Persecution Mentality: Seek and Ye Shall Find

(By Michael)

Several months ago, Kele and I went out to dinner at a local restaurant. It's one of those places that has changed hands a couple of times, and we wanted to see what the new owners had done with the place. The décor was the same, the menu had changed, and the staff was different, though since we hadn't been there in a while, maybe it wasn't.

Our waiter was a nice young man in his twenties, thin with dark hair and a beard. When he brought our wine, he made a point of noticing Kele's pentacle. “I like your jewelry,” he said with a significant smile. Once he was away, I laughed. It had been a while since I had witnessed or been a part of that kind of interaction, and it struck me as funny and a bit, oh I don't know, cliché, even juvenile.

If you have never experienced this particular interaction, it's code for, “I see you're a pagan/witch. I'm pretty witchy myself.” One could almost imagine the wink and nod that would go along with it if the scene were part of a sit-com. The common thinking in the “pagan community” (yes, that was intended to be in quotes, and may be a topic for another blog from Kele or me) is that since we are practicing a religion that is not mainstream and has a reputation for being persecuted, we should use subtle ways of communicating that we recognize one another and signal solidarity. It's also a way of issuing an invitation for contact and association. It's not cool to drag someone out of the broom closet or leap out one's self by saying, “Yo, witch! 'Sup? I'm down with that goddess swag! Let's go cast some spells an' shit!” No. Better to use some subtle indicator of recognition and support than risk becoming the target of oppression and intolerance from the bigoted and uninformed population of monotheists, who see neo-Paganism in any form as the work of the Evil One, or others who perceive your spirituality as a “phase” or attempt at being “special” or just plain weird. Because, you know, witches were and are persecuted.

Except that this hasn't been my experience. No one has ever persecuted me for my beliefs, regardless of what they have been. In fact, my beliefs are a distinct non-issue unless I am purposefully engaged in some belief-related conversation.

“But you don't live where I live, look like I look, wear what I wear, etc.”

Yes. That's true. I cannot claim to have experienced the same things as every person who has been persecuted for one belief or another. So, let's look at who I am.

I am a white male of a lower middle class family. I am large of stature and have a fairly muscular frame. These things usually put me into the category of “normal,” even “imposing,” hence less likely to be casually targeted for much of anything. I also have long hair and a beard. At one time that alone marked me as a deviant. Still, that's not quite enough these days to merit sanction. I am a construction worker turned English teacher (accounting for no rise in economic status), fairly respectable occupations. I am personable and charismatic with the ability to converse freely with most people. All of this makes me unlikely to be the focus of persecution.

I am also intelligent, educated, and liberal. My wife and I live in a small rural town known for ranching, farming and coal mining, that once held the Guinness World Record for the most churches per capita. Even though there is a strong progressive movement here, we are surrounded with staunchly conservative Republicans and many who view people with liberal leanings as a scourge upon the earth. I am an avid reader – a distinct aberration in this area – and an artistic dilettante. I was raised as a Fundamentalist Christian, holy roller, speaking in tongues and all. I am now a Pagan and make no apologies for that. I use my closet to hang my clothes in and stash “stuff,” not hiding my beliefs.

I recognize that I have several advantages that make me a less desirable target than some, but I'm hard to miss and even harder to ignore when I have something to say. And that is the major difference between myself and those who encounter persecution as they perceive it: What is said.

Allow me to explain. Everything about a person says something. From the choices we make about hair and clothes to the path we take to the store, each action can communicate to the rest of the world a little notion of who we are and what we want.

When I was in my late teens I began to let my hair grow. I grew a beard because I could and because I didn't like shaving. I found an old army coat that my uncle had given to my dad. He used to use it to work on our continually broken down cars. I thought it was really cool, so I asked if I could have it. Truth to tell, I liked it because I thought it was bad-ass. I put it on and felt a little bad-ass. About this time I developed a fondness for taking late night walks. It gave me a chance to work out some of the tumult in my mind and heart. I didn't really feel in any danger since we lived in a relatively low crime area, and hey, I looked like a bad-ass. I found out that looking like a bad-ass late at night in a suburban area was a cop magnet. About once a week, I would be stopped by patrolmen and asked what I was doing. The officer would ask for my I.D., ask where I lived (usually less than a mile away), ask what I was doing (again), etc. It got to the point where, if I saw a cop, I would just stop and wait for him.

