I am going to take a few days off to attend a granddaughter’s wedding and my wife’s art show. If contemporary art is your thing you can see her work at diannawoolley.com. In the meantime, I am messing around with an article on civil religion based in part on the writings of Marcus Varro a first century BCE Roman philosopher who wrote on civic theology. We shall see what develops.
Country Parson: stevenwoolley.com
The Christian feast of Pentecost—meaning “fiftieth”—is upon us, so here’s a brief explanation. First, the word feast doesn’t refer to eating, but to celebration. Just as we celebrate important moments in our personal lives, religious feasts commemorate significant events of spiritual traditions.
The Christian feast of Pentecost has its roots in the Jewish feast of Shavuot, which comes 50 days after Passover. Shavuot celebrates the first ingathering of the barley harvest and the giving of the Ten Commandments on Mount Sinai.
At Shavuot, Jerusalem would have been filled with Jewish pilgrims celebrating while about 120 of Jesus’ disciples gathered in a room, unsure of what to do next. The risen Christ had been with them for about 40 days after his resurrection, but 10 days had passed since his ascension into heaven.
Artwork often depicts Jesus floating into the sky on a cloud—as though heaven were some faraway place “up there.” It isn’t. Jesus simply returned to the fullness of his oneness with God, who is not distant but present everywhere, in every place. Still, it wasn’t reassuring to the disciples. What were they to do without his presence and leadership? True, he had promised that the Holy Spirit—the Advocate—would come to be with them, but what could that possibly mean? They had only the vaguest sense that the Holy Spirit was God with them and for them—unseen but present.
Frankly, they were in hiding, fearful of the crowds, of anti-Roman violence that might break out at any moment, and deeply suspicious of the religious authorities who had orchestrated Jesus’ crucifixion.
Suddenly, according to the record, something like a strong wind rushed through their midst tongues of flame descending on each of them. What exactly the wind and fire were remains unknown. What we do know is that in the blink of an eye, they were transformed—no longer fearful and confused, but courageous proclaimers of the good news of God in Christ and the nearness of God’s kingdom.
From cowering in a room, afraid of just about everything, they poured into the public square and began speaking the good news to everyone. Even more astonishing, people from many nations could each hear and understand them in their own languages. Finally, Peter stepped forward into leadership, took his place before the crowd, and delivered a stirring message of promise and hope.
Can the story be trusted? Does it matter? What we know for certain is that something extraordinary happened. Within thirty years, Christianity had spread to every major city in the Roman Empire. In a few more decades, it extended across the empire and beyond. What began as a minor Jewish sect had been transformed into the Way of Love pioneered by Jesus Christ—who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life for all people: Greeks, Romans, and so-called barbarians alike.
The Christian feast of Pentecost is celebrated 50 days after Easter. The Jewish feast of Shavuot always lingers nearby, though because our calendars differ, they seldom occur on the exact same day. Still, it would be wise for Christians to remember that the Way of Love—the Way of the Cross—can only be lived within the moral framework established by the Ten Commandments. Not just in their plain meaning, but in the deeper sense that plumbs the depths of every thought, word, and deed.
A popular hymn for this season speaks of “telling the old, old story of Jesus and his love,” and that it will be our theme in glory. But if we wait until then, it will be too late. It must be our theme here and now, in the places where we are, among the people we live with. That is the heritage of Pentecost.
On Memorial Day we remember with deep sadness the many thousands who died in our wars, having done their duty to the end. They were sacrificed to the gods of war—for reasons both noble and not—and our gratitude for them is expressed in tears.
But I believe we must also remember and honor those who returned from battle, carrying the death of something vital within them. Some part of their humanity—emotional, spiritual, or physical—was lost, even if their bodies made it home.
For me, Memorial Day is a time of solemn contemplation on the cruel inhumanity of war. For many years, I have used this day to reflect on the life of my friend Harlan Miller. He was a self-educated farm boy who enlisted early in World War II. Seriously wounded in North Africa when an artillery shell struck his foxhole, he spent years in hospital care before returning to civilian life—a life marked by hermit-like loneliness, part-time menial jobs, poverty, and an inability to feel at home in the company of others.
He survived, yes—but part of his body and soul had died that day. His only family was the church and the church served as executor of his tiny estate. He was not unique. His story is one among many quietly carried in the lives of those who never fully came home.
