5wizard5y | Entries tagged with wicca

The revival of paganism in the modern world owes a debt of gratitude to the pioneers of Wicca, the main Neopagan movement. It was they who, with courage and vision, rekindled the sacred fire in an age of gray dogmatism. Despite this, we must note that the tradition they founded is not a perfect reproduction of Neolithic spirituality, but rather an intertwining of Neolithic spirituality and elements that characterize Buddhism and Western monotheistic cults, from which they paradoxically seek to escape.
Openness to innovation and the introduction of new elements into a religion is undoubtedly a sign of vitality. I don't think we should perfectly replicate the religion of the Neolithic era, because spirituality should evolve over time and with the acquisition of new knowledge. However, I feel the need to take a critical look at two concepts introduced into paganism by the early authors of Wicca, which strike me as foreign bodies: reincarnation and the law of three.
Let's take reincarnation, the idea of a cycle of rebirths determined by moral conduct, a wheel from which one can only escape through spiritual perfection. this is a concept that seems foreign to me to the pagan essence. Reincarnation as proposed in Wicca, while deriving from an Eastern religion, Buddhism, seems to echo the mechanism of punishment and reward of Western monotheistic religions, where the fear of hell is replaced by the fatigue of eternal return.
Neolithic burials, rich in tools, hunting weapons, and ornaments, paint a clear picture of our ancestors' beliefs about what awaited them after death: they believed in a continuation of existence, not a repetition; they believed that the soul of the deceased was heading towards a definitive afterlife, which is why the bodies of the dead were buried alongside their earthly possessions that would be useful to them in the afterlife. If they believed in reincarnation, they would not have buried the dead with tools. Furthermore, there are no symbols in the tombs representing rebirth in a new body. Instead, there are figures depicting the journey of the soul. This vision of the continuation of life in a less dense body as a definitive state is echoed in subsequent pagan cultures such as the Greeks, Celts, and Norse, where the concept of reincarnation is absent.
Even the so-called law of three, the idea that everything you do comes back threefold, seems to me to be a moral constraint foreign to the ancient pagan world. It is a concept closely reminiscent of Buddhist karma; paganism is not governed by automatic cosmic justice. Actions have consequences, but these consequences unfold in the complex fabric of life, not in a mechanism of spiritual accounting.
Observing the world, we can see that, fortunately, this law does not work. If it were true, the consequences would be paradoxical and paralyzing. Can you imagine a world where every evil inflicted returns threefold? This would create an endless escalation of pain, a chain reaction that would trap humanity in a vicious circle of suffering. This law would also curb the natural impulse to act. Who would dare to act in a difficult situation knowing that an involuntary mistake could trigger a threefold and uncontrollable backlash? Instead of an ethic of responsibility, we risk cultivating an ethic of fear.
Although I do not agree with everything that the pioneers of Wicca wrote, my heart is filled with gratitude towards them; without their work and their audacity in giving voice to the Gods, paganism would surely have remained confined to history books, a relic to be studied, not a spirituality to be lived; It was precisely through the path laid out by the first Wiccan authors that I and millions of other people had the opportunity to learn about a spirituality that resonates with our souls.
I hope that the future of paganism will be a process of purification; I believe that an authentic pagan religion that has the courage to free itself from the imported concepts mentioned above can become not only a valid alternative to monotheisms but the expression of a free spirituality rooted in the immanent sacredness of all that exists, a paganism that does not promise salvation but offers presence, that does not threaten with the afterlife but celebrates the here and now.

The loss of fairness and the degeneration of spirituality are two sides of the same coin, two polluted rivers flowing from the same source: the pyramid of domination. For too long, we have been told that religion is a balm for the soul, when in fact, for most of recent human history, it has been a tool created to mold obedient puppets that serve the system. But it has not always been this way.
If we look back to the Paleolithic and Neolithic periods, we discover a relationship with the sacred so authentic that it seems like a dream; in those communities, equality was not a utopia, it was reality, there were no elites, resources were a common good, and sharing was the very breath of the community; in such a horizontal context, religion could not be an instrument of standardization because there were no masters on earth to forge those in heaven.
The deities of that time were not distant, judgmental spectators, nor were they celestial tyrants ready to mete out punishment. They were close presences, vital energies endowed with consciousness that pulsated in everything: in fire, in wind, in animals, in crops, and in human beings themselves. the gods were traveling companions, not jailers, and rituals were not obligations dictated by fear but spontaneous expressions of gratitude towards the deities. People danced for the pleasure of dancing, myths were told that intertwined our steps with those of animals and stars, spirituality was a unifying force, the glue of a free community that reflected its social harmony in its harmonious relationship with the Divine.
