The Certainty of a Sunrise Rage against the Dying of the Light ÓRLAITH ROE
after noon on a dull Southortly October weekend, I reach to Raymond of the Pagan
Federation of Ireland (PFI). The Atlantic rain comes in from the coast, as it often does, spraying the already battered front windows. Just before I head back to Amsterdam, I confer with a friend who recommends I take a look at the PFI. “You haven’t heard of them?” she asks slightly surprised. I have not. “I mean everyone is a Pagan around here these days” she continues, “It’s having a moment.” 1500 years, give or take, after its mainstream death, Paganism is having a moment. From his home in Kildare, a county just west of Dublin on the east coast of the island, Raymond responds via email. Our back and forth correspondence over four days crafts a clearer picture of Neo-Paganism in Ireland, and why exactly the organisation has attracted so many new members over the course of the past decade. This pre-Christian belief system is having a revival amongst Celtic countries and beyond; the disconnect with modern religion and churches has been rampant for years, so why now are people turning to Neo-Paganism? As Raymond puts it, “a very common feeling in discovering Paganism, is the feeling of coming home.” This sense of “home” finds itself at the very core of Paganism’s rebirth. Today we can accept that the Irish Pagan calendar is comprised of, as author and co-founder of the Irish Pagan School Lora O’Brien puts it, two ‘wheel-like’ calendars that run simultaneously to one another; one represents the Four Fire festivals, the other the four Cross Quarters. O’Brien breaks down both wheels like this: the former maintaining a focus on “Hearth, Home and the Otherworld”, and the latter with a focus on “the Land & Sovereignty, and this World.” It is often difficult to
assemble a timeline and understanding of pre-Christian Celtic religion; the Celts wrote little to nothing down about their pagan beliefs during this time. There are of course discrepancies about whether certain festivals were linked to Paganism, or to separate cultural or spiritual beliefs before Christianity. To pinpoint exactly the makeup of Paganism before the 19th century is beyond our current reach, but there is little doubt about a broader grouping of Celtic Paganism that has outlasted the arrival of Christianity in order to remain present in the modern world. When I ask Raymond, what drew him to Paganism, his answer is warmly succinct, homely even, “The lack of dogma, and a gradual dawning of my place in relation to the Earth,” he explained, “many Pagans say that they were always Pagan, and that Paganism is the spirituality that they were born with, with it taking them time and life experience to realise it.” This is the same sentiment that echoes throughout the revival of Pagan festivities every spring and late autumn and the re-birth of ceremony around the winter and summer solstices. It is not difficult nowadays to find a Samhain festival of fire and light (particularly in Ireland and Scotland), of people wrapped in warm knits and cloaks on a damp and crisp October 31st, feeding the names of their ancestors to the bonfire around which they gather. Halloween’s original predecessor is steadily returning; after the ceremony and festivity, people head for food and drinks, traditional music, the swapping of stories. The night’s celebrations are rooted in community and the steadfast belief that all who gather belong. There has been a clear resurgence in Neo-Paganism over the past decade, namely in Celtic countries, but also in Nordic
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regions. I wonder, was there a precise turning point, a shift in cultural opinion that can explain this rebirth? Raymond cannot pinpoint an exact moment in time, but views it instead as a gradual sea change, “As societies have become more secular, exploring alternative spiritual paths has led many to Paganism,” he says, “Paganism offers a deep and personal connection to one’s land and ancestors, and a feeling of being rooted and permanently in connection with one’s surroundings, supporting one’s emotional growth; a feeling that can frequently be absent in a seemingly disposable and transient world.” The sense of ‘community’ present in modern Paganism has been a huge part in its new lease of life. In a world of increasing pressures on one’s wellbeing, a growing detachment from any form of faith, and a soaring sense of impending doom, the idea of being part of a community bound by understanding and appreciation for nature does not seem all that bad. The grounding character of Paganism seems to attract both lost souls and found beings; there is nothing that captures this essence more than the Fire Festivals. As a child I grew up fascinated by the Seán na Gealaí turnip heads, by tales of the opened burial mounds, and of our ancestors preparing to warn off the wandering dead souls who returned to roam the earth, marking the arrival of the Gaelic winter. However, the true meaning of the Fire Festivals like Samhain and Bealtaine go far beyond tales and stories. As is frequently quoted as an authentic explainer, the fires of these festivals were, “a kind of imitative or sympathetic magic – they mimicked the Sun, helping the “powers of growth” and holding back the decay and darkness of winter”. They are the constant reminder that light returns and will continue to do so as long as the earth revolves.
