Pagan Blessings Quotes

What use is a god with boundless mercy, sir? You mock me as a pagan, yet the gods of my ancestors pronounce clearly their ways and punish severely when we break their laws. Your Christian god of mercy gives men licence to pursue their greed, their lust for land and blood, knowing a few prayers and a little penance will bring forgiveness and blessing.

Helping the terminally ill to consciously end their lives is a crime, while denying health care to the living is seen as sound fiscal practice.

In the Bible, when God made a covenant with Abraham, He removed Abraham from the pagan world. The pagan system was such that if you were born poor, you were poor all of your life, and if you were born rich, you were rich all of your life. However, in their covenant, God said to Abraham, “You are going to increase and prosper.” This became the blessing, the rare and dramatic change that took place in Abraham’s lifetime, making Abraham different from the pagans. The pagans did not understand prosperity. They lived from hand to mouth and knew no other way of life.

It has been said that Christmas is for children; but as the years of childhood fancy pass away and an understanding maturity takes their place, the simple teaching of the Savior that ‘it is more blessed to give than to receive’ (Acts 20:35) becomes a reality. The evolution from a pagan holiday transformed into a Christian festival to the birth of Christ in men’s lives is another form of maturity that comes to one who has been touched by the gospel of Jesus Christ.

When I see the moon on a clear night, I do say "blessed be" and I remind myself to be grateful to the universe that I happen to exist in such a lovely and wondrous world, even and especially as I can rattle on about magma cooling, abiogenesis, and natural selection.

Christian humanists were engaged in a vast enterprise to make the spiritual and intellectual riches of ancient culture available to the Christian world; they did so with no sense of unease or internal conflict, for they believed that paganism – in other words, the ‘forces of nature’ themselves, not yet sanctified by the blessings of incarnation – could achieve splendid things in all areas of culture.

Ultimately, the roast turkey must be regarded as a monument to Boomer's love. Look at it now, plump and glossy, floating across Idaho as if it were a mammoth, mutated seed pod. Hear how it backfires as it passes the silver mines, perhaps in tribute to the origin of the knives and forks of splendid sterling that a roast turkey and a roast turkey alone possesses the charisma to draw forth into festivity from dark cupboards. See how it glides through the potato fields, familiarly at home among potatoes but with an air of expectation, as if waiting for the flood of gravy. The roast turkey carries with it, in its chubby hold, a sizable portion of our primitive and pagan luggage. Primitive and pagan? Us? We of the laser, we of the microchip, we of the Union Theological Seminary and Time magazine? Of course. At least twice a year, do not millions upon millions of us cybernetic Christians and fax machine Jews participate in a ritual, a highly stylized ceremony that takes place around a large dead bird? And is not this animal sacrificed, as in days of yore, to catch the attention of a divine spirit, to show gratitude for blessings bestowed, and to petition for blessings coveted? The turkey, slain, slowly cooked over our gas or electric fires, is the central figure at our holy feast. It is the totem animal that brings our tribe together. And because it is an awkward, intractable creature, the serving of it establishes and reinforces the tribal hierarchy. There are but two legs, two wings, a certain amount of white meat, a given quantity of dark. Who gets which piece; who, in fact, slices the bird and distributes its limbs and organs, underscores quite emphatically the rank of each member in the gathering. Consider that the legs of this bird are called 'drumsticks,' after the ritual objects employed to extract the music from the most aboriginal and sacred of instruments. Our ancestors, kept their drums in public, but the sticks, being more actively magical, usually were stored in places known only to the shaman, the medicine man, the high priest, of the Wise Old Woman. The wing of the fowl gives symbolic flight to the soul, but with the drumstick is evoked the best of the pulse of the heart of the universe. Few of us nowadays participate in the actual hunting and killing of the turkey, but almost all of us watch, frequently with deep emotion, the reenactment of those events. We watch it on TV sets immediately before the communal meal. For what are footballs if not metaphorical turkeys, flying up and down a meadow? And what