Annual Thanksgiving Eve Service and Homeless Persons Memorial Day

19^th Annual Thanksgiving Eve Service

For the past several years I’ve participated in an annual Thanksgiving service sponsored by the Marin Interfaith Street Chaplaincy.

Each ‘clergy’ -- I don’t use that appellation for myself but the interfaith communities do – is asked to bring a teaching, reflection, or other offering to the gathering.  For the first few years, I briefly told the story of Demeter and Persephone, reminding attendees that they’ve likely heard this tale or some version of it before.  Then my sweetie Corby, who’s a good singer, and I sang “Demeter’s Song in harmony.  I think it’s a beautiful song and one that contains imagery that is timeless and easy to identify with, i.e., “the lover’s smile and the workers arm” and “the heart that cries and the hand that heals.”

Last year, given the situation in the Middle East, I found myself thinking of Inanna, who arose in those lands.  I debated with myself just what I might bring to the service that was relevant and new.  What I decided to do was to speak about Inanna and the troubles in her ancient lands, and then have us do a spell together using a call-and-response; it went well.

Since last year went well using Pagan concepts (Inanna and spells) that are less familiar and less accessible to mainstream religions, this year I decided to add another Pagan notion, that of entheogens (wine, mescaline, et al.) and the change of consciousness that accompanies their ingestion.  In my mind was John Barleycorn, except that many homeless folks struggle with alcohol abuse and my presenting him as a harvest god who lives in the barley would have been insensitive to their situations.  So I skipped talking about entheogens and simply introduced the idea of the the divine spirits who inhabit different plants, specifically grain crops.  Then we sang “John Barleycorn,” with everyone singing the refrain together.  “All among the barley, who would not be blithe, when the ripe and bearded barley is hanging on the scythe.”  I love this song.  I love the feeling I experience when we sing these words together.  I can practically see waving golden grains.

So that’s what we did.  Corby and I sang the verses and everyone joined in the refrain.

I searched the Internet for this song so I could provide a link for the reader to hear it.  Alas, in the folk tradition both lyrics and melodies of many songs morph in various ways, and all the versions of this song I could find on YouTube were slightly different from the way I learned it.  I learned the song in the early 1980s from singer and folklorist Holly Tannen.  She learned it from the singing of Mike James and Mick Tems, of the Welsh singing group “Swansea Jack.”  Having been written or created in the late 19^th Century, “All Among the Barley” is no ancient song.  That makes is nonetheless appropriate and effective, and my former community and I, within community or on my own, sing it at Harvest Home (Autumn Equinox).  For the past three years the inmates at San Quentin where I volunteer have sung it when our circle celebrates autumn.  For the reader’s pleasure I offer it here:

Now is come September, the hunter’s Moon begun

And through the wheaten stubble is heard the frequent gun.

The leaves are pale and yellow, and kindling into red,

And the ripe and bearded barley is hanging down its head.

            Chorus:

All among the barley, who would not be blithe

When the ripe and bearded barley is smiling on the scythe.

The spring is like a young man who does not know his mind.

The summer is a tyrant of a most ungracious kind.

The autumn’s like and old friend who loves one all she can.

And she brings the bearded barley to glad the heart of man.

            Chorus

The wheat is like a rich man; it’s sleek and well-to-do.

The oats are like a pack of girls, laughing and dancing too.

The rye is like a miser; it’s sulky, lean and small.

And the ripe and bearded barley is monarch of them all.

            Chorus

(Repeat first verse.)

At this Thanksgiving Eve service new sleeping bags, packages of socks, and such array the harvest altar along with pumpkins, ears of corn, and other harvest.  They are distributed at the conclusion of the ceremony.

I reluctantly must say that the other chants offered at this service were, to me and Corby at least, pretty lifeless, except for the music of the Lighthouse Gospel Choir of Marin.  Singing “All Among the Barley” together livened everything up.

