My Hellenistic Lughnasad

As I go about my daily business this week, I feel a swath of closeness to the gods that sharpens my awareness of them and makes it so much easier to be mindful of their guidance.  It’s an effect that I carry away each year from Laurelin’s Lughnasad festival, and that hasn’t changed since I started walking the path of Hellenismos two years ago.  In fact, it’s made it all the more moving for me.

This may feel counterintuitive, because Pagan festivals can be hard for non-Wiccans.  Casting a circle is about as inclusive to our diverse community as the “non-secular” prayers I recited on Boy Scout camping trips as a kid — you know, the ones that invariably invoked Jesus, much to the chagrin of my Jewish friends.  Workshops and rituals tend to reflect the attendees’ interests, and most active members of the Pagan community have, at the very least, been influenced by Wiccan tradition.
Laurelin’s Hestia shrine
But Laurelin is different.  I’ve danced to raise energy according to Kemetic tradition on that land, I’ve taken classes on Houdou practices, and this was the first place I paid honor to the ancient Greek gods.
That honoring was in the form of a procession to the shrines of Hestia, Hermes, Pan, the nymphs, and Aphrodite.  Participants washed their hands in khernips, purified water, before casting barley at each shrine and pouring libations of watered wine as the priestess led chants and prayers in ancient Greek.  Although it was intimidating to me at first, it was my gateway to the religion of some of my ancestors.
To be fair, there was no shortage of cast circles and directional invocations at this festival.  The annual games, held in honor of Lugh, took on a somewhat Biblical feel for this end-of-the-world-themed event, with the teams being named for the Four Horsemen.  And those shrines were, and continue to be, used in ways that my Greek forebears probably wouldn’t recognize as their religion.  But I felt rooted by those standing stones, by my daily processions to those shrines, and by the ad-hoc shrine to Poseidon that I erected for the time I was there.
Such was the pull of the gods upon me that I was forced to miss a workshop my first morning; I was instructed to go forth and write hymns to several gods.  I wrote in English, because it is the language of my thoughts.  There are excellent reasons for speaking to the gods in the language they first heard from man, and I incorporate as much ancient Greek as I am able, but the muses have made me a master of but one tongue, and that is the one which expresses my love and faith best.
I completely understand how practitioners of Hellenismos, or any other religion which has been reconstructed from ancient days, can feel like they are on the sidelines of the broader Pagan community.  I do not.  It is my very good fortune that my favorite Pagan festival roots me in my faith, and allows me to participate in the practices of others.  I wouldn’t have found my gods otherwise.
Advertisements

One thought on “My Hellenistic Lughnasad

  1. Also through the community that has grown up around Laurelin, I have experienced shamanic working, ceremonial magick, and elements of a Norse variant practice. Probably there have been others over the years that I have forgotten to mention.

    Because of my time in that community, I understand that sharing across traditions can be done in a way that deepens everyone. The secret, I think, is people sharing from a place of depth–in relationship with their own practice and gods, and with the gathered community. And while explanations are vital, it's as important that what is shared be rooted in magick, or worship, or ritual: in spiritual experience, in other words, rather than in the dry intelluctualized notions we carry with us OF that experience.

    It is what we DO as community that makes this kind of respectful syncretism work… Doing more than talking. For while every practice will not be compatible with every one of us, there is a kind of gathering together in sight of all our gods that can work, and does work, when we shut up and listen: to one another, and to our gods.

    Which is actually the reason I call myself Pagan, not Wiccan. Because my allegiance is to that, far more than to the particular forms of my personal training. (I honor those too… But the depth of experience I've found in working across boundaries with my friends has been at least as great, and I know it.)

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s