Month 3, Day 5: The Wiccan Rede

We talked yesterday about how, with the pagan idea of reincarnation, you don’t have to worry about eternal punishment for being bad—just smaller punishments (and rewards) during your various lives, depending on how well you behave. But the thing is: How do you know if you’re being good or bad?

Unlike a lot of the major religions, paganism doesn’t have one “Bible,” one set of sacred rules that everyone is supposed to follow, whether they understand the rules or not. Paganism is a lot less structured than that—but still, there are some rules.

Probably the biggest rule in paganism can be boiled down to what is called the “Wiccan Rede.” (Rede just means “advice,” “counsel,” or “guidance.”) The Wiccan Rede says:

“Eight words the Wiccan Rede fulfill;

An’ it harm none, do what ye will.”

In this case, the word an’ just means something along the lines of “As long as.” So the Wiccan Rede is basically saying, “As long as you’re not harming anyone, do what you will.”

Sounds simple, right? And it also kind of sounds like a license for a free-for-all type of society. But there’s a little more to it than meets the eye.

For starters, you have to remember that “harm” means any kind of injury—not just physical but emotional as well. You can’t do anything that might hurt someone or infringe on another person’s rights or freedom in any way—from spreading a rumor about someone to killing them.

Then, there’s the part about “harming none.” That “none” includes yourself. So, although you’re free to do what you want—even things that other religions may view as “sinful,” like taking drugs or drinking—if what you do harms you (as drugs and excessive drinking very well can), then it’s against the Wiccan Rede.

Besides the whole “harm” aspect, there’s also something else to consider when you look at the Wiccan Rede. “Do what ye will” means more than just “do whatever you feel like doing.” It also means that you have a responsibility to fulfill your personal mission in life. Sitting around on your ass and watching TV ain’t gonna do it. And that’s a pretty strict requirement for such a seemingly relaxed statement.

In fact, paganism is all about taking responsibility for yourself and your actions. Pagans believe that they play a key role in making life happen—they generally don’t “turn their problems over to God” and declare themselves helpless, as the followers of many other religions sometimes do. Whatever happens in our lives, according to paganism, is the direct result of our own actions—and only we can make things better or worse.

Because paganism has no central figure representing “evil,” like Satan, there’s no one to blame for “tempting” us away from what is good. We have only ourselves to blame.

That, right there, is probably one of my favorite things about paganism. Although it’s certainly not a lot of fun to take responsibility for everything that happens to me, I try to do it—and I wish more people would do it, too.

To me, it’s a cop-out to say that “the devil” led you astray, because even religions that believe in the devil generally acknowledge that human beings have free will. So, even if you were tempted, ultimately, you’re still the one who screwed up and made the bad choices.

I screw up all the time, but hey—I’m the first to admit it. I’m thrilled to have found a religion that tells me I’m right. Now, if I could just get my boyfriend to tell me I’m right once in a while . . .

Month 3, Day 4: Reincarnation . . . Again

It’s not very pleasant to think about, but we all recognize that, after we die, our bodies pretty much get recycled by nature. What’s left of us—assuming we’re not embalmed and sealed away in some airtight vault—breaks down and becomes food for bacteria and other life-forms—maybe even some delightful carrion-eating creatures if we’re “lucky” enough to die out in the middle of some desert somewhere.

Since pagans are big into preserving the environment and recycling to conserve resources, it shouldn’t come as a surprise to learn that most pagans believe the soul, too, gets recycled. Like the Hindus, most pagans believe the soul doesn’t die with the body—it just takes a break, then gets to do life all over again.

So where does the soul go to take that much-needed break between lives? Depends on who you talk to. As the late Wiccan writer Scott Cunningham explained, “Some Wiccans say that it journeys to a realm variously known as the Land of the Faerie, the Shining Land, and the Land of the Young. This realm is neither in heaven nor the underworld. It simply is—a nonphysical reality much less dense than ours.”

Another popular name for this “rest area” for souls is the Summerland. Pagans view this realm as both a paradise and a place where the soul gets to take time to review everything we’ve learned in this life before moving on to the next one.

Unlike the Christian version of the afterlife, in the pagan Summerland, there is no divine judgment. Our good and bad deeds aren’t weighed, sending us to either heaven or hell. Everybody goes to the Summerland—and there’s no punishment there. It’s just an objective review of how we lived and whether we learned the lessons we needed to learn. Then, when the time is right, we come back in a new form—and that’s where we get our reward (or punishment).

Like the Hindus (again), pagans believe in karma. Although we won’t burn in hell for being bad people, our lives—whether it’s this life or another one down the line—will kind of suck if we don’t do what’s right. So it makes sense to live well now in order to avoid a crappy existence later.

The question is: Do we just keep living and dying and living again for all eternity? In Hinduism, the cycle of death and rebirth ends when we achieve enlightenment—when we finally get it right—and then we become one with the great Divine.

