The Four Centers of Paganism

Last updated on: May 28, 2014 at 5:42 pm By John Beckett

Welcome to Under the Ancient Oaks, a thoughtful little blog on the Patheos Pagan Channel. I’m John Beckett, and as the header says, I’m a Pagan, a Druid, and a Unitarian Universalist. Earlier this week I felt called to respond to the misogyny in our society after the killings in Isla Vista, California. Apparently what I had to say resonated with a lot of people, because traffic on this blog is up. A lot. More people read Dude, It’s You in its first 24 hours than visit in a typical month.

I think it’s safe to assume a lot of these new readers don’t know much about Paganism. That’s what I do here – write about modern Pagan religion as I understand it and as I practice it. I’ve been needing to put an introductory piece together and this is a good time to do it.

There is no clear, generally accepted definition of Paganism. That’s because Paganism isn’t an institution – it’s a movement. Institutions have boundaries: clear distinctions between who’s in and who’s out. Movements are more amorphous – they don’t have boundaries. Instead, they have centers. You aren’t in or out of a movement – you’re more or less close to the center.

The Pagan movement has four centers – four key concepts and practices around which modern Pagans gather. They are Nature, Deities, the Self, and Community. The Four Centers model was first proposed by John Halstead last year. I found it to be very helpful in understanding the diversity of modern Paganism, and I’ve incorporated it into my own writing and teaching.

If you aren’t familiar with Paganism, or if you are but you aren’t quite sure how to describe it, read on. Don’t worry – this isn’t an exercise in proselytization. My job is to talk about Paganism, but in the end, the Gods call who They call.

Nature Centered Paganism

Nature Centered Pagans find the Divine in Nature – their primary concern is the natural world and our relationship with it. You may hear terms like “Earth centered” “tree hugger” and “dirt worshipper.”

This may be a non-theistic practice, though not necessarily so. It includes Animism, the idea that whatever animates you and me and the birds and bees also animates the wind and rain and even the mountains.

We know that life on Earth evolved once – all living things share a common ancestor and are therefore related. Nature centered Pagans understand the Earth is sacred in and of itself – its worth does not depend on its usefulness to humans, and so we treat the Earth with honor and respect.

Though none of them called themselves Pagans (and certainly not in the sense the term is usually used today) you see the ideas of Nature centered Paganism expressed in the works of Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, Walt Whitman, and John Muir. You see it articulated for our era in Dark Green Religion by Bron Taylor, Professor of Religion and Nature at the University of Florida.

Nature centered practices start with science, the study of Nature. Its creation myths include the Big Bang and evolution. Its daily practices include observing the sun, the moon, trees, and animals, and simply spending time in the natural world. Many Nature centered Pagans are environmental activists.

As for me, I do not have a commitment to Nature because I’m a Pagan. I’m a Pagan because I have a commitment to Nature.

Deity Centered Paganism

Deity centered Pagans find the Divine in the many Goddesses and Gods. This is usually a polytheistic practice, although we’ve had a debate or two about just what “polytheist” means. Deity centered Paganism is mainly concerned with forming and maintaining relationships with the Gods, ancestors, and spirits. Much of this is done through acts of devotion: worship, offerings, sacrifices, prayers and meditation. Some traditions teach ecstatic experience of deities, while others are more reserved and formal.

Monotheists claim their God is the only God and that He (it’s always a He) is infinite. Polytheists look at the world as we actually experience it and see little evidence of an all-powerful, all-good deity. But many deities of limited power and limited scope fits our world very well.

Deity centered Paganism includes most ethnic reconstructionists: groups such as Heathens, Hellenists, and Kemetics who are attempting to reconstruct and reimagine the religions of our pre-Christian ancestors. They emphasize scholarship, both to learn how our ancestors worshipped these deities and to find and share the best ways to worship them here and now. We read Their stories, but we also study mainstream history, archeology and anthropology.

A commitment to the Gods is a commitment to embody Their virtues. Most of our deities have the title “God or Goddess of Somethingorother.” This is not all they are any more than “artist” or “engineer” or “mother” or any of your roles and identities fully describes all you are. Still, it’s an important part of who They are and what They have to teach us. They are different from us, but not so very different. The more we embody Their virtues, the more like Them – the more God-like – we become.

While Nature called me to Paganism, I was never able to devote myself fully to this path – and I was never able to fully extricate myself from the fundamentalist religion of my childhood – until I experienced the Gods first-hand.

Self Centered Paganism

Self centered Paganism doesn’t mean it’s all about you and your ego. It means you find the Divine within yourself. It means the focus of your religious practice is to make yourself stronger, wiser, more compassionate, and more magical, so you can be of greater service to the world.

Wicca – at least in its traditional Gardnerian and Alexandrian forms – is Self centered. So is much of ceremonial magic, traditional witchcraft, and feminist witchcraft. There’s a story that in the early days of Reclaiming, Starhawk would tell her students “Now I will show you a Goddess. Turn and look at the woman beside you.”

Self centered Paganism is perfectly described by the subtitle of Lon Milo DuQuette’s book Low Magick: “It’s All In Your Head … You Just Have No Idea How Big Your Head Is.” It’s also exemplified by the famous quote from the Temple of Apollo at Delphi: gnōthi seautón: know thyself.

Self centered Paganism may be non-theistic, pantheistic, or monistic. It is frequently concerned with magic, which the legendary – and notorious – Aleister Crowley defined as “the Science and Art of causing Change to occur in conformity with Will.” Your Will isn’t what you think you want or what you think you’re supposed to want, it’s why you’re here in this world.

I’m a Self centered Pagan because I can’t do justice to my commitment to Nature and to the Gods without a commitment to excellence in my spiritual life.

Community Centered Paganism

Community centered Pagans find the Divine within the family and the tribe – however they choose to define those groups. Ancient tribal religion was (and is, in the few places where it still exists) about maintaining harmonious relationships and preserving the way things have always been. Individuals are secondary to the family, and immortality is in the continuation of the family, not in the continuation of the individual.

It usually includes some form of ancestor worship, and may include offerings to the Agathos Daimon – the “good spirit” or guardian spirit of the household. Ancestors and family spirits are generally thought to be more accessible than Goddesses and Gods – a Heathen saying goes “if you feel a tap on your shoulder, it’s probably your grandfather, not the Allfather.”

Humans are social animals – we live together, not as lone wolves. Our families of blood and families of choice provide encouragement, reinforcement, and accountability. Communities are their own entities – they are more than a collection of individuals. Communities exist to fulfill their missions and continue their traditions, not to meet your needs – being in community is being a part of something greater than yourself.

Community centered Pagans teach hospitality toward guests, including our divine guests. And they teach reciprocity – are you giving at least as much as you’re receiving?

Communities are helpful and rewarding, but they require work by all their members. Avoiding the unpleasant parts of community marks you as a religious consumer instead of someone who is committed to the goals of the community.

Without the active, caring, and sometimes frustrating religious communities in which I live, work and worship, my practice and my life would be far less than they are.

Synthesis and Exceptions

In practice, most of us identify with more than one center. We feel the call of Nature, but we’re also interested in magic. We worship the Gods, but we prefer to do so along with other Pagans. In general, it’s better to dive deeply into one or two centers than to glaze over all four. You’re certainly not doing it wrong because you aren’t fully committed to all four.

I’m primarily a Nature and Deity centered Pagan, but I also participate in Self centered and Community centered Paganism.

Not everyone who does these things is Pagan. There are atheists who revere Nature, Hindus who worship many Gods, Christians who practice magic, and Jews who love community. And there are people who I think are clearly inside the Big Tent of Paganism who simply don’t like the term and prefer to call themselves something else.