Then something cracked. If we take the Greco-Roman period, spirituality had already undergone a certain shift. While the dogmatic and guilt-inducing system that would come later did not yet exist, the figures of the gods were distorted. The gods did not change in their essence; they were still the same, but their faces were scarred. the elites, thirsty for control, understood that religion could become a tool at their service. They needed a spirituality that would justify the injustice they had created, and so they transformed the gods into celestial versions of themselves: powerful, capricious, and vengeful. They instilled the idea that the relationship with the Divine was hierarchical and based on ritual obedience. Those who shunned participation in rituals were not free thinkers, they were traitors. Religion, once a source of inspiration and personal and collective development, had already become an invisible chain, even if it was not yet completely tightened.
But the flame of true spirituality did not die out. During the Greco-Roman period, many rejected the distorted view of traditional religion. Philosophers such as Epicurus, Lucretius, and Pliny mocked the idea of interventionist and punitive gods, proposing a spirituality based on inner serenity and freedom from fear. Alongside them flourished the paths of certain mystery cults such as those of Dionysus, which were not gathering places for drunkards as many think, but places where initiates were offered a transformative experience of themselves, a path of inner growth that escaped the control of the powerful. They were voices of resistance, bulwarks against spiritual flattening.
Then came the coup de grâce: the advent of Christianity as the state religion. With monotheism, spirituality was definitively monopolized and chained, and the vital pluralism of paganism was crushed under the heel of a single almighty and law-giving God. No longer were there immanent forces, but a transcendent sovereign, whose laws superseded human ones, sanctifying the established order. The fear of hell and the lure of paradise became the perfect instruments of social control. It is no coincidence that the virtues imposed by this new system were obedience, humility, resignation, submission, and suffering. Their purpose was clear: to forge devoted slaves, perfect cogs in a pyramidal social machine. authentic spirituality, the kind that liberates, was apparently dead, and in its place arose an apparatus of psychological and social oppression.
Yet this degeneration is not an inevitable fate. If we look at Native American societies before the European genocide, we see egalitarian communities where power was horizontal and based on consensus. Here, the deity known as the Great Spirit or Great Mystery never became a judgmental monster. We wonder why this transformation never took place. Surely because there was no absolute monarch on earth who needed his counterpart in heaven. In a society without ruling classes, there is no one who has the interest or power to disfigure the face of the Divine. Spirituality remains an immanent presence, a bond of harmony with all living things.
The conclusion is that the degeneration of religion is not a theological issue, it is a question of power; where equality and harmony reign, spirituality retains its original purity, while where the pyramid of domination stands, it is distorted, disfigured, and placed at the service of the oppressors.
Scarring the face of the Gods to enslave human beings and sow affliction is the worst of sacrileges, while tearing away these chains within ourselves and in society and allowing Divine energies to flow freely again in human beings is the best way to worship the Gods. it is a return to the sacred fire of the original religion, it is the reconquest of a spirituality that does not demand obedience but offers freedom.

La perdita dell'equità e la degenerazione della spiritualità sono due facce della stessa medaglia, due fiumi inquinati che scorrono dalla stessa sorgente: la piramide del dominio; per troppo tempo ci hanno narrato la religione come un balsamo per l'anima quando invece per gran parte della storia umana recente essa è stata uno strumento creato per plasmare burattini obbedienti e funzionali al sistema, ma non è sempre stato così.
Se volgiamo lo sguardo indietro verso il Paleolitico e il Neolitico scopriamo un rapporto con il sacro così autentico da sembrare un sogno; in quelle comunità l'uguaglianza non era un'utopia, era la realtà, non esistevano élite, le risorse erano un bene comune e la condivisione era il respiro stesso della collettività; in un simile contesto di orizzontalità la religione non poteva essere uno strumento di omologazione perché mancavano i padroni in terra per forgiare quelli in cielo.
Le Divinità di quel tempo non erano spettatori giudicanti e distanti, non erano tiranni celesti pronti a sferrare castighi, erano presenze vicine, energie vitali dotate di coscienza che pulsavano in ogni cosa, nel fuoco, nel vento, negli animali, nel raccolto e nell’essere umano stesso; gli Dei erano compagni di viaggio, non carcerieri e i rituali non erano obblighi dettati dalla paura ma espressioni spontanee di gratitudine verso le Divinità; si danzava per il piacere di danzare, si narravano miti che intrecciavano i nostri passi a quelli degli animali e delle stelle, la spiritualità era una forza unificante, il collante di una comunità libera che rifletteva la sua armonia sociale nel suo rapporto armonioso con il Divino.
