The Pagan Creed

In his 1999 book on the development of the Wiccan religion in Britain, The Triumph of the Moon, historian Ronald Hutton lists three statements of belief issued in the early ’90s by the Pagan Federation, a UK-based nonprofit group that seeks to educate the public about Neopaganism. The statements are meant to express the three core points of what amounts to a Pagan creed that can be applied broadly. On page 390, Hutton summarizes them as follows:

The first component is an acceptance of the inherent divinity of the natural world, and a rejection of any notion of the creation of that world by a power outside itself. Such acceptance is immediately recognized to take a range of possible forms, from the animist belief that the cosmos is empowered by an apparently infinite number of spirit forms to that form of monotheism which suggests that the planet is the living body of a single divine entity.

This certainly accords with my rejection of the concept of the “supernatural,” that is, that some forces transcend or exist wholly apart from the natural order of things. Anything that exists beyond the direct perception or experience of human beings is nevertheless a “natural” part of the universe. We are not the arbiters of nature’s boundaries. This causes me some trouble, though, with the concept of “divinity.” I would argue that “divinity” is merely a matter of perspective. To a garden-variety ant, I am like a pagan god. They cannot perceive me in my totality, but I can smite them at will. With my lawnmower I can devastate their world and send them scrambling in a panic. Compared to their brief lifespans, I seem eternal. Even a dog, depending on when you get one, may not live long enough to see you visibly age. To such creatures, humans may seem “divine.” By the same token, recognizing that the Planet Earth is a living being, now some 4.5 billion years old, doesn’t necessarily require a belief that such an entity is “divine” or that celebrating Gaea should properly be labeled “monotheism.” In some nature-based religions, the Earth may be considered a divine being, but in Scientific Paganism, Gaea is just Gaea.

The second component is the rejection of any concept of a divinely prescribed law for human behavior, and therefore of the concepts of sin and salvation. In place of those is an ethic of freedom to express and gratify individual needs and desires, and so pursue personal growth and happiness, with the single major limitation of an undertaking to avoid harming others in the process. This restriction is given a mystical quality for many by the concept of the inherent sanctity of all living things. The two aspects of this morality are summed up in ‘the Wiccan Rede’: ‘Do as ye will an’ ye harm none.’

Whether or not one considers the Earth to be a divine being, Gaea does not issue proclamations or commandments to control human behavior. That’s on us. Our ability to reason is enough to point us in the right direction, if properly applied and excuses for bad behavior not countenanced. We don’t need the threat of damnation or destruction after death to enforce our ethical systems. As history shows, this cop-out too often merely helps one group impose its will on others, thereby leading to exploitation and abuse. Anytime the needs and/or desires of one person come into conflict with those of another person, the only ethical option is negotiation. And if we accept, as we must, that all people are of equal intrinsic value, then the outcome of such negotiations must balance the gratification of the individual against any harm to the community. There is no recourse to some set of “supernatural” edicts. A further point of clarification: it is my understanding that the Wiccan exhortation “Do as ye will” does not mean ‘do whatever you want’ so much as ‘be yourself’ or ‘live as your “will” (true self) impels you to live.’

The third component is an acceptance that divinity can be both female and male. This formulation leaves room for a further range of conceptualizations, from a single bisexual Great Spirit to a genuine polytheism, although duotheism—by which a goddess and a god appear in various aspects—is the most commonly articulated. The essential practical expression of this principle is that women are held to represent religious power at least as effectively as men.

Setting aside my reservations about the very idea of “divinity” discussed above, the conclusion of this third statement seems like a no-brainer to me. Valuing one conceptualization of gender over another is a relic of our civilization’s patriarchal past. Likewise, it is illogical to assume that anatomical details make one more or less adept at conducting a ritual or explicating a system of belief. But in any case, Scientific Paganism doesn’t get bogged down in arguing for particular manifestations or anthropomorphisms of cosmic forces. Such constructs can be expressed in male, female, androgynous, or asexual terms as seems appropriate. This impulse merely reflects the human need to make such forces relatable. One wouldn’t waste time arguing the gender of gravity, for instance.

Hutton then sums up:

At a glance it should be obvious that these principles can also characterize not only every other variety of modern Paganism, but some varieties of Hindu and Shinto beliefs and many tribal religious systems. They could, indeed, be endorsed by liberal Christians, with some reformulation such as the recognition of a Supreme Being who is beyond gender, incorporating both female and male. As already indicated, they leave room for a very wide span of beliefs, let alone practices, of a sort quite large enough to characterize separate religious systems. An unspoken definition is therefore crucial, that Pagans today are people who hold those tenets and turn for symbolism, kinship, and inspiration to the pre-Christian religions of Europe and the Near East, and that pagan witches identify in addition with a refashioned, positive version of the traditional figure of the witch.