This is Paganism

There is no definition of modern Pagan religion, but these four centers do a very good job of describing what people who go to Pagan events, buy Pagan books, write and comment on Pagan blogs, and call themselves Pagans have in common. This is what Pagans think and do: revere Nature, worship the Gods, refine the Self, and support community.

What about you? Do any of these centers call to you? If you’re curious, there’s almost six years of material here on Under the Ancient Oaks, and there’s plenty more on the other blogs on the Patheos Pagan Channel. Look around and see what seems to fit – and what doesn’t.

And if none of it seems to fit you, that’s fine too. They call who They call. As long as you do the right things and as long as you treat other people and other creatures with dignity and respect, it doesn’t matter which God or Goddess you do or don’t worship.

Blessings to you on your journey through life.

The Three Centers of Paganism

Last updated on: December 14, 2013 at 5:45 pm By John Beckett

[addendum: As Joseph Bloch points out in his comment, there are actually four centers of Paganism, not three. The fourth is community. – JFB]

John Halstead at The Allergic Pagan is doing some of the best work in contemporary Pagan studies that I’ve come across. I don’t always agree with his commentary, but when he’s focused on what Pagans are doing and why they’re doing it, he’s as good as anybody I’ve read. This post draws heavily on his observations of the Three Centers of Paganism.

I have come to understand that the reason we have so much trouble defining Paganism is because defining it requires drawing boundaries, declaring some beliefs and practices in and others out. But name virtually any belief or practice and you’ll find someone doing it and calling themselves Pagan.

The problem is that Paganism is not an institution with boundaries. It’s a movement. Movements don’t have boundaries – they have a center and a direction. Or, in the case of Paganism, three centers and three directions.

I encourage you to go read John Halstead’s post from last year The Three (or more?) “Centers” of Paganism. While you’re there read the comments too – they’re also worth your time. Rather than trying to summarize all that, here are a few key excerpts:

To begin with there is what I will call “earth-centered Paganism” .. [it] would include those Paganisms concerned primarily with ecology, those more local forms of Paganism that I would call “backyard Paganism” or are sometimes called “dirt worship”, and many forms of (neo-)animism which view humans as non-privileged part of an interconnected more-than-human community of beings. The Pagan identity of earth-centered Pagans is defined by their relationship to their natural environment.

Last month I wrote this post where I asserted “We must learn to see Nature as sacred and treat her with reverence.” The strong reactions from some show that while this may be important for many Pagans, there are some who don’t agree. But a connection to Nature is one of the primary reasons I became a Pagan, and it’s probably the most common reason I hear from people who come to our CUUPS circles.

The second group is what I will call the “Self-centered” Paganism. I don’t mean this in the pejorative sense of ego-centrism … [it] includes Jungian Neopaganism, many forms of Wicca and feminist witchcraft, and more ceremonial or esoteric forms of Paganism. The Pagan identity of Self-centered Pagans is defined by spiritual practices which aim at development of the individual, spiritually or psychologically.

Halstead has had some trouble with people misunderstanding what he means, despite his disclaimer. Self-centered Paganism doesn’t mean it’s all about you. It means the focus of your religious practice is to make yourself stronger, wiser, more compassionate, more magical and such so you can then be of greater service to the world. My early attempts at learning magic were from this center, as are a good portion of my OBOD studies.

The third group is “deity-centered” Paganism … [it] includes many forms of polytheistic worship, many Reconstructionist or Revivalist forms of Paganism, including those which are closer to Heathenry, and those which borrow techniques (i.e., aspecting) from African-diasporic religions. The Pagan identity of deity-centered Pagans is defined by a dedication to one or more deities.

What drew me to Paganism was a fascination with magic and a love of Nature. Deities didn’t enter into the picture until much later. Because I had trouble making a clean break with the fundamentalist Christianity of my childhood, I tried to ignore the deity-centered portions of Paganism. I did it… I just didn’t do it very well.

My beliefs during my early days in Paganism were a vague deistic universalism: there is a God or a Goddess, he or she loves us and wants us to be happy, and will take care of us all when we die, but he or she doesn’t really get involved in our day to day lives. It was nice and comfortable, but I spent eight years running in place. It was only after I developed a deity-centered foundation that my spiritual practice began to grow, and I got moving on the journey I’m still on today.

Each time I’ve felt a particularly strong pull toward one of the three centers, I’ve had feelings that I was doing something wrong because I was taking time and energy away from the other centers. I really should develop a deeper relationship with my gods but in order to accomplish anything I need stronger magical skills but none of that matters if we aren’t caring for the Earth but aren’t these gods of Nature but magic gods nature magicgodsnature…

Sometimes my head is a very noisy place to be.

This is not the monkey-mind chatter that Buddhist meditation is so effective in controlling. This is three centers, three focuses of thought and practice, all clamoring for attention – and deservedly so. All three have long traditions (though not equally long) and good intellectual foundations, and all three have proven to be spiritually helpful to individuals, communities, and the world at large. And all three are calling to me. How could I possibly devote myself entirely to one and ignore the others?

My goal for this year is to decompartmentalize my life. I envisioned this as learning to be the same person at work, at church, with family, with friends, and alone. But now I see the project is even bigger than I thought. I also need to decompartmentalize my Pagan identity. I need to combine my Nature-centered, deity-centered, and self-centered Pagan beliefs and practices into an integrated whole. I’m not exactly sure how I’m going to do this, but the first step is recognizing the source of these internal conflicts. That’s where Halstead’s work has been so helpful.

That’s what I have to do. If you identify with one or two of these centers but not another, that’s fine – and you have plenty of company. If you identify with any of these centers, I want you in the Big Tent of Paganism. I enjoy theological discussions and debates (so long as they remain respectful) – they help me refine my own ideas about the gods. But in the end the nature of the gods or God/dess or the All or however you see Divinity remains a mystery.

And that mystery will be the topic of my next post.

“Pagan” Has A Meaning

Last updated on: January 8, 2024 at 4:22 pm By John Beckett

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At the core of the outrage over The Return of the Pagans lies a question of definition: who is a Pagan? What is Paganism?

Language is a living thing, and appeals to the dictionary are among the weakest of arguments – originalism and textualism aren’t just bad legal theories. At the same time, not every definition is a good and useful definition.

The English word “Pagan” comes from the Latin word paganus. Most of us in the Pagan community were taught that paganus means “country dweller” and was used as a term of derision to refer to the native Britons who kept their ancestral religions instead of converting to the religion of the invading Romans.

When I wrote What Makes Paganism Pagan? in 2018, Dr. Edward Butler said we have that wrong. Paganus was a way of othering the native Britons, but the charge was not that they were country hicks. The charge was that they were following a particular religion instead of the supposedly universal religion of the Romans – and that religious othering did not begin until after the Romans converted to Christianity.

Whatever the origin, the word stuck. Then, when the British Empire expanded in the modern era, it was used as a catch-all term for any religion that was insufficiently like “proper” Anglican Christianity. Ancient Greeks and Romans were lumped in with Hindus and Buddhists and with any people still practicing their own indigenous religions. The only thing they had in common was that they were “not like us, therefore wrong and in need of correction.” And so it was perfectly good and moral to take their lands and steal their resources and treasures.

Linguistic othering is far from the British (now Anglo-American) Empire’s worst sin. At the same time, intellectual honesty and basic decency demand that we not combine people and traditions that have nothing in common other than they’re “not like us.” Calling people “Pagan” when what you really mean is “irreligious” isn’t just an insult to the Pagans (both ancient and contemporary) who were and are highly religious, it’s inaccurate.

