As the preamble to the Charge of the Star Goddess continues, it brings up a central feature of Pagan life: ritual.
Not all Pagans are ritualistic, true; I’ve met a few that took part in gatherings and message lists largely for the philosophy, whether the environmental focus, the embrace of gender equality and diversity, or the freedom given to individual experience and inquiry. And, truth be told, there are a lot of “party Pagans,” as we call them: People who come for the hippie culture that pervades most corners of our community, and the chance to participate in drum circles and smoke weed.
Of course, not all of Paganism is liberal, which I use both in the political sense and in its larger implications of generosity and openness to experience. There are dismal corners of racism and nationalism, as there are in many faith paths. In my own lengthy experience, these dismal corners seem far from the patchouli-scented, hippie-skirted norm, in which people of all gender presentations wear the skirts and the patchouli. Conservatives, I imagine, must feel pretty uncomfortable with most of modern Pagan culture, with the exception of the libertarian set, who are (somewhat grudgingly) tolerated.
Most Pagans, though, are ritualistic. We keep candle-, incense- and crystal-sellers in business, as well as authors who explore new methodologies of ritual creation. Our religion is, quite simply, something we do and not something we believe.
Our houses and apartments are often cluttered with jars of herbs, statuary, strange tools and books, books, books. When possible, we create designated spaces for ritual, whether a backyard henge or my own ritual room, where I keep my desk-size main altar. (I also have multiple other altar spaces in the dining room.)
Perhaps that’s why the Queen of All the Wise – or the Queen of All Witcheries, as the Goddess names herself in the Doreen Valiente original – gets right down to ritual, after introducing herself with a few of her names.
Wheels within wheels
When do we perform ritual? The Charge gives some advice.
Whenever you have need of anything. The Gods and spirits are there for you, regardless of the ritual calendar. Certainly, this can refer to prayer and Pagans do pray, but not the self-abnegating, begging sort of prayers that seem common to Christian paths. But this clause can be seen as a direct referent to spellcraft: a focused ritual working to achieve a designated end, such as healing or a new job.
Once a month, and better it be when the moon is full. The Charge is a central text in Wicca, which is traditionally practiced in small groups called “covens.” Covens traditionally meet on esbats, working rites held most often on the full moon, considered a powerful time for magic. Overall, though, the Charge advises us to practice ritual with some regularity, and preferably during periods in the nature world that are suffused with power and mystery.
And eight times more in the year. This clause isn’t included in Starhawk’s version of the Charge, which I am linking to, but is mentioned in other versions I have seen. In traditional Wicca, these eight holidays are called sabbats – a name deliberately borrowed from the Witch trials of yore. Obviously, medieval tales of naked, frolicking Witches aren’t survivals of Neolithic religion as once claimed, but they have offered inspiration to people looking for a different way to relate to the sacred, to nature and the Gods, one that embraces both pleasure and female power.
Ancient cultures in the Pagan world certainly did have ritual calendars in time with seasons and agricultural cycles. While these calendars bear cross-cultural similarities, they weren’t the same, just as natural cycles and harvest calendars aren’t the same from place to place. The modern Pagan calendar combines the cross-quarter holidays of the ancient Celts – Imbolc, Bealtain, Lúnasa and Samhain – with the solstices and equinoxes.
While it originated with Wicca, this eightfold holiday schedule has expanded to many, if not most, corners of Paganism; the Druidic tradition I practice uses it, for example. Why the popularity?
My take: Spacing the holidays evenly throughout the year allows us to center ourselves in the great Wheel of time and season, to notice the natural world and its impact on the cycles of the soul. In Paganism, sacred time consists of wheels within wheels: The wheel of the sun and seasons (the eightfold year), the wheel of the moon and tides (the lunar cycle), and the wheel of self (the cycle of day).
In my own practice, I follow the solar wheel with eight Druidic rites, centered on Celtic gods, with the Deities Du Jour shifting in accordance with the season. These rites center on the larger, cosmic trends of which my individual soul and life is merely the smallest part; in them, I connect with the larger divine. The eight High Days usually involve a fair amount of preparation, fancy robes and an hourlong ritual with multiple offerings; they’re events of the highest order.
I also do a weekly rite that consists of what is often called “Shadow work”: the healing of the self, in the effort to achieve my own Sovereignty. Aligned with the phases of the moon, this work comes to me through the Sisterhood of Avalon. You can consider my High Day rituals to be aligned with Sky, or spirit; my lunar rituals are aligned with the element of Sea – emotions, the heart.
