Summer Solstice

Litha is the longest day of the year when the sun is at his full might.  Therefore fire imagery is strong on this day.  A bonfire again is common.  Fire purifies the woe and the discord and gives warmth to life.  Common herbs are lavender (personal favorite), chamomile, and vervain.  Harvesting herbs on this night and drying them by the bonfire is said to increase potency in the herbs for magical workings.  White is a common color as is gold for the sun.  Many who use mirrors for magical dealings will cleanse and then absorb the midsummer magic into the mirrors for future use as well.  Summer fruits of course provide the menu—cherries, apricots, and plums for example are tasty at any time this day.  My ritual bowl was brimming with them.

In the past I have performed full blown rituals, rituals outside, simplified rituals at a campground as well as shared rituals with friends in the backyard which entailed burning packets of summer herbs while pouring all of the negativity I felt at the time into the little packet and watching it get cleansed by the fire.  There are many possibilities, but I must say I really enjoy being outside for this ritual rather than in the basement where most of my rituals occur.  Being in a short season for outdoor rituals area Litha is typically one of those celebrations that I relish the opportunity to be outside making merry.  I would really have preferred to be out of town for solstice--somewhere in the mountains.  Alas!  I have workshops all week and couldn't get out of city limits this year.

If I am inside though, I will use a green candle for the Goddess and gold candle for the God on my altar as well as either a white or a gold cloth.  Outdoors though, I cut way back on the accoutrement.  The idea is the same however—asking that the God cleanse what isn’t currently working and thank the Goddess for her continued energy to propel forward what is working.

Blazing God, I feel the fire of your passion burning in all life.
Mother Goddess I see the earth full to bursting with the fruit of your bounty.
On this night of unequaled magic
Fires flame to their zenith in the Lord and Lady’s combined joy.

This is when I would place the summer herbs into the white packet and tie it with a red ribbon.  On the paper used as an envelope I would write what I see going well and what needs a bit of cleansing.

Midsummer fire burning bright
Take these items from my life and world
Purify them in the Lord’s fervent light.


Midsummer fire glowing sight
Take these items from my life and world
Nourish them to the Lady’s delight.

Simple feast and thanks then close.

Please Allow Me to Introduce My Brain

I apologize for not posting for a few weeks.  I fully intended to do so.  However my mind prefers to continually race at unearthly speeds thereby devouring so much information that at times it overwhelms me.  Consequently, I have been at a loss of where to begin.  That said, I’ll say the crux of this post plainly.

I don’t believe in God.

The story that kicked off this most recent introspection on faith happened to be about a Mormon woman whose husband told her quietly before bed that he no longer believed.  This deeply moving article provided a different perspective for me.  I have read countless stories about Catholics who no longer believe, but this was the first by a Mormon that I have read.  The tone of the article touched me to my core.    Her tale reflects what is so often overlooked or disregarded—we disbelievers spend a great deal of time pondering this notion.  It does not just occur.  We reflect, we pray, we consider, we study and ultimately we use the magnificent lump of grey matter in our skulls to reason out what we truly believe about spirituality and our place in the universe. We can reach a conclusion that may not agree with everything that we’ve been taught to believe up to that point, but we made the choice for ourselves and guess what?  We can do it peacefully without condemning or harassing others who still believe.  As we close the door on the church we’ve always known, we also open doors to new kinds of equally valuable relationships.

What astonished me the most this week involved the number of articles that described clergy men and women who are leaving their faiths and discovering comfort in some of those new and valuable relationships.  If people who have dedicated their lives to delivering God’s message can find themselves doubting to the point they describe themselves as atheist—what does that say about the state of faith in America?  This is the flipside to that coin that keeps getting thrown around when policy decisions run up against religion.  The Clergy Project provides a much needed network of support for these people who find themselves ostracized and threatened and suddenly without security of home and finance.  In the CNN article, Dewitt raises an interesting point: he’s still ministering, just a little differently than he used to.  How beautiful is that?  It acknowledges that his ministering changed over time as his understanding and belief changed, but he’s still ministering to people in need.  Clearly we can still be compassionate and loving counselors to one another even without deferring to a supreme being.  The Clergy Project started with about 52 members last year.  It now lists 285 on its homepage.  With the coverage it has been receiving, I bet it continues to grow.  The clergy men and women are fortunate to have this connection and I hope that it continues to assist them.  Each story I’ve read lately includes a common thread beyond the loss of faith; they include a lack of animosity toward the religion they leave—even toward the members of their congregation who threaten them.

