So (explitive) Pious

Some recent Troll activity on my blog has got me to thinking, so thank you anonymous Troll, you've actually helped me to generate content. One term which came up, time and time again in this childish tantrum that was supposed to come off as "comments", was piousness; specifically my own. It was used in an effort to deride, and I find this rather confusing: when did piety make the transition from virtue to vice?

The context tended towards the adjective "fucking" with the coordinating conjunction "so". I believe the fault may lie with the Troll, who just tacked on pious as some abutment to the real insult, sanctimony. Generally for piety to be insulting or used to damage ones honour, it requires a proper noun to imply a more problematic state: "pious fraud" or "pious hypocrite". Both of those phrases are certainly equivalent to the state of sanctimony, so using them together is rather redundant. Certainly this followed, as the word sanctimonious did pop up in one or two of the diatribes, but again it beguiles one as to why piety would itself be considered problematic?

 

Pious (from the Latin pīus, derived from the pIE-*pey) is the quality of piety [reverence or devotion to something (generally a deity)] one has. It has been a hallmark of the character of an individual or group as it relates to being in good standing with the gods (or later God), and so has generally been an uncontested virtue, as far as virtues go. Pietas, (i.e. piety) in the Roman world was often contrasted with superstitio (the root of the English "superstition", but different in meaning) which was a slavish devotion borne out of fear of the gods anger. The former is virtuous because it encourages behaviours which foster the proper relationship one ought to have with the gods; whereas the later is a vice because while it too engenders devotion, it is a devotion rooted in a dysfunctional relationship with the gods. How then have we gotten to a point where piety is something which is in itself problematic?

 

Well, by arriving at a cultural view where everything and everyone are inherently corrupt or flawed to some degree, and so thus rendering piety as sanctimony. This is interesting, because the two terms are related, and so this is a visible descent within the context of language. There was a period when sanctimonious (from the Latin sanctimonia, holy/sacred action) was cognate with pious; at some point, however, the term became synonymous with false piety. The idea that an individual or group was putting on airs to appear pious, but that their actions were not at all reflective of such a state of being. Perhaps this new found disdain for piety itself is simply a continuation of this descent. Though, and this is where things start to branch off, piety is not the only term which (may) be one so loaded with cultural baggage that for many coming from minority theological positions, that it isn't worth "saving".

 

This touches on a much wider theological discussion (one which is to some degree or another ongoing among polytheistic and Pagan bloggers), but a conclusion which many seem to reach is this: having these discussions is, while not difficult, complicated by the predominant theological framework our language (in this case English, but it could be extended to any Western one, Gaelic [broadly] being no exception) and culture are beholden to monotheism and especially Christianity. Piety, Worship, Prayer, Theology, Holy, and so forth, are all terms that in popular parlance are loaded with preconceptions rooted in Christian tradition.

 

Herein our troubles begin, because this cultural view is pervasive and dominant, and even those smug Atheists (not all Atheists. NOT ALL ATHEISTS. Just the smug ones (like the troll I mentioned above) who find it necessary to belittle theism and theists of any and all stripes) find themselves couching terms and arguing from presuppositions. To the extent that being held to be pious from such a perspective is but a breath away from being labeled "holier-than-thou". The phrase betrays a theological (and widely cultural) perspective that makes many assumptions, and holds them to be more true than not. The expression refers to an attitude or belief (as reflected in thought and deed) that one holds oneself as being morally superior to another; this sentiment is almost always attached to feigning said morality. This sentiment has descended to a state where morality can not be measurable and so necessarily, to hold that oneself as being more moral than someone else, is being sanctimonious. Except this argument is bunk, hokum and falderal; logically there are people who are demonstrably more moral than others. This stance on behaviour and superiority/failing ties back to a much earlier post I wrote about why the faculty of judgement is good, and that such a perspective can trace its origins to Christian theology. What follows is a bit of a digression, but is nonetheless pertinent to the topic at hand, so please bear with me.

