Who are your Gods? Neopagans are usually pretty good at answering this question. In fact many of us can, at the drop of a hat, rattle off a litany of Deific names along with attached Divine portfolios. Hermes is the God of merchants (and thieves); Hestia, Goddess of the hearth; Thor, God of thunder; and of course Dionysos with a resume longer than the spice road. But how often do we ask the more fundamental question, "What are your Gods?"
Are They sort of like other people, only with vast cosmic power, especially dysfunctional families and really cool jobs? Or are They more like masks that a singularly secretive transcendental force puts on when He/She/It feels like slumming with the masses? Or are They just stories we tell ourselves to maintain some air of mystery in the world? Or are They none of the above?
The best I can do to describe Divinity (as I see It) is this:
All Gods and Goddesses are parts of a (divided and systemically integrated) Divine Principle which pervades and governs the entire universe. They manifest in uncountable aspects, but are also recognizable as a more abstract duality: The Lord and Lady. These two are personifications of all the interactions that make up the cosmos, from the Big Bang to molecular chemistry.
They are nature itself, and They are the laws that nature follows. That includes human nature, by the way. They are as evident in the human condition as They are in the forests and fields of the wild earth. They are a continuum that encompasses both the psychological and the cosmological. They are the arc of the planets and the ache of the heart. Divinity is a spirit distilled from the whole of the world and every soul therein. It is liquor too heady to gulp, and each sip provides but a hint of Its true taste. Every inhalation of Its aroma reveals only an aspect of a bouquet too complex to ever fully fathom. It’s a fog you can drown in, a deafening stillness, blinding in both Its light and darkness, an unscalable depth.
And yes, that really IS the best I can do. Stop laughing.
To tell the truth, It's hard for me to really talk much about Divinity without resorting to purple prose or bad poetry. That might be why labels are so numerous in religion. They isolate and quantify things that are otherwise hard to put into words, or that tend to leave the speaker moonstruck. That might be the best point in favor of theological jargon, in fact. In addition to being rife with polysyllabic high-dollar words, it's a way to talk about Divinity without getting drunk off of a bottle of lyrical metaphors. The only problem is that none of the popular corks seem to fit our bottle.
Of course, we don't actually need any labels, not really. Ferris Beuller didn't believe in "isms" and he did all right. It doesn't hurt to browse, though. It can be fun and useful to examine ourselves in the context of different worldviews, and that's something that theological classifications really might be good for. Placing Wicca into the traditional spectrum of theology isn't going to be easy, though.
It seems that Wiccan and/or Neopagan beliefs about Divinity are always being shoved into one of the existing theological pigeonholes, regardless of how poorly the shapes match up. We are often classified as polytheists or pantheists, and those aren't completely inaccurate, but sometimes the labels are way off. I've been called an atheist a few times (ironically, by people who believe in fewer Gods than I do) and some Wiccans have actually described themselves as monotheists, but that's obviously an unusual interpretation. Sometimes we get even more exotic labels like "Panentheism" or "duotheism" or "bitheism/ditheism." Frankly, I'm not entirely happy with any of the choices so far.
Let's break it down. I'm not a monotheist because I believe in multiple Deific personifications, but I'm not exactly a polytheist because I believe that all those are aspects of one God and one Goddess. I'm not really a dualist because I see even the God and Goddess as ultimately unified into one (ineffable) Divine essence. Pantheism isn't too far off and I like that it acknowledges the Divinity of nature, but it doesn't communicate enough detail to be useful as far as I'm concerned. There's still too much poetry to uncork afterward.
So what can I call my theological system? I need a term that expresses the fundamental characteristics that I believe Divinity possesses without implying beliefs I don't subscribe to.
I've seen the phrase "Soft Polytheism" attached to beliefs like mine before. I can't say I like it. Intentionally or not, the addition of the modifier seems to convey that it's a "softened" form of traditional polytheism. I'm not sold on that. If anything, I'd say the approach represents a more rigid examination, since it can provide an explanation for how individual Deities have varied across related cultures. "Soft" just isn't going to work for me.
There might be another adjective that would do better, however. Something that actually describes the way my beliefs differ from other kinds of polytheism. "Holistic" might work. Holism emphasizes relationships and systems over individual components. It indicates a belief that looks beyond collected parts to see an integrated whole. A Holistic Polytheist would acknowledge multiple Deific identities, but would also see Them as part of a unified Divine. Plus, "holistic" is a name-brand top-shelf adjective. Nice and fancy. I like it. I can live with being tagged as a Holistic Polytheist.