The lack of animosity suggests to me that these people truly spent time deep in contemplation about their beliefs and therefore reached peace in their decision.  I too am at that point.  While it would be easy for me to cite the priest abuse scandal or the Vatican’s war on nuns as reasons for anger and be perfectly justified in that outrage, I tend not to take that tack.  Don’t get me wrong—both of those situations are horrifying to me, but I can forgive them and be completely thankful that I do not recognize the infallibility of the Pope.  That lump of grey matter in my skull tells me holding on to anger about these situations would serve no purpose.  While these two situations appall me and revolt me, they are not the only reasons why I will not describe myself as Catholic.  Greta Christina posted a fantastic article about the topten reasons she doesn’t believe in God and I tend to agree with the article wholeheartedly. I’ve read a couple of articles from Big Think lately about how we continue to discover consciousness as part of the brain, not a soul gifted us by God.  Through MRIs and photon emission computed topography now we know that prayer and meditation and speaking in tongues affect the brain in very specific ways—it alters our consciousness.  If someone wants to call that evidence of God moving through them, fine. However I do not.  When I am deep in meditation or visualization I know I am tapping into a part of my brain that apparently is dedicated specifically for this purpose and it produces some amazing sensations and experiences. To me though, it’s not some supernatural supreme entity saying “Hi!” It’s my brain doing something that takes a lot of practice to do.  It feels amazing and euphoric and it benefits my health and well being therefore I do it.  It’s no wonder that humans created all these amazing lush stories to explain this effect.  It’s no wonder we created fantastical myths to explain the world around us and all of its beauty.  Yet now we know other explanations exist.  There are no turtles supporting the world.  There is no Mount Olympus where Zeus rules all.  There are no demons at the core of our planet; it’s made of our original Earthly core and a gigantic Mars-sized pseudo planet that hit Earth a really long time ago causing both Earth’s axis tilt and the formation of the moon.

My husband and I also recently began watching Carl Sagan’s Cosmos on Netflix.  I love a little brain stimulation about the universe and he likens it to Mr. Rogers in space.  In one of the early episodes they show an experiment that uses just the essential, basic gases like helium being squirted into a glass container and guess what happens?  Given enough time those gases combine to create the primordial sludge of life.  Hmm…ponderous is it not?  Allow that brown goo some more time and those little bacteria etc. will begin the process of evolution.  I do not believe in Adam and Eve.  It’s a lovely tale, but it’s not how things happened.

I’m sure you might be wondering how I can call myself a solitary Wiccan given this perspective.  Surely there must be a different label that better fits.  Well, believe it or not paganism and specifically for me Wicca fit the best in my understanding of the universe so far.  Granted I am heavily influenced by the works of cosmology like Carl Sagan and I disregard a lot of dogma that some schools of Wicca insist upon.  There's that lump of grey matter at work again.  You see, from studying the universe I have learned the moon was part of earth.  Now it’s not and without it, our planet would wobble around worse than a bowl full of jelly.  Our climate would be uncontrollable and we’d probably die soon after the moon goes away.  The moon stabilizes this beautiful planet.  It controls the tides so our land masses are not almost completely submerged by water.  It provides the gravity we need to stay on just the right tilt to the sun.  The sun also exerts a little gravitational pull to keep us in the sweet spot.  Thanks to this lovely balance life as we know it exists.  Pagans got this part right—the sun and moon help us thrive.  Without either one, we’d perish.  I believe in the power of nature and that magical thinking is enough.  

In Harm's Way

I’ve been grappling with how to put my thoughts into words for this post all weekend.  This topic is one that I don’t take lightly and one that weighs on my conscience heavily.  You see, today is Memorial Day.

Last week my mom asked if we were interested in doing anything for Memorial Day as in a barbecue or family dinner.  I declined citing my regularly scheduled Monday night classes.  Of course, that’s only part of the reason I wouldn’t want a barbecue.

Memorial Day was one of those holidays growing up that I never fully understood I suppose.  There was innocence to it.  It meant that I didn’t have school and that school in fact was almost out for the summer.  In high school it meant that there would be an invitation for us band members to play at the cemetery.  It meant that we would hopefully have decent weather for all the events that would be scheduled for outdoors as the summer season kicked off its shoes and basked in the light of the sun.

