Pagan means interconnection, reciprocity and community: A response to Rabbi Wolpe and The Atlantic

Michele Reynolds, a Republican running for Congress in Ohio, was resoundingly denounced for trying to claim “jew you down” as a legitimate description for ruthlessly profit-seeking business dealings. Some people still use the lower-case term “gypsy” to mean a carefree, lascivious and irresponsible lifestyle or even “gyp” to mean stealing, but both terms are thankfully in decline. Black scholars have long railed against the use of “black” to mean everything evil, base or frightening.

We can all easily recognize these as instances in which the name of a racial, ethnic or religious group has been employed as a lower-case word with negative connotations. And yet, the December 25, 2023 issue of The Atlantic included an article by David Wolpe, a senior rabbi from Sinai Temple, that uses “pagan” as a synonym for the worship of wealth, ego and illegitimate power not once but repeatedly throughout the piece, and I haven’t heard any indication of concern from outside the Pagan community.

Defining modern or ancient Paganism as negative, fabricating false links between Paganism and Donald Trump, and supporting deceptive Nazi claims to Pagan symbols were the key points of Wolpe’s article. It had no other purpose, and as such, constituted hate speech under the US judicial definition.

Image of an ancient stone structure by Sinji and SaDIE via Flickr.com

Unfortunately, this isn’t the first time I’ve heard the word “Pagan” used and abused in this fashion, but it is telling that I’ve heard it more in the past two months than in the past twenty years. Even before the Atlantic article came out, an old friend wrote to me with concerns over my use of the term “Pagan” on this blog because of an assumption that it implies “idolatry… wealth, gluttony, and drunkenness.”

I grew up in a heavily conservative Christian area and when I was a child there was no possibility of naming our spiritual practices openly. At the time, we had no word for “Pagan.” It was the thing we didn’t name or speak of outside of a close circle. My mother legitimately feared she could lose her job if our family’s alternative spirituality was widely known. I have met many fellow Pagans who were bullied or beaten up when their beliefs were discovered, and I’ve read about the cases where children were taken away from Pagan parents without any reasonable cause.

But I did think things were improving. I may not be “out of the broom closet” the way some Pagans are in big, liberal cities—wearing pentacle or Mjolnir jewelry on a daily basis or bringing up Pagan identity in casual conversation—but I don’t hide it the way we once did. I have a large meditation altar in my living room and everybody who walks into my house should be able to get the general idea. I do wear a lot of Yggdrasil jewelry, which could be passed off as “just a pretty tree” in case of threats, and when there’s good reason and my family and I are not likely to be in direct danger, I’ll use the term Pagan publicly. And of course, I have this blog.

So, I am rather shaken and deeply troubled by Wolpe’s article in The Atlantic, which is such a brazen attack on a broad group of spiritual traditions apparently without any other purpose than to malign and defame all those who practice within it. And coming from a rabbi, it has an extra kind of sucker punch feel, because he really should know better, and because being co-outsiders in a small town, I always felt solidarity with Jewish friends.

After the Atlantic article came out a close family member who has often participated in Pagan-adjacent practices referred me to the article and sharply criticized me when I attempted to explain the false premise of defining the term “Pagan” with negative attributes from the outset. If this kind of defamation can have that dramatic of an effect on someone who was previously inclined to be friendly toward Pagan beliefs, I am disturbed to think how it is likely perceived by those with less access to context.

So, let’s look at the issue through Wolpe’s own words. There’s a clue from the get-go in the fact that Wolpe insists on using “pagan” with a small P. This is a linguistic sign employed in a wide variety of contexts to imply that one is not referring to a legitimate cultural group, but rather to an attribute. This is why Black writers often insist on capitalization and why, if and when the Roma use the term “Gypsy,” they capitalize it. Those who wish to dismiss and degrade those groups will often insist on keeping the lower case. It is similar with “Pagan” versus “pagan.”

In any legitimate set of journalistic or scholarly style guidelines, we all know the term should be capitalized when referring to a specific cultural or religious group. Wolpe’s use of small-P “pagan” to refer to ancient Greeks and Romans as well as to modern Pagans is a clear violation of professional style and likely an intentional slap in the face.