Studs Terkel won the 1985 Pulitzer Prize for his book The Good War, so titled to suggest that World War II stood apart as the only war in living memory fought for morally acceptable reasons. But even World War II was initiated out of the usual motivations: greed, hubris, lust for power, empire-building, and revenge. These forces have animated nearly every war in history.
There are exceptions—wars of independence, such as our own, and others led by colonized peoples seeking self-determination. But even the most justified war exacts an unforgivable toll in human life and inflicts collateral damage on God’s creation, which was entrusted to us to nurture and keep.
In early human history, kings had few responsibilities apart from waging war. Scripture even notes that spring was the season “when kings went out to war”—because that’s what kings did. At least they were honest about it. There was no pretense of moral justification—only the expectation that war was part of a ruler’s role.
The Greeks and Romans took a more sophisticated view: they engaged in war for the glory of it. A man’s worth, they believed, was measured by the honor he earned on the battlefield. Aristophanes questioned this ethic in Lysistrata, a play in which women withhold sex until the Peloponnesian War ends. It was for naught. Despite his satire, the ideal of battlefield glory endured. Plato and Aristotle continued to praise military valor as the measure of manhood—an ideal that lasted for centuries, and still lingers today.
Let me be clear: war does reveal tremendous courage and bravery. Such acts deserve our respect. Some are even examples of profound moral virtue. But each act must be honored on its own merits—not as a measure of personal worth.
There are many valid reasons for men and women to join the military. Intending to die should not be one of them. We rightly honor our veterans for doing their duty on behalf of the nation. But it is not their duty to judge the moral grounds of going to war. That responsibility lies with our national leaders. It is the soldier’s role to carry out policy within what we euphemistically call “the rules of war.”
On Memorial Day, we remember those who gave all. But let us also remember those who survived—but not whole. And let us commit ourselves to asking, with utmost seriousness, whether the sacrifices we ask are worthy of the cost we impose.
The current GOP is the unabashed party of plutocrats and oligarchs, with barely concealed contempt for the “lower classes” and a commitment to democracy only so long as they remain in charge of it. Yet, they have done a superb job of convincing millions they are the party of the working class. You have to give them credit.
The Democratic Party, by contrast, is openly the party of the people, emphasizing support for lower- and middle-income workers. It is committed to a broad and deep understanding of republican democracy, respect for cultural and ethnic diversity, equity without discrimination, and inclusion without prejudice. Yet they’ve managed to convince millions that they are the party of the out-of-touch intellectual elite. Credit where it’s due—narratives matter.
Correcting these narratives isn’t easy. It’s not enough to convince a supermajority of voters that the current GOP is corrupt, anti-democratic, and disinterested in the lives of ordinary people. As Jesus warned, casting out a demon without filling the empty space invites it to return—with reinforcements.
Equally important is the need to reject the false narrative that divides us into left and right. We are not a nation neatly split into two warring factions. While a substantial MAGA bloc clings to right-wing ideology, there is no equivalent left-wing base of comparable size or influence. Even the so-called socialists—like Bernie Sanders and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez—are marginally more liberal than the mainstream.
Most Americans hold a mix of liberal and conservative views. The more liberal among us are open to change and new ideas; the more conservative are cautious, wanting to protect what works. This is not division—it’s a healthy distribution of perspective that often yields workable compromises.
But the current GOP is no longer a home for true conservatives. Something else must emerge to fill that space. In the meantime, the Democratic Party must try to fill both roles. It won’t do it perfectly but it can do a much better job articulating a vision of the nation we want—focused on broad prosperity for working and middle-class Americans.
That narrative must be tangible. People are truly concerned about the kitchen table or bread-and-butter issues. It is not a platitude but a plea for simple, rational, understandable policies. What’s needed is a concrete, practical vision: what kinds of jobs we need, what sort of economy we’re building, and what those changes will mean for ordinary people.
I’m just a country parson, but I have a few guesses about what that might look like.
Re-industrialization will come in the form of highly automated manufacturing—of electronics, precision tools, and tech-based goods. Jobs will require technical skills, independent thinking, and accountability. Others will focus on maintenance and security. Health care, education, and services will remain labor-intensive. New labor structures, including unionization, will lead to better wages. Small businesses will thrive by serving local communities.
We’ll see higher marginal tax rates on exorbitant salaries and unearned income—possibly up to 80%. Corporations will pay taxes at globally competitive rates without loopholes. The result will be more federal revenue and a more reasonable ratio between executive and worker pay. China and the EU will be our major trading competitors and partners, but not territorial adversaries.
