Why you *can* be a Pagan and worship Jesus:

Yes, I am intentionally riffing off the title of this post by Sam Webster. I’d also invite people to read this really thoughtful rebuttal.

I’ve actually talked to Sam in real life a few years ago and we came to the conclusion that we’d never agree on this issue. We still don’t, obviously.

Now, I could write a bunch of historical stuff about how the ancient Romans and Greeks (aka “pagans”) weren’t all unicorns and rainbows. Or how the ancient Celts didn’t exactly shoot rainbows out their ass. Or that a lot of deity lore involves killing, maiming, and raping. I’ve been a witch for 13 years, and I go to seminary. Hell, we all know these stories one way or another.

But I’m not going to. First, I’m a history nut, but not that much of a history nut. I also think other people have done it well, and I’ll leave you to read their work.

No, what I want to talk about is compassion.

See, I get it. I get that a lot of pagans have some serious church burn. It’s ok to be angry at Christianity. You aren’t the only one. Would it surprise you that there are even Christians who have serious church burn and are angry about it, too? (Feel free to come to City of Refuge sometime.)

Let me tell you a little of my own story:

See, last school year when I realized that I needed to bring Jesus back into the equation, I was afraid. I was actually worried more about the backlash from my pagan friends and acquaintances than from the Christian friends. I was also afraid of the other gods I work with abandoning me.

So, I did what any good witch does in this situation: I called up my deities and had a little chat. It wasn’t easy, and my awesome wife helped, but I invoked all 6 of them. All 6.

The consensus was a collective divine shrug and an admonition to be wise about how I go about it. They didn’t care as long as aligned with my call to serve and to love. And, boy howdy, did it ever!

Or, to put it another way: the other deities really didn’t give a shit as long as I was still doing the work. What’s been even more surprising to me is that Jesus and The Dagda have been doing a lot of work together through me.

Interesting, isn’t it?

Look, it’s ok to be angry. It’s ok to grieve. It’s ok to not want Christianity in your life.

But ask yourself this: How long are you going to hold on to that anger? What purpose does it serve? What is the purpose of acting out in anger because someone doesn’t hold the same beliefs about Christianity that you do?

As my wise and wonderful mentor as told me: even the margins have margins. Or, as Bishop Flunder has said: sometimes the oppressed decide to become the oppressor.

But when do we let go of that? When do we decide that the greater compassion is more important than what someone believes or doesn’t believe?

How do we move from a place of anger and hurt, to a place of healing, love, and compassion?

I firmly believe that learning to work together and to respect each other’s truth for what it is is the future. It doesn’t negate anyone else’s beliefs. It doesn’t tell them they are wrong. It says here is my truth, here is your truth. We both have truth, and isn’t that awesome? Now, how can we work together to bring more healing and compassion into the world?

Because, in the end, if we can’t find a way, we will obliterate ourselves. Not just one group or another. ALL of us.

May peace, love, and compassion prevail.

Oh my…

I’m preaching at City of Refuge tomorrow.

OMG I’m preaching tomorrow!

*breathes*

If you’d like to hear it, be at 1025 Howard St. in San Francisco tomorrow at 1 pm (although, I’d also recommend coming for the pre-service Intercessory prayer at 12:30).

Oh, I’m preaching about seeds. I’ll even have props!

OMG!

After @Pantheacon

Pantheacon always has that Summer Camp kind of feeling. It’s awesome while you’re there, and you miss it when you’re gone, but you also know that it wouldn’t be as special if you lived in that space all the time. Today, I miss it, but I’m also glad to be home and resting.

The Circle of Cerridwen had a suite this year, and this made for a very different, and amazing, con experience. We were intentionally a dry suite, as we have members who are in recovery, and while our suite didn’t get to the point where no one could move, it did have many interesting people come in and out. This also made for really interesting conversations. Some I didn’t think I’d have, and some that I really didn’t know the impact of until I came home on Monday.

But I (and the coven) did the work of pastoral care. Caring for people, sometimes, who would get ignored by other attendees for many reasons. Mostly ignored because they were different in some way, which, even at Pantheacon (as pleasant and awesome as this one was), does happen.

