So, there are a number of bloggers in the Pagan blogosphere who have decided that "Pagan" is the wrong label. A large number of them are of the hard polytheist and/or Reconstructionist strain, although not all of them. And there have been a number of reaction posts about them from folks who do still claim the label.
One of the better posts has been P. Sufenas Virius Lupus's post on the Queer I Stand blog, Bringing Back The Gods, which pointed up some of the various branches of the large clump of practices we call Pagan that have been leaning away from theistic language, much less polytheistic. Christine Kraemer replied with Three Legs on the Pagan Cauldron: Must Pagans Be Polytheists?, which points out that polytheism is only one of three major threads of the Pagan conglomeration; she identifies the other two as "earth-based spirituality" and "Goddess worship," although that last is qualified somewhat.
While I would argue that there are some other threads in Pagan identity that are almost as important as those three, if not more so (I personally would argue that "magick/divination/energy work" has been at least as important in the development of the Witchcraft traditions, and that the presence or absence of that thread is one of the huge stumbling blocks between Witches of any stripe and the hardcore Reconstructionists), I basically like Kraemer's argument. It to a certain extent illuminates why I function well in the Pagan community but rarely feel quite at home. As far as I can tell, I've always been at heart both a cosmos-worshipper (I'll not limit it to Earth; much as I love Terra Mater, a lot of my personal worship has been sky- and water-focused) and a polytheist, and for me those are largely welded together. I didn't have to be told about dryads and naiads; I just needed to find out their names. And I took a wide turn through Goddess Spirituality over the course of my 20s, which I desperately needed to do to shed the dead skin of the Yahvism I was brought up in, but that largely didn't stick. All of my patrons are goddesses except for the Green Man, who I think is really more a daimon than a theos - but I don't think of Them as aspects of The Goddess, except in the sense that I think of myself and the Spouse and my lovers as aspects of Humanity. I mean, from a certain point of view, it's true that we are, and They are, but that's not generally how any of us think of ourselves, and it's not terribly useful when dealing with us.
That's fine for me, but it doesn't really help much when dealing with members of my community who are nature-focused Goddess worshippers who couldn't care less about the names by which they call divinity. And more and more, I'm realizing that the Fun Maven contingent largely falls into that category, or more properly pair of categories. It's not that they have any animosity towards those of us who care about historical accuracy; they just don't care, and can't imagine why we would. This also seems to be the default orientation of CUUPs groups, which saddens me greatly - who the Queen of Heaven is that we're offering these cakes to is of great concern to me (hint: it's one of Astarte, Asherah, or Shapshu), but for them, that there is a Queen at all is sufficient revelation.
I mentioned the magickal thread a couple of paragraphs ago. I'd be lying through my teeth if I didn't admit that it was almost as strong a thread drawing me to my current path as polytheism and cosmos-worship were, and that's one of the reasons that I still call myself a Witch despite not really identifying with Wicca per se. And, despite caring about historicity, it's one of the reasons I don't really fit in with most of the Reconstructionist groups - most of them limit magick to either liminal roles or very specific circumstances, if they accept it at all. Like most practitioners, I simultaneously know that it's a load of tosh and experience that it works, often quite powerfully, which seems to be the standard paradox of magick. And while the festival Fun Mavens are often as into magick as I am, the CUUPsers tend not to be.
However, one of the reasons I still quite like Pagan as an identity is that it is more explicit about (or at least inclusive of) the polytheistic aspect than Wiccan or Witch is, while not so specific as to start cutting off some of the magickal or earth-focused aspects, like many of the specific Reconstructionist labels do. While "Polytheist" is certainly accurate in my case, it does leave out both the cosmos-worship aspects (some polytheists did that, some didn't) and the magickal aspects (many historical polytheists were quite suspicious of magickal practices, nearly as much so as the monotheists turned out to be). I also associate Pagan with more sex-positivity than most of the other available labels, too, although I know that's not always an accurate association. Still, of what we have, it does best in my case. Until someone comes up with something better, I'll stick with it.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Sunday, January 13, 2013
The Temple and the Bed
I've been wrestling a bit with notions of sacred sexuality recently. Part of that is part and parcel of having grown up raised by a Catholic, even if the greater part of my own religious education was Protestant; the notion that there is something sacramental to, if not marriage, then the various things it's bundled with in the eyes of the church, not least of them sex and reproduction, is tenacious. Since the latter is pretty much off the table for me on this turn of the great wheel, sex it is, then.