 

In the past (recently no less) I would have made an argument about Christians holding people to be worthless, because of sin, and in that state of worthlessness, all are equal and none have the right (or ability) to judge anyone else. In fact this issue sort of came to a head in a discussion I was involved in relating to the use of the term "worship" (which I will touch on below). Someone called me out on my statement (being seen as just another "attack" on Christianity). Having myself to have taken a step back, because it occurred to me during the discussion that I had grossly generalized a much more complex state of affairs. Christianity may be monolithic, but the religions(et. denominations) that make up the whole of Christendom are hardly unified. Protestantism itself seems to be as highly fractious as Paganism (and some may argue that this fractiousness among Paganism is in fact a holdover from this religious perspective, but perhaps more on this some other time). With this in mind, the understanding of concepts like "sin" and "atonement" vary wildly among Christians, and so trying to form a cohesive pronouncement on the entire group is fraught with peril. I think my perspective has been greatly coloured by my time spent on interfaith web forums, where the natural state of affairs is that Evangelicals tend to dominate the Christian communities, and given their influence (or visibility) in media, this can most definitely create theological tunnel vision, where this is Christianity. So when asked to provide an example of a religion where people were undervalued (or held to be worthless) my immediate response was 'Christianity".

This needed to be qualified, and my visceral reaction was grossly unqualified. It appears at first blush to be more accurate, a core belief even, than not so. Given the idea of human agency having little actual impact in a good number of Protestant religions (particularly those who accept "free grace" theology), when it comes to positive moral action, even to the extent of being able to accept Christianity (or specifically their salvic figure) without some divine mandate, it stands to reason that humans as fallen, generally miserable creatures, are not presented, nor held with much esteem. It is easy to then turn and say, "Well if people are held to be intrinsically terrible, it stands to reason that they haven't got much worth. This is why the idea of 'Grace' is so appealing, because even though humanity is not worthy enough to be saved, the Christian god is merciful enough to give it none the less." This was my general stance towards Christianity in general then, and to be fair I think many among us would reasonably reach this conclusion if this was the message that the Christians we knew personally, discussed religion with regularly, or were exposed to via multi media constantly were presenting to us. Then again, simply because one perspective is the most noticeable, it is by no means the largest, let alone only one available.

 

The truth of the matter is that "Free Grace" is something which is a core doctrine of only some Protestant churches, not all, and this does not then account for Catholicism nor the Orthodox church. The idea of personal atonement, penance and restitution through the actions of both the laity and the clergy, as well as the acknowledgement that humans have moral agency, stands in stark contrast with the assertion I made in the context of the conversation I mentioned above. Religions are no so simple, and theology and doctrine are complex enough to stymie easy answers and gross generalizations.

 

Having said all of that, there is no doubt in my mind that the attitudes among many folks presently with regards to attitudes like "don't judge me", "being holier-than-thou" and "so (expletive) pious" can trace their origins to some of the cultural baggage of Christian theology/doctrines like sin, guilt and religious hypocrites. The gospel authors have seen to it that the Pharisees have been one of the most maligned historic figures, well ever. The term itself is synonymous with sanctimony, but the cultural impact of the idea extended far beyond the first century CE. As my troll illustrates and as a generalized sentiment I have experienced time and time again, there is a deep mistrust of people who are seen to be "too moral", almost to the extent of it manifesting as misanthropic glee. A holdover from anti-clericalism perhaps, or a natural result stemming from a never ending cycle of clerical betrayal. In such a context, it is fairly understandable; a sacred trust which is continually betrayed is hardly any sort of trust and certainly not sacred. Reverence and deference to moral authorities have been superseded by a deep seated cynicism to the extent that for many anyone who appears to be moral for the sake of morality (or devout for the sake of the gods) is automatically red flagged. Even if that person is not in a position of authority, the general sentiment remains. It is a very regrettable state of affairs.

 

It is regrettable because the simple state of virtuous living can be looked at askance and made to seem wrong. It is my opinion that this position is based largely on an individuals insecurities being projected onto those they deem as making them feel insecure in the first place. People are also often fully justified in their cynicism, and it is remarkably easy to just abandon standards and expectations (either of oneself or others) and just "get on with it".

 

And yet ease is not necessarily the most effective measure of quality. I think that striving for a better state of affairs, again personally or collectively, is a worthy endeavour and living a virtuous life is an important part of that endeavour. Human flourishing will always be worth the effort one invests to attain it, and for me (and others like me) piety is one of the virtues which encompasses a good life. I am unabashed in my devotion to the dé ochus andé, and I would think that such a position is patently obvious to anyone who reads this blog. Having and fostering standards of ethical behaviour is not, and will never be problematic. I suppose that, given everything I've said that I am, in fact, so (expletive) pious.

Gentle, Fair-Cheeked Brigid.