Although different pagans have different ideas about what exactly happens after our “last life,” most agree with the basic Hindu philosophy: Once we achieve perfection in life, the energy that forms our soul breaks away from the life/death cycle and becomes part of the energy of the God and Goddess. In other words, we go back to the energy source from which we came—it’s all one big circle (which explains why the circle is a recurring symbol in pagan belief—but more on that another day).

I don’t know. I still find something discouraging about the notion of reincarnation. It sure as hell beats nothingness after death, but the idea of living over and over again is probably more appealing to people who, unlike me, are good at life and aren’t constantly screwing up. I mean, seriously. If I do any worse in this life, it’s very possible I’ll end up as a garden slug the next time around.

Month 3, Day 3: My Pagan Altar

An altar is a focal point in lots of religions—in a Christian church, for example, or maybe you’ll remember my sad little Hindu shrine.

Paganism is no different. The pagan altar serves as the center of spiritual practice. It gives you a place to meditate, to pray, to do ritual, or to do magic (we’ll talk more about that another time). So I knew I needed an altar of my own—and, as usual, I did a pretty sorry job of setting mine up.

Below is a picture of my new pagan altar. It may not be pretty, but it’s already serving its purpose—giving me a place to go to focus on spiritual things.

Traditionally, pagan altars are made out of wood (or, at least, some type of natural material, such as stone). Since I’m away from home and have to make do with what I can find, I had to use a plastic storage tub, turned upside-down. It’s a little cheesy, I know, but it’s got a flat surface, which is really my main requirement.

On top of the altar, I’ve placed some of the standard pagan tools. Because paganism is based in nature, the altar tools generally reflect aspects of the natural world.

First off, you’ve got to have symbols for the four natural elements: earth, air, fire, and water. My earth symbol is the salt in the small bowl (the bowl itself is made—like most of my religious symbols lately—out of Play-Doh).

My air symbol is the incense—which is a pretty common symbol for air in the various branches of paganism.

My water symbol is the bowl of water (made of Play-Doh again—I just hope it doesn’t leak!).

And my fire symbol is—go ahead and take a wild guess. Obviously, it's the candles.

The candles actually serve a dual purpose on the altar. Besides representing the element of fire, the two candles also stand for the God (the orange candle on the right) and the Goddess (the white candle on the left). Although many pagans argue that the God candle should be red, I really hate the color red and I love orange, so orange it is. Paganism, remember, is all about personal choice and worshipping the Divine in your own way, so I’ll choose the colors I like, dammit!

Next to the candles, I’ve also placed small tokens to represent the God and Goddess. In an ideal world, I’d be using statues, but let’s just say that my effort to sculpt statues (out of Play-Doh) fell a bit short of my expectations, so I turned instead to the natural world.

For the Goddess, I used a simple roundish stone. The Goddess, after all, is Mother Earth, so a piece of her “body” seems like an effective representation of her.

For the God, I used an acorn I found outside while I was walking the dogs. One pagan myth we’ll talk about later mentions the Oak King battling the Holly King—two aspects of the male side of the Divine duking it out for supremacy at different times of the year. So, an acorn is a nice way to represent the God, I think.

The pentacle (a five-pointed star enclosed in a circle) on my altar is another fine example of my Play-Doh sculpting abilities. The pentacle serves as a place to make any offerings to the Deities—like food or other gifts (blood sacrifice being strictly forbidden).

The last items on the altar are the “working” tools. There’s the chalice (okay, it’s a cheap wine glass—cut me some slack) for ritual drinks, kind of like what is done in the Christian rite of Holy Communion.

Then there’s the athame (ah-thah-may)—the ritual knife. It’s supposed to be dual-edged with a black handle, but I did my best. It’s quite a nice steak knife, I must say. 

One point I should mention: The athame is never used for blood sacrifice, despite what some anti-pagan types might tell you. In fact, it’s never used to cut anything at all. It’s only used to make ritualistic gestures and to symbolically raise power and energy.

Finally, there’s the wand. Mine is an excellent dried-out branch that I found outside on the ground—again, while I was walking the dogs. (See? I’m getting out there and communing with nature, while also cleaning up dog poop. It’s a win-win all around.)

Like the athame, the wand is used for assorted ritualistic purposes, such as directing energy. I’ve got to say, I can’t wait to try it out.

So, that’s my pagan altar. It may not be fancy, but it seems to be working for me. I even managed to meditate a little after I consecrated the altar—that is, I had to do a special ritual to cleanse the area, empower the tools with positive energy, and make the altar an official sacred space.

I kind of like my sad little Rubbermaid altar. I feel more centered and more . . . I don’t know . . . magical . . . already.

Month 3, Day 2: Nature and Neo-Paganism

So, it’s only Day 2 of my pagan experience, and I think I’ve already found my first stumbling block. Paganism is all about nature and, to be perfectly honest, I’m just not that big on the outdoors.