We concluded with a chant lead by a woman from San Francisco Theological Seminary.  It’s one we all probably know, “All Shall Be Well.”  However, the folk tradition being what it is, we sang it as one single note instead of with the melody I’m used to.  Nevertheless, it proved to be an effective seal for the spell.

Homeless Persons Memorial Day

I’ve reported in the past about memorials for those in our county who’ve died without a roof over their heads.  They’ve taken place in summertime and have begun with a procession through the streets.  This year was different.   The National Healthcare for the Homeless Council has designated December 21 (on or around the date) as Homeless Persons' Memorial Day.  This year we joined others all over the country in memorializing those unfortunate and often premature passings.

Street chaplain Rev. Paul Gaffney asked me to offer the prayer and lead the gathering in a chant I’ve done before.  I had something better and more seasonal to share because the service, and the named day, was scheduled for December 21, the first day of the returning sun.  So instead I delivered a brief reflection on the return of the light.  Then, at the conclusion of the ceremony, after we’d all lit candles from a single flame and assembled on the terrace in front of 1^st Presbyterian Church of San Rafael.  It’s lively. It’s fun.  It’s affirming and encouraging.  And it keeps the legacy of Pagan songwriter Charlie Murphy alive.  This one I was able to find on YouTube (albeit we didn’t have the enhancement of a gospel choir).

Happy Holidays!

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Thanksgiving with Our Homeless Population

Most years the Marin Interfaith Street Chaplaincy presents an interfaith religious service on Thanksgiving Eve.  These events include music and singing, poetry and drumming, stories and prayers.  Some of the speakers come from the homeless population and some are religious leaders.  I’ve participated in many of these services as a representative of the Pagan paths.  (Technically, I’m Witchen, but I try to present the broadest and most diverse faces of Paganisms.)

In the past I’ve chosen to highlight Demeter, for several reasons.  One is that many Americans are familiar with the Greek and Roman myths; often they’ve heard of about Persephone’s descent into Hades and subsequent reunion with her mother Demeter in the Spring.

I also find that short talks that end with a song tend to be more memorable, leaving people with a song in their head.  The song called “Demeter’s Song” contains words, such as “the lover’s smile and the worker’s arm,” that are relevant to contemporary life.  People can relate to them.  They are not obscure or other-worldly. The song is not laden with appeals to a divine entity; rather, it’s sung in the first person and tells who she is, sort of like a brief introduction in a conversational group.

So I briefly tell how the land became barren during the time of Demeter’s grief and search for her missing daughter, and how the hens begin to lay, the orchards to bear fruit, and the people’s hunger is then assuaged when mother and daughter are reunited and Demeter again assures abundance.  I conclude with a duet with my partner Corby of “Demeter’s Song.”[1]

At the time in the service where offerings are proffered and the collection plates are passed, people pile gifts of new sleeping bags and packages of socks at the base of a harvest-bedecked altar.

Afterwards we gather in another room for casual conversation and refreshments.  During this after-gathering both homeless people and other religious leaders have told me how much they’ve appreciated this talk and song about Demeter.  For, although the service is broadly welcoming of all forms of religious expression, the fact of the matter is that, like society at large, it’s overwhelmingly Abrahamic in manifestation.  This year, in fact, there wasn’t even a rabbi or an imam there.  Except for a Buddhist and myself, all speakers came from one or another Christian denomination.  So it’s really great for me to learn how my offering was perceived.

This year’s service came shortly after the terrorist attacks in Paris.  The discord around the world, especially in the Middle East, seems to be expanding.  Only the completely oblivious can remain unaware of these unfortunate developments.  This situation has been on my mind, and I’m sure it’s been on the minds of those at this event.

I was ready to rehearse our harmonies on “Demeter’s Song” again this year, but another song kept nagging me.  Another song about another goddess in another time and place.  I pondered the notion of speaking of something so unfamiliar and remote.  Then I decided to go for it.