The word “catholic” means “universal.” You’re not wrong if you use it to mean “universal” in a way that doesn’t refer to the Church of Rome (at least indirectly) but you are likely to confuse your readers. Choosing a different word would result in better communication of ideas.

Likewise, when you use “Pagan” in a way that does not refer to the pre-Christian religions of Europe and the Near East or to their contemporary re-creations and reimaginings, you may not be wrong, but there are better ways to get your message across – ways that do not needlessly antagonize those of us who follow those religions today.

The irreligious are not Pagans

In his essay in The Atlantic, David Wolpe used Donald Trump as a contemporary example of a Pagan. Trump isn’t Pagan – he’s irreligious, and highly so.

Trump claims to be a Christian and he’s very popular with certain kinds of Christians, but his life and his politics show a complete lack of understanding of religion of any kind. That doesn’t make him Pagan: he doesn’t worship Nature, or the Many Gods, or his ancestors, or pretty much anything other than himself. He’s irreligious, and those of us who disagree with him – a group that presumably includes Rabbi Wolpe – would be better served by accurately describing him as such, rather than inaccurately describing him as part of a religious tradition he does not follow.

Likewise, the bulk of those who are leaving Christianity are not becoming Pagans. I wish they were. They’re becoming “none of the above.” They’re keeping a few high-level generic beliefs and some of “cultural Christianity” but they’re not part of any group and they don’t want to be.

The irreligious, the non-religious, and the none-of-the-aboves are not Pagan. Call them what they are.

Followers of indigenous religions are not Pagans

There are still some cultures in the world that have not been wiped out by Christianity or by Islam. They’re still doing what their ancestors did for thousands of years. That doesn’t make them Pagan. It makes them Yoruba or Ojibwe or whatever they call themselves.

It took modern Pagans a while to understand that these people aren’t part of our movement, as much as we’d like to include them. There is much we can learn from indigenous people – especially about how to relate to the land – to the extent that they’re willing to share.

Likewise, there is much we can learn from Hinduism. Hinduism shares Indo-European roots with the indigenous religions of Europe, and existing Hindu practices can sometimes point us in the direction of the practices of ancient Europeans that are lost to history. But Hinduism is its own thing, and it’s not Pagan – it’s Hindu.

Satanists are not Pagans

“There’s no devil in the Craft.” So said Sandra Bullock in Practical Magic and so say most – but far from all – contemporary witches.

Satanism is not Paganism. Satanism is the inversion of Christianity. It says “your religion is so bad and so unhelpful I would rather follow your ‘adversary’ than to follow your God.” Interestingly, the largest Satanic group today – The Satanic Temple – is explicitly atheistic. They reject the idea of a literal Satan, but embrace the Satanic archetype as a way of rebelling against the repression of conservative Christianity.

I consider The Satanic Temple to be allies in the cause of religious freedom, but their anti-theism extends to polytheists – I would not be welcome in their organization and I have no intentions of joining it.

Pagans don’t agree on who is and isn’t Pagan

That’s a brief list of people who are often misidentified as Pagan. But if they aren’t Pagan, who is?

If you asked me to define Christianity, I’d talk about Jesus (but as a teacher, a God, or a sacrifice?), the Bible (but which translation? and is it inerrant and infallible?), and the myth of the Universal Church. But a simple look at the Roman Catholic Church, the Southern Baptist Convention, and the United Church of Christ shows huge differences in beliefs, spiritual practices, and in how those beliefs and practices impact the social, economic, and political actions of their followers. An outside observer would likely conclude that while these groups have a common heritage, as practiced today they are different religions.

Modern Paganism is very similar. We have some commonalities but the core of what we do and who we are is different. Gardnerian Wicca, Heathenry, Kemetic Reconstructionism, and the seemingly-infinite variety of witches believe different things, do different things, and express their core values in different ways.

People get to define and identify themselves. Some people I think of as Pagans don’t use that term for themselves, and so I don’t use it for them either.

The core of my religion is polytheism – the belief in and worship of the Many Gods. Many contemporary polytheists don’t identify as Pagans. I respect that, but I do, for the reasons I outline in What Makes Paganism Pagan?

The Four Centers of Paganism

About ten years ago, several people in the wider Pagan community did some religious studies work to try to come up with a definition of Paganism. Our conclusion was that while it’s not possible to define Paganism, it is possible to describe it. Paganism is not an institution with clearly defined boundaries. Rather, it’s a movement with a center. People aren’t “in” or “out” of Paganism, they’re closer to or further away from the center.

Paganism has four centers: Nature, the Gods, the Self, and Community – places where people who go to Pagan events, read Pagan books, and generally consider themselves Pagans find the divine, however they conceive of the divine. I’m primarily a Nature-centered and Deity-centered Pagan, but there are elements of Self-centered (as in improving the self, not as in egotistical) and Community-centered Paganism in my practice as well.

We don’t hear a lot about the Four Centers anymore. That’s at least partially my fault. I’m not the primary originator of the concept (John Halstead and Joseph Bloch deserve much of that credit) but I was its loudest prophet. In recent years I’ve had other priorities. But if I’m going to argue that “Pagan” has a meaning I have an obligation to say what that meaning is. This is the best explanation I can offer.

The Big Tent of Paganism

Another model that came out of that wider conversation is the idea of the Big Tent of Paganism. As best we can remember, this term started with Jonathan Korman and was borrowed from politics, where an effective party requires people and groups with a wide variety of interests to support and elect candidates that generally share their values even if they don’t support all their goals (“politics is the art of the possible”).

Modern Paganism isn’t one religion. It’s a collection of many different religions that at least occasionally gather under a metaphorical big tent. There is no credal test to get in and you can leave any time you like. The Big Tent provides a visible, easy-to-find entry point for ordinary people who are looking for something their current religion isn’t providing. And it makes it easier for us to find others inside the tent who are doing the same things for the same reasons.

The Big Tent and the people who benefit from it (those who are inside it and those who are looking for it) are why I continue to invest time and energy advocating for the word “Pagan” and criticizing those who misuse it.

Stop using “Pagan” as a generic term for “religion that’s not like mine and therefore wrong”

I’m not claiming ownership of the word “Pagan” and I’m not insisting that people I see inside the Big Tent use it for themselves. I have neither the right nor the desire to do either.

Rather, I’m arguing that its use as a term of othering must end. Call the irreligious irreligious. Call indigenous people what they call themselves. Call Christians who leave the Church apostates until they develop a new religious identity, and then call them that.

Pagans are not beyond criticism. If you want to argue against Nature worship, against ancestor veneration, against magic, and against polytheism, have at it – that’s your right. We live in a marketplace of religions and monotheists are as entitled to promote their religions as anyone else.

What they’re not entitled to do is to misrepresent ancient traditions and modern practices because they’re not like what they believe and do.

Why I Still Call Myself Pagan

Last updated on: August 9, 2022 at 5:44 pm By John Beckett

Over the past few weeks I’ve seen a fair number of witches, occultists, Druids, and others say something along the lines of “I’m not Pagan.”

Unlike some of the arguments we had a few years ago, these aren’t angry statements that “I’m not like those shallow Wiccanish folks over there.” These are just people – some of whom I’d call experienced practitioners – who said “the term ‘Pagan’ doesn’t fit me.”

And that’s fine. I strongly support people’s right to choose the identities and labels that best fit them. I may think they belong in the Big Tent of Paganism, but if they don’t it’s not my place to insist they do.

On one hand, I get it. The Pagan movement is incredibly broad and it’s getting broader all the time. I sometimes say we’re in a “speciation phase” – more and more versions and varieties of Paganism are being formed, including seemingly-infinite ways to be a solitary practitioner.

