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I've been finding it harder and harder to define values that are a part of my spirituality, a part of me being Pagan. Most of my values have developed independently of my faith.
There is one value that has everything to do with my faith and very little to do with my mundane life.
When I speak to the Gods, spirits, elementals, spirit guides, totems and assorted and varied entities that surround me, I speak to Them directly. I have no need of a priest or intermediary to speak to my Gods for me, or on my behalf. I have not met a theistic Pagan yet who felt they needed a priest, priestess, clergyperson, minister, reverend, or any other person to translate their words to their Gods. The only exception to this has been when the person is possessed. It's kind of hard to talk to your God when your God is wholy in you and whatever is you is subsumed by that greater entity. It's why the lwa tell the attendees at a Vodou ritual, "Tell my horse!" when they have something important to tell the person they're riding. Of course, no one at a Vodou ritual would dare misinterpret the words of the lwa to the one the lwa possessed. The lwa also have the modern gift of speaking in relatively plain English (or French or Creole or Haitian).
It is a great feeling to know that when I pray, I am not praying to some guy in a funny hat who is then passing my words on to whatever deity it is to which I'm talking. There is no confessional, either. If I transgress (which is relatively hard to do, considering my deities haven't handed me any rules), I pay for it in karma, not by counting little beads or flogging myself. If I do step on toes, the entities Themselves let me know, and it's usually quick and unpleasant and not soon forgotten.
Of course, this is not unique to Pagan experience. Priests were once absolutely necessary in the Christian faith because of literacy. The common, average folk could not read, so their Bible was useless to them. They needed the priests, the learned men, to read the book to them and clarify the laws and tenets of their own faith. Nowadays, I've seen among Christian people that there is no longer a great need to attend church to have the bible read to them. They can read the Bible themselves, interpret the words for themselves and apply those words to their own lives. It is a blessing of modern times.
I think this is a large part of the reason why I've always been a solitary practitioner. When I was Wiccan, I tried to start a coven a couple of times, but realized that I didn't want to be a leader or constantly have to tell people what to do. I've also tried to get involved with covens, but it's almost impossible for me to hand over my autonomy. I was banished from a Wicca class for using an oil that was not ordained by the Priestess/instructor. Who was she to tell me I couldn't use an oil I preferred in a homework-assigned spell? If I wanted to follow rigorous and rigid instructions, I would have joined the military. And if I wanted a bunch of sheep blindly following me around, I would have started a cult.
Another part of spiritual autonomy means I don't have to go to a special building to worship. I don't necessarily need to be outdoors to feel the presence of the Divine. Sometimes it shows up in my kitchen, or even comes through the front doors at work (not my current work, but jobs that have been open to the public) to say howdy. I may, on occasion, build a shrine or an altar, a place to focus my attention while I pray or someplace to leave an offering, but I don't need the place to feel sacred. The world around me is sacred, every last bit. It is thoroughly infused with the spark of the Great Divine, the Great Mystery. It flows through everything, sanctifies everything. My backyard is no less sacred than a huge marble temple or a small wooden church. I remember going to churches with my friends when I was little, sitting in Sunday school. Sunday school always seemed to be held in a stuffy little room, away from the main church. It was, if nothing else, almost exactly like a school room. I remember looking out the smeary windows onto a rolling lawn that no one ever got to walk on, or play on, or pray on. I don't know why all the churches I went to had such beautifully manicured lawns. Funerals, maybe? I played in more cemeteries as a child than on church lawns. We never had Sunday school outside. The first church I ever went to that utilized its outdoor space was the Greek Eastern Orthodox church in Memphis. I almost converted because of sitting out on the lawn after Mass, eating barbecued goat, watching the men furtively pass around a flask of ouzo - which even crossed the priest's hands a time or two, watching the sun move through the trees that flanked the lawn and cast long shadows that never seemed to touch the church itself.
Even though Christians say God is everywhere, I get the feeling that some of them may not truly believe that. Why else build churches and temples? Why else expect to spend Sunday mornings cooped up in a building instead of going out and enjoying God in the wild places? Sometimes I wish I could be like one of the Christians who converted to Paganism, so I could more fully understand the whys and hows of the religion. No matter how many times I've read the Bible, how many Christians I've spoken with, it's still baffling to me. I probably confuse Christians, too - I mean, how is it possible for me to believe in their God but not worship Him? I always think of Him as "that God named God". I believe in their God because there are so many millions, probably billions, of people who believe in that God called God... but it is a privilege of my polytheism to believe without the need to worship.