But that’s not what it’s really about.

This photo blog appeared in my news stream this morning.  These photographs bring gravity to the day for me.  They show people.  Soldiers yes, but people first and foremost.  People who, for the most part, had no choice but to go into military service thanks to the draft.  Some of course volunteered readily I am sure.  All of them did what was their duty according to the expectation of the time.  However, these pictures ask us to look beyond the idealized and romanticized concept of the hero soldier and to see the human in the fatigues.  The human who chanced to meet Marilyn Monroe, the human who stared down the bell of a sousaphone and was not deafened, the human in a moment of solitude taking a whack at the golf ball in the open air and the humans finding time for a bit normalcy in video games in a place that in no way represents what we here in America see on a normal day.  However, for those in the military, these images represent stolen moments of calm amongst otherwise horrific and impossible situations.

A friend of mine who is in the military and who has served multiple tours in the Middle East posted this snippet from The Blaze.  My friend and his military buddies of course were offended by the pundits’ discussion.  Unfortunately, I think my friend’s emotional gut reaction of how he sees himself and his fellow service members interfered with his hearing the actual discussion.  The pundits aren’t trying to insult the individuals.  They aren’t trying to demean in any way the job the military personnel are commanded to do.  It seems to me that these pundits are attempting a conversation on the efficacy of a policy that is tossing about a word that bears a tremendous force: hero.  For them, the panel members on this show, the word hero is losing its significance because the nation has been in sustained conflicts for its longest period in our history.  Our national policy has become one of war and devastation for the service members as well as the civilians.  The constant din of the War Machine numbs us to the actuality of the war itself.  The pundits may not be expressing themselves very well and my friend and other military personnel may not listen beyond the notion that these talking heads are reluctant to use the word hero to describe the military, but the point is important.  We’ve been doing this war thing so long that we are becoming desensitized to what it all means.  We’ve created countless heroes; so many that the word itself no longer holds the impact or meaning that it once did.  We lack the words to describe the countless deaths of soldiers both on foreign soil and at home.  We lack an accurate word for a man whose vehicle is blown up as he drives along a desert road.  We lack an accurate word for the woman hit by a stray bullet.  We lack a word for human lost in despair from all that still toils inside even though the tour of duty ended.  Hero used to connote something, but because of the constancy of overseas entanglements we run the risk of losing that meaning.  Perpetuating the hero archetype seems to lead to condoning the act of war—condoning the act of putting soldiers and civilians alike in positions of intolerable cruelty where they lose their humanity bit by bit.

Think I’m wrong?  Recently a top military officer unleashed a firestorm for calling the suicides by military personnel selfish.  I used to think that suicide was selfish.  It was one way I could keep myself from committing suicide because to me, I didn’t want to be selfish.  I didn’t think of myself as selfish.  Somehow, I don’t think the military men and women thought of themselves as selfish either.  I find it difficult to believe that these individuals would have thought about suicide if they had not first been in a position of war. I cannot fathom the torturous moments these people endured both in war and at home.  I know my cousin returned home from the first Iraqi war changed.  Not only did he display symptoms of the nebulous Gulf War Syndrome, but his wife would frequently find him shaking uncontrollably under the bed.  Sometimes he’d scream out in his sleep.  A friend of mine struggles to maintain his every day life after serving in the current Middle East conflict.  His Post Traumatic Stress impedes his ability to live a life of quiet contentment.  It disrupts his family’s sense of unity.  He is forever a changed man.  Numerous stories exist about the human cost of war.  These real stories run counter to the idealized hero soldier we who never go to war want to believe in so deeply.  They question that iconic coming home and feeling safe once again in the knowledge that what was achieved served a greater purpose and all is right now that the soldier is home.  These men and women have lived through an ordeal none can fully appreciate unless we’ve been there ourselves.  The image of hero is changing. 

I suppose that is what is so devastating.  We want to hold up these individuals for the duty they have performed.  We want to celebrate them for doing something few of us want to do.  We want them to know on the one hand we value them and that we  remember, but what do we really remember?  If we knew all about PTSD and suicide rates of soldiers would we be so cavalier about allowing our elected officials to send more humans into battle and think that a parade and a “thank you” now and then is enough?  Calling them heroes—is that enough to somehow be ok with the fallout?  I cannot help but think we as humans must evolve to another form of settling our conflicts because if we keep going to war we will never fully remember what that means. 

