Letter of Intent to the Michaelines
Dec. 15th, 2005 10:08 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kellan_the_tabbyPrivate, because I'm a wuss. Might unlock later.
I'm not sure if I'm Christian. I'm not sure if I'm Pagan, or possibly Jewish, or, well, any of the possibilities, and I know there are lots.
I know I'm seeking something. I guess I've been doing that my whole life, though I lost track of it for a long time. When I was a kid, I wanted desperately to believe in something - anything - and the Lutheran church my mother took me to just wasn't doing it. She decided not to have my sister and I baptized as infants, feeling that it ought by rights to be our choice; but when I was ten or so, she had me baptized anyway, even though I told her that I wasn't sure that I really believed.
I remember hoping that the baptism would do something - be this great revelation, somehow give me the faith that I so clearly didn't have. It didn't.
I went to confirmation classes after that, and learned more about the religion my mother had chosen for me. Some of it made sense; some of it really struck me. But a lot of it just seemed silly, or overly complicated. Again, it came time for me to be confirmed, and again I told my mother that I didn't know if it was the right thing for me to do. It's not that she ignored me or blew me off. I think she just couldn't hear me, couldn't understand at all what I was saying, and it simply made no impact on her mind.
So I was confirmed, and I said the things that one says when they're confirmed. Once again I hoped that belief would come with the words, but it didn't, and I realized as I walked back down from the altar that I had, in fact, lied. Not by intent. But I'd said the Creed, said that I believed, when it wasn't true.
I felt pretty awful about that. Looking back, I'm not sure what else I could have done, save to simply refuse to go through with confirmation. Some days I wish I'd done just that. Other days I'm pretty sure that my mom would have made me do it anyway. I was all of twelve and there wasn't a whole lot I could have done to gainsay her.
Still, though, I lied and I've felt pretty wrong about that ever since.
Through high school I read a lot of fantasy novels and started wondering if perhaps this world had some kind of magic as well. I experimented a bit with that. I wonder, sometimes, what would have happened if I'd heard of Wicca at that point in my life.
I got to college and somehow got sucked into a group of born-again Christians. I went to weekly Bible study and made it to services perhaps once a month. They were good, caring people and it was nice to have a place where I felt I could belong. But I realized that their beliefs didn't match mine, and weren't much like what I wanted mine to be if I ever found any. I drifted out of the group, with sadness but no regrets.
My sophomore year I met the man I've since married. In the process of getting to know one another he said 'I'm Wiccan' and I said 'what's that?' The explanation sounded intriguing and I wanted to explore it more. I read the few books he had on the subject, but he was interested neither in any sort of regular practice nor in finding a coven, so that didn't go much of anywhere at the time. I wish now that I'd explored it more on my own, then, when it was new to me, but I just didn't have the self-confidence to do it on my own.
A few years later we found the SCA and a small household which we promptly joined. The leader of the household was half-Ojibwa and claimed to have spent some time on a reservation, learning Native American spirituality and magic. Again, I'd found something I wanted to believe was real.
Well, it took us far too long to figure it out, but the whole situation was far more a cult of personality than anything actually useful. He claimed repeatedly to be able to do Big Magic but somehow we never got to see any of it - the moon was in the wrong phase, he wasn't feeling well, he'd just done something big the night before and needed to recharge for a few days...excuses, all of them. I came out of it a few years later, hurt, doubting, and skeptical of any sort of magic, spirituality or belief in anything beyond the physical.
That lasted a good long while.
Maybe two years ago I started thinking about it again - religion, spirituality, the need (or ability, for that matter) to believe in something more than just what I can see and touch. It might have been at a Clam Chowder concert, where they sang a song called Desert Pete:
You've got to prime the pump. You must have faith and believe.
You've got to give of yourself 'fore you're worthy to receive.
Drink all the water you can hold. Wash your face, cool your feet.
But leave the bottle full for others. Thank you kindly, Desert Pete.
It might have happened while talking to some new friends of mine who were strong in their belief - one a traditional Protestant Christian, one a convert to Judaism, one a sort of mix of Christianity and Paganism and Taoism. The lady who converted to Judaism said something that struck me:
But how to proceed? I wasn't even sure I believed in God, after all.
