RCG-I Seasonal Salon Spring Equinox 2009

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Acts of Love & Pleasure

The Children

Ostara's Litany

In Praise of Faith

Contributors

The Children

by Jade River

"Your children are not your children,
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but are not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you."

~Kahlil Gibran

In the early days of the women's spirituality movement there was an axiom, “The Goddess calls her own.” For many women this principle explained why some of us felt drawn to celebrate and serve the Goddess while other women's responses varied from mystified to hostile. Many feminists considered women's spirituality to be an exercise in “naval gazing,” while others considered it a waste of valuable time that could be used fighting for women's rights./p>

Regardless of these attitudes, the women's spirituality movement took hold and prospered within women's community. Apparently, the Goddess called a great number of us as covens, groves and other venues for the celebration of the Goddess sprung up in large cities and even in small rural areas. Circles that honored the seasons came to life around the world. Books, magazines, and newspapers about Goddess culture began to fill the shelves of libraries and bookstores. Gatherings large and small began to connect women and create networks of knowledge and information./p>

For many women called by the Goddess there was also another call. It was the call to motherhood. Many of us had children. In traditional religion, one of the primary reasons parents return to religious practice as adults is because they want to raise their children within religion. And, we did too. But, if the Goddess calls her own, then how do we tell if our children are called? And, what if we feel a child is not called, what then?/p>

In the book Bridget's Charge* Deborah, the main character, is from a family of witches. Her mother feels it is too dangerous to pass along this information, but her grandmother chooses to train her in the craft over her mother's objections. The knowledge her Grandmother shares is passed from each generation to the next, but it is only passed to the children who are called. Deborah has nine children. She looks to each of these children to see if they are called. She is saddened that none of her first 8 children have the call to the craft. She is aging and her childbearing years are drawing to a close. She fears that she will bear no child to whom she can pass her knowledge. Finally, in her ninth baby she finds a child who is called. It is to this child alone that she passes the skills of the craft./p>

I was raised in traditional religion. There I encountered the hollow church professional who knew the doctrine, scriptures and fund-raising, but had no seeming connection to spirit. Sometimes these clergy were simply following in the “family business” while others choice to be clergy simply mystified me. Having had this experience, I wondered about the benefit of bringing someone into our religion that was not called. Might we create this same type of person? Was it possible that sharing the craft with children who were not called would be a disservice to both the craft and the child?/p>

And then, how do we tell if a child is called? What do we do if we feel some of our children are called and some are not? I wonder how we instill in our children a respect for the earth and reverence for the Goddess if we feel they are not called. I have always liked the concept of “being called.” It helps to explain for me why women come forward from the most unlikely situations to take their place in the circle with us. But, if I hold to the concept of “being called” then how do I evaluate if my child is called? (And for me now, how do I make that judgment about my Grandchildren?)/p>

I do not know the answer to these questions. I do know that I want the world to be a better place. I want peace and prosperity unbridled in the land. I want reverence of the Great Mother to be in each heart. I hold this paradox and tread this ground with hopefulness./p>

* Cynthia Lamb (Bay Island Books, 1997)