Humans are resilient.  Humans are resourceful.  Humans are capable of fantastic feats of compassion, empathy, creation and cooperation.  When I remember our military on this day, it is with sincere gratitude and hope that their ultimate sacrifice will one day no longer be necessary.

Even If Your Religion Says It's Right, It's Not

Sometimes I just want to smack someone up alongside their head when they say things like two people shouldn’t get married because religion says so.  Of course, that impulse is not keeping with do no harm right?  It’d be giving in to violent urges that really won’t help me make my case even if it would feel so good sometimes.  If you haven’t heard, North Carolina became the latest state to enact a law banning same sex humans from getting married because after all, that is something a law should decide right?  We should have a law that eliminates the hope of humans to pursue their happiness.  We should have a law that places one group higher and more worthy of privilege than another group right?  If someone says their religion defines marriage as one man and one woman than the opposition just needs to shut up and back off.  Invoking religion as an excuse to limit someone else’s pursuit of happiness is exactly what we should do.

Except we shouldn’t.

Ever.

A friend of mine pointed out that the last time North Carolina amended their state constitution was to ban interracial marriage.  Apparently they learned nothing from that experience.  They have forgotten the lessons taught about races and how that minuscule difference on our DNA that makes us one race and not another has absolutely no effect on intelligence or ability or competence.  It’s so tiny that in discussing the differences between humans it is largely irrelevant when considering humans as a species.  Consequently, we finally got it through some people’s thick noggins that skin color is really a stupid reason to keep people from pursuing their happiness with another person or from fulfilling their fullest potential.  When considering the biology of humans, I am willing to wager that differences between a homosexual human and a heterosexual human are even less noticeable.  Is this really the best Americans can do as humans—say I’m better than you because my religion says I am?  Preposterous!

I have no problem with people who aren’t comfortable around homosexuals.  I have no problem with people who believe in a religion.  I do have a lot of friends who fall into one or both categories.  They are entitled to their own right to privacy and religion yada yada yada.  However, when it comes to establishing laws based on religious doctrine that restrict the basic human rights of others such as the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness I get pissed.  Those human rights include equality before the law.  Therefore, if your church doesn’t want to perform a marriage for a homosexual couple, fine.  They don’t have to.  However when it comes to living in a secular society as we do, we should never vote on a basic human right like freedom of liberty to marry whoever the hell you want.  Period!

Now I heard an interesting counter to this idea of marriage as a human right.  Someone suggested that  marriage may not really be a human right.  Could it be a man made institution instead?  I actually shook my head in an attempt to understand exactly what this point was.  Somehow shaking my head vigorously would rattle my marbles into alignment to understand this notion.  Where is this distinction?  Huh?  Human rights are those items that humans agree upon as basic entitlements to everyone because they are human beings.  Marriage is not an expression of freedom of pursuing life and liberty and happiness and expression and thought?  WHAT?  Everything around us in society is a man made construct for cryin’ out loud and that includes human rights since humans are involved.  Le Duh!  After the horrors of World War II the world agreed that human beings needed to band together to protect the lives of all people who are oppressed because of gender, religion, race, and sexuality.  Do we need a homosexual holocaust to make it plain to everyone or can we agree that isn’t necessary?  There are simply some violations that humanity cannot allow to persist especially under the guise of religious freedom.  Religion is after all, a man made construct too.  I honestly do not see how one can be divorced from the other and used as a defense for legislated bigotry.  Freedom of speech protects even the most horrible statements.  People are free to practice whatever religion they want.  However when those beliefs are used to target a specific group and limit their rights to equality under the law, humans need to speak up and call bullshit. 

Religion can be beautiful.  Religions can provide a sound basis for living a good and a just life.  However when religion is used to justify oppression then it becomes a bastardization of its core belief.  When it comes to writing laws for America, religion should not enter into the discussion.  Boiling the religion out of the rules and focusing on the core ethics of the belief system reveals something remarkable; something that I have believed for years as I have been studying and pondering religions and spirituality.  All major world religions believe in some form of the Golden Rule.  Do unto others as you would have done to you.  If the tables were turned, would heterosexuals be ok being told they can’t marry?  Would they quietly accept “civil union” as an appropriate compromise?  They shouldn’t even have to consider it because we are all humans with the right to life and liberty and the pursuit of happiness.  If two women want to get married how does that harm anyone?  If two men want to say, “I do” before a crowd of their loved ones who is harmed?  No one!  You don’t have to like it.  Your religion doesn’t have to perform it.  But your laws damned well better protect their right to marry because it’s the only just course of action.  