I did what any engineer would do: I decided to experiment. Specifically, I decided that I would hypothesize the existence of God (as described by Judaism), pray as sincerely as I could for guidance, and see what happened. I'm not going to get all mystical and stuff on you here, but let me just say that I saw results. They could be results that are explained away by psychology 101, or they could be something else. I chose to explore the something else. And I found that the more I did in the way of prayer and basic observance (and continuing to explore), the more sure I was that there was something there.
Seemed to make a lot of sense. I experimented with a Pagan Book of Hours, but while the concept itself seemed sound, the prayers were very ... fluffy. I just can't pray with any sincerity when I'm giggling. It was in here somewhere that I started being interested in the Order of Saint Michael, as well, but given my earlier experiences with Christianity, I wasn't sure it was right for me either.
I've been thinking about Christianity, though, and I've known for years that nearly all of my issues with it aren't the religion itself, it's some of the people who claim to follow it. I've had a tough time separating the two in my head, I'll admit. It's getting easier. I still don't know if I believe in Jesus, or the Resurrection, but I've gotten to the point where I don't just dismiss them out of hand, either. And I can see a lot of truth in Christianity, now, and some of its traditions and rituals really resonate for me.
I should say here that I'm currently experimenting with Paganism. I also want to experiment with Christianity. I plan to find a local church that suits me and try going at least a few times a month. I'm saying morning and evening prayers from a number of traditions, including a set I wrote myself (of which I'm ridiculously proud in a small-child-with-a-drawing-hung-on-the-fridge kind of way). I don't know where I'm going to wind up, and I'm not concerned where it is as long as it's a place that's good for me. I don't want to dismiss anything that might be the Right Thing For Me out of hand.
I think I need people who are on a similar path to talk to and work with. I think I need some sort of structure, even a fairly unstructured one. I like what I've read of the Order of Saint Michael, and I like the people I've met who are involved. I don't know - I can't know without trying - but I think the Order would be a good thing for me.
So after a lot of false starts, indecision, occasional doubt and general waffling, here I am.
--
[edit: unlocked April 2007 for linking purposes]
I'm not sure if I'm Christian. I'm not sure if I'm Pagan, or possibly Jewish, or, well, any of the possibilities, and I know there are lots.
I know I'm seeking something. I guess I've been doing that my whole life, though I lost track of it for a long time. When I was a kid, I wanted desperately to believe in something - anything - and the Lutheran church my mother took me to just wasn't doing it. She decided not to have my sister and I baptized as infants, feeling that it ought by rights to be our choice; but when I was ten or so, she had me baptized anyway, even though I told her that I wasn't sure that I really believed.
I remember hoping that the baptism would do something - be this great revelation, somehow give me the faith that I so clearly didn't have. It didn't.
I went to confirmation classes after that, and learned more about the religion my mother had chosen for me. Some of it made sense; some of it really struck me. But a lot of it just seemed silly, or overly complicated. Again, it came time for me to be confirmed, and again I told my mother that I didn't know if it was the right thing for me to do. It's not that she ignored me or blew me off. I think she just couldn't hear me, couldn't understand at all what I was saying, and it simply made no impact on her mind.
So I was confirmed, and I said the things that one says when they're confirmed. Once again I hoped that belief would come with the words, but it didn't, and I realized as I walked back down from the altar that I had, in fact, lied. Not by intent. But I'd said the Creed, said that I believed, when it wasn't true.
I felt pretty awful about that. Looking back, I'm not sure what else I could have done, save to simply refuse to go through with confirmation. Some days I wish I'd done just that. Other days I'm pretty sure that my mom would have made me do it anyway. I was all of twelve and there wasn't a whole lot I could have done to gainsay her.
Still, though, I lied and I've felt pretty wrong about that ever since.
Through high school I read a lot of fantasy novels and started wondering if perhaps this world had some kind of magic as well. I experimented a bit with that. I wonder, sometimes, what would have happened if I'd heard of Wicca at that point in my life.
I got to college and somehow got sucked into a group of born-again Christians. I went to weekly Bible study and made it to services perhaps once a month. They were good, caring people and it was nice to have a place where I felt I could belong. But I realized that their beliefs didn't match mine, and weren't much like what I wanted mine to be if I ever found any. I drifted out of the group, with sadness but no regrets.