We will recognize that we don’t need a military many times larger than any other in the world. We’ll downsize—maintaining a lean, sophisticated force focused on protection and global cooperation. The military-industrial complex will shrink. Federal social services will include a national health system akin to Canada’s. Public education will become a top national priority.
None of this will be labeled socialism. It will be recognized as the natural extension of American republican democracy—one where capitalism serves not just shareholders, but society as a whole.
How likely is this vision? It’s not utopian. The challenge of replacing a white, male-dominated national identity with one that reflects America’s rich diversity will not be easy. But there is no reason it cannot happen—if that’s what we choose. For it to work, liberal and conservative voices alike must engage in good faith to shape workable outcomes.
This vision is not inevitable. We may choose a different path. Right now, two are being offered.
One is the replacement of republican democracy with state capitalism controlled by oligarchs—the essence of Project 2025. The other is a return to an imagined 18th-century ideal, dominated by elite white men claiming to uphold the founders’ original intent. Both movements promote a “Christian nation” narrative that would result in a civic religion divorced from the gospel.
Doing nothing—waiting to see what happens—is not an option.
I wonder if the current obsession with President Biden’s mental acuity is just another well-engineered distraction—one that conveniently emerges every time Donald Trump finds himself in another pickle, especially when the corruption is too public to ignore.
The political gossip machine is doing a disservice to a man who has dedicated his life to serving the nation. I’m the same age as Joe Biden, so I have some appreciation for the mental strain he’s under. We’ve seen, time and again, that the presidency takes a heavy toll. Every president has aged dramatically while in office. It is mentally and physically exhausting to maintain informed oversight of hundreds of complex issues while navigating the strategy and tactics of political life.
What we’re seeing in Biden is not cognitive decline, but mental exhaustion. Speaking personally: at 82, I can still teach the subjects I know, write with some proficiency, and carry on informed conversations about a wide range of topics. But I’m retired. I’m not responsible for running a major organization—much less an entire country.
Trump, by contrast, doesn’t appear to suffer from the same fatigue. Why? Because he doesn’t burden himself with the work of governance. He doesn’t show much curiosity about issues beyond his own self-interest. He plays at being president. He plays golf. He signs executive orders like they’re props. He spins losses as wins, failures as successes, and chaos as intention. And he does it well enough to convince millions that he’s just the person they want. A lifelong huckster has become a folk hero—for reasons I still don’t entirely understand.
We forget too quickly what Biden and his team have accomplished. Under his leadership, the United States emerged from the deepest post-COVID recession faster than any other nation. Inflation, though painful, was a global issue—not Biden’s creation. The difference is that we brought inflation down without triggering a recession, maintained record-high employment, spurred investment across sectors, and built an economy envied around the world.
All of this while facing relentless opposition from a MAGA movement committed to undermining his every step.
What does Joe Biden deserve from us? He deserves gratitude—for a life of service, for guiding the country through a successful COVID recovery, for initiating a bold rebuilding of our infrastructure, for revitalizing American industry, and for standing up for working people.
And if, by chance, he is experiencing cognitive decline, let it be. He has earned retirement with honor—and in peace.
Remember the old TV series Cops? In every episode a perpetrator caught red-handed on camera whined that they had done nothing wrong. Now it is the refrain of people in high elective office, business executives, and a variety of celebrities.
What do you suppose “I have done nothing wrong” means? Does it mean they have done nothing illegal? Perhaps they’ve done nothing immoral or unethical. Maybe it means “I didn’t mean to get caught” or “where did I go wrong?” However intended, it is an evasive answer conveying no useful information.
Whenever I hear it from someone being interrogated by reporters it is a clear sign that, yes, they have done something wrong. Suspicions are verified when they suddenly disappear from the public scene to “spend more time with my family.”
The wealthiest and most powerful seem to be the people with the loudest voices calling for others to take responsibility and be held accountable for their actions. In the meantime, they are the most adept at avoiding either. Are they any different than the perpetrator caught on Cops? Yes, they stand a good chance of getting away with it. True enough, every now and then one gets taken down, but it’s just a sign for the rest of them to lie low for a few months before resuming business as usual.
How refreshing it would be if a few prominent people would take the responsibility and accept accountability for their actions. After all, it’s what they demand of ordinary Americans and frequently accuse them of avoiding. To be honest, all of us learned in childhood the art of ducking and weaving to avoid responsibility and accountability. “Not me” was the usual culprit followed by big brothers, little sisters, the dog, the cat, or the kid next-door. Learning to be responsible and accept accountability is one of the most important, often painful, and lengthy lessons we learned in order to become responsible adults. I don’t know that we ever learned it completely and there are some who have never learned.
