A Curious Time of Faith

This holiday season I had some very interesting encounters. As I offered a Merappiful Chrismukkwansoltivusuleday to people that I’d meet, I found something very curious: there are more pagans out in the world than you’d generally assume. I’m not talking robe-wearing, pentacle-dripping pagans (let’s face, if you’re dressed like that you’ll be easy to spot), but your run of the mill, ordinary, going-about-their-business pagans. They’d hear the “solstice” aspect of the portmanteau and ask if I celebrated solstice, or yule, or if I was “in the community” or other such inquiries. It’s placed me in a situation I hadn’t quite expected.

You see, I’m what would typically be described as an eclectic solitary. That means that I practice my beliefs in private (for the most part), and that they are individualized to what resonates with me. Part of that came about because in a nation as amazingly non-pagan (and sometimes anti-pagan in some communities) as the United States, it’s often best to needlessly attract the attention of the majority. Part of it was also because I’m not much for regularly scheduled group stuff (or regularly scheduled anything…come to think of it). As a result, meeting up with a coven or whatever on a regular basis to call a circle or engage in some ritual just isn’t exactly on my road map.

Even so, I do miss the sense of community that comes with being with a group where I don’t have to be circumspect in what or how I choose to believe in that which is greater than myself. To be with people who would understand what I was talking about when I spoke of calling the corners, or of Beltane, Imbolc, and Mabon. You see, pretty much all of my friends and family, for as far back as I can remember, have been of one Christian sect or another. While many don’t really force the issue, there is always a sort of undercurrent in our relationships. I’m kept at arms-length because I do not follow the same rituals as they do. I find it odd because my message is the same as theirs: Be good to others; try to not be afraid (or, if you really want to simplify it because nine words is too long: love).

You see, I understand that my friends and family love me. While they both express sadness that I’ll “burn in eternal damnation”, and with hope offer up every opportunity for me to jump over to their way of belief, I can only love them for it. They aren’t trying to disrespect me. They are expressing their love in the truest way they know: by trying to ensure that I’ll be with them in the eternal afterlife. How can I not love them for that? Honestly, would they try that hard if I wasn’t considered to matter in their lives?

So, why not just make things easy and go over to their belief? Because I can’t reconcile the fact that while the fundamental aspect of my belief and their belief is the same, they choose to embrace some aspects of expression that comes with organized faith groups that I find limiting. After all, if you are used to a gourmet buffet, why would you limit yourself to the soup station? Sure, you’ll still be nourished, but you’ll also miss out on the other available flavors.

And see, it’s not just a Christian thing with me. I feel that why with pagan traditions as well. Once you get all hierarchical and ritualized, you start limiting your choices that are on the menu. Yes, you still have love, but some of the spices go missing.

So I find myself in a bit of a pickle. I’m missing having a group I can talk with without some of the interfaith baggage that often comes along, but I also eschew groups because they tend to want to homogenize things. People believing their own ways, even if it’s all based on an easily stated and fundamental concept, becomes very messy to govern. After all, with groups bonded with common ideals, you get the sort of power that individuals can never secure on their own.

And that’s where I am. I have no solution. I have options, yes, but no answers. At least, not today.