My sophomore year I met the man I've since married. In the process of getting to know one another he said 'I'm Wiccan' and I said 'what's that?' The explanation sounded intriguing and I wanted to explore it more. I read the few books he had on the subject, but he was interested neither in any sort of regular practice nor in finding a coven, so that didn't go much of anywhere at the time. I wish now that I'd explored it more on my own, then, when it was new to me, but I just didn't have the self-confidence to do it on my own.
A few years later we found the SCA and a small household which we promptly joined. The leader of the household was half-Ojibwa and claimed to have spent some time on a reservation, learning Native American spirituality and magic. Again, I'd found something I wanted to believe was real.
Well, it took us far too long to figure it out, but the whole situation was far more a cult of personality than anything actually useful. He claimed repeatedly to be able to do Big Magic but somehow we never got to see any of it - the moon was in the wrong phase, he wasn't feeling well, he'd just done something big the night before and needed to recharge for a few days...excuses, all of them. I came out of it a few years later, hurt, doubting, and skeptical of any sort of magic, spirituality or belief in anything beyond the physical.
That lasted a good long while.
Maybe two years ago I started thinking about it again - religion, spirituality, the need (or ability, for that matter) to believe in something more than just what I can see and touch. It might have been at a Clam Chowder concert, where they sang a song called Desert Pete:
You've got to prime the pump. You must have faith and believe.
You've got to give of yourself 'fore you're worthy to receive.
Drink all the water you can hold. Wash your face, cool your feet.
But leave the bottle full for others. Thank you kindly, Desert Pete.
It might have happened while talking to some new friends of mine who were strong in their belief - one a traditional Protestant Christian, one a convert to Judaism, one a sort of mix of Christianity and Paganism and Taoism. The lady who converted to Judaism said something that struck me:
But how to proceed? I wasn't even sure I believed in God, after all.
I did what any engineer would do: I decided to experiment. Specifically, I decided that I would hypothesize the existence of God (as described by Judaism), pray as sincerely as I could for guidance, and see what happened. I'm not going to get all mystical and stuff on you here, but let me just say that I saw results. They could be results that are explained away by psychology 101, or they could be something else. I chose to explore the something else. And I found that the more I did in the way of prayer and basic observance (and continuing to explore), the more sure I was that there was something there.
Seemed to make a lot of sense. I experimented with a Pagan Book of Hours, but while the concept itself seemed sound, the prayers were very ... fluffy. I just can't pray with any sincerity when I'm giggling. It was in here somewhere that I started being interested in the Order of Saint Michael, as well, but given my earlier experiences with Christianity, I wasn't sure it was right for me either.
I've been thinking about Christianity, though, and I've known for years that nearly all of my issues with it aren't the religion itself, it's some of the people who claim to follow it. I've had a tough time separating the two in my head, I'll admit. It's getting easier. I still don't know if I believe in Jesus, or the Resurrection, but I've gotten to the point where I don't just dismiss them out of hand, either. And I can see a lot of truth in Christianity, now, and some of its traditions and rituals really resonate for me.
I should say here that I'm currently experimenting with Paganism. I also want to experiment with Christianity. I plan to find a local church that suits me and try going at least a few times a month. I'm saying morning and evening prayers from a number of traditions, including a set I wrote myself (of which I'm ridiculously proud in a small-child-with-a-drawing-hung-on-the-fridge kind of way). I don't know where I'm going to wind up, and I'm not concerned where it is as long as it's a place that's good for me. I don't want to dismiss anything that might be the Right Thing For Me out of hand.
I think I need people who are on a similar path to talk to and work with. I think I need some sort of structure, even a fairly unstructured one. I like what I've read of the Order of Saint Michael, and I like the people I've met who are involved. I don't know - I can't know without trying - but I think the Order would be a good thing for me.
So after a lot of false starts, indecision, occasional doubt and general waffling, here I am.
--
[edit: unlocked April 2007 for linking purposes]
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-05-23 03:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-23 05:02 am (UTC)Are you thinking about joining the Order?
no subject
Date: 2007-05-23 10:59 pm (UTC)