Brigid the merciful; Brigid an trócaireach

Brigid of the broken heart; Brigid an croí briste

Brigid of the hearth; Brigid an tinteán

It is difficult to express in words the overwhelming outpouring of emotion and profound joy at the simple thought of Brigid. I suppose this is what Pentecostal Christians must feel like when they are "in the spirit", but I want nothing more than to sing of her praises to all who will hear, whether they listen or no.

La Fheilhe Brigid is still over a month away, yet I feel her presence so much now it is almost smothering. Every day and night, when I stand before her flame upon my hearth, I feel a deep joy kindled within my very being.

Her beauty and her wonder, the visceral reaction I would have to those who would slight her name, her grace, her compassion. A child's simple wish to protect the sanctity of their mother.

==============================================================

Her flame. golden radiant warm and kind, a fire of comfort on this frigid winters eve.

Hail our goddess of inspiration and awe, so beloved even the monks continued to sing her praises!

May we shout her name from the hill tops, and sing her praises sweetly.

We, the sons and daughters of fire!

Hail our goddess of family and friendship, around whom we gather in fellowship and love! 

May we fill our hearts with her love, and kindle a candle of kindness. 

We, the sons and daughters of fire!

Hail our goddess of grief and sorrow; mother of a broken heart which we all must some day bear!

May we bear our burden with grace and compassion, fondness and memory. 

We, the sons and daughters of fire!







Happy Celtmas 2013

Frankly, I'd rather be under the mistletoe...

I'm actually at a loss as to what I ought to write about this festive season. I've commented previously on a sort of seasonal ennui about not having a particular "holiday" to actually celebrate while many others do, and then one learns about tings like Grianstad an Gheimhridh, and suddenly there is a cultural "reason for the season", beyond ones familial traditions. The so called "War on Christmas" continues to be a non-issue, and Christmas is in no danger of being cancelled this year. There has been a bit of a dust up with some Atheistic/Humanistic groups utilizing pre-Christian symbols and figures in an attempt to get a fair shake when it comes to public displays of, well non-faith. They've every right to, and while it does get tiring that deities many of us worship are used especially because they are seen as being "dead" or "forgotten" gods, demographics have never really been kind to the modern polytheistic community. We need to get out more, and so the upshot of these sorts of things (like that "god graveyard" back in October) is that since we tend to be a raucous bunch, certainly more Atheists are aware that some still hold to some older ways.*

I suppose it also relates to my current situation and that while this is the first time I will actually be home on the 25th in three years, it is going to be a relatively low key affair.

Still, there will be feasting, there will be gift giving, there will be merry making. The little things do make all the difference; the smallest of lights in the midst of so much darkness**.


*I didn't realty write anything about the "god graveyard" thing, seemed rather pointless considering all the coverage it was getting. Still it has resulted in one of the single greatest and most powerful responses one could do, in the face of ignorance. My heartfelt thanks and admiration goes out to whomever left that offering on the "grave" of Freya. You make your ancestors proud.

**Not that I actually have anything against the Dark, per se.

"Pagan" Literacy Project

I often make assumptions, though my experience has been that I am usually proven correct, this is not always the case. With that in mind, anecdotally anyway I have begun to find, well not a growing problem, but one which is becoming more evident.

Find the cornerstone and under it the copper box that is marked with his name.
Unlock it. Open the lid. Take out the tablet of lapis lazuli.
 Read how Gilgamesh suffered all and accomplished all.

 "Pagans" as a group are a diverse and disparate lot, and who does and does not fall under what seems to be an ever growing umbrella is often a matter of great contention. One aspect, which I would make the case for, which more often than not is a shared aspect of the "Pagan" identity, is some degree of enmity with  Christianity. To be sure this would be best seen as a gradient of enmity; ranging from outright hate to basic theological differences, and everything in between. As such, there tends to be a reasonable degree of familiarity with the Christian Bible and some other aspects of their theology among "Pagans" in general. I know I'm not the first nor the last to make light of the fact that I know more about the Christian holy book than many of the Christians, whom I know and discuss things religious with, do.

I sing of arms and of the man, fated to be an exile,
who long since left the land of Troy and came to Italy
to the shores of Lavinium...

Each of us, or those of us who find ourselves in "the west" will necessarily have some familiarity with Christianity and its mythology. It is engrained in our societal customs, calendar, holidays, literature and language. It is simply inescapable. This is not, necessarily, bad. For example, while the Authorized King James Bible is one of the poorest translations available, it is none the less one of the single greatest works of literature ever written in the English language. I own a copy (the Oxford edition), have read it, and enjoyed much of it. As someone who enjoys literature, the work has great value, as in individual work as well as its influence on the development of writing in the English language.

