B is for Body

(Another entry into the Pagan Blog Project)

Bodies.  Everyone has one, and it is the source of our knowledge of everything.  As a divinity student I became aware of the enormous amounts of writing about the body according to religious writers.  The Greeks loved to think about the interplay of body and soul, and this thread has been taken up for millennia by philosophers and theologians. 

So of course I became a Norse Heathen where there is no wide field of philosophy to delve into.  Although the Norse had the runes, they didn’t use it to write down much, and this is very much indicative of how they thought about life and body. 

Life was to be lived, and life was good and desirable.  “It is better to live, even to live miserably,” Odin says in Havamal verse 70.  In Havamal 71, he adds that “no one gets any good from a corpse”.  Even life in a damaged body is better than being dead.  Crippled?  Ride a horse.  Deaf?  You can still be brave in battle.  Blind?  Even in a harsh climate and conflict-filled culture it’s better to be alive than dead, especially if it’s later in life and you have your family around you.

Popular imagery of “the Vikings” usually portrays big, hearty people, laughing, drinking, fighting and eating large roasted animals.  In other words, the qualities of the Vikings that appeal to us in the modern era are qualities tied to their physicality.  The appeal of the gods is secondary.  A Norseman would find this completely understandable and be puzzled by asceticism.  Why would anyone give up food, drinking alcohol and having sex in the name of religion?  That is why Odin, Thor, Freya and the other deities enjoy feasting, partying and having lovers—because that’s what life is for!  When you do want to encounter the gods and the land-spirits, you don’t need to meditate quietly in a temple but to go out and experience them face to face.

The word “heathenry” points to it being a religion of people who spent much if not most of their lives outside, that is, on the heath.  We may speak about ours being “the religion with homework”, but to really be doing it right we ought to be outside, and not necessarily doing ritual.  Asatru should be experiential.  The building of a Heathen spirituality should come with just enough reading to make us eager to close the book, go outdoors and feel the forces that are embodied by the gods.  I believe that the best prayer we can offer is to go hiking, being constantly aware of what we feel, see, hear and smell.  I don’t live in anything resembling the forests of Scandinavia (and no, going to Ikea doesn’t count), so Sven and I like to go walking in the deserts near our home.  When we do, I like to wear athletic shoes with toes that allow me to feel the textures of the trail as if I were barefoot without having to worry about cactus spines or burning hot sand. 

I also believe that physical fitness should be part of heathen practice.  Most of the heathens I know are a fit and outdoorsy bunch, which is what I would expect from people who are reviving the religion of a set of cultures where everyone had to work their bodies hard just to stay alive.  We may not have to hunt, raise all our own food, build our own shelters, invade and battle off invaders, but we should develop strength by which we could.  If we cultivate the strength and skill, tracking, farming and building are good things to do in order to both experience nature and get a feel for the lives of our ancestors.

That the Norse enjoyed life is made evident by the fact that the afterlife wasn’t a preoccupation of theirs.  When they did think about it, it was a continuation of the life they had lived on earth.  After death most people went to sit with their family members who had gone on before them.  I’m not sure how many people actually believed in Valhalla or their chances of ending up there, but it was a never-ending round of fighting and partying with all wounds healed by evening and nights spent with plenty of meat and booze.  In contrast to the Christian heaven where the saved spend eternity bodiless and in perpetual praise of God, the heathen can look forward to a very physical afterlife that reflects the joy of being alive and embodied.

Go outside and feel the sun, the rain and the snow if you have it.  Submerge yourself in the oceans or lakes.  Smell the air and feel trees.  I wrote earlier about giving thanks for your food; add to that by paying attention to the flavours and textures in your mouth.  When you drink alcohol, be aware of how it makes you feel.  I took up yoga in the past few months and while it’s very obviously not a Norse practice, I do appreciate the way it makes me think about how I move, what the limits of my range of motion are and what perspectives I get when I’m doing the poses.

Asatru is not a religion of withdrawal from the world.  Embrace it.

A is for Ancestors

I've decided to participate in the Pagan Blog Project.  The 26 letters of the alphabet are the prompts, one for every two weeks.  I have until Friday to get this in.

The subject of ancestors is going to receive terribly short shrift in one measly column.  Ancestors, exchange of gifts and land-spirits are at the heart of Asatru, and all of which will be discussed in the next year.

Family ancestors are recalled in Asatru as the alfar (males) and disir (females).  We can also have ancestors by choice, as with friends or heroes who have gone before us.  The gods are honoured as our eldest kin, and   the royal families of Sweden and Denmark claim lineage back to them.