I spoke about a goddess named Inanna, who showed herself to the people of the Fertile Crescent thousands of years ago, about 4000 Before the Common Era.[2]  I talked about how the people of her homeland in Mesopotamia (literally, “[land] between rivers,” the Tigris and the Euphrates), now considered to comprise modern day Iraq, Syria, and Kuwait, live in such distress.

I told of Enki’s gift to Inanna of the 10,000 Me, all the gifts of civilization (music, medicine, agriculture, writing, mathematics, weaving, pottery-making, et al.).  I spoke of her journey to visit her sister Erishkigal in her underworld realm of heat and dust, and how she divested herself of her possessions at each of the seven levels or portals, beginning with her shigurra crown, then her bejeweled breastplate, until she arrived before Erishkigal naked.  I said that some consider Salome’s dance of the seven veils to have been a reenactment of Inanna’s descent, but that I was not prepared to argue the merits of that contention; I wanted to emplace her and give them something to think about.

Then I invited them to join me in a spell, a spell to reawaken the spirit of Inanna and all the wonderful gifts she represents – joy and abundance, beauty and prosperity, peace and creativity.  Like the Christian prayers for peace and healing of those gathered, we would do a “working” using our voices in song.  I said that if they were uncomfortable at the thought of performing a spell, they could view what we were about to do as simply a sing-along.

The song I used is a call-and-response in which every line is sung and then repeated by everyone; in other words, each line is sung twice.  They didn’t need to remember anything; all they had to do was to sing back the lines as I sang them. 

I explained that the words and images are from those ancient times when Inanna was worshipped, translated from the original cuneiform into modern English by the late Sumerologist Samuel Noah Kramer, and thence turned into a song.  They are not the words of romantic fantasy.

I asked them to think of the plight of the peoples of the Middle East and to envision them enjoying the gifts of Inanna and the pleasures of life -- safe homes, plenty to eat and drink, dancing.  With our song we would work towards reawakening these qualities among the people of her homeland.  And so we sang:

Barge of Heaven[3]

Your crescent shaped barge of heaven,

So well belayed, so well belayed.

Full of loveliness like the new moon.

Your fertile fields well watered

The hillock lands well watered too.

At your mighty rising

The vines rise up and the fields rise up,

And the desert blooms in green

Just like a living garden.

In the heat of the sun you are shade,

A well of water in a dry dry land.

Swelling fruits to feed the hungry,

Sweet cream to quench our thirst.

Pour it out for me.

Pour it out for me.

Everything you send me I will drink.

I had called for us to sing this through three times.  At the first round, some of the congregants’ responses were tentative.  Responses grew more convincing during the second repetition, until when we arrived at the third repetition, my words and their responses were full-throated and powerful.

I concluded with the words, “By all the power of three times three, as we do will, so mote it be!”

This year at the after-gathering I was a bit apprehensive.  I wasn’t sure if I’d pushed too hard against the prevailing mindset.  The feedback I got, however, reassured me that what we Pagans can bring to the common table of interfaith resonates and carries meaning.  Annie, the wife of the street chaplain who organizes this event, said, “You rocked!”

May the welcome reception I received for this spell-working encourage others who represent a public face of Paganism to make our presence known in a constructive way.

This was my Thanksgiving spell.

---

[1] Corby and I also sing this song as a form of grace before family holiday meals in our complex multi-religious and atheist families.

[2] You have to say “Before the Common Era” because most people think of BC (instead of BCE) as “before Christ.”  However, it’s more accurate, at least in a broad inter-religious context, to use BCE.

[3] Words adapted from Sumerian text (tr. Thorkild Jacobsen, Diane Wolkstein, and Samuel Noah Kramer)  Music by Starhawk, arranged by Lunacy.

Remembering the Homeless

 Photo  © Ron Greene*

 
Lest we get bogged down in my personal disappointments with Reclaiming, I remind myself and readers that there are bigger issues in our worlds.

