How I Became a Polytheist

Today I am a happy polytheist. In my youth, however, I thought that there could only be one god, the Great Omnipotent Everything Big Guy Capital "G" god of the monotheistic religions. That's how "G"od is defined in the dictionary. It's the only god acceptable in our contemporary American culture and it's the god referred to in the Judaism of my childhood and young adulthood. Meanwhile, scientific rationalism was the authentic religious belief of my family and their small circle of friends (and a great majority of the country at that time). In 1966, when I was at the impressionable age of 13, Time magazine declared the death of god, meaning the capital "G" monogod, and Richard Rubenstein and other Jewish rabbis and philosophers were struggling to justify the existence of a "G"od that would allow the genocide of his chosen people.

I read Rubenstein's book After Auschwitz in my twenties, and could only agree with him that "as children of the Earth, we are undeceived concerning our destiny. We have lost all hope, consolation and illusion." I believed that I was left with a stark choice: believe in the monogod who had behaved so despicably through history or believe in no god at all.

But even in making the rational choice, and espousing the scientific rationalism of my family and my husband's family, I still experienced someone who was greater than myself. Someone, not something, not an abstraction like "universal life force" or "energy" or even  "love." I experienced a voice, clear as a bell, coming from outside of myself. To admit it was to admit insanity, and when I referred to the voice, I called it "G"od, so as to have at least some slight possibility of its verity and keep myself out of the psych ward.

The first crack in my wall came from feminist expressions of Judaism, and then the Goddess of the neo-Pagans, and then the pantheons of various neo-Pagan groups such as contemporary Druids or Norsemen or those who reconstructed pantheons from ancient Greece and Rome. Polytheism is considered a common element among the great variety of neo-Pagan expression, yet most of the neo-Pagans I've met understand these various gods and goddesses as representative of archetypes or forces rather than actual persons.

Some recent academics have argued for polytheism as a political choice, since it allows greater diversity of belief and practice, but not because they believe there are greater-than-human persons. Their rational arguments for polytheism are compelling, since the monotheistic penchant for greed, war, and strife is so familiar I don't even have to recount it here, but reason is not enough for me. I believe what I experience, and through all of my religious searches and explorations, I have continued to experience the song of my childhood, the voice of my god, clear as a bell.

Only in the past few years have I accepted and named Charlie as my personal god, and in so doing, I've opened the door to the possibility of gods other than monogods. In fact, it's helped me to understand that although each monogod follower claims his is the one-and-only unique monogod, the ongoing argument between monotheists is itself evidence of the existence of several of them.

Animism completed my understanding of the gods, since animism understands that all creation is alive, ensouled and intelligent, including those beings smaller than humans and those beings greater than humans. The monogods exist, I have no doubt, and I don't like them. Monogods are bullies and dominators, and have both served and been served by the dominator elite of every millennium and locale. But I also know that there exist many gods, not just monogods, greater-than-human beings as diverse as humanity itself. Some, like Sun or Mother Earth or the Green God, are essential to human existence. We live by their grace. Others, like Charlie or Cannabis, are personal gods, what you might call angels or guides. Still others are so great as to be beyond my understanding, yet I feel their impact on my life—those I call Auntie Chaos and Uncle Karma, for example.

Jack agrees with Mr. Mystery that there exists a one-and-only Great Omnipotent Everything Big Guy, but I've never experienced him, so I don't believe he exists, and I don't pay the concept much attention. Our animist ancestors didn't think much about him either. Besides, what do I need with him? I have plenty of wonderful gods to love, nurture, and guide me. Disprove it if you can!

Charlie!

Doing Nothing is a Virtue

What to do?

I sit on the shabby wooden deck and ask for help. What should I do? The voices answer me.

Vivi says: find balance
Dad says: tell the truth
Jack says: trust
Mom says: work harder!
Sophie says: I love you
Benny says: chase your dream
Joanne says: own your power
The trees say: life is but a dream . . .

And everything speaks, even the birds and the bees and the great, bloated mass of humanity. So many voices. I hear them all.

Charlie tells me to let go of judgment. He says I have no choice but to accept life as it is, since I can't change it, but I can choose who to be and how to behave in it. I can choose love and generosity.

Boyoboy, but it's hard to be generous, I say, and Charlie says, you betcha. Life in the flesh ain't easy, but it is good. Find the good, Charlie says.

Now, see here!

 

From a larger piece (12 x 12) Puny Human at her desk.

That's my friend Adele. She lives in East Creek and waits tables at the Mystery Bar & Grill, where Terry tends bar. She's explaining a key difference between Christianity and Charlie's Polytheistic Animism: In the former, knowledge is suspect, in the latter, knowledge is desirable. When I gave my talk for teachers this spring about digital immersion and reading, I noticed that an expressed anti-intellectualism was one of the common responses, and began to dig a little deeper into the concept. I found that the United States has a history of anti-intellectual sentiment, rooted in Christianity, but also in business and politics. I'll be writing more soon about Richard Hofstadter's 1964 Pulitzer winning book Anti-Intellectualism in American Life on The New Animist. Stay tuned.

The crucible