Something still seems to be missing, though. Even with "holistic" and "polytheistic", we're not really nailing down the unique particulars of Wiccan theology. We still haven't addressed the question of Divinity being polarized into God and Goddess or of the Divine being immanent in nature. While both of these beliefs can be accommodated within the idea of Holistic Polytheism, neither is implied by the label. We need more detail if we're going to keep me out of the blank verse. Another "ism" might be in order.
Pantheism has a lot going for it. It describes a relationship between Divinity and nature that I can really get behind. What it lacks is a formal acknowledgment of the polarization in Divine forces. It's fine to say that "God is all", but it leaves too much unsaid, in my opinion. Traditional pantheism isn't too much better at communicating my belief in immanent Divinity than traditional polytheism was at describing my belief in Divine aspects. Maybe we should unpack our adjectives again.
We need a word that can do for pantheism what “holistic” did for polytheism; a modifier that clarifies without diluting. We’re looking for a way to indicate that the Divinity immanent in the whole of nature can be split into two separate (but still systemically connected) halves. After a bit of rummaging, I think I have just the thing. It’s an underused, yet highly descriptive word with nice wholesome Latin roots. It literally means "Split into two parts." I therefore propose that the particular brand of pantheism that I (and many other Neopagans) subscribe to ought to be called “Bifurcated Pantheism.” We can apply for the trademarks tomorrow.
So there we have it. Bifurcated Pantheism meets Holistic Polytheism. There’s plenty of syllables to chew on and a good chance to send any dismissive amateur theologian scrabbling for his dictionary of terms. And if that fails, we can always fall back on the poetry.
November 18, 2009
November 4, 2009
Descent of the Goddess
A few people have asked me about the myth I referred to in Tuesday's post, so I decided to do a little followup.
First, The Descent isn't really just one myth, but rather a theme that occurs in several myths and myth-inspired stories. The oldest example may be the Sumerian myth relating the descent of the Goddess Inanna into the land of the dead. There's also a specifically Wiccan gloss of the story which can be found in Gardnerian sources. At NCPCOW's Samhain ritual this year we presented our own version in the form of a narrated pantomime, combining elements from both of these.
The story touches on some important points. The start of the seasonal cycle that I mentioned in my original post is one, of course. The integration of Divine powers is another, represented in the Sumerian account by the twin Goddesses Innana and Erishkigal. The structure of initiation is a third, and this is especially evident in Gardner's version. All of these motifs overlap and reinforce each other.
The Descent, in essence, is the Goddess's own initiation. She is stripped down to Her core, experiences the death of the self, and is reborn with greater knowledge and deeper purpose. Because symbolically She is the Earth, The Descent can be seen as the planet's initiation as well.
From that angle, The Descent represents a paradigm shift in the way life itself functions. Endless summer is replaced by a seasonal cycle, which reflects a maturing biosphere. At the same time, Divine powers of life and death are reconciled and another cycle starts: the all-important cycle of rebirth.
All this reminds me that the word "Initiate" has more than one meaning. It can mean "To induct into membership by special rites" or "To instruct in the rudiments or principles of something " but those are secondary meanings (thank you, Webster's). It doesn't just mean to induct or instruct, it primarily means to get things started.
Questions for future posts: When we undergo personal intiation into our spiritual paths, what new cycles and processes does that start in our lives? What parts of ourselves do we confront and integrate during our rites?
First, The Descent isn't really just one myth, but rather a theme that occurs in several myths and myth-inspired stories. The oldest example may be the Sumerian myth relating the descent of the Goddess Inanna into the land of the dead. There's also a specifically Wiccan gloss of the story which can be found in Gardnerian sources. At NCPCOW's Samhain ritual this year we presented our own version in the form of a narrated pantomime, combining elements from both of these.
The story touches on some important points. The start of the seasonal cycle that I mentioned in my original post is one, of course. The integration of Divine powers is another, represented in the Sumerian account by the twin Goddesses Innana and Erishkigal. The structure of initiation is a third, and this is especially evident in Gardner's version. All of these motifs overlap and reinforce each other.
The Descent, in essence, is the Goddess's own initiation. She is stripped down to Her core, experiences the death of the self, and is reborn with greater knowledge and deeper purpose. Because symbolically She is the Earth, The Descent can be seen as the planet's initiation as well.
From that angle, The Descent represents a paradigm shift in the way life itself functions. Endless summer is replaced by a seasonal cycle, which reflects a maturing biosphere. At the same time, Divine powers of life and death are reconciled and another cycle starts: the all-important cycle of rebirth.