But you don’t have to look to semantics to find Wolpe’s glaring prejudice and false premise. In the first paragraph, he asserts that Donald Trump and Elon Musk are “more than a little bit pagan” because of their “wealth worship and ideological imperialism of ego.” He’s basically setting up his definition of terms here, while also using unpopular figures as a cheap way to sling mud. He later states his stereotype in the most direct possible of terms: “The current worship of wealth is a pagan excrescence.”

But defining Pagan as “wealth worship” is no different than defining Gypsy as “wild and dishonest,” Black as “primitive and frightening” or Jew as “greedy and ruthless.” It’s a blunt force stereotype used to begin a pseudo-philosophical discussion on a false premise in order to denigrate a particular group of people.

In reality, the term Pagan was first employed by Christians in fourth-century Rome to mean those who had not converted to Christianity and who continued to practice polytheist religions. In pure linguistics, the term meant “civilian,” “rural” or “rustic,” and it was likely adopted for this use because, at the time, the imperial and military power was Christian and it was primarily rural people who continued the old religion. It has been retroactively used to refer to polytheists in the biblical age when there were wealthy Pagan empires, including Rome before its Christian conversion, but it was not a term anyone at that time would have recognized.

That said, while we may retroactively apply the term “Pagan” to wealthy polytheist empires, that no more equates Paganism with the worship of wealth, empire or ego than it does to equate the teachings of Jesus with those same negative values because the Roman Empire was Christian for hundreds of years, the Austro-Hungarian Empire hinged on ostentatious displays of Christian wealth and the crowning of kings as “Holy Roman Emperor,” and the British Empire was explicitly founded on forced conversions to Christianity.

Wolpe offers no historical facts to back his equation of Paganism to the worship of power and wealth, but simply states glaring stereotypes, as if they were well-known facts, such as, “Wealth is a cover for, or a means to, the ultimate object of worship in a pagan society, which is power.”

While there have been empires employing Pagan and polytheist religions, it is impossible to defend a claim that these represented the majority of ancient Pagans. Had Wolpe used “imperial” in place of small-P “pagan” in every instance in his article, it would have actually made a great deal of sense. But then, that would have called up some troubling connotations about American—as well as other monotheist—imperialism.

Were there polytheist cults that went overboard on the worship of imperial rulers or which made the collection of ostentatious wealth part of the veneration of their gods? Archeology says "yes”—just as Christians built massive cathedrals, glittering with gold, at a time when the vast majority of the population in Europe was starving and just as the Jewish temples of Jesus’ time were being used to amass wealth. None of us can claim purity in this regard, but this is an aberration outside the core teachings in Paganism, as I believe it is in Christianity and Judaism as well.

Wolpe continues with a history lesson based on falsehood: “Most ancient pagan belief systems were built around ritual and magic, coercive practices intended to achieve a beneficial result. They centered the self. The revolutionary contribution of monotheism was its insistence that the principal concern of God is, instead, how people treat one another.”

Let’s take this apart step by step. First, the best way to see what “most ancient Pagan belief systems” were like is to look at the indigenous belief systems that have survived more in tact because they were colonized by monotheist empires more recently or not at all. The vast majority of ancient Pagans lived in tribal, rather than imperial societies. While much of ancient European tribal culture has been obscured by Christian conquest, scholars assert that the Celtic, Norse and other ancient European spiritual traditions bore a striking resemblance to Native American, African, Australian Aboriginal and other indigenous belief systems in which community, family, reciprocity, humility and respect for other living beings are primary values.

But what about Wolpe’s contention that Pagans both ancient and modern are all about “ritual and magic?” Many Pagans do tout the importance of one or both of these.

First, there is overlap between Witchcraft (often defined as the practice of magic outside of prayer) and modern Paganism. But there are also Christian, Jewish and atheist practitioners of Witchcraft today who will tell you they are not Pagan. And there are many Pagans who don’t practice magic of any kind. Witchcraft, like Buddhist meditation, is a self-help practice for most adherents. There are of course Wiccans and religious Buddhists who complicate this equation by making these practices their religions, but for many this is not the case.

Of course, some Pagans do practice a lot of ritual and ask for things they want in prayer to their deities. So do many monotheists. These are pretty much things you have to do in order to get tax exempt status as an official religion, if one were to apply for that. It is a bit ridiculous to say that because Pagans pray for beneficial outcomes to their problems and engage in religious ritual, that our practices are “coercive” and our beliefs “center the self,” more than those of monotheist religions. Rather, most Pagan traditions we know about both modern and ancient require practitioners to view their individual needs and wants in the context of an interconnected world, in which all deserve respect and in which the gods may not be able to heed your prayers precisely because there are other needs in the world.