I’m still thinking about the work we did. My own personal pastoral work and impact, the impact of our coven, and the impact of the rituals we performed (The Descent and The Sacred Body). I’m really surprised that the Christian elements we brought with us didn’t get any overt push-back, and that we were thanked for talking about Jesus in a ritual. It’s really made me think harder about what my path really is. It always seems when I come up with a plan, it changes again. But the biggest message I got is that what I’m doing and the way I’m doing it is really important. I’ve been helping people, affecting and effecting people, on lots of levels. Some levels where I don’t even know what I’ve done for people.

But I do know I’ve gotten the best compliment a pastor/minister/priest can receive. Where someone takes the time to tell you that what you did, said, or preached has had an effect on them in some special way. That you’ve made an impact on their lives. That you’ve helped them realized something about themselves that they didn’t know before. That you’ve brought Spirit to them in some way that healed them.

It’s easy to say to myself that I didn’t do any of that, it was Spirit moving through me that did it. But really, Spirit can’t do this work without me (and those around me). Spirit can’t plan the ritual, bring the props, make music, make Keynote slides, break bread, make oil, and all the other things that can only can be done by a human being. But I’m really in awe of it. It’s scary sometimes. It’s scary because it just seems so much bigger than me, and because it’s so easy to get a big head about it. I know I have good folks around me to keep me from going there, but it’s hard not to go there.

It brings up the question of what I’m meant to do and where I’m meant to be. It brings up a lot of self-doubt. Do I get ordained in a Christian organization? Do I just hang on and figure that out after graduation? What organization really would want me in it? Do people really want my ritual, my preaching, anything I have to say?

Pastoring in the suite seemed so easy, really. I just did it. I was my priestly self. I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t doubt anything. I just did it. It’s only now when I’m technically “off duty” that my brain starts it’s litany of doubt.

And maybe that’s the answer. I just do God’s work and let (most) of the rest attend to itself. It seems too simple to do that, but….

Going to be at #Pantheacon? Come to the Circle of Cerridwen suite!

So, it’s morning, and we have yet to get all the gear together and clothes together, but we’ll be doing that soon. (Most likely after a good breakfast and caffeinated beverages.)

If you’re going to be a Pantheacon, give us a shout, or better yet, come up to our suite! (Room 966…the crosstown neighbors of the Beast.) Check out our schedule of events, and don’t forget to come to our two events!

Circle of Cerridwen Suite Schedule and Event Schedule.

We’ll have snacks, chocolate, ribbons(!), and pagans to chat with up there, so swing on by!

If you are:

• gay, straight, bisexual, pansexual, asexual or any other sexual orientation…
• transgender, cis-gender, androgynous, multi-gendered, or any other gender…
• white, black, brown, red, or any other race…
• short, tall, fat, skinny, or any body type…
• Pagan, Wiccan, Jewish, Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, Feri, Druid, Norse, Yoruba, Khemetic, Ceremonial, or any other faith path…
• a human being who likes to hang out with other human beings (or any flavor of being, for that matter)…

YOU ARE WELCOME TO OUR SUITE!

This is a day where I’m not sure what to write.

Mostly, it’s because there’s just so much going on! Pantheacon is a couple of days away, and I’m looking forward to doing the Wiccan Christian ritual I wrote (with some editing) on Monday at 11 am. The Awesome Wife is doing her music ritual “The Descent” on Sunday at 3:30 pm (at Club Maxx). We also have a suite this year, and we have lots of stuff going on there, too.

It’s crazy busy. You can look at the schedule on our wiki. Come check us out if you’re there.

School just started again, and that’s been really busy, too. Lots and lots of reading, of course. Interesting stuff, though.

I’ve also really started working on Dual Citizen Productions, and producing the new show Coffee With God with my friend Lee which is really taking off. Doesn’t hurt that Lee is pretty amazing at what he does! We’re also going to start filming The Greek Geek in March. I know a lot of folks liked his segments, and I hope you’ll watch the new ones when they come out.

I did an interfaith service at City of Refuge on December 30, 2012, and it was amazing. I’m still getting compliments on it, and really, I’m still in awe of the whole experience.

The biggest thing, though, is that I learned a lot about what being a minister/pastor really is about. I was feeling like I was just “one of the interns” until that service, and now I feel like I’ve really done something for the community. I know some people will say that I’ve really been doing it all along, but this was the first time I really felt that I had ministerial authority. We learn about it in classes, but I don’t think you really know until you do it.