Unfortunately, there's a lot of difference of opinion on whether sacred sex was part of common practice in the Near East in the pre-Christian era. I'm reasonably comfortable with the idea that it was part of esoteric and magickal practice in that time and place, mostly because it ends up being part of at least one group's esoteric teachings in pretty much every culture, largely because it works. But in many times and places it's been esoteric precisely because it's perceived as problematic, if not perverted, by the culture at large. It's not clear whether the Mesopotamian-Levantine cultures were more open about it or not, mostly because there's not a whole lot of direct evidence. We know that there was prostitution, and that not all prostitutes were lower-class. We know that some temples had priestesses in many different positions, some artistic, some administrative, and some ritual. And there are hints and suggestions in the surviving artwork that some rituals required male and female nudity, or at least exposure of the penis and/or breasts. As far as hard evidence goes, that's about it.
Purity codes were a big thing in the region at the time. The Hebrew Bible is full of them, occasionally conflicting. And the Hebrew purity codes take a hard line against a large number of sexual acts, although not prostitution per se. In many cases, the justification isn't so much "the Lord thinks this is gross" as it is "this is what the other people do, and you're not them, so don't". There has been a great deal of ink spilled over the idea that this is code for "these acts are sacred to other gods, and you're not theirs, so don't". I admit, the idea is in some ways appealing - perhaps Yahveh hates Teh Buttsecks, but Ba'al, Asherah, and Astarte are very much in favor of it. Unfortunately, the documentation left by those other nations is incomplete, and does not tell us whether this is so, or whether they had their own purity codes in which they said not to do those same acts for other reasons.
On the other hand, the Greeks seemed to think that there was actual temple prostitution going on in Assyria/Babylon. At least, their travelogues state outright that there was. They don't seem to think much of it, but then, the Greeks never seemed to think much of traditions that differed from their own, and they exoticized other cultures pretty much the same way we do. So, even if they terribly misinterpreted what was going on, there seems to be some sort of officially sanctioned sex going on on temple grounds at least somewhere in the region. But once again, those who were actually participating in it, who understood the rules and the rationale, didn't leave records of their own. So we basically have two fairly prudish sets of literate people, with their own agendas against the practitioners, accusing the Levanto-Mesopotamian peoples of inappropriate religious sex.
The Ba'al saga doesn't have much to say on the matter, except for some weird tension between Ba'al and Asherah that causes problems in the translation. Asherah is mentioned holding an object - most translations say "spindle" - that Ba'al later has a very bad reaction to when it appears on his banquet table. It is unclear why, but Ba'al's reaction suggests that the object has sexual connotations of some sort. In two of her other appearances in the preserved stories, Asherah's appearance before El causes him to immediately start talking about sex, including a few dirty jokes, but then again, they're married. Still, in the sparse material we have, Asherah does seem to have an immediate association with some sort of sexuality; it isn't a stretch to suggest that there might have been at least symbolic sexual rites in her temples. The same is loosely true of Astarte, Ishtar, and Inanna in their respective stories, and perhaps Cybele and Atargatis as well.
At any rate, sacred sexuality doesn't have to be part of the exoteric rites for modern Pagans to add it to their own practices. It's more that it would be nice to know what was done before so that we can adapt it, rather than trying to come up with something from what we now have; a lot of what we've got borrows heavily from Hindu and Taoist practices, and if one is going to go around appropriating peoples' culture, better it be ones your own culture didn't oppress (by virtue of their having been long gone).
Unfortunately, there's a lot of difference of opinion on whether sacred sex was part of common practice in the Near East in the pre-Christian era. I'm reasonably comfortable with the idea that it was part of esoteric and magickal practice in that time and place, mostly because it ends up being part of at least one group's esoteric teachings in pretty much every culture, largely because it works. But in many times and places it's been esoteric precisely because it's perceived as problematic, if not perverted, by the culture at large. It's not clear whether the Mesopotamian-Levantine cultures were more open about it or not, mostly because there's not a whole lot of direct evidence. We know that there was prostitution, and that not all prostitutes were lower-class. We know that some temples had priestesses in many different positions, some artistic, some administrative, and some ritual. And there are hints and suggestions in the surviving artwork that some rituals required male and female nudity, or at least exposure of the penis and/or breasts. As far as hard evidence goes, that's about it.