I study the teachings of the Druid revival of the 18th century. In this tradition and in modern Druidry, the primary prayer is for knowledge and understanding, from which Druids believe other benefits flow. Such prayers are never without the real world follow-up of study and meditation. Another prayer included in most Druid ceremonies calls for peace in all corners of the world. There is nothing in these traditions that remotely resembles the negative image constructed by Rabbi Wolpe.

As for the claim that monotheism brought in a revolutionary idea about the kind treatment of others, that is part of a biblical myth but it isn’t grounded in fact. Indigenous societies have espoused ideals of selflessness, generosity, care for the sick, care for the natural environment, care for children and elders, care for strangers and travelers, as well as the reciprocal relationship between the wealthy and the poor for millennia. Ancient Greek sagas give concrete historical evidence of this and while many other traditions were not written down in ancient times, there is no evidence that these values were changed for the better by contact with monotheism. What remains of ancient European Pagan ethics comes through mythology, preserved sagas and through the Norse Eddas. Like the Bible, the Torah and the Koran these sources are a mixed bag when it comes to being kind versus cruel.

The Havamal, the portion of the Eddas most credited with giving ethical advice, is probably the best we have for reflecting ancient Pagan ideas of ethics the way the Bible, the Torah or the Koran does for Christians, Jews and Muslims. Here are a few quotes with verse number and translation cited:

“Fire he needs who with frozen knees has come from the cold without; food and clothes must the farer have, the man from the mountains come.” (3. Belllows)

“He craves for water, who comes for refreshment, drying and friendly bidding, marks of good will, fair fame if ‘tis won, and welcome once and again.” (4. Bray)

Image. of a candle shaped like a cat, a crystal sphere and other pagan decorations - image by Arie Farnam

In these passages, we clearly see the widespread Pagan values of generosity, hospitality and care for wanderers and the poor. Every modern indigenous tradition and every ancient Pagan canon of mythology includes stories and teachings which advise kindness, care for the vulnerable, offerings as sustenance for the poor, sharing and wealth redistribution. I have studied dozens of traditions and always come across these teachings in tribal societies. It is likely that this is no coincidence, since societies based on tribal and family groupings rely on these values for survival, while empires—whether Pagan, Christian or any other—often stray from values of reciprocity in favor of concentrated power and wealth.

“A man shall not boast of his keeness of mind, but keep it close in his breast; To the silent and wise does ill come seldom.” (6. Bellows)

Here we see the very common Pagan lesson on humility even in intellectual matters. The need for humility among the strong and able-bodied is also showcased in the legend of the defeat in mock battle of the strongest and most robust Norse god Thor by the ancient and frail goddess Ela, who carries the symbology of old age. It is not difficult to read into that the lesson that old age and infirmity come for even the strongest among us eventually and thus humility is wise.

“Not reft of all is he who is ill, for some are blessed in their children, some in their kin, and some in their wealth, and some in working well.” (69. Bray)

Here we can see that the ancient Norse valued wealth but also many other things. The passage doesn’t say which of these is the greater or the lesser. The point is rather that blessings come in many forms. It may be a call to gratitude, for even if one lacks health or family or wealth, there are other blessings to be thankful for. It may be a call for humility to those that do have some of these blessings, because one very rarely has them all.

This is just a tiny sampling of ancient Pagan teachings on issues of wealth, humility, sharing and the like. I’m not here to argue that all ancient Pagans were paragons of virtue, humility or selfless love for their fellow man. There are verses in the Havamal that imply women are all a bunch of schemers or in which might makes right.

But remember Wolpe was comparing Pagan teachings to monotheist belief systems where the god curses women for all time because one woman wanted knowledge, a man is ready to kill his child because god told him to, the god orders the annihilation of entire nations including all the women and children, slaves are ordered to submit to their masters, and the idea of one lord above all is repeated endlessly. But somehow Wolpe decided Pagans are the ones with the negative teachings about power, wealth and empire.

Next, Wolpe turns to the worship of physical beauty as a supposed Pagan value: “The Greeks taught that the rich and powerful and beautiful were favored by the gods.” This is not borne out by historical evidence. While there is the occasional mention that the gods bestowed a gift of beauty or wealth on this or that mythical hero or heroine, they were just as likely to punish pride and vanity. Of course, some people throughout history have viewed good fortune, wealth, beauty or talents as implying the favor of their god or gods and thus their personal superiority. But monotheists have fallen for this logical and ethical error as much as Pagans ever did.

