Happy New Year

A lot has happened since the last entry here. I (Michael) completed the courses for the Clergy Training Program’s first circle, and am now eligible to apply for ordination, which I will be doing soon.

We did some decluttering a few weeks ago that required taking our altar down and relocating it. While it was down, we acquired some new statues; we reassembled it today, New Year’s Day, consecrating each item with water and incense smoke.

2015 promises to be an auspicious year. Restoring the sacred space in our home was a great way to begin.

Omega Point (Apollon rite)

I finally got a ritual done for Apollon. We had been trying to for a month and, for one reason or another, had not managed it. First, the weekend arrived faster than I could prepare. The next weekend was the healing weekend at CedarLight Grove. We tried the weekend after that but had one mishap after another until we called it off before finishing.

So today I got it done, and it went fine, but felt emotionally uninvolving. The omen reflected this, I think. I have the help of the gods on my path, but more warnings (these have been consistent) about how no harvest comes from a withered branch (omega), and nothing can be reaped that has not been sown.

I’ve applied for admission to the clergy training program, but it may be that I am moving a little too quickly. These same tiles have occurred in oracles a few times lately, and that seems to be the context for it.

I’m also beginning to think that the plan to honor each of the major Hellenic gods in turn in an arbitrary order is not the best way to meet the pantheon. I’m going to mull that one a bit. 

Further along the initiate path

I am now done with the fully academic courses in ADF’s Initiate Program. Those that remain require several months of practice, journaling and distilling essays from the journals.

I am finding the coursework really rewarding. General Bardic Studies I reawakened my interest in writing poetry, and it has also fed my devotional work as I’ve been writing poems for the gods in the course of getting to know them. I have written for Poseidon, Demeter and Athena, and Apollon is next on the list.

Poetry awakens an alternate language of a sort. My approach, as a tool for initiating a relationship, has been to find a personal connection between my own life and the god’s nature (my love of the sea for Poseidon, my interest in justice for Athena) and then developing a metrical poem that expresses that. The deities seem to appreciate the effort, if the omens are any indication. 

Historically, poetic forms have been an important aspect of every oral culture. Meter and rhyme make words more memorable, easier to pass along, easier to preserve across generations. Hymns and prayers are often in verse, so this practice is time-honored.

Poseidon, Do-Over

My plan to honor the Hellenic deities one at a time is underway. After good rituals offering to Zeus and Hera came a disastrous one to Poseidon.

I read up a bit on him and wrote a few words, making an offering of Nori (seaweed sheets used in sushi). The omens made it clear that the gods didn’t think much of the ritual and the effort I put into it; you can’t reap what you haven’t sown, was the gist. Even the suet block we put out for the birds (nature spirits) has gone untouched.

I was duly chagrined by this, but determined to redouble my effort. Rather than moving on to the next deity on the list, I approached Poseidon anew. I read more, including some original material from Homer as well as secondary sources. And I composed a poem, the first time ever that I’ve written an original bardic offering. (For now, I'm not going to share it, as it was an offering for him; I may in time.)

When it came time to draw the omen, I asked (as I had last week) the single question: Have we honored you well?

The first tile, Lamba, slipped out of my fingers, hit the altar and bounced to the left into the liquid offering bowl. Its meaning:

“The one passing on the left bodes well for everything.”

Next, Alpha:

“The god says you will do everything successfully.”

Finally, Sigma:

“Phoibos (Apollon) speaks plainly, ‘Stay, friend.’”

After that we drew three more, one for each of the three kindreds: Ancestors, nature spirits and gods. They also were positive, and for the gods I drew Psi, which is shaped like Poseidon’s trident and means “You have this righteous judgment from the gods.”

Overall, I take this to mean: Poseidon was pleased with the second effort, happily accepts our offerings, and the gods overall share this judgment.

