Homogenized Heathenry?

I suppose it’s human nature to want everything to fit into neat little boxes; to desire a definite dogma, or system, that defines our lives. I mean, even cats and dogs do it: they crave routine. But should we really want our faith to ever just be routine? And is there any historical basis for such a brand of homogenized Heathenry in the first place?

Let’s take a look at that word, homogenized:

1. To blend diverse elements into a mixture that is the same throughout
2. To make uniform in structure or composition throughout

One can’t spit in the Heathen pond nowadays without hitting some new organization, claiming to have the “official stance” on what it means to be Heathen. In some twisted notion of “Heathen orthodoxy”, these groups put forth a diverse group of elements, and then try to put them all together via some weird method, not unlike a “religious blender”, and bring them out on the other side as an easy-to-swallow “Heathen smoothie” that is uniform in its structure and composition. One toe stepped out of those carefully drawn lines in the sand, and everyone starts screaming “you’re doing it wrong!” But is there even the remotest element of historicity in such attempts?

The answer to that question is an inarguable no!

In the time of the Ancestors, the Scandinavian and Germanic peoples lived in scattered tribes which ranged from the Norse Lands (inclusive of Denmark, Sweden, Norway, and some might argue portions of Finland) all the way down to the Baltic Sea, and across Europe as far as present-day France and even the British Isles. In many of these areas, yes, tribes were organized into loose confederacies, “ruled” (or, at the very least, brought together towards common goals) by a jarl (earl) or even the notion of a king. Within these scattered tribes existed likewise scattered (and, therefore, highly varied) notions of the Gods and Cosmology, ideals of Virtue and ethics, and methods of ritual observance. In other words, religion/faith was practiced along tribal lines. If a person from the Norse Lands travelled across Europe to what is currently the British Isles or even France, and found the people there observing very different rites, and presenting Odin in a different light, there wouldn’t have been the shock and surprise which we encounter today. In short, they wouldn’t have told their far away “cousins”: “Hey, you’re doing it wrong.” Instead, there would’ve been dialogue: “Dude, why do you do it that way? We do it this way….”

Don’t get it twisted: our present-day Heathen organizations could (and can) very much be likewise understood along tribal lines. Where the historical issues come in is when someone takes it upon themselves to announce in a crowd: “you’re doing it wrong!” I am, myself, a very proud member of The Troth. What I have encountered there, unlike in many other groups to which I have attempted to belong, is a definite willingness towards the more historically apt dialogue: “Dude, why do you do it that way? I do it this way….”

I think a huge source of this ongoing issue lies in the reliance upon the Eddas and Sagas by most practicing Heathens. Again: don’t get me wrong, here. The Eddas and Sagas are a valuable historical source; they can provide answers (or not) to many questions which archaeology and anthropology have a hard time answering. There’s just one problem: they didn’t exist during the time when our Ancestors were actually practicing! Historically, our faith was an oral tradition; nobody thought it terribly necessary to attempt to write everything down in a homogenized form until the thirteenth century: that’s six hundred years after the Viking Period (that legendary hey-day of Heathenry, supposedly), for those keeping score. Before that time, such a homogenized form of “Heathen thought” simply didn’t exist. Now, I’m not saying we shouldn’t study lore, or value it; what I am saying is that we shouldn’t become slaves to it. It’s a signpost and a guide; nothing more. The Eddas and Sagas are not some sort of “Heathen Bible”, and the moment we start treating them as such, well…that’s how we wind up here!

Perhaps that over-reliance on the written lore is a carry-over from many people’s Christian upbringing/background; perhaps that is also the source of the pervading “show me the receipts” mentality which is currently taking the Heathen world by storm. What do I mean by that? I mean that I am presently witnessing the same “I have a degree/certificate/ordination from so-and-so-group, and that makes me better than you” attitude surfacing in Heathenry, which I have likewise witnessed within other Pagan “realms”, as well as other faiths, including Christianity. Suddenly, everyone is becoming obsessed with “pedigrees” and “papers”. Guess what? There is no historical basis for these attitudes, either!