Wolpe then digresses into a troubling section in which he implies that the Nazi obsession with blue eyes and blonde hair actually represented an objective standard of beauty, rather than their own biased and contradictory interpretation of the concept. He drags Paganism into it without any factual link and states, “The veneration of physical beauty, the Instagramization of culture, is pagan to its roots.” There is nothing in Paganism either modern or ancient about the adoration of physical beauty, though Pagans don’t explicitly shun the human body as some monotheists have. Both polytheists and monotheists have their examples of opulence in honor of gods and both have their examples of asceticism. This is just Wolpe again implying an underlying assumption of Paganism as a term with inherent negative connotations.

It is hard to conceive of why The Atlantic or anyone else would see Wolpe as an expert worth such high profile publishing, given that he cannot get even the most easily verifiable facts correct. He states for instance: “January 6 made Jacob Chansley, the “QAnon Shaman,’ with his bare chest and Norse headdress, instantly notorious.” (The emphasis is mine.) That a so-called scholar of any type would call Chansley’s headdress “Norse” in the age of easily accessible information is embarrassing to say the least. The Norse never had horns on their helmets. There have been cartoon representations of Vikings with horns on their helmets in pop culture, but this bears no resemblance to historical or archeological fact and a “scholar” really should look further than cartoons for their sources. On the contrary, it is Native American culture Chansley was misappropriating with the fur-lined and feather-ornamented headdress he wore for the insurrection. Some Native American groups did historically use ceremonial horned headdresses and several Native American writers have protested his misappropriation of their cultural symbols.

But Wolpe is on a roll and continues digging his hole into alternative facts: “The Norse were people of conquest, rape, and pillage, at least in the popular imagination.” Well, at least he admits that what he is basing his information on is actually “the popular imagination.” The Norse were no more or less a “people of conquest, rape and pillage” than the Christians or the Mongols. The Norse were not all Vikings, which was a small subculture akin to pirates in other eras. The vast majority of moderately educated people today know some or all of this, but somehow Wolpe is given a prominent publishing platform for his hate-filled rant of ignorance.

As the article progresses, there are hints of the grievances that underlie Wolpe’s tirade, such as his glib soundbite, “Hug a tree or a dollar bill, and the pagan in you shines through.” Could it be that what Wolpe really dislikes so strongly is the environmental movement?

Much of the latter part of the article is focused on equating the movement for ecological protection, as well as all Pagans, with an obscure quote by the animal-rights activist Peter Singer which appears to support euthanasia for children suffering from extreme pain or complete incapacity because they should have the same “right to mercy” as animals that are “put down.” This is Wolpe’s weird twist on the animist world view of many Pagans which holds that humans are not categorically superior to other living beings and that everything has a soul. It’s just about the only place where Wolpe actually touched on a real Pagan value, although in an extremely distorted manner.

Yes, most modern and ancient Pagan traditions as well as most indigenous belief systems share a sense of human kinship with the natural world. We do not see ourselves as elevated by an all powerful god as rulers of the natural world. We also do not see the gods as authoritarian rulers over us. The Pagan worldview is one of interconnection and reciprocity, rather than hierarchy, precisely the point that Wolpe spent the first part of the article missing.

So, what is the truth about Pagan views of the value of human life versus animal or plant life? Frankly, it varies widely, just as it does among monotheists. Some Pagans are vegetarian because they see animals as relatives. Other Pagans are not vegetarian precisely because we see all living things as interconnected and required to live off of the deaths of other beings, and we do not view animals as morally superior to plants.

That does not mean we devalue our own lives or the lives of other humans. Most Pagans accept that it is natural and right to protect life and particularly the lives of those who depend on you. That is why we would be more likely to fight for the life of a human child than for an insect. We owe human children a higher level of protection and nurture because of natural bonds. The same applies to animals we domesticate. Still, most modern Pagans are less likely than some monotheists today to see the deaths of certain human children as more tragic than others because we do not see those who are different from us as less worthy. Furthermore, we are humble and regretful about any need to take animal or plant life, rather than claiming it as our due as superior beings.