Poi qualcosa si incrinò, se prendiamo il periodo greco romano già qui la spiritualità aveva subito una certa torsione; se da un lato non era c’era ancora il sistema dogmatico e colpevolizzante che sarebbe venuto dopo, le figure degli Dei furono stravolte, gli Dei non cambiarono nella loro essenza, erano sempre loro ma il loro volto fu sfregiato; le élite, assetate di controllo, compresero che la religione poteva diventare uno strumento al loro servizio, avevano bisogno di una spiritualità che giustificasse l'ingiustizia che avevano creato e così trasformarono gli Dei in versioni celesti di loro stessi: potenti, capricciosi e vendicativi; instillarono l'idea che il rapporto con il Divino fosse gerarchico e basato sull'obbedienza rituale, chi si sottraeva dalla partecipazione ai riti non era un libero pensatore, era un traditore; la religione, un tempo fonte di ispirazione e di sviluppo personale e collettivo era già diventata una catena invisibile anche se non ancora del tutto serrata.
Ma la fiamma della vera spiritualità non si spense, nel periodo greco romano molti rifiutarono la visione distorta della religione tradizionale; filosofi come Epicuro, Lucrezio e Plinio sbeffeggiavano l'idea di Dei interventisti e punitivi proponendo una spiritualità basata sulla serenità interiore e sulla liberazione dalle paure; accanto a loro prosperarono i sentieri di alcuni culti misterici come quelli di Dioniso che non erano ritrovi per ubriaconi come molti pensano ma luoghi dove veniva offerta agli iniziati un'esperienza trasformativa di se stessi, un percorso di crescita interiore che sfuggiva al controllo dei potenti, erano voci di resistenza, baluardi contro l'appiattimento spirituale.
Poi arrivò il colpo di grazia: l’avvento del cristianesimo come culto di stato; con il monoteismo la spiritualità fu definitivamente monopolizzata e messa in catene, il pluralismo vitale del paganesimo fu schiacciato sotto il tallone di un unico Dio onnipotente e legislatore; non più forze immanenti ma un sovrano trascendente, le sue leggi si sovrapposero a quelle umane santificando l'ordine costituito; la paura dell'inferno e la lusinga del paradiso divennero i perfetti strumenti di controllo sociale, non è un caso che le virtù imposte da questo nuovo sistema fossero l'obbedienza, l'umiltà, la rassegnazione, la sottomissione e la sofferenza; il loro scopo era palese: forgiare schiavi devoti, perfetti ingranaggi per una macchina sociale piramidale; la spiritualità autentica, quella che libera, era apparentemente morta e al suo posto sorgeva un apparato di oppressione psicologica e sociale.
Eppure questa degenerazione non è un destino ineluttabile, se guardiamo le società dei Nativi Americani prima del genocidio europeo vediamo comunità egalitarie dove il potere era orizzontale e basato sul consenso; qui la Divinità conosciuta come Grande Spirito o Grande Mistero non è mai diventata un mostro giudicante, ci chiediamo perché questa trasformazione non è mai avvenuta? Sicuramente perché non esisteva un monarca assoluto in terra che avesse bisogno del suo corrispettivo in cielo, in una società senza classi dominanti non c'è nessuno che abbia l'interesse o il potere di sfregiare il volto del Divino, la spiritualità rimane una presenza immanente, un legame di armonia con tutto il vivente.
La conclusione è che la degenerazione della religione non è una questione teologica, è una questione di potere; dove regnano l'uguaglianza e l'armonia la spiritualità conserva la sua purezza originaria mentre dove si erge la piramide del dominio essa viene distorta, imbruttita e messa al servizio degli oppressori.
Sfregiare il volto degli Dei per rendere schiavi gli esseri umani e seminare afflizione è il peggiore dei sacrilegi mentre strappare via queste catene dentro di noi e nella società e far si che le energie Divine tornino a fluire liberamente anche nell’essere umano è il miglior modo per venerare gli Dei, è il ritorno al fuoco sacro della religione originale, è la riconquista di una spiritualità che non chiede obbedienza ma offre libertà.

With the advent of the metal ages, there was a profound transformation in the very nature of human relations; copper, bronze, and iron were not only tools for forging utensils but also vehicles of a new social stratification; the earth, which had previously been a common mother and source of shared sustenance, became an object of possession and domination; those who possessed metal also possessed power, and so the inequalities that had once been barely perceptible, like gentle waves on the sea, became insurmountable mountains, with the few who held the wealth of metals rising above the many who remained chained to necessity.
But it is not only metal that shapes the fate of men; ideas also change under the weight of power. spirituality, which in ancient times was a means of elevating the soul, a bridge to understanding what is eternal and divine, became a tool of control and standardization; the figures of the gods, who were once perceived as maternal and paternal figures, were distorted by those in power, and religion became a yoke for the common man.
Subsequently, there was a further decline with the advent of monotheistic religions, no longer a plurality of gods reflecting the variety of actions and emotions, but a single God, absolute and sovereign, judge of actions and distant legislator. This God is no longer man's companion in his search for happiness; this God stands as a terrible and distant figure who observes from above with severity and imposes laws. Religion thus becomes an instrument of standardization, a dispenser of fear and coercion, no longer a path to freedom of the soul but an invisible chain that binds man to duty and fear.