And here begins Part 2.
The way to reconstruct a dead religion, of course, is research. Lots of it. That and a willingness to pick through the hundreds of popular occult do-it-yourself books that just plain get it wrong looking for the occasional verifiable gem.
For example, there WAS no single Celtic religion, so far as we can tell today. The Celts were a diverse and widespread people who settled from the Danube Valley to the British Isles to Asia Minor to the Iberian Penninsula and who—just maybe—even planted colonies in North America. They possessed whole pantheons of pantheons, and talking about a single Celtic belief system today is like talking about a single Native American religion. There just ain’t no such animal.
But it IS possible to pick and choose, to find what works for you.
I had two dear friends back in Maine who were Celto-Roman reconstructionists. They did careful research [Jane wrote a scholarly book on Celtic beliefs], got married in an authentic Roman ceremony, and hosted rituals at each full moon in honor of various Celtic and Roman deities, including Rosemerta, Epona, and even a newly-rediscovered Roman goddess whose name escapes me at the moment. Their rituals included modern elements—they weren’t recited in Latin, for instance, and there was a Wiccan/Golden Dawn flavor to the calling of the quarters—but the rituals were powerful and moving.
And that, of course, is what religion is all about: how does it affect you, on a deep and spiritual level?
I guess what is important to remember first is that reconstructions are reconstructions. Raymond Buckland, after the political implosion of his branch of Gardnerian Wicca, went on to create Seax-wica, which was presented as a mode for how the ancient Saxons might have worshipped. He took care to remind the reader that there was a lot of supposition involved, and did not try to pass it off as the genuine article . . . though that can’t be said of some of his spiritual offshoots. Practitioners of modern Wicca—as MatTheCat intimates—are often less than rigorous in their historical research, and pass on both unfounded assumptions and outright fictions as fact. Nine million slaughtered in the Burning Times, a universal matriarchy before the coming of the patriarchal warriors, and modern Wicca as a lineal descendent of “the Old Religion” are three examples.
As a recreation of ancient religions, in fact, modern Wicca sucks. [Especially the eclectic varieties that hijack deities from every pantheon they can get their hands on, and I can say that without malice, since I consider myself an eclectic Wiccan.]
And yet none of this in any way, in my view, negates the very real personal value, comfort, spiritual insight, and personal growth inherent in these religions, benefits which are the goals of most traditional belief systems. For the modern practitioner, the historical accuracy of his understanding of Isis, say, is less important than how he relates to her on a personal level. Knowing as much as can be known today about her worship, her cult centers, her attributes, her mythology will help the modern worshipper pick and choose those attributes important to him, but it’s on the inner level, where he meets her, that personal transformation and revelation and growth and understanding occur.
So learn all you can about the pantheon that calls to you, but don’t be overly concerned about getting all of the details right.
All of that said, a couple of warnings.
Be careful about appropriating the living spiritual practices of others. Nowhere is this more obvious and just plain wrong than in the New Age appropriation [and complete misunderstanding] of Native American spirituality. A horror story: certain medicine wheel sites in the West have been closed to the public because New Agers and neopagans were coming there, “feeling the vibes,” taking some of the stones, and replacing them with quartz crystals in a misguided attempt at free exchange. Incredible arrogance. These sites are the focus of active religious practices today, and such crack-brained self-centeredness only perpetuates the white-eyes’ thieving legacy toward the People.
And the better your historical research, the better the results if you’re looking to create outward manifestations of the gods’ presence—in successful spellworking, say. Some believe the gods are distinct from humankind, pre-existing and transcendent; others say the gods are created by us and empowered by our belief and worship, immanent and dependent upon us for existence. No matter which theory you adhere to, the energies we think of as gods and goddesses do by now have an existence and characters distinct from human activity and mind. Whether that character was imparted by human belief over millennia, or was there long before humanity appeared on the scene is unimportant. If you call upon Mars to help work a love spell, you may be in for some trouble. By the same token, you probably wouldn’t want to cast a circle and invite both Areas and Hephaestus, say . . . or Osiris and Set, or Loki and Thor. Nor is it a good idea, in my opinion, to mix pantheons as so many eclectics do—calling in Pele and Hecate and Kali and the Callieach all for the same working. [shudder]
Finally, in my experience there IS a genetic factor in some cases. It’s well known that modern folks of Celtic heritage often seem to have a bit of the “fey” about them, and connect more readily with the mythos of Scotland or Eire. Same for Native Americans. [I’m afraid I got a double dose, there . . . three quarters’ Scots Gaelic and one quarter Choctaw!] That emphatically does NOT mean that a white cannot embrace a worship of the African orishas, or of the Hindu Kali, or of the Great Spirit. I know whites who do so, and who seem to do so successfully. But there does seem to be something “in the blood” that tugs a person back to the roots of their genetic forebears. It may have nothing more to do with the issue than initial interest through family stories. Or it may relate to the Jungian collective unconscious. But it seems like something more.
So, to get back to your original question—you’re right. The direct student-teacher lineage no longer exists for any religion. [For that matter, even for the Catholics who claim Peter was the first pope, or for similar apostolic traditions, can it truly be said that what Catholics believe and teach today has that much in common with 1st century religious practice? I don’t think so.] The only way to bridge the gap is to study the subject, and learn all you can about it. Seek out people who practice the tradition you’re interested in, see what they say and what sources they use. Beware of the quick, slick, pop-psych approach of so many Llewellyn books; where possible, go to sources closer to the original. Don’t just learn about the religion; to understand an ancient religion, you need to understand the culture, the society, the people. With your interest in history, it sounds like you’re already on that path. By the same token, though, true worship comes from within, not from any book.
And if you don’t believe in reconstructionism and are just wondering why it’s done, that’s okay too. I believe the answer there is that people who embrace a deliberately reconstructed religion do so looking for what I think of as “handles” to help them grab hold of and manipulate their own deep unconscious, the seat of magic, of our perception of reality, and of our understanding of who and what we are. My Celto-Roman friends know they are not exactly recreating genuine 1st-century practice, but it gives them a useful gateway into the depths of their own souls.
Well, THAT was a long blather. Thanks for indulging me, folks!
--Bill
