The Way of Sacred Rite

“Each candle I light is a message to the Gods. I am the short-lived flickering flame which nonetheless burns bright for them. The incense is my words and thoughts, carried upward to them. The bowl of water that I fill is my heart, or at least what I hope my heart will grow into – open, cool, welcoming. The stones that I drop into it are my hopes and dreams, weighing me down but giving me an anchor. The salt is the life that rolls over me, leaving a taste in my mouth that I can decide to like or not. Each motion must be done deliberately, with mindfulness, which slows me down, and that’s good. After the hundredth time the ritual is as familiar as a comfortable pair of shoes, one that you can walk a long way in.”

– Solana Pattrell, Wiccan

I start with this path out of homage to the Wiccan Revival, which arguably started the wave of modern Paganism back in the 1960s and 1970s. Professor Cannon’s short description of the Way of Sacred Rite is:

Participation in the sacred archetypal patterns through which Ultimate Reality (Cannon’s nondenomational term for God-or-what-have-you) is manifested, by means of symbolic ritual enactments or presentations that enable participants repeatedly to enter their presence, attain at-onement for the moment with them, and thereby establish and renew their sense of meaningful order, identity, and propriety. It is typically communal rather than individual.

(Note: All direct quotes from Six Ways of Being Religious are in bold type.)

I remember reading, long ago in my early days when I identified as Wiccan, an essay by a Wiccan priest that stated, “This is a religion based not around what we believe, but what we do.” The importance of ceremony in traditional Wicca as well as some other Pagan traditions cannot be underestimated. In Wicca, at least, some of this emphasis can be laid at the doorstep of Gerald Gardner, who was heavily involved in early-20th-century ceremonial magic groups before developing Wicca as a spiritual practice and religion. Ceremony is the way that many Pagan groups do religion, and it is also the “container” around many of their practices, such as religious magic-workings, energy-raising, and communion with the Gods.

The Way of Sacred Rite has the advantage of being able to take a number of people into a state of spiritual connection together, perhaps more so than any other path, but those people must all be deeply familiar with the same symbol-set on an emotional as well as an intellectual level. Part of the emphasis on “training” in many Wiccan groups is a way to inculcate that symbol system, but of course the best way to learn a ritual symbol system is to repeatedly expose one’s self to it during the course of a ritual itself, until the symbols become associated with the feeling of spiritual connection. The stumbling block for this, of course, is that the symbols may not mean much in the beginning, and thus may invoke more confusion than connection. Unless some aspect of the symbol system catches their imaginations immediately, they may become impatient waiting for the sense of connection and leave before they have absorbed enough of the symbols to attain it.

At the same time, modern Paganism is a minority faith, and there may be limited options for seekers to find a group, especially in areas of thin population or where there is a great deal of religious bigotry. Many Pagans have had to resign themselves to solitary practice, with the occasional expensive trip to another area of the country to visit a Pagan festival or conference. In the early days of Wicca, one of the tenets was “Thou shalt not be a Witch alone.” The reasons for this tenet have been argued and hashed over for decades, but one aspect may be the intuitive understanding that the prime divine connection-path for Wicca was one of Sacred Rite, and specifically rites that were designed for small groups (the traditional coven in the days of religious persecution was no more than 13 people, about what will fit in someone’s living room or basement) and required group participation and energy in order to “do the trick”. When Scott Cunningham came out with his book Wicca for the Solitary Practitioner, it raised a cloud of dissident opinions around the original tenet (which has now almost entirely been scrapped and remains an artifact of a more dangerous era).

In addition, Pagan groups who seek to reconstruct the worship of specific ancient cultural traditions – Greek, Egyptian, Norse, etc. – may lean heavily on the Way of Sacred Rite because the original theology is incomplete or never written down, but some descriptions of the rituals remain. The concept arises that if a group of people go repeatedly through the motions of an ancestral rite, deeper meanings and connections will eventually open up for them and the wisdom of the ancients will be revealed. Even though some acknowledge that modern people can never fully understand the spiritual concepts of a long-ago people in whose culture they were not raised, many continue the old rituals as homage and gratitude to the ancestors who struggled to live that we might eventually do the same.

