Ah! I remember reading Rosemary Haughton back in those more hopeful days! Just today, I was talking with a friend about the discernment necessary to ordain a priest. I remarked that the best priest was someone who was a priest to all human beings, not just Christian ones. The creeping fundamentalist and literal mindedness, the loss of the deep folk tradition that was part of our ardent belonging, and other unfortunate (and often online) matters are now dividing us so completely. I have spent time on both sides the divide and, like Rosemary, maintain hope to enable the bringing together of all people of faith and good will. I am still glad that we both have kept the doors open, for the hospitable hearth is still the place of magical communion.
Another wonderful essay. I so much agree with everything you say here. The loss of contact with nature - which I suffer from as much as any city dweller even though the green world is only 10 minutes away- is sad. How often do I go? Not often enough. The dislocation of our lives from that of the seasons and the earth is truly horrible, but the amazing thing is - it’s still there. I hope we get to meet up one day. We share so much.
Not usually. I was invited to give a talk at Cambridge two years ago, but ended up having to do it via Zoom since my mother, who was living with me at the time, was nearing her last days. But you never know! Would you and Caitlin like to come on my podcast? It's not exactly "in the flesh," but I'm sure would have a delightful conversation.
I loved this ( and the new album). I need to reread the Golden Bough again. It is incumbent upon us to fight for the right to connect with the land. I have been living by the Celtic Calendar for a good three years now and people just know I am the weird horse and dog woman ,the mad one who harvests under the full moon and forages at certain times. My grandfather taught me that God ( or Goddess or whomever)including the spirits of all the trees and of nature,the water,the air, it all the " Cathedral of Trees. Nature . The animals live it if given the chance. It has brought a sense of peace and purpose to what we do.
May 15·edited May 15Liked by The Druid Stares Back
The longing, aching need for the bejewelled forgotten festivities of Catholicism will forever be lamented by my earth-bound heart. The sound of the city’s sextons’ bell can be deaf to my ears when I return once again to the land. Like cathys’ voice across the moors, it’s calling me home to dance, dine and dig for the divine. Soon ….
I loved this, Michael. In the last couple of days I've been reading Alexander Schmemann's "Introduction to Liturgical Theology" -- excellent, as usual -- and in it he unpacks the Constantinian shift, as experienced liturgically. One of the things that had to happen was the imperial church had to embrace, reshape, and fill every dimension of the natural cycles of life -- i.e. "paganism." And so it was with Constantine that the eschatological liturgical cycles of the church were married to the natural cycles of everyday, grounded, local spiritual experience (paganism). And, reading this, I kept thinking: But why, when I was Orthodox for 13 years, did I not then experience the cycles of the church as integrating me more deeply with the cycles of the Earth? (I experienced it rather as a kind of self-enclosed virtual reality). I think one of the answers to that question is in exactly what you say here: The stories, the cycles, must come from the land itself -- the land here; the land we're living on. Of course, in urban Orthodoxy, it doesn't matter how beautiful the liturgy is, it's not going to reconnect you to an Earth you can scarcely see or touch anyway. But also, if you import a vast liturgical system from Byzantium of a thousand years ago, it's not going to breathe in the same way here in American lands, which have their own way about them. There is no such thing as universal religion, if religion means binding us together, and binding us to the living forces which give us life--which are always local, just like our bodies are. Yet, we need structure; also -- and especially when we are as sick as we are right now -- we can't start from scratch. So we need a pretty airy, breezy but still strong, sharp, resilient structure to help us, but we can't just make that structure up, we need to find it; we need to receive it. So...? (That's my question)
Wait, we're not going to just figure it right here? ;) I love being alive in this time of dissolution and rebirth, finding people like you and the other people in this space, listening hard, pushing hard, for the new [---nameless mystery----] emerging.
The American expression - made me think of the old Appalachian culture as being a Christian based one immersed in nature. The book “Braiding Sweetgrass” has some references to that.
I do wish that the Orthodox would fix their calendar; Easter landing halfway between spring and summer (as it did this year) is frankly bizarre. Easter is supposed to be by the vernal equinox, just as Christmas is by the winter solstice.