The days when “pagan” (never capitalized) was a catch-all term for anyone who wasn’t a Christian, Muslim, or Jew are long gone. Those who use it to mean “an irreligious person” are doing so inaccurately and judgmentally.

Some of us did some religious studies work on this topic in the 2010s. We couldn’t define it, but we were able to describe it with the Four Centers of Paganism. I think “Pagan” is still useful as an umbrella term for those who find the Divine (however you understand the Divine) in the Many Gods, in Nature, in the Self (especially through the practice of magic), and in Community.

But that’s extremely broad. It includes – for example – traditional witches, devotional polytheists, and religious naturalists.

There was a time when many traditional witches, devotional polytheists, and religious naturalists were happy to gather together under the banner of Paganism. Some still are. But as the Pagan movement has grown, so have the opportunities for people to find exactly what they want. And as solitary practice has gone from something people did out of necessity to something people do out of choice, the need to find a least common denominator has gone down. Way down.

The right name for the right audience

If I’m traveling in Texas and someone asks me where I’m from, I’ll say McKinney – that’s where my house is. Or if I’m at a Pagan or UU event, I’ll say Denton – that’s where my UU church and CUUPS group are. If I’m outside of Texas, I’ll say I’m from Dallas. People who’ve never heard of McKinney or Denton know all about Dallas (or at least they think they do – J.R. Ewing has been dead for a long time). And if I’m traveling outside the U.S., I’ll say I’m from Texas – everyone knows Texas (for better or for worse).

Likewise, if someone at an interfaith event asks what religion I am, I’ll say I’m a Pagan. If I’m at a Pagan Pride Day, I’ll say I’m a Druid. If I’m at Mystic South or some other gathering of serious practitioners, I’ll say I’m a polytheist. I pick the term that speaks to the level of understanding and interest of the audience.

Calling yourself a Pagan is useful, even though it says nothing of any specificity or depth. But it’s a signal to ask for more information, an invitation to a conversation.

If someone tells me they’re Pagan, perhaps they mean we’re co-religionists. Maybe this is somebody who also worships some of the Many Gods. Perhaps we can discuss prayers and meditations and offerings. Maybe we can worship together.

And maybe not. Perhaps they see all Gods as aspects of one God, or as parts of our psyche. Perhaps they don’t believe in any Gods in any form. But we can still be interfaith allies and work together on environmental causes and for religious freedom.

In my experience, many people who say “I’m Pagan” mean “I’ve left Christianity but I’m not sure what I am or what I want to be.” Perhaps in time they’ll become co-religionists or interfaith allies, but my job isn’t to recruit them – Pagans don’t proselytize. My job is to help them find the path that’s right for them, whether that’s something like mine, something different but still essentially Pagan, or something completely outside the Big Tent.

The heritage of “Pagan”

In 2018 I wrote What Makes Paganism Pagan? where I explored the history of the term “Pagan.” It began as a term of derision by Roman Christians against the native Britons who kept their ancestral religions (see the Addendum, where Dr. Edward Butler makes the case that the idea that paganus means “country dweller” is not only incorrect, but maliciously so).

Later, “Pagan” became an aspiration for lovers of life who were tired of the restrictions of Christianity, but who had no way of living in an other-than-Christian society.

And then in the 20^th century, people began to move from dreaming about being Pagan to actually living as Nature-loving, Gods-worshipping, magic-practicing Pagans.

Whether we call ourselves witches or occultists or polytheists or anything of the sort, these are our ancestors. Because they kept Pagan ideas and imagery alive, because they wrote hymns to Jupiter and raised turf-altars to Pan, because they pursued the study of magic when it was dangerous, we had a place to start.

I know some people – especially some devotional polytheists – who like to distance themselves from Crowley and Gardner and the like. But while I have moved on from them, I still honor the foundations they built, and I am happy to call myself a Pagan.

What I do is more important than what you call it

I wish I had a nice, succinct, historically and linguistically accurate name for the religion I practice. When pushed for a precise description, I say I’m an ancestral, devotional, ecstatic, oracular, magical, public, Pagan polytheist.

Ancestral because it’s rooted in the beliefs and practices of my ancient ancestors, and because honoring my ancestors is a foundational practice. Devotional because worship of the Gods is the center of my practice. Ecstatic because I don’t just read about Them, I experience Them first-hand. Oracular because They speak to me (and others) and Their words carry great weight in my life. Magical because my practice includes the creation of change in accordance with will. Public because it’s for everyone who’s interested, not just a chosen few. Pagan because it flows out of the modern Pagan tradition. And polytheist because of all things that differentiate the various wings of the Big Tent of Paganism, the reality of the Gods is most important to me.

I’m a writer – finding the right words is what I do. I suppose I could find – or create – a word or phrase that would encompass all that. I haven’t, in part because nothing is an obvious choice.

But mainly, I haven’t found a name for what I do because naming it isn’t very important. My identity is entwined with my religious and magical practice, but that identity flows from my actions, not from a title.

This is what I do. If you want to learn about it, I’ll be happy to describe it to you.

If you need name for it, I have many. Druid. Priest. Polytheist. Animist. Magician (I have never claimed the title of “witch,” though I’ve been tempted at times, and I may yet claim it).

Or you can just call me a Pagan.

Explaining Paganism to the Curious but Religiously Ignorant

Last updated on: February 10, 2022 at 7:12 pm By John Beckett

Fellow Pagan Lynne Cantwell asked how we can explain Paganism to those who are genuinely curious but religiously ignorant.

I had a friend ask me if what I did was actually a religion. She thought it was a philosophy or an ideology or something. I explained that no, it’s a religion, even though we don’t have a holy book or brick-and-mortar churches, and that I follow several Gods. I’m not sure she got it.

A lot of these folks profess to be atheists and are quite antagonistic toward Christianity. I don’t want to get too deep into theology, lest I be accused of proselytizing – which I have no interest in doing. But they’re asking. And it frustrates me that they see only two options: believe in the Christian God or believe in nothing.

Lynne’s take on Paganism is here.

My first impulse is to hand these people a copy of my book The Path of Paganism. It is, as the subtitle indicates, an experienced-based guide to modern Pagan practice, and it does a good job of building a case for why Paganism is a meaningful, helpful, and reasonable religion.

However, most people who ask “what is Paganism?” aren’t looking to read a book. They want you to explain everything in under a minute. They want a creed, or perhaps a mission statement.

For those who demand a sound bite answer, I say that Paganism is 1) seeing the Divine as many Gods of all genders, not just one male God, 2) seeing the Divine in the rhythms and cycles of Nature, and 3) a resonance with the beliefs and practices of our pre-Christian ancestors.

Still, there’s no way to truly describe an entire religion in under 50 words. So for those who are willing to have a conversation over a glass of wine or a cup of tea, I offer this guide to explaining Paganism to those who are genuinely curious (i.e. – they want to learn for the sake of learning, not so they can proselytize) but who have some inaccurate and unhelpful assumptions about what religion is and isn’t.

Christianity is not the standard for all religions!

The only religion most people in the West know is Christianity. In the U.S., they mostly only know Protestant Christianity, with its emphasis on the authority of the Bible and the primacy of belief. And so when they encounter a new religion, their first question is “what do they believe?” and their second question is “what is their holy book?”

Some years ago, I spent several minutes explaining Paganism to someone. I talked about many Gods and the divine in Nature. I talked about the Sun and the Moon, the land and sky and sea. I described how my daily practice connects me to my Gods, to my ancestors, and to the land where I am.

At the end of all this, he said “what I really want to know is how does Paganism say you get to heaven?”

Terminology aside, he assumed that the goal of any religion is ending up in the good place after you die and staying out of the bad place. As though there are only two possibilities. As though the afterlife is more important than this life.

