On Serving Fish on Good Friday

When I took tamheals to her first Open Full Moon last year, she said that someone should do a ritual about Jesus. I enquired about it, and learned that March 25th, Good Friday, was available. Growing up in Boulder, I had never read the gospels, but I've paid enough attention to Alan Watts and Joseph Campbell to know I could lead a Neopagan Ritual about Jesus.

Over the last few months I read canonical and noncanonical gospels, watched part or all of The Passion of the Christ, The Visual Bible, Jesus of Nazareth, and The Last Temptation of Christ. I thought extensively about how to generously represent the message of Jesus in a way that's meaningful to non-Christians.

I had several goals for the ritual. My first goal was to be clear that I was being in no way evangelical. The Open Full Moon exists as a vessel for people to present different spiritual traditions. One might expect, for instance, a harvest ritual inspired by ancient Egyptian traditions. In such a ritual, it is well understood that the presenters are sharing a tradition so that the attendees may experience new and interesting things. I wanted to present Jesus as a teacher at the same level as Buddha or Confucius or Mohammed; a story that can be told along side all the other myths we love.

My second goal was to disclaim any claim of Christianity. I am not Christian, and don't think Jesus would approve of many people and activities associated with the religion. Jesus taught people to turn away from the power structures of their existing religion. Christianity is two millennia of people's interpretations of Jesus. I wanted to present Jesus, not to present people who present Jesus.

My third goal was to present Jesus in a context that the audience could get behind. I chose to focus on what I consider to be the inner teachings of Jesus, and for those ideas I am indebted to Alan Watts. My focus was that Jesus realized that he was one with God. But, contrary to what people have believed, he was a son of God, not the son of God. My Oxford Annotated Bible, Revised Standard Edition notes that "son of" does not denote lineage, but "assuming the characteristics of." So when the gospels say (literal translation from Greek) "I am son of God," they mean "I have the attributes of God" or "I am like God." God loves, God gets angry, God forgives, and so do people. "The kingdom of heaven is within you," and where does a king live but in his kingdom? Jesus is God, but he expresses brotherhood with others. They are siblings because they are all sons of God. Being born again of water and spirit is not just getting dunked in a baptismal font; it's giving birth to the part of you that is God. Why did I think Pagans could resonate with this message? Many seek to experience the divine within themselves. The practice of Drawing Down the God or Goddess is letting an aspect of the divine speak through priest's or priestess's body. My message was that the divine is within everyone, and if we allow it, the divine can speak and act through us.

I look a bit like the Jesus you can expect to find in medieval European artwork. I donned a bedsheet transformed into a shroud, a reddish brown shawl, and a red glow stick beneath my garment. Before the ritual began, I explained what I was going to do. I made it clear that anyone uncomfortable with the ritual did not have to participate, and that those who felt too uncomfortable could leave. I had some brave friends read the quarter calls I'd written (below). Tamara (who played Mother Mary and Mary Magadlene) and I called the Goddess and God. I turned slowly about the circle in the basement of the UU church and explained what I said in the previous paragraph.

I then gave people an opportunity to speak. Some were distraught, crying as they told me of abuse in "my" name. I explained that I offered Perfect Love, but that no one was forced to accept it. I said that the important thing was to experience the divine within, the message and symbols involved were not important. I expressed regret that people needed to speak in my name, for they too are God and speak of themselves. A blind woman cried as she explained that she'd grown apart from a friend over Jesus issues, and she had done some bad things. I held her hand and forgave her for what she had done, but told her that she also needed to go to her friend in love and ask forgiveness there too. Others thanked me for what I was doing, and showed that they understood my message. One man stood up and explained that he was a Wiccan and rejected me because I am a myth. He said he felt the guardians of the watchtowers were "kind of here," and that the circle energy "felt like a donut," perhaps implying that I was not contained within the energy. I wanted to ask him if he didn't believe in anything he did, since it's all mythic, but he asked me not to respond. Like the Silent Inquisitor, I smiled and offered my love, and let him hold on to his distrust and anger. Some people have complained that in many OFM rituals, no energy is raised. There was certainly a lot of energy in the circle by this point. Some of it was negative, but it was anything but dull.

Tamara came back as Mary Magdalene and expressed her sorrow that I must die and anointed me with precious oil. For the traditional "cakes and ale" portion of the ritual, Tamara and I brought fish, challa bread, apple-pomegranate juice, kosher macaroons, and Easter M&M's. I read a Bible passage for the blessing ("For my flesh is food indeed and my blood is drink indeed..."), which brought back communion memories for many people. With the help of some friends, we distributed the food and drink, which many people politely or angrily refused and others gladly accepted. People talked a little among themselves, and then I passed out copies of St. Francis's Prayer. Most in the circle joined in reciting

Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.
O, Divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

It was getting late and we could tell people were agitated, so we decided to skip the planned enactment of Jesus's death on the cross. So it turned out just as well that I had forgotten to bring my crown of thorns.

My friends chose to dismiss the quarters in traditional Wiccan style and I declared that the circle is open, but unbroken. May the love of the God, Goddess, and each other shine ever in your heart. Merry meet, merry part, and merry meet again.

All things considered, I think it went fairly well. Around half of the crowd received the message with an open mind, and the worst thing that happened was tears and harsh words. Several people said that they were challenged to think, and as a philosophy minor I can take nothing as a greater compliment. There will probably be all sorts of negative things said about what I did last night, but I stand behind what I did. People can choose to be negative toward me, but I will respond by maintaining my offer of love.

Alia, the main OFM organizer, was in tears for much of the night, citing empathy. I thanked her for being open and allowing the ritual to happen, and apologized for any pain I brought her. She knew going in that I'm never one to stick to tradition, but she knew also that I understood the audience. She warned people that the ritual would be unorthodox and controversial, but she had the strength to see it go through. In the comments to a friends-locked post, she said that I am a Trickster. While I am honored by the label, it's not quite how I identify myself. I practice religion as a sort of experimental anthropology. I play with different cultural traditions, I make up activities, and see what happens. I didn't plan a Jesus ritual with the intent of stirring up trouble, but I certainly didn't let the prospect stop me. And I wish to deeply thank those willing to play along.

This isn't the first time I've played the part of Jesus. I was one of at least three Jesi at last year's Leftover Salmon concert. Several people there came up to me for some humorous interactions. I spent a day dressed as Jesus at Burning Man. One fellow said "Ah yes, it wouldn't be a Burn without a messiah or two." Nobody said anything negative. And a few years ago, at the Witches Ball, I received a warm welcome, including a lady who came up to me and said "Now when people ask me if I've found Jesus, I can say 'Yes, I found him at the Witches Ball!'" No negativity there either.


Tamara says that she has had to transcend her hatred for the church and has learned how to learn about different religious teachings. The core of every religious teaching is love. She is open to talking to people who would like to explore such issues with an open mind. Let me know if you are interested.

On a lighthearted note... after a planning session two nights before the ritual, I said to Tamara "Let he who is Stone cast the first sin." When I met my quarter-calling apostles beforehand and assured them it would be a hip ritual, Eric mentioned "I know you aren't the fire and brimstone type." I retorted that "The only Stone that will be brimming is me."

And now, the parts of the ritual that made it to paper. The section marked "public ministry," I spoke as inspired about the message of Jesus. At some point, I will share a more formal presentation of my views of Jesus.

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