“What’s wonderful about the experience of Pagan group ritual when it’s done right? The answer is in the question: experience. The aim of group ritual is to feel the meaning of our relationship with our Gods, our spirits, and each other in a shared experience that transcends words. A well designed and well executed ritual creates something that is inexplicably more profound than just the description of what happened. A good ritual designer will carefully consider the people who will participate in the ritual, and create something that can reach all of them in some way, something that can communicate to everyone present. Each participant might have their own internal understanding of what that moment meant, but sharing it with others creates an undeniable connection. When the ritual ends, the connection may remain only in the memory of the experience, but that too is a powerful bond. These shared experiences are validating and fortifying. They can help us build the courage we need in order to hear and answer when the Gods call on us, and they can comfort us during those dark nights of the soul when Spirit seems impossibly far away.”

– Thista Minai, Hellenic and Wiccan

(Note: For each of the Six Ways of Being Religious, Dale Cannon lists key ways that they can be performed skillfully or unskillfully. Thus, for each path, we will be exploring competence, incompetence and the shadow side of competence; the balance of finitude and infinitude; and the balance of selflessness and egoism.)

Competence

Sensible to archetypal form; possesses a developed aesthetic sense; graceful and decorous; keenly sensitive to timing, master of the art of participating in sacred ritual; master of ritual detail and the art of choreographing ritual action; thoroughly acquainted with and possesses a lively sense of and an ability to enter into and interpret the basic stories and symbols of the tradition.

The art of creating moving ritual is an art form on which the spiritual connection of many people depends. The ironic joke in modern Paganism is that if you were raised in a religious group where people safely went through the motions again and again without actually bringing down any divine presence, your youthful exposure to this over time “inoculates” you against actually connecting to the Divine through that ceremonial structure and symbol-set. Many who are so “inoculated” will reject religion entirely, thinking that all contexts will be equally empty for them. Others seek to reform their tradition of birth by bringing in elements from other symbol-sets, and still others become seekers, moving to other faiths to whom they have not been “inoculated”. Some of these seekers find what they are looking for and stay happily in the tradition of their conversion; others move randomly from place to place, not realizing that they are mistaking novelty for connection, and not staying around long enough to actually internalize the symbol-set and go deeper into the ritual context before the novelty wears off.

Each of these paths utilizes a specific part of human experience or activity as its tool, and that tool is slowly purified and reshaped by contact with the Divine. In the case of the Way of Sacred Rite, when I asked many avid practitioners what part of them this might be, I repeatedly heard “Intuition!” Through exposing one’s senses to the ritual form again and again, one’s intuition is sharpened and perfected. When the ritualist is moving through a ceremony correctly, with their senses open to the experience of the Divine, they can develop a “sixth sense” about when to do a certain action or pay attention to a certain sensory cue. This sense will eventually also apply to the rest of their lives, helping them to intuitively “know” where to turn and what to pay attention to.

Incompetence

Insensible to archetypal form; lacking a developed aesthetic sense; uncognizant of religious kitsch (religious art that manifests no genuine aesthetic sensibility); ignorant of basic stories and symbols of the tradition, lacking a lively sense of them, or unable to enter into and interpret them to others; ignorant of ritual proprieties; awkward, uncertain, or fumbling in ritual performance; prone to ritual mistakes and improprieties.

