Back to the present
Hail unto Thee who art Ra in Thy rising, even unto Thee who art Ra in Thy strength, who travellest over the Heavens in Thy bark at the Uprising of the Sun. Tahuti standeth in His splendor at the prow, and Ra-Hoor abideth at the helm. Hail unto Thee from the Abodes of Night!
--Liber Resh vel Helios sub figura CC
This is how I usually start my mornings these days. It comes from a text that exhorts aspirants to the A∴A∴ to be ever mindful of the Great Work they have undertaken to perform, namely the attainment of the Stone of the Wise, the Summum Bonum, True Wisdom and Perfect Happiness. What could be better?
This morning after that prayer and my usual daily devotions, I responded to a challenge to return to a religious ceremony in my tradition of origin, which for me is Roman Catholicism, and to observe the ritual and my reactions to it. To really engage that work, I chose the parish around the corner from my house that I was intimately involved with before I gave up the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost for the Maiden, the Mother and the Crone. I went with two other Catholic apostates turned Pagan. It made for some fun catty commentary, not to mention a true sense of camaraderie. Picture me turning to them and saying, “Merry meet,” during the opening greeting and whispering, “I’m melting, melting, melting . . . ,” during the asperges. We were some naughty gay witches in church.
For me, being back at St. Ita was warm and familiar, like coming home after a long absence. I realized sitting in mass this morning that the Catholic mass has really informed my tastes in ritual. For me, the mass is simple, direct, concise, purposeful, fixed and consequently predictable. It was a refreshing departure from the Neo-Baroque drivel and purple prose to which I am too often subjected in Neopagan rituals. I recognized parishioners from my tenure there that ended years ago. This parish is very diverse and definitely isn’t the parish where I grew up: there was a Nigerian cantor, a Haitian lector, and a young and handsome Spanish-speaking deacon, all of whom regrettably could benefit from accent reduction practice. We were ten minutes into the homily before I realized that the deacon was talking about sheep and not a ship. The only celebrant I had no trouble understanding was the pastor, whose resonant South-Side Chicago accent was unmistakable. I saw two handsome men in their late 30’s sitting together, and I assumed they were gay. I saw a young twink with teased hair and knew he was. This is exactly as it was ten years ago. Some things never change.
Another less happy unchanging feature is that I am not fully welcome there. I never thought I would wax nostalgic for the “liberal” reign of John Paul II, but here we are. I know that if any of the gay men I mentioned above are too visible or too undeniably out, it will provoke a crisis of duty, if not conscience, for the shepherds of this parish. It’s why I left a decade or so ago.
Fortunately there was a baptism today. Yes, I said fortunately, despite the collective energetic sigh that arose from the congregation when it was announced. It gave me an opportunity to renew my baptismal vows. Or not. Mostly not, in fact. If you are unfamiliar with them, here they are, with my internal responses to them:
Q: Do you reject sin, so as to live in the freedom of God's Children?
My response: I do indeed reject the notion of sin as propagated by Christianity; yet, I do recognize that I can betray my own Will by not being true to it.
Q: Do you reject the glamour of evil, and refuse to be mastered by sin?
My response: Oooh, let’s think more about this “glamour of evil” thing. I certainly do live well within the confines of my own ethics, and sorting out my definition of sin and evil is infinitely more demanding and fallible than following the list of rules proposed by the likes of Benedict XVI.
Q: Do you reject Satan, father of sin and prince of darkness?
My response: Well, let’s consider the original concept of Satan in Judaism as a divine accuser who points out the evil inclinations of people and humankind generally. Honesty, I wish he’d show up in that function a little more often. I don’t think he was ever “the father of sin and prince of darkness” until he started to look like the Horned One and became a boogey man to scare converts with.
Q: Do you believe in God, the Father Almighty, Creator of Heaven and Earth?
My response: Well, I do believe in pre-gendered Divinity, whom I typically call, “God Herself.” I’m pretty sure that’s materially heretical.
Q: Do you believe in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord,
Who was Born of the Virgin Mary,
was crucified, died, and was buried,
rose from the dead,
and is now seated at the Right Hand of the Father?
My response: Well, I like Jesus. He ran around with 12 close friends working miracles; it sounds like a good coven to me. Here’s that god-born-of-the-goddess motif that I like. I think we are all the children of the Divine, so I’d probably get the branding iron for that.
Q: Do you believe in the Holy Spirit, the Holy Catholic Church, the Communion of Saints,
the Forgiveness of sins, the Resurrection of the body, and Life everlasting?
My response: Holy Catholic Church? Hell no. I’m not sold on the idea of “sin,” although I do think all my actions have results that ultimately return to me. That said, I probably do not believe in the forgiveness of something I am not sure exists, much less any divine exculpation from the results of my misdeeds. Curiously I do believe in the Holy Spirit as the Fifth Element, that my body will return to the Earth and assuredly be resurrected as part of the biosphere, and that my triple soul is indeed divine and everlasting. That was almost a yes, wasn’t it?
Looking at my responses, I am convinced and reassured that Catholicism was not the correct spiritual path for my Summum Bonum, warm feelings of homecoming and nostalgia notwithstanding. Still, knowing who I am not is as essential as knowing who I am.
At the same time, mass was very informative, providing me with lots of information and a touching culminating event that attests to the congruence of my spiritual path. St. Ita’s Spanish-speaking population is predominantly Cuban and Cuban-American, and where there are Cubans, there is Nuestra Señora de la Caridad del Cobre, which is the Catholic disguise of the African diasporic goddess, Oshún, who has recently made Herself known to me and who enjoys a yellow altar in my east window. I could not possibly pass by Her shrine at St. Ita without lighting a candle in gratitude for favors past, present and future.