Ancestry is one of the things that draws people into heathenry.  I've heard more than one heathen or druid tell their spiritual journey as beginning when they realized that Christianity was foreign to them, imposed on their people by kings or invaders.  I think this is an excellent realization; cultural roots run deep, and for Scandinavians, Christianity has only been around for a millenia or less.  Before that, lines can be traced from there, to central Europe, to the Baltic and all the way east to India.  When you realize that the traditional gods of your people have a lineage stretching back to time immemorial, it's a powerful thing.

For my husband Sven, religious ancestry is very immediate.  He heard stories of the Norse gods at his grandpa's knee and watched him set bowls of milk out "for the cats" when they didn't have any cats.

For me, it was a harder reach.  I consider King Arthur, Gawain and Guenevere as ancestors of a sort, because it was through their stories that I first started feeling the existence of what I would later realize was paganism.   I first went to England in 1987 and going to Glastonbury was absolutely life-changing in that Avalon, the Chalice Well and the thorn tree planted by Joseph of Arimathea were real.  I could walk there, drink the water, and touch the tree.  It made me feel as if an unseen, spiritual world were only just barely out of reach, and I never saw reality or spirituality quite the same way again.

In our home practice, ancestors are quite important.  Sven has photos of his grandpa, a statue to house his family's hjemnisse and a cabinet that recalls his mom on or around our hearth.  I have a separate shrine to my family with small items belonging to my grandparents.  I don't know what my own family would think of what I do now religiously.  They were very Catholic, but at least they were on the liberal side.  I like to think that with all the shenanigans going on in the Church right now, they might not blame me, or actively approve.  If nothing else, heathenry has a lot of drinking and feasting going on, and most of us have had family gatherings that are all about that!

We're prepping for Jul chez Signy and Sven.  It's even feeling wintery, at least in the mornings when it's been in the low 40s (about 5 Celsius).  Today is the day of the Solstice, so I'll be changing the altar cloth on my personal altar and thinking about my personal devotion to Sol Invicta.

We also have a very special hypostasis of Odin paying a visit.

I found him at the Navy Exchange near my work, and I almost wept.  I've been envisioning Odin as the Gift Giver and Huntsman for a while, and my gosh, this is him!  He even came with his eye obscured the way it is in the picture.  He has pine cones on his coat and he's dressed for the forest.

There's been some talk about how Odin influences our images of Santa.  I also know I heard someone talking about Santa Claus as a modern deity.  This morning, there was this beautiful story on Storycorps on NPR. San Diego truck driver Boyd Applegate tells about what happens when he puts on the Santa Claus costume, and how he first heard his calling.

http://storycorps.org/listen/boyd-applegate-and-rhonda-dixon-2/

It's only a couple of minutes.  I heard this story and looked at Sven and said, "He's a priest of Santa Claus!"

This of course means Santa is real.  I'll leave everybody to interpret that as they will.

Happy Solstice!  Happy Jul!  Hail Sol, and Blessed Be.

SIGNY

Sorrow Throughout the Nine Worlds

I spent the weekend thinking about a heathen response (not “the” heathen response) to the unimaginably terrible shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary in Connecticut this past Friday.  I wasn’t sure if I should even attempt to write one, because I intended this blog to specifically not be a current events blog.  Still, I’m a theologian by training, and this is where the rubber hits the road where religion is concerned.

This is a pastoral question.  What can one say about a senseless massacre in which 20 completely innocent children were murdered, along with 6 adults who were by all accounts doing everything they could to protect their charges?  How does one make sense of that?

The Asatru answer is, “You don’t. “  I turned to the Eddas to see what I could find there, and the passages that seemed to echo the situation in Newtown were those concerning the death of Baldr. 

What we see in this story is a community in mourning.  Baldr, the pure and beautiful son of Odin and Frigga, has been senselessly killed.  There’s lots of blame to go around.  Loki killed Baldr for reasons unknown, or Hoedur killed Baldr without Loki’s assistance because he wanted Nanna, Baldr’s wife. Frigga should have made the mistletoe swear not to harm Baldr.  Finally, why did Baldr allow people to throw arrows and other missiles at him anyway?  Was he that proud of his newly-acquired Superman powers?

None of this makes one blessed bit of difference because Baldr is dead, and he’s not coming back.

The community of Aesir and Vanir come to the funeral.  Odin whispers something in Baldr’s ear before they lift him into the boat that will be his pyre.  Nanna dies or commits suicide because she cannot live without her husband, and she is laid beside him to be cremated.  Thor raises Mjollnir to bless the funeral pyre, but a dwarf thoughtlessly walks in front of him so Thor kicks him into the fire in his rage.

