Today in central Massachusetts we had beautiful, if rather hot weather for the Lammas ritual and potluck held by Asphodel, the Pagan church I belong to. For those who aren’t familiar, in modern Neo-Paganism, Lammas (from an Anglo-Saxon word meaning “loaf mass”) is commonly associated with the grain harvest and thus, with the making of beer and bread. Often at this time, Pagans will pay homage to the gods of the harvest and of (agricultural) sacrifice. Or they may simply honor the Earth as the giver of plenty, as this day used to mark the first major harvest for those in northerly-to-temperate climes.
As part of today’s ritual, those of us in attendance each took three cut-out paper wheat stalks and on them named things we need to let go of or quit doing, but have ignored because they aren’t life-or-death (no pun intended) matters. These sorts of sacrifices are often overlooked in favor of the big, obvious and dramatic ones — how many people, when asked in a ritual context what kind of sacrifice they feel they ought to make, will answer something like “stop going to McDonald’s so much” or “telling jokes at inappropriate times”? After everyone had written theirs down, a person dressed as Death came around and randomly snipped off one of each person’s three, which ended up as the thing that person would be bound to give up this year (for the record, mine was “caring too much about other people’s drama.”) Then we took the snipped-off “wheat stalks” and burned them in a ritual fire.
This is the sort of thing that a monastic can really get into — being mindful enough to name the things you need to lose that aren’t necessarily life-changing issues, and being willing to sacrifice at least one of them. It might surprise some people that a monk or a nun would need to do this along with everyone else during a holiday ritual — after all, aren’t we supposed to be working on self-knowledge and combating our weaknesses all the time? Well, yes, but monastics are human too, and whether one lives in the peace of a cloister or interacts more with the outside world, there are always things that come up, from within and/or from one’s interactions with others, that need attending to. Just when you think you’ve worked through all your baggage, another suitcase comes down the ramp. Spiritual growth is an ongoing process, not a goal that, once met, one never has to consider again. And whether one is a monastic or an ordinary worshiper, being self-aware enough to see one’s flaws or weaknesses, and then willing to allow the powers that be to choose the one most necessary to improve, is a powerful act.
I hope everyone reading this has had a happy Lammas/Lughnasadh (or Candlemas/Imbolc if you live in the Southern Hemisphere.) Hail to Frey the Golden, and to all the gods and goddesses of grain, bread and beer. Hail to our ancestors who tilled the soil and to those who work it now so that we may continue to survive.