In late July the Marin Interfaith Street Chaplaincy memorializes the homeless of our county with a gathering, march, and brief program.  If I am not away from home, I participate.  This year was a bit different, in that there was much less diversity among the interfaith participants.  After we are called together with drumming, often a Buddhist will light incense and offer a prayer to bless the endeavor.  There was no Buddhist there this year, although there are several Buddhist congregations and at least two prominent Buddhist retreats in the county.  Nor were there any representatives from any of the local Jewish synagogues, as there have been in the past.  Nor was there a contingent of Dominican Sisters like I'm used to seeing.  I'm guessing this is because the date conflicted with other important matters these folks needed to attend rather than being due to disinterest.  In any case, I was surprised that the only speakers from the religious community were about four Protestant ministers, including my colleague on the Justice Advocacy Team at Marin Interfaith Council, the Rev. Liza Klein of San Rafael First United Methodist Church; one priest from St. Raphael's; and one Pagan, yours truly.

We gathered in the plaza in front of St. Raphael's, near where a tree was planted by this same group about ten years ago.  I took the two photos below a few years ago; the tree has grown larger now.

My contribution was a prayer to the Mother of Justice, followed by singing of a beautiful round called "When We Are Gone," written by Anne Hill and Starhawk and published in The Pagan Book of Living and Dying (as is the prayer).  We have done this enough times now for some of the people to know the song, so the singing was fuller, richer, and sweeter than it's been in past years.

Sometimes people ask why I do this.  The answers are many, but the main one is that there are Pagans among our nation's homeless, and they have told me how much they appreciate seeing a Pagan face among the speakers.  They have also said they're glad to see acknowledgement of goddess worship.

 * * * * *

* Ron Greene has several entries on the homeless in Marin, accompanied by moving photos, on his blog site.  In this photo, I am in the left foreground wearing purple and a big pentacle.

Memorial Procession

The sound of drums drew people together to a circle made of flowers under the trees in Albert Park in downtown San Rafael. The Rev. Paul Gaffney, of the Marin Interfaith Street Chaplaincy, welcomed us to the "14th Annual Memorial Procession in Honor of Those Who Have Died on the Streets of Marin County," beginning with a brief meditation.

A man whose name I don't know played a Native American flute, followed by an offering of incense by the Rev. Michaela O'Connor Bono of Green Gulch Zen Center, and a blessing by the Rev. Liza Klein of the First United Methodist Church of San Rafael.

Bearing our flowers, we proceeded in silent reverence up the street lined with palms, as Paul sounded a bell.

It was strange walking by diners sitting at little tables with crisp linens and glasses of wine on the sidewalk and in the windows of restaurants, since they did not appear to know what we were about. We had no sign. Our silence and reverent attitude, together with the ringing of the bell, made it obvious were about something serious. The distracted part of me wanted to engage these folks in conversation about the very fact that we have homeless people in this rich country of ours, to ask them for money to support the chaplaincy, but I refocussed my mind back on the lost ones......

We arrived at the courtyard of St. Raphael's Church, built at the site of Father Junipero Serra's Mission San Rafaél. Some years ago this same group planted a tree in memory of those we were honoring this day on the church grounds, and it was around the base of that tree that we laid our floral offerings.

We were joined by others who had been waiting in shade of a tree in the courtyard, and welcomed by Fr. John Balleza, who has just taken over as pastor from Fr. Paul Rossi, and who is new to Marin Interfaith Council.

This annual memorial was scheduled later in the day this year than it has been in the past, partly due to the scorching sun and uncomfortable heat of the earlier afternoon. This made for a welcome more shaded venue.

People took turns reading the names of everyone known to have died homeless in Marin County since 1995. After each name was spoken, all assembled repeated it together. This act stirred several mourners to tears as he or she heard the name of a loved one and grieved openly in community. I think this is a healthy part of the grieving process, which is one of the reasons I so look forward to hearing each name when I gather with my co-religionists to honor the Beloved Dead on Samhain night.