Purity codes were a big thing in the region at the time. The Hebrew Bible is full of them, occasionally conflicting. And the Hebrew purity codes take a hard line against a large number of sexual acts, although not prostitution per se. In many cases, the justification isn't so much "the Lord thinks this is gross" as it is "this is what the other people do, and you're not them, so don't". There has been a great deal of ink spilled over the idea that this is code for "these acts are sacred to other gods, and you're not theirs, so don't". I admit, the idea is in some ways appealing - perhaps Yahveh hates Teh Buttsecks, but Ba'al, Asherah, and Astarte are very much in favor of it. Unfortunately, the documentation left by those other nations is incomplete, and does not tell us whether this is so, or whether they had their own purity codes in which they said not to do those same acts for other reasons.
On the other hand, the Greeks seemed to think that there was actual temple prostitution going on in Assyria/Babylon. At least, their travelogues state outright that there was. They don't seem to think much of it, but then, the Greeks never seemed to think much of traditions that differed from their own, and they exoticized other cultures pretty much the same way we do. So, even if they terribly misinterpreted what was going on, there seems to be some sort of officially sanctioned sex going on on temple grounds at least somewhere in the region. But once again, those who were actually participating in it, who understood the rules and the rationale, didn't leave records of their own. So we basically have two fairly prudish sets of literate people, with their own agendas against the practitioners, accusing the Levanto-Mesopotamian peoples of inappropriate religious sex.
The Ba'al saga doesn't have much to say on the matter, except for some weird tension between Ba'al and Asherah that causes problems in the translation. Asherah is mentioned holding an object - most translations say "spindle" - that Ba'al later has a very bad reaction to when it appears on his banquet table. It is unclear why, but Ba'al's reaction suggests that the object has sexual connotations of some sort. In two of her other appearances in the preserved stories, Asherah's appearance before El causes him to immediately start talking about sex, including a few dirty jokes, but then again, they're married. Still, in the sparse material we have, Asherah does seem to have an immediate association with some sort of sexuality; it isn't a stretch to suggest that there might have been at least symbolic sexual rites in her temples. The same is loosely true of Astarte, Ishtar, and Inanna in their respective stories, and perhaps Cybele and Atargatis as well.
At any rate, sacred sexuality doesn't have to be part of the exoteric rites for modern Pagans to add it to their own practices. It's more that it would be nice to know what was done before so that we can adapt it, rather than trying to come up with something from what we now have; a lot of what we've got borrows heavily from Hindu and Taoist practices, and if one is going to go around appropriating peoples' culture, better it be ones your own culture didn't oppress (by virtue of their having been long gone).
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Wheres and Whats
One of the big motives for the contemporary NeoPagan movement as a whole, especially in the US and Britain, is reunion with Nature. Over and over, I hear words of reverence and love for the natural world, its plants and animals, the earth and the sea and the sky, the weather and the stars above them. This makes sense, of course - ecological consciousness is one of the major threads of NeoPaganism.
It also makes me think the vast majority of my fellow-travellers are city slickers, though. Pure, unspoiled Nature is a thing of beauty, to be sure, and should be protected - but we can't live there anymore. We're not wild humans, and most of us haven't been for 11,000 years. Less, in the case of the Native Americans and a few other groups like the San, but even they had agriculture and carefully groomed herds of buffalo, or tamed cattle and regular grazing routes. Even the Native Australians weren't truly wild humans, although perhaps they came the closest to preserving that strain. No, we're domesticated, just as surely as our dogs and our cattle and our wheat are, and we can't live in the wild.
Which is, I think, one of the reasons there aren't many gods that represent truly wild Nature, and the ones that do tend to be rather dangerous ones from the perspective of the culture that honored them. Seth comes to mind, and he wasn't so much Nature as the desert and its nomads - not wild people, either, but perhaps less thoroughly domesticated as Egypt was. Pan was marginal, quite literally - he wandered not the truly wild areas but the liminal spaces where the edges of civilization met the edges of the wilderness. Oceanic gods and goddesses tended to be portrayed as not the closest friends of humanity, and often in momentary or periodic conflict with those that were - think of Poseidon versus Athena, or Yamm versus Ba'al.
The earliest gods are often the ones most clearly concerned with urban humanity, such as it was at the time. Inanna in particular is all about civilization, bringing the me, the tangible and intangible things that made civilization possible, to humanity. The Great Mother goddesses of Syria and Asia Minor wear crowns that echo the tops of their city walls. The gods of the outdoors are overwhelmingly gods of agriculture and weather, not of the unspoiled wild. In fact, those places were cared for by smaller spirits - dryads, naiads, and the like. They had their devotees, even shrines, but not temples.
