A Pagan Ritual Prayer Book (6 page)

Pressed further, changing gestures become dance. Dance can be a prayer in and of itself, an expression of emotions, an offering of beauty, a form of nonverbal communication. Dance does not lend itself well to spoken prayers, but prayers recited silently while dancing can be effective. In group prayers, one or more people can dance while prayers are spoken or sung by others. Alternatively, one person can say a prayer while everyone else dances. Very simple dances can work with simple chants.

Prayers can be spontaneous, read, or memorized. There is a certain bias among modern Pagans toward spontaneous prayers. We are supposed to be creative and inspired. The feeling is that if we “speak from the heart” all will be well. To be perfectly frank, however, we aren't more creative than most people until we have trained ourselves to be. I'm sure we have all suffered through halting performances of rambling spontaneous prayers from people “speaking from the heart.”

As you write and perform more and more prayers, you will get better at spontaneous praying, just as jazz musicians first learn their scales and then learn to improvise. I'm not saying that your early spontaneous prayers will be ineffective (out of tune). They may simply be less beautiful and less precise than those you may eventually be able to compose. But I am
definitely
saying that, to be good at improvising, you need to learn your scales.

Previously written prayers can be memorized or read, and may be written by yourself or by others. Besides being easier to write well (editing is a wonderful thing), prepared prayers allow you to concentrate on performance rather than production. This allows you to think about tone of voice, pauses, gestures, and other stylistic touches that add to the beauty of the performance. Don't underestimate the value of preplanning and rehearsing these touches.

Some people have problems memorizing. I know my own memorization skills have decreased over time. Someone reciting an insufficiently memorized prayer will stumble over words, pause at inappropriate points to remember, go back to forgotten points automatically, or without thinking say, “wait,” before redoing a poorly recited part. A poorly memorized prayer isn't as good as one read well.

Reading prayers is okay, and even expected on certain occasions. Weddings and funerals that are attended by non-Pagans are examples. We have become so used to an officiant reading from a book that people may take a memorized prayer less seriously (and a spontaneous one not seriously at all). It is very important to read a prayer over a few times before the ritual to become familiar with it. Otherwise you may find yourself tripping over the words.

One of the great strengths of prepared prayers is that they can be repeated, which can have great psychological effects. It's especially nice for prayers for comfort; familiarity can bring peace all on its own. Also, each time a prayer is said you may discover new meanings in it, new connections with the divine, new understandings of the deity you are addressing. This can be true even if you have written the prayer yourself. You may have touched on an aspect of the divine you had not understood, but which now, through the continued reflection brought about by repetition, becomes clear to you.

This is one of the functions of the extreme form of repetition known as mantras. These are prayers, usually short (sometimes just the name of a deity, even a single syllable) repeated many times, usually rhythmically, sometimes with motions like rocking to bring the words into the body. Mantras are also chanted, or even sung. They may be petitions or they may be meant to reinforce either some aspect of the cosmos or one's connection with it: “Peace, peace, peace.” They may also function well as praise: “Glory to Ga
e
a.”

In some traditions, such as Hinduism (whence the word “mantra,” meaning “tool for thought,” comes), the literal meaning of the words may not be thought to matter. It is instead the sound that is thought to reflect divine reality in some way. An extreme form of this is found in Zoroastrianism, where one and a half hours of a twohour
yasna
ritual is taken up by chanting in Avestan, a language incompletely known to the priests, and even somewhat opaque to modern linguists. A mantra like this is extremely difficult to write, however; the connection between sound and the sacred was worked out over millennia by many people. You are unlikely to stumble upon one in the course of your prayer writing. If you want to use a mantra in this way, I recommend working with one already developed/discovered.

Prayers are often accompanied by offerings. These have traditionally included animal sacrifices, libations, food, incense, and just about anything else. Because of its importance in ancient times and because what is subtle in other kinds of offerings is clear in it, I will begin with sacrifice.

The why of sacrifice has been argued over by scholars for many years with no resolution. I think one reason for this is that scholars have seen sacrifice through the lens of their own ideology, the culture they've studied the most, or their own culture. A Freudian will find a Freudian meaning, an anthropologist who spent his career studying the Nuer will apply Nuer theology, and a member of PETA will find the whole thing offensive.

But the real problem is that they tend to view sacrifice as a single thing. It is one only in the sense that a raised hand is one thing. Is it raised in greeting? To strike? To swear an oath? There is no one meaning to an upraised hand, and there is no one meaning to sacrifice; there are several.

