Coven Trismegiston Lammas Altar 2013 |
At a recent
seminary graduation ceremony I attended I noticed the altar. It wasn’t an altar like the altars I’m
more used to seeing.
The setting
was a church sanctuary, 1950s post-WW-II modern, set upon a hill with expanses
of window giving view to the surrounding town and countryside. The glass was clear but for a band of
Frank Lloyd Wright-inspired stained glass around the top. Chairs placed in rows rather than pews
faced the far end of the hexagonal-shaped room, with a choir section off to the
right. Although singers wore
street clothes, most of them had some sort of rainbow chevron on their
clothing.
The dais at
the front of the room contained the altar, some chairs for dignitaries, and a
lectern, probably the modern version of a pulpit. The altar itself, set back against the wall at the far side
of the dais, was a sturdy dark wood table holding a large spray of seasonal
flowers. That’s it. No religious symbols. No statuary. No candles. No tools of any kind.
This got me
to thinking about all the many kinds of altars people have created and the many
ways they’re used. The first
thought that came to me, as I pondered the source of altars, was of a slab of
rock upon which Abraham had laid Isaac for sacrifice before his hand was
stayed. I thought of it as a
workspace. I don’t know why my
thoughts should take me in this direction. Perhaps because of my Christian upbringing.
But of
course the altars of my childhood weren’t used for sacrifice. The altars atop Aztec pyramids were,
though. They were similar to
Abraham’s slab of rock in that they were a hard flat surface for cutting and
bloodletting, albeit sacred bloodletting.
Altars in
the Methodist church were fairly simple affairs, a long, narrow wooden table
draped with white linen, holding a few candlesticks and vases of flowers, with
an empty cross hanging on the wall above.
The Roman
Catholic altars of my father’s church outdid the Methodist ones in
splendor. I don’t know if they
were larger or not, but they seemed so; they held many objects. No plain linen altar cloths for Catholics. Oh, no. Theirs were embroidered with elaborate designs using gilt
thread. The altars held bejeweled chalices,
censers, and monstrances, bells and Bibles, and who knows what all. And they were used. The priest and
his assistants touched and moved and changed things – no doubt in the process
of transmuting the bread and wine into the body and blood of their god.
Nor do
Catholic altars stand alone. There
are other surfaces holding other things, plus elaborate gilded candle stands,
banks of votive candles, chairs, both lectern and pulpit, surmounted and
surrounded by statuary, images, hangings, stained glass windows, and all manner
of marble and fine carved wood opulence.
At that time
we placed the one working altar in the North quadrant of our circle. We placed point candles in the other
three quarters, sometimes with a symbol of Element associated with that
quarter, say a feather or bell in the East, a seashell or cup in the West.
When we
began to offer public sabbat rituals, we sought to dress up and “sanctify”
rented meeting spaces by erecting substantial altars in each of the four
quarters. They grew larger and
more elaborate, bringing out the artist in the altar-builders. We also had four long banners, about 3’
by 8’ hanging above each altar.
My late friend Judy Foster brought a whole new dimension to altar-building, about which I'll elaborate in a future post. They deserve a post of their own.
3 comments:
Thanks for discussing this. I remember that "official" altar chart, I think it was in the Pagan Way Materials. I look at my altar and can see my entire spiritual history and hopes encapsulated in it--Gifts from friends who have passed over, talismans to events important to me and some others, and a record of the hopes and travels of my life journey. It may have dust in a few places, but is still vibrant and very much a living record. They have expanded to three distinct spaces over the years.
I cannot remember where I first heard the suggestion (Ceisiwr Serith's 2009 book Deep Ancestors?), but the fundamental concept of an Indo-European altar is, for me, three squares of earth dug and then stacked so that there is a trench before them. Shining offerings are made on top, with chthonic into the trench, after which the arrangement is returned to its previous state.
This sort of altar is distinct from a "shrine" and I think that most pagan "altars" are really shrines: memorial installations rather than working space.
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