As I have in past memorials, I offered a prayer for those who have died violently or in great distress, concluding with an appeal to the Mother of Justice that justice be done. Then I taught a four-line chant written by Starhawk and Anne Hill. When everyone had learned it, we sang it together for a while. This year I didn't try to break it into a round -- it's beautiful when done as a round -- and it seemed to flow more smoothly. There were also fewer people this year than in past years. Usually there a contingent of Dominican sisters come. I think the singing went better this time because some people had sung it in the past and because we were in a cooler space. In any case, some people harmonized and overall it sounded really sweet. I trust it did its job of allowing us to blend our voices in song for the dead.

Paul concluded the ceremony with a reading from the prophet Isaiah.

The Marin Interfaith Street Chaplaincy "provides a compassionate presence for those who are living outside."

If you are a Pagan and you are reading this, especially if you've ever considered doing any work in the world of interfaith relations, you might consider participating in such events in your area. If there is no homeless chaplaincy, there are surely other activities directed toward aiding less fortunate residents of your community. Consider offering your assistance in their work. There is no need to bring religion into it, except in a gentle way. There are no theological discussions, no "whose god(s) is/are better, more real, more authentic, more powerful, more righteous, or even if you have a belief at all, rather than your lived experience with the numinous divine as you've perceived it. Further, it's easy to join in these efforts without compromising the uniqueness of your Paganism in the slightest. Instead, by sharing something of your ways, you not only educate others about who we are, but also you dispel fear and enrich the overall experience for all participants, yourself included. By joining with other people of other religions in projects beneficial to the commonweal, we help mend tears in the fabric of society.

Blessings of the living land,
Macha

National Day of Prayer -- Interfaith

I know there's been lots of fuss this year about the National Day of Prayer. I know that Christians feel they own it. President Obama has chosen not to honor it in the White House this year, which I think is the correct response. Americans United in particular has campaigned against it.

That said, however, for the past several years I've had a most positive experience attending the Marin Interfaith Prayer Breakfast sponsored by Marin Interfaith Council. The only year I missed it was when the first Thursday of May was Beltane. I wouldn't miss it for any other reason.

Held in a large meeting room* at Congregation Rodef Sholom in San Rafael (reformed), this year we had three speakers from three different traditions offering prayers as they traditionally do them. Dominican Sister Marion Irving (whom I've frequently mentioned) opened the gathering, asking people to speak of what they prayed for: peace, shelter for the homeless, end to the troubles in Darfur, President Obama, food for the hungry, ease for those giving birth, ease for those passing from life, healing for the sick, the well-being and healing of inmates, pure drinking water, etc. Who could argue with those goals? Cantor David Margules sang the opening prayer in Hebrew.

I'm comfortable enough now with my colleagues at MIC that it didn't bother me as much that they spoke of God, the Creator and Jesus. They don't overdo it. Plus, the people at our table were very interested to learn from me more about Paganism. Several others who'd attended Carol** and Chris' wedding the previous Saturday told me how they enjoyed the spiral dance and song.

In my experience, when prayer gatherings are made in good faith by caring people in the context of inter-religious dialogue and understanding, with open hearts and minds aspiring towards a commonweal, only good can come from it. If prayers, spells, desires, wishes, goals, outcomes are reinforced by such activities, so much the better. If not, what harm can it do?

The food was healthy and plentiful. The room was nearly full, probably the largest attendance we've had. We dined at round tables, where we discussed two questions: "What role does meditation or prayer play in your faith tradition, or in your own spiritual practice?" and "How do you experience individual and communal prayers/meditation in your religious community?" I was a table captain this year, to keep the conversation on topic and to be sure that everyone had a chance to express her/himself. Among the others at our table was a Protestant (she defined herself that way loosely), two Friends, and a young woman who is seeking, and also taking a priestess training with the Fellowship of Isis at Isis Oasis. Fortuitously, she sat next to me.

We heard three speakers, beginning with Swami Vedandanda of the Vedanta Society (Hindu). Swami Vedandanda co-taught one of MIC's quarterly retreats, with a Buddhist practitioner, at their retreat in Olema, so I had some familiarity with his tradition's teachings.