This passage suggests that the core of many religions is essentially the same, and they are differentiated largely by the trappings with which they adorn themselves. This speaks to the underlying unity of the human experience, which is of paramount importance when religions must coexist on the same small world. As my ancestors come from the British Isles and northwestern Europe, it makes sense that I would look there for ritual imagery, but other people would naturally be drawn to different inspirations. Scientific Paganism tries to take a broad view of human activity, so diversity is not a problem. We are all aspects of Gaea, our living world.

Litha Intro

The celebration of the Summer Solstice, the border between spring and summer, is known by many Pagans as Litha, a name attested to in the 8th-century writings of the Venerable Bede. In the lands of the Anglo-Saxons, of whom Bede was writing, Litha was considered the midpoint of summer and is still celebrated as Midsummer Day throughout Great Britain. However, in America, due to climatic differences, the Summer Solstice marks the beginning of the season. Regardless, the evidence suggests that the solstice was celebrated with bonfires at least as far back as the Middle Ages, when written records of such practices begin. In his 1996 book The Stations of the Sun, historian Ronald Hutton offers a possible derivation of the term bonfire: a contraction of “bone-fire,” that is, a fire in which clean bones were burned instead of wood. He notes, “The stench of the burning bones… was thought to drive away dragons” (p.313). According to Hutton, a fire made of wood without bones is more properly called a “wakefire.” He finds convincing evidence of the widespread celebration of a pre-Christian fire festival at the Summer Solstice throughout England and Ireland, though much less so in Wales and the Scottish Highlands, except in areas with a strong Scandinavian influence.

Since the Summer Solstice is the longest day of the year (and consequently the shortest night), it seems appropriate that the theme of Litha celebrations should be “Light.” What does light mean to us? As human beings, it provides an awareness of our surroundings as well as clarity. And at this time of year, light is abundant. We can shine some of that light on the darker areas within us and re-evaluate—see if we are where we want to be or if there are things we need to work on. For the Planet Earth, sunlight provides sustenance. Plants depend on photosynthesis to feed themselves, herbivorous animals depend on the plants, and carnivores consume the plant-eaters. They in turn are consumed after death to provide nutrients to the soil in which the plants grow. Light keeps the cycles of life going, and that’s something worth celebrating. In some ways, the Summer Solstice feels like a high point; the sun is at its strongest, the light is at its brightest and lingers its longest. But we should be mindful of the shadows, for we are crossing over into the waning half of the year.

Litha Ritual

Celebration for Litha, the Summer Solstice

Opening Poem

Suggested reading: “The Sunflowers” by Mary Oliver

The Summer Solstice and the Meaning of Litha

Twice a year, the Earth reaches the balance point between day and night. On those days, the equinoxes, we celebrate the life-sustaining cycles of light and dark and reflect on the turning wheel of life and death. When the day and the night are of equal length, we are reminded of the equality of all living things—for they are all aspects of Gaea, our living world. We celebrate with flame, whether the flicker of candlelight or the roar of a bonfire, to remind us of the energy of the sun and the creative spark of the cosmos beyond.

Twice a year, too, the Earth transitions from lightness into darkness and then darkness into light. On these days, the solstices, we pause again, to celebrate the lesson the Earth teaches us: that all things are temporary and that change is inevitable. The summer solstice comes at a time of warmth and light, of lengthening days and shortening nights.

At Litha, our celebration of the summer solstice, we are reminded that no matter how demanding life gets, the night always returns. The day will always end and a new night will always begin. Life is often a struggle; we grasp and slip, fight and fail, win then lose. But tranquility, like the night, is always present, if we have the presence of mind to find it.

We are at the year’s high point; as the wheel turns around us, the days will now grow shorter and shorter until we are once again spiraling beneath the stars at Yule, the celebration of the winter solstice. Even as we anticipate the peace and rest of the long dark night, we celebrate the bounty of the Earth and the life-giving power of the sun. The fields are flourishing, the fruits and herbs are fragrant and full of life. And so we celebrate the richness and bounty of our own lives.