Neil Diamond: Spiritual Guru

Hopefully any Beltane activities were blessed and beautiful for everyone.  Mine shaped up to be quite an epiphany.  I did not intend this to happen; it just did.  I've spent a lot of time trying to figure out Beltane.  I get the symbolism.  I get the Great Rite--big personal fan of that concept.  However, I strive to maintain the balance of Beltane with the temperance of avoiding an all out orgy-astic depravity-filled bacchanalia--I want it to be personally meaningful in other words.  So as my last post suggested I wrote and performed my own ritual.  However, I did not feel as though I had truly uncovered the deeper meaning of Beltane.
I've studied Beltane cognitively.  I've always enjoyed the reports of schools where dancing around the Maypole is a class activity with a little smirk of knowledge.  I've snickered about May Day baskets that my niece or nephew make because I know that these symbols have become different over time just as so many pagan traditions.  They're not lesser mind you--just different significance for some than others. If you don't know, Beltane is all about the Sun God and the Maiden Goddess finally seeing one another across a crowded field and falling madly into the grasses consummating their union in the Great Rite so that life can begin anew.  Is there any greater holiday than one devoted to lovemaking?  Valentine's Day doesn't have anything on Beltane.
The whole Great Rite thing can easily get distorted and maligned as debauchery.  However, last night after ritual, I felt more centered.  I cast my circle, I invoked the deity images, I recited the poem, I even added a dash of off-the-cuff inspired words of gratitude and hope and oneness with the Earth.  As I ate those strawberries I delighted in their tart yet sweet juicy lusciousness.  As I drank the wine I felt energy flowing and reminding me that spring is an amazing time of hope and light and life!  It helped me get my center back.  It'd been a trying couple of weeks at work and in my personal life.  I have been feeling quite defeated, useless, frustrated.  Then ritual just snapped me into balance.  But something was not quite right yet.
I felt better.  I did.  However I just had that sensation that something was missing.  I didn't have that Eureka moment.  I had not suddenly discovered enlightenment about Beltane.
Then I came upstairs to find my husband on Facebook.
I adore my husband.  I've known him for over 20 years. In high school I did something very teenagerish and sent him a mixed tape--yes TAPE!  This was back in the day of cassettes.  You see, he had moved to the desolate plains of the Midwest and he took my fragile young heart with him.  So I did what any good teenage girl would do.  I made him a mixed tape of the sappiest, the most lovelorn, the can't be beaten love songs of my life thus far that included such heart-wrenching tracks as as "Somebody" by Depeche Mode and "Lovesong" by The Cure.  However, there was one song in particular that I put on there that I didn't think he'd know or have any connection to.  I honestly didn't think that based on what I knew about him at the time that he would even know who this artist was.  I was wrong and very glad to be wrong as well.  I put "Play Me" by Neil Diamond on the tape.
Now at the time I had no real frame of reference for the obvious sexual intent in the song.  It was just me being caught up in the glory of Neil's voice and that longing to just be held by my husband who at the time was miles away and for all I knew not thinking about me.  All of my friends will tell you--he gives great hugs. Always has.  I missed his hugs.  I missed feeling like the most beautiful girl when he looked at me.  I missed feeling him kiss me.  I missed him being with me.
Anyway, I come upstairs after ritual and he's on Facebook commenting on a video a friend of his posted which just happened to be "Play Me" set to these beautiful images of sunsets and scenery that were so calming I was swept away.  Then I saw his comment about the mixed tape and how I had included that song on it.  I started to cry.  I couldn't help it!  I'm not a cry type gal mind you, but I was just overwhelmed to come  up from ritual and see this scene unfold before me.
Suddenly--I got it.  I understood what Beltane is about for me.  For us--my husband and me really.  Beltane is about celebrating that love. For the big picture it is all about the Lord and Lady consummating their union to bring forth new life to the world.  We have no intention of bringing forth new life as in baby mind you.  Nope.  Not happening.  However Beltane at that moment was a beautiful expression of reminiscing about our history together and that innocence.  Recalling how much we as teenagers loved one another and didn't really understand the full scope of those feelings.  Swaying together and singing along with Neil: "I am the sun, you are the moon.  I am the words, you are the tune, play me."  Beltane meant celebrating our love and life together because it's been one hell of a journey.
Ritual was complete.

