Out and Back

A symbol of my faith

In the photo at left, I'm holding a necklace I acquired a few months ago. The symbol is a pentagram (the object itself is called a pentacle.)  Over the summer, I began a study of Wicca, an earth-based pagan religion sometimes referred to as witchcraft.  In all honesty, though, my study of Wicca has felt less like a study and more like an affirmation. The values and tenets of Wicca are 1,000% compatible with who I am.  Put another way, I think I was a Wiccan long before I started studying the Craft.

My newfound spiritual life has been a blessing, but it has also posed some problems. I can't be as "out" as I would like to be, for one thing. I live in an area that is heavily populated with conservative, evangelical Christians -- the kind that will tell you without batting an eye that you're going to burn for eternity in hell as soon as they find out you don't share their beliefs or haven't accepted Jesus as your personal savior. So wearing my pentacle openly is something I've only done a few times, mainly to test the reaction I get. My husband and I were in Anderson yesterday and the gal at the deli where we bought our lunch asked me about it.  To my pleasant surprise, she commented that she thought it was very pretty.  I wore it again to Wal-Mart today and got a few stares, but no one approached me or confronted me.  I still plan to be judicious about when I put it on.  I'm not ashamed of my faith and not afraid of a little confrontation, but given how "witches" were treated in the early days of this nation, I figure better safe than sorry.

So what does my five pointed star symbolize? Four of the five points correspond to the four elements -- earth, air, fire, and water -- and the fifth point to the spirit. The moon symbols on top of the star are meant to represent the three phases of the moon -- waxing, full, and waning -- which in turn correspond to the three incarnations of the goddess: maiden, mother, and crone. Contrary to popular misconception, the five-pointed star is not a satanic symbol. Pagans were using it long before the satanists got hold of it (and satanists typically invert it, with the topmost point pointing downward.) While I'm at it, I should also mention that Wiccans do not worship "the devil." As far as we're concerned, there is no such thing.  The devil is a wholly Christian invention, anyway.

My study continues... I'll pop my head out of the broom closet periodically to let you know how it's going.

On the road again

I'm writing this post from my local airport as I wait for my flight to Atlanta.  Once I get to Atlanta, I'm catching a connecting flight to West Palm Beach.  Since April, I've been to Tampa, Jacksonville, Miami, and now West Palm Beach.  I guess you could say I've been getting my Florida on, which has been enjoyable.  Every city in Florida that I've visited so far has had a beach nearby, and proximity to the ocean always makes me feel better about life.  My dream dictionary makes mention of the fact that in dreams, the ocean symbolizes sexuality and the unconscious, and I guess it isn't too big of a leap from there to think of the ocean as an origin point... the primordial soup from which all life emerges.  It isn't all that surprising, then, that a lot of people (myself included) flock to the shore whenever an opportunity presents itself... we're all getting back to our roots, so to speak.

I have been thinking about the ocean lately in the context of nature, too.  During the past few weeks, I've been making a study of some of the earth-based religions, and respect for the natural world plays a huge role in those beliefs.  My spiritual path has become a bit more definitive of late -- it is becoming more and more difficult for me to make sense of life and these crazy times we live in without a spiritual element.  I've struggled with the concept of organized religion for much of my adult life, but I am starting to feel as though I may have found something that fits me.  Not surprisingly, it is less "organized" than most religions and lends itself beautifully to solitary practice.  I'm not ready to commit myself yet because I've only recently started studying, but my initial response has been very positive. 

I still have a lot to learn, though.

If this is heresy, sign me up

I frequently listen to podcasts at night when I'm going to bed -- having something to listen to somehow helps to settle my brain and I can fall asleep more easily.  The other night, I caught a rebroadcast of This American Life from last December, but instead of lulling me to sleep it kept me awake -- I was riveted.

The episode was called Heretics, and right away that caught my attention.  The hour chronicled the rise and fall of a pentecostal minister named Carlton Pearson.  Host Ira Glass introduced the story as follows:

The story of Reverend Carlton Pearson, an evangelical pastor in Tulsa, Oklahoma.  His church, Higher Dimensions, was once one of the biggest in the city, drawing crowds of 5,000 people every Sunday.  But several years ago, scandal engulfed the Reverend, he was denounced by almost all his former supporters, and today his congregation is just a few hundred people.  He didn't have an affair.  He didn't embezzle lots of money.  His sin was something that to a lot of people is far worse... he stopped believing in hell. 

According to Rev. Pearson, he had a conversion experience that made him realize that everyone is "saved," regardless of whether or not they have "accepted" Jesus.  He began preaching the Gospel of Inclusion, which states that "the world is already saved."  Needless to say, when Rev. Pearson headed down this path, evangelicals all over the place started denouncing him.  (Ironically, one such detractor was Ted Haggard, our favorite meth-buying, gay sex-having hypocrite.  Yowza.)

Listening to Rev. Pearson describe the radical change in his beliefs -- and listening to him describe the commitment he made to disseminating those beliefs -- was deeply inspiring to me.  It was almost enough to make me want to go back to church, although I still struggle with the concept of organized religion.  It was a relief to learn, though, that there is an effort being made to change the way we think about what it means to be a Christian and what it means to be saved.

You can download the podcast on the This American Life website or through iTunes.

The War on Christmas

Link: The War on Christmas, the Prequel - When the holiday was banned.

I found this article on Slate.com yesterday morning and read it with interest.  Apparently, the supposed "war on Christmas" is nothing new.  In our nation's early days, many Christian sects opted against observing Christmas for various and sundry reasons, most having to do with a lack of biblical proof that Jesus was actually born on December 25th.  The Quakers, Puritans, and some other sects skipped Christmas, and the Anglicans, Moravians, and Lutherans, among others, chose to observe it.  The article does an excellent job of pointing out that Christians have never been 100% unified on how to observe or celebrate Christmas.

I have to admit that I am a little befuddled by people who are so freaked about the so-called "war on Christmas."  I don't view my use of the terms "Happy Holidays" and "Season's Greetings" as an attack on the Christian holiday.  For me, Christmas is a mishmash of a lot of different traditions.  My own mother used to put Chanukah gelt in our Christmas stockings, and the Christmas tree in my dining room has its roots (no pun intended) in a Pagan/Roman tradition of placing greenery in the home at the time of the winter solstice.  (The pagans didn't cut down trees and bring them inside, but they did decorate trees outdoors and put evergreen branches inside as symbols of eternal life.)  News flash, folks: there most likely wasn't a Christmas tree in that stable in Bethlehem!