Monday, May 16, 2005

What is the purpose of ritual?

As I've mentioned before, I have a background in theatre. Knowing that the profession traces it's roots back to religion and ritual, the whole idea of sacred ceremony was troublesome for me, right from the start. Where is the dividing line between performance for an audience and something touching the divine? Does ritual have to be something with a long tradition, or can you make it up as you go along? What's a pagan to do?

If you look at modern evangelical Christianity, it can be very hard indeed to see a difference between theatre and ceremony. Most evangelical churches - and especially the larger "mega-churches" - are, for all intents and purposes, theatres. They boast state-of-the-art lighting and sound systems, complete with professional crews. There are even some that have a curtain that draws open to reveal the choir. I've been hard put to find anything approaching an altar in any of them. The focal point is a podium from whence their leader preaches. It's his words, his performance, that is the central activity. Cue music, enter Pastor X stage right.

Of course, this isn't anything new. If you look carefully at the architecture of old-time cathedrals, you will see a stage as well. Those buildings do an excellent job of amplifying the human voice. There are more props and a LOT more costuming in a Roman Catholic mass, but you can definitely trace a line from there to Pastor X's church/stage. If you go back even further, you will find the fertility rights that nearly every human culture seems to have invented, in every corner of the globe. One might even see the oak groves of the druids as theatres of a sort.

So what, strictly speaking, is ritual? I have come to draw a distinction between "ritual" and "ceremony". Both are scripted sequences of events performed for some non-tangible purpose. You might plow your fields every day of your life, but there can be a "special" plowing "script" that is not so much about actually getting a field ready to plant as it is drawing down a blessing on the field at the beginning of Spring. Ritual and ceremony diverge in that ritual is a personal action, and ceremony is performed in a company of others. At least, those are the definitions I use.

Think of ritual as you might think of private prayer. Think of ceremony as you might a religious service. As a solitary, what I perform is ritual. It's just me, no audience, no congregation. It makes it a bit easier for me, as a theatre person, because I can concentrate on what I am doing - in the Wiccan case, that means either recentering my own view of the world, or "raising power" for magick.

So what is the purpose of ritual? What's the point of prayer? For the individual, it is a way to focus your attention on something that defies description - it's a way to center your thoughts. Eastern religions have known the power of this for millenia. Meditation is a ritual, as are Tai Chi, yoga, and a host of other methods. In yoga, breathing itself becomes ritual. For the pagan, ritual is a means for focusing your attention on the god/goddess or the five elements, depending upon which way you lean.

In my own case, the discipline of ritual helps to clear my head, as the sequence of events is pre-set and I don't have to think about the mechanics. I sometimes think that the content of the ritual is less important that the actual act itself. That brings us to the question of content. Must a ritual be centuries-old and passed-down in order to be valid? Not as far as I am concerned. I make the rituals that have meaning for me. Some Wiccan traditions hold that only those rituals with the patina of time are "real" rituals. That view is terribly narrow. After all, even the most ancient ritual was new on the first day someone performed it.

A ritual made up yesterday has as much power as one that is centuries old. This is one of the many reasons I don't bother with the "spell books" you can get detailing Wiccan magick. If the symbols and the ritual don't have meaning for you, there's no point in doing them. The best spells are the ones you make yourself. Don't waste your money.

Bottom line - your rituals should speak to you, and need only speak to you. Do what makes sense, what has value, what has meaning. The purpose of ritual is to prepare yourself for whatever purpose you intend - whether it be simple communion with the divine or the raising of power. Allow your rituals to change as your needs change.

A ritual that has outlived its meaning has outlived its usefulness.

Blessed Be

Sunday, May 08, 2005

Is there a special role for the gay man in neo-paganism?

If you have done any reading about neo-paganism and Wicca, you have probably noticed that there is a strong emphasis on the female divinity, sometimes to the exclusion of the male. Not surprising, given that all three of the world's major religions put women in the back of the bus and express the divine in exclusively male terms. Those segments of Wicca that aren't Goddess-centered are commonly focused on the dual and equal images of Male and Female in their strictly heterosexual contexts. This is so strong in many covens that only certain genders are permitted to hold certain corners in a circle, and a not insignificant portion of their magickal work centers around male/female sex energy.

That's all fine and well if you are either a radical feminist, lesbian, or rampant heterosexual - but where do gay men fit in?

I've given this a lot of thought. A LOT. I don't know that I've come to the best way of looking at this, but I have hit upon a point of view that speaks a great truth to me. I am going to use some sweeping stereotypes and some rather convenient terminology that I probably shouldn't - but it seems easier to do that than to constantly be qualifying everything I say here. Take it as read that I'm not advocating stereotypes - merely using them as unfortunately convenient shorthand.

It starts with what I consider to be one of the fundamental aspects of being gay. And it's not about sex - that's a part of the puzzle, but not the most important part. Gay men, in general, are not at all afraid of the "feminine" that is within all men. That is not to say that all gay men are flaming sissies. Not at all. Most of my friends are fairly unremarkable in that respect. You wouldn't be able to pick them out of a crowd unless they chose to be noticed. Indeed, the most centered, "whole" gay men I know are a comfortable combination of both the masculine and the feminine. In my own case, I can identify strong aspects of both in my personality.

I've always recognized within myself the emotional openness of the female, and have caught myself feeling the raging physical protective instincts of the male as well. In other words, I'm perfectly willing to beat the crap out of someone when necessary, then turn right around and spend two hours helping a friend work through a personal crisis.

Over time, I've come to see myself - and most gay men - as that unique balance of both the classically "male" and "female". Appreciating both, unintimidated by either, and revelling in the combination. It's how the most butch leatherman can be caught dishing gossip with the girls while encased in cowhide. For us, it's not a problem. We flow freely from one context to another and back again. They do not diminish each other.

That leads me to how I see gay men fitting into the pagan world view. If you look at the world of the divine in male and female terms (which seems to make the most sense, given that nearly everything in nature expresses this dichotomy), then gay men occupy a very special, sacred place. We embody both. In us is, uniquely, a balance of both the elemental forces of nature. I can stand in a circle and feel the deep strength of the Mother and the barely controlled force of the Father - and see them reflected in myself. When I raise power for magickal work, I invariably do so from both sides of the coin equally.

I think this is the thing that makes being a gay pagan so special. Unlike the world's major religions, Wicca/neo-paganism not only welcomes me, there is a unique role for me. As a gay man, within myself is the union of Spirit's duality. I am the giver and the receiver, the seed and the field, the nuturer and the protector, the Spring Maiden and the Green Man, the Goddess and the God. It is an immensely empowering space.

All of this would lead one to conclude that, perhaps, the ideal way would be bisexual. I would not disagree with that statement. My father said as much when I first came out to him. Rather than having the reaction one would expect from a career Marine officer, he commented that he thought everyone should be bisexual, and he was frustrated at being really too old to do anything about that personally. (College and a degree in Philosophy turned my redneck East-Texan father into a human being while I was in high school.) Truth be told, I've always been frustrated with myself that I can't muster sexual attraction for women as well as men. We should all be able to share that intimacy with anyone, but I guess one can't fight one's wiring. I don't ask straight men to go counter to their instincts, and I suppose I need to give myself the same slack.

Native American traditions call gay men "two-spirit people". I couldn't agree more. Because we have two spirits, we are uniquely able to call Spirit in it's whole and complete form. That's why when I cast a circle and call the corners, I don't have to call Spirit. All I have to do is introduce myself. Spirit's representative is already there.

Blessed Be