There is one value that has everything to do with my faith and very little to do with my mundane life.
When I speak to the Gods, spirits, elementals, spirit guides, totems and assorted and varied entities that surround me, I speak to Them directly. I have no need of a priest or intermediary to speak to my Gods for me, or on my behalf. I have not met a theistic Pagan yet who felt they needed a priest, priestess, clergyperson, minister, reverend, or any other person to translate their words to their Gods. The only exception to this has been when the person is possessed. It's kind of hard to talk to your God when your God is wholy in you and whatever is you is subsumed by that greater entity. It's why the lwa tell the attendees at a Vodou ritual, "Tell my horse!" when they have something important to tell the person they're riding. Of course, no one at a Vodou ritual would dare misinterpret the words of the lwa to the one the lwa possessed. The lwa also have the modern gift of speaking in relatively plain English (or French or Creole or Haitian).
It is a great feeling to know that when I pray, I am not praying to some guy in a funny hat who is then passing my words on to whatever deity it is to which I'm talking. There is no confessional, either. If I transgress (which is relatively hard to do, considering my deities haven't handed me any rules), I pay for it in karma, not by counting little beads or flogging myself. If I do step on toes, the entities Themselves let me know, and it's usually quick and unpleasant and not soon forgotten.
Of course, this is not unique to Pagan experience. Priests were once absolutely necessary in the Christian faith because of literacy. The common, average folk could not read, so their Bible was useless to them. They needed the priests, the learned men, to read the book to them and clarify the laws and tenets of their own faith. Nowadays, I've seen among Christian people that there is no longer a great need to attend church to have the bible read to them. They can read the Bible themselves, interpret the words for themselves and apply those words to their own lives. It is a blessing of modern times.
I think this is a large part of the reason why I've always been a solitary practitioner. When I was Wiccan, I tried to start a coven a couple of times, but realized that I didn't want to be a leader or constantly have to tell people what to do. I've also tried to get involved with covens, but it's almost impossible for me to hand over my autonomy. I was banished from a Wicca class for using an oil that was not ordained by the Priestess/instructor. Who was she to tell me I couldn't use an oil I preferred in a homework-assigned spell? If I wanted to follow rigorous and rigid instructions, I would have joined the military. And if I wanted a bunch of sheep blindly following me around, I would have started a cult.
Another part of spiritual autonomy means I don't have to go to a special building to worship. I don't necessarily need to be outdoors to feel the presence of the Divine. Sometimes it shows up in my kitchen, or even comes through the front doors at work (not my current work, but jobs that have been open to the public) to say howdy. I may, on occasion, build a shrine or an altar, a place to focus my attention while I pray or someplace to leave an offering, but I don't need the place to feel sacred. The world around me is sacred, every last bit. It is thoroughly infused with the spark of the Great Divine, the Great Mystery. It flows through everything, sanctifies everything. My backyard is no less sacred than a huge marble temple or a small wooden church. I remember going to churches with my friends when I was little, sitting in Sunday school. Sunday school always seemed to be held in a stuffy little room, away from the main church. It was, if nothing else, almost exactly like a school room. I remember looking out the smeary windows onto a rolling lawn that no one ever got to walk on, or play on, or pray on. I don't know why all the churches I went to had such beautifully manicured lawns. Funerals, maybe? I played in more cemeteries as a child than on church lawns. We never had Sunday school outside. The first church I ever went to that utilized its outdoor space was the Greek Eastern Orthodox church in Memphis. I almost converted because of sitting out on the lawn after Mass, eating barbecued goat, watching the men furtively pass around a flask of ouzo - which even crossed the priest's hands a time or two, watching the sun move through the trees that flanked the lawn and cast long shadows that never seemed to touch the church itself.
Even though Christians say God is everywhere, I get the feeling that some of them may not truly believe that. Why else build churches and temples? Why else expect to spend Sunday mornings cooped up in a building instead of going out and enjoying God in the wild places? Sometimes I wish I could be like one of the Christians who converted to Paganism, so I could more fully understand the whys and hows of the religion. No matter how many times I've read the Bible, how many Christians I've spoken with, it's still baffling to me. I probably confuse Christians, too - I mean, how is it possible for me to believe in their God but not worship Him? I always think of Him as "that God named God". I believe in their God because there are so many millions, probably billions, of people who believe in that God called God... but it is a privilege of my polytheism to believe without the need to worship.