What’s interesting, though, is that it’s made me look at what I do in my coven in a new light. I’m not only a priest and friend, I’m also a teacher. Sometimes I’m leading by example, sometimes through practice, and sometimes I have to give the spiritual boots to the head. It’s not always easy, either, because sometimes you have to be hard on someone, or even walk away from people, in order to help them. As the Morrigan pointed out to me in her story, sometimes it’s me that has to give the mercy blow.

To be honest, it sucks. Recently I was able to do it without apologizing for it, or feeling horrible about it for days afterwards. I felt sad that I had to, but I knew it was necessary. And I know I’ll have to do it again and again as I keep moving on this path.

It’s about power, really. It’s about figuring out how to wield your power to greatest effect. It’s also accepting the power you have. I didn’t think I realized just what I had in me. Now I do, and I’m in awe of it.

I also know that I need my friends more than ever now, because I know how power can put you on a pedestal or make you too full of yourself to function well with others. I also need to remember self-care, because being exhausted helps no one.

It’s hard. It’s not easy. But…I don’t think I’d have it any other way.

So, I guess I did figure out what to write…

Circle of Cerridwen at Pantheacon

It’s that time of year again! The time of year where we get out the fancy stuff and head down to San Jose for 4 days of Pantheacon mayhem and magick!

This year is going to be double exciting because Circle of Cerridwen has a suite this year!!! For our complete schedule of Pantheacon events, see our wiki page.

If you’re going to be at the con, please feel free to come by and say hello!

The Dagda, the One Who Feeds People

I brown the beef in the pot with the onions. I add a little flour to make a roux. I add carrots, potatoes, and garlic. Then comes the beef broth. I stir it all up to make sure all the roux is mixed in, and move to put the lid on for it’s long, slow simmer.

He stops my hand and says, “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

I laugh and sigh at the same time. Maybe I roll my eyes a little, but I can’t argue. I pull a can of Guinness out of the fridge, pop it open, take a swig, and pour the rest into the stew. I give it another stir.

“Yeah, that’s more like it!” I pull two more out of the fridge: one for me and one for Him. We go and sit in old creaky lawn chairs in the backyard, just watching the sun move across the afternoon sky. As the sun sets, we get to talking. Occasionally, I go and stir the stew.

He takes a long drink as twilight sets in. “You know why I like it when you cook?”

“Not entirely, no…”

He sits up on the edge of the old chair, His green eyes serious through his bushy red eyebrows. “Heh…you’re a bad liar.” He laughs. “But this time, I’ll humor you, because it’s important. Food does many things. It can heal people. It can comfort people. It can bring joy, and soothe sadness and pain. When you are the one making food for others, you are bringing them closer to you. You are doing a magickal thing. It is satisfying when you’ve fed someone who you know needs what you can give.

But it’s not just about the food. Food is only the vehicle for the human need for connection. Food brings people together. So much can be communicated by and healed through a shared meal. Especially when you cook for someone else.

That’s why I like to help you. A doubly blessed meal is always a good thing.”

He pauses taking another swallow of Guinness, patting His big belly. He pauses for a few minutes, then continues. “It’s the same when you priest, you know. I bet you know why by now.”

I think for a minute. “Well, yeah, when I’m priesting, I’m stirring the spiritual pot and making something beautiful and nourishing for the people I serve. And if I don’t make it good and flavorful, people won’t accept it.”

He smiles. “And don’t forget to have some variety. Remember, a stew isn’t a stew if you don’t have all the ingredients together. And sometimes, a little spice is a good thing!” He winks at me, then lets out a huge roar of laughter that comes from his belly. “Go on, check the stew. It should be almost done now.”

I get up to stir the stew. He picks up His harp and plays a light tune as the stars come out. I hear the lilting song in the kitchen. Over the music he yells back into the house: “Pull out a lot of bowls, love, there’s a lot of folks to feed out there!”

“All right!” I start pulling bowls and utensils out of the cabinets, lining the counters and the table. I begin to hum along to the harp song as I slice bread, put out the salt and pepper shakers, and butter. I feel the anticipation of knowing that a meal I made will feed so many. It is a beautiful thing.

