This post follows rather belatedly on the earlier reviews of children's Picture Books, etc. When I have completed the Sixth and final series (Academic/Popular Academic) I'll pin them all to the Pages tab below the title banner, in order to make them more accessible to later readers. In the meantime you can find the previous reviews and introductory material at these links:
Brigit Book Reviews (1): Introduction
Brigit Reviews (Series Five): Nonfiction, Neo-Pagan
Candlemas: Feast of Flames,
Amber K and Azrael Arynn K (2001) Llewellyn Publications
“The Well of Her Memory” in Red-Haired Girl from the Bog,
Patricia Monaghan (2003) New World Library
‘‘Imbolc—Brigit”, Alexei
Kondratiev, in Devoted
to You, Judy Harrow (2003) Citadel Press
Brighid’s Healing: Ireland’s
Celtic Medicine Traditions, Gina McGarry (2005) Green Magic
Ogam: Weaving Word Wisdom,
Erynn Rowan Laurie (2007) Megalithica Books
Brigid: Goddess, Druidess and
Saint, Brian Wright (2009) The History Press
Brighid and Me: Experiences with
the Goddess, Hollee Swann, ed. (2010) copyright Helen Roberts Hollee Swann
Brigit: Sun of Womanhood, ed.
Patricia Monaghan and Michael McDermott (2013) Goddess Ink
Pagan
Portals—Brigid: Meeting the Celtic Goddess of Poetry, Forge, and Healing Well,
Daimler, Morgan (2016) Moon Books
Introduction
We have a mixed bag in this category, some excellent,
some I don’t recommend at all, and some I recommend with certain reservations.
A few of these reservations crop up repeatedly, in particular the failure of
authors to cite their sources and the mixing of fact with guesswork—their own
or that gleaned from other writers.
A useful guideline for dealing with one sub-category
of the latter problem can be found in the concept of UPG. (See below.
) It is a variation on a basic principle of nonfiction writing: only present as
fact what can be established as such. Represent your own ideas and those of
“the popular mind” as what they are. This does not make them less
important. Insight and innovation nourish our growing appreciation of and
connection to Brigit in the modern world. Delineating between our own ideas and
defensible traditions simply allows each individual to draw their own
conclusions, in possession of as much clear, and clearly sourced, information
as possible.
The Ks’ book, Candlemas, suffers from a lack of citations—there
are some but not many and they aren’t all useful—making it frequently
impossible to check their statements. It also suffers in offering unproven
assumptions as fact, particularly annoying when they are in doubt or disproven
elsewhere. Despite this it is a lovely jumping off point for thinking about
Brigit and the festival, with lots of warmth, imagination, and ideas for
celebration, Neo-Pagan-style.
Monaghan’s essay, “The Well of Her Memory”, offers a
well written and interesting personal perspective on Brigit and her modern
celebration in Kildare. A couple of her statements, again not cited, are
dubious, however, and I would verify elsewhere any new ideas you find here that
you want to embrace.
Kondratiev, too, at times presents imagination as fact in
‘‘Imbolc—Brigit”. Yet he does have a good background in Celtic studies and it
is a pleasure to imagine along with him. He offers numerous ways to celebrate a
Neo-Pagan Imbolc, as well. Worth the read.
I can’t speak to McGarry’s herbal information, which may be solid, but,
despite her obvious goodwill, as a book about Brigit or Celtic tradition Brighid’s
Healing: Ireland’s Celtic Medicine Traditions is very unreliable. Nor does
it have much obvious to offer around actual Irish herbal traditions. Not
recommended.
Laurie has done an excellent job in Ogam: Weaving
Word Wisdom. This book is not specifically about Brigit, but she appears
frequently in its pages, placed to an unusual degree in the context of the
Celtic mindset from which she emerged, and the Neo-Pagan landscape in which she
now finds herself. It is well-footnoted and carefully distinguishes Laurie’s
own ideas from tradition, offering modern innovations and explaining how they
adhere to or differ from what is known of the beliefs and values of the Celts.
Despite some interesting photos and tidbits, I
can’t recommend Wright’s Brigid: Goddess, Druidess and Saint. Instead of
distinguishing his hypotheses from known facts, he puts forward his own
imagined history, unsupported by evidence, quite forcibly as reality, thereby
giving a very misleading picture of things.
Swann has put together a nice little pamphlet of
personal essays by various Neo-Pagans on their relationship to Brigit in Brighid
and Me: Experiences with the Goddess. I like it, and was pleased to be
asked to write an essay for it, so I leave it to you to decide if I am biased.
I’m going to cheat and not actually review Monaghan and McDermott’s Brigit: Sun of Womanhood.
It was published after the writing of the other reviews here, which have been
long delayed in publication due to health issues in my life. Rather than delay
yet longer as I read and review Sun of
Womanhood I will say only that it
exists, and that it is a collection of largely Neo-Pagan writings, though there
are offerings from Christians as well.
Daimler’s Pagan Portals: Brigit is a short (112 pg.) and very focussed look
at the goddess Brigit. If you can afford only one book about Brigit, this is
it.
Useful Terms:
When discussing books written
by authors of a spiritual bent, the terms UPG, SPG, and CG can come in very
handy.
UPG
(Unsubstantiated Personal Gnosis): Information gained through meditation,
intuition, visions, etc., which cannot be substantiated by lore or research but
is usable in the individual’s practice. Labelling as UPG helps prevent
misunderstandings about verifiable sources and preserves intellectual honesty.
“UPG” specifically indicates beliefs arrived at via mystical means, not ideas
or intellectual conclusions reached from academic research.
SPG
(Shared Personal Gnosis) — A mystical vision and belief shared by a number of
people.
CG
(Confirmed Gnosis) — Substantiating evidence for UPG or SPG may later be found
in the lore, rendering it CPG (Confirmed Personal Gnosis). These instances are
highly valued, and have served to bolster individual and community faith in the
Deities, spirits or ancestors from whom the information was received. Instances
of CG are also very important in that over time they help us learn to
distinguish true imbas from imagination. (Imbas is the
Old Irish word for “inspiration.” In Modern Irish it is spelled iomas. )
Distilled
from the CR FAQ (available online or in book form.)
Candlemas:
Feast of Flames, Amber K and Azrael Arynn K
(2001) Llewellyn Publications
This book is the first one that many Neo-Pagans
read about Brigit, being far more readily available than, say, Ó
Duinn’s The Rites of Brigid, Goddess and Saint, and more
accessible than Ó
Catháin’s The Festival of Brigid or Bitel’s Landscape with
Two Saints. Presenting a blend of cultural, divinatory, and magical
traditions, Candlemas may appeal more to those whose traditions are not
drawn from a single culture than to, say, Celtic Reconstructionists.
Overall, I like the book. The text is weakened
by a reliance, in the historical notes, on authors who have no background in
Celtic studies and who draw their information from yet other authors who do not
obviously have direct experience studying the old texts and lore. This tendency
allows inaccuracies to creep in and become part of the common view of a
subject, thereby distorting an already obscure picture. Nevertheless, and
despite a lack of clarity at times between cultural sources, Candlemas has much to spark the interest
of a variety of readers.