I also have a cycle of Earth, aligned with the land, the body, the physical world. This includes my periodic Eleusinian rites, most often consisting of prayers as I work in my garden, occasionally as rites aligned with the natural cycles of my particular spit of land. Recently, I have returned to my Clann Brighid work, in which three sets of prayers are said at morning, noon and evening; I’m not always good about saying all three, but I do find that they center me in my day and connect me deeply with my matron goddess (Brighid).
If this sounds like a lot, it is. I’m not perfect, hate to say. I have never missed a High Day since the age of 12 and, since joining the Sisterhood a few years ago, have been remarkably consistent with my lunar rites. That’s a new development; I tried coming up with lunar rituals prior to my involvement in SOA, but they didn’t stick, largely because the focus didn’t exactly sing to me. I was better about that when I ran an actual grove, though.
My daily work – the prayers and whatnot – can vary significantly. I always do something: the daily poem, uttering impromptu prayers to the sun, moon or the river. My particular spiritual path has shifted focus throughout my life, but has always guided and guarded me, in whatever shape it takes.
In some secret place
You shall assemble in some secret place.
Paganism is often considered occult and, while I don’t like the word, it has proved true in the literal sense: The word means “hidden.” And we’ve had to be hidden. When Gerald Gardner and his compatriots first formulated Wicca in the 1940s, Witchcraft was literally forbidden by law. For a lot of modern Pagan history, we have assembled in secret places because we don’t want to be harassed, jailed or even killed.
While harassment remains, Pagan religions are largely out in the open now. We don’t have the infrastructure of “recognized religions,” such as legacy properties; while we have churches and official organizations – ADF, of which I am a part, is one – these churches rarely, if ever, have physical buildings. Pagans typically meet in small groups, sometimes in public places such as parks, but most often in people’s homes or apartments.
Or not. Most Pagans are solitaries, meaning that they conduct rituals by themselves. I am currently a solitary, although I have been a member of groves and a coven in the past. On a practical level, this is the plight of the minority religion: There aren’t a lot of us, so there aren’t a lot of opportunities to get together, unless you’re willing to travel.
But many of us are solitaries for other reasons. Most Pagans are Wiccan, but I am not; there are few Druids in my area, for example. One local Druid I know of is a part of OBOD, not ADF; another is a part of ADF, but his work schedule makes it impossible for us to get together. Other folks don’t have cars, and I got rather sick of running the carpool when I had the grove. Think of it this way: You’re, say, a Methodist in a land of Catholics, and the only other Methodist works nights. You know a Presbyterian and an Episcopalian, though. So what do you do?
Unlike Christianity, most forms of Paganism don’t require or particularly privilege group ceremony. (There are exceptions, such as traditionalist Wicca.) So most of us conduct our own rites in some secret place (often our homes, sometimes a hidden area in a park), while secretly yearning for co-religionists. That allows us to discover how the Wheels within Wheels shape our individual lives, but it can get a bit lonely – even with our online churches.
“Secret place,” however, also points to another truth: We don’t need public recognition of our faith path for our rites to be meaningful. The point isn’t to put on a show or demonstrate our piety to the masses; it’s to connect with the Gods, the Nature Spirits and the Ancestors where we are right now.
The Queen of All the Wise
The goal, according to the Charge, is to adore the spirit of me who is Queen of All the Wise. I have also seen the word “celebrate” used instead of “adore,” but either will do.
Adore is a Latin term meaning “pray to,” while celebrate – similarly Latinate – means “assemble with the intent of honoring.” We get together with the intent of honoring or praying to the Goddess. “Adore,” however, has come in modern times to mean something like “fervently love,” and that’s what I think of when I read these words in the Charge. We truly love the Goddess in all her varied forms and create rituals as a demonstration of this love.
Here, she calls herself Queen of All the Wise: She is the leader of the knowing ones, the ones who see into the heart of the multiverse. Her queendom isn’t of dominion or force; her sovereignty comes from knowledge. As priests and priestesses, we are called to learn and to know, to be wise.
It’s a far different vision than religions that exhort us to obedience and submission.
When we have need of anything, she is there – in the secret places of nature, and in our hearts and souls. We can ask her questions, learn from her, for she loves and fosters wisdom. She is Queen of All the Wise – and invites us to join her as the wise ones, learning, observing and asking questions.
White Cat Grove 
5 thoughts on “Queen of All the Wise: On the ritual nature of Paganism”