The harp song rises, calling out into the night:

“Come, come, whoever you are,

for the cauldron is full

and you will not be turned away.

Come, come, whoever you are,

we call to you to come and taste

of comfort, of love, of peace

and of justice

Come and taste, come and talk, come and love, come and be

May we be blessed with abundance as the seasons turn!

Come, come, whoever you are

for the cauldron is full to overflowing

Come, come, whoever you are,

you are welcome here

and you will not be turned away

Come, Come, whoever you are

for love is here and plentiful

Come, come, whoever you are

you are welcome here

come and have your fill!

Come and taste, come and talk, come and love, come and be

May we be blessed with abundance as the seasons turn!”

There is a knock at the door.

“Come in!” I shout, as the harp song continues….

Jesus, Teacher

We sit on the beach at sunset. We are tending a fire on the beach. The others have gone, leaving us alone.

“You have questions?”

I nod, open my mouth, and shut it again. There are so many questions that I don’t know which one to ask first.

He nods, poking at the fire with a stick. He waits, patiently.

I look out over the dark ocean. The stars and the moon shine on the water. The waves form a steady rhythm behind the pop and crackle of the fire. I fidget, trying to ask the question that I have, but scared to know the answer.

Because, knowing Him, the answer may not be what I really want to hear.

I look over at Him again, and He raises and eyebrow. I fidget a little more, and then finally spit out: “Why me?”

“Ah…why you?” He pokes at the fire with a stick. “Why not you? Why wouldn’t I have someone like you learning from Me and being My Priest?”

“Well…I…I’ve been told by some that I can’t follow you truly…because I don’t see you as they do…”

“Do you believe that?”

“No.”

“Then let me tell you something: Scripture is just words on a page written by men a long time ago. When I came, I was also told I wasn’t ‘following scripture’…that I couldn’t possibly be following God because I didn’t see God the way the priests did. I knew scripture, but I also knew what was right. I knew that God was in everyone I met. I could see it. I could Heal because I called the spirit inside me that is God and told it to Heal. I caused change in the world. I had hoped it would do more good than harm, but…well, history didn’t come out that way…”

He pauses, stirs the fire again, adding another log. “Let me tell you a story…” I give a little laugh. He rolls his eyes, then continues:

“There were three people who came to me one day to hear what I was teaching. One was a merchant, one was a priest, and one was a peasant. I told one of my parables (I don’t remember which one), and each of them had a different reaction. The merchant told me how inspired he was by the story, and left some gold at my feet in payment. The priest got angry and started yelling at me about scripture and rules. He was even foaming at the mouth! He told me I was going to Hell and then stalked off. The peasant sat, and listened, thought quietly while the other two were doing what they did. He asked me a few questions, left a loaf of bread, and walked away, still thinking about what he had heard. So, here’s the dilemma: which of the three had the greater faith?”

I sat and thought about it for a minute, and answered: “Well, none of them had any greater faith than the other, since they all came to listen to You and Your message in the first place.”

“Yes.” He pauses. “Exactly.”

He gets up from the sand, brushes off his robes, and throws his stick into the fire. “So, to answer your question: Why you? Because you came and listened. Because, more importantly, you understand what you hear. I’m not really that fussy about the details. How you get there isn’t important. Showing Love and Compassion is.” He puts His hand on my head in blessing and starts walking down the beach.

After a few steps, He looks over his shoulder and says:

“Tend the fire, friend. There are those who need it’s warmth.”

(Merry Christmas to you and yours.)

Sermon #2, Preaching Class, November 13, 2012: There Are Always Too Many

A few weeks ago, my coven and I celebrated the Wiccan holiday of Samhain. On this holiday that would celebrate bringing in the last of the harvest in times past, we honor the ancestors and beloved dead, and it is also considered the witches’ New Year. During this holiday, our lore says that the veil that separates this world from the afterlife is at it’s thinnest. It is a time where we remember those who have passed, think about what we have done in the last year, and say a wish or a prayer for the future. There are several deities that are tied to death and the afterlife that are called during this season, some of whom I work with as part of my own spiritual practice.