Candlemas was written with a general Neo-Pagan (or
Neo-Pagan-friendly) audience in mind. It’s focus is largely on Brigit, but it
encompasses other deities and festivals and makes some interesting parallels
between them. The second author, Azrael K, who focusses on the Imbolc feast,
includes a wealth of recipes, indicating which ingredients would have been
available to the Celtic people at various points in history—a nice touch, I
thought. (Brand new recipes are included, as well.)
The tone
is friendly and welcoming, lacking an ardent attachment to a single
interpretation of Brigit and encouraging exploration. Amber K has a lovely,
multifaith, all-people-are-one approach, and a great delight in deity and
celebration. Reading Candlemas is much like being invited in to sit by
the hearth to talk, make crafts, and share ritual.
Although some care is taken to cite sources and
trace evidence, this is inconsistent, and Candlemas is therefore not a
reliable source of factual information, nor is it easy to follow up items of
interest. Hypotheses that are contested among experts are presented as accepted
truths—for example the definition of Imbolc:
“Imbolg means ‘in the belly’ and refers
specifically to the pregnancy of the sheep, and more broadly to Mother Earth
quickening with new life.”
pg
7
No source is given. And Mother Earth is a
Slavic, not a Celtic, deity, and so we know there is something wrong with this
definition right off.
Scholars give much more tentative definitions of
Imbolc:
“The exact meaning
of ‘Imbolc’ or ‘Oimelc’ presents considerable difficulty, and Pamela Berger
suggests gently that cleansing of the fields after the winter and preparing
them for sowing the grain in spring may be fundamental in the idea underlying
the term. She refers to the theory which separates the term ‘Imbolc/Imbolg’
into two words: im and bolg, im meaning ‘around’ and bolg
‘belly’—the belly of that goddess—that is the land, the farm...”
The Rites of Brigid, Goddess and Saint, Séan
Ó Duinn, pg 19-20.
Ó Catháin reads things differently.
“Imbolc/óimelc the
ancient name for the festival of Brigit is defined thus in the ninth-century Cormac’s
Glossary:...‘that is the time when the sheep’s milk comes’...Though
condemned as ‘a fanciful etymological explanation’ this statement has,
nevertheless, inspired oft-repeated assertions that the pagan name of our
feast, as imbolc/óimelc is said to be, has something to do with the
period of the coming into lactation of sheep. Eric Hamp...has shown that the
word simply means ‘milking’...”
The
Festival of Brigit, Séamas
Ó Catháin, pg 7.
Ó Catháin goes on at length to examine the
philological evidence and theorize about what the name—if it even IS the true
name of the feast—means and what it may tell us about the festival. All of
which simply shows that the details, roundabout though they may be, are
infinitely more textured and fascinating than the boiled down versions we often
receive, and that there are many more possiblities out there than the Mother
Earth story above hints at. (For an unorthodox and intriguing interpretation of
the word Imbolc, see my upcoming review of
Phillip
A. Bernhardt-House’s paper “Imbolc: A New Interpretation”.)
I would have appreciated a lot more
footnotes, with a strong bibliography to back them up. (The citation “From the
files of Amber K, source unknown”, found on page 20, doesn’t cut it.) No matter
how general an audience you are seeking or how blended a spirituality you want
to offer, you are doing your readers a real disservice by stating something as
a fact and not giving them any way to learn more about it. For instance, how do
we know the time of year was once called Wolfmonth? Was this an Irish term?
Scottish? German?
“The Scots celebrate
the growing light not only with Imbolg but also with Up-Kelly-Aa, a fire
festival on January 28 that honors the sun goddess.”
pg 7
This surprising revelation was not footnoted,
and a quick internet search, plus a brief consultation of the indexes of a few
books on my own shelves, shed no light. I have no idea where Up-Kelly-Aa
came from, who has called it a fire festival or why, and I am sure there are a
few Scots who will be surprised to learn that they honour the sun goddess on
that or any other day. I want to know more about this interesting festival, a
feeling I often had when reading the wondrous collection of unsourced details
the author has amassed. There truly is an impressive amount of research here;
my frustration at not being able to easily verify it, and therefore to rely on
it, only increases because of that.
In addition to letting the trail go cold on so
many details, the author at times accepts the oversimplifications of other authors,
or blends together Neo-Pagan perspectives with traditional Brigidine lore. For
instance, in adopting the use of the term “Imbolc Sabbat” (pg 7). Sabbats were
not observed by the Celts. Though Hebrew at its root, the term is modern in its
use and is more correctly applied to Wicca and witchcraft.
This is admittedly, for some, a blurry line. If
modern witchcraft adopts Celtic and Germanic festivals into its Wheel of the
Year, then it makes sense in that context that the term “sabbat” be
applied to them. But if we are presenting a purported history of the
festival, the term is completely out of place.
Nevertheless, at other times things are laid out
very clearly, and the author will point out areas of uncertainty, such as in
her examination of Brigit’s origins. An attempt is made, too, to get into the
skin of the ancients, to claim the festival and goddess/saint as our own, and
bring into our lives all the poignant symbolism and positive energy that these
interpretations can yield. One of the pleasures of Candlemas is the
inclusion of poetic imaginings of how things once were. (“...the solstice is
past, the days are dreary, the memory of warmth seems like a fading dream...”)
This embodying and enlivening of spiritual ideas invites the participant closer
to nature, to divinity, to community, and to the ideals of creativity and
sharing.
Candlemas is a wide-ranging offering of ideas and lore,
much of which comes straight from Brigit’s medieval Lives or folk custom, much
more of which is drawn from a variety of streams from gemology and astrology to
western ceremonial magical traditions, all woven together with the heartfelt
contributions of modern celebrants.
Despite its weaknesses, it is a fun and warming
read. A good introduction to a Neo-Pagan interpretation of Brigit and all that
she encompasses.
“The Well of Her Memory” in Red-Haired Girl from the Bog, Patricia Monaghan
(2003) New World Library
There is some very nice writing in Monaghan’s
chapter on Brigit. She gives a version of Brigit’s history, as well as
interesting notes on, for instance, the face of paganism in modern Ireland. I
have some quibbles, as well as one more serious concern, but I appreciate that,
unlike most writings on the topic, the chapter gives a personal face to Kildare
and the Irish Brigidine movement. It includes a moving description, though
second-hand, of the relighting of Brigit’s flame in Kildare hundreds of years
after its extinguishing, and an intriguing account of the celebration of Brigit
in Ireland, particularly in Kildare, today.
Monaghan doesn’t live in Kildare, nor is she
Irish, so the story is from an outsider’s point of view, and focusses naturally
on the period around Imbolc, when La Fheile Bhride is celebrated, in tandem
with a peace conference, by both native Irish and hundreds of people who do not
live day to day with Brigit in Ireland. As an Irish North American, though,
Monaghan feels a strong connection with these traditions, and the story she
tells is as individual as it is commonplace—that of a modern woman of the
diaspora seeking her place in the culture of her ancestors. In addition, she
relates some Brigidine lore, describes the use of holy wells, and so on.