Rabbi Chai Levy of Congregation Kol Shofar (conservative) seems to be a woman of accomplishment. In addition to promoting the inclusion of praise for the foremothers of Judaism, she espouses s form of consumption called "ecokosher," meaning that animals are raised humanely (free range chickens, for instance), slaughtered humanely, and not wrapped in toxic, non-biodegradable plastics.

Father Stephan Meholick of the St. Nicholas Orthodox Church (Christian) explained some of the history, belief and practices of the Eastern Orthodox tradition. In addressing the need for community, Fr. Meholick quoted one of his church's elders when he stated, "Personal prayer is possible only in community."

This inherent need for community is something I've been giving a lot of thought in relation to our growing Pagan population. I've been comparing my own experiences with community, in my childhood churches, in my adult involvement in various communities, religious and otherwise, and in communities around me. Some seem healthy. Most experience disagreement, internal strife, breakdown, collapse, schism, renewal, restructuring and/or revival at various points in their existence. How can these lessons from other groups help nascent Pagan communities? Can they be avoided? What binds us? Well, I leave my pondering for another time. In the meantime, maybe we Pagans could learn something from the Eastern Orthodox traditions that seem to get along; talk about various orthodoxies -- Moscow Patriarchate, Carpatho Russian Orthodox, Greek Orthodox, Antiochan Orthodox, Ukrainian Orthodox, Serbian Orthodox, Jerusalem Patriarchate, Bulgarian Orthodox, Macedonian, Romanian, Indian, International, Non-Chalcedonian -- whew!

Father Meholick and a colleague of his from a related tradition sang polyphonic prayers. He said they're practices were similar and that their prayers were close enough that they could enhance the prayers by singing them together. They really sounded beautiful.

Fr. Meholick mentioned that in his tradition they use rosaries, but that the beads are made of wool or leather instead of wood, stone, glass, bone or plastic, so that when you go into one of their sanctuaries, you don't hear the clicking often heard in Roman Catholic churches. He told us that the (Serbian? Latvian?) word they use for rosary means "ladder." I know of liberal Protestant churches that say and use rosaries based on the Maiden-Mother-Crone concept found in much of Paganism. I know of at least two Pagan rosarian traditions, one being that of the Church of Asphodel, and another created by Donald L. Engstrom-Reese. I've seriously considered using a rosary, most likely with Bridget as my focus. I've gone so far as to acquire 39 beads in three colors for three aspects in sets of 13, but haven't settled on exact prayer(s) nor found the right separator/goddess beads.

When I went to greet and say goodbye to Sister Marion, she wanted me to refresh her memory of the song we sang at the wedding. She said she'd had it running through her head ever since. It's not a well known Pagan chant, but I'll offer it here in case you're curious. The author of the lyrics is that old prolific Anonymous; the music is by Bone Blossom. She wrote it back when we were Holy Terrors together.

There's a part of the Sun in an apple,
There's a part of the Moon in a rose,
A part of the flaming Pleiades in every leaf that grows.

Assembly of the Sacred Wheel has recorded it on one of their albums, if you want to hear it sung.


* It's worth mentioning that the room in which we met was offered as a shelter one night a week, and at other times for dining, to homeless men and women of Marin during the cold winter months. Governor Schwarzenegger opened the Armory for one month only this winter. Thereafter, various congregations, from the most fundamentalist Christian to the most liberal religious congregations, rotated opening their buildings until April 30. MIC has been urging the County Board of Supervisors for permanent shelter for the homeless.

** The Rev. Carol Hovis, M.Div., Director of Marin Interfaith Council

Remembering Marin's Homeless

Memorial Tree and Plaque

This wicked hot Sunday afternoon the Marin Interfaith Street Chaplaincy held a procession and memorial ceremony for the homeless in Marin who've died in the past year. Through Carol Hovis, Director of the Marin Interfaith Council, I volunteered to participate on behalf of Pagans.