'What wonder' Fiacha mac Fir Febe said,
'that the one who did this in his seventh year should triumph
 against odds and beat his match today,
when he is fully seventeen years old!'

So whether you've read it for enjoyment or to pick apart some contradictory theological argument you'll be having with aunt Pauline at Thanksgiving dinner, the fact is you've read some of it, read a book which makes allusions or references to it, seen a film which depicts an episode from it, or have had it quoted at you, you will have some experience of it.

But what do you know about the "Epic of Gilgamesh"? What was the point of the Illiad? Where was Odysseus trying to get back to in the Odyssey? What is the Aeneid all about? Why was a second battle fought at Moytura? What was the Cattle raid of Cooley? How did Thor end up in a wedding dress? Why did Sigurd fight a dragon? Why would Sita sing the Blues? Why did Son-Goku journey to the West? Why should anyone care about the Tale of Genji? The list of questions goes on, but the point is this: How literate are you when it comes to the works of pre-Christian cultures (and in many cases Christianized versions of those cultures tales) and your familiarity with them?

I do not doubt for a second that recons will have a very good grasp on the materials which informs their worldviews, both the primary materials as well as secondary texts and commentaries. How much then, would those same folks be cognizant of when it comes to the tales from other cultures? How would that knowledge then stand up against their familiarity with the Bible? What of "Pagans" who are not as interested in mythology as others?

My point is this; I think there is a need to educate ourselves about a rather large body of myth that ought to have a greater impact than it currently does. Is it not worth considering that many of us are far more familiar with the Christian mythos than that of the Hellenes, Romans, Celts, Germanics, Kemetics, etc? Would it not be worth developing a better working knowledge of the mythology which informs the worldviews of fellow polytheists and "Pagans"? Certainly there is a treasure trove of mythic literature available, and while I know I've already got a lot of reading and study on my plate, it behooves me to make just a little time to broaden my horizons and read some myth which isn't Gaelic in nature.

As such, I'd like to make a modest proposal and I'm calling it the ""Pagan" literacy project". It can be as narrow or as broad as you'd like to make it, but the goal is to read a work of myth or legend which does not have a direct connection to your own cultural tradition, or perhaps for those who are not Reconstructionists or more culturally minded polytheists, a deeper examination of the foundational mythology of the cultures you draw inspiration from. Even just one work will go a long way to broaden your understanding and perhaps appreciation of the mythology of your fellow polytheists.


Thoughts?

-Gorm

Tinker Bell Theology... or if you just believe.

I've not come across any sort of formal use of the term, though most folks seem to understand what I'm nattering on about when I make use of the expression. The "Tinker Bell Doctrine" or "Tinker Bell Theology" or "Tinkerbell effect" is a term I utilize when I encounter a peculiar, if pervasive, perspective when it comes to the nature of the gods. The origin of the term denotes the character Tinkerbell, originating in the works of J.M Barrie and most popularly, the 1953 Disney animated film, "Peter Pan", and in particular that the more an individual (or group) believes in something, the more potent it becomes. This is a concept which, while not necessarily a major strain in theological thought, is none the less pervasive, especially in fictionalized representations of mythic beings.

There are a number of fictional works where this approach to deities can be observed, ranging from stories by Douglas Adams, to Neil Gaiman, to the show "Supernatural". Jason, at the Wildhunt blog, has already explored some of the problematic aspects of the practical application to gods some of us actually still worship (in the case of the later); it is one reason why I dislike the show and despite the protestations of my wife and others, will not "give a chance". I'll touch on this in a little more detail later on.

I wanted to touch on and explore in a little more depth the approach Gaiman in particular takes. I really, really like the fiction of Neil Gaiman. I am at a loss to name any other recent author who so thoroughly "gets" what many refer to as "mythical thinking". The love the man has for mythology, in and of itself, permeates all of his works. Coupled with the understanding that myth is a framework, a lens through which to understand our experiences, to provide meaning to those experiences, is a thoroughly refreshing approach, normally only found haunting academic approaches to the subject itself.

Having gotten my fanboy gushing out of the way, Gaiman does make substantial use of "Tinker Bell Theology", smatteringly throughout his "Sandman" graphic novel series, but centrally in his novel "American Gods". In particular, his framing of the origins and extent of deities in particular (sometimes conflated with genius loci, sometimes not) fully adopts this perspective. The basic framework outlining the "life" of a god or goddess is as follows.