Red-Haired Girl has, I am happy to
report, an index, and this is greatly appreciated. Not so footnotes. In writing
such as this, which is a blend of travelogue, personal essay, poetry, and
history, it’s understandable that the writer might balk at having the page
bristle with footnotes. Nevertheless, there are places where I really wish she
had used them.
For example she asserts, without stating by
whom, that Brigit is credited with creating the ogam—a medieval Irish cipher
system. Yet it is clear in the literature that ogam’s origins are attributed to
the god Ogma. (“Oghma...is credited with the invention of the Ogham letters...”
Proinsias MacCana, Celtic Mythology
(1968) pg 35.) If there is a Celtic scholar who has suggested that
Brigit, in fact, is responsible for the invention of the ogam, I would
like to read what she or he has to say about it. Without a citation here, I’m
not able to do that.
I was startled to read her etymology of the word
“bridge” in Irish placenames. It is a rendering I’ve never encountered before,
and it sounded very dubious to me. She claims: “...bridge is a Brigit
word. The Celtic word Brigit...was anglicized into Bridget; in turn, across
Ireland and England, towns near ancient shrines to the goddess were called by
names including ‘bridge’, as in Bridgeport...”
First of all, to be clear, and Monaghan is not
saying otherwise, the soft “g” pronunciation in Brigit is relatively recent,
the original Irish hard “g” sound having given way to the Swedish “dg” found in
the name of the Scandinavian Saint named Bridget.
That aside, since holy places are everywhere in
Ireland, it would not be hard to argue that anywhere with “bridge” in the name
was near one. But there are many waterways, small and large, as well. Wouldn’t
it be much more likely that there was also a bridge nearby at sometime,
if not today? It strikes me that a far simpler explanation is that these places
are named after bridges. I tried to verify Monaghan’s assertion, but found
nothing to support it. I took the question to a number of persons with a
stronger background in the subject than I; none had ever heard this etymology
before, and none were convinced by it. The mildest reaction was from the Northern
Ireland Place-Name Project, which called it “Possible but highly
unlikely.”
Looking further, P W Joyce’s The
Origin and History of Irish Names of Places (2nd edition, 1870),
sports a 53 page index of place-names. Few if any have “bridge” in them,
although a number have forms of droichead, Irish for “bridge”. A very
few have some form of bri[1],
translated as “a high or rising ground”. It strikes me that less than one hundred
and fifty years ago there seem to have been almost no names with “bridge” in
them. My guess is that those that now exist are modern anglicizations rather
than ancient derivations.
This may seem like nit-picking, but such
assertions, unsubstantiated and unequivocal, are very misleading. This is not
the only such leap made in the book, and as in much writing on the subject,
there are places where she presents one version of the story of Brigit without
mentioning conflicting ones. I would therefore say that, since such points are
not backed up or always clearly stated , it would be best to read the
historical parts of this piece as “maybe”, and focus on the much stronger
personal aspects of the book.
Another nitpick: the misspelling of the names of
two Brigidine sisters—Mary Minihan for Mary Minehan and Mary Theresa
Collins for Mary Teresa Cullen[2].
Such obvious and easily corrected mistakes suggest an underlying weakness in
her scholarship elsewhere. Nevertheless, the sincerity, depth of feeling, and beauty
of Monaghan’s writing compensate to a great extent for the flaws.
[1] Including bree or bray.
[2] The latter spelling is given in the Irish
Brigidine nun Rita Minehan’s book Rekindling the Flame, Solas Bhride (1999).
‘‘Imbolc—Brigit”, Alexei Kondratiev,
in Devoted to You, Judy Harrow
(2003) Citadel Press
Good writing. That is the first thing that
strikes me about Kondratiev’s essay on Brigit. He has pulled me in by the end
of the first sentence.
“In a glen in the east of Ireland, protected
from the toil and battle of the world outside, a group of chosen women came
together within a round enclosure to tend a fire lit before any of them were
born” (p 89).
I do not know at this point if he is referring
to the saint’s nuns or some presumed group of pagan Celts tending a goddess’
flame, but the image as he relates it is enticing, and somehow I am included in
that group, just by hearing about them in this way, and I am swayed.
Ultimately, though, I’m cautious about assuming
that there ever was a group of pre-Christian flame-tenders at Kildare, much as
I would like to believe it, and I am uncomfortable with Kondratiev’s assertion
of it as though it is fact. Allow me a major digression here.
Our first word on the subject of Brigit’s
perpetual flame comes from Giraldus Cambrensis (Gerald of Wales) in 1188 CE. It isn’t mentioned in her several
early Lives. Indeed, a good 700 years passed after her death before the
practice was noted down. This seems a
dramatic oversight, especially considering the great detail Cogitosus goes into
in describing her church and reliquary, and the intimate stories of her life
that abound in all extant vitae.
Three other perpetual flames are known to have
been tended by medieval Irish clerics (in each other case, by men), these being
extinguished and relit each Easter with the rebirth of Christ. It seems well
possible that the perpetual fire at Kildare was a Christian invention, and that
it was lit for the first time long after the death of Saint Brigit. Fire is an
important symbol in Christianity, and no link between perpetual fires and the
goddess Brigit appears in the sparse references to her found in medieval texts
(W. G. Wood-Martin, pg 278-279).
The author Marian Green warns “There is a danger of creating a picture
of her pagan role from information we have of Brigit as a saint, because
certain elements of her life as a Christian holy woman appear to be
pre-Christian in origin. An example of this is the saint’s magical association
with fire, which has given rise to the deity being identified as a
fire-goddess” (pg 198).
Looked at from another angle, Séan Ó Duinn, while not directly
questioning the pagan origins of Brigit’s perpetual fire, speculates that
Giraldus Cambrensis might have been influenced by classical literature in his
recounting of what he found in Kildare; this would account for the similarities
between his description of Brigit’s flame cult and that of the Vestal Virgins.
He further remarks that it is odd that, like the Vestals, Brigit is said to
have had 20 virgins tending the flame. “In Ireland, one would expect the number
9 to predominate...9 hazels of wisdom...9 damsels of the sea... (and so on)”
(pg 64).
Clearly Brigit, as goddess of the smith, has a
connection to fire. And great fires were lit at times of cultural importance in
pagan Ireland. But if I recall correctly—and I’m having trouble remembering
where I read it, so if you have a citation, please let me know—Brigit’s
festival, Imbolc, is the only one of the Irish quarter days that does not have
a bonfire associated with it. I don’t mean to imply that there is no
pre-Christian importance among the Celts to fire in general or Brigit’s fire in
particular, or indeed to argue the point one way or the other, only to call
attention to the fact that the assumption that her fire was tended perpetually
in pre-Christian times is just that, an assumption, unproven and in some
doubt. What if, a possibility which Bitel suggests, the attributes of a goddess, and not
necessarily the goddess Brigit, were added to the saint’s stories by later
writers to lend weight to the saint’s cult, or rather, to lend importance to the
ecclesiastics in various parts of the country whose power was tied to their
association with Saint Brigit (pg 192)?