A reputation and future prosperity of prominent public figures depends in part on their ability to keep the integrity of their image intact. It is why, from peccadilloes to felonies, they are inclined to do whatever they can to avoid being found out and deny it all if they are.
I imagine it has always been that way. What makes today’s environment a little different is the number of powerful wealthy people who flagrantly commit felonies in public view while boldly asserting they have done nothing wrong. Minions of followers cheering them on as a majority of other public figures standby saying nothing out of fear of recrimination.
It makes a mockery of the “home of the free and land of the brave.” It is offensive to the civic virtues we were taught in school as emblematic of the American way. It violates the teachings of every major religious tradition.
It would be ridiculous to expect moral perfection. We have all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. As the writer of the first letter of John put it “if we say we have no sin we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us.” It is unacceptable to tolerate the current state of affairs as normative excusing it as “that’s just the way things are.” Systemic corruption leads inevitably to the collapse of a nation. The middle class fades away, workers are impoverished, and the poor become destitute. That isn’t what we want but it is the future toward which we are headed at the present time. There is nothing inevitable about it but the time to turn and go in a better way is now.
Remember the old TV series Cops? In every episode a perpetrator caught red-handed on camera whined that they had done nothing wrong. Now it is the refrain of people in high elective office, business executives, and a variety of celebrities.
What do you suppose “I have done nothing wrong” means? Does it mean they have done nothing illegal? Perhaps they’ve done nothing immoral or unethical. Maybe it means “I didn’t mean to get caught” or “where did I go wrong?” However intended, it is an evasive answer conveying no useful information.
Whenever I hear it from someone being interrogated by reporters it is a clear sign that, yes, they have done something wrong. Suspicions are verified when they suddenly disappear from the public scene to “spend more time with my family.”
The wealthiest and most powerful seem to be the people with the loudest voices calling for others to take responsibility and be held accountable for their actions. In the meantime, they are the most adept at avoiding either. Are they any different than the perpetrator caught on Cops? Yes, they stand a good chance of getting away with it. True enough, every now and then one gets taken down, but it’s just a sign for the rest of them to lie low for a few months before resuming business as usual.
How refreshing it would be if a few prominent people would take the responsibility and accept accountability for their actions. After all, it’s what they demand of ordinary Americans and frequently accuse them of avoiding. To be honest, all of us learned in childhood the art of ducking and weaving to avoid responsibility and accountability. “Not me” was the usual culprit followed by big brothers, little sisters, the dog, the cat, or the kid next-door. Learning to be responsible and accept accountability is one of the most important, often painful, and lengthy lessons we learned in order to become responsible adults. I don’t know that we ever learned it completely and there are some who have never learned.
A reputation and future prosperity of prominent public figures depends in part on their ability to keep the integrity of their image intact. It is why, from peccadilloes to felonies, they are inclined to do whatever they can to avoid being found out and deny it all if they are.
I imagine it has always been that way. What makes today’s environment a little different is the number of powerful wealthy people who flagrantly commit felonies in public view while boldly asserting they have done nothing wrong. Minions of followers cheering them on as a majority of other public figures standby saying nothing out of fear of recrimination.
It makes a mockery of the “home of the free and land of the brave.” It is offensive to the civic virtues we were taught in school as emblematic of the American way. It violates the teachings of every major religious tradition.
It would be ridiculous to expect moral perfection. We have all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. As the writer of the first letter of John put it “if we say we have no sin we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us.” It is unacceptable to tolerate the current state of affairs as normative excusing it as “that’s just the way things are.” Systemic corruption leads inevitably to the collapse of a nation. The middle class fades away, workers are impoverished, and the poor become destitute. That isn’t what we want but it is the future toward which we are headed at the present time. There is nothing inevitable about it but the time to turn and go in a better way is now.
Most of us wonder about the meaning of our lives. We want them to be meaningful to us, self satisfying, and it’s gratifying when meaning is affirmed by public acclaim. But questions about whether one’s life has purpose that benefits others? The two—meaning and purpose—are related, but not the same. A life deeply meaningful and satisfying to the self, while also benefiting the well-being of others, may be the most fulfilling of all. But it need not be that way. A life meaningful to oneself might offer no apparent benefit to others. In its corrupted form, it will be harmful to self and others. Likewise, a life committed to serving a necessary purpose can be a life of joyless drudgery—and in its corrupted form, may serve a malevolent goal.