1. Humans have something they begin to believe in strongly.
2. This belief manifests itself in a physical form.
3. This form will follow the humans who believe in it, or another localized form will do the same.
4. The level of offerings/sacrifices/ influence directly correlates to the potency of the god/ goddess.
5. As the level of devotion wanes, so too does the god.

In conclusion, the mitigating factor in the existence of a deity is the extent in which Humans actively/inactively believe in them. The more people who believe, the stronger the deity is.

While this creates an interesting framing of the origins and nature of gods, and certainly works as a plot device in a number of fictional universes, it is at its core, incompatible with a truly polytheistic approach to theology. Pantheistic, Panentheistic, Monistic, even perhaps so called "soft polytheism", but not polytheism in and of itself.

I personally think such a theological approach to the gods is an almost textbook definition of self-importance and solipsism. That we create the gods, that they are beholden to us, that they need our worship to sustain them speaks far more to the ascendency and dominance of monotheistic thinking, than to the actual nature of the gods, from a polytheistic world view.

If the gods are little more than thought projections, delusions of a fevered mind or mass imagining, then what value do they have, really? How can these mere mental (and later physical) constructs, or idols, hope to compete with the supreme being, with the "author of creation"? In a word, they can not; they are literally straw(god)men, built up specifically so they can be torn down by the obvious truth which can only be found through the worship of the "One true God". Monotheists, while trying to explain away the historic context of the struggle monotheistic systems had in dealing with contemporary polytheism, will argue that references to "gods" do not refer to deities aside from their own, but the metaphorical idols of the human condition: money, greed, power, lust, etc. In the same breath, the gods of our ancestors are explained away as at best base superstition and at worst demon worship. The gods of polytheism necessarily have to be imaginary friends or hallucinatory monsters, because they do not fit anywhere else.

While I can appreciate the more sympathetic approaches in some of the other theistic frameworks I listed above, they all tend to have one thing in common; they reduce the existence, the nature of the gods, as being sourced to the human mind. The gods become archetypes of human endeavour, they become names of power, they become explanations of natural phenomena to a primitive people, they are relegated to a bygone era, they are shelved in storybooks, and they are proclaimed to be dead (especially when compared to the "living" god of monotheism). Is it any wonder, then, that people will often look askance at those of us who mention that we not only "believe" in these gods, but that we actively worship them?

This turns back to one of my major criticisms with the show "Supernatural", and also why I balk at it, but give Gaiman a pass. The narrative framing of the series is from a monotheistic theological perspective; gods when they do show up, are little more than glorified monsters and readily dispatched by the recurring heroes/villains. Living in a culture steeped and saturated with the superiority of monotheism, I'd rather spend my time in fictional universes more sympathetic to my own view of theology. While Gaiman does us similar framing, and is just as guilty of utilizing 'Tinker Bell theology", he applies it equally across the board. For those of you who like me have the 10th anniversary edition of "American Gods" and have read the Apocrypha, you'll understand what I'm getting at. For those who have not, suffice to say that Jesus is "stretched", just a little bit, not unlike an aged Bilbo Baggins. Gaiman gets a pass for having a good grasp of the myths his characters are sourced from, and not just using them as magical (and recognizable) names, to be disposed of at will for plot convenience. In addition, his sympathies lie with mythic thinking, and not mythic name dropping.

I am firmly of the perspective that the gods are both real and external to us. They do not require our worship, nor do they require our belief in order to exist. At least not anymore than I require your belief to exist. Subjectivity is fine and good, and context is always relevant, but one needs to have a grounding in what is, so as to not fall into the trap of solipsism. Why then worship the gods, if they do not need our worship to sustain themselves?

Because it is better to live in harmony with the gods than to be in opposition to them.
Because they enrich our lives and provide us with models and guidance to follow.
Because they offer to us a connection to something far greater than ourselves.
Because their worship establishes a connection with those who came before us.
Because they, and their stories, provide us with meaning and purpose.

I believe in the gods, because they believe in me.

Thoughts?

-Gorm

Oisin or Cailte?

Fenian lore, in all its longevity and folk charminess, bears the distinction of being the mythic period which overlaps more than any other, with the coming of Christianity to Ireland. While the accounts themselves, and the exploits of the Fianna under Fionn mac Cumhaill, take place in the centuries proceeding the mythic start of Christianity, Padraig's mission, the tradition ends with two accounts which are both some of my favourite literature, as well as quite inverse to one another.