I began to feel a little persecuted. I started to think about claiming my implied constitutional right to anonymity, claiming harassment, claiming that the cops had it in for young people, blah, blah, blah, but the truth is, I had adopted a persona of trouble, and I found it. I was behaving in a way, innocent intent or not, that told law enforcement, “Shady guy here! Investigate!”

I am NOT suggesting that anyone that feels persecuted should just change the way they dress. That is the same mentality that blames women for sexual harassment because of the clothes they wear. That is unfair, unreasonable, and actually is persecution and harassment. What I'm suggesting is that my behavior, attitude and energy was conveying a desire for a certain kind of contact, which worked.

Now, let's look at a different scenario. Remember that I mentioned that I was raised as a Fundamentalist Christian. In the churches I attended, there was deeply seated fear of persecution. This was during the height of the Cold War. Stories were rampant of the way the Communists treated religion and religious practitioners. There were tales of murder, torture, daring escapes from the godless Ruskies and Chinese devils. We lived under the fear of not only nuclear warfare, but the notion that we should prepare for the same kind of persecution that the Jews experienced during WWII. Not only that, but we were sure that even our neighbors harbored hatred for us because we carried the Light of Christ. We were indoctrinated into the idea that to even say that we read the Bible was to open ourselves up to attack. We knew that “the world” hated us because it was under the control of Satan, and that we should be on our guard. And we found evidence to support this. Why, just look at the state of things. Morality was going to pot, the kids were doing drugs and burning flags, atheists were infiltrating the government, rock and roll music was polluting the minds of the youth, blah, blah, blah.

We were charged to go forth into “the world” to preach the gospel to the sinners (that would be everyone but us). One youth leader instructed us “to compel” our friends and others toward God, using forceful and relentless persuasion. Many who took this to heart would dress in their best starched clothes and go out to “win souls to God.” They were occasionally rebuffed and told to mind their own business. The most holy among us were sometimes threatened with violence. What further proof did we need that we had cause to fear persecution? All we were doing was sharing the Truth.

The perspective of years has shown me that what we were doing was getting up in people's faces, telling them they were going to hell, that they were essentially flawed, and then asserting that we, the very presumptuous, self-righteous invaders of privacy, had the cure. People react strongly to that kind of thing. The actions, words and dress of these “Christian Soldiers” were making severe judgments about others, and when people reacted negatively to these actions and words, it was interpreted as persecution. We were sure we would find persecution, and, as a community of believers, we found it.

More than two decades ago, I became a neo-Pagan. Like so many others, I recognized that what I was internally had a name. I talked to people, read books, burned candles, talked to trees, saw magic in the world, practiced divination, and did ritual with some new friends. I found a set of beliefs that resonated in my spirit.

I also found a tradition of persecution. The Burning Times was a common topic of conversation for us. We feared the judgment of the mainstream religions. We were sure that it would be assumed that we “greased ourselves with the fat of Christian babies and flew out through the keyhole to have sex with the devil.” All blame for deviant behavior would be laid at our feet. We heard of people who were denied time off of work to celebrate the Sabbats. We heard stories of sisters and brothers in the craft being blamed for all manner of wickedness that was in direct opposition to our beliefs, killing pets, abusing children, and cursing neighbors. We knew someone who told us of a sister that was thrown out of her house when her parents found her tarot cards. We talked of ways to protect ourselves and hide our tools from roommates and family. We knew that we would be denied employment, services, health care, lodgings, and justice should it become known that we were witches.

We held rituals in public parks, wore our pentacles and faux-renaissance clothing and talked about how we wanted to share our connection of the immanent divine and Earth consciousness with the misguided monotheists and environmental abusers. We went to talks and explained how misunderstood and judged we were. We talked about how the “old ways” and “old gods,” and by extension we, were vilified and demonized by Christianity. Many walked around scared and angry at how our traditional ancestors had been treated.

When the holiday season rolled around, we complained loudly that it was our holiday originally that had been stolen from us by the power-hungry, misogynistic, monotheistic patriarchy. We pointed out to anyone that they were repressed and deadened to the world around them by taking the words of an old book and the misguided words of repressive church leaders as the ultimate truth. Every affront committed against one of our number was taken as evidence of our persecution. We were sure there was persecution, and we found it.

We found it. In each of the above cases, we, I found it. Except, I didn't. Not really. I never actually experienced persecution in any meaningful form. I heard stories. I heard Christians, Pagans, vagrants, young people, long haired men and short haired women, and others interpret events as persecution, but I never once experienced it for myself. No one ever gave me shit for carrying a Bible or wearing a pentacle. Not once.