This is significant.  Thor, who is known for his holiness, who is bringing the sacred to the funeral, strikes out in anger and another life is lost.  To my thinking, this is something that happens to a lot of us religious folk and clergy.  In the face of intense sorrow we strike out at people over stupid things at the precise moment when we’re supposed to be holy and priestly.  This is a call for us to keep a close eye on our reactions, because if the mighty god Thor can lose it out of grief, so can we.  Grief is more powerful than Thor.

It is also more powerful than Frigga.  Frigga attempted the impossible when she asked for every being in the nine worlds to swear not to hurt her son.  She attempts it again when she has Odin send Hermod to Hel to see if he can bring Baldr back from the dead.  Frigga attempts the impossible a third and final time when she asks every being in the nine worlds to weep for Baldr, the condition for his return.

But again, none of this makes one blessed bit of difference.  Baldr is dead.  He’s not coming back.  Frigga is a mother, though, and one cannot think less of her for trying.  What loving mother wouldn’t attempt the impossible, multiple times, for the sake of her child?

Grief, anger, unanswerable questions, the wish of a parent to move heaven and earth in order to have their baby back.  The mourning in Asgard over Baldr mirrors that of Newtown, or any place that’s seen its children die long before their time.  If we look at the story for comfort, we won’t find any.  The events surrounding the death of Baldr show us that the gods aren’t any more immune from death and sorrow than we are.  We can point to the details on how all of them react to tragedy and see ourselves in the mother who is made irrational by grief, the angry father who will have vengeance at the cost of others’ suffering, the clergy doing or saying something stupid in the heat of their own emotion.  We have gods who understand what we’re going through because they’ve gone through it themselves.  Blessed be.

At this point, someone is probably thinking about how Baldr is going to come back and take Odin’s place after the Ragnarok.  Someone else is also thinking about how Baldr is drinking mead with Hel in her beautifully decorated hall.  Assuming that these two details are true, how likely is it that reminding Frigga of that would comfort her?  Baldr may be content and safe where he is, but Frigga can’t see him or talk to him or share confidences about the future with him.   When Baldr does return to Frigga, it will cost Odin’s life for him to do so.  Frigga is a wise and loving goddess, but she is also a very sad one. 

This brings me to the only advice I can give about the massacre or any other comparable tragedy.  If you wouldn’t say it to Frigga about Baldr, don’t say it to another human about whatever loss they’ve suffered.  Bring a casserole and offer to be there.  Otherwise, take a page from Frigga’s book and remain silent.

Saying Grace

I was never much for “saying grace” before meals.  It was a daily thing at dinner when I was growing up; my parents are very devout and traditional Catholics who continue the practice to this day.  I think that’s why I’ve never said grace very often of my own volition.

This is a shame, because giving thanks for one’s food is probably one of the most basic and meaningful forms of prayer one can offer.  Not to do so is downright churlish.  A stunning amount of work and sacrifice went into what’s on your plate in a web of inter-relationship.  For a pork chop, there was the farmer who raised the plants for the hog’s feed, the plants themselves, the farmer who raised the hog, and the hog itself who died to provide your meal.  This is leaving the people who in turn raised the oranges for the farmers’ breakfasts, or the people who built the tractors used to harvest the plants for the hog’s feed, etc.  Finally, there’s the person who bought and prepared the meal, even if that person is yourself.  Unless you grow and process all your own food, you can’t get away from the fact that you owe thanks to a lot of beings for making sure you had dinner last night.

We know that Thor’s hammer was used for blessing.  When Thor kills his goats so that he, Loki and a poor family can eat them, the hammer raises the goats back to life.  Evidence that this carried over into practiced is evidenced in this anecdote about Haakon the Good, on being presented with a drink:

“The king took it and made the sign of the cross over it. Then said Kar of Gryting, 'Wherefore does the king so? Will he even now not sacrifice?' Sigurd the Jarl answered, 'The king does as all do, who trust in their skill and strength; he blesses the bowl in the name of Thor, and makes the sign of the hammer over it before he drinks'.”

This little story tells us some rather important facts.  First, it tells us that there was a custom in existence of signing food and drink with the hammer.  Second, it tells us that this was done as part of a food or drink blessing.  Third, it points out a rather interesting distinction between a heathen who is performing a blessing over food and a Christian who is doing the same thing.  Christianity is notorious for attributing all good things to God alone, including one’s own deeds and virtues.  In contrast, blessing in the name of Thor is something done by those who trust in their skill and strength.   The partnership between humans and gods is based on mutual respect, and self-respect.  In recognizing our skills and strengths, we attract the blessing of Thor.  We do not humbly thank him for making us skillful and strong, then praise him for doing so.  Hail, Thor.