These are Acallam na Senorach  (Or "The Tales of the Elders of Ireland") and Agallamh Oisín agus Phádraig (Or "The Dialogue of Oisin and Patrick". The former dates to the 13th century, and I would highly recommend Anne Dooley and Harry Roe's Translation. Oisn and Patrick, on the other hand can be found in Lady Gregory’s adaptation of the Fenian Cycle, Gods and Fighting Men (1904), itself derived (in large part) from Jerimiah Curtin’s “Myths and Folk-lore of Ireland” (1890). Curtain based his translations off of Agallamh Oisín agus Phádraig, which was published in Duanaire Finn, by Aodh Ó Dochartaigh, in the 17^th century.

Acallam na Senorach, is the larger of the works, and it contains a treasure trove of Fenian lore and legends. The basic premise is that Caílte mac Rónáin and Oisin, as well as a band of unnamed followers, are all that are left of the Fianna. Oisin and Caílte meet one last time, and Oisin decides he is going to stay with his family in the Sidhe. Calite and the others are then left to wander about, when they happen to stumble upon St. Patrick, who is in the process of missionizing to the whole of Ireland. Patrick inquires as to the giant, yet aged figure of Caílte, and he recites a few tales of the exploits of the Fianna. Patrick is naturally enamoured by the stories, when two angels descend and instruct Patrick to record all of the tales Caílte recites, for the betterment of Ireland. The story then has Caílte and his cohorts travelling from place to place with Patrick and his followers, while Caílte recites tales about the Fianna at every single place they inquire about. This story, among other things, is the source of the oft-quoted:

Truth in our Hearts, Strengths in our Arms, Fulfillment upon our Tongues.

"Patrick and Oisin", on the other hand is really an end piece of the Fenian lore, dealing specifically with Oisin upon his return from the Otherworld. Oisin, having become an ancient upon his touching down upon the earth, is now blind and decrepit. He is taken in by Patrick and his monks, and the story revolves around the debate which occurs between Oisin and Patrick regarding the merits of their pre-Christian and Christian beliefs. It is somewhat reminiscent of "The Madness of Suibne", in that Oisin as the Suibne figure, is the man out of time, enamoured of the wilds and the wonder of nature. Patrick is a joyless, at times cruel figure, giving Oisin only the meagerest of food and drink, and chiding him for his fondness of his heathen past. Patrick is very much the fire and brimstone preacher, condemning the Fianna to hellfire and Oisin himself will share their fate if he does not convert. There are some different versions, usually Oisin relents and converts, but sometimes he refuses and dies unbaptized.

We are presented with two very different accounts of a similar type of event, and two very different approaches to the subject (or subtext) of the religious conversion of the Irish. The later is fueled by animosity, contrast and Patrick being an all around git. The former, on the other hand, does its best to showcase the very best of the Pagan and Christian worldviews, and how they (could have been) reconciled. The nobility of the past, the heroic days of valour and adventure, the dignity of an old warrior mingled with the peace and joy of the new faith, in its magnanimity and charity to those who, while not "saved" in life, are deserving of heaven none the less.

I am by no means a fan of Christianity, as any who have a familiarity with my blog and me personally, are certainly aware. I'd not go as far as some who recognized March 17 as a day of mourning, but theologically there are some very real and problematic elements of the religion, and the world view that has developed, which I find myself at odds with. Truth be told, and it ought to be, I rather liked "Oisin and Patrick" precisely because of the animosity which permeates the narrative. It presents a side of the "argument" which has for the most part been omitted or left out, that of the pre-Christian. Even in the older manuscripts and texts, primarily the Ulster cycle, there is an underpinning of the "natural evolution" towards the new faith. All having been written long after the conversion, there none the less remains an undertone of "we know what's coming, and it has little to do with magical folks in mounds". The inevitability of the coming of Christianity, written with the gift of hindsight, precludes a lot of the value of the pre-Christian world view. Oisin and Patrick presents that rare voice of the conquered, who still clings to a way which is no longer seen as feasible or worthwhile by contemporaries. Make no mistake, Oisin is the conquered: aged, debilitated and crippled, at the complete mercy of Patrick. This is not a robust, full bodied defense of pre-Christian religion or world view; it is a man on his deathbed, lamenting for a bygone age, in the face of his own misery and the bully pulpit of Patrick. None the less, the criticisms made by Oisin are both poignant and even of value today. Who among us has been fortunate enough to never encounter Christian triumphalism? None to few, I would wager. Oisin and Patrick appeals to that part of me which seeks to stand against the hegemony, which wishes to see a broader return to the religion of my far distant ancestors in a more robust way. It appeals to the part of me which has endured for decades the notion that Christianity was and is "it" when it comes to religion, and that nothing before or since has any value.