Beltane

Beltane

Cleanse the space and place a rosy pink cloth on the altar.  Adorn with flowers of all kinds.  Place a rosy pink candle for the ritual light.  Have a red and a white candle as well anointed with lavender.  Carve a symbol for the Goddess on the red and a God symbol on the white.  Set on altar on the appropriate sides of the space.  Maybe drink a fruit infused tea for preparation of self.  Have a sparkling wine—apple is a Goddess symbol here—and some luscious berries and creamy cheeses for the Simple Feast.  Once all is set, begin.

Cast circle

Blessing Chant

            Creative energies of Mother Earth,

            Join together with the Lady of the Moon,

            The Hunter of the Land,

            Spirits of the elemental realms,

            Within the sacred stones

            Bless this place, this time and I who am with you.

                        (adapted from S. Cunningham)

Invoke the Goddess and the God

            Mistress of love and fertility, I call upon you Maiden!  Be with me on this Beltane night.  Light the red candle.

            Champion of the forest and land, I call upon you Sun God!  Be with me in Beltane’s light.   Light the white candle.

Prayer of Beltane

Fearless Maiden of the Forest, explore in solitude spring’s path before you.

Youthful Lord of the sun wanders alone until May’s trail turns true.

Together your paths weave on sacred course.

A union blessed and consummated

Brings forth Earth’s fertile celebration of life!

These two are one and one is all,

In Beltane’s fire, passions rise and fall,

United with you, at creation’s ball,

By the law of three, so mote we be!

Simple Feast

Joyous Maiden fill this wine with your love,

Blazing Lord instill in this fruit your desire,

In the name of Maiden and Sun I bless this feast!

Release circle

           Enjoy the Great Rite with someone you love and revel in the beauty of the act of lovemaking as it is sacred, creative, and blessed. 

And the Award For Most Heretical Activity This Weekend Goes To...

My goddaughter received the trifecta of sacraments recently.  In our diocese second graders are now the recipients of reconciliation, communion and confirmation all at once.  When I went through them it was a progression—second grade=communion, fourth grade=reconciliation, and junior year was confirmation.  My misgivings and disagreement with the change of confirming second graders who probably don’t really appreciate all that confirmation means aside, this was my niece’s big day.  She had on a gorgeous little white satin dress with pearl accents, white tights, and low heel sandals along with a flower in her hair unlike the other girls who almost all opted to wear veils.  I, as her godmother, attended my first Catholic-non funeral mass in ages.

Attending mass with the family always brings up pesky questions like, “Will I be struck by lightning when I walk in” or “How big of a deal will this be to my mother” or “Do I receive communion?”  All of these run through my head whenever I consider attending mass.  My mom did make the joke about how the building didn’t get burnt down when my husband and I walked in.  Now, I choose to believe that this was a lighthearted ribbing.  I could be overly sensitive and react to it indignantly, but what’s the point?  Far better to look at it as a simple joke.  So I do.  Then there was communion—to receive or not to receive.  Such a quandary.  At the Methodist church I attended some years ago, the minister always made a statement that all present were welcome at God’s table meaning that even if you haven’t received the Catholic required sacrament of first communion or even if you were from a different church or faith, you should still feel welcome to partake.  No such statement at this mass even though the Catholic viewpoint is that any Christian is welcome.  I was listening for the invite too, but it never came.

 Interesting point if you don’t know, but Catholics actually believe in the mystery that the bread and wine is transformed into the body and blood of Christ.  I know plenty who don’t really believe that, but that is also the official stance of the sacrament and is one of the qualifying rules for receiving communion.   You must believe it or you shouldn’t receive communion.   Rather grody if you consider it.  Church sanctioned cannibalism?  Ew!  No thank you!  For those of us less inclined toward literal interpretation, it’s a symbolic ritual. I found an article that provides a succinct explanation of the rules regarding communion.  Despite the fact that I satisfied almost none of those rules, I went to receive the body of Christ anyway.  Maybe it was stubbornness, but there's definitely more to it than flipping the bird at the ways of the Catholic Church.  I didn't do it as an affront at all.  I'll get into more of the actual reason in a minute.  Until then, enjoy a little trip down memory lane with me.