What strikes me in this is that Wolpe accuses Pagans of being self-focused and obsessed with power and hierarchy, but then is disturbed that we are insufficiently focused on the authority of an all-powerful god and insufficiently self-obsessed to see ourselves as superior to the natural world. The contradiction is telling and in combination with the countless factual inaccuracies, the article turns out to be one of the most embarrassing pieces of un-scholarship I’ve ever seen.

The Atlantic is no doubt swamped with angry letters from Pagans. While I don’t see anyone else concerned by this show of hate speech, the Pagan community is certainly worried and alarmed. Even so, my natural instinct toward outrage is humbled by the calm and compassionate responses of many Pagan leaders, such as Holli Emore, executive director of Cherry Hill Seminary, who sent a letter to Rabbi Wolpe inviting him to a conversation on the topic without any criticism or rancur over the hate-inciting rhetoric he employed. Wolpe replied dismissively that he is too busy for any such conversation and claimed he never directed his condemnation at any particular group of people.

Emore and others like her have shown admirable restraint in their responses to this open declaration of hate toward our community. I take a lesson in humility from them, but I remain worried about the impact of this type of manipulative message, in which the underlying definition of terms is the vehicle for hate and condemnation of an entire religious group. Had Jews or Muslims or Native Americans or Christians been the target, I would be deeply concerned as well. The history of where this kind of rhetoric all too often leads has not even had a chance to gather dust.

The spiritual divide that matters

Are you spiritual, not religious? Are you a polytheist, not a monotheist? Are you traditional, not eclectic? Or the reverse?

Do any of these distinctions matter a great deal?

Not really. There are reasons to be “spiritual” and reasons to be “religious” (i.e. seeking spirituality in community). I am not particularly interested in whether or not a person believes in one god or many. I am not even particularly worried about how traditional or how eclectic someone else is, as long as they let others pursue their own path in peace.

Image by Jannis of flickr.com

There is essentially only one divide in spiritual paths I am really concerned about and that is how grounded in their everyday life their beliefs are.

Do you live your beliefs? Do you practice what you preach? Does your spiritual tradition focus mainly on an ethereal soul and reaching higher levels of enlightnement/grace or is it concerned with what you are doing today, what your voice speaks and what your hands create?

Those are the important questions

Why don’t I include open-mindedness in that? How tolerant and benevolent toward others a spiritual path is? Well, just about every path claims to be benevolent. So again, the important question is integrity of practice.

Some paths, such as mystical forms of Buddhism, may appear to focus exclusively on the ethereal level without regard to the here and now, yet when you look at how their most experienced practitioners move through the world, it is clear that living their beliefs moment by moment is of crucial importance.

On the other hand, there are many religious denominations today, particularly in wealthy, “advanced” countries, which encourage members to view spirituality as something you come to do once a week or once a day at a proscribed time and place. There are certain prohibitions for mundane life, usually involving gender, sex and/or eating to ensure personal purity, but beyond that there is little connection between spirituality and the rest of life.

Some define this as a difference between orthodoxy and orthopraxy. There are paths where it is primarily important that you believe the right things—orthodoxy—and paths where it is more important that you do the right things—orthopraxy.

A common phrase among Christian fundamentalists has it that “there are many good people in hell.” Doing right is not the key there. It is believing the right thing—orthodoxy.

By contrast, modern western Pagans are fond of bragging that our beliefs are about orthopraxy—i.e. doing right. But some of those boasters only mean doing right inside the ritual space.

Certainly, it is difficult to discuss integrity when a community claims—as modern western Pagans often do today—that there is no unified ethic or belief to bind them. But each practice does have its own implicit ethics, whether we want to acknowledge them or not.

If you venerate ancestors, that implies something that is sacred. It clearly implies an imperative to honor the elderly and render real aid at least within your family. If you call on the elements, that requires a respect for those elements. To do right would then be to actively protect against the trashing of the earth, the polluting of the water and the poisoning of the air.

Some will say that ethereal enlightenment somehow in the end circles back to take care of the material aspects of spirituality. But I would rather choose the motto of “fake it ‘til ya make it.”

I often sit in my morning meditation, distracted, emotional or even angry. The other day, instead of sitting and chanting spiritually uplifting sounds or being in the moment, I yelled at my matron goddess because the burden I have been given when it comes to family hardship, social prejudice and personal trauma had reached the point where it was more than I could bear.