Today, I would tell you a story of The Morrigan. She is a Celtic goddess of battle, strife, a seer of the future, and, a goddess of death. Wiccans do not have a holy book, and much of our tradition is oral, passed down from teacher to student, coven to coven. Some of our lore comes from mythological traditions, but sometimes, the stories come from the deities themselves.

Here is Her story as it came to me during my spiritual work, and this is how I wrote it a few weeks ago:

In a distant time and place, I walk behind The Morrigan as we approach a field. A mist rises around us, but the further into the field we go, I can see that there are bodies everywhere. Armor, blood, gore, chain-mail, swords, and all the other weapons and trappings of war lay scattered. We pick our way through the bodies. There is hardly any noise beyond the moans and groans of wounded and dying soldiers. Even the crows have decided to stay silent as they watch from their perches in the trees.

My stomach wants to rebel, but I swallow hard, and continue to follow Her through the field.

Her Sword gleams as She searches the field. She stops next to the body of a young soldier. He looks at Her. There’s brief flash of fear before She gives him the Mercy blow, but after, his face is peaceful. She lifts his spirit up from his body, kisses him, and he fades to the place beyond the veil.

I stare as we both watch him leave.

I am not sure, exactly, what I feel, but I know that what She did was right. I look at the field stretched out in all directions.

Then I look at Her.

When She turns to me, Her face is a mask, but there are tears in Her Eyes. “Did you think that Mercy and Compassion came without cost?” She says.

I bowed my head. “No. But there are so many!”

“There are always too many.” She says with sorrow.

We continue to walk the field.

When I do divination with tarot cards, sometimes the death card comes up. In my tradition, we say that it doesn’t just represent the physical death: it can also mean a spiritual death.

Sometimes, this is a major spiritual awakening where we have to let go of a part of ourselves that we have held on to for so long that we don’t need anymore. We grieve this loss just as we would any other death, going through the stages of grief as Elisabeth Kubler-Ross has described: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and, eventually, acceptance.

Sometimes, it isn’t our own spiritual death we are witnessing. Sometimes it is watching the people we love kill themselves slowly through their own actions. We try to help, give advice, or money, or time, but the other person still continues to harm themselves and those around them.

When I sit with the dying at the hospital I volunteer at, I know there is nothing left to be done for them. They are in the final days and hours of their life here on Earth. All I can do is bear witness to their passing and hold their hand. In the end, all we can do is let them go as they take their last breath.

And this is true of spiritual death: sometimes all you can do is let go of that which needs to be let go. Sometimes all you can do is bear witness to someone’s self destruction.

And death always comes at a cost for the living: grief, sadness, loss. It is unavoidable. It is particularly hard when everything that can be done has been done, and all that you can do is watch and pray.

As clergy, we witness all of these forms of death. Death is never an easy topic for people to talk about. Many people deny that death is happening, even in the last moments. There are people who spend their lives trying to fend off death by whatever means necessary, and there are people who seem to seek it out as a way of escape.

We become the witness to all of the ways that humans experience death, both spiritual and physical. We try to reach out, to help as much as we can, but there are times, that even we, with our spiritual knowledge, love, and desire to heal the soul, cannot do anything more than bear witness to the human experience.

And sometimes, though we don’t like to admit it, we also have to be the Morrigan, and give the Mercy blow. Sometimes we are the ones who have to call the police, or the ambulance, or Child Protective Services, or the family of someone who has died.

There are always those who we cannot save. There are always those who we have to let go of. It is a never-ending cycle. There are always too many.

But there is always hope: hope that things will get better, or that the one we had to let go of will find a way out of the darkness, or that the one who has passed is in a better place. We keep working, because the bright light of hope is always somewhere out there, even when life is at it’s darkest.

In the end, we do what we can, and pray, to whatever god we pray to, that we have done right. That the cost was worth the mercy and compassion we tried to give.

And that, through our actions and our witness, we have brought peace and hope to those who need it, even if only for a moment.

For sometimes, that is all we can truly give.

Let us pray:

Spirit of All,

May we have strength in the darkness

when there is nothing left

May we show compassion and love

in grief: both our own and in other’s

May we have wisdom

to show Mercy when it is needed

and may we always have Hope

that life and love will always be found

by those who need it.

In your many Names, I pray

Blessed Be

4M Ministries: Tuesday Compline Service at PSR

Tuesday, August 28, 2012