You will occasionally see people saying that Buddhism isn’t a religion because it doesn’t have a God. You’ll see other people saying Islam isn’t a religion, although that’s usually driven by political ideology. More subtly, you’ll see anthropologists and other social scientists describing tribal beliefs and practices as “superstitions” rather than as actual religions (most contemporary social scientists do better, but much of the late 19^th and early 20^th century work that was helpful to the modern Pagan movement is guilty of this).

Even Christianity is not monolithic. Southern Baptists, Roman Catholics, and the United Church of Christ are all part of the Christian tradition, but they believe and do very different things.

So the first thing people need to learn is that religion is much broader than what they’ve always assumed it is.

Religion is about what you do, who you are, and whose you are

Belief has a place in religion. But for most people in most of the world throughout most of history, religion is not about which set of supernatural propositions you affirm and which ones you reject. Rather, religion is about what you do, who you are, and whose you are.

What you believe is important. What’s more important is what those beliefs motivate you to do: especially how they motivate you to live in harmony with Nature, and with your fellow humans.

Our religion tells us who we are. Paganism tells us that we were not placed on the Earth, we grew out of the Earth. The Earth is our Mother. We are one part of Nature: not the head and not the center, but one part among many.

Our religion tells us whose we are – it tells us where we belong. Paganism says we belong to our ancestors, without whom we would not be. It says we belong to the Earth from whence we came, to the Sun that sustains all life, and to the Moon that fascinates and inspires us. Most importantly, it says we belong to each other: to our families of blood and of choice, to our communities, and to all of Life.

The Four Centers of Paganism

Paganism is like Christianity in that it has many different variations. Some years ago several of us took a religious studies approach to figure out how we could best define Paganism. We came to the conclusion that while you can’t define Paganism, you can describe it.

Paganism isn’t an institution – it’s a movement. Institutions have boundaries – movements have centers (ideas and concepts people gather around) and directions (where they’re moving). John Halstead came up with the idea that Paganism has four centers – others took that idea and expanded on it. This post from 2014 titled The Four Centers of Paganism describes it in depth and links to other posts on the four centers.

Each center of Paganism is a “place” where people find the Divine, however they understand it.

Nature-centered Pagans find the Divine in Nature – their primary concern is the natural world and our relationship with it. They may be theists or non-theists. It includes animism, the idea that everything is not a thing but a person, who we can relate to as persons. It has a strong respect for science, and a strong concern for the Earth.

Deity-centered Pagans find the Divine in the Many Gods – their primary concern is forming and maintaining relationships with the Gods, ancestors, and spirits, through acts of devotion: worship, offerings, prayer, and meditation.

Self-centered Pagans find the Divine within – their primary concern is to make themselves stronger, wiser, more compassionate, and more magical, so they can be of greater service to the world.

Community-centered Pagans find the Divine within the family and the community – their primary concern is maintaining harmonious relationships and preserving sacred traditions. It usually includes some form of ancestor veneration.

When we started discussing the Four Centers, I called myself a Nature centered and Deity centered Pagan. Eight years later that’s still accurate, but the Gods are the primary focus of my practice.

OK, but what is Paganism to you?

There are many Gods, who are the mightiest of spirits. They are individual persons, not metaphors or archetypes, and not aspects of one God. The Gods will speak to us, if we will listen. Such communication is usually subtle – Gods have no need of spectacle.

I have oathed relationships with Cernunnos, Danu, and the Morrigan. There other deities who I worship and work with on a regular basis, more I interact with on occasion, and still more I do not know. My service to Them is among the most meaningful aspects of my life. My life is better with Them in it.

It is good to honor our ancestors. We owe a debt of gratitude to them, for without them we would not be. Some day we will be ancestors. My daily prayer is that I will live so as to be worthy of the honor of those who come after me.

We are part of Nature. Science tells us that life evolved once on Earth. Every living thing – every living person – is related. Nature isn’t all about us, and while we have the right to modify our environment, we have no right to do so to the permanent detriment of other species.

Nature is good. Nature is beautiful and terrible, life-giving and life-taking, and it is good.

There is more to life than the ordinary world. We live on after death, not forever in some good place or bad place, but for a time in the land of the Gods and ancestors. And then we are reborn into this world, to continue learning and growing.

There’s so much more to my Paganism, but those who are curious but ignorant don’t need to be overwhelmed. They need to know what Paganism is to you.

This is what it is to me.

Hold loosely but practice deeply

The theological and doctrinal claims of all religions are inherently uncertain. We don’t know who’s right or to what degree. Some choose to make claims of certainty that can’t be substantiated. Some decide that since they can’t be certain, they’ll just ignore the whole question of religion.

I prefer a third approach. We choose the path that calls to us – we believe what our hearts and our heads tell us is true. While we hold those beliefs, we follow them as deeply as we can.

But we remain open to new information, new experiences, and new interpretations. If we find reason to think that our beliefs are untrue or unhelpful, we change our beliefs. We change our practices.

Does your religion – or lack thereof – help you live a better, fuller, and more connected life? Does it inspire you to build a better world here and now? Does it help you deal with the immensities of life, with birth and death, with change and loss?

If it does, then you’ve found the right path, and I’m happy for you.

For me, Paganism does all these things. That’s why I’m a Pagan.

Presenting Paganism to a Generation of Spiritual Explorers

Last updated on: August 17, 2021 at 7:12 pm By John Beckett

Heather Greene has a new piece up on Religion News Service that says Study: Gen Z doubles down on spirituality, combining tarot and traditional faith. It looks at a study by the Springtide Research Institute that says:

Younger Americans, known for fashioning their own spirituality the way they curate their social media feeds, are doing so using well-established alternative practices.

Here’s a longer quote:

“Our generation has already been distancing ourselves from a lot of institutions,” wrote Zaina Qureshi, a 16-year-old who identifies as both Muslim and spiritual. “The main three Abrahamic religions leave little to our own interpretation of Scripture.”

With tarot and other similar practices, Qureshi said, “we’re open to interpret what we want to think (for) ourselves and make our own guidelines when it comes to spirituality, which is why I think a lot of young people resonate with it.”

This shouldn’t come as a surprise to any student of religion. People have been practicing divination and other forms of magic within the context of established religions for as long as there have been established religions. How do we know? From all the rules against it. You don’t have to try to ban something that no one is doing. Unless you’re a politician trying to exploit your base’s conspiracy theories (see: voter fraud, late term abortion, etc.) but that’s another rant for another time.

The place of magic within religions that preach against it is an interesting topic. But as a Pagan, I’m more interested in the people who leave Christianity and Islam – and atheism – for our more magic-affirming traditions.

Our many varieties of Paganism and polytheism are not a social club, a political party, or a marketing agency. We don’t proselytize. At the same time, we want to see our values grow in the mainstream culture. More importantly, we want to be welcoming to those who are looking for what we have – even if they don’t know it yet. The Gods call who They call, but many times those calls are faint and difficult to follow.

How do we welcome those who expect to “make their own guidelines?” How do we balance the obligation to preserve our sacred traditions with the obligation to be hospitable to those who simply won’t tolerate being told what to believe or what to do?

Understand what is negotiable and what isn’t

Do you want to cast a circle at the start of a ritual? Great – I usually do. Think rituals are better without circles? That’s fine too. I’m a member of two Druid orders. OBOD casts circles – ADF doesn’t. I encourage you to think through your liturgy and to make conscious decisions about what to include, but at the end of the day circle casting is entirely optional as far as I’m concerned.

Want to have a public high day ritual and not honor one or more deities? I won’t be helping you lead that one. Honoring the Gods is at the core of my religion. We can talk about Who to honor and how best to honor Them, but including the Gods is a non-negotiable for me.