Most people hope to lead a self-satisfying, meaningful life that also serves a useful purpose in society. Some thinkers, emotionally worn down by the inhumanity of economic depression and global war, concluded that life had no meaning and served no purpose. However influential their views were for a time, the resilience of human nature—and its universal desire and hope for meaning and purpose—could not be extinguished. The question of how one’s life can have meaning and purpose continues to dominate the human horizon. The so-called midlife crisis is one expression of its persistent presence.
I suspect these questions are always lurking in the back of our minds, but they tend to come forward at three key stages in life. The first is during the teenage years, when the cusp of adulthood is in sight, but hormonal and physical changes, peer pressure, and the lure of new adventures raise the questions: Who am I? Where am I going? The answers at that age tend to be shaped more by imagination than reason.
The second stage comes a few years later, as the responsibilities of adulthood become real. Here I am—but what does my life mean? How can I make something of this and is this all there is? How do I compare with others like me?
The third major stage arrives with retirement. Many come to recognize that their lifetime accumulation of skill, knowledge, and wisdom—combined with physical and mental energy that resists too much rest—leads to a desire for renewed meaning and purpose.
The answer to living a meaningful, purposeful life is always unique to each person. Yet some unifying principles remain.
Created in the image of God, we are called out of love to be agents of love in a world desperate for it. Love expressed in words and deeds brings healing, reconciliation, and a measure of godly peace that surpasses all understanding. The variety of words and deeds that fulfill God’s call is without number. We don’t need to search far for them—they are present in what we say and do every day. Doors of opportunity don’t have to be hunted down as they’re constantly placed before us. Whether we notice them or choose to walk through them is another matter—but they are there.
There are, however, a few caveats.
A life of purpose that benefits others cannot be for them if it is not also with them. That means their needs, desires, and ways of doing things must be respected and given precedence. Purposeful acts imposed upon others “for their own good” rarely succeed and often backfire.
We are called to be agents of God’s grace—but as caregivers, not cure-givers. God’s healing and reconciling power may work through what we say and do, but it is God’s power, not ours. We are not present to fix what we think is wrong in someone else’s life.
Self-care is essential to a meaningful, purposeful life. Attending to what is personally meaningful—even if it serves no immediate benefit to others—is vital. Yet, because we are social creatures not meant to live in isolation, life becomes even more powerful when shared with others. Participating in meaningful activities with others strengthens both our sense of purpose and our connection to the world around us.
No one can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth. (Matthew 6)
They promise them freedom, but they themselves are slaves of corruption; for people are slaves to whatever masters them. (2 Peter 2)
Do you not know that if you present yourselves to anyone as obedient slaves, you are slaves of the one whom you obey, either of sin, which leads to death, or of obedience, which leads to righteousness? (Romans 6)
There is something in human nature that resists commands to be obedient. It begins early, as soon as a toddler learns to say “no!” Commands of obedience and our deep desire for freedom seem locked in an eternal struggle. In a recent conversation a friend told me he didn’t like being bossed around and admitted he wasn’t a very obedient person. He liked being the one to make decisions. It was an honest confession and I think he spoke for many of us. None of us can avoid circumstances that require obedience—it’s simply part of life. Yet we secretly admire the rebel, the one who makes his or her own rules, and the heroic figure who gets away with it.
Living in relationship with others requires some form of obedience to the rules that govern relationships and communities. We cannot escape it. Children are taught to obey parents and teachers. Every workplace has a boss, and every boss has a boss. Witnesses in court must swear to tell the truth—an oath of obedience to the law. Elected officials take oaths of obedience to constitutions and the laws of the land. Military organizations are built on oaths of obedience. Physicians, lawyers, and other professionals swear obedience to codes of ethics. Marriage vows are oaths of obedience. Democratic nations cannot exist without adherence to the rule of law. Even more powerful than formal oaths are the social norms we were raised under—norms that impose rules of obedience, for good or ill, and dominate our subconscious. Most of us try to be good people doing the right things for the right reasons, which is itself a form of obedience.
“To thine own self be true,” wrote Shakespeare, and it’s good advice—if not taken to the extreme. Those who are obedient only to themselves are the most to be feared and pitied. They have a cruel dictator for a boss and are likely to be cruel to others in all they say and do. Psychiatric illnesses and addictions, too, can make some of us obedient to what the ancients would have called demonic forces.