The gods ask us to approach them as the powerful beings they are. They are not coming over to help us clean the garage, they attend our rites, if they do, to accept honor, worship and offerings. They are not buddies (though some, like Hermes, can become pretty chummy with time), and rightfully require some respect.

The experience reminded me of a principle I’ve long held to: It’s better to not do a ritual at all than to do it half-assed. The ritual I put together last week was fine from a ritual mechanics point of view, but lacked any sort of personal connection. I had no real reason to call Poseidon except that it was turn, and he had no reason to respond to the call. The second time, I found that personal connection and built the ritual around it. It made all the difference. 

Hail Poseidon! And thank you for the firm hand. 

So I'm out

On May 2, I came out. It was National Pagan Coming-Out Day (not a federal holiday), and I shared the graphic on my Facebook wall.

So, yeah.

I'm not sure how much of a step it was given that I have not been especially subtle about it for a couple of years. The only thing that has really kept me at all reserved is a relative who I expect will not understand and will feel sadness or even stress about it. (But also who has certainly figured it out and simply chosen not to pursue a conversation about it, which is fine with me.)

But, the time has come. I've been "exploring" for several years now, and delved deeply enough into study programs to be sure that this is my religious identity.

So, I'm out.

I digress

In my last post, which I know was too long ago, I said my personal practice has been faltering. "I have a hard time maintaining regular habits of piety and meditation, but I am eager to set about changing that," I wrote then.

I put a lot of thought into that reality, and as a result, I have shifted gears. Rather than moving directly into ADF clergy training, I'm going to undertake the Initiate Program first. It continues the academic study that I began with the clergy preliminary work, but it also requires steady and consistent devotional, divination and meditation/trance practice, with documentation. I believe I should deepen my own spiritual dimension before presuming to lead other, and I believe the IP will be instrumental in my doing that,  

Reflections upon finishing the latest phase

I have come a long way on my ADF journey. I made a false start in 2008, and after attending a ritual and reading a bit, I felt led to give the Christianity of my upbringing one last try. (Blame Rich Mullins). I had not been a practicing Christian in years, but that was my childhood religion, and even though I had essentially left it behind (a few times!), its echoes continued to reverberate. So I put pagan religion aside and found an Episcopal church nearby. (My own heritage is United Methodist, but I wanted something a bit different.)

The experience was not bad, but nowhere near as satisfying as I had thought it might be. Despite the eagerness with which I had started, even arranging to meet one of the priests for morning coffee and conversation, I was ready to call it done in just a few months. 

After Lynda moved in in 2011, we joined ADF together, and that was when it really started to click. I tackled the Dedicant program with enthusiasm and delved into study and practice. It's important to say, though, that I was not committed to the path. I took seriously the idea that the Dedicant Path is intended to help the beginner figure out whether paganism in general and ADF Druidry in particular, is the right place to be. I've heard some describe finding ADF, or another pagan path, as being like "coming home." For me it was more like walking around a strange town and trying to decide whether I liked it. I even left that town a time or two during the exploration. Those departures, though, were short-lived and, rather than looking around for something else, ADF was the only place I wanted to return to. When I had completed all of the Dedicant study and the time came to write and then swear the final dedicant's oath, it came easily. 

It is my will to walk the pagan way. By the gods and by the dead and by all the spirits. I swear to live by the virtues given by tradition, to strive to act mindfully to do good in all I do.  I swear to keep the feasts and observances of the Druid way, keeping the wheel of the year. I swear to seek the truth of the elder ways, to learn the lore and meaning of our ancestors' wisdom. I swear to cultivate the habits of piety, contemplation, prayer and study. 

I am certain that if I had not undertaken the study program, I would not have reached the point, at least not in the time that I did. The DP, for all its faults (and there are a few), is a a very well-crafted program for leading the student to both knowledge and experience. Those who take it as a serious opportunity to learn, rather than a requirement to check off, will be well-rewarded with a deeper understanding of why various aspects of the ritual and religion are there, what purpose they serve, and how far they can be stretched without losing their essential importance. As the DP also requires a regular mental discipline practice and rituals to mark the eight high days (at a minimum), the student comes away with a feel for what ADF practice is all about as well, a good base of experience from which to decide whether it suits. 