I'd love to see what happens if you go into an Orthodox church and say the word "calendar" and the word "fix" in the same sentence ;) I still don't understand how either West or East calculates Easter, or why neither one is obviously tied to Passover, but vernal equinox would indeed be the logical, straightforward day, wouldn't it. However, I did notice that Orthodox Easter -- at least in Minnesota -- coincided, finally, with the first blooming of flowers (usually there's still snow on the ground).
As an American Orthodox without ethnic ties to the old countries of Orthodoxy, I can sympathize with your wrestling, Graham. Although this is not much of an answer, I do think one can find similar folk elements in the Orthodox world. The celebration of St John's Day (or Ivan Kupala) in the Slavic world is one example. The rural Greeks had and still have a relationship with fairies and other nature spirits like the Irish. Both peoples suffered under a foreign yoke for almost the exact same period of time and both, in response, developed an extremely vigorous folk life, which thrived without the domination of a so-called "high culture," both societies having been prevented from developing centers of higher education for centuries. Remote parts of Greece, for example in the Morea, were not Christianized until the fourteenth century. Patrick Leigh Fermor's books on Greece give a rich picture of this culture, as do the books by Juliet du Boulay on Greek mountain villagers. All this to say that there are connections between the byzantine liturgical cycle and the earth, mediated by folk customs — though these were often deliberately dropped or forgotten when Orthodox peoples came to America.
But all this probably does not help you much, because the question you seem to be asking is, 'how do we recover those lost threads of folk connection between the liturgical life and the world outside the church building, the world of seasons, cycles, stars, and growing things?' Or, perhaps you are asking whether America needs its own folk customs, its own celebrations that arise from this soil. Either way, I think we cannot look to the official, institutional church to give this to us. What to do in light of this is, as Michael said, the question.
Ah! I remember reading Rosemary Haughton back in those more hopeful days! Just today, I was talking with a friend about the discernment necessary to ordain a priest. I remarked that the best priest was someone who was a priest to all human beings, not just Christian ones. The creeping fundamentalist and literal mindedness, the loss of the deep folk tradition that was part of our ardent belonging, and other unfortunate (and often online) matters are now dividing us so completely. I have spent time on both sides the divide and, like Rosemary, maintain hope to enable the bringing together of all people of faith and good will. I am still glad that we both have kept the doors open, for the hospitable hearth is still the place of magical communion.
It's always so nice to meet a kindred spirit.
Another wonderful essay. I so much agree with everything you say here. The loss of contact with nature - which I suffer from as much as any city dweller even though the green world is only 10 minutes away- is sad. How often do I go? Not often enough. The dislocation of our lives from that of the seasons and the earth is truly horrible, but the amazing thing is - it’s still there. I hope we get to meet up one day. We share so much.
I would love it.
Do you make it over here at all?
Not usually. I was invited to give a talk at Cambridge two years ago, but ended up having to do it via Zoom since my mother, who was living with me at the time, was nearing her last days. But you never know! Would you and Caitlin like to come on my podcast? It's not exactly "in the flesh," but I'm sure would have a delightful conversation.
Love to. Let’s see when we can do this.
I loved this ( and the new album). I need to reread the Golden Bough again. It is incumbent upon us to fight for the right to connect with the land. I have been living by the Celtic Calendar for a good three years now and people just know I am the weird horse and dog woman ,the mad one who harvests under the full moon and forages at certain times. My grandfather taught me that God ( or Goddess or whomever)including the spirits of all the trees and of nature,the water,the air, it all the " Cathedral of Trees. Nature . The animals live it if given the chance. It has brought a sense of peace and purpose to what we do.
P
I love this in so many ways. ❤
I’m pretty sure you’ll enjoy this:
https://europeanconservative.com/articles/essay/the-theurgy-of-deer-stalking/
One of the best things I've read in ages.
Thanks!
The longing, aching need for the bejewelled forgotten festivities of Catholicism will forever be lamented by my earth-bound heart. The sound of the city’s sextons’ bell can be deaf to my ears when I return once again to the land. Like cathys’ voice across the moors, it’s calling me home to dance, dine and dig for the divine. Soon ….
Thank you Michael!
Thank you! Your words bring joy to my heart.