Kondratiev himself, when examining the goddess as
distinct from the saint, asks, “What stories do we have about the goddess that
clearly predate the stories about the saint?” and then refers to material which
“Irish scholars compiled between the eighth and the twelfth century”. These
stories of the goddess were written down at least a hundred years after the
first saintly tales, written down by clerics who would have been well aware of Saint Brigit, who lived in a now
Christian land, and who might well have had reasons of their own for presenting
the stories in the way and with the characters they did.
Indeed, later Lives of Saint Brigit are far more
imbued with miracles and “pagan” sensibility than Cogitosus’s Life, which many
scholars believe to be the oldest of her vitae.
Quite possibly she began as a simple human and grew more fantastic as time went
on, rather than the opposite—a woman who slipped into the role of a goddess in
her lifetime and whose goddess-like associations were there from the start, or
even, as Kondratiev suggests, that “a high priestess of Brigit (who was herself
Brigit) converted to Christianity” and refused to renounce her goddess. Any of
these stories is possible; we need to be careful not to rewrite the past to
match our idea of what should have been.
We have future and present enough for that. (This concludes the digression on Brigit’s
Pagan fire.)
Nevertheless! Kondratiev is not alone in
accepting that the perpetual fire at Kildare is pre-Christian in origin, and he
builds on that assumption throughout the text. He reaches out in imagination to
the humble yet vital role of tending fire, to the role of fire in fending off
danger and killing frosts, in guiding the wanderer home and transforming food.
He draws us into his world—our world, perhaps, of long ago. He even (Bless him!
Praise him!) provides a (brief) annotated resource list. This alternative to
the more rigorous (and useful) option of footnotes and bibliography allows a
smoother, more fiction-like text, but still points us generally toward more
evidence.
He also cites some of his sources in the text
itself, although not as often as I’d like. And his imaginings are supported by
a familiarity with Celtic writings and folklore that allows him to make
informed guesses and to supply enlightening tidbits. For instance, that fire is
in Celtic and Indo-European thinking the “archetypal ‘element that rises’”, and
that water is the archetypal “‘element that descends’ down to a cold, dark,
chaotic underworld” (pg 98). In exploring these two archetypes, he is able to show how Brigit
embodies both—most interestingly in the integration of rising and descending in
the element of water as it rises from the earth as a sacred healing spring.
Although Kondratiev emphasises the importance of
woman’s role in her connection to the (presumed) goddess of fire—or at least to
the hearth—he doesn’t forget that the Celts had a patriarchal society with
limits on kinship and sharing. He extrapolates from here that it was the need
for cooperation and mutual protection that gave rise to a non-family based
flame-tending group—one that would secure the safety of the whole tribe and
knit families together. At another
point, he slips into speaking of Brigit’s choice to join a religious community as
though the stories in her Lives and his imaginings about her are factual
accounts of a real woman’s life, which is again questionable.
The true story isn’t likely to be exactly as he
has imagined it. If it is like most things speculated on, once new evidence is
unearthed and a fuller picture gained, they are not much like we have imagined
them. Although he clearly is largely convinced of his story, and thus leans in
the direction of misleading the reader into an assumption of Truth, he
occasionally does allow that there is no substantiation for the picture he
offers.
It doesn’t even entirely make sense. “It was
comforting for people to feel that they didn’t have to give up the goddess who
had always looked after their welfare and given them the energy they needed to
do their daily work. She could remain at the heart of the official religion their
nations had chosen to follow” (pg 100). At the time of Saint Brigit, Christianity was a
minority religion in Ireland. According to Bitel, “Christianity was only slowly
becoming a native manufacture” ( pg
137). There was no sudden switch to Christianity that would require such
comforting; indeed, there was no nation at the time.
Kondratiev assumes that Boann is the goddess Brigit’s
mother and that Boann is the cow that fed the infant saint (pg 108). I like the
image but it is another unsubstantiated leap; in addition he says she fed her
“when no one else would”, whereas the tale actually says she couldn’t keep
anything else down. I can’t help being amused by his blithe statement that “The
White Cow”, the river Boyne, is Brigit’s mother. Wright equally blithely assures us that the Morrigan
is Brigit’s mother, and McGarry that Dana has that role. None of these writers bothers to say
where they got this information. More careful authors give her father’s name
only—the Daghda—as this is the only parental name reported in the ancient texts,
Cormac’s
Glossary and Cath Maige Tuired (The Second Battle of Mag Tuired).
I point these inconsistencies out not to
disprove Kondratiev’s contentions, but to bring home that the smallest
assumptions can lead to hugely different interpretations of history. We may so
easily mislead ourselves and others by representing our guesses and dearly
wished-for versions of that history as truth. Either way, the story of Brigit
is a fascinating tale, rich with imagery and symbolism with which to feed our
imaginations, and the goddess/saint who is now inextricably combined is a
wonder and a gift. Regardless of the medieval state of affairs, the story has
changed many times throughout the millenia. Was Brigit the daughter of the
Daghda? Was she the mother of all the Tuatha de Danaan, the Irish deities,
including the Daghda, as suggested by those who see Dana and Brigit as one? Was she one of these at one time in history,
and the other at another time, or was she both at once? Were Bríg Ambue and
Bríg Briugu and Brigit the triple goddess all one, and was the saint a single
Brigit or a variety of similarly named women?
Brigit is, after all, a liminal figure, neither
of this world nor the Otherworld, but of both, as shown most clearly by her
birth on a doorstep, neither in nor out of the house. She can be both goddess
and saint, the Daghda’s daughter and his mother, deeply pagan and unimpeachably
Christian. We do not have to simplify her, to create a grand unified Brigit, or
to ask the evidence to bear too much weight.
There will always be points of disagreement in
interpreting evidence and presenting arguments.
Despite my criticisms, Kondratiev’s lengthy chapter on Imbolc and Brigit
satisfies both intellect and spirit.
Whatever she has been, Brigit is now a goddess and a saint with both the
power of healing waters and ever-burning fire, and Kondratiev is able to offer
a moving picture of how things may have been, and from there, to guide
how we might participate in those mysteries now. He offers a comparison with
the Vestal Virgins (for a more thorough comparison see Ó Duinn, The Rites of
Brigid), an interesting look at the goddess references in the old texts, a
nicely developed introduction to Brigidine associations (the ox, the
oystercatcher), and an examination of Breton and French folktales in order to
gain a greater understanding of themes of mutilation in stories about Saint
Brigit. He provides prayers, meditations and notes for Brigidine retreats, and
points out that Brigit is at home in all three of the Celtic Realms—Land, Sea,
and Sky—thus assisting us in grounding our relationship to her in the greater
context of the Celtic worldview. In the end, his fiction-like approach yields
more good than ill as long as one bears in mind that it is speculative and not
a reiteration of a true life story.
I want to give two thumbs up to this wonderful
essay, which is so rich in detail and design, but too often Kondratiev blurs
the line between guesswork and research, and blends unrelated lines of evidence
without indicating that he is doing so, then basing conclusions on that blended
evidence. I can’t accept that the goddess and saint are so seamlessly linked.
Nevertheless, his interpretations arising from these stories fill out missing
details and allow a deeper understanding of the myths, leading to powerful
magical and metaphorical leaps in our own minds.