That doesn’t mean I won’t work with non-theistic Pagans where we have common cause. But I cannot take the Gods out of my religion to make anyone feel comfortable.

We don’t all have the same non-negotiables. Know what yours are, so you know where you can let things go in the name of being welcoming and inclusive, and where you need to draw a sharp, clear line.

Provide a robust foundation

This is perhaps the most important thing we can provide for seekers and spiritual explorers. Most of them aren’t looking for a place to do whatever they want – they don’t need a religion for that. They’re looking for a place – a group, a tradition, a culture – where they fit. Our job is to help them figure out if they fit in Paganism (or rather, a particular form of Paganism). If they do, great. If they don’t, then they’ve learned something, which is also great.

This is one of the reasons I wrote The Path of Paganism. It starts at the beginning, with what religion is and why it’s so much more than what our Protestant-dominated mainstream culture says it is. It covers the foundations of modern Paganism and the Four Centers of Nature, Gods, the Self, and Community. And it goes into depth on several forms of Pagan practice.

This isn’t meant to be a plug for my book. Honestly, if people are just getting started, I usually recommend Morgan Daimler’s Irish Paganism (even if you’re not Irish or interested in Ireland). It’s a better 101 book – The Path of Paganism is more of a 201 book.

If we give people a good foundation in what Paganism is and what it isn’t, they can do a better job of figuring out if they want to build on our foundation, or if they’d be better off somewhere else.

Promote the primacy of religious experience

A popular quote from Deepak Chopra says “Religion is belief in someone else’s experience. Spirituality is having your own experience.”

This is simply wrong. Don’t say “religion” when what you mean is Christianity.

Religion is the collective wisdom of those who came before us. In the case of Pagan religion, that includes wisdom around the best ways to have your own religious and spiritual experiences.

There is nothing like looking up at the stars and realizing the universe is so big and so old, and we are so small and so new, and yet here we are, contemplating it all. There’s nothing like standing in a circle (cast or not) and feeling the presence of the Gods and spirits. There’s nothing like the experience of a God merging part of Their essence with yours, giving you a taste of divinity that’s like being inside a fire hose.

These experiences are often described as ineffable. Not because it’s forbidden to speak of them, but because words are completely inadequate to describe them.

Other people’s experiences provide opportunities to compare and contrast with our own. Experiences of skilled practitioners provide road maps for us to follow.

But there is no substitute for having our own experiences. And for a generation that wants to see for themselves, the best thing we can offer are structures and guidelines to facilitate them.

Teach practices that facilitate religious experiences

There’s a fine line between teaching foundational material and letting people grow into deeper practices, and letting them jump in the deep end of the pool – or pushing them in – right away. Honestly, I tend to be too conservative here – I don’t want someone’s spiritual injury (or in some cases, physical injury) on my conscience.

But it’s better to have those who weren’t ready running away in terror than to have those who are ready walking away out of boredom.

Religious experiences happen in their own time – they cannot be commanded. But there are things we can do to put ourselves in places where they’re more likely to happen.

We can do the devotional work that builds the kind of relationships that are likely to express themselves in ecstatic experiences. We can put ourselves in wild places and liminal places. We can set appropriate expectations, and learn to appreciate subtle experiences as much as the more dramatic ones. We can teach Drawing Down the Moon and other forms of ecstatic communion.

We can teach the kind of magic that gets results.

Coming up with your own interpretation of a sacred text is one thing. Having your own sacred experience is quite another. Let’s teach seekers how to have them.

Teach discernment

If you’re doing to teach people how to have a religious experience, you also need to teach them how to interpret them. Raw experiences are amazing and powerful, but they are literally meaningless until we interpret them and decide what they mean.

If we aren’t mindful, we’ll end up interpreting our experiences in the context of popular fiction. That’s not likely to be a helpful approach.

Discernment takes knowledge, to have an idea of what something might have been. It takes analysis, to walk through the possibilities and eliminate those that are impossible, or highly unlikely. And finally, it takes a decision to operate as though our best guess is completely true, even as we remain open to new experiences and new interpretations.

Provide opportunities for exploration and practice

As I write this the United States and much of the world are in the middle of the Delta variant surge. Just as we were starting to gather in person again, we need to be taking greater precautions against spreading Covid. But the pandemic won’t last forever, and even if it does we’ll find ways to practice together.

Our public rituals tend to be rites of worship and celebration. That’s good and appropriate. But we need to provide opportunities for those who want deeper experiences to have them. The best way to do that is in the company of folks who’ve done these things before – it’s the safest way, too.

If it works, people will stick around

We practice our Pagan and polytheist religions because they’re meaningful and helpful to us, not because they’re popular – or because we want them to be popular.

But most people – particularly the younger generation of seekers and spiritual explorers – bring a rather utilitarian approach to religion and spirituality. If it works, they’ll keep doing it. If it doesn’t, they’ll move on to something else.

Sometimes what works for one won’t work for another. Sometimes the requirements are too much and people leave because it’s too hard. But also, sometimes the requirements are too little, and people leave because they don’t get anything out of it.

None of us are as unique as we like to think we are. If a religious and spiritual approach works for us, it’s likely to work for others.

We just have to present it to them in such a way that they’ll give it a try.

Loving Nature in Tornado Season

Last updated on: March 21, 2021 at 9:41 am By John Beckett

Loving Nature in Tornado Season
The Denton Unitarian Universalist Fellowship

March 21, 2021

It’s easy to love Nature in the Spring. The days of it getting dark at 5:30 are long past. The cold weather – and we certainly had some this year – is pretty much gone. The browns and greys give way to greens. There are new flowers and budding trees… and it’s not ridiculously hot yet. Spring is beautiful.

One of our UU principles is “respect for the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part.” We don’t see Nature as “fallen.” We see Nature as sacred and holy, something to be honored, respected, and enjoyed. We love Nature.

And then tornado sirens go off.

On average, there are 1200 tornadoes in the United States each year, causing 1500 injuries, 80 deaths, and 400 million dollars in damages. Texas has more tornadoes than any other state – here in North Texas we average 25 per year. Tornadoes are usually brief and localized, but where they strike, the results are devastating. Tornado warnings give only a few minutes to take shelter, and that’s with the massive improvements we’ve seen in tornado forecasting over the past 20 years or so.

The same Nature that gives us trees and flowers and warm Spring days also gives us tornadoes. It’s hard to love Nature in tornado season. But we can, and I think, we should.

The Four Centers of Paganism

Today’s service is planned and presented by CUUPS, the Covenant of Unitarian Universalist Pagans. CUUPS at the national level was recognized by the UUA in 1987 – Denton CUUPS was formed in 2000, by and for Pagan-friendly UUs and UU-friendly Pagans. CUUPS does many things, most notably providing rituals and celebrations for the eight holy days on the modern Pagan Wheel of the Year. That includes the Spring Equinox, which was yesterday. We also lead the occasional Sunday Service, as we do today.

Defining modern Paganism is difficult, because it’s very broad. In 2013 some of us took a religious studies approach and described Paganism as a religious movement with four centers – four different places where people find the Divine… however people understand the Divine. Those four centers are Nature, the Many Gods, the Self, and Community.

Today’s service is grounded in Nature-centered Paganism. And it’s especially grounded in our Nature-centered creation myth.

A Nature-Centered Creation Myth

Contrary to what some think, a myth is not a “made up story.” Myths often have elements of history in them, but a myth is not inferior to a historical account. As the quote of indeterminate origins says “a myth is a story about things that never were but always are.” I like say that a myth is a story to live by. A myth tells us who we are, where we came from, and how we should live.