Thank you, Michael, for this. I always get a lot of nourishment from your writing.
I was saying to someone recently that I feel like I live in a land without stories. Maybe I just need to listen more closely.
America was settled so quickly that the Imagination of the new arrivals never had time to acclimate. The stories are still out there.
.....you make my heart sing.
❤❤❤
I loved this, Michael. In the last couple of days I've been reading Alexander Schmemann's "Introduction to Liturgical Theology" -- excellent, as usual -- and in it he unpacks the Constantinian shift, as experienced liturgically. One of the things that had to happen was the imperial church had to embrace, reshape, and fill every dimension of the natural cycles of life -- i.e. "paganism." And so it was with Constantine that the eschatological liturgical cycles of the church were married to the natural cycles of everyday, grounded, local spiritual experience (paganism). And, reading this, I kept thinking: But why, when I was Orthodox for 13 years, did I not then experience the cycles of the church as integrating me more deeply with the cycles of the Earth? (I experienced it rather as a kind of self-enclosed virtual reality). I think one of the answers to that question is in exactly what you say here: The stories, the cycles, must come from the land itself -- the land here; the land we're living on. Of course, in urban Orthodoxy, it doesn't matter how beautiful the liturgy is, it's not going to reconnect you to an Earth you can scarcely see or touch anyway. But also, if you import a vast liturgical system from Byzantium of a thousand years ago, it's not going to breathe in the same way here in American lands, which have their own way about them. There is no such thing as universal religion, if religion means binding us together, and binding us to the living forces which give us life--which are always local, just like our bodies are. Yet, we need structure; also -- and especially when we are as sick as we are right now -- we can't start from scratch. So we need a pretty airy, breezy but still strong, sharp, resilient structure to help us, but we can't just make that structure up, we need to find it; we need to receive it. So...? (That's my question)
That is, indeed, the question.
Wait, we're not going to just figure it right here? ;) I love being alive in this time of dissolution and rebirth, finding people like you and the other people in this space, listening hard, pushing hard, for the new [---nameless mystery----] emerging.
The American expression - made me think of the old Appalachian culture as being a Christian based one immersed in nature. The book “Braiding Sweetgrass” has some references to that.
I do wish that the Orthodox would fix their calendar; Easter landing halfway between spring and summer (as it did this year) is frankly bizarre. Easter is supposed to be by the vernal equinox, just as Christmas is by the winter solstice.
I'd love to see what happens if you go into an Orthodox church and say the word "calendar" and the word "fix" in the same sentence ;) I still don't understand how either West or East calculates Easter, or why neither one is obviously tied to Passover, but vernal equinox would indeed be the logical, straightforward day, wouldn't it. However, I did notice that Orthodox Easter -- at least in Minnesota -- coincided, finally, with the first blooming of flowers (usually there's still snow on the ground).
As an American Orthodox without ethnic ties to the old countries of Orthodoxy, I can sympathize with your wrestling, Graham. Although this is not much of an answer, I do think one can find similar folk elements in the Orthodox world. The celebration of St John's Day (or Ivan Kupala) in the Slavic world is one example. The rural Greeks had and still have a relationship with fairies and other nature spirits like the Irish. Both peoples suffered under a foreign yoke for almost the exact same period of time and both, in response, developed an extremely vigorous folk life, which thrived without the domination of a so-called "high culture," both societies having been prevented from developing centers of higher education for centuries. Remote parts of Greece, for example in the Morea, were not Christianized until the fourteenth century. Patrick Leigh Fermor's books on Greece give a rich picture of this culture, as do the books by Juliet du Boulay on Greek mountain villagers. All this to say that there are connections between the byzantine liturgical cycle and the earth, mediated by folk customs — though these were often deliberately dropped or forgotten when Orthodox peoples came to America.
But all this probably does not help you much, because the question you seem to be asking is, 'how do we recover those lost threads of folk connection between the liturgical life and the world outside the church building, the world of seasons, cycles, stars, and growing things?' Or, perhaps you are asking whether America needs its own folk customs, its own celebrations that arise from this soil. Either way, I think we cannot look to the official, institutional church to give this to us. What to do in light of this is, as Michael said, the question.