Give Me That Old Time Religion?

[qos]

Disclaimer: This entry speaks somewhat strongly of my own spiritual orientation, one which is quite different from that of several friends here, friends whose faith I not only respect, but whose own meditations frequently inspire me. I fear that the tone of what follows may be more critical than I intended. If so, it arises from my sense of what is lacking for me in traditional faith paths; it's not a condemnation of those paths.


A recent internet search about Freyja led me to the fascinating website of Heidhrun Freyjasdottir*, a gydhia of Freyja. Heidhrun is very proud of her Heathen tradition, and in an essay titled "Call Us Heathen" she makes a strong statement of the differences she perceives between her tradition and those of Wicca and other Neo-Pagan paths:

Heathenry is a reconstructionist religion and folkway, based upon 20,000 years of archeaological evidence and surviving lore. It is neither invention or self-styled spiritualism, but a living tradition based upon historical fact.

This statement reminded me strikingly of the attitude of a good friend of mine who was raised Evangelical Christian, became an Episcopelian as an adult, and is now in the process of formally coverting to the Eastern Orthodox church. One of the primary reasons for his conversion is that he sees the Orthodox Church remaining consistent in theology and practice for centuries while other Christian sects are, in his opinion, changing too much with the times.

Setting aside for a moment the accuracy of either his or Heidhrun's claims for their traditions (I personally am neither qualified nor interested in judging them), this raises a significant point of distinction between them and me, namely: the relative importance of remaining as true as possible to the historical forms and theology of a spiritual tradition, or seeking to remain true to the foundational beliefs and principles while allowing practice, ethics, and theology to develop and evolve over time.

(Please understand, I'm not saying that traditional faiths don't evolve. It's a matter of degree of openness.)

As a scholar of religion, I have deep respect for those who diligently study the texts and artifacts of our ancestors and try to interpret them as honestly as possible. And I see nothing wrong in trying to re-create the ancient practices. But personally I don't want my spirituality to be confined to revelations and beliefs of hundreds or thousands of years ago. I want my spirituality to grapple meaningfully with the challenges and issues of modern life, not point to an ancient text and say "But it says here. . . ." and have that settle the issue. Not when I believe so many of the mores of any tradition have been conditioned by the circumstances of their times.

Do we not have the right to a spirituality that is grounded in and responsive to our own time, just as our forebears' was grounded in and responsive to their own?



Like Heidhrun, I worship and call on Freyja -- but if I believed it was important that I do so in strict accordance with the way my ancestors called on Her early in the first millenium, I wouldn't bother. In fact, the most important elements of my observances are not found in any saga or artifact I'm aware of. But I've felt Her presence and power nonetheless, and I am not going to give up those rites just because they are not historically based.

I'm not advocating throwing all of tradition out the window, nor depending entirely on subjective mystical experience. As a spiritual director, part of my role is to help people reflect on their private spiritual experiences and help them discern if they are truly tapping into the Divine or have gotten lost in vanity, depression, or delusion. One (not the only) standard is how what they've experienced fits with revelations which have been recorded and preserved through tradition.

The sifting of authentic revelation from the culturally relative (or personally expedient) is, in my opinion, a major issue in modern spirituality.

At the same time, it's clear that Heidhrun -- like my friend -- finds that her spiritual path speaks more than adequately to her modern life, and very likely brings something to it that she can't find elsewhere. Being a reconstructionist doesn't make her path less valid than mine, just not one that I care to tread.

I'm interested in the thoughts of this community. For those of you who are reconstructionists or place a high value on the stability and roots of your tradition, how do you balance historical fidelity and preservation with modern challenges? Where and how do you draw the line between what you keep and what you discard from the past?


* Heidhrun's website: http://www.freefolk.org/leaves.html

Comments

[thomryng.livejournal.com]

As you know, I'm quite a firm believer in the power of tradition to speak timeless truth. I hate to fall back on Chesterton, but it's almost unavoidable.

