Service, in the context of Pagan religion, is often couched strictly in terms of “service to the gods.” What that means, exactly, is going to be different for each person who uses that term. Some, either via divination or through actual communication, might receive explicit instructions on how the Holy Ones wish to be served by them. Others without access to this sort of communication may choose to serve their gods in ways that they feel the gods would find pleasing. Most of us serve the gods through ritual, where we seek to honor and connect with the powers that be, through making offerings and sacrifices as devotional gifts or expressions of troth, or through prayer and prause, either solitary or with a group. Many of us also support causes that we feel our gods would approve of — environmentalism and social justice being two popular favorites. But there is another kind of service that seldom gets discussed — that of service to one’s community.
I do not believe that I can serve my gods without also serving my community and the people in it. Nor can I serve the people without at the same time doing service to my gods. These duties are one and the same. This is not because I’m more spiritually enlightened than anybody else, far from it. It’s only because I feel quite strongly that when I am asked to perform a task by my gods, there is often some underlying reason that has nothing to do with me. After all, They care about other people, too, even if They don’t necessarily show it in ways we can immediately appreciate. And while Loki in particular is admittedly not always concerned with frith or fulfilling the greater good, in general I believe that when I am told to do something, it is because They have other people’s benefit in mind. “It’s not about you” is one of the first lessons anybody who performs religious (or secular) service must learn.
As a priest, I feel it’s my duty to open a door, so to speak, and point the way through so that seekers who choose to enter might come to a place of spiritual fulfillment in their own time. This means not only living as an example of someone trying their best to deepen their faith and develop a solid religious practice, but helping other people discover what sort of relationship with the gods, ancestors and wights might be required of them, or how to pursue the other religious goals they have set for themselves. Not everybody is called to be a servant of the gods, after all, and not everybody is required, as I am, to do whatever They say. (I have to admit, the “living as an example” bit is the hardest one for me. I am hardly a model of spiritual discipline, being easily distracted, sharp-tongued and temperamental, which is not exactly conducive to being the sort of priest I’d like to be.)
As a nun whose primary duty is very much about my personal relationship with my gods, it’s harder to see where service to other people comes into play. Normally, this would include service to a monastic community, as I’d have both elders and fellow novices around me. Since that isn’t the case, I choose to serve my “community” at large — fellow Pagan monastics, whether they’re following a Nordic tradition or not. There are few enough of us as it is that I feel it’s good that we make contact and strive to support one another, regardless of faith. Writing this blog constitutes part of my service to other Pagan or Pagan-friendly monastics…even if it winds up serving merely as a warning to others concerning how not to practice Pagan monastic life, although I hope that won’t be the case!
Service as a monastic value also fulfills a practical need. If you are fortunate enough to find yourself in a position to offer devotion as your primary occupation, you may as well practice some sort of multitasking and be useful to those around you while you contemplate and pray and strive for a connection to the spirits. After all, those dishes aren’t going to wash themselves. And since the gods are often recognizable in the unglamorous world of matter, even the most mundane task can become a holy act.
You can feel a deeper connection to Jord or Nerthus by planting seeds, watering them and caring for them, and watching them sprout and grow before you harvest and witness the plants dying back for the winter. You can understand the dangerous, terrible beauty of a god like Loki when you burn a pile of leaves or deadwood you’ve spent all day accumulating, only to see it consumed in an hour or less. You can feel close to Holda while you scrub your kitchen spotless and light a candle to bless this ordinary yet sacred space you and your family use every single day. You can appreciate Hela’s parsimonious approach to waste when you find blue mold growing inside your fridge with the excess moisture problem (okay, that last one may be too squicky for some people to find evidence of the sacred in…but it’s no less sacred than the seeds, the fire and the kitchen.)
Service keeps our feet on the ground when we otherwise might get so lost in the pursuit of the holy that we forget that we, too, are human and must live in this world like everyone else. In modern Paganism, there is no point to ignoring the physical world in favor of the spiritual, for the two are not as separate as we sometimes fool ourselves into believing. Our ancestors are within and all around us, whether they’re ancestors of blood, spirit or example. Our homes, land, cities and the nonhuman beings that exist alongside us all have spirits. Our gods are present, or at least tangible, in the fury of the storm, the gentle breeze of spring, the clash of battle and the measured cadences of the poet’s voice.
When a monk or nun does worldly work aimed at making life easier for ourselves and others, be it housework, gardening, farm work, a day job, a night job, repairing or building things, keeping records or just agreeing to drive someone across town to the doctor’s office and back, that service is every bit as valuable as spending all day praying or participating in an hours-long ritual. Depending on your point of view, it might even be seen as the hands of the gods giving to Their folk through you, the monastic.
That is the main reason I feel service ought to be a value in my hypothetical tradition and in my own daily practice. The world is a complicated place, and the gods and spirits know things that we do not. Who are we to assume that some task which we find boring, inconvenient or beneath us might not assume greater importance in Their eyes? Granted, it is sometimes hard to see how Their purposes are served by me sweeping the kitchen floor every single day, whether I want to or not, particularly when other friends of mine (who are not monastics) are called to do what I consider more important things. It’s hard to know what kind of an impact, if any, writing this blog is having on other people, or if it will make any difference at all in the long run. But that’s less about whether or not the service itself is worthy and more about having faith.
None of these values I’ve been discussing — faith, mindfulness, service — exist all on their own, after all. They are interconnected in my life as a Pagan nun, and I suspect it might be that way for others as well. And if nothing else, the service I give to Them and to other people help me to become better at serving both. The more I serve, the more fulfilling service becomes.