One of these is that something is being given to the sacred. This is the origin of the word “sacrifice,” which means to “make sacred.” This is usually seen as giving something up, and that's how we tend to use the word in everyday speech. A religious sacrifice, however, is not so much a giving
up
as a giving
to
. It isn't, “aren't I great for depriving myself,” but “isn't it great that the deities are getting what they want?”

The giving by ancient Pagans was not one-sided, however. Just as people gave gifts to the deities, so the deities were expected to give some back.

Something like this on a human scale was found in many societies, such as early Germanic ones. There, warriors gave service to their chieftains, who in turn gave them riches, to the point where “ring-giver” became a kenning for “chieftain.” A significant aspect of this is that the socially superior person was expected to give more than he or she received. This was how they maintained their status, and was a form of
noblesse oblige
.

This operated on the divine scale, too. The deities were seen as superior, and were therefore expected to return more than what was offered. The sacrifice of a single ram might be expected to increase the fertility of an entire flock. This theory could lead to a certain amount of “manipulation” of the deities by varying the size of the offering. If a single bull was expected to bring certain blessings, how much more would the Greek
hecatomb
, in which 100 animals were sacrificed? A certain one-upsmanship was initiated, in which the gods, because of their superior status, would give greater gifts than they received.

This is sacrifice in terms of reciprocity and hospitality. These can be seen as the bases for all relationships. Bonds are established and maintained through reciprocal giving. We have preserved some of the ancient rules of hospitality in our own culture. I invite you to my house for dinner, and now you have an obligation to invite me to yours. If I'm always the one doing the inviting, our chance for friendship will fizzle out.

It's the same with the gods. We offer to them, and the gods have a social obligation to repay us. Since they can't invite us over for dinner, they repay our invitation in other ways: prosperity, health, success, etc. By this exchange we become friends with the gods.

This leads us to another meaning of sacrifice, a shared meal. Part of the sacrifice was burned as the gods' share. This was sometimes symbolically important parts of the animal like the heart. It usually included fat and bones.

The gods' share may seem poor, consisting primarily of the inedible portion, as if we were giving them trash. But the gods had their own food. What delighted them was the smoke of the sacrifice. And what parts of the animal burn best? The fat and the bones. The lesson here is that what you serve your guest isn't what
you
like; it's what
they
like.

The other parts were cooked and eaten by the worshipper. The result was a sacred barbecue. It was a shared meal to which the gods were invited, obligating them to return the favor. Sometimes it was the other way round; the gods had already given good things, putting the obligation of reciprocity on the recipients, so the worshippers were throwing a thank-you party in their honor.

Yet another reason the ancients performed sacrifice was the belief that it strengthened the gods. The gods literally fed on the sacrifice, either the smoke or the accompanying prayers. This belief was widespread, found in the Indo-European world and the Near East, for instance. The gods in some way required people. This implies a very close reciprocal relationship.

Often the important part of this kind of sacrifice was the blood. After all, there is the saying that “blood is life.” That is perhaps why in some cultures the blood was poured out on the altar as a libation of sorts, an offering of life to increase the life power of the gods.

Worldwide, offerings to the Dead and to those associated with death (maleficent spirits, and sometimes those connected with the earth) were usually given over completely. We don't
want
to be connected intimately with these spirits, except perhaps on one feast day of the Dead each year, after which they are sent on their way.

Sacrifices are not generally practical these days except for Pagan farmers. If nothing else, they create bad press. This is a shame, but understandable. People think that sacrifice is obsolete, and that killing in honor of a deity is distasteful. There is also a concern for the suffering of the animal. But why should a religious practice become obsolete?
How
could a religious practice become obsolete? If the gods aren't obsolete, why should one of their favorite forms of worship be?

People have become distant enough from the sources of their food that killing seems distasteful. It is certainly not something we use to honor someone. This is not a new idea; it was found in numerous Pagan societies, and led to the abandonment of sacrifice in some. I would ask, however, how honoring it is to an animal to use its meat but deny its death. And can beings as tied up with life and death as the deities are find death distasteful?

In fact, it's the belief that sacrificed animals suffered that is the real problem. And that belief is flat wrong. Although it may be legitimate to be bothered by the animal's death, it was vital in the ancient world that the animal not suffer. In fact, if the animal showed any distress it could not be sacrificed, and if it suffered the sacrifice didn't count. An ancient sacrificial animal was shown far more consideration and suffered far less distress than animals in modern slaughterhouses. Such a sacrifice should arouse no more distaste than
kosher
or
halaal
butchering, and far less than the unsanctified way in which most food animals are slaughtered. Nonetheless, we find ourselves where we find ourselves.