily for Pagans.

Unfortunately, my combined spirituality leads to problems. Pagans and Christians both criticize because I am not a purist. Nevertheless, I have long been accustomed to living in the margins. I am too old to care if people do not agree with my beliefs.

My Path to Wicca

I played the edges of the metaphysical world for some time before I met my first self professed witch. A technical writer in Atlanta, I had a lot of time on my hands waiting for our project to begin. A coworker told me about a metaphysical bookstore she though I would enjoy. I went to hear a man talk about reincarnation. While much of what he had to say sounded really hokey at the time, the experience stayed with me. Having found the bookstore, I returned for a what I then called a Halloween celebration which hosted free readings (fortune telling). Afterward, participants were invited to the parking lot for a Wiccan circle. My best friend Dell and I stepped in circle and were transformed. I knew I was called to be a priestess.

I don’t ordinarily see energy with eyes of this world, but I did that night. I saw the blue light of the circle as it was laid. I saw the blue flame come down and dance the blade of the priest’s athame. I was entranced with the circle. I began classes at the bookstore with Lord Galen Firestorm and called myself Weaver. I completed my classes and the year and a day requirement. I did not initiate with him because I did not believe his path was mine. So I continued to seek.

My seeking led me to another group, called the Grove of the Unicorns. Lady Galadrial was not accepting students, unfortunately. But she did arrange introduction at another bookstore where I met Lady Amber and Lord Alex. My best friend Dell accompanied me. I’ll never forget Alex sitting on the floor cross legged talking about listening to the change of seasons in the wind. I felt like I had come home. We became a part of their grove. My friend became Spinner and I was Weaver.

Wiccans are human and make mistakes. Especially when charismatic men with talent misrepresent their intentions and manipulate the truth. When I finally clued in to the damage my boyfriend had done behind my back, it was too late. Everyone believed him over me. I lost everything because of that man, including my home, my children, and my spiritual community. For six months I even lost my best-friend until she twigged to the danger of that former boyfriend. I turned in my crystal, a representation of my place in the Wiccan community, and moved to South Carolina to start over.

Some months later I received a formal apology from my former priest and priestess. My son called to say that he had been wrong. But the damage was done and I had moved on. I finally received that first initiation at the hands of Lady Gena Moonkist. I became Grace. Lady Moonkist created a ritual drama of the journey of Persephone. As I walked a spiral of lights, my eclectic community challenged me, stripping me of the past. As I stood before my priest who channeled Kali, I finally understood that divinity existed within me. It was the last amazing gift she gave me before my world blew apart yet again.

I’ve seen two priestess loose their faith. It is a grievous experience to watch such spiritual crisis. Due to illness, Lady Moonkist had to step away from her role as priestess for a while. I don’t know if she has found her path again. I bless her presence at the ritual and transformation she facilitated. At yet another pagan bookstore I found Lady Alauda.

Lady Alauda eventually announced that she was ready to give me my second degree and then did not show up at the next circle. I believe it was part of my challenge for second to tell the group members what had happened and to request the ritual. As flashy, beautiful and powerful as my first ritual had been, I did not expect the same for the second. I was over ready for the first, like a kid with her nose pressed against a door too long, which had become painful. The second degree was like having doors opened and simply gliding through. Unfortunately, Lady Alauda had lost her way. She disbanded her grove and sent us on our way. The new community was not my place. My partner and I left the group.

In the mean time, I began graduate school for marriage and family therapy. The journey transformed me again. I knew I wanted to be a priestess the first time I stepped in circle. There was nothing I wanted more than to be a third degree high priestess. I had looked to the leaders of groves and covens, and wanted to do the things they did. My calling was clear, but my path was not. Those were hard years of trial and disillusionment.

The eclectic circle of elders in our community once again gathered and they were the ones to guide me through the ritual of my third degree. I became Lady Grace Dreamweaver, Priestess and Daughter to the Gods. A loose collection of wise ones, representatives of our community, witnessed my third degree. Mine is not a path that traces its roots to a heritage or a hide bound tradition. I think of my calling as having become incorporated in with my journey to become a therapist. It has been a spiritual journey leading to a much broader path than I expected those many years ago. It took ten years for my path to spiral to that third degree. It has been several years since that ceremony. I continue my to feed my spiritual self with a loose collection of women of whom only a few would call themselves either pagan or Wiccan. Not at all what I envisioned when I was in Atlanta. Yet so much more than the restrictions of a grove or coven would ever embrace.