I have felt a call to clergy for most of my life. Twice I considered leaving my profession and attending seminary as a United Methodist, and came very close to actually doing so once. But it never felt quite right. Now I am pursuing ordination with ADF and have completed the preliminary coursework necessary to apply for admission to the First Circle. As I found with the DP, the curriculum is well-designed to increase the base already established. In the past eight months, from finishing the DP through finishing the six CTP Prelim courses, I think I've gained an even deeper understanding.  

Where I falter is regular practice, and it is here I will have to apply the most effort as a clergy student, or even just as a follower of this religion. I have a hard time maintaining regular habits of piety and meditation, but I am eager to set about changing that. 

On The Cusp

The Indo-European Mythology I course took a good bit longer than I expected, mainly because of time needed to look up good references for everything. But it is submitted for approval now. IE Myth is the final course in the preliminary clergy training program -- once it is approved I can apply for admission to the First Circle study and, once completed, I will be eligible for ordination.

This is really exciting to me. I have felt a call toward ministry for many years, even came close to going to seminary when I was still a United Methodist. ADF's program is rigorous, but a bit less all-consuming than a three-year master's program would be.

I need to put some thought into formulating a good explanation of the reasons for this desire, for the application. Whatever I finally come up with to say, though, I know that this feels like the path I need to be on.

Hearth and Heart

Back when I was first getting started with polytheism, I tried to build some affinity with the deities of the Irish pantheon, as I know I have some ancestral heritage there. As much as some of the gods appealed to me though, I didn't seem to appeal to them, and I never felt much responsiveness.

At Yule 2011 at CedarLight, we honored some of the Norse gods, and they seemed to be very "present." For quite a while after that, I made regular offerings to Odin/Woden at home, and read up on both Asatru and Anglo-Saxon Heathenry.

This Spring, though, the Greek gods caught my attention, Hermes in particular, and after a couple of dramatic answers to requests, I began to call him my patron god. The Hellenic culture appeals to me intellectually, as much of their original pre-Christian mythology and philosophy has survived through the centuries.

But then the weather turned cooler and it was as if Odin returned from travels and knocked on my window again, much like Gandalf, and now the deities and culture of the northlands are again top of mind.

All of this fluctuation, coupled with some of my initial study on ADF's clergy preliminary program, has led me to the conviction that ADF's notion of "hearth culture" should be only a starting point. In the reality of history, the cultures of Europe mingled and mixed and migrated, and gods were worshiped far from the lands where they originally appeared.

I've been thinking that perhaps there is some value in a pan-Indo-European hearth. In practice, most of the ADF members I know do not limit themselves to a single hearth culture, but choose – or are chosen by – those deities that they find affinity for. Nothing in ADF discourages this, but the hearth culture paradigm as presented in the Dedicant Manual might leave the impression that our ancestors lived in isolated bubbles, either Norse or Roman or Gaulish for example, when the reality was much more dynamic.

So, to extrapolate from history, the various IE cultures encountered each other and shared their ideas and religion fairly broadly until conversion eventually overtook the land. Had that not happened, it stands to reason that the process would have continued to the point that rather than a set of distinct pantheons, the gods of all the lands would be known more universally and available to all. While it seems likely that a Norseman would still be more inclined to make offerings to Thor or Freyr than to Ares or Lugh, a person with a mixed ancestry – as is true of most 21^st Century Americans – might not have the same strong ties.

What I am thinking toward, and the work is far from done, is to simply articulate in theory what is already frequently the case in practice. I will post more as my thinking develops.