I had done this last December in San Francisco. I offered the same short prayer and longer chant. This time I had sent it to the Rev. Paul Gaffney, the organizer, beforehand. He expressed delight in its appropriateness.

About 50-60 people gathered at Albert Park and, carrying signs, swinging a censor, and chiming Tibetan bowls periodically, walked in silence to the courtyard of St. Raphael's Church. Just in front of the church grounds the interfaith community planted a Japanese red leaf maple, marked by a plaque, in memory of the homeless of Marin who've died in the streets. Prior to the ceremony, marchers placed photographs and flowers in this space. When I returned afterwards to shoot these pictures, the photos were understandably gone; the flowers remained.

Standing in the hot sun across from the reconstructed Mission San Rafael Arcángel, we were welcomed by Father Rossi. Unfortunately, I never got a program so I was not primed for who was doing what when. The 125 names of the dead printed in the program were read by individuals and repeated by all. One was a baby. Some were only first names or nicknames. After the list had been completed, Paul invited the assembly to add others names. About seven more names were added to the memorial. A man read a Buddhist poem.

Then it was time for me to speak Starhawk's prayer "For One Who Has Died Violently or in Great Distress." I could barely see the words on the page for the salty sweat that was stinging my eyes. I taught Anne Hill's and Starhawk's chant, "When We Are Gone," line by line, then two lines at a time, then all four. I was pleased that nearly everyone sang, including the Dominican nuns -- you can always count on the local Dominican sisters to walk their talk when it comes to issues of social justice. When I did this in San Francisco last December, getting everyone to sing was all uphill. The most willing were the Buddhists and the Quakers. Today, we continued the chant for five full repetitions. A man with a deep, strong voice spoke each line after we sang it. I loved it. It enhanced what we were doing. I'd have tried to break us into a three-part round if I'd had a couple of shills in the courtyard to help carry it. I find that when I try to do that myself, people get confused when I sing the first line a second and third time, even when I've told them at the outset that we'll be breaking into a round and I'm looking at and signaling a different segment of the group with each repetition.

Paul concluded with a reading from Isaiah.

As soon as the crowd began to disband to make its way to the Vineyard Christian Fellowship of Marin a few blocks away, a young man wearing a pentacle came up to me and thanked me for remembering to honor Pagans. He said there are other Pagans among Marin's homeless. He lives in a local shelter and attends Mass at St. Raphael's because he was brought up Catholic in Salem, Massachusetts and finds comfort in group worship. He directs his attentions to Mary, Mother of God.

This man, Jon, asked me where he could do ritual with Pagans. I told him about the public sabbats Reclaiming puts on in San Francisco, and reminded him they'd be doing a Lammas ritual this coming weekend. He'd forgotten Lammas was so close. He has internet access so he's going to check Reclaiming's website and go to San Francisco for the rite.

There was press present. I was aware of photographers along the route, and I noticed someone interviewing Father Rossi at the conclusion of the service.

I walked with Paul and his wife Anne and some others to the Vineyard Christian Fellowship. I've been by this place countless times, never expected I'd be in it. There, I chatted with some of the people who'd approached me to tell me they liked what I'd contributed. I felt good about being so welcomed and evidently useful. The event concluded with refreshments, music and socializing in this blessedly air-conditioned space.

Here you can read the words on the plaque.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Some of the questions this experience generates are: What is interfaith all about? How can people of so many belief systems work together on a common cause? Why do this? When we do this sort of work with people of other religions, are we not doing a form of magic? My answer is yes.

How can emerging Pagan culture address the overculture assumption of the availability and desirability of regularly offered group worship? How much of what we do is worship? How much is magic? How much is 'other'?

I want to learn more about the phenomenon I recently found out about called the "protestantization" of religions practiced in America. This is a term used in the field of religious studies. It refers to the tendency of non-Christian religions to adapt a template of the organization of Protestant churches for their own use, even though these religions in their native locations aren't organized that way. For instance, rabbis, originally those who studied Jewish sacred texts and commented on them, now assume additional roles associated with Christian clergy, such as the administration of the synagogue. The Buddhist woman who heads Green Gulch Zen Center isn't a "reverend," but uses that term in the context of relating to the public. Some Pagans use this title, too. I think it's inaccurate and can lead to a separation between practitioners and priest/esses.