On the other hand...

It would be foolish to ignore the centrality of the Christian religion, and in particular Catholicism in the history and culture of Ireland, both historically and today. Certainly, like many western democracies, there is a gradual shift towards secularism occurring; albeit in Ireland's case it is remarkably slow. The majority of the population of the republic is Catholic, and most of the rest are Protestant to some extent or the other. Certainly those of us who find ourselves in the Diaspora, whose ancestors left Ireland some centuries ago, have to face up to the fact that by and large, our ancestors were staunchly Christian. We really do need to go back to times immemorial to find those pre-Christian connections, and almost certainly any individual in our family tree's with a name would be Christian.

Christianity is also still the dominant religion in the world today, certainly this is not going to change in western countries any time soon, and so we find ourselves faced with the reality of demographics and being a rather tiny minority, have little recourse but to learn to live with it. Well, reality check time again, we already are living with it, have been and will continue to do so far into the future, so this will surprise exactly no one. I suppose the point of all of this is how ought we to proceed? The way of opposition and confrontation or the way of cooperation and pluralism? Do we walk with Oisin or Caílte?

In my youth, unabashedly, I would have sided with Oisin in this matter and there remains a part of me which still wants to. Being a little older, and by proxy more experienced, I think the best choice lies, however, with Caílte . Well for the most part; Caílte did after all become a Christian, and that's simply not something a GPR can do. Our textual traditions are the product of a gradient of pre- and co-Christian world views, but this does not prevent us from holding them as being central and relevant. We need to understand that we will never have a purely pre-Christian textual tradition, and do our best to sort the bits out which can in fact, be sorted.

The history, the "bad blood" between the pre-Christians and the Christians, is all but absent from our history; texts like "Oisin and Patrick" are extremely rare. By and large we simply do not have much evidence to support an antagonistic relationship between the ancient and slightly less ancient religious traditions of the Gaelic world. There is no evidence of the sort of religious conquests or mass conversions under the sword which is evident in the lands further to the north and to the south. I can understand why an Asatruar or Heathen may balk, why a practitioner of the Religio may be understandably hostile, but our own anger and frustration is a byproduct of a modern worldview which is noticeably absent in our own records. Try as some may, black armbands on March 17th and all, there simply is no basis in the evidence we have for such theatrics or outrage. This is because the process of conversion was gradual, peaceable and highly syncretic. Yes, in later hagiographical accounts the image presented of the "noble pagan" is replaced by conjurers of demons and other Christian bogey-men, but an examination of such "events" reflects far more the retooling of existing Biblical stories or of continental hagiographies made local, than disdain for actual pre-Christians. The largest victim of the coming of Christianity to Ireland, was Christianity itself; it would become quite literally, its own worst enemy. Christians have carried out far more unspeakable things to each other than they ever did to the pre-Christian Gaels.

I like to think I'm not so naive to see everything as sparkles and rainbows, but historically speaking, the Celts had a lot worse done to them by other polytheistic cultures (in fact one of the only clear examples of religious persecution from a polytheistic culture was that of the Romans towards the Celts, and in particular the Druidic functionaries) then they ever did from Christians. Yet, I've not seen any sort of the vitriol or disdain among some GRPs (and CRs) which is held for Christianity, aimed at members of the Religio.

Returning to the main thrust of this post, however, this entire piece is written primarily as an exploration of mythic ways in which figures who represent disparate world views interact with one another, and what (to some kind of extent) follows. The real world applicability is of relatively small consequence; not because the question is one that need not be explored, but because of demographics. It may have some wider applicability beyond the scope of GRP, perhaps extending as a model for CR’s or even more broadly neo-Pagan traditions stemming from the Celtic cultures. If nothing else, perhaps something to consider before slapping on a black arm band or celebrating “All Snakes Day” on March 17 as a knee jerk reaction to the imagined horrors of the conversion of the Gaels to Christianity.