Sorry for the Silence

The last entry here is six weeks old, which I know is not  a good practice. My religious practice in general has been scattered lately. Between a freelance project that's consumed a lot of my after-hours time and planning a wedding, my time has been committed and my thoughts have been scattered. In addition to not updating here, I've been neglecting the gods and spirits; my devotional practice has become perfunctory and sporadic, my meditation practice vanished altogether.

It's time to change that. It's also time to start learning how to let life expand without squeezing religion to the margins.

Using the Gods

I make a nuisance of myself on some ADF lists by objecting to the ways some people talk about the gods. Specifically, it makes my skin crawl when someone refers to “using” the gods, as in, “We used Hecate as the gatekeeper at Midsummer.”

“Use,” you see, is a non-personal word. It's what you do with objects, and in contexts where it does apply to people, it's when you're treating people like objects. (“She never really loved me, she was just using me.”)

And so it is with the gods. I can't read anyone's mind, but I don't really understand how one can think of the gods as actual gods and then casually speak of how we may “use” them. It is language of utility, not reverence.

ADF embraces a variety of theologies; there are people who see the gods as symbols of nature or embodiments of human archetypes, and for them, maybe such language is natural. But it hits me all kinds of wrong. I've written about this topic before, though it has been a while. It bears repeating.

Practice

Lately, my day feels like something's missing if I don't have at least a brief ritual during it.

The most common thing I do is a small offering to Hermes. I have a shrine for him on a small wall shelf, which holds a candle, cone incense burner, a "Mercury-head" dime (it's actually Lady Liberty, but often assumed to be Mercury/Hermes, and seemed a suitable devotional object), and an image which I made by copying the Magician card in the Alchemical Tarot and mod-podging it onto a small wooden plaque (Lynda's suggestion, and a good one.)

For my usual devotion, I come to the shrine first thing in the morning, light the candle and recite (read) a prayer to him. Then I light a cone of frankincense and thank him for his favor. Sometimes I have a specific request to add, sometimes not.

I don't do this every day, but I miss it on the days when I don't.

On Wednesdays I often honor Woden, who was the first of the Shining Ones whose presence I felt in a way that seemed like more than wishful thinking. I do this at the main altar, with beer into a horn as a main offering. This too is something I'm being inconsistent about, though.

Once a month I have a "retreat day," which is part of ADF's recommended Dedicant Discipline for maintaining your practices after completing the DP. I'm blending it with the calendar of monthly libations at Hellenion to honor the Olympians at least one time each during the year. That involves a full core-order ritual honoring all of the Kindreds.

But we are dawdling on establishing the ancestor shrine we've discussed, and my offerings to the spirits of nature are sporadic. I have come a long way as a polytheist, as an ADF Druid, but there is clearly a ways to go yet.

The Firehose (Drinking From It)

As May winds down, I'm looking ahead to what is likely to be a very busy summer. I have begun the preliminary coursework for ADF's clergy program, and wedding planning is underway, but I also have two possible side projects that, if they both come to pass, will take up a tremendous amount of time.

I credit Hermes with bringing those about, and they are going to very good things (though I feel it right to keep the details to myself for now), but they may require me to back-burner the clergy training for a little while. The wedding and my day job have to take first priority, and one of the two side projects will have deadlines attached.

I've spent the past couple of weeks adjusting to being done with the DP (it was approved on May 15, just a few days after I submitted it) and reflecting on how my spiritual life within ADF in particular, and as a pagan in general, has progressed so far. It has been a long road to here, with a few setbacks along the way, and finishing the DP is in some ways just a matter of completing documentation, and yet at the same time it feels like a real milestone. Ending the work with the Dedicant Oath is what makes the difference, I think. It represents a real decision point -- that yes, this is my path and I am publicly committed to it, it's no longer just an idea I'm exploring.

OK, enough about me. What about those crazy kids who think that Superman and Odin are the same kind of thing and equally worthy of worship?