Fodder for lively discussion and many more blog posts.

Remembering the Homeless

Tonight, in a constant mist of rain, I participated in the 19th Annual Memorial Service for Homeless People Who Have Died in San Francisco This Year, an interfaith service sponsored by the Coalition on Homelessness and San Francisco Network Ministries.

I had no idea what to expect. I knew that the woman who organizes it, the Rev. Glenda Hope, is well regarded and considered quite a dynamo. She wanted to assure that this event was an inclusive as possible. One of her colleagues contacted me through a circuitous route, and lo! there I was. I'd have preferred to find a San Francisco Pagan, but didn't know of any who might be good at it and willing to do it on December 21. The actual moment of Solstice being late Thursday afternoon, the longest night was December 20th this year, Wednesday, so many Pagans had already celebrated.

Religions represented were Islam, Roman Catholic, the SF Zen Center, a Protestant (Presbyterian, I think), Judaism, someone from a group connected with Tom Waddell, perhaps the Gay Olympics, and Pagan. There was a news truck from KTVU there and someone else who was videotaping the ceremony. The Muslim man spoke quietly and didn't seem to know how to use a mike. The Zen folks -- there were several -- spoke and then chanted words that they'd handed out ahead of time. They chanted in a monotone.

Between speakers someone read names of people who'd died in the streets in 2006. After each name was read, one of the Zen folks struck a bowl. Glenda had gotten the names from the SF Coroner's Office. I loved the reading of the names. Everyone loves the reading of names. People of many religions know in their hearts and bodies that speaking aloud the names of the departed reaches us in a different way than just reading them. That's one of the things about Spiral Dance Samhain rituals in recent years that most disappoints me. People complain that the list is too long, the reading takes too long, it's boring. Well, I think it's only boring to those who aren't listening. I know that for those who've lost someone that year hearing that person called to dance with us is an important part of their mourning.

I read a prayer by Starhawk from our book, adapted for this situation.

"For One Who Has Died Violently or in Great Distress"

Mother of healing,
Help us to believe in the
Place where wounds can heal.

Mother of weaving,
Show us that what has been torn
Can there be mended.

This worst has happened.
How can we believe again
In hope, love, kindness?

Boatman, Ferryman,
They have had rough crossings.
Carry them gently.

Comfort them, Mother,
In your warm arms of
Night; rock them to sleep.

And by our rage,
Mother of Justice,
May justice be done.

I followed with a simple four-line chant by Anne Hill and Starhawk, a C&W-sounding lament called "When We Are Gone." I explained that because we never knew when we'd encounter death, it was good to have something to meet death with, anyone's death, and that this simple chant was good for that. Before we began, I suggested that people might want to take the hand to the person next to them, if they felt comfortable doing so. I asked them to look around at the faces of those around them. I suggested that if that didn't feel right, they might want to close their eyes and see the faces of those they'd lost. I asked those who liked to sing to add harmonies when they wanted, and said we'd break into a four-part round -- we stood in a rather clumpy circle, about three or four deep -- when we got going and everyone knew it well enough.

I taught the chant by speaking the words once. Then I sang one line at a time and asked those assembled to repeat it; then I did the whole chant again two lines at a time, with repeat. Then I sang all four lines and asked them to join it.

Well, I'm telling you, getting them to sing, even such a simple little chant, was like the proverbial pulling of teeth! The Zen folks, bless them, did sing. I looked all around the circle several times as we sang, seeking connection with my eyes to others. I'd guess that maybe 20% of those there actually sang. Needless to say, we never broke into a round. I brought it to a gentle end by drawing out the last word.

The ceremony didn't last long but it was satisfying. It was over in time for me to get to Berkeley to celebrate the Solstice with Coven Trismegiston.