Yup, not very enlightened.

And my orthodoxy is pretty messed up. I’m not sure if my goddess has any part in handing me the trials and lessons of my life or if she is my guide through them or if I am a pair of hands and a voice for her in the material world. Or all of the above. My theology goes through hesitant cycles.

But I do better with the practical part. I go out to feed the animals each morning, breaking the ice on the ducks’ trough with reverence. I give greetings to the chickens and the fir trees and the linden. I smile at the softly steaming compost and at the pink and cobalt sky of winter.

I light homemade candles and incense as offerings. I teach my children to look for what each season has to offer. I read stories and cook seasonally and as much as possible from what we grow or bargain for locally. I think of the earth and our non-human family with each decision to buy, work or recreate.

My matron goddess is Brigid, so for me anything regarding keeping the home and hearth, adoptive parenting, healing and working with medicinal herbs, writing and story-telling or even crafts of making things like soaps and candles is part of my relationship with her. And as such, I strive to do these things in line with her virtues.

Clearly I’m not perfect in that. I am not her, only one of hers.

My openness to others and the spiritual paths of others is broad and wide with this one criterion. I do care how grounded your beliefs are. How do you manifest them in your daily life? I have shared my home and hearth with many a Christian, Jew, Buddhist, Muslim and Pagan, and I have always found that if we see eye to eye on that, we have no quarrel, only interesting philosophical conversations.

And while I will admit that having a belief in something that makes ethics sacred is one reason I prefer spirituality to atheism, there is integrity for atheists too. It just isn’t simple and it tends to be truly individual. Whatever you believe is right in theory, should also be your practice. That is it at the core.

Identity for children in Pagan and mixed households

When I was a child, it bugged me every time someone asked me, "What are you?" meaning "What religion do you follow?" That wasn't because I didn't want to be asked. It bugged me even more, when they just assumed I was Christian like 95 percent of everyone in the community around us.

It bugged be because I had no words for it. 

I grew up in a time and place where earth-centered spirituality was kept under wraps and publicly admitting it could very well lead to employment problems and/or an investigation by Child Protective Services. It was probably a good thing that I had no words for the little rituals, rune drawing, Tarot cards and quarter calling that I participated in with my mother's circle. And I survived the quiet longing for something more openly stated pretty well. 

Image by Arie Farnam

But today most Neopagans have no such external restraints on giving our children a spiritual identity. Instead we are caught in the dilemma of whether and how much to hand our kids the ready-made Pagan identity. 

This goes beyond the concern that some adult Pagan events don't or can't reasonably include children. There are plenty of ways a child can be involved in earth-centered or even specific Neopagan practice. The feasts of the Wheel of the Year provide plenty of kid-friendly fun, inspiration and tradition, even if that is all a child is exposed to. 

But many earth-centered parents have either seen friends undergo or undergone themselves the forcing of a religious identity in childhood. The major religions today, other than Paganism, insist that children born within them should be held to them. Many Pagans who weren't born into an earth-centered path are Pagans specifically because they fled the oppressive atmosphere of religions that force an identity and practice on children.

So naturally we don't want to become just as bad as what so many of us struggled to free ourselves from. And the issue of how much to develop family-centered traditions permeates Pagan parenting discussions.

In my family, that dilemma intersects with another long-standing controversy in Neopaganism--the issue of ethnic identity. There are many mixed-race families in Paganism today. I've run into Norse-tradition Heathens who are half-Scandinavian and half-African but naturally to Europeans look more African than Scandinavian. There are Irish-East Indians. a great many people with mixed European and Native American background and many Pagans whose ancestry is all over the map.

And in my family and several others, there is the issue of inter-ethnic adoption. Life takes us down unexpected paths and ours led my husband and I to adopt two children who happen to be of a different ethnicity. They are Romani (ethnic Gypsies) and as such there is some debate over whether or not they qualify as ethnic Europeans, since their ancestors came to Europe from India somewhat more recently than most Europeans. 

Illustration from the Pagan children's book Shanna and the Pentacle, Copyright Julie Freel 2015

This type of thing isn't a controversy because we believe that one must follow the Pagan tradition of one's genetic ancestors. There have certainly been plenty of non-Celtic Wiccans while other Wiccans claimed some connection between Wicca and ancient Celtic traditions. But it is uncommon to find a Slavic reconstructionist Pagan who doesn't have at least some Slavic genetic background. And when it comes to children, it is particularly important to honor their own unique genetic heritage.