Reflections on the Dedicant Program

Completing the Dedicant Path study was a true milestone. I performed the Dedicant Oath ritual that I had written, taking nearly an hour, with Lynda helping out on the meditation and the omen. I had written a good part of the essay ahead of time, because it concerned the preparation I'd done and didn't need to wait. After I was done, I revised it and added the material about how the actual ritual had gone. Then I gave the whole document one more quick read-through and final tweaking, and submitted it.

(You can read the full submission here.)

Religion and I have always been uneasy companions. On the one hand, I am fascinated by it and strongly drawn to it; on the other hand, I have a sharp skeptical streak and a resistance to being expected to conform.

Like most Americans, my religious upbringing was Christian. I drifted out of it in my late teens and 20s – the time when my parents decided they had done all they could to instill it in me and that it was time for me to make my own choices – and into an agnostic humanism. I was still curious about religion though, just thinking I had not found the right one for me. At some point in my teens, the claims of Christianity to hold the exclusive truth started to be troubling – mainly because it seemed inexplicable that God would trust the one true faith to a single tribe of nomads and let it develop and evolve over more than 2,000 years within that tribe before going global. (And hell. Hell is hard to swallow.)

So I visited a group of Baha'i, took advantage of my job as a newspaper reporter intern to interview Reform Jews and Mennonites. I read about Buddhism and other Eastern traditions. All of it was interesting, none of it felt right for me.

In my late 20s, following my father's death by a year or so, I went back to the Methodist Church. I stayed back in for a few years, but for a variety of reasons, bounced out again. Then came years of having no particular religion again. Then I found ADF in 2008, then let my membership lapse while I tried the Episcopal Church and then … ADF again in 2011. But even then, working on the DP, I had moments of wondering whether I was on the right path.

During that time, after the Episcopals and before my return to ADF, I became involved with the Unitarian Universalists, becoming a member of a nearby congregation. UU provides a really supportive environment for practicing religious principles while remaining uncommitted to particular religious beliefs. It's good for seekers, in its own right as its own religious tradition, and also as a component of a larger search for truth and meaning. I am still in that as well.

I'm not sure I can explain all the fluctuation, except that the faith of my youth has had a surprisingly strong hold on me. It is surprising because I grew up in a fairly liberal United Methodist congregation, and had my doubts about it from an early point. The stereotype is that some strands of Christianity, the Roman Catholics in particular, indoctrinate their youth so fully and completely that they will never shake Catholicism as long as they live, no matter how hard they rebel or how far they run. The UMC does not do that – church for me was an hour a week, and for some of my youth another two hours at youth group on Wednesday nights, but the youth group was more social than religious.

Yet even with that comparatively minor amount of indoctrination, Christianity has always had a hold. So you can imagine that making an oath pledging loyalty to the gods and goddesses was no minor thing.

And that is where the Dedicant Program shows its strength. When I started it, more than a year and a half ago, I assumed it would be mostly rote. Read a book, write a report, check. Think about a virtue or a high day, write a couple hundred words on it, check.

It turned out to so not be like that.

Maybe it is for some people, I don't know. Certainly it would be possible to go through the motions, apart from the mental discipline requirement, and create a submission that will pass muster. But it was not like that for me. The DP, and my awareness that the endpoint would be either this oath or leaving it unfinished if I could not make that oath in good conscience, compelled me to put serious thought into what my religious path should be. I read well beyond the requirements, and tried to be diligent about seeking the gods to find whether they were there and beneficent.

I did not try to rush through to finish in a year, the minimum time possible. Instead, I worked on it a bit at a time, trying to really think through the issues being raised. I considered the virtues from various points of view. I tried to research the high days across multiple cultures. I wrote my essay on the kindred closer to the end of the process than the beginning so that I could speak from some experience.

At the end, I found that I was completely comfortable taking the oath and meaning it. I am hopeful that my submission will pass, but if it does get kicked back with a request to take another try at one or more of the requirements, I will do that without complaint. My one piece of advice to anyone else on the dedicant path is: take it seriously.

