But what if I were to suggest that we are, as a whole, not literate at all?
In his book Lives on the Boundary, author and teacher Mike Rose suggests that true literacy goes far beyond the ability to read. Rather, 'literacy' is the ability to interpret, understand, and apply literature to your life. It is the ability to make sense of, read into, and learn applicable things from the written word. Do we do this with our own literature?
As a community we tend to value personal experience over theology, and to a point that's fine. Being a 'living religion' - changing rituals, experimenting with new liturgy, emphasizing 'what works now for me' keeps routine and dogmatic tradition from separating us from the Divine. Moreover, knowledge of what works must come through experimentation and experience. It can't always be gleaned from a book. But you can only teach yourself so much, come to so many conclusions on your own, before you hit a dead end. And, while using literature as sources for techniques, liturgy, and ritual format is a fine application, it will only take us so far.
The downside of emphasizing the now is the tendency to de-emphasize what came before: the rich history of poetry, song, and philosophy that is building up behind us as we move ahead. Our literature offers us a collection, not only of other people's experiences, but also of reactions, musings, and possible explanations of those experiences, a collection of the thoughts and lessons of those who traveled this path before us. Through academic study and critical analysis of our literature, we can enter into a discourse with those authors, comparing, contrasting and ultimately learning more than simple technique and ritual format, and more than we could each of us learn on our own.
How many of us treat our religion as if it has this academic merit, with a foundation of literary resources from which we can build our practices, philosophies, debates, and arguments? How many of us are truly literate in the canon of Wicca?
Starhawk states in The Spiral Dance that liturgy is a key that unlocks our inner self, our 'younger self, ' and that chant, song and poetry are the tools that allow the younger self to play. It is this play that unlocks our true energy, the magickal power of our subconscious that transforms reality without our direct awareness. It is for this reason that our liturgy, written mostly in poetry and applied in the form of song, chant, and the mystical play of ritual, is so powerful. On a deep psychological level, this perspective is truth. Yet, there is another method of analysis that both compliments and enhances Starhawk's theory. Critical reading shows us not only the way our literature affects us, but also how it accomplishes this effect. Why does a particular poem work within our community, when others do not? And what about it taps into the younger selfóthat deep well of cultural knowledge and symbolismóand causes emotion to overflow into powerful magick? What tools are the artists utilizing? What turns of phrase, metaphor, symbols, lyrical trills and trappings, are being tweaked and twisted, to affect us the way they do?
As Cunningham observed in Earth Power, 'Since the subconscious mind works through symbols, it is important to cultivate the ability to interpret these symbols, to decipher their meaning' (Power, 11). In this spirit, let's examine a poem, often sung in round, which even most solitary of practitioners will be familiar with.
'We all come from the Goddess
And to her we shall return
Like a drop of rain
Flowing to the ocean.'
It is a song most often used at times of change, when comfort or support is needed. Currently, most people 'read' it by memorizing, singing, and letting their voices and spirits swell with the beauty of it, applying it without understanding why it works.
Let's begin thinking about why it affects us so profoundly, and what lessons might be hidden in the text.
Why do you think the author wrote this poem? To comfort, to expound a philosophy, to teach us a lesson? What words make you think this, and why? Which philosophy, and which lesson, does this poem teach us? What is this poem about? Oneness? Wholeness? Does it imply a separation from the Divine, an imperfect state (rain) when we were originally part of the perfect whole (ocean)? Does it imply the promise that we shall return to that state of perfection? That smacks of a philosophy that most of us spring away fromóthe idea that God is a separate being, far away 'up there.' How does this relate to the Wiccan/Neo-Pagan ideal that God/dess is immanently manifest within the world and all parts of it? Why do you think that the author chose to challenge this belief?
Since the rain and the ocean are both water, does the poem imply that we are all made of the same stuff, the 'divine' substance? Why did the author choose rain, the ocean, and water? Would you sight Cunningham's take on water as the source of life and love (Earth, 30)? Would you tie in Starhawk's note that from water, associated with death, 'comes the courage to face our deepest feelings' (Starhawk, 77)? If we 'read' the poem while thinking of Zsuzsanna Budapest's link between water, the menstrual flow, and the divine nature of women, does it become and exclusively feminine poem about an exclusively Feminine Divine, accessible only to women? Why are we 'flowing, ' rather than 'trick'ling, ' 'running' or 'falling'? Does the word imply an additional connection to menstrual flow? To the ebb and flow of the seasons? To the moon-guided flow of the tides? What do you make of the connection between the ocean, flowing (tides), the moon, and the Goddess? Why do you think all of these have been, within our traditions, symbols of Her? And what does this poem teach us about our relationship to Her?
It is a simple chant, but it works because it had a complex soul. Add cultural and historical context, especially to older literature such as Gardnerian ritual and Valiente's poetry, and the possibilities compound. What did these authors originally mean to convey? What do they convey to us now? Why has the interpretation changed, and what does that say about our community's growth? How can we take what we learn, and use it to shape what we are growing to become?
As daring as the statement is, most of us don't take our religion seriously enough to give it genuine academic attention. How many of us know the true origins of Wicca? How many of us can name ten Pagan authors, poets, or leaders, and tell why they are noteworthy? How many of us know who wrote the liturgy we use every full moon? These are all part of our canon, so why don't we know? Are we afraid that study will take the power out of our liturgy, or invalidate our religion?
Maybe it is time to view our 'ancient provenance as an inspired legend rather than hard and fast history, ' as Charlotte Allen said. Perhaps doing so will free us from the shackles of dogmaóshackles that we are slipping on much too happilyóand inspire us to embrace and understand our unique system of symbolism, metaphor and allusion. All of this is part and parcel of being literate.
This then, is my charge unto you: seek, question and learn. While we weren't watching, language, mythology, symbolism, and history uniquely our own have been born within our fledgling culture. Consider theology, critical reading, historical research, and cross-cultural and inter-religious comparative studies. Through them, we can create a framework for interpretation, dialogue, and critique of our literature, and through all of this we may gain a deeper understanding of these young cultural births, what they make us, and what we want to become through them. It is about time we become literate in our culture, give it the intellectual attention that it has been struggling to earn, and in this way come to a deeper understanding of our own selves.
Bibliography
Allen, Charlotte. 'The Scholars and the Goddess.' The Atlantic Online Jan. 2001. www.theatlantic.com/issues/2001/01/allen.html.
Budapest, Zsuzsanna. The Holy Book of Women's Mysteries. Oakland: Wingbow Press, 1980.
Starhawk. The Spiral Dance: A Rebirth of the Ancient Religion of the Great Goddess. San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1979.
Cunningham, Scott. Earth Power: Techniques of Natural Magic. St. Lewis: Llewellyn Publishing, 1997.
Cunningham, Scott. Earth, Air, Fire, and Water: More Techniques of Natural Magic. St. Lewis: Llewellyn Publishing, 1998.
Rose, Mike. Lives on the Boundary. New York: Penguin Books Ltd., 1989.
The Club - Blackangel