“Tradition means giving votes to the most obscure of all classes, our ancestors. It is the democracy of the dead. Tradition refuses to submit to the small and arrogant oligarchy of those who merely happen to be walking about.”

Now this is not to say that I don't buy Cardinal Newman's doctrine on the development of doctrine (say THAT tn times fast), because obviously the ways in which we discern truth change with our time and culture.

But truth stays truth.

What was true for our ancestors remains true for us. Yes, there may be new ways to explain and to explore, but isn't it better to begin with a point you know to be fixed?

I'll leave you with another Chesterton quote that in no way contradicts the first:

"The corruption in things is not only the best argument for being progressive; it is also the only argument against being conservative.... [A]ll conservatism is based upon the idea that if you leave things alone you leave them as they are. But you do not. If you leave a thing alone, you leave it in a torrent of change. If you leave a white post alone it will soon be a black post. If you particularly want it to be white you must always be painting it again; that is, you must always be having a revolution."

[qos.livejournal.com]

I was, of course, particularly interested in your response, Thom.

But who is the Church for if not for those who are "merely walking around" -- and those who will walk around after them? There is much to revere in our inheritance from the past, but the dead are frozen in time. So many aspects of our lives are literally inconceivable to them.

If I may be so bold as to compare the Constitution of the United States to a religious text: it both holds to a core of fundamental principles and remains open to being updated to include such advances the dead could not make themselves, such as freedom for slaves and votes for women.

Truth does stay the truth -- but not everything that is labeled truth is truth: The world is flat was a commonly believed "truth." Women being inherently inferior to men was once a "truth." The divine right of kings was once a "truth." The challenge I see in contemporary religious life is discerning eternal truths from contemporary perspective. And while I have my own biases, I acknowledge that it's not necessarily easy or straightforward to discern the difference in all cases, and that people of sincere goodwill can come to different conclusions.

I do like that second quote from Chesterton, and expect to employ it myself in the future.

[thomryng.livejournal.com]

You see, this is where our philosophies part company: you say "the dead are frozen in time", but I say they are eternal, and that's a very different kettle of fish indeed.

If you believe, as I do, that communion of saints is one of those truths we talk about, then it follows that the dead cannot be frozen, for in truth I ask them for their intercession every day, and in some mystical way, they convey my prayers to the altar of God.

That, I think, is the hinge around which the argument of tradition versus modernism turns: are the dead really dead and gone, are our ancestors really just dust, or are they something more?

Are they frozen into their on moment in time, or are they in fact eternal?

Everything else follows from the answer to that question.

By the way, both quotes above are from Chesteron's book Orthodoxy. If you haven't read it, I highly recommend it.

[qos.livejournal.com]

I too believe the dead are eternal and continue to be available to us as "something more", but clearly I missed your point in your initial example. This is probably due to my Protestant upbringing and consequent lack of understanding about how the saints participate in the ongoing life of the church.

What I thought you (and Chesterton) meant was that the writings of the church fathers, and their beliefs and attitudes, outweighed the concerns and opinions of the living -- and I do see those writings as voices frozen in time. Clearly you meant something different.

Would you be willing to elaborate a bit more on how this works out in daily practice and what it means to you? How does tradition honor and support the dead and meet the needs of the living? (If I'm even phrasing the question in a meaningful way.) I'm sincerely intrigued and curious.

It's ironic that I misunderstood this particular aspect of your response, since I'm doing Underworld work right now, in which the ongoing life of 'the dead' plays a big role.

[oakmouse]

Do we not have the right to a spirituality that is grounded in and responsive to our own time, just as our forebears' was grounded in and responsive to their own?

Thank you.

[seauleja.livejournal.com]

I think I would differentiate here between practice and belief (ugh...I just realized it may sound like I'm simply rehashing the faith vs. acts argument here, and I don't mean to. I'm not arguing which is more important, but which is more successfully bound to tradition). I would vote that the value of tradition lies more within practice than belief. Practice I would associate more with religion; belief with spirituality or faith. There is sacred and powerful significance in doing the same acts and rituals our ancestors did (and I would agree with Thom's description of the eternal nature of the dead). What our beliefs are don't really matter as much. Our perceptions will change with experience.