The question then is: to whom or what is one obedient? How can one be obedient and also fully free? The answer is to place obedience to God’s way of love above all other demands of obedience.
Kings and emperors come in many forms—crowned and self-made—offering security, wealth, power, and position in exchange for obedience. But coercive punishment is their only tool of enforcement. Only God in Christ Jesus comes in love, out of love, offering abundant life through obedience to the way of love that Jesus laid before us. Jesus did not come to condemn or coerce but to save that we might have life and have it in abundance.
As Roman emperors clung desperately to the last remnants of their power, it became clear that those who desired to live free, full lives in the way of the Cross had to seek something entirely different. Saint Benedict had a profound insight when he recognized the universality of obedience as essential to forming a community where a full, free life in Christ could flourish. True freedom and full expression of the self in its most wholesome form are found when one surrenders in obedience to following Christ. Benedict did this through a simple rule of life for the monks in his monastery, creating room for full freedom to thrive.
Not everyone is called to the monastery—certainly not me—but for me and many others, his rule provides a useful guideline for daily life and for interpreting the kinds of obedience required of us in the secular world most of us inhabit. The rule set in place a routine in which time is set aside for adequate rest, work, study and reflection, relaxation, and nourishment. It establishes rules of behavior toward one another that honors the dignity of every human being as made in the image of God. It commands hospitality to the stranger and care for the sick and impoverished.
It is not a life removed from the world but one engaged in it—working to make God’s kingdom more present to others in whatever ways possible. It is a way of living in which we are called to be agents of God’s kingdom for others—not to force it upon them, but to embody it. It seeks the common good for all, with special care for the poor, the neglected, the oppressed, and the marginalized. One cannot go wrong crafting a rule of life for oneself based on the rule of Benedict.
Medieval and early modern European culture understood the coexistence of physical and spiritual reality. It echoed the many gods and goddesses that populated pagan religions in pre-Christian times. Christian faith may have abolished the polytheism of earlier eras but retained a deep understanding of the mystical relationship between the physical and spiritual. Throughout Europe—especially in Britain—that relationship was expressed in the sacredness of creation and in the belief in “thin places” where the physical and spiritual could be intimately experienced.
Science, reason, and theology have taken us far from the wisdom embedded in those ancient beliefs—and not without justification. Those were also years of magical thinking, bizarre myths, and ghosties and ghoulies and things that go bump in the night. But while science and reason rightly quashed the nonsense, they also deprived us of the deeper wisdom hidden within it.
The subject came up in a recent conversation about the gods and goddesses in Hawaiian culture. Hawaiians may be faithful Christians in every way, but if you ask them about Pele—the goddess of the volcanoes that formed the islands—they will say she is real. It means the land itself holds a sacred spiritual reality, just as humans do. Hawaiians have preserved and reinterpreted their ancient wisdom for today and are adamant about restoring sacred care of the ‘āina,’ the land. Our conversation focused on Hawaii, but something similar is happening among American Indian tribes across North America. They, too, have preserved mythological wisdom and are reframing it to meet the needs of contemporary society. We should listen closely because they have something vital to share with the European-based Western culture that dominates the global economy—and therefore dictates how creation is used and abused.
Christians—especially Anglicans and British Catholics—have a solid foundation on which to restore and reframe ancient wisdom to guide humanity in a better direction. Celtic Britain carried the same wisdom through pagan goddesses of the land and animals, such as Danu and Ériu. Celtic Christianity adapted that pagan wisdom to express the profound meaning of being created in the image of God and of being accountable to God for the stewardship of creation.
Humanity, the land, and all creatures coexist in such a way that the well-being of each depends on mutual respect for the physical and spiritual reality of the others. Humanity bears a special responsibility because we are the only creatures capable of independent, willful action that affects the entirety of creation. If we choose wisely, we can do great good; but our predatory instincts also enable us to do great harm. Creation may lack willful independence, but it can—and does—react to protect itself as best it can. The ancient goddesses themselves were not real, but the spirit they represented was real then and is real today. That wisdom is what the Western world must recover and adopt—not merely as a sacred obligation but as a practical necessity.
It’s important not to be misled by contemporary social and religious fads that use the words and symbols of ancient wisdom to construct imitation beliefs—things people play-act until the next fad comes along. Imitation Celtic neo-paganism seems to be the current one. Recovering a deeper, more profound understanding of the sacredness of creation and our collective responsibility for its care leaves no room for such nonsense.