Was the ceremony conducted in a boring drone? Were major items forgotten and thus major parts had to be dropped? Did someone step in the plate of offerings or drop the sword on the floor with a clatter? Did the leader stop in the middle of the ceremony to ask for donations of money? Were the names of deities mispronounced by poorly trained volunteers? Was the singing or chanting lackluster and out of key? Were participants hurried through activities with no time for mindfulness or reflection? Were stories garbled, or were there parts of the ritual that made reference to stories that no one had been taught, and thus were lost on them? Were words of power and imagery so poorly chosen with regard to the audience’s level of understanding that most were left in the dark? Were participants urged and pressured into doing activities that were uncomfortable for them, such as loud singing or wild dancing? Were people with disabilities left out of major parts of the ceremony? Was a ritual meant for a dozen people stretched inappropriately for a group of fifty, resulting in people spending most of the ritual standing around and waiting while the priestess does a personal activity with each one? I’ve seen every one of these mistakes in Pagan ceremonies, and been responsible for a few of them myself. I’m painfully aware that although you can’t please everyone, if a sizeable number of your participants are thinking, through any part of at ritual, “When is this going to be over?” there is some species of failure going on for all sides. I’m also aware that the best ceremonies involved both at least one leader and at least a few participants who had not only attained the competencies listed above, but who genuinely loved the way of sacred rite and used it as one of their spiritual mainstays.

“Newer ritualists tend to underestimate logistics. Do you have a bottle opener ready for that libation you want to pour? Will the police come herd you out of the park if the ritual runs after dark? If you want people to hold candles during the first part and clap a rhythm to raise power during the second part, where are they going to put their candles when it’s time to clap? Missing these sorts of details can derail the flow of a ritual, detracting from the sense of visceral presence necessary to create that profound timeless moment. Certainly even the most experienced ritualists miss a detail every now and then, but they tend to miss fewer of them, and do a better job of adapting when they come up. Being able to maintain the energy of a ritual despite interruptions or complications is an important skill learned with lots of practice.

More experienced ritualists tend to forget just how diverse Pagans are. It helps to think of ritual as a type of language. We use various actions and symbols to communicate something to each other and to our Gods. That communication only works if we have a shared understanding of what those actions and symbols mean. I think this tends to be more of a problem with experienced ritualists because we become accustomed to working within our own communities, and develop an intuitive sense of what people like or dislike, what they understand or find confusing, what moves them and what sets them on edge. Then when we have to conduct ritual in a different setting, we assume that what has been so successful for us thus far would be successful anywhere else, but that’s a little like trying to speak only English in rural Japan: some people might understand you, but most won’t, and at least a few will be annoyed that you didn’t even try to learn a few of their words. Sometimes ritual designers try to cope with this by including liturgy that explains what’s happening. That’s definitely a step in the right direction, but it’s a clunky solution. A good novel uses some narration to explain the plot, but spends more time showing the story to the reader through the actions of the characters. The same applies to ritual – we need to strike a balance between word and action. We don’t want people stuck in their analytical minds trying to parse through all the text you dumped on them, but we want to create enough common understanding in each of our actions that the experience can be shared. Sometimes the performance of an action can contain its own explanation, rendering words entirely unnecessary, but that still requires an understanding of what that performance will communicate to the people in that ritual. In education, teachers must assess the prior knowledge of their students before they begin designing a lesson – you can’t effectively teach something new if you don’t know what they already know. An excellent ritual designer will consider the prior knowledge of their participants, and create an experience with enough words to establish meaning, but not so many that they detract from engagement in action.”

-Thista Minai, Hellenic and Wiccan.

Shadow Side of Competence

(Note: This is not the same as incompetence, which is listed above. It is when a person who is otherwise competent in their chosen path becomes blinded to any other options than that path, not only for themselves but for anyone else in the world.)

Ready to treat all problems as calling for resolution through participation in sacred ritual; tends to overstructure activities and events; overly conservative.

The Way of Sacred Rite doesn’t work for everyone, and it doesn’t work for anyone all the time. That’s really all we have to say about that.

Balance of Finitude and Infinitude

(Note: These words are Professor Cannon’s chosen terminology for the balance of the practical details with the numinous energy we are opening to experience.)

Possessed of profound awe and reverence in the presence of the sacred as archetypal form while realistically appreciating the finite conditions of its lively mediation; freshly sensible to archetypal patterns as transcendent to, though disclosed through, finite and familiar symbolic forms; reappropriates timeworn forms with freshness and creative imagination; sensible to what is important and what is not; composed in the face of small crises that occasionally occur in the midst of sacred ritual.  