I'm not going to argue against the Nature-focus of my fellow Pagans; I think it's a good thing, especially the reverence for Gaia as a whole. But I think it does get in the way of building community in the larger sense, especially among polytheists (whether hard or soft). In particular, it seems to get in the way of pushes towards permanent shrines and temples; an awful lot of Pagans are quite insistent about worship properly being outdoors. Perhaps we could be looking towards Shinto for ways of reconciling Nature-reverence with more complex and permanent community praxis; it seems to work out well for them, at least at home.
It also makes me think the vast majority of my fellow-travellers are city slickers, though. Pure, unspoiled Nature is a thing of beauty, to be sure, and should be protected - but we can't live there anymore. We're not wild humans, and most of us haven't been for 11,000 years. Less, in the case of the Native Americans and a few other groups like the San, but even they had agriculture and carefully groomed herds of buffalo, or tamed cattle and regular grazing routes. Even the Native Australians weren't truly wild humans, although perhaps they came the closest to preserving that strain. No, we're domesticated, just as surely as our dogs and our cattle and our wheat are, and we can't live in the wild.
Which is, I think, one of the reasons there aren't many gods that represent truly wild Nature, and the ones that do tend to be rather dangerous ones from the perspective of the culture that honored them. Seth comes to mind, and he wasn't so much Nature as the desert and its nomads - not wild people, either, but perhaps less thoroughly domesticated as Egypt was. Pan was marginal, quite literally - he wandered not the truly wild areas but the liminal spaces where the edges of civilization met the edges of the wilderness. Oceanic gods and goddesses tended to be portrayed as not the closest friends of humanity, and often in momentary or periodic conflict with those that were - think of Poseidon versus Athena, or Yamm versus Ba'al.
The earliest gods are often the ones most clearly concerned with urban humanity, such as it was at the time. Inanna in particular is all about civilization, bringing the me, the tangible and intangible things that made civilization possible, to humanity. The Great Mother goddesses of Syria and Asia Minor wear crowns that echo the tops of their city walls. The gods of the outdoors are overwhelmingly gods of agriculture and weather, not of the unspoiled wild. In fact, those places were cared for by smaller spirits - dryads, naiads, and the like. They had their devotees, even shrines, but not temples.
I'm not going to argue against the Nature-focus of my fellow Pagans; I think it's a good thing, especially the reverence for Gaia as a whole. But I think it does get in the way of building community in the larger sense, especially among polytheists (whether hard or soft). In particular, it seems to get in the way of pushes towards permanent shrines and temples; an awful lot of Pagans are quite insistent about worship properly being outdoors. Perhaps we could be looking towards Shinto for ways of reconciling Nature-reverence with more complex and permanent community praxis; it seems to work out well for them, at least at home.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Dice and Ancient Days in the New Year
In another context altogether, I mentioned that I played role-playing games as a teen, and I did become Pagan in college, and indeed I was introduced to Paganism (specifically an idiosyncratic form of NeoDruidry and Eclectic Wicca) by two friends in my college gaming group. While I would argue with anyone from the anti-gamer end of Christian fundamentalism that there was no cause-and-effect relationship between my being a gamer and my leaving Christianity, I am compelled to consider, given the appearance of a correlation, whether there might have been a common cause. Certainly they were both part of throwing off the "good girl" identity given me by my parents, but I doubt simple rebellion would have lasted this long, and not only am I still quite Pagan, but I'm also still a gamer, although not as frequently as I might like. A skeptic might suggest that both require a vivid imagination, and to some extent that's probably true. There is a certain amount of role-playing, in the theatrical/LARP sense at least, to doing good ritual. In my case, I think there's an inherent love of symbolism going on in both cases - in gaming, representing a complete character in a collection of numbers and descriptors; in ritual, representing meaning in forms both improvised and archaic.
Elsewhere in that conversation, I pointed out that some young men of my acquaintance in high school were permitted by their parents to play the Marvel Super Heroes FASERIP system, but not AD&D, because of the "Satanic" stigma attached to AD&D in those days of the Satanic Panic and in our notch of the Bible Belt. Another interlocutor mentioned something similar regarding his gaming group and other non-D&D-based RPGs; both the Call of Cthulhu games and the various White Wolf World of Darkness games were mentioned. While it could be argued that, in those days when Watchmen was still new, that the Marvel RPG really was somehow more innocent than AD&D, the same was certainly not true for the others. I suspect that if the particular wingnut fundies who has their knickers in a twist over AD&D had read either the CoC rulebook or the Vampire: the Masquerade basic sourcebook, they'd have burst a blood vessel.