I think it is one of those things where what you get out of it depends on what you put into it. If you respect it and approach it as a growth opportunity rather than a chore, you will be rewarded.  

Submitted

I'll probably have something more reflective to say later, but for now: My material is submitted.

You can read it, as submitted, here.

Past and Present

As I near the completion of the ADF Dedicant Program, at age 49, I sometimes look around at my grove-mates in their 20s and 30s -- a time of my life when I was either apathetic or back in the Methodist church -- and envy them that they found this path so much earlier in life than I did and will have that much more time to explore and grow within it..

This post by Teo Bishop reminds me not to devalue my own experiences. Leaving the Methodists in my late teens, returning in my early 30s, leaving again after a marital breakup, finding ADF, putting it aside for a brief try-out of the Episcopal Church, then finally, less than two years ago, starting the path that's led me here. It's all a frantic and fantastic story of confusion and indecision, but for better or worse it has shaped me.

At the same time, though, there are moments when I really wish I had been able to settle into a spiritual path early on and grow within it. I would have some very deep roots by now, and a degree of experience and maturity in the faith commensurate with my age, rather than being, as this blog's subtitle says, a middle-aged beginner. 

I've been musing lately on past lives and whether we reincarnate to learn lessons. Maybe in a past incarnation I was one of those lifelong settled religious folk and I need to learn in this one what it's like to be a dabbler driven by doubt and indecision. 

In any event ... I'm here now. 

Nearing the End of the Beginning

I think  I am almost done with the writing on my Dedicant work. I've been back over the 14,000+ words I've written several times now, smoothing them out. I've also added some research and references in a couple of sections -- not required for the DP but helpful to move on to more advanced study.

All that remains is performing the Dedicant Oath. I've written it, and plan to do it this coming weekend. Then I'll write the essay pertaining to that, and off it goes to a reviewer. I will post it all here, too, on its own page.

It's going to feel a little strange not working on the DP,  but I expect it won't be long before I have other things to work on.

Finding the Gods

It's fair to say that many, and maybe most, polytheists have one or two deities they consider their special patrons. These are gods who we believe have sought us out, or responded well to our seeking them, to whom we give frequent devotions and offerings, and from whom we expect more regular attention and favor than the other gods we may honor now and then.

Before any of that happened to me, when I was new to polytheism and still trying it on, I approached the gods of the British Isles, especially Ireland. I can't actually trace any of my family tree back to Europe, but based on family names, England and Ireland are good guesses. But I did not feel any particular interest from those gods at the time.

A little while later – just last year, really – I began to intuit that Odin/Woden was trying to get my attention. I had felt his presence at CedarLight's Yule ritual in 2011, and then I began to notice crows or ravens (I'm still not sure I can tell the difference). I am sure crows and/or ravens are always around, but it's the noticing of them that makes them omens.

Anyway, after a period of hesitation (Woden is not necessarily a comforting presence), I began to make offerings to him. Some months down the road now, I can call him a patron, although I still one whom I prefer to interact with only occasionally. I get the impression that this suits him just fine.

More recently, another god has come into my consciousness – Hermes, the Hellenic messenger of the gods, fleet-footed and quick-witted. That began with a book coming to my attention, “The Gods of Reason” by Timothy Jay Alexander, which turned my attention in general to the hearth cultures I'd never given a second look to before, Greek and Roman. The more I read and contemplated, the more the Greeks began to appeal. I started making offerings to Hermes because I had a specific request that he seemed to be the right one for, but I quickly found myself liking his energy and presence. Now I'm giving him a brief morning devotional and incense almost daily, just because I want him to be welcome and stick around.

As I near the end of Dedicant Program, I find that the year and a half of study it has entailed – much required, some on my own – has really changed my outlook. At the beginning, I was approaching the gods tentatively and with very little understanding of what was going on and without even any confidence that polytheism made any sense. Now it just seems to be a given.