 

Practically speaking, the vast majority of Christians aren’t even aware of our existence, or have some vague notion that people actually believe in those silly fairy tales they read as children. Anecdotal as it is, most of the people I encounter have such a poor grasp of their own religion, they’ve not even thought about other traditions, let alone how to interact with them. Pre-Christian perspectives are just that, pre-Christian, and as such are relegated to the past and have little to no bearing on the present. Patrick in which ever version outlives both Caílte and Oisin after all.

 

Ours is presently a rather insular community, already awash in a lake of polytheism, itself surrounded by a continent of monotheism. At the end of the day, I direct my message to the GRP’s, CR’s and Celtic influenced neo-Pagans. We decide how we want to understand and interact with the Galileans (albeit this could certainly be broadened to interfaith relationships in general), by understanding how the (mythic) “last Pagans” chose to do so. Perhaps it will largely depend on context, as so much often does. It is rather easy to abide alongside an open minded, pluralistic styled Christian, and this is reflected in the Patrick from the Acallam. The fellow who is not only willing to attentively listen, but to discuss and recognize the merits of a world view outside of their own. Of course is also helps when the other side is represented by someone who is also willing to listen, who is up to the task and capable. Caílte, while ancient, remains a staggeringly powerful figure throughout the narrative of the Acallam. It is another matter altogether to sit idly by while the fire and brimstone preacher lambastes everything one holds dear, and demeans and debases what is considered sacred. It does not help when the other is reduced to decrepitude  at the utter mercy of his host, that the host thinks nothing of the words being spoken, and only hears the last mewling of a long broken worldview.

 

I have come to understand that while the later is certainly the most vociferous, the most bombastic and the most influential, there are folks who are willing to listen. There are those who are willing to not only listen, but to learn and understand; to see the value in the worldview of another. This is really the only basis upon which we can build any sort of interfaith dialogue, and I think the best way forward.

Thoughts?

-Gorm

You are your words

I'm a bit miffed while writing this, a couple of things have transpired in a group I belong to, where folks have said unbelievable, stupid things, are called out on it and held accountable for their words. In a community where the bulk of interactions are through an electronic medium, you are your words. People can not judge you by the things you do outside of the context with which they have shared experiences with you. Regardless of how much of a decent person you claim to be, or how much you speak of virtues like honour, if you act like a dick when I'm around, a dick you will remain.

I'm starting to think, really believe, that for many people concepts like honour are just so totally foreign, that they have no idea what the word even means. They believe they do, but their actions/interactions, say otherwise. I think the problem comes down to rampant romanticism coupled with a wholly separate notion of the concept. From a GRP perspective, honour is "what is known", your value is determined by what you do, who you are, and some other mitigating factors which are not applicable/ appropriate in a modern context. Yes, it is related to someone as an individual, but it is the reputation of that individual within the context of a given community, that creates the concept of honour. It is not a self proclaimed, individualistic, value judgement. You can make the claim that you are honourable, but it is determined by others. Honour is a communal value, and this is where I think the divorce from the concept occurs. Because the hyperindividualism which is the core of  so much of the modern, Western image of the "self", overshadows every perspective on value and ethics, this can be something which is lost on those who have only a tertiary understanding of the ethical underpinnings of GRP.

It isn't enough to read the wisdom texts, because you need to understand why the values which are espoused in them, matter. If you lack that, then you'll come away from them with many a misguided notion of proper conduct, with platitudes and trite quips, instead of wisdom and understanding.

Honour walks hand in hand with responsibility, and if you tit about and do something dishonourable, it is your responsibility to fix it. Yours and no one else. At least from a practical standpoint; since honour is a communal value and by proxy your dishonourable behaviour reflects on your group, it may be their burden as well to make proper restitution. Within the context of the core group one belongs to, however, it is entirely upon yourself.

Forgiveness has its place, but it is a tertiary value and it is certainly not the moral underpinning of our world view. Given the centrality of it within Christianity, and so within the general cultural milieu, I get that it can be difficult to divorce oneself from it, but it has to be done if there is any chance of developing a different perspective. Honour can not flourish if the moral underpinning is "we are all equally terrible, and so have no basis to make judgements upon others."

So if you decide, even brashly, to make a statement, you had better be prepared to deal with whatever consequences transpire. If you made a mistake, it is upon you to rectify it. Do not expect others to be forgiving, especially where forgiveness has not been earned. Accept the responsibility your actions have, and the repercussions of those actions.

Words, once spoken, can not be taken back. Our ancestors understood this, we should do likewise.