Bibliography
Lisa M. Bitel, Landscape with Two Saints (2009)
Giraldus Cambrensis, Topographia Hibernica (1188)
Oliver Davies, translator, Celtic Spirituality (The Classics of
Western Spirituality) (1999)
Séan Ó Duinn, The
Rites of Brigid, Goddess and Saint, (2005)
Cath
Maige Tuired (The Second Battle of Mag Tuired), Translated
by Elizabeth A. Gray (1983)
Marian Green, Celtic Goddesses (1996)
Proinias MacCana, Celtic Mythology (1968)
W. G. Wood-Martin, Traces of the Elder Faiths of Ireland (1902), pp. 278-279 (Thanks
to Erynn Rowan Laurie for this reference.)
Brighid’s Healing: Ireland’s Celtic Medicine
Traditions, by Gina
McGarry (2005) Green Magic (England):
I won’t comment here (nor do I have the
knowledge to do so) on the value of the many herbal remedies included in Brighid’s
Healing, but only on McGarry’s handling of the Brigit-related material.
Despite the friendly and well-meaning attitude
of the author, I can’t recommend this book. I could have been content if it had
been presented differently—as a synthesis of learning from many sources and the
inspiration of the author, rather than as a book based on Irish tradition.
The trouble for me begins with her author photo,
where McGarry dresses as an Irish peasant of an earlier century. I have no
problem with people playing dressup, but I am uncomfortable with it in this
context. It lends, for me, a feel of play-acting, or worse, pretense, in a book that claims to be a serious treatment of an important topic. I am further troubled
by a misleading cover blurb: “Gina...is the director of...Brighid’s Academy of
Healing in Westmeath, Ireland...(Her work) has seen her reputation spread far
beyond her native land.” Her native land, it fails to mention, is not Ireland,
as seems to be implied here.
As a textbook, there are obvious omissions. There
is no index, bibliography, or footnotes. She claims deep tradition, but makes
claims throughout with no substantiation. No attempt is made to differentiate
between traditional Irish uses of herbs and modern ones drawn from a much
broader tradition, from non-Celtic astrology to the herbal theories of Susun
Weed, and a blend of Neo-Pagan beliefs—both UPG and SPG[1].
McGarry states that she wants Celtic herbalism,
especially Irish herbalism, to “take its rightful place” alongside “Chinese,
Ayurvedic and Native American herbalism” (pg vii). This idea entices me, but I
learn little here about the Irish or Celtic use of herbs. It doesn’t read as if
anything is actually Celtic, in terms of the herb-lore, and her herbal
references to various Celtic deities are not obviously connected to an informed
understanding of them. I seldom get the sense that I’m reading about actual
traditional Irish recipes and uses—there is little drawn from interviews,
folklore, medieval manuscripts, and so on, that point to elder uses of
herbs—yet we know that information exists. The association of hawthorne with
the Good People is mentioned, but two herbs very commonly used in dealing with
fairies, foxglove and St. John's wort[2],
are not even listed in the Materia Medica. (Though I search, I don't actually
see a section on dealing with a wide variety of fairy interference, yet this
was a key area of Irish herbalism.)
A better Neo-Pagan resource for such references
is Erynn
Laurie’s
Ogam: Weaving Word Wisdom, which examines in detail the Irish and
Scottish uses of plants connected to the ogam letters. A more exhaustive work
would be, perhaps, An Irish Herbal: The Botanalogia
Universalis Hibernica, by John K'Eogh and George Harrison (1735)[3].
Other works McGarry might profitably have consulted and referred to in Brighid’s Healing are Medicinal Plants in Folk Tradition: An Ethnobotany
of Britain and Ireland, by David E. Allen and Gabrielle Hatfield, Timber Press (Portland, 2004), or Healing
Threads: Traditional Medicines of the Highlands and Islands by Mary
Beith, Birlinn (Edinburgh, 2004), and
William Milliken and Sam
Bridgewater’s Flora Celtica:
Plants and People in Scotland, Birlinn (Edinburgh, 2004)
Yet McGarry’s goodwill is apparent. She cares
about people and tells a gratifying tale:
“For millenia, Brighid was the residing Spirit
at an academy of learning at Her sacred site in Kildare. Young women from
families rich and poor, near and far, came to receive Her teachings and become
aid-women, serving in Her name. Their functions included the preservation of
the traditional sciences, healing remedies, and the laws of the land. Village
women brought them food and, in exchange, the Bride women taught them how to
use herbs as medicine. The head of the academy was considered to be the
physical incarnation of the Goddess and, when elected, took the name of Brighid.”
pg 31
If only the words “let’s imagine...” had
preceded the tale! As a fable, it can have meaning—could encourage and inspire,
perhaps. But presented as fact it strains credulity. How can she possibly know
this? To my knowledge, there is absolutely no evidence of such a thing having
existed, let alone a hint of all these details.
She speaks of “Brighid’s Aid-women” in the
historical section on page one. These were, she says, her trainees, like
Tibetan Buddhists, followers of a particular teacher and forming a spiritual
tradition. As far as I can tell, she made them up. Yet she includes them in a
list of things we “know” about Celtic physicians. (She may have based these
constructions on Alexander Carmichael’s remarks in the Carmina Gadelica
that in Scotland “She (Bride) was the aid-woman of
the Mother of Nazareth in the lowly stable, and she is the aid-woman of the
mothers of Uist in their humble homes.” This relationship is explored in the
Scottish traditional prayer “Bride Ban-Chobhair” (“Bride the Aid-Woman”),
collected by Carmichael. http://www.sacred-texts.com/neu/celt/cg1/cg1076.htm
.)
According to McGarry, Brigit is the daughter of
Dana and Dana is from Atlantis. In Celtic literature, Dana is an Irish goddess
sometimes equated by modern scholars with Brigit. Atlantis is of Greek, not
Celtic, construction. The goddess Brigit is described in the medieval Irish
text Cormac’s
Glossary (c.
900 CE) as being a daughter of the Daghda, but not of Dana. (Brian Wright, in his own
imagining of Brigit’s parentage, has her mother as the Morrigan. Kondratiev gives Boann—he
doesn’t use that name, but calls her “The White Cow” and “the river Boyne”.
None of these authors offer substantiation for their maternal genealogies.)
There are many examples of such UPG in the book,
together with a mingling of unrelated magical systems which, though they may
work well together, are not examples of traditional Celtic healing. This
is a problem here, where it is not in Candlemas,
because the claim is different. One book celebrates a mingling of traditions
where the other claims a pure lineage that it doesn’t deliver on.
In her attempt to present a unified Brigit,
McGarry blurs goddess and saint, sacrificing important differences and
exaggerating desired aspects. This is acceptable in a personal devotional
practice, and we all exercise our preferences more or less in how we represent
her to ourselves, but to offer this as undiluted fact misleads the reader.
There is one example of reinterpretation presented as fact
that I want to outline here not because it is outrageously unique but because
it is one of a genre of creative reimagining and wishful thinking that might work
well in fiction or in UPG-based ritual, but which mars writing that claims to be
based in fact.