Again, let’s go back in time for a moment, and imagine that we are a vitki, volva, or seidhrkona travelling through the pre-lore world. (Note: I’m not addressing those carrying a godhi or gydhja ordination here; I’ll talk about that momentarily). For the sake of actually being able to provide one of those much-loved lore-sources, let’s use Thorbjorg, the Little Volva, from the Saga of Erik the Red as our specific example here. We are told in the Saga that it was her custom, in the winter, to travel around Greenland, and visit the homes of those who needed to know their fates. She visits the home of Thorkell, and he invites her in, lavishing her with the appropriate hospitality due to a woman of her station (a volva). At no point in this story do we read the words: “And then Thorbjorg showed Thorkell her credentials, which were written carefully in runes upon a parchment”! Instead, we are told, in exacting detail, how she dressed, and specifically about the appearance of her staff. Her staff, and her reputation (her previous deeds), are all the credentials she needs! 

During the course of Thorbjorg’s service at the home of Thorkell in Greenland, she calls for those women who know how to perform vardhlokkur: the group-chant necessary for her to carry out seidhr. When none can be found, they ask if anyone gathered in the home knows how to perform it. The woman who steps forward, Gudrid, is a Christian. She says:

“I am neither cunning-folk nor a wise-woman, though I learned from Halldis my foster mother in Iceland that lore that is called vardhlokkur.” –Translation Mine

And instead of saying “can you show me the papers you got from Halldis that prove you finished the course and are, therefore, certified to perform vardhlokkur?”, Thorbjorg says:

“Then you are more learned than you suppose.” –Translation Mine

As a culture, the Scandinavian and Germanic peoples practiced an oral tradition; people were known by their deeds. That’s why things such as Honor, Loyalty, Hospitality, and Honesty were so highly prized. They did not develop a written culture until the arrival of the Church: until they became Christian. It wasn’t until then that things such as seals, coats of arms, and other forms of documented “personal identity” came to be accepted, much less required. In other words: the writing down of the lore (the Eddas and Sagas) occurred at the same time when written forms of personal identification became a historical reality.

Which brings us to the subjects of godhi and gydhja and ordination. The godhi was originally a high priest, although by 1000 AD in Iceland, it had lost most of its “religious overtones”, and come to mean only chieftain: basically, the equivalent of jarl or earl elsewhere in the Scandinavian/Germanic world. Meanwhile, the term gydhja (to mean “priestess”, and not “goddess”) is sourced primarily from Landnamabok (9th-10th century). So, how were the godhi or gydhja “elected” to their offices? How did they become “ordained”? What sort of “papers” did they sport, back in the day? As with many things in our realm of Historical Reconstruction, the answers are simple: mostly we don’t know! In post-Christian Iceland, by the time godhi had become more of a political title than a religious one, we know that the godhi were often “elected” or chosen at the Althing, but prior to that (suprise!), we have no written documentation, so the best we can do is make an educated guess. Based on artifact-evidence, as well as the lore, that educated guess leads us right back to the same methods of recognition and “ordination” which we find for vitkis, volvas, and seidhrkonas: they were known by their deeds. Basically, the “act of ordination” (the official act or process of making someone a priest) involved recognizing and treating a person as-such, based on their previous acts of service to the community.

Now, once again, don’t get me wrong: if you have made the great commitment of time and effort to, in fact, earn an ordination, through study and acts of service, via any of the current organizations which offer such programs, I wholeheartedly congratulate you, and even more than that, I respect you! On the other hand, some of the most profoundly gifted teachers I know are entirely wight-taught and Gods-driven, proving that, in the end, what makes you a godhi, gydhja, vitki, volva, or seidhrkona is not the piece of paper you have hanging on your wall, with that shiny title and your name on it. No, what makes you that is the same thing that made our Ancestors who carried such titles those things: your deeds! On the negative flip side of that: if you are using that piece of paper with your shiny new title on it to constantly point out to other people “you’re doing it wrong”, and pump up your ego, and otherwise attempt to wield power in the community, by making people feel “less than”, all I can say is: well, you’ll be known by those deeds, too!

Our Norse/Germanic faith was never meant to fit into neat little boxes; it was never meant to be routine. Most of us did not arrive upon these shores because of a thirst for dogma and imposed structure and the flexing of hierarchical muscles. In fact, we “sailed” here, most of us, precisely because we were trying to escape those things! So why work so hard to cram this faith back inside that prison? I have said often that the past should not enchain us: it should inform us, and free us. Perhaps if we would all just take a step back, and look once more to the practices of our Ancestors, we could begin to break down the walls of this box once more, return to a heterogeneous Heathenry (one consisting of diverse elements), and arrive in a place wherein we truly respect the elders of our community (the vitkis, the volvas, the seidhrkonas, the godhis, and the gydhjas) for all of the ways in which they work so hard to serve this community.