It's an unarguable fact that most earth-centered traditions share a deep connection with ancestors and the land on which ancestors lived. Certainly we can and do honor ancestors connected to us by our tradition, craft or beliefs as well as those of blood and nation. But it is hard to entirely ignore the issue without some doubts of authenticity creeping in.

There is very little scholarly work to be found documenting original Romani spirituality. There are always rumors and plenty of people who will claim their Romani grandmother passed great Pagan spiritual traditions down to them. But Romani people still living in the Romani communities today usually vehemently deny much of what these revelations claim. While the Roma as a people have held on to their language and culture far more fiercely than most other small, landless ethnic groups, they are chameleons when it comes to religion. 

Wherever Romani communities are found today, they match the religion of the majority society. In Muslim areas, they are Muslim. in Catholic areas they are Catholic and in Orthodox areas they are Orthodox. Whatever is left of their original spiritual traditions is well buried. 

And so I not only stand in the usual dilemma of most Pagan parents today, but also on an ethnic divide, where one side is almost entirely unavailable. I feel a strong connection to the ancestors and spirit of the Central European landscape where I now live and to Celtic traditions. But neither of those seems to have much to do with my children. My altar carries ancestral symbols for everyone in our household--Celtic, Norse, Romani and Slavic. And when I honor ancestors of blood, I honor them all.

But I am hesitant to tell my children what they should be. 

I tell them they are Romani and teach them to be proud and not to hide it. I tell them their citizenship in two countries. I tell them about Romani ancestry and about mine and that of my husband. I tell them that the spiritual traditions we practice are sometimes called Pagan. 

But there is a line where I stop. I don't tell my children they should call themselves Pagan.

I have pointed out when someone identifies as Christian or Pagan or Muslim, explaining what it means to identify yourself that way. But I leave their own identity open to them with enough words and experience imparted that when they do want to choose i hope they will know something about what they are choosing.

So far, my nine-year-old daughter wants nothing to do with spirituality. She refuses to enter churches and avoids my altars and Tarot cards, and she always has. My seven-year-old son, on the other hand, often asks to light a candle on the altar, colors pictures from Pooka Pages, asks to draw a Tarot card, spontaneously says a Pagan morning prayer sometimes and requests Pagan songs for his piano lessons. These are all things he is exposed to because of adults around him.  

This is the wavering line I've decided to walk in parenting between too mysterious an identity and forced identity. 

We read myths and other stories from a Pagan worldview. I have even authored several Pagan children's books, illustrated by the children's grandmother. I don't hide my rituals or altars and I sing a short blessing song before important meals (though not before all meals). We occasionally meet up with another Pagan family with young children for holidays.

We celebrate the eight holidays of the Wheel of the Year as a family with specific earth-centered traditions. My husband enjoys the traditions and the focus on nature but isn't particularly spiritually inclined. So some of the holidays aren't overtly spiritual. It's just what we do and it adds a pleasant, natural rhythm to the year. 

There are many different paths to walk in Pagan parenting and it is beyond my station to say what is right or wrong in it. The Shanna books (Shanna and the Raven, Shanna and the Pentacle and Shanna and the Water Fairy) portray a single-parent household that is somewhat more overtly Pagan than mine. The children in the story are older than my kids and have a more developed sense of their identity.

But much of the conversation and holiday traditions practiced by the fictional family of the story is similar to what our family and many others do. The second book, Shanna and the Pentacle, weaves a story around the issues of identity that kids in middle childhood often face.

In this spring-equinox themed story, eleven-year-old Shanna has to consciously acknowledge what her pentacle necklace means, though she previously thought of it mainly as a gift from a friend. And she has to learn to stand up for herself in the face of pressure in a society where Pagans aren't the majority. The story is one that is close to home for most kids in Pagan families and Shanna's adventures along the way prepare her to make her own decisions about identity. 

I wrote that story and the others as part of my quest to find the right balance of information, experience and freedom of choice for my kids. My parenting is a work in progress and I love to hear from other parents dealing with related issues. Please leave comments below if you are inspired.

How do you approach passing on your values and beliefs to your children? Is your family mixed? How do you approach holidays with extended family that may have different traditions? What is the hardest part of parenting children in an earth-centered spiritual tradition? What's the easiest or most fun part? I look forward to reading your experiences.