Why? Why haven't I ever had anyone treat me as less than human and even suspect it had anything to do with my religion? Simply stated, it's because I don't expect to be persecuted. I don't expect that I will be persecuted for something as abstract, as wibbly-wobbly, feely-weely as my religion. I don't look for reasons beyond what I say and do as cause for people to react one way or another. Have I been a jerk? Have I been disrespectful? Insulting? Demeaning? Have I failed to keep my word? Have I acted in a way that seems dangerous or criminal? Have I forced another to listen to me rant? I ask these questions first. Usually, any unpleasant situation can be handily explained in the first two. Only once have I wondered if a situation had to do with me being a Pagan. It didn't. At all.

“But all the stories! All the history!”

We can look at various accounts and find as many that are fictitious as factual, as many that are blatant misinterpretations of the facts, and others that have more to do with politics or the demented notion of “purity” than they do with religion. In fact, the worst religious persecution was usually practiced against practitioners of the same religion. I want to be very clear that I am addressing the idea of persecution in the current, Western world. I clearly understand that horrific events like the Holocaust and the practice of several militant groups in other parts of the world bent on killing one another are different situations altogether and should not be trivialized.

Personally, I have seen people claim persecution because someone reacted to them for nothing more than being an asshole. I have seen bumper stickers on cars belonging to both Christians and Pagans that insult or trivialize other beliefs, and then the owners of these cars claim persecution when they get flipped off. I have seen people make poor business decisions that result in catastrophe, and then profess that it was because “we're Christian,” Pagan, Atheist, whatever. I have come to the conclusion that, with the exception of a few well documented cases, the myth of persecution in the modern, particularly American world, is a product of individual or group paranoia, or an excuse for the reaction to intolerable behavior. Because, you see, if you can pretend that it's your beliefs someone is reacting to, then you don't have to consider the possibility that you are a moron or just being a dick.

Allow me to pose some questions about current, personal situations. What group or individual have you encountered that claimed persecution? What was the topic or basis of the persecution? What person or group is persecuting what other person or group? How much substantive validity is there in the claim?

In my own experience, I can only point to a handful of instances in current Western culture that I thought actually qualified as persecution, nearly all of them having to do with homosexuality or women's rights. These are both issues with deep roots in tradition, culture and religiously dictated morality. These are concrete realities with well documented instances of organized, often violent attacks based on challenges to norms and traditions. Is this persecution? You bet it is! These issues are seeing both progress (greater acceptance of same sex marriage) and setbacks (attacks on women's reproductive rights), and as a culture, we have a long way to go.

But what of the claims of religious persecution? Who is claiming it, and who is being accused of doing it? It seems to me that the groups who claim the greatest persecution are the very groups that are accused of doing the persecuting, or are at least being the most, shall I say, aggressively defensive of their own beliefs. I can't remember hearing a mainstream (non-evangelical) Christian or a practicing Buddhist complaining of being attacked for their religion. On the other hand, I can think of numerous instances of religious zealots of various stripes getting into conflicts, usually with one another. It would seem then that those who insist on being inflexibly “right” or are attached to a history of suffering (real or imagined) are prone to seeing themselves as persecuted. It isn't the religion that is being attacked; it is the behavior of individuals and groups acting in aggressive and belligerent ways.

I said earlier that my religion is a distinct non-issue. That's because I don't see my own spirituality as anyone's business but my own. I don't feel the need to share what I have found with anyone who hasn't directly asked. Nor is the relationship that anyone else has with the divine any business of mine. I don't feel the need to point out flaws in another's religion. It doesn't really matter to me as long as it doesn't infringe on basic respect or safety. And in those very rare instances in which someone is behaving disrespectfully, I simply recognize a moron talking out of his insecurities and prejudice, and disengage. I'm happy to leave an asshole to wallow in his own stink, but I'm under no obligation to be a target for his shit.

Remember the “Threefold Law?” What you send out will return to you multiplied by three. There is another simple principle: If you look for something, you will usually find it. We need to take these two together and ask ourselves: Do we want respect and tolerance? Do we want to find kindness and acceptance? Then we need to give respect and tolerance. We need to look for kindness and acceptance.

Finally, keep this in mind. People who are hassling you would probably use any excuse to do so. That's what bullies do. That's what restraining orders are for. Or maybe, just maybe, you had it coming for being a shit.

Whither Intellectual Rigor?

Serving Suggestion: Try this post with a double-tall latte and a chocolate croissant!