Most cultures – though not all – have a creation myth. The creation myth of the Western world for the past two thousand years or so says there was a time when the Earth was perfect and there was no suffering. And then some humans did something they weren’t supposed to do, and now the world is fallen and has sickness and death and tornadoes in it.

From “The Fall and Redemption of Man” by Hugo van der Goes (after 1479). Public domain.

Religious and literary scholars have different ideas about the origins of that myth and on what truths it’s trying to communicate. Dismissing it because it’s not literally true would be a mistake. But there’s another creation myth that’s more helpful to us here and now.

There was a time, around 14 billion years ago, when all matter and energy was compressed into an infinitely small point. And then there was a Big Bang, and it began to expand. Particles combined into elements, elements combined into stars and stars combined into galaxies. Planets began to form, and then about three and a half billion years ago, life began on Earth.

We still don’t know how life began, but once it did, it began to expand and evolve, a process that continues to this day. Every living thing on Earth – including you and me – is a descendant of that first single-celled organism.

We are all related. We share almost 99% of our DNA with chimpanzees, 98% with gorillas, 90% with cats, and 50% with bananas. When Saint Francis called the wolf his brother, he had no way of knowing just how right he was.

Our line split from the chimps and bonobos about 4 million years ago, and our species is perhaps 200,000 years old. We’re the newcomers. And yet we often think and act as though the world is supposed to be all about us.

Myths tell us who we are and where we came from. The myth of the Big Bang and of evolution tell us that we came from Nature, and that we are a part of Nature. Perhaps more importantly, it tell us that we are not the center of Nature, nor are we its head. We are simply one part of Nature, one part among many.

Imago Dei and Animism

Many of us are familiar with the Christian concept of Imago Dei – the idea that we are made in the image of God. That idea has been used to justify exploiting the natural world, driving other species to extinction, and generally thinking we’re superior to everyone and everything else.

But the real problem with Imago Dei is not the idea that we carry the image of the Divine. The problem is thinking we’re the only ones who carry it. Our natural creation myth tells us that our origin is the same as the origin of rabbits and squirrels, rocks and trees, rivers and winds. Whatever it is that gives us life gives life to every other thing as well. We all carry the image of the Divine. And when we start to understand that the Divine is in us all, we start to appreciate the wisdom of animism.

When I was growing up I was taught that animism is a “primitive” religion, the first step on a journey to the “proper” religions of modern time. The fact is that animism is neither primitive nor a religion. It’s a way of seeing the world, a way that acknowledges our common origins. Animism says that everything is not a thing but a person, and we can relate to them as persons. Not as human persons, but as tree persons and squirrel persons and river persons.

I remember the first time I saw an elk – they were a lot bigger than I thought they’d be. It was a trip to Colorado in 2004 – the elk were coming out of the mountains and grazing in people’s lawns. The local news kept reminding people not to get close to the elk. They’re faster than you think, and while they’re herbivores, just because they won’t eat you doesn’t mean they won’t kill you if you get too close to them.

Elk in Ashland, Nebraska, 2014. Photo by MONGO. Used under Creative Commons license.

Are elk evil? I would take a very human-centric person to think that. The vast majority of times when humans are injured by elk or other wild animals it’s because we’ve ventured into their territory. Elk are persons who do what elk do. They have as much right to be here as we do.

Rabbits are persons who do what rabbits do. Rivers are persons who do what rivers do. Tornadoes are persons who do what tornadoes do. And we all are part of the Divine.

Loving Nature doesn’t mean liking tornadoes

Now, loving Nature doesn’t mean we have to like tornadoes.

Survival is an instinct – every creature on Earth wants to live. But many of us are in competition. Elk compete with deer for grazing territory – a competition the larger elk usually win. Elk are in a very different competition with wolves.

We like to speak of “survival of the fittest” and we talk about how competition strengthens a species. But biologists remind us that evolution has no foresight. Faster elk and stronger wolves are simply the by-product of elk and wolves doing what elk and wolves do.

Gray Wolves – 2010. Photo by Steve Jurvetson. Used under Creative Commons license.

I imagine the elk don’t like the wolves. We don’t have to like tornadoes. But would Nature be as beautiful without elk and wolves? Without snow and snowstorms? Without tornadoes? Without humans? We cause more damage to the natural world than any other species.

We are all part of Nature. We all do what we do. Sometimes we’re in competition. Sometimes we’re in conflict. We don’t have to like it. But if we are wise we will accept it for the reality that it is, and if we can, see the beauty in the amazing diversity and complexity that is Nature.

Using our greater intelligence

Our evolutionary advantages are opposable thumbs, bigger brains, and the capacity for speech and language. If we cannot see into the future, we can see where our current path is taking us. Other animals can assess risk when it presents itself – we can assess risk in the abstract, and thus take precautions to minimize it.

We tempt Nature when we live in dangerous places, and “Tornado Alley” is certainly one of them. But there is no place in North America where Nature doesn’t at least occasionally try to kill you. The Gulf and Atlantic coasts have hurricanes, the West has wildfires and earthquakes, and the North has blizzards that make what we experienced last month look like nothing. And while modern medicine has done wonders to increase our life expectancy, the Covid-19 pandemic reminds us that we will never be completely free from disease.

There is no “safe” place to live.

And so we respect Nature, and we understand that our place is not at the head of Nature, nor at its center. Rather, we are one species among many species. We give thanks for tornado sirens, and storm shelters, and bathtubs, and insurance, and all the other things that reduce our risk of dying in a tornado even though we can never completely eliminate that risk.

You get a lifetime

Perhaps the most difficult part of appreciating Nature is the unfairness of it all. Why are some born healthy and others not? Why are some born with all they need to succeed and others born with not even enough to survive?

Why do tornadoes demolish one house and leave the next house untouched?

Philosophers, theologians, and ordinary people have struggled with this for at least as long as we’ve been human. No one has a satisfactory answer. Author Neil Gaiman came perhaps closer than anyone when he had Death tell someone “you get what anybody gets – you get a lifetime.”

The world, the universe, life itself – it’s not all about humans. It’s certainly not all about you or me or any other individual, despite what certain politicians think of themselves.

And yet…

Go outside on a clear night and look up. Even through the Metroplex light pollution you can see stars and galaxies as far as two million light years away. Using one of the space telescopes we can see objects even further away – when the light you see left those galaxies, the Earth didn’t even exist.

The universe – Nature – is so very old, and so very large. We are so very new and so very small, and our lifetimes are so very brief. And yet, here we are, a part of it all, contemplating it all.

The same natural forces that produced stars and galaxies produced you and me. How can we look on Nature with anything but wonder and awe… and with love?

NGC 4414, a typical spiral galaxy approximately 60 million light-years from Earth. Photo by NASA, public domain.

Seeing things as they really are

Storm chasers – people who actively seek out tornadoes, either to study them or just to watch them – are warned that if they want their videos to be used on the news or in a documentary, they need to watch their language. On one hand, the warning talks about the kind of profanity many of us instinctively use when an experience of some immensity of Nature leaves us at a loss for words. But they also warn the storm chasers to avoid describing a tornado as beautiful, or magnificent, or amazing. That beautiful, perfectly-formed funnel cloud may have just destroyed someone’s home, or killed their grandmother.

Nature can be both awesome and awful.

But the storm chasers, from their vantage point that’s emotionally distanced – if not always physically distanced – have a point.

Elk are beautiful animals, but they can be deadly. Rivers provide both spiritual inspiration and life-giving water, but they can also drown us. And let’s not forget that we humans can wipe out entire species and ecosystems without a second thought. Nature is beautiful and terrible in all its forms, including its human form.