All this reminds me that the word "Initiate" has more than one meaning. It can mean "To induct into membership by special rites" or "To instruct in the rudiments or principles of something " but those are secondary meanings (thank you, Webster's). It doesn't just mean to induct or instruct, it primarily means to get things started.
Questions for future posts: When we undergo personal intiation into our spiritual paths, what new cycles and processes does that start in our lives? What parts of ourselves do we confront and integrate during our rites?
November 3, 2009
Samhain
Samhain is often called the Witches' New Year, but the word "Samhain" more directly means "the end of summer." How can we reconcile these two events into a single festival time? New Year celebrations are about beginnings or renewals. What does the end of a season, especially a season of growth like summer, have to do with those themes? Is there any way to build a coherent vision for Samhain that embraces both perspectives?
I think a solution can be found in the myth most associated with Samhain by Wiccans, The Descent of the Goddess. Now, I'm not aware of any association with a descent myth in the historical observances by the Celts. So if I were a reconstructionalist I'd be approaching this very differently, of course. But reconstruction of just one cultural perspective isn't what I'm up to. As a Wiccan, I'm looking for pan-cultural expressions of spiritual ideas, and The Descent really fits the bill.
It has become common for Wiccans to incorporate some form of The Descent into their celebration of Samhain. An abbreviated version of the story appears in Gardner's published work and we see the theme of Divinity descending in several great mythologies, perhaps the oldest being Sumerian (the land of Sumer = Summerland? hmm...)
Some elements of the story are malleable, but a core of common themes is essentially universal. Divinity descends from the upper or normative world into a chthonic underworld and confronts the ruling power there. The story usually ends in some sort of compromise or integration of powers, and often provides an explanation of the seasonal changes in nature. And there's our clue. The Descent is about how something started.
To put the idea into narrative context, ask yourself what the world could have been like before the seasons existed. The myths don't exactly spell it out, but the before and after descriptions aren't hard to interpret. The pre-seasonal earth resembles nothing more than it does what we experience as summertime.
Before the event that provokes the Descent (details vary) the Goddess had never really withdrawn Herself or Her blessings from the natural world. The myths describe the mourning and withdrawal of the Goddess in ways that are familiar to anyone who has ever seen summer turning to fall. Vegetation dies and withers, the earth grows cold and food sources disappear or become rare. The mythic context of the Descent is the original start of winter. For the first time, the world experiences a seasonal change. Summer ends and we have the first Samhain.
So that's where it ties together. Summer ends, and the seasonal year begins. The underlying lesson is that life cannot grow in stasis, and we need the cycle of death and rebirth to reach our own potential.
I think a solution can be found in the myth most associated with Samhain by Wiccans, The Descent of the Goddess. Now, I'm not aware of any association with a descent myth in the historical observances by the Celts. So if I were a reconstructionalist I'd be approaching this very differently, of course. But reconstruction of just one cultural perspective isn't what I'm up to. As a Wiccan, I'm looking for pan-cultural expressions of spiritual ideas, and The Descent really fits the bill.
It has become common for Wiccans to incorporate some form of The Descent into their celebration of Samhain. An abbreviated version of the story appears in Gardner's published work and we see the theme of Divinity descending in several great mythologies, perhaps the oldest being Sumerian (the land of Sumer = Summerland? hmm...)
Some elements of the story are malleable, but a core of common themes is essentially universal. Divinity descends from the upper or normative world into a chthonic underworld and confronts the ruling power there. The story usually ends in some sort of compromise or integration of powers, and often provides an explanation of the seasonal changes in nature. And there's our clue. The Descent is about how something started.
To put the idea into narrative context, ask yourself what the world could have been like before the seasons existed. The myths don't exactly spell it out, but the before and after descriptions aren't hard to interpret. The pre-seasonal earth resembles nothing more than it does what we experience as summertime.
Before the event that provokes the Descent (details vary) the Goddess had never really withdrawn Herself or Her blessings from the natural world. The myths describe the mourning and withdrawal of the Goddess in ways that are familiar to anyone who has ever seen summer turning to fall. Vegetation dies and withers, the earth grows cold and food sources disappear or become rare. The mythic context of the Descent is the original start of winter. For the first time, the world experiences a seasonal change. Summer ends and we have the first Samhain.
So that's where it ties together. Summer ends, and the seasonal year begins. The underlying lesson is that life cannot grow in stasis, and we need the cycle of death and rebirth to reach our own potential.
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