Both skilled ceremony leaders and skilled ceremony participants understand that the experience must be a balance between mindfulness around details and opening one’s self to the ritual. The participant needs to aware as to where they are supposed to move, what they are supposed to say, and that the candle they are carrying needs to stay a certain distance away from the hair of the participant moving in front of them. This is even more difficult for the ceremony leader, who may be mentally organizing hundreds of details – are the candles lit? What’s the next prayer or invocation? Who is supposed to speak next and how do I cue them subtly if they forget? Did someone remember the corkscrew? Someone is talking – how do I hush them without drawing too much attention to it? This bowl of water is awfully heavy – I’d better concentrate so as not to drop it. And so on. The problem comes when all these details leave participants – or, more commonly, ceremony leaders – unable to achieve the state of connection that they hoped to gain in the first place. In fact, this problem is one of the major contributors to ritual leader burnout. There are a number of ways to counteract this, but it needs to be acknowledged as a common obstacle of this path before it can be brainstormed for solutions.

“I had to stop being the high priest because I realized that I wasn’t getting anything out of ritual anymore. I was too busy focusing on giving everyone their experience and making sure that everything went smoothly. I love service, and it’s very spiritual for me, but then I went to a really well-run ritual by a group in another state and I realized how much I missed just falling into the flow and not worrying about anyone else. I almost cried, it was such a relief. So I went home and told my people that I was taking a temporary retirement. They became distraught, because they’d been depending on me to run all the rituals, but after a few weeks of distress they pulled together and two of them stepped up. It’s been almost two years and I have not picked up the reins again, and I’m glad. Ironically, the first couple of rituals, it was hard for me to step back and not point out all the details they forgot that I wouldn’t have, all the ways in which they were awkward. It took half a year for me to be able to relax, but it’s been worth it.”

– Shel Scrivener, Arizona Pagan.

“We go around and around, in our Pagan group, about how new and frequently-changing the rituals have to be. Some people get bored if more than ten percent of the rite is always the same formula. They want to be stimulated and made to think, and they love – and are always calling for – new ritual themes. Some people are comforted by the same old thing over and over again, with only a few token changes for seasonal differences. They feel that having an unchanging ritual tradition binds us to the ancestors, whom they believe did the same thing. We compromise in a variety of ways. Three of our ten yearly rites are done the same way every time, every year. Three have different opening sections every year but the second half is always the same. Four are different each time. It’s not a perfect solution, but it seems to be a reasonable compromise.”

– Tory Miller, Wiccan covener.

Imbalance: Loss of Finitude

(Loss of a realistic understanding of the practical details of the path.)

Idolatrous toward ritual form and symbol, where secondary symbols are identified with sacred meaning as opposed to being its vehicle and mediator; absolutely closeminded to consideration of creative variations or alternative ritual forms.

Modern Paganism has a long history of arguing over whether a ritual should be done a certain way – usually the way that the author wrote it, perhaps only a few years ago and certainly not more than a few decades – or whether it can be changed at will, perhaps beyond recognition. We argue about whether our ritual symbol sets are too archaic. Some may find the symbolism of a sword of protection romantic while others argue for a gun because that’s what we actually use today, and it will have more gut-level meaning. Some may object to archaic language or ritual roles as oppressive to modern minds while others revel in inhabiting those words and roles to bring them closer to the ancient experience. How much can we change a ritual and still maintain its original meaning and connection? For those traditions which utilize ritual magic, there is the additional question of “How much can we change this ritual and still have it be effective for the purpose of the working?”

Groups that focus on reconstructing ancient rituals from primary historical sources may especially balk at adding modern constructions to the sacred rite. However, the undeniable fact is that we live now, and not only do we not live in the culture of our ancestors, many of their practices would seem completely unacceptable to us. Concepts have other symbols for us now, and sometimes it is more effective to tailor the ceremony to the modern minds participating in it than to keep the original word for word – “effective” referring not to how well the reconstructed ritual is performed, which is more in line for the Way of Sacred Scholarship, but to how well the ritual brings a group of people to connection with Spirit.