Speaking of the World of Darkness, I realized quite recently that my current pan-Near-Eastern trio of matron goddesses make a fairly good Weaver-Wyld-Wyrm set. Of course, I don't have the same negative associations that the WoD lycanthropes do with those archetypes. And my oldest matron, the one I knew was at the core of my deepest self well before I steeled myself to walk away from the church, I recognized first in the Monster Manual, twisted and oversimplified as the depiction of Her mythology was. So perhaps the gamer connection goes deeper than I'd like to admit.
Of course, I don't play AD&D anymore, and haven't since 2nd edition. My system of choice has been GURPS for a long time, and when I GM (which is most of the time), I usually prefer modern or futuristic settings to pseudo-medieval or Tolkienesque ones. Two of my Yule gifts this year were a set of electronic six-sided dice and a set of wooden ones. The first are a bit silly, but they were from the Spouse - part of his recent soldering kick - so I appreciate the thought and the effort that went into them. The wooden ones, though - I've toyed with the idea of creating a divination method using dice for quite a while. The ancient Near Eastern cultures cast lots to determine the divine will; d6 should do just fine.
Elsewhere in that conversation, I pointed out that some young men of my acquaintance in high school were permitted by their parents to play the Marvel Super Heroes FASERIP system, but not AD&D, because of the "Satanic" stigma attached to AD&D in those days of the Satanic Panic and in our notch of the Bible Belt. Another interlocutor mentioned something similar regarding his gaming group and other non-D&D-based RPGs; both the Call of Cthulhu games and the various White Wolf World of Darkness games were mentioned. While it could be argued that, in those days when Watchmen was still new, that the Marvel RPG really was somehow more innocent than AD&D, the same was certainly not true for the others. I suspect that if the particular wingnut fundies who has their knickers in a twist over AD&D had read either the CoC rulebook or the Vampire: the Masquerade basic sourcebook, they'd have burst a blood vessel.
Speaking of the World of Darkness, I realized quite recently that my current pan-Near-Eastern trio of matron goddesses make a fairly good Weaver-Wyld-Wyrm set. Of course, I don't have the same negative associations that the WoD lycanthropes do with those archetypes. And my oldest matron, the one I knew was at the core of my deepest self well before I steeled myself to walk away from the church, I recognized first in the Monster Manual, twisted and oversimplified as the depiction of Her mythology was. So perhaps the gamer connection goes deeper than I'd like to admit.
Of course, I don't play AD&D anymore, and haven't since 2nd edition. My system of choice has been GURPS for a long time, and when I GM (which is most of the time), I usually prefer modern or futuristic settings to pseudo-medieval or Tolkienesque ones. Two of my Yule gifts this year were a set of electronic six-sided dice and a set of wooden ones. The first are a bit silly, but they were from the Spouse - part of his recent soldering kick - so I appreciate the thought and the effort that went into them. The wooden ones, though - I've toyed with the idea of creating a divination method using dice for quite a while. The ancient Near Eastern cultures cast lots to determine the divine will; d6 should do just fine.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Beloved (if still less than grateful) Dead
So I was supposed to run a Samhain ritual for our sabbat group (it's not really a circle, much less a coven, but since we're not really associated with a specific UU church anymore it feels weird to call us a CUUPs circle, even if we are still loosely affiliated with the national group) on Monday. Since that was the full moon, I cancelled my moon circle for this month. I didn't spend as much time and energy writing the ritual as I'd originally intended, but it was a substantial amount - and then no one showed up but me and the hosts. Three's not really enough for bells, whistles, and candles (or is that book, bell, and whistle?), so we decided to just do a basic dumb supper instead. It was nice, but not very ritual-y.
I then debated trying to run the ritual tonight instead, but it seemed unlikely that I could get enough people together on such short notice. So instead, I have candles and incense burning at my tiny ancestor stele. Tomorrow, I'll put out fresh candles and incense, and the bourbon they asked for. (I still don't have any tobacco - I think I'll have to find a pipe store, or maybe a botanica.)
One of the people who missed the Monday ritual is attending on a very elderly relative in the hospital. One of the people who did make it recently lost a sister to the Great Below. A friend of a friend has had a stroke and can't communicate to her caretakers to get her priestess for what might be her last rites. My own grandmother died a few days after a Samhain. And, of course, the latest incarnation of Huracan is making a deadly pass across the eastern seaboard. It is definitely the dark half of the year.