(by Kele)

Michael and I don’t buy Pagan non-fiction as a rule. I think the last time was fifteen years ago, when we ran across a couple titles on “Faery Wicca” in a little metaphysical shop in Michigan. The books looked to have possibilities, so we got them. They turned out to be pretty bad: the same old stuff with a varnish of Fairy Lore and a truly insulting attitude of “This is the one true path handed down by the Little People.”

We keep looking and hoping. We keep wanting that really deep exploration of the path to which we’ve dedicated ourselves. But we never find it.

Recently I was selected to review books for a major Pagan publication. I applied because I felt I needed an outlet for my opinions and I felt they have value—in fact, they might be very appealing to some people. I mean, I can’t be the only opinionated Pagan bitch out there. Also, I thought it might be a good opportunity to see what’s out there in the Pagan non-fiction front, maybe discover some of the kind of book Michael and I are constantly looking for.

The first book I received was an exploration of Welsh myth, and I was really excited about reading it. I’ve always loved the mythology of the British Isles, and I got my first copy of The Mabinogion in eighth grade. The author’s bio said he was a Druid, Bard, and Scholar. I thought, “Maybe this guy will have something new to say.”

Well, he did and he didn’t. See, he hadn’t chosen his audience. He had no idea whether he was talking to someone just starting out on a Pagan path or someone more experienced. So the book wandered between really great scholarship and exercises that, while well-constructed, seemed boring and basic to a person who’s been practicing the Craft for well over twenty years. The exercises included a lot of hand-holding, and pep talks about how it’s okay to have an experience, and condescending cautions about stuff that an experienced practitioner shouldn’t even have to think about. It made me want to throw the book against a wall, which was a shame because some of the scholarship really was excellent. And I got the impression that the scholarship was really what interested the author, but he felt he had to throw in the basics to keep the work accessible to everyone.

But the whole thing made me ask again: Where are all the books on Advanced Pagan Studies? Why do we get stuck in beginners’ mode? Why do we keep going through that same door over and over again? And why do we feel that everything has to be accessible to everyone?

A little about me: I come from a family of religious scholars. My dad was a Presbyterian Minister. His brother was a Presbyterian Minister. My grandfather and great-grandfather and great-great-grandfather back in the Old Country were all Presbyterian Ministers. So yeah, I’m not a Fam-Trad Witch. But I grew up behind the scenes of religion. I know how it works and how it doesn’t work. I know how to relate to a congregation and, above all, how to establish and maintain a deep connection with your belief system and your gods. And I’m sorry to say this, but a lot of modern Paganism really falls flat in this arena.

Let’s take a minute to look at my dad’s library. A lot of different editions of The Bible, check. You’d expect this for a Christian clergyman. What else? The history of the Christian Holy Land. Geography. Translations of sacred texts. Travel diaries from people who had been there at different times. The history of the Roman Empire. The archaeology of Ancient Egypt. Symbolic interpretations of Bible stories. Jewish scholarly works.

Do you see what I see? My dad’s library did not contain fifteen different instructional volumes on how to run a church service or how to serve communion. That is, he was past the beginners’ stuff. He learned that in seminary. He did not feel the need to go over it again and again, or to keep telling other clergy members how to do it.

This is where Pagans can learn a whole lot from Christian Scholars.

Many Pagans espouse this idea that “we’re all clergy.” It’s the great leveler, and it also causes a shitload of problems, as anyone who’s tried to run a successful ritual can tell you. Well, the issue of Pagan clergy is for another blog. But one thing I must say here is this: If you need to refer to a book to tell you what to do in a ritual, you have no business functioning as clergy. Yeah, okay: we all want to be initiated right away, and some of us self-initiate, and no one can define your relationship with the gods for you. But that doesn’t change the fact that if you are studying the “how-to,” you are a beginner at this and you cannot have the experience to minister to anyone.

But this mindset is precisely why authors of Pagan non-fiction feel, consciously or not, that they need to cater to everyone, no matter what the experience level. There’s this overriding thought-form that every discussion should be open and everyone has something meaningful to say. This may have a certain amount of truth; after all, it took a child to point out that the Emperor wasn’t wearing any clothes. However, it is also true that there are some things beginners simply will not understand, and when they try to engage it only serves to drag the discussion down to the level of the least educated.

Advanced practitioners need to be able to go deeper. We need books of myths and mythological scholarship. A lot of Pagans shudder at this kind of thing, but remember that what is written down is a starting point for your own work and your personal relationship. It might be better to get stuff through oral channels, but we live in a culture where information is written down. Don’t get stuck in Dogma-Mind—by this, I mean the tendency to disdain the written word as insignificant and impersonal—because something valuable is printed on a page.