Why I don't call it Christmas

I could sense the palpable relief in my children's Jewish piano teacher when I wished her a happy new year in October. Now she smiles bemusedly at our tree calendar that only goes up to the 21st of December and says, "It's not that I mind Christmas music really. I just wish we didn't have to play the same songs non-stop for a month every year at every concert."

She is very good at playing and teaching both English and American Christmas music but she is relieved that I don't necessarily want her to teach my children the standard Czech Christmas carols on the piano. Instead I printed out the sheet music for Yule song and she was delighted. Anything as long as it's a change.

Creative Commons image by storebukkebruse of Flickr.com

I don't have anything against Christmas either. In fact, I rather like Christmas music, even some of the very religious carols. They are beautiful and expressive of the joy and hope of the season. I'm more than happy to wish my Christian friends "Merry Christmas" but I don't celebrate the mass of Christ.

There is no "war on Christmas" here. Quite the opposite.

I stand by my Christian friends who find spiritual solace in Christmas. That is what it should be about. Calling everything in the season Christmas, and primarily the big commercial bonanza of December being called "Christmas" is what truly dilutes and distracts from Christmas. Sure, joy, gifts and frivolity are part of Christmas, much as they are part of Yule and Winter Solstice celebrations. I'm not saying one must be solemn to have real Christmas.

But I hear Christians saying that there is more to Christmas than the commercialism. There is a spiritual core that they struggle to make the center of their homes at this time. That's worth supporting.

And part of that for me is avoiding the temptation to just call it Christmas when in mixed company, when I mean my own family celebrations, which are so clearly not Christmas, or even when referring to secular community events. I don't really want to have a long drawn-out conversation about my spirituality and culture every time I try to wish someone a good holiday.

So, I feel the pressure to conform too. Just say, "Merry Christmas" and just call it a "Christmas tree" in front of other people. So much simpler. 

Except that every time I give in to the impulse, I feel like I steal from my children, cheapen my own spirituality and disrespect my Christian friends--even if some Christians demand that people call everything that isn't Christmas "Christmas."

I grew up with earth-based spirituality, but we still called the winter holiday Christmas and the celebrations in my family were almost entirely secular. I know not all children are spiritually inclined but I always felt an uncomfortable shame about it. I knew we didn't do "real Christmas" and that seemed to mean that we were fakes.  

Our house was an idyllic cabin in the mountains with snow usually piled all around it, a tree with colored lights and home-made ornaments. There was an assortment of my mom's cookies and the delicious excitement of Santa Clause. But there was also a sharp yearning for something more, something with a deeper meaning. 

I sang Christmas carols at school and always felt guilty about taking joy in the story of Christ's birth, as if I had no right to it. But oh, it was a beautiful story and the tunes made my chest ache. Something was reborn. That I knew.

My mother did tell me about the solstice, but we still called it "Christmas" and celebrated on the 25th. When I realized that I had a choice, that I could call it Solstice and celebrate on the 21st, I finally felt truly free. It is unquestionably the right thing for me. But I'll admit that it hasn't always been easy dealing with the rest of the world. 

Even my own brothers make a bit of fun at my expense during the holidays because of my constant use of Solstice and Yule terminology. Even though they aren't any more Christian than I am. They seem to feel that I am demanding something extra from them.

But I don't mind how they celebrate. I can work an extended family celebration on the 24th or 25th into my Yule just fine. I'm glad we aren't all the same. I'm not trying to spoil Christmas or make anyone's life more difficult. 

I am simply trying to be real and respectful, while focusing on the meanings that are deeper than strategic gift buying. I joyfully accept a lot of "Merry Christmas" wishes in my community and don't care too much. But it does matter to me if someone takes the time to say Happy Solstice or Merry Yule to me. It means you are thinking about the deeper meanings of the holiday too.

I do wish that the drumbeat of " Christmas"  was less prominent at school, because my children have already internalized the belief that there is something shameful about our family celebrations. That's why when I'm out and about, you might here me refer to the school holiday program as a Solstice program or the town tree as a Solstice tree. Yet when something really is connected to the celebrations of Christians, I am happy to call it "Christmas." 

Happy Hanukkah! Blessed Solstice and merry Yule! Merry Christmas! Good Festival of Lights! Joyous Mawlid un-Nabi! Lovely Lohri! Bright wishes of joy and peace to all!