Blessed Samhain, Winterfinding, and/or Dia de los Muertos to all of you.
I then debated trying to run the ritual tonight instead, but it seemed unlikely that I could get enough people together on such short notice. So instead, I have candles and incense burning at my tiny ancestor stele. Tomorrow, I'll put out fresh candles and incense, and the bourbon they asked for. (I still don't have any tobacco - I think I'll have to find a pipe store, or maybe a botanica.)
One of the people who missed the Monday ritual is attending on a very elderly relative in the hospital. One of the people who did make it recently lost a sister to the Great Below. A friend of a friend has had a stroke and can't communicate to her caretakers to get her priestess for what might be her last rites. My own grandmother died a few days after a Samhain. And, of course, the latest incarnation of Huracan is making a deadly pass across the eastern seaboard. It is definitely the dark half of the year.
Blessed Samhain, Winterfinding, and/or Dia de los Muertos to all of you.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Ripples
Amazon had a sale on Grateful Dead MP3s recently, so I picked up a best-of. I'm not a huge fan, and never have been, but I like them well enough, and - more to the point - I hang out with enough musicians that eventually, someone is going to ask me to sing "Uncle John's Band" while they jam out. It's kind of like "Hey Jude" that way - everyone knows it, no matter what their normal musical style is.
On a parallel track, I also recently, as a fumbling way of completing an assignment I was given, ended up constructing a small ancestral shrine. (I also dropped a cinder of burning frankincense, and melted a hole in a plastic pot before I noticed. Fortunately, it was on concrete and I had a watering can at hand, so no harm done except to the pot.) It's a eclectic, or possibly syncretic, hodgepodge of elements. The central piece is a small cedar stela, marked with a solar winged disc (a symbol for Shapshu of the Corpses, one of the Ugaritic protectors of the dead), an eight-pointed star (specifically Astarte's symbol, but it shows up a lot in Levantine and Mesopotamian religious art in the context of various heavenly deities, not just Astarte/Ishtar), and the names of both of my paternal grandparents. It's currently flanked by two jar candles (the sort you see in the Hispanic foods section of the grocery store, with various saints on them), and has a spot for incense in front of the stela (stick incense, now, after the goof with the resin incense). I need to see if I have any photos I can scan and print to add, at least temporarily.
I don't normally do a lot of regular ancestor veneration; I've historically avoided it on the grounds that it would be disrespectful to my ancestors' beliefs. This is particularly true on my distaff side, unfortunately; every ancestor for whom I know more than a name was a rock-ribbed devout Lutheran, and the same will be true of my mother when she joins them. I am fairly sure that, even if they have found out by now that there is more than they imagined, they would still be grossly offended by being offered veneration due (in their minds) only to their god. And my father's father's line runs to standard Southern Protestantism, although they seem to have been generally less devout than my maternal side.
But my father's mother's side is Catholic, and Louisiana Catholics at that. My paternal grandmother was a fairly devout Marian; I trace some of my initial respect for the female Divine to her reverence for the Mother of God. She was also a bit of a drama queen and attention-seeking scene-stealer. At some point in my contemplation of the assignment, I realized that, orthodoxy or not, anything that involved someone making a big fuss about her, in Mary's name, would probably not displease her. And her husband lost whatever vestiges of his childhood Presbyterian faith he still had on the battlefield in WWII; he might dismiss the whole project as foolishness and nonsense, but he wouldn't find it offensive in the same way that my two-church-founding, organ-playing, Bible-loving maternal grandfather would. So - fair enough. There's a Virgin of Guadalupe candle for her, and a plain red candle for him.
So what happens? They complain that I didn't get them tobacco and bourbon instead of incense.
*facepalm* Talk about your ungrateful dead!
But then, why should they be any different in death than in life? And, at least they turned up. And - well, they're right; they were both smokers and social drinkers all their lives, and part of ancestor reverence is to get them what they want(ed). And I can get them tobacco and bourbon, even if I don't remember their brand (and they get pipe tobacco; I am not buying them cigarettes).
