NMR ISSUE 39

Adjusting to Time Changes
Astrological Forecast 39
Bee and gopher
Crane
Editorial 39
Esoteric Symbology of the Tarot
Harvest
Letters 39
Meditations on the Elements: Fire
Pagans and the Net
The Joy of Death
The Sirius Connection
The Spirit's Dance

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The Editorial

By Scot Rhoads

Rag Burning

You're a grand old rag; you're a high-flying flag. That’s how the song You're a Grand Old Flag originally began. It was changed because so many complained it was disrespectful. Recently there's noise again about banning flag burning. I prefer the original lyrics and I prefer the permissive laws. The flag is a symbol. For most, it is a symbol of our justifiably sacred social ideals (life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness). For some, it is a symbol of our social ills (materialism, imperialism, and repression). But it is always just a symbol. If we transfer the sanctity of what the flag symbolizes to the cloth itself, we put at greater risk those things that make the flag worthy of sanctification. A flag is immediate and tangible, it is something we can salute, fold up and fly at half-staff. Liberty, however, is intangible, vague—not everyone agrees on what it is. Liberty is much more difficult to wrap one's mind around.

But allowing flag burning reminds us that the flag is no more than a symbol of what we really care about; and we had best attend to those things directly rather than just worry about how snappy our flag looks and how unburned it is. This is not to say that in opposing anti-burning laws I support burning the flag. This is hostile, provocative, divisive and disrespectful—even when you don't respect what the flag symbolizes to you, burning it is disrespectful to others' feelings. But one of the best reasons against burning the flag is that you can burn the flag. When we can use symbols and still remember that they are just symbols, we have a better chance of being in touch with the intangibles that those symbols symbolize. Thus, legislating the sanctity of the flag desecrates it more than any flag burner can. Whereas, if it's legal to burn a flag, no one can burn the Flag in the symbolic sense.

Allowing flag burning symbolizes the symbolic nature of the flag. Officially recognizing a distinction between sacred symbols and the sacred things they symbolize can serve to remind us of the profane nature of symbolism itself. While we can get our minds around a symbol, it's harder to encompass what is symbolized—otherwise, we don't need a symbol. But there is a tendency to start confusing the symbol with the symbolized (a la Magritte's This is Not a Pipe painting). This can allow symbols to demand more allegiance than what they symbolize, even when their meanings (or the institutions that embody them) drift. An official recognition that symbols are never more than symbols helps us take a careful look beyond the symbols. We can more easily remember the symbolized and reevaluate how true we, our symbols and our institutions are to these principles. Insisting upon hollow allegiance to mere symbols is a form of psychological repression on a social scale by which we avoid such tough questions and responsibilities.

As Pagans we can remember perhaps more easily than those of more dominant subcultures that there is so much more to our symbols than the mere physical manifestation. But it is still wise to remind ourselves—and others! That just as Christians do not really worship the cross, so we do not really worship the pentagram. This, to me, is the meaning of the Bible's admonition against idolatry—not to allow ourselves to idolize the idols but to remain true to the Goddess Who transcends anything we can conceive. Symbols deserve the greatest respect insofar as they serve our quest for the transcendent. But as soon as we forget that they are merely symbols, they start to distract us. Fortunately, a simple reminder can keep us on track. Let's hope our leaders remember—but either way, the responsibility will always lie with us as individuals to gently remind ourselves and others—and to gracefully accept reminders from others—of the nature of symbols.

There's One Born-Again Every Minute

Occasionally I skim a local Humanist newsletter. In it, there seems to be an unquestioned understanding that religion is an anathema. Certainly there's an endless supply of unpleasantness streaming from religion: wars, genocide, repression, close-mindedness, intolerance, and hostility. It is no wonder that so many writers in this newsletter reject everything religion says. Or do they?

These people don't just reject the bad things that come through religion (I would not say from religion). They reject everything they think religion is. And what do they think it is? Here it seems that they are willing to accept whatever religious institutions tell them. If religious leaders lay claim to spirituality (as so many do), then these hostile humanists reject spirituality. They are so keen on questioning that they do not question what they question.

One way to look at religions are as institutional combinations of spirituality and politics. I can see how they would be a powerful unifying force for ancient communities. But they were extensions of those communities, so the religion's acts could be nothing more than the communities' acts. This is clear where we see the crimes of religion independent of the brand of religion—or of any religion. Religion is just a unifying principle—what comes out of it is what is in the hearts of the people that seem to be doing its will.

This is not to say that religion is not manipulative. There is a repertoire in the hearts of the populace which religious leaders can invoke for their own purposes—or for purposes which the manipulators themselves are not themselves consciously aware. But religion and its leaders do not create anything. Their powers are limited.

Religion predates rationality and Platonic logic, and at a distance it does not seem to mix with them very well. Yet religion can manipulate them with facility. But then, so can anything else. The difference is that by manipulating spirituality also, it can be more effective at manipulating/unifying larger numbers of people. Here I wonder if perhaps much of the hatred for religion is sour grapes at not being able to match its power. And here I am sure that much of the hatred of religion is fear—since there is no appeal to reason (even if such appeals are never more than illusion). No wonder many would like to see the elimination of religion.

But religion is so powerful because of its spiritual component. And that is so powerful because it addresses or expresses a basic human need. Those who hate religion may want to deny this, and decry those who stoop to religion to fulfill their spiritual needs. But such wholesale rejection only gives power to religion. We may be able to do without religion, but not spirituality. Rejecting both leaves no alternative means of addressing spiritual needs. The religious institutions are too strong to defeat and the alternatives are attacked by both sides—thus leaving traditional religion.

Instead of a blanket religion is a Good Thing or religion is a Bad Thing, I would like to see a calm assessment of the role religion plays in our lives—not as a source, but as a conduit. What are the bad things that come through it, and how can we address them; not just how do we address religion—though solutions may well involve changes to religion. And what are the good things that come through religion, and how can we address them in ways that circumvent the bad things?

I think Paganism as a religion does a good job because it is such a personal religion. I like to say that it is a separate religion for each person. This is true to some degree of any religion, but it is especially true of Paganism because of the lack of structure and contiguous organization—in space and in time. This means that social action must be on a more rational level, but spiritual needs are met—in the best way, since it is more personal.

But this individuality is not restricted to Paganism. Paganism is just a salient example because its ancient structures were disrupted. If you pursue Paganism all that's left is the spiritual aspect. No Pharaoh will challenge the Pope! In that respect, the Medieval Church did us something of a favor. Now we can return the favor (in a nice way) by encouraging those Christians who pursue their spirituality separate from politics and institutionalism. But those who insist upon blanket hatred and fear of religion, without recognizing the needs it serves, put up a wall. If we do not work to wear it down, it might otherwise only be breached by violence—and then we will have no assurance which side will win. But whichever side does, it will mean every individual loses, because if we do not heal the rift and integrate our society and collective mind, we will restrict our access to spirituality and rationality—more of one than the other, perhaps, but definitely both. Fortunately, though things may appear discouraging in the short term, accepted prejudices of past millennia and centuries and even decades are now an anathema. To be confident of success we need only remain dedicated to our already established goals.

Blessed Be