And so we accept that tornadoes do what tornadoes do. We fear them, with that healthy fear that acknowledges that life isn’t all about us. We respect them, and we do what must be done to protect ourselves from them. We reach out to those harmed by tornadoes with compassion and with tangible action. Our species’ evolutionary strategy isn’t survival of the fittest – it’s cooperation and mutual aid.

It’s easy to love Nature on a warm Spring day. It’s harder to love Nature when the tornado sirens are going off. But it’s all the same Nature. Beautiful and terrible, live-giving and life-taking, and we’re a part of it all.

Benediction

Tornadoes, rivers, humans, elk… we’re all part of Nature. We’re all part of a 14 billion year story, a story that will continue for billions more years after we’ve moved on to whatever it is that comes after we die. The universe wasn’t made for us and it’s not all about us, but we get to experience it, and contemplate it, and be a part of it.

And that is truly Divine.

May you and yours be safe and well, now and in the days to come.

Building an Orthopraxic Religion

Last updated on: December 1, 2020 at 5:46 pm By John Beckett

The response to Sunday’s post Paganism as a Religion of Relationships was surprisingly good (even mentioning the word “religion” turns some people off). Several people pointed out that I was describing an orthopraxic religion – a religion based on right actions. We’re used to thinking of religion as orthodoxic – based on right beliefs. And that’s because our mainstream culture is dominated by Christianity, which emphasizes belief over all else.

This Twitter thread by Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg presents a Jewish perspective on this:

The idea that Judaism is a “religion” or a “faith” only which hinges on “belief” is such a profoundly Christian concept I don’t even know where to start. We’re a religion, sure, and/though we’re also a people. Peoplehood is tricky to understand for a lot of folks because it is not a Christian concept. You’ll never understand Judaism, Jewishness if you keep imposing Christian paradigms where they don’t belong.

What Rabbi Ruttenberg explains about Judaism is also true of the vast majority religions in the world, both historically (including the pre-Christian religions of Europe which inspire so many of us) and in contemporary life. The idea that religion is primarily about belief is “a profoundly Christian concept.”

There is a place for belief in Paganism. I’ve written about this extensively over the years, and I intend to write more in the coming days and weeks. But the place for belief is not at the center of a religion.

As we build our contemporary Pagan religions, we need to consider what goes into an orthopraxic religion – a religion that prioritizes right action over right belief.

Religion is a group effort

The English word religion comes to us from the Latin words religare meaning “to bind together” and religio meaning “obligation, bond, and reverence.” These are things we do together.

We can have our own individual beliefs. We can have our own practices. But can we have our own religion? Perhaps – or perhaps not – but without others, what we have will be a very weak religion.

In his excellent book The Earth, The Gods and The Soul, Brendan Myers discusses how Pagan philosophy stagnated after the closing of the philosophy schools in 590 CE and didn’t start advancing again until the modern Pagan movement was established in the second half of the 20^th century.

Without organizational support, ideas tend to take the form of strongly and/or poetically expressed propositions, and rather little else.

What is true of philosophy is also true of religion. A vibrant, living religion requires sustained human interaction, grounded in right relationships. And our right relationships aren’t centered on shared beliefs, but on other commonalities.

Shared values

The header of this blog calls it “musings of a Pagan, Druid, and Unitarian Universalist.” I don’t write nearly as much about Unitarian Universalism as I did when I started the blog back in 2008, but I remain an active and committed member of the Denton Unitarian Universalist Fellowship.

My beliefs are rather different from most UUs. But I’m part of UUism because we share values, especially the 1^st UU Principle “the inherent worth and dignity of every person” and the 7^th Principle “respect for the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part.”

What are our shared Pagan values? There are many, and we don’t all agree on all of them. That’s one of the reasons we have many Pagan religions and not just one. But certainly, the virtues of hospitality and reciprocity. Acceptance of diversity and respect for all. A respect for Nature that for many of us includes reverence. And a love for the stories and practices of our ancestors, whether we use them as guidelines for our own religions or simply as inspiration.

A group that shares common values can always find reasons to work together for the common good. A group with no common values will not a be a group for long.

Shared vision

Agreeing on values – on what’s most important – is only the beginning. How will we live out those values in our lives? What will we build, as individuals, as a group, and as a society?

This can be as basic as an indigenous society saying “we will live as our people have always lived.” It can a reconstructionist group saying “we will live as our ancestors lived, as best we can in this modern world.” It can be a polytheist group saying “we will honor our Gods, our ancestors, and the land on which we live” or a Wiccan coven saying “we will practice in the Gardnerian tradition to the best of our abilities.”

Not all visions are good things. The Evangelical Christian vision is to convert the whole world to their religion. The more radical Evangelicals want to bring about the end of the world.

Good religion is about what we do. A shared vision is our common understanding of what we’ll accomplish if we do it.

Shared commitment

Thoughts and ideas are important, but words can be cheap. At some point we have to turn them into tangible actions.

Can you be a polytheist if you never honor any of the Gods? Can you be a Unitarian Universalist if you never work to build a better world here and now? Can you be a witch if you never do witchcraft (leaving aside the question of whether or not witchcraft is a religion – for some it is and for many it isn’t)?

Different groups and traditions – different religions – will have different expectations for their members, both in terms of what they commit to and the intensity of their commitments. Religions with high expectations tend to be more resilient and last far longer than religions where anything goes.

Or, as most of us were taught growing up, you get out of it what you put into it.

Common rituals

Religion is about what we do. “What we do” in part means how we live on a daily basis. But it also means those ceremonial acts that create meaning and maintain a sense of common identity.

The efficacy of ritual aside (and that’s a big aside for me – in my experience good ritual is very efficacious), its regular performance helps create a common identity. Catholics go to mass. Muslims pray five times a day. Pagans (most of us, anyway) celebrate the Wheel of the Year. This is what we do, so this is who we are.

This is a challenge for those of us who are building contemporary Pagan religions – it’s one of the reasons “pan-Pagan” groups never seem to last very long. The broader your emphasis the more different rituals you’re going to do, and the less meaning and identity you can build. Not to mention the fact that narrower emphases allow for more depth.

Do common rituals in a common manner and eventually you start to develop common beliefs about them. We’ll go into more detail on that in a future post. For now, what’s important is that common rituals are one key part of building an orthopraxic religion.

an offering to the Morrigan — Making offerings is a practice. What offerings mean is a belief.

Clear boundaries

When some of us were discussing the Four Centers of Paganism back in 2013 and 2014, one of the things that became apparent is that Paganism is a movement, not an institution. Movements have no boundaries. They have a center (in the case of Paganism, four of them) and a direction. You aren’t in or out of a movement, you’re closer to or farther away from its center.

Religions are institutions. They have boundaries and either you’re in or you’re out. Most current religions are constantly negotiating and renegotiating their boundaries.

A lot of people in the Pagan movement don’t like boundaries, and they yell “gatekeeping!” whenever they encounter one. But good boundaries aren’t about keeping people out for arbitrary or discriminatory reasons. They’re about preserving traditions. They’re about making sure that people who come into a group share the group’s values and its vision, and that they’re willing to make an appropriate commitment to them.

Not everything is for everyone. Each group, each tradition, and each religion has the right to set its own boundaries. Doing so allows an orthopraxic group to limit itself to those who are willing and able to do the things that form and maintain the identity of the group.

Building an orthopraxic religion

I freely acknowledge that some – perhaps many – people in the Pagan movement simply aren’t interested in religion. But most Pagan complaints about religion aren’t about religion – they’re about Christianity, and usually, about conservative and fundamentalist Christianity at that.

We don’t have to repeat their mistakes and excesses.

We can build a deep and meaningful religion based on what we do.

We just have to understand that religion is a lot more than what we believe.