As Pagans, we often keep “idols” – statues of our Gods – on altars in our home and at our rituals, but the “idolatry” mentioned here is more akin to worshiping the activities of a certain rite to the point where they are more valued for their antiquity and tradition than for their efficacy in creating any state of consciousness. The parts of our more ritual-oriented traditions that have their roots in Western occult ceremonial magic are especially vulnerable to this kind of “idolatry”, as one of the tenets of some theories of ceremonial magic is that doing a series of actions to exacting standards is what creates the energy, rather than any intuitive guidance on the part of the magician. It’s a mechanical view that still pops up from time to time and encourages us to choose form (or results) over meaning.

Imbalance: Loss of Infinitude.

(Loss of a real connection to the Divine/Universe/All That Is, however you see that.)

Merely perfunctory or wooden in the execution of ritual; preoccupied with ritual detail or variation of ritual form at the expense of enabling participants’ access to the sacred archetypes; uncreative in repeating the same time-worn symbolic forms; insensible to the sacred in and through the symbols; lacking awe and reverence for the transcendent dimension of the sacred archetypal patterns; discomposed in the face of small crises in ritual detail.

This is where the mechanical pervades the rite to the point where the group practice becomes no better than the boring mumbling some of the convert members complain from about the religions of their upbringing. When people are just going through the motions, sometimes it’s better to stop everything and knock everyone out of their rut, or make hard choices about what does and does not move people any more. You’ll often find that as the window of divine connection slowly closes through boredom and redundancy, small things going wrong take on more and more significance, and there are more fights over petty details. Changing some large background piece can help breathe new life into a ritual – for example, the words that have grown stale when recited in the living room take on a new life and meaning when shouted over the waves while everyone is standing knee-deep in the ocean surf.

Selflessness

(Note: This is not suggesting we should always be selfless, but that there will be times on each path when we need to give of ourselves freely and generously.)

Sincerely involved in sacred worship for its own sake; ready to enter fully into collective ritual activity; open to being challenged and changed by participation in sacred ritual; humbly regards ritual status as service and as meriting no special recognition or advantage over others; ready to help the least participant to enter into sacred worship.

Ritual, when done in a way that connects one to the Gods, will challenge and change you. It brings up thoughts you didn’t know you could have, or that you didn’t want to think about. One devotee of Dionysos once said, “The only attitude with which to enter a sacred mystery is ‘I am ready to be torn apart.’” With this attitude, there is no place for playing at being special or standing in judgment over one’s fellow worshipers … but you can’t get there unless you are willing to open up and let the Mystery get to you.

“I love taking new coveners through initiation. Most of them have read the books – we aren’t a secret society in hiding any more – and they know what’s going to happen, and they’ve been studying for months at least. But even in the face of that, it’s my job to figure out how to make them feel like they are standing on a precipice, a pivotal moment of their lives. This can’t be just going through the motions. The experience has to make a mark on them, so that even if they leave our tradition eventually, they’ll never forget that pivotal moment. I love the look on their face afterwards if I got it right – that dazed, bright-eyed look of someone who has just held sacredness in their hands. I can tell them that I know exactly how they feel, because I was lucky enough to have people who could create that moment for me once.”

– Kestrel Davis, Wiccan high priestess.

Egoism

Making use of sacred rite, sacred symbols, or the prerogatives of ritual status to promote mundane interests, material advantage, or other egoistic interests whether at the individual or community level; unwilling to enter fully and sincerely into the collective ritual activity of the group and be challenged and changed by it.

“I’m the high priest/ess, I run all the rituals with an iron grip, and that means you should listen to my advice.”

“I’m the high priest/ess, and I always make sure that I have the starring role in every ritual. Buy my CDs!”

“I want that initiation (or title or status) so I’ll faithfully attend every ritual, but I quietly hold myself back from really getting into it. That way I can keep my dignity and look down on the ones who are really getting emotional about the whole thing.”

Resources for the Way of Sacred Rite