The magic and the layered mysteries of truth lie in the practices, such as giving, tithing and helping others, confessing, surrendering, breaking bread together, recognizing holy days and carrying out traditional ritual practices, etc. The Christian Easter rituals and story have changed meaning for me countless times throughout my life as my beliefs and perceptions have changed. But there has always been meaning there, and I think it's tied to the traditional practices.

This viewpoint is partly due to my perception of the evolution of consciousness. It's also due to my strong conviction (perhaps a temporary belief!) that the judgment that resides within religious doctrine is unfortunate and unholy. No scripture or artifact or tradition should be used to judge or condemn one's soul. In the same way, excluding a current experience from the possibility of revelation simply because it's had no predecessing existance in scripture (like having an openly gay priest) seems narrow and stagnant. One of our greatest gifts as humans is the ability to respond creatively to new situations. We are built to do that.

I feel that everything in the universe should be given equal footing as sources of revelation (phenomenological existence as revelation), and our ethics should be founded simply on consent.

There is also, however, the matter of constantly re-inventing the wheel. I can understand why traditions of belief develop. People write wisdom teachings down and canonize them so that they are easier to refer to, and easier to pass on to future generations. There also seem to be cores of wisdom in religious teachings, but again, I would say those refer to how to love and live well in peace, not how and why to judge each other and group ourselves accordingly.

I have a lot of unanswered questions in this discussion...I don't have it all figured out. The lover of neutrality and amoralism in me wants to say that religious moralism creates more problems than it solves. But there is also much beauty and truth to all religious traditions, and I find little beauty in neutrality. I am biased toward beauty and taking pleasure in beauty, especially that which I find in the holy and the sacred.

I hope more people respond to your questions. I hope I haven't offended any readers; I know my viewpoints are limited, but there they are.

[qos.livejournal.com]

This is a great way to come at the question, Seauleja. You've given me some excellent food for thought. Thanks!

[wlotus.livejournal.com]

I like religious tradition as a grounding exercise and reminder that I belong to something bigger than myself. However, as a method for deciding how to navigate the details of life in the year 2007 as a middle-aged, unmarried, college-educated, professional, black, financially independent, American woman, religious tradition doesn't cut it. There were no women like me when Christianity (my spiritual foundation) came about. The Bible does not address my unique situations, because not only did my situation did not exist back then, but the (usually male) writers could not have seen things from my perspective as they wrote what they thought was an accurate rendition of what God wanted them to write. So religious tradition is only applicable to my everyday life as a high-level guide; I must figure out the details based on what makes the most sense to me, or I will end up repressed and oppressed and dreadfully unfulfilled.

Again.

[qos.livejournal.com]

I like the way that both you and Seauleja break down the question -- even though you do it in different ways.

"Belonging to something bigger than myself" is never something I've found in the Church, per se. I find that in God.

Obviously, those who find that in tradition probably also find that in God; I'm just making a distinction in my own case that tradition didn't carry that overtone for me.

I like your distinction between the high-level and the details of life.

[wlotus.livejournal.com]

In my Pentecostal/Evangelical days, I would have said the same about God giving me a sense of belonging to something bigger than myself. But since these days I am not even sure what "god" is, I can no longer say that.

[amqu.livejournal.com]

Do we not have the right to a spirituality that is grounded in and responsive to our own time, just as our forebears' was grounded in and responsive to their own?

It depends. Is the religion about you or about the god?

Like Heidhrun, I worship and call on Freyja -- but if I believed it was important that I do so in strict accordance with the way my ancestors called on Her early in the first millenium, I wouldn't bother. In fact, the most important elements of my observances are not found in any saga or artifact I'm aware of. But I've felt Her presence and power nonetheless, and I am not going to give up those rites just because they are not historically based.

Do you believe Freyja is an actual person? Or do you consider her a manifestation of a general free-floating "divine"? Do you think Freyja is satisfied with a simple acknowledgment of her existence, or do you think she is particular in how she is worshiped?

