On Multiple Religious Belonging

I’ve admitted this before, but I’m going to say it again: long-distance driving is possibly one of my favorite things in the universe. I don’t have a lot of whys and wherefores to explain it. Might be genetics (there’s a good case could be made for that if you know my family), might be growing up through many road-trips out west. Might be restlessness and dissatisfaction. Might be all these things in combination. I just love the road.

This past weekend I was driving home from celebrating Imbolc – friends, juniper, and fire – the sun was just setting behind me, illuminating the mountains, and the sky…y’all, the sky was a million things and all of them outrageous and brilliant and stunning and marvelous. The road rumbled beneath the tires, and the weight of life could not keep up with me. I was a fast star and a falcon. The future and the past were visible before and behind, and the only thing in existence was the diamond center. And there was music, fueling the burn, sweetening the shade, gilding the hills with another light, just as numinous and rich as the sun itself. There are no expectations or obligations in that place. Only beauty. Only being. If you know me, you know I cried.

I prayed a lot too in that place. Please, Mama…more light to fall on the broken places and make the shadows beautiful. Please, Christ of Compassion, gentle my heart. Please, Brighid, Woman of Flame and Verse, help me find the words.

The bloom of memory was alive in my chest – the sweetness of a dreamy youth, the thousand wonders and miracles of the Mama I’ve been gifted with the opportunity to witness purely on the merit of my breath. Beauty that exists for no reason other than itself. Complexity, radical amazement. The Astonishing, Roiling, Perfect Isness of God.*

I came home all on fire with these things. Friendship, the sky, amazement. Grounded in relationship, life is remarkable. I felt humbled. That’s the only word I can think that fits. Etymologically…humble, from humus, towards the soil, snug as rock. Humbled with arms open, and exquisitely, awfully and wonderfully vulnerable. This is life. It is terrible, and sweet. So much so and so much at the same time that it is almost a wound to think about it. All this, yes.

Later, when I’d come down from the mountain a bit, I thought about the trembling heart. I read some stuff on community and grace, and of course I thought a bit about this strange place between I find myself occupying more and more – this Christian and Neopagan place. Chapel and earth, church and folk religion, forgiveness and magic, brokenness and beauty. And that’s when I made a delightful discovery: the growing discussion surrounding “multiple religious belonging.” For many people, I think it’s always exciting to find a language that fits and evokes, that speaks to one’s condition. I’ve had several moments like that in my life. I’m willing to bet you have too. Some of those labels/identities/languages have come and gone and others have remained. But right now, “double/multiple religious belonging,” awkward-sounding though it may be, is a fit for me.**

It’s no secret that the thing I’ve been brooding on the most lately has been my position “in between” Neopaganism and Christianity. I can’t rightly say when this aspect of my spiritual journey began, since I’ve been intrigued by and drawn to various churches for quite some time. I went to seminary and learned to talk theology, a language I loved, and while I spent the majority of my time in seminary adapting that language to Neopaganism (for better or worse depending on your opinion), it can’t be denied that I continued to be intrigued by the Christianity I found myself steeped in, and its languages of discernment, prayer, vocation, forgiveness, radicality, and social ecojustice. After seminary I continued the project of adapting my new language to Neopaganism, and I still consider that a worthy project. But more and more, I found myself drawn to Christian spirituality, and, it was uncomfortable for me to discover, to figures in that tradition – The Virgin Mary, John the Baptist, Mary Magdalene, Jesus Christ. My studies in folk magic/practice/religion were also often steeped in these traditions I found, and it was through those magical traditions that I began to pray with the psalms and the saints. So I explored that. I continue to do so. And the more I explored, the more I realized that this discomfort might be an authentic place to be. And the more honest I was with myself, the more I started to consider the discomfort a friend…a healthy challenge. A healing dynamism. A necessary tension.

My personal spirituality has therefore become sometimes syncretic and sometimes contradictory, and I wrestle and sway and dance and dream there and sometimes I love it and sometimes I struggle – individual spiritualities are often this way. But I did and do still feel torn, and not in a good way, with issues of community. Religion, I believe, is a critically communal affair, and while some may not need religion, I have come to realize that I do.

So while it may seem unsurprising to some depending on their interpretations of my work over the past few years, to me it is a big deal to admit to myself and now to others that I do, wholly, belong to two religious communities – the culture of earth-centered folk religion (particularly in its contemporary expressions in Neopaganism, since this remains the religio-spiritual milieu in which I spent 20+ years of my life), and the culture of liberal/radical/progressive Christianity, as it is expressed predominantly in emergent, anabaptist and mainline Protestantism (Quakerism, Episcopalianism and UCC it seems primarily). My relationship with Neopaganism is instrumental in my Christianity, and my relationship with Christianity is instrumental in my Neopaganism. For me, they complement, challenge, influence, and illuminate each other, and I could not give one up for the other. I belong in both. Multiple religious belonging.

I know for many that this is a challenging combination. It is not lost upon me that this is something that many on both sides find impossible, repugnant, extremely weird, anathema, etc. In response to that I can only say that I am trying to be authentic with myself, as meaningfully and as deeply as possible.