On a parallel track, I also recently, as a fumbling way of completing an assignment I was given, ended up constructing a small ancestral shrine. (I also dropped a cinder of burning frankincense, and melted a hole in a plastic pot before I noticed. Fortunately, it was on concrete and I had a watering can at hand, so no harm done except to the pot.) It's a eclectic, or possibly syncretic, hodgepodge of elements. The central piece is a small cedar stela, marked with a solar winged disc (a symbol for Shapshu of the Corpses, one of the Ugaritic protectors of the dead), an eight-pointed star (specifically Astarte's symbol, but it shows up a lot in Levantine and Mesopotamian religious art in the context of various heavenly deities, not just Astarte/Ishtar), and the names of both of my paternal grandparents. It's currently flanked by two jar candles (the sort you see in the Hispanic foods section of the grocery store, with various saints on them), and has a spot for incense in front of the stela (stick incense, now, after the goof with the resin incense). I need to see if I have any photos I can scan and print to add, at least temporarily.
I don't normally do a lot of regular ancestor veneration; I've historically avoided it on the grounds that it would be disrespectful to my ancestors' beliefs. This is particularly true on my distaff side, unfortunately; every ancestor for whom I know more than a name was a rock-ribbed devout Lutheran, and the same will be true of my mother when she joins them. I am fairly sure that, even if they have found out by now that there is more than they imagined, they would still be grossly offended by being offered veneration due (in their minds) only to their god. And my father's father's line runs to standard Southern Protestantism, although they seem to have been generally less devout than my maternal side.
But my father's mother's side is Catholic, and Louisiana Catholics at that. My paternal grandmother was a fairly devout Marian; I trace some of my initial respect for the female Divine to her reverence for the Mother of God. She was also a bit of a drama queen and attention-seeking scene-stealer. At some point in my contemplation of the assignment, I realized that, orthodoxy or not, anything that involved someone making a big fuss about her, in Mary's name, would probably not displease her. And her husband lost whatever vestiges of his childhood Presbyterian faith he still had on the battlefield in WWII; he might dismiss the whole project as foolishness and nonsense, but he wouldn't find it offensive in the same way that my two-church-founding, organ-playing, Bible-loving maternal grandfather would. So - fair enough. There's a Virgin of Guadalupe candle for her, and a plain red candle for him.
So what happens? They complain that I didn't get them tobacco and bourbon instead of incense.
*facepalm* Talk about your ungrateful dead!
But then, why should they be any different in death than in life? And, at least they turned up. And - well, they're right; they were both smokers and social drinkers all their lives, and part of ancestor reverence is to get them what they want(ed). And I can get them tobacco and bourbon, even if I don't remember their brand (and they get pipe tobacco; I am not buying them cigarettes).
Friday, August 3, 2012
Taking Our Chances
Pretty much everyone who's had much exposure to Christianity has probably heard of Pascal's Wager. You may not know what he knew a thing or two about wagering; he's not the father of mathematical probability - that distinction goes to Fermat - but he was instrumental in developing it beyond its initial foundations.
In case you don't know Pascal's Wager, it goes something like this: Either God exists, or he does not. Either you believe, or you do not. If God does not exist and you do not believe, nothing happens. If God does not exist and you do believe, you miss out on some of the joys and pleasures of this world. If God exists and you do not believe, you will be tortured for all eternity. If God exists and you do believe, you will exist in eternal bliss. Since the reward for believing if God exists is essentially positive-infinity, and the reward for not believing if God exists is negative infinity, it doesn't matter what the payoffs are if God does not exist; as long as the probability that God exists is not zero, the rational thing is to choose to believe.
Now, there are a lot of problems with that, starting with the question of whether one can, in fact, choose to believe (Calvin had some opinions on that subject). The biggest objection brought by most mathematicians is that Christianity and atheism are not the only two options - Islam is usually brought up, and sometimes Hinduism and Buddhism as well.
It turns out that there's a Pagan version of the wager, which in at least some form predates Pascal by quite a bit; it's sometimes known as the skeptic's wager, but it stems at least in part from the Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius (thanks to Libby Anne for this particular formulation), so I'm going to call it Aurelius's wager.
And Aurelius's Wager goes something like this: Either the gods exist, or they don't. Either the gods are just, or they are unjust. We may act with justice, or with injustice. If the gods exist and are just, then we will be judged according to whether we have been just or unjust. If the gods exist and are unjust, then we should not care what they think. If the gods do not exist, and we act unjustly, then we will be remembered with infamy. If the gods do not exist and we act justly, then we will at least be remembered well.
Note that Pascal's wager is actually covered in Aurelius's. A god who is capable of inflicting a non-finite punishment on a finite being, and does so, is clearly not a just god. Indeed, if a god did so, the just thing to do would be to either struggle against it, not to serve it. As Huck Finn said, "All right, then I'll go to Hell."