We need to have the courage to examine the etymological, social and cultural origins of our gods, and to discuss our findings. Pagans get stuck in this mindset where they keep justifying themselves ad nauseam, saying stuff like, “No, really—our gods exist!” Well, so they do. But it becomes a case of “The lady doth protest too much” when you keep going on about it. It makes you look weak in your belief. We say that our gods live and grow and change, but we try to cast them in stone. And we refuse to examine them. How can you claim to know something if you won’t delve into it? It gives you an undifferentiated and undefined image of deity that is neither supported by myth nor susceptible to a relationship with the living gods.

Personal experience, visionary inspiration and all are great. They have a lot of value. But there is so much more you can learn from studying how others have related to the gods you choose over the centuries of the human story. Why would you not want to learn everything you can? Why cling to intellectual cowardice? World philosophies and religions have so much to offer. You don’t have to believe in them, but for gods’ sakes, you can at least study them and discuss them. And when you share your findings, that will be the kind of Advanced Pagan Work we need.

In the end, here are some tips for people wanting to write about advanced topics in Pagan Studies:

If you’re teaching someone to ground and center, you’re not writing advanced work.

If you’re explaining how to go about visualization or trance work, you are not writing advanced work.

If you’re explaining ritual structure or sacred space, you’re not writing advanced work.

If you’re constantly reassuring your reader that her personal experience has value, you are not writing advanced work.

Leave it alone. Let go. Above all, trust your reader to find what she needs in your work and go elsewhere if you do not offer what she is looking for. You do not have to be all things to all Pagans. Extend yourself and let the work carry you forward into realms that have not been explored in every  book ever written. You’ll be doing us all a service.

Welcome

So, the other day Michael and I are sitting in Back Country Coffee, having the kind of conversation you have in a coffeehouse and also lamenting that we don't spend nearly enough time in coffeehouses having this kind of conversation.

In comes this guy. You know the one I mean. He's older, maybe late fifties, but he's dressed like a skate punk: ratty jeans, wrinkled shirt, stocking cap over uncombed grey hair. Some jewelry that looks like it's meant to be significant. He's carrying a copy of Jonathan Livingston Seagull, and he immediately engages the barrista in a conversation about how meaningful and profound it is.

 I roll my eyes. This is not something I have missed during the time I have not been hanging out in coffeehouses. I say in what I hope is an undertone: "Yeah, and I read that book in seventh grade."

Michael is more generous. He says: "Give him a break. It's not bad. And it was the first of those seventies self-help enlightenment find your path books."

Someone else comes in. He greets the first guy by the name of a legendary Buddhist sage. I believe this is not the guy's birth name, but one he has chosen. I find this really ironic for a guy who is now declaiming the merits of egolessness.

Michael and I start talking about people who get really excited about things we find basic, and the way others flock to them, and how people exploring alternative spirituality get stuck in beginner's mode and never seem to be able to progress from there. We wonder if this has something to do with a social attitude, where it is assumed that everyone has to have access to everything, whether or not they're cut out for it, whether or not they're in any state of mind to understand it. Along the way, Michael starts in on his experiences as a public school teacher. He says, "Oops, I didn't mean to go there."

I say, "You can go anywhere you want. We're in a coffeehouse."

So, we got the idea for this blog. See, we spend a lot of time--not just in coffeehouses, but sitting around the house or at the dinner table--discussing Pagan* Issues that no one else seems to address. We've both been practicing Pagans/Witches/What-Have-You for more than twenty years, and frankly, the whole business kind of irritates us. We're not sweetness-and-light Pagans. We don't think everything is great and the goddess (whichever name you call her by) showers her divine blessings on us in the form of flower petals and unicorn poop. We're more the Blood-and-Bones kind of Pagan. I'm sure there are more of us out there. But we rarely seem to meet any of them.

We want to speak up about what's important to us and what troubles us. Some people may find this offensive or challenging. We don't care. You can think whatever you want to think about us and our opinions; it's your privilege.

Pour yourself a cuppa joe and pull up a chair.

*For the purposes of this blog, the word "Pagan" will be used to encompass any of the non-Western standard spiritual/religious paths based in the Spiritualist Movement of the late 19th century. At the discretion of the authors, it may also be used to describe Westerners incorporating some Eastern practices and belief systems into a path which is does not strictly adhere to any Eastern religious or philosophical practice.