Don’t get me wrong. I love the idea of nature—trees, mountains, the ocean—it’s all fabulous. But personally, I’d rather see it all through a nice big window and not have to get any of that nature on me. I mean, hello—there are bugs out there. Blech!

But then, I’m not the average pagan. Most pagans actually love being outside, communing with the natural world. And it makes sense, because pagans view nature as the physical manifestation of Spirit, or the Divine.

Lots of ancient cultures saw the world the same way. The Earth was viewed as the Goddess, the Great Mother, Mother Earth, Gaia (to the Greeks), or Mother Nature. And the sky was often considered the domain of the God—the male aspect of the one great Divine. (Some cultures reversed the two, seeing the sky as feminine and the Earth as masculine, but let’s stick with our original thought here—I don’t need to get any more confused than I already am.)

Even today, it’s not unusual to hear people from all kinds of backgrounds—not necessarily pagans—talk about their experiences in nature as “spiritual” or use other words to describe nature that border on the religious. I wish I were one of those people, but hey—nobody’s perfect.

Given that lots of people feel better, more themselves, and closer to God (no matter what God they believe in) when they’re outdoors, away from the hustle and bustle and stress of “regular” life, it’s not surprising that pagans see the natural world as a sort of “church,” a place to communicate with the Divine and become closer to the Spirit that resides both in the wonders of nature and in all of us.

For most pagans, this respect for the Earth not only represents a key part of their spiritual beliefs, but also translates into a desire to protect the world from the dangers of pollution, global warming, and all the other problems that human development can cause.

What all this translates into for me is a somewhat unpleasant realization—that I’m going to have to go outside, a lot, this month. I’m going to have to brave the cold (which makes me glad I’m in Texas instead of home in Pennsylvania) and the bugs and the wild animals.

Okay, so there aren’t a whole lot of wild animals roaming the streets of the suburban Dallas area (at least as far as I know), but I swear, I saw a rat—an actual rat—outside the apartment building the other day. So I’m not entirely crazy not to want to be outdoors. If there are rats here, there could be anything! 

Still, I hereby commit to get my lazy, couch-loving ass outside. Maybe I’ll even start to like nature. But I doubt it.

Month 3, Day 1: Neo-Paganism

Well, it’s a new year, a new month, and a new religion: neo-paganism (or “new” paganism), so we’re all about the new stuff today. I’m very excited about moving on to something new (and finally getting to ignore my old Catholic guilt, which has resurfaced with a vengeance over the past month).

So, today, I’m a pagan. Historically, the word pagan just meant “rustic” or “from the country.” It referred to someone who didn’t live in the city. As someone who lives in the suburbs, I guess I'm kind of between worlds. Anyway, the point is that the word pagan didn't originally have a negative connotation.

Pagans weren’t necessarily seen as “bad” people until Christianity took hold in Europe and the Christians started telling everyone that the gods the non-Christians had been worshipping for as long as anybody could remember were demons. Even today, a lot of people think pagans are devil worshippers, but it’s not true—in fact, pagans don’t even believe there is a devil, which would make it pretty difficult to worship him.

Although the basic ideas of paganism, including the worship of ancient gods and goddesses and a reverence for nature, have probably been around since long before history has been recorded, the neo-pagan movement got its start in the middle of the 20^th century. 

Neo-paganism encompasses several different forms, such as druidism, shamanism, and witchcraft. We'll look at all of them at some point this month. Perhaps the best-known branch of the neo-pagan movement is Wicca, which was established mainly by Gerald Gardner and his associates in the 1940s and 1950s. 

Despite the relative newness of Wicca and other forms of neo-paganism, many of those who practice paganism today refer to their beliefs as “the Old Ways” or the “Old Religion”—which simply means that they believe they can trace their spiritual beliefs and some of their rituals, especially their sabbats (holidays based on the cycle of the seasons), back to pre-Christian and even prehistoric times.

Obviously, it’s only Day 1 and I still have a ton of research to do, but so far, I’ve got to say that I’m really liking paganism. As Carl McColman writes in The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Paganism, “In the pagan way of seeing things, you are your own ultimate authority. You decide what you believe, how you behave, and what spiritual practices you observe.” (Just an aside, but I’m starting to wonder if the fact that I’ve been reading so many of these Complete Idiot’s Guide books lately is some sort of reflection on me . . .)

Unlike Christianity and Judaism, where the “Law” is laid out for you (often in excruciating detail, if you’ll recall our discussion of God’s specifications for building the Ark of the Covenant), paganism basically says that everyone has a choice—choice about how to live, what to believe, whether to acknowledge God (or the Goddess), and everything else. As long as you don’t harm anyone (including yourself), you’re pretty much good to go. 

That kind of freedom appeals to me intellectually, and it also makes me automatically less resistant to whatever the pagan path holds. I think we’ve established by now that I really don’t like being told what to do.

So this month should be an adventure. And, by the way, happy new year (although, to get technical, the pagan new year won’t happen until October 31, but we’ll worry about that another day)!