Star Foster wrote yesterday about rejecting Jesus Christ. I actually have a bit of a soft spot for the rabbi Yeheshua ben Miriam; for a man of his time, he was remarkably progressive. I think his followers were far more mired in conventional thinking, and the religion they founded got co-opted by the Empire a couple of centuries after Aurelius. But I have no love whatsoever for Yahveh, and the above is part of it. I have absolutely no way to square Yahveh's behavior with a just god, no matter how his prophets attempted to spin him later. So - I will not worship him, in any form. If you go back far enough, to before Yahveh and El were syncretized, I will happily worship the physical, fallible El who loves humans and is concerned with (although not perfect about) justice. I have no problem with Mary Theotokos, and the deified version of her kid I can take or leave, depending on the context. But Yahveh the Lonely, the Angry? The sky-father who divorced Asherah and disowned Baal? No, not him.
I've actually had this argument with a couple of atheists. They wanted to know what would happen if, as Yahveh did to Abraham, one of my gods told me to sacrifice someone. They seemed to be startled when I told them "I'd say no," as if accepting a god's existence meant always obeying it. But I agree with Aurelius - an unjust god is not worth obeying. (I'll admit, the fact that I think the gods have a fairly limited influence on one's afterlife also helps.)
In case you don't know Pascal's Wager, it goes something like this: Either God exists, or he does not. Either you believe, or you do not. If God does not exist and you do not believe, nothing happens. If God does not exist and you do believe, you miss out on some of the joys and pleasures of this world. If God exists and you do not believe, you will be tortured for all eternity. If God exists and you do believe, you will exist in eternal bliss. Since the reward for believing if God exists is essentially positive-infinity, and the reward for not believing if God exists is negative infinity, it doesn't matter what the payoffs are if God does not exist; as long as the probability that God exists is not zero, the rational thing is to choose to believe.
Now, there are a lot of problems with that, starting with the question of whether one can, in fact, choose to believe (Calvin had some opinions on that subject). The biggest objection brought by most mathematicians is that Christianity and atheism are not the only two options - Islam is usually brought up, and sometimes Hinduism and Buddhism as well.
It turns out that there's a Pagan version of the wager, which in at least some form predates Pascal by quite a bit; it's sometimes known as the skeptic's wager, but it stems at least in part from the Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius (thanks to Libby Anne for this particular formulation), so I'm going to call it Aurelius's wager.
And Aurelius's Wager goes something like this: Either the gods exist, or they don't. Either the gods are just, or they are unjust. We may act with justice, or with injustice. If the gods exist and are just, then we will be judged according to whether we have been just or unjust. If the gods exist and are unjust, then we should not care what they think. If the gods do not exist, and we act unjustly, then we will be remembered with infamy. If the gods do not exist and we act justly, then we will at least be remembered well.
Note that Pascal's wager is actually covered in Aurelius's. A god who is capable of inflicting a non-finite punishment on a finite being, and does so, is clearly not a just god. Indeed, if a god did so, the just thing to do would be to either struggle against it, not to serve it. As Huck Finn said, "All right, then I'll go to Hell."
Star Foster wrote yesterday about rejecting Jesus Christ. I actually have a bit of a soft spot for the rabbi Yeheshua ben Miriam; for a man of his time, he was remarkably progressive. I think his followers were far more mired in conventional thinking, and the religion they founded got co-opted by the Empire a couple of centuries after Aurelius. But I have no love whatsoever for Yahveh, and the above is part of it. I have absolutely no way to square Yahveh's behavior with a just god, no matter how his prophets attempted to spin him later. So - I will not worship him, in any form. If you go back far enough, to before Yahveh and El were syncretized, I will happily worship the physical, fallible El who loves humans and is concerned with (although not perfect about) justice. I have no problem with Mary Theotokos, and the deified version of her kid I can take or leave, depending on the context. But Yahveh the Lonely, the Angry? The sky-father who divorced Asherah and disowned Baal? No, not him.
I've actually had this argument with a couple of atheists. They wanted to know what would happen if, as Yahveh did to Abraham, one of my gods told me to sacrifice someone. They seemed to be startled when I told them "I'd say no," as if accepting a god's existence meant always obeying it. But I agree with Aurelius - an unjust god is not worth obeying. (I'll admit, the fact that I think the gods have a fairly limited influence on one's afterlife also helps.)
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