While several different combinations were represented in my searching, the majority of material I found regarding multiple religious belonging involved those folks who were raised in various kinds of Christianity but have discovered numinous depth in the practice of various kinds of Buddhism, though I became particularly intrigued with the work of Monica A. Coleman, a professor at Claremont Lincoln University, whose article The Womb Circle: A Womanist Practice of Multi-Religious Belonging I found particularly relevant.

Certainly Coleman’s specific experiences are different than mine, but this article brought up two vital points that I too have been pondering ever since it became apparent that my path was no longer going to be easily labeled solely Neopagan. In the final section of the article, entitled “Lessons from the Womb Circle,” Coleman first states, and I personally don’t think it can be said enough, that all religions are syncretic. As Coleman puts it:

“There are no pure cultures. Religions are embedded in who we are and our cultures; and there can be no encounter—however brief or long-term, voluntary or violent—that does not change who and how we are who and what we are. The first lesson is that all religions—and cultures, for that matter—are syncretic. The historical development and current practice of all religious traditions are syncretic. The idea that we live in discrete religious traditions and communities is fallacious for most everyone (Coleman, 9).” 

Yes. Religions are complex. I think what bothers me most about most criticism of religion that I’ve witnessed, in my experiences with both Neopagans and Christians, is that the complexity of religion and religious faith / practice / history, and the very nature of religion to be syncretic, is often ignored.

In addition within the realm of complexity, Lordisa knows that Neopaganism is not a monolith – it is certainly not a religion, and I’ve argued repeatedly that I think it’s probably not even very useful as an umbrella term. But neither is Christianity, really. Once upon a time I might have argued that Christians, circling the unitive Christ story, have more cohesion as a theological group than Neopagans, and I might still believe that, but I have come to believe that in many respects, it could also be stated that there are almost as many Christianities as there are Neopaganisms, sometimes with almost as wide a philosophical, theological, ethical and mythological disparity between them. Which is why I think we should focus on arguing about and wrestling with theologies and ethical beliefs, not religions.

Coleman’s second point is that the bulk of religious being is in the doing, the practice, more so than it is in belief. Neopagans love to talk about orthopraxy versus orthodoxy, and while certainly there are Christian traditions that emphasize orthodoxy (i.e. right belief), when it comes down to the every day practice of the individual and the small group, praxis takes precedence, in Christianity as well as in Neopaganism and many other religions. As Coleman states, “an individual—or even entire communities—can be multi-religious in religious traditions with different scriptures and conflicting theological tenets (including the monism or multiplicity of deities) because religious experience focuses more on religious practice than it does on confessional stance (Coleman, 10).” 

Yes. Now sure, I’ve done plenty of thinking (and some writing) about how I square my monism with my animism/polytheism and definitely have opinions about ethics and justice, and this belief system works for me and is at the same time an ongoing project, but it is in the practice – chanting the psalms, making offerings in the woods, going to church, burning incense, going to festivals, performing rituals in honor of seasons and spirits, practicing silence, praying, honoring my ancestors, singing hymns, making charms and performing magical workings, participating in social justice activities, and in both communities simply being in community…laughing, crying, helping, praying, singing, arguing, eating – that I experience these faiths, and in this experiencing I find no contradiction between them.

So, for me and for now, I am fascinated by the growing conversation around multiple religious belonging. I hope to explore that more here over time as I continue to map out what it means for me to belong to these communities.

And in the meantime, friends, the road is gray and moves through trees and mountains, hawk and gravel, sunset and outrageous sky. Wrestle and turn. Pray and sing.

Grok Earth. Pray without ceasing.

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* God. G*d. Godde. Isness. Breath. Movement. Spirit. That Which Moves. That Which Is. Being. Existence. Stars, grass, chocolate, and war. Beauty and horror. Life and death. Grand and small and everything and nothing. God.

** On “Christopaganism.” This term has been used by others and lately on occasion by me. I don’t consider it a terrible term rife with horrors, as some do, but I do admit that it has come to indicate a certain approach and/or community to which I do not necessarily feel I belong. To be specific, my personal spirituality may sometimes be considered a syncretism of certain Christian and Neopagan theologies/practices, and the term “Christopagan” may apply there, but in communal practice, I do not consider myself belonging to a “Christopagan” community. I belong to a few Neopagan communities, and I belong to the progressive Christian community at large (and am actively looking for a more permanent church “home” at the moment). They inform each other in my life, and there are instances when pieces overlap (due to natural syncretisms that already exist, or due to experimentation in either camp) but I do not expect my church to celebrate Samhain and I do not expect my Neopagan groups to serve communion, etc. Additionally, it has been my experience that Christopagan groups tend towards particular expressions of a syncretic faith that I just don’t resonate with – Christian Wicca is not my path for example, and while I am interested in aspects of Sophian Gnosticism and/or forms of Esoteric Goddessian Christianity, that is not my primary path either. At this point in my journey, I feel the term Christopagan doesn’t fit me, though I do admit to using it on occasion for the sake of brevity…even though I’ve stated in the past that this is an unwise practice…because, well, I’m not perfect and have been and am still searching for the right language. “Multiple religious belonging” as a concept is incredibly helpful in that project for me at the moment. However, I think it’s important to say, since there are those who actively disparage Christopaganism, that while it may not be a term that fits me, I believe, firmly, that it is an utterly valid spiritual and religious choice.

• February 8, 2012
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