Growing up, my dad would always stand off to the side of the pew and allow my mom, my sister and I to go up the aisle first; it was a rather gentlemanly gesture on his part.  During this service though, he waited for mom, but not for me to join the line and walk up to the altar.  I didn’t really think much on it until later.  Was this some sort of slight?  Was my father willfully excluding me by closing the gap and not waiting for me?  Maybe, but again I tend to think better of him than that.  I want to believe that it was just due to his not having been to service with me in a while and he’s out of practice.  It honestly didn’t strike me as anything otherwise until much later in the day when I was reflecting on the day; then I had to wonder.  Either way though, it really doesn’t matter why he did it because he is free to express his opinion one way or the other.  I would rather believe well about him though and therefore I won’t read anything into it more than what it was.  I can’t imagine him intentionally doing something like that to hurt me.  So, I received communion much to my husband’s surprise. 

Now, if you read that article up above, receiving communion in the Catholic Church means a lot. It means you are to meet those criteria and if you don’t, you offend God by receiving communion.  Hmm…the rafters didn’t shake or come crashing down.  The priest didn’t ask me if I had sinned lately and I didn’t have to present an ID for communion.  Did I offend God?  According to church teaching yes I did.  My bad.  However, I liken communion to the portion of a circle called cakes and ale.  Giving thanks for the bounty and ingesting food and drink to ground us and to balance us is not unlike taking in the body and blood except there’s no ritual cannibalism by (*gasp)magic nor is there purity control prior to ingestion beyond preparation of self.  If I was to participate in a circle with non-Wiccans present, I would invite them to partake of my simple feast.  I would gladly welcome them in the celebration.  I guess that is something I wanted my goddaughter to see.  Even though her aunt doesn’t attend church, she can still eat at God’s table.  I don’t want her growing up thinking that God doesn’t welcome all of his children to be present with Him.    I don’t think Christ would’ve turned someone like me away.  One of the things the priest made clear when I went through confirmation classes was that it’s not for me to judge anyone else’s commitment or worthiness—that was up to God to handle.  So if my mom meant more by her dig or if my dad really did intend to exclude me, that’s their right, but it’s also their problem to resolve with God.  As for me, I’ve examined my conscience and I’ve reasoned it through and I cannot say for certain—neither can anyone else—what is in God’s mind.  I know that when I heard God or Lord etc during mass, I would mentally add Goddess or Lady as well.  I know that after studying and considering all the angles and information set before me that the image of God I want my goddaughter to know is one of love and acceptance of all.  Most importantly, I do not want her to turn up her nose in judgment to anyone of another faith or belief all the while insisting that she and the other Catholics had cornered the market on rightness.  Knowing why you agree or disagree with a religion’s teachings is vital in my opinion.  While I am sure she has no idea yet why  this would even be an issue for me or my parents or anyone else, at least she will have the memory that I was there for her big day and I did participate in all aspects of the service without a holy bolt of smite striking me down.  One day she may be ready for the conversation, but not yet.

Strictly speaking, I am a rampant heretic.  I have offended God gravely.  I should rush to confession.  Yet, here I sit ruminating, writing, editing and feeling quite at peace with things as they are.   Honestly, how and why do those self-described Catholic-Pagans do this?  When I read that article up above, it reminded me of all the rules regarding communion and what it means to be Catholic.  It reminded me of all I had learned growing up by passing through the sacraments.  Now after 20 or so years of meditations on the topic I believe that religions can provide beauty and wonder and morals.  I believe that the mythology of religions can be highly instructive tools for young people to learn how to listen to and follow their conscience.  They can also be very destructive tools to promote misogyny and abuse and bigotry.  I do not believe that the Catholic Church is home for me.  I’ll just pack up my heretical tools and keep moving through this existence as best I can with as much love as I can for all people, even those who disagree or judge me.  I have no need to be right in this argument.  That’s not important to me.  What is important to me is knowing who I am and why I make the choices I make regardless of any mythology.  That way, if my goddaughter is ever ready for that conversation, I can engage her with the benefit of my experience and deeply reasoned beliefs.