One (not the only) standard is how what they've experienced fits with revelations which have been recorded and preserved through tradition.

If it fits, what does it mean? If it doesn't fit, what does it mean?

The sifting of authentic revelation from the culturally relative (or personally expedient) is, in my opinion, a major issue in modern spirituality.

How can you tell? How are we to judge what is authentic revelation and cultural relativity? Is it completely subjective? What is the sifting criteria?

...how do you balance historical fidelity and preservation with modern challenges? Where and how do you draw the line between what you keep and what you discard from the past?

I accept the fact that human nature doesn't change. The Bible was written for people just like me. However, I don't hold with human tradition, so I question all historic Christian beliefs. If it doesn't measure up to a Biblical standard, it goes the way of the dodo. In the same manner, if current cultural ideas contradict the Biblical standard, they also get jettisoned.

[athenian-abroad.livejournal.com]

I'll chip in my own, perhaps over-analytical, two cents.

It may be helpful to think about these questions in terms of a three-part typology: (1) Authentic Tradition; (2) Pretend Tradition; and (3) Innovation. One set of questions relates to the classification of particular religious practices and doctrines (e.g. "Is the doctrine of Papal Infallibility an authentic tradition?"). A different set of questions relates to the relative values of the categories (e.g. "Why do we care about the distinction between Pretend and Authentic tradition?" or "Which is more likely to be true, Authentic Tradition or Innovation?").

Authentic Tradition here means, "what people really did believe and practice a long time ago," while Innovation means, "new things that we believe or practice now, but which we know weren't believed or practiced in the past." Pretend Tradition is the interesting category, because it consists of innovations which are said to be (with greater or lesser degrees of seriousness) ancient traditions. The really interesting question, I think, is why this category exists at all. Why "dress up" new things as old ones?

I can think of two major reasons. First, archaism itself has aesthetic value and therefore (in my book, synonymously) spiritual value. Antiquity can evoke emotional states and responses that are valuable for spiritual, and particularly mystical, practice. Old things are special, set apart from ordinary day-to-day life, unfamiliar yet not entirely alien, poetic rather than prosaic. Which sounds suspiciously like a definition of "sacred."

The other thing which motivates efforts to classify as traditional doctrines and practices which are not, is a desire to claim authority grounded on "traditional-ness." Some doctrinal set-ups make Pretend Tradition almost unavoidable. A church which grounds its claims to spiritual authority on the permanent, unchanging and inerrant nature of its teachings is very likely, if it exists for more than a few decades, to elaborate a body of Pretend Tradition.

Figuring out the relative "truth values" of the different categories depends, first of all, on the "kind" of truth you look for in spiritual claims. I like to distinguish "prosaic truth" from "poetic truth," where the latter has to do with emotional resonance, meaningfulness, et cetera, while the former is about whether a claim is...you know...true. We might say that Anna Karenina is true poetically (keenly observed, moving, insightful) while acknowledging that it is prosaically un-true -- i.e. that it is a work of fiction.

If you view spiritual truth as being primarily poetic truth, then the choice between categories is a personal, aesthetic one. If well chosen Innovations "speak to you," then so be it. If you crave kinship with the ancient past, then explore Authentic Tradition. If you find Authentic Tradition too "outdated" but still desire the feel of archaism, perhaps Pretend Tradition is for you. Tout le monde a sons gout, or words to that effect.

On the other hand, if you view spiritual truths as prosaic truths, as facts-in-the-world, like whether the Earth revolves around the Sun or the boiling point of water, a purely subjective, aesthetic judgment is likely inadequate. Now you need a theory defining a procedure for ascertaining "spiritual facts," and the nature of that theory will guide your evaluation of the "trustworthiness" of the different categories.

[oakmouse]

I wouldn't say this is over-analytical; I'd call it clear and reasoned. Also dead accurate; if you look into the history of ceremonial magic in the 19th and 20th centuries, for instance, or the early history of Gardnerian Wicca, you'll find that you're right on the money with the motives for "pretend tradition".