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.

Pagan Stuff

I was browsing around in a thrift store last weekend*, having donated some items.  You never know when you’ll find something amazing that would work well as a devotional or votive item. 

I walked out with a ceramic mug that I promptly forgot at my next stop.  Perhaps this was subconscious, because as I was browsing, I started remembering that Sven and I had, before we moved into our condo, resolved to Have Less Stuff.  While I’m not a hardcore minimalist like Tammy Strobel of the Rowdy Kittens website**, it did get me thinking about Asatruar and our relationship with our stuff.

Asatru—and pagans in general I’ve noticed over the years—tend to have a lot of stuff.  I type this as I reached into my bag for a lip balm and found a Mjollnir at the bottom that I bought to include in a travel shrine for Thor. 

Every Asatruar I know has a lot of books.  I’m no exception.  We also tend to have a lot of firearms, which have their accompanying gun safes, cleaning tools, ammunition, etc.  All of these take up a lot of space and are particularly annoying to move.  Then as mentioned above, there are the shrines and altars.  Sven and I each have an altar, plus we have shrines.  This means statues, horns, candles, lanterns, offering bowls, votives and STOP ME BEFORE I BUILD A SHRINE AGAIN.

Ahem.

So I’ve been writing a lot about Asatru as an earth religion.  This got me thinking about how, if we’re an earth religion, we reconcile that with the material items we collect.  There’s no right or wrong answer.  For myself, I’ve been purging clothes and books.  The criteria has been twofold: do I use this item more than once a year, and if not, does it have a story behind it?

The clothing purge has been relatively easy; if I don’t wear it more than once a year and I have no emotional tie to it because it’s not a gift, historic t-shirt, or vintage, it goes.  I now have more room in my closet.

My books are the issue, although a lot went away.  I did a large purge before we moved into the condo.  My criteria is now if I can’t replace them on Kindle.  Many of these are my textbooks from years of theology school.  I have some art books.  I don’t have as many books on mythology and the occult as I thought I did, and that is definitely an area where I prefer my books as books rather than digits.  Still, many of them are available as digits, and I must say I like having two editions of the Poetic Eddas riding around in my cell phone.

Fiction has taken the hit, so right now most of it is stuff that is irreplaceable.  I’m not going to get rid of my small Tanith Lee collection.  I know I could find a good home for it very quickly, but it’s not available for Kindle and they’re the old yellow-spine Daw originals.  The same goes for my early 20^th century fantasy like James Branch Cabell.

The altars and shrines are one area where stuff must be accumulated.  I can’t think of any other way to honour the gods and ancestors.  I suppose one could have a minimalist shrine to the Aesir that consists of a shelf holding items to represent each one, but it would require a very Zen approach to make it spare and striking, not a collection of shorthand symbols.  The ancestors require items; photos, items they owned, and whatever votives one uses to honour them.  Sven has his mom’s nursing badges and some of his dad’s tie clips.  I have my grandfather’s motoring hat and my grandmother’s wooden spoon.

We also like statues, and have them for Thor, Frigga, Loki and our hjemnisse Ted, among others.  Other Asatru we know have little china figures to represent their housewight and the Alfar and Disir.  It just seems to come with the territory.

What I concluded, walking around Auntie Helen’s, is that if something feels like it’s missing from your altars and shrines, you probably need it.  Minimalism and non-materialism calls for one to recognize the difference between needs and wants, but when it comes to dealing with the deities, the difference between the two often blurs.  At the 2011 Pagan Pride event, I found a piece of art that was a dollhouse-sized cabinet onto whose shelves had been glued a Mjollnir, a plastic raven, a tiny drop spindle and a little wooden candle. Inside the one door of the cabinet was a rune chart and a picture of Odin.  It reminded me of Steve’s mom, so I bought it.  Did we need it in the “needs and wants” sense?  No, but we’d feel emptier if we didn’t have it.  At the same time there are plenty of other Norse images and items that would be nice to have, but that’s all the attraction we feel towards them.

That’s my rationale, and I’m sticking to it.  Souls need feeding too.

*Auntie Helen’s Thrift Store, 4028 30^th Street, San Diego, CA 92104, http://www.auntiehelens.org raises funds for laundry fluff & fold for people with AIDS.  This is a worthy enterprise and the mens’ clothing there is top-notch because it is donated and sold to gay men.

**http://www.rowdykittens.com.  Tammy and her husband Logan moved into a 400 sqft apartment in Portland while their 109 sqft Tumbleweed Tiny House was being built.  They now live on a family ranch in NorCal, and just towed the Tiny House there.  Living the dream, but a little too hardcore SMALL for Sven and myself.

I got my wish!

It's turned chilly.  Well, chilly for San Diego.  It's 62 out right now.  But the California maples in the courtyard where I work changed colour and the big pines have dropped enormous pine cones.  Plus the pumpkin spice items are out, which I've heard several people say is their own signifier of the change in the seasons.  I've gone with a pumpkin spice tea rather than the lattes other people can indulge in, because I really have to watch my weight right now, the Army says so.  (I've started to refer to all the weird restrictions on what standards I must meet and what I can and cannot indulge in as my "ritual purity".)