I find that the Celtic deities still do hold some appeal, especially as I spend more time with my grovies who are more immersed in that culture than I am. And I would like to expand my interactions with the gods of Olympus as well. Among the gods and the hearth cultures, even when confining myself to ADF's Indo-European focus, I find elements that appeal to reason and logic (the Greeks with their history of rich philosophy, in particular) and elements that appeal to primal energies and earthiness. It's a good mix.  

Quick of Wit

A good reading today, following an offering of incense and watered wine to Hermes. I've asked for some help with money, a windfall (which he is known to sometimes offer). The cards suggest he has something else in mind.

What do you need from me? The Magician. The Magician, in both of the decks I'm using right now, directly embodies Hermes. He needs from me to acknowledge him and to recognize that I am already in possession of the skills I need to succeed.

What do you offer to me? The Knight of Cups. This can have a couple of different meanings, but in this case I take it as an offer from him of relationship.

What else do I need to know? Three of wands. This suggests that the groundwork has been laid for a project that will be important but also that a lot of hard work is still ahead. This related directly to a conversation I had this morning, which I can't say much about right now but that could lead to something big.

I think I have here had a direct offer of a patron relationship, and a gentle declining to hand me some money but an offer to provide help and inspiration as I pursue a creative endeavor that could eventually pay off.

When You Come to a Fork in the Road, Take It

For the past year-plus, I've been following the Anglo-Saxon hearth, settling on that as my preference over Norse for a few reasons, not least of which is that my ancestry is much more likely to trace back to  England than to Scandanavia. (And because Woden the weary wisdom-seeker appeals to me more than Odin the battle-king.)

One of the beautiful things about ADF is that one does not need to limit oneself to a single pantheon. But it does simplify things to do so.

Which is why I'm surprised to find myself moving toward a dual hearth now. A few weeks ago, some force of the universe – the will of the gods and/or the Amazon recommendations algorithm – pointed me to a book called “The Gods of Reason,” by Timothy Jay Alexander. Subtitled “An Authentic Theology for Modern Hellenismos,” the description further says, “Within this introduction to Hellenic theology, written by the foremost author on modern Hellenismos, you will find a modern theology sourced and adapted from the history, culture, traditions, thought, and ethics of ancient Greece. “

I have been interested in theological thought for decades, and it's hard to come by in modern pagan circles. As a religion that is so much about shared practice rather than shared belief, it's easy to find a book that covers how to conduct rituals and what makes a suitable offering for a given god or spirit. It's not so easy to find one that talks about WHY we should do ritual in a certain way, or what is going on, in the spiritual realm, when we make offerings. Or why we believe there are entities who exist and to whom we should make offerings at all.

So after a few days of consideration and reading through the parts of the book available for preview, I decided that it looked like the theological principles Alexander was talking about need not be limited, that if they applied to the Greeks they would apply to any of the hearths encompassed in ADF. So I bought and read it, and discovered two things:

First, I was right that it was broadly applicable, and on that level I recommend it to any serious polytheist, ADF member or not. Whether you honor the Norse gods, or the Irish or the Gaulish or any other European culture's pantheon, this book will provide some anchors for your faith.

Secondly, the Greeks are fascinating. I had passed over them, and the Romans too, when I was early on trying to figure out where my attempts to develop a hearth should begin, I think largely because they seemed too familiar. We all studied the Greek and Roman myths and history in high school. But while Alexander was unpacking aspects of Greek philosophy and its theological applications, he was also showing me the Greek gods in a new way. Unexpectedly piqued, I then bought “Kharis,” by Sarah Kate Istra Winter – a more general introduction to Hellenismos – and finished it just last night.

Meanwhile, I've added a daily prayer and incense offering to Hermes (every day but Wednesday, which belongs to Woden) to my morning devotional practice. I chose Hermes because I'm currently in a situation where I could use some added income, and he's the one to go to for that. He may or may not become a long-term patron, but he is my starting point with the Hellenic culture.