“Brighid carries a sword, the Blade of Truth and
Justice. She abhors war and offers Her protection to soldiers who will lay down
their weapons” (pg 57). This is a bold statement whose origins are unclear.
Where in the literature does Brigit carry a sword, by this or any other name?
Not as a goddess, although she is the patron of swordmakers (eg smiths). Nor,
to my knowledge, as a saint: she handed over her father’s sword to a poor man.
If she does wield a sword somewhere, I want to read the source, to add to my
understanding of her. If McGarry is being metaphorical, fine, but this needs to
be made plain.
And what is the comment about the soldiers based
on? It’s true that Saint Brigit is shown to interfere in the process of war in
some of the stories in her vitae, and she is today a powerful symbol for
peace and reconciliation. But there is strong evidence that both she and
the goddess were invoked in battle:
“Yet in time of war St Brighid was wont to
intervene in favour of Leinstermen and more or less in the manner of the pagan
war-goddess. But there is no essential inconsistency here, for Brighid was
tutelary goddess of the land of Leinster and, as such, she was as much
concerned with its political as with its economic well-being.”
Celtic
Mythology Proinsias Mac Cana, pg 93
In the end, what is presented here is an earnest
vision based as much on McGarry’s laudable wishes for the world as on real
research, and more on non-Celtic than Celtic principles and lore. Ditching the
idea that what she presents is “traditional” and instead embracing the cultural
fusion and the personal inspiration employed here would have been much
appreciated steps toward a stronger and more realistic offering.
[1] See “Useful Terms” in the introduction to this posting.
[2] The Burning of Bridget Cleary, Angela
Bourke, (Random House, 2010) pp 30-31
[3] A modernized version of this book is
available, edited by Michael Scott.
Ogam: Weaving Word Wisdom,
Erynn Rowan Laurie (2007) Megalithica Books
O:WWW is a thoroughly researched and well executed
primer on the Irish medieval cipher system known as the ogam or ogham
and its use in modern times. Although not devoted entirely to Brigit, I
include it because of
Brigit’s great presence in the book, placed within the context of a wider
Celtic worldview, and the text’s usefulness to Brigidines who are interested in
contemplation, divination, ritual, and so on.
Beginning with a strong grounding in the ancient
uses and meanings of the ogam and
adding her own insights as a practitioner of Celtic Reconstructionist Paganism
(CR), Laurie guides us in learning and using the wisdom offered therein. She is
careful to differentiate between medieval and folk sources and modern SPG and UPG. (See
definitions of SPG and UPG
in the introduction to this set of reviews.) References to Brigit appear frequently in the
book in association with different symbols or feda, for instance Lus
(flame—herb) and Dair (oak), as well as in ritual.
Laurie gives an overview of the ogam and
its Celtic setting, and discusses the modern situation as well, from a CR point
of view. She then delves in detail into each symbol—its meanings, associations,
and possible uses and interpretations in readings—and provides a question or
two to contemplate in association with each fid. Readings are enhanced
by her examination of the Celtic elements of Land, Sea, and Sky, and of the
three Cauldrons. The second half of the book is devoted to divination
techniques, ritual, and meditations. Rather than simply saying, do this, do
that, she details her own understanding of and aims in the creation of ritual.
Brigit’s healthy presence in O:WWW is not surprising. The ogam
are tools of Celtic poetcraft and Brigit is the goddess of poets. If you are
interested in doing ritual, divination, poetry, or healing work with a deeper
awareness of ancient associations, this book is a truly valuable tool. And it
has everything I search for in a reference book: lucid writing, verifiable
research, clear distinctions between opinion and fact and between modern and
traditional, and a useful bibliography, glossary, and index.
Brigid: Goddess, Druidess and Saint,
Brian Wright (2009) The History Press (Gloucestershire)
I want to write an honest survey of the
available books on Brigit, but there are times like now when I am uncomfortable
with that task. I don’t doubt the sincerity of this author or the hard work he
has put into researching, theorizing, and writing his book. I appreciate his
interest in Brigit and consider him a fellow traveller. But much as I want to
like it I can’t in good conscience recommend this book.
B:GDS is presented as a scholarly work based on “original historical
and archaeological research” but that is not how it reads. To better understand
what sort of scholar Wright is, I wrote to his publisher, who had earlier been
happy to supply a review copy. I asked for a list of some of his academic
publications, intending to read articles by him which are more carefully sourced
and argued than this book, and to check the responses of his peers to his work.
This time, the publisher did not respond.
I wasn’t able on my
own to find articles by him in academic journals, but I did track down a review
of B:GDS by McGill professor Dorothy
Ann Bray in the journal Folklore (Vol.
121, Dec. 2010). Her conclusions were similar to my own. “Had he
stuck with simply bringing together the modern folk customs and beliefs of
Saint Brigid—and had he offered proper references—Wright might have produced a
book both interesting and useful. As it is, this book is seriously limited in
value.” I have posted the full text of her criticism for those who are interested.
On to my reading of the book. An element of
doubt was immediately introduced with the cover claim that the book “uncovers
for the first time when and by whom the goddess was ‘conceived’, and evidence
that Saint Brigid was a real person.” After many years’ exposure to the
careful, evidence-based speculations of researchers in the field of Celtic and
specifically Brigidine studies, none of whom make such definitive assertions, I
am very leery of this grand claim.
In general, B:GDS
gives a broad review of known Brigidine fact and lore glued together with a
large dose of unproven assertion. Wright overlooks evidence that conflicts with
his own ideas, fails to present his ideas as untested hypotheses, and
frequently gives foundationless arguments as proofs.
On the plus side, he has gathered together some
interesting items, for instance his chapter on relics, and lists of variations of
Brigit’s name and of different saints named Brigit. There are many black and
white images, including recreations of Celtic buildings and of how Brigit’s
church may have looked at the time of Cogitosus (7th century). He
has a generous index—“Crosses, Brigid’s” alone has 15 sub-listings. And he has
an interesting take on the “serpent” connection which is suggested by the Scottish folk verse:
To-day is
the Day of Bride,
The serpent shall come from his hole,
I will not molest the serpent,
And the serpent will not molest me.[1]
The serpent shall come from his hole,
I will not molest the serpent,
And the serpent will not molest me.[1]
Rejecting the idea promoted by Mary Condren that this tale
originates in snakeless Ireland, or that it reflects vestigial snake worship,
he says, “the beating of the ‘serpent’ does not look like veneration of the
snake but rather its defeat, perhaps inspired by the biblical reference...‘Thou
shalt tread upon the lion and the adder; the young lion and the dragon shall
thou trample under feet’” (pg 138).
I’m inclined to agree. Despite the presence of
snakes in Celtic art in Ireland and elsewhere, there are no tales linking the
goddess Brigit or, that I’m aware of, no manuscripts or folk traditions in
Ireland that link Saint Brigit herself to snakes. On the other hand,
Scotland has both snakes and superstitions concerning them, and it is Scotland
which gives us the tradition linking the snake to Saint Bride. This suggests a
later, not earlier, connection of the snake to Brigit.