I’ve tried to remember to bless my food using the words of Havamal, verse 2: “Hail to the givers!  A guest has come.”  Among the givers I include all those mentioned in the second paragraph above.  I haven’t been very good at remembering to do this so far, but I’m going to start making the sign of the hammer as well.  Aside from Thor being a god for strong ones, he’s also one who blesses and waters the fields, so including him in the meal blessing is just simply the polite thing to do.

Posting comments

Admin note:  Sven just pointed out that there were way too many hoops to jump through, including a Captcha, to post a comment on my blog.  That's been fixed.  I hate Captchas and don't want even my worst enemies to be confronted by one when they just want to say, "Cool post, bro."

World-Tree Hugging

We celebrated Thanksgiving with a Reform Jewish friend of ours.  The conversation turned to ridiculous holiday customs.  I mentioned Lupercalia, which had a ritual associated with it so old that even the Romans didn’t know what it meant and thought it was kind of crazy.  Sven asked about “that Jewish holiday where everyone dances around an onion”.  I clarified that that was Sukkhot, that you dance around a near-inedible citrus fruit called an etrog in your booth erected on your Crown Heights fire escape.

Our friend said that no, in his opinion the weirdest Jewish holiday was Tu Bishvat, which I hadn’t even heard of.  It’s the Israeli take on Arbor Day and the recent haggadot for it center around eating dried fruits and nuts, because it is a time to celebrate the fruit harvest.

This reminded me of what I do like very much about modern Judaism, and that is its emphasis on the earth and nature.  Maybe the holidays are out of sync with one’s local weather unless you’re in the Middle East, but they are still about harvests, animal husbandry, and the phases of the moon.  The moon phases at least are universal.*

I thought to myself, “I want to celebrate a religious festival that is about trees.” 

Shortly afterwards I thought, “We need a holiday in honour of Yggdrasil!”

As Sven will attest, I like trees.  I grew up in the northeast, among deciduous forests of pines, oaks, maples, birches and other trees that are also common in northern Europe.  Sven grew up in southern California with palm trees, eucalyptus trees and California maples.  When we visited San Antonio, TX about a year ago all the dense forestation along the highways were completely alien to him.

I’ve written here and there about Yggdrasil in this blog.  When I was thinking about tree holidays, my thoughts naturally went to her—and Yggdrasil is female in my mind. 

(Frigga shrine with Yggdrasil holding incense as I cook.  If you look closely you can see a little Ratatosk at her feet.)

I’ve also talked about the Frigga shrine which in on a corner of the counter in my kitchen.  Beside the Allmother stands a tealight holder that I bought to represent the World Tree.  A friend of mine gave me a tree pendant for my birthday that I also identified with Yggdrasil.   Yggdrasil supports the Nine Worlds, is watered from the Well of Wyrd by the Norns, and was where Odin sacrificed himself to himself for the Runes.  There is mention in the Eddas and other lore about the suffering of the tree as Niddhogg gnaws at her roots. 

As humans poison the oceans, mow down the Brazilian rainforests and pump excess CO2 into the atmosphere, it is easy to mentally personify this destruction as Niddhogg.  While there is no evidence that the medieval Norse worshipped Yggdrasil per se, there was certainly the image of the Irminsul in Germany that was considered dangerous enough to Christianity that Charlemagne had it destroyed.  Saxo Grammaticus says that the Irminsul was worshiped, but given the source, a monk, this claim has to be taken with a shaker of salt.  It does seem that it was an axis mundi, a terrestrial duplicate of the tree that is the center of creation, uniting the nine worlds, and a gathering place for religion and commerce.

Although I haven’t written the ritual yet, this column having popped into my head only this afternoon, what I would want to see is a kindred planting at least one tree that is indigenous to the region and using that tree as a gathering place throughout the year.  I would like the ritual to contain readings about Yggdrasil, the tree planting itself, a blot to the tree-nisse of the area and promises to do one new thing ecologically for the benefit of Jord and Yggdrasil. 

As a stodgy reconstructionist, I know this is an innovation.  The pre-Christian Norse and Germans didn’t have a practice like this, but they didn’t need to.  We’re the ones who are mentally and emotionally separated from nature.  Connection to the ancestors of blood and tradition reminds us of who we were, who we are and who we are becoming.  It is in our interest to ease the suffering of the World Tree and remember that we live in Midgard at the pleasure of Jord.  Hail, Yggdrasil.  Hail the traenisse.  Hail, Jord.

*Yes, I just compared Asatru and Judaism.  They are both ethnic religions now in diaspora.  If you have problems with that, you need to seriously contemplate why.