Today is the beginning of the waning half of the year; from now until the winter solstice the day will shorten and the night will lengthen. Today marks the start of the gathering dusk, with the promise that summer will come to an end. Now we shed our fears and worries and celebrate all that is and all that will be, the ideas and projects we have brought to fruition, the joys and sorrows that have grown from the seeds we planted.

As we walk the spiral, let us think about what it is we want to celebrate about this year. What did we hope to bring into our lives this year? What did we hope to let go of? Have we done the work that will yield a rich harvest in our own lives? In the bright sunshine of summer, what do we want to learn, to create, to nurture? This is the wonder of Litha, to honor all that we have made manifest in our lives, and to look forward to the restful night that is yet to come.

Walking the Spiral

In the light of the sun   The Earth is alive
In the warmth of summer   The Earth is alive
We celebrate together   The Earth is alive
With hope for the future   The Earth is alive
With confidence in ourselves   The Earth is alive
When the world is in bloom   The Earth is alive
When the animals play   The Earth is alive
When the leaves are green   The Earth is alive
When the rivers flow   The Earth is alive
When the soil is rich   The Earth is alive
With the seeds we planted   The Earth is alive
With the work we have done   The Earth is alive
We will reap our harvest   The Earth is alive
Summer is here once more   The Earth is alive
Our bodies are strong   The Earth is alive
Our minds are keen   The Earth is alive
Our hearts are open   The Earth is alive
Life will continue   The Earth is alive

(Repeat until all have completed the spiral walk.)  

Candle Lighting

I light this candle in the name of the Ancestors, the Guardians, and all the holy ones who walk the world. May its light guide all the kindly spirits to bless this place.

I light this candle in the name of learning. May its flame remind us to look towards the unknown with curiosity and an open mind.

I light this candle in the name of creativity. May its glow inspire us and give us the confidence to share our true selves with the world.

I light this candle in the name of friendship. May its light continue to bring us together, so that we might offer each other joy, comfort, and company.

I light this candle in the name of the sun. May its flame warm our spirit and stay with us in the months to come.

I light this candle in the name of the Earth. May it illuminate our path through the coming year and remind us to walk with peace and compassion for all Gaea’s children.

Closing Poem

Suggested reading: “The Peace of Wild Things” by Wendell Berry

The Word ‘Pagan’

At the beginning of his 1999 book The Triumph of the Moon, Ronald Hutton discusses the different theories that have been advanced regarding the origins of the terms ‘pagan’ and ‘heathen,’ which are used today to describe various nature-based religions and their adherents.

Until recently, there would have been no equivalent difficulty in defining the original meaning of the term ‘pagan.’ For over a hundred years writers had commonly asserted that the Latin word paganus, from which it was derived, signified ‘rustic’; a result of the triumph of Christianity as the dominant, metropolitan, and urban faith, which left the old religions to make a last stand among the more backward populations of the countryside. In 1986, however, the Oxford-based historian Robin Lane Fox reminded colleagues that this usage had never actually been proved and that the term had more probably been employed in a different sense in which it was attested in the Roman world, of a civilian; in this case a person not enrolled in the Christian army of God. A few years later a French academic, Pierre Chuvin, challenged both derivations, arguing that the word pagani was applied to followers of the older religious traditions at a time when the latter still made up the majority of town-dwellers and when its earlier sense, of non-military, had died out. He proposed instead that it simply denoted those who preferred the faith of the pagus, the local unit of government; that is, the rooted or old religion. His suggestion has so far met with apparent wide acceptance.

A similar problem attends the equivalent northern European term ‘heathen’. The frequent linkage of ‘pagan’ to rusticity has produced a similar popular connection of this other word with ‘heath’, as if it originally indicated people driven to worship the forbidden old divinities in wastelands and wild places. As the Oxford English Dictionary makes clear, however, ‘heathen’ is the English version of the term used throughout the Germanic language group in the early Middle Ages to signify a follower of a non-Christian religion. It was coined originally by the Goths, the first speakers of a Germanic tongue to undergo a mass conversion to Christianity. Unhappily, the similarity to ‘heath,’ so apparent in modern English and German, does not occur in Gothic. Experts have failed to discover any other likely linguistic origin for ‘heathen,’ and the matter will probably remain a mystery (p.4).

As with most of the actual practices of pre-Christian religions in northern Europe, even the etymology of these general terms is debated by scholars. The scarcity of evidence, either literary or archaeological, has long frustrated efforts to reconstruct these traditions in an authentic way. Fortunately, my conception of Scientific Paganism is not particularly concerned with such matters. Where we’ve come from is less important than where we’re going.