Mostly, though, the going is much trickier in
this work. Wright devotes an early chapter to the Brigantes, a subject not
often covered in writings about Brigit, and the history is interesting. But his
assumptions detract greatly from the story. He is careless in his
interpretations, presenting as fact his imaginings about what the evidence says
and where it leads. He writes as though he knows, for example, what the Druids
of the 1st century thought and did, and when they did it. He often
repeats but never substantiates that the Brigantian Druids had a “policy of
uniting both the Irish Druids and the Irish Celts” (pg 25). How does he know this? No substantiating
evidence is given.
Similarly, he constructs a vision of what
Brigantia was like and what her role was in her society, as well as the way in
which it was changed after Roman domination—speculations which are
unconvincing, but which, when presented as fact, seem inarguable. For example, he
writes that after the Roman subjugation of the Brigantes “the perception of
their goddess Brigantia began to change as her warrior aspects as a warrior
goddess became less relevant” (pg 17).
This statement contains a number of assumptions,
not least of which is the idea that we know what their perception of the
goddess was in the first place. Returning to Wright’s original description of
Brigantia I find that he has given no
concrete evidence for her nature. He has given guesses based on scholarly work
on Celtic goddesses in general, saying that the “Brigantes probably ‘saw’” her
and “the evidence of her power in the landscape of their tribal territory...”
(pg 13). How can he know how their perception changed when he doesn’t even know
what it was? And subjugation of a
people does not immediately translate into a loss of the fighting spirit. The
experience of the Irish in historic times is evidence enough of that.
More worrying is his extrapolation, from the
most slender threads of evidence, the solid assertion that it was escaping
Brigantes coming to Ireland (Druids in the lead) who brought their own goddess
and deliberately invented an Irish counterpart named Brigit in order to further
their political ends. He says “...there is evidence that...Brigantian
Druids...migrated to Ireland in the second half of the first century” (pg 23).
But in fact he has given evidence only of Brigantes arriving in Ireland,
and he has inferred that their Druids came with them. There is a big difference
between the two when you then go on to infer a whole story about folk you have
not actually shown were even there.
Another example. After describing the goddess
Brigit’s father, the Daghda, Wright goes on to describe Brigit’s mother, selecting the
Morrigan for that role. (For other assertions of her mother’s identity, see the
Kondratiev and McGarry reviews.) This is seamlessly done and follows what
appears to be a quote describing the mating of those two deities which
concludes “the result of this union was to be Brighid.” The “quote” is offset
from the surrounding text. The next piece of offset text, which is a
quote, is from the 9th century Cormac’s
Glossary, telling of Brigit, the daughter of the Daghda. (No mother
mentioned.)
So, who, if anyone, is he quoting in the first
passage? He doesn’t say. If it is his own text, why offset it like this? He
gives no hint as to where he gleaned the fact that the Morrigan was her mother,
and since the Daghda was the father of three sons as well, if any issue did
come of that mating (the actual tale doesn’t mention it), it could well have been
one of them. I’ve seen no
evidence that the Morrigan (or anyone else) is the mother of the goddess Brigit—if
you know of any, please point me to it. Scanning the texts on Brigit by Ó
Catháin, Ó Duinn, and so on, I find no mention of the Morrigan at all in
connection to her, though there are many of the Daghda. Thus for me great doubt
is cast upon this blithely stated and unsubstantiated claim.
On this foundation of air Wright builds the
house of Brigit—which of her traits can be traced to her father, which to her
mother, and so on. Again without substantiation (for there is none to be had),
he states categorically that Brigit the saint was “a senior Druidess before her
conversion”, and that she inherited her smith aspect from the De Danann smith
Goibniu after he died in a fight with her son Ruadhan. Ruadhan, he explains,
couldn’t have inherited the role of smith because he died, too.
But if you read the original tale you see that
Goibniu didn’t die. He was dipped in the well Slaine in which the
Tuatha De Danann placed their mortally wounded warriors and was made whole. He
went on to help defeat their foes and died later with no help from Brigit or
her son.
And so on. You see my frustration. I don’t say
Wright has deliberately ignored or twisted evidence, but in interpreting things
as he has he is able to build up a story about Brigit that is completely
unsupported by fact, and by omitting both citations and evidence which would
make mud of his hypotheses he is able to pass them off as proven. A reader
innocent of the background information could easily be persuaded that she was
privy to The Truth About Brigit. And this
really annoys me.
Yet it also saddens me. In presenting as truth
what is only his best guess, a doubtless well-meaning author is adding to the
already great confusion about Brigit instead of bringing much-needed clarity. Readers
are smart enough to understand subtlety, to follow difficult or obscure
evidence, accept uncertainties, decide for ourselves among well-reasoned
arguments if the facts are written clearly and are supported. We don’t require
oversimplifications that mislead us into unwarranted certainty. Indeed we want
to understand, which is why we read, even if understanding means we are left
with some questions unanswered.
One of the great gifts of following Brigit over
the years has been the gradual unfolding of knowledge about her. Unlearning
oversimplifications and misconstructions has been painful at times, as I have
been forced to shed cherished assumptions, but the resulting picture is much
richer and has far more to teach about we humans and our relationship to the
divine.
Please be clear, I don’t object to creative
thought. In shining facts through the prism of our imagination we can develop a
rich spirituality and do much to heal our world. But keeping fact and fabrication
separate is essential in that task. (See SPG
and UPG above.) Wright fails badly in this regard.
[1]
Wonder Tales from Scottish Myth and
Legend by Donald Alexander Mackenzie (1917)
Brighid and Me: Experiences with the Goddess, Hollee Swann,
ed. (2010) copyright Helen Roberts (Pamphlet.)
Hollee Swann of Gloucestershire, England, conceived of this
pamphlet as a way to celebrate Brigit and raise funds for the Alzheimer’s
Society, in honour of Brigit’s healing aspect. Unlike most Brigit-related
books, Brighid and Me isn’t about the goddess or the saint herself but
about her devotees. Hollee asked, “How do they relate to her, communicate with
her, honour her? How did they first discover Brigit—was it gradual or an
epiphany? How do they manifest her qualities in their lives? Which of her many
aspects do they connect with?”
Given these questions, the sixteen contributors set out in
poetry and prose to reveal something of the nature of that very personal
relationship. A couple of examples:
Brid Wyldearth writes of her rocky beginnings with and later
pilgrimages to Glastonbury in “Reclaiming Brigit”. I tell of coming to know her
and to create the Daughters of the Flame in “A Dream of Brigit”. Ceri Norman
describes her transformations in “Brighid—My Guide”. Jill Smith offers her
reminiscences and her paintings of “Brighde in the Western Isles”. Rose Flint
graces us with her poetry, beginning with:
I saw her last week, coming down the sky
with a white following
billowing up in a furl of swansdown
loud as the quickening wind
The essays in this small collection are heartfelt and
enjoyable. Thanks to Hollee for her inspiration in bringing the booklet to us.
Contributors:
Brid Wyldearth
Mael Brigde
Ceri Norman
Crowspirit
Hollee Swann
Izzie, Priestess of Bridie
Jenne Micale
Jill Smith
Julie Todd
Lynne Wood
Oakmyst
Paul from Yorkshire
Rachel Mica McCann
Rose Flint
Sara Jane Kingston
Breo
Brigit: Sun of Womanhood, ed. Patricia Monaghan and Michael McDermott (2013)
As
foreshadowed above, only a brief mention here of this latest Brigidine
offering, to avoid further delays as I meander through it and with excruciating
slowness write a review.
This
book, edited with her husband Michael McDermott, is Monaghan’s swan song,
coming into publication at the time of her death last year. In it are collected
essays, poems, snippets of fiction. The publisher, Goddess Ink, writes of it:
“Brigit:
Sun of Womanhood offers a holistic picture of Brigit from her beginnings as a
Celtic Goddess to her role as a Christian saint. The contributors to this
anthology hail from all parts of the globe—including Ireland, Scotland, the
United States and Canada—reflecting the widespread influence of Brigit.”
Dawn at Brigit’s Well
Poem by Patricia Monaghan
In hope, in pain, in song we passed the night.
We have kept watch—kept faith—each in our way.
Our long dark vigil ends in spring’s mild light.
We ended winter with this ancient rite,
Strangers until we joined our hands to pray.
In hope, in pain, in song we passed the night.
Beside the guttering candles, a single white
Snowdrop nods to greet St. Brigit’s day.
A long dark vigil ends in spring’s mild light.
So much is wrong, across the world: we fight
Each other, blight the land, betray
Our hopes. In plaintive song we passed the night.
Yet we believe and pray, acolytes
In service to a change too long delayed.
Our long dark vigil ends in spring’s mild light
And we rise, renewed. Such ritual ignites
The fire in our souls. It’s a new day.
In hope, in pain, in song we passed the night.
The long dark vigil ends in spring’s mild light.
Poem by Patricia Monaghan
In hope, in pain, in song we passed the night.
We have kept watch—kept faith—each in our way.
Our long dark vigil ends in spring’s mild light.
We ended winter with this ancient rite,
Strangers until we joined our hands to pray.
In hope, in pain, in song we passed the night.
Beside the guttering candles, a single white
Snowdrop nods to greet St. Brigit’s day.
A long dark vigil ends in spring’s mild light.
So much is wrong, across the world: we fight
Each other, blight the land, betray
Our hopes. In plaintive song we passed the night.
Yet we believe and pray, acolytes
In service to a change too long delayed.
Our long dark vigil ends in spring’s mild light
And we rise, renewed. Such ritual ignites
The fire in our souls. It’s a new day.
In hope, in pain, in song we passed the night.
The long dark vigil ends in spring’s mild light.
Contributors:
Allison Stone
Barbara
Callan
Barbara Flaherty
Carol Christ
Dolores Whelan
Eileen
Rosensteel
Emily
Stix
H. Byron
Ballard
Ita Roddy
Joan McBreen
Kirsten Brunsgaard Clausen
Kerry Noonan
Matthew
Geden
Sr. Rita
Minehan
Ruth Barrett
Valerie Freseman
Brigit is the spiritual being to whom I have devoted decades of my life, in study and devotion and in supporting others in their journeys on Brigit’s path. I discovered in Pagan Portals—Brigid, to my joy, a book that wastes no words—it is a slim volume indeed—but packs into those pages more clear and illusion-lifting information than I have ever seen set out about Brigit.
Pagan Portals—Brigid: Meeting the Celtic
Goddess of Poetry, Forge, and Healing Well, Daimler, Morgan (2016)
Pagan Portals:
Brigid is an excellent primer, and the best available for getting a a
handle on the sources, ancient and
modern, for our understanding of Brigit. I can't recommend it highly enough.
Morgan
Daimler is the author of a number of books and shorter works of poetry,
fiction, and nonfiction, and is gaining a reputation for clearly written, well
researched, and extremely useful handbooks such as this one on Brigit.
Brigit is the spiritual being to whom I have devoted decades of my life, in study and devotion and in supporting others in their journeys on Brigit’s path. I discovered in Pagan Portals—Brigid, to my joy, a book that wastes no words—it is a slim volume indeed—but packs into those pages more clear and illusion-lifting information than I have ever seen set out about Brigit.
The reason is this: Daimler has gone straight to the
medieval texts, finding references to Brigit and explaining them lucidly—indeed,
clarifying for the reader which text treats her in which way, rather than
allowing them to blur together in our minds; she tackles the early geography of
goddesses-who-may-be-Brigit; she takes the complex blend of ancient, folk, and
modern conceptions of Brigit and sorts them deftly out so the reader can see
where commonly heard assertions come from and make up her own mind about where
to follow and where not.
Daimler explores animal and plant associations and symbols
commonly associated with Brigit, such as triplicity, touches on her holidays,
prayers, chants, and charms, and looks at the rise of modern Brigidine myths and flame-tending, as
well as providing hints for honouring Brigit today and supplying a diverse
resource list and bibliography.
She ends each chapter with a short essay on her personal
connection to Brigit, thus grounding the theory in personal practice. Indeed,
although emphasis is put on making assertions supported by solid academic material and distinguishing these
from our personal beliefs, she is careful to point out that she does not
believe that “the religious framework we use to connect to the Gods matters as
much as the effort to honor the old Gods itself. I think we can all do this
respectfully and with an appreciation for history without the need for any
particular religion. Whether we are Reconstructionists, Wiccans, or Celtic
pagans all that really matter is that we are approaching our faith with
sincerity and a genuine intention.” I would add that this book would be useful
to anyone interested in Brigit, goddess or
saint, be they NeoPagan, Christian, or secular scholar, for the information is
so well laid out that any further studies or devotions would only be enhanced
by the reading of this book.
From the publisher's website:
Pagan Portals - Brigid is a basic introduction to the Goddess Brigid focusing on her history and myth as well as her modern devotion and worship. Primarily looking at the Irish Goddess but including a discussion of her Pan-Celtic appearances, particularly in Scotland. Her different appearances in mythology are discussed along with the conflation of the pagan Goddess with Catholic saint. Modern methods for neopagans to connect to and honor this popular Goddess include offerings and meditation, and personal anecdotes from the author's experiences are included as well.
Who was Brigid to the pre-Christian pagans? Who is she today to neopagans? How do we re-weave the threads of the old pagan Goddess and the new? Learn about Brigid's myths among the pagan Irish, the stories of Bride in Scotland, and the way that people today are finding and honoring this powerful and important deity to find the answer.
Pagan Portals - Brigid is a basic introduction to the Goddess Brigid focusing on her history and myth as well as her modern devotion and worship. Primarily looking at the Irish Goddess but including a discussion of her Pan-Celtic appearances, particularly in Scotland. Her different appearances in mythology are discussed along with the conflation of the pagan Goddess with Catholic saint. Modern methods for neopagans to connect to and honor this popular Goddess include offerings and meditation, and personal anecdotes from the author's experiences are included as well.
Who was Brigid to the pre-Christian pagans? Who is she today to neopagans? How do we re-weave the threads of the old pagan Goddess and the new? Learn about Brigid's myths among the pagan Irish, the stories of Bride in Scotland, and the way that people today are finding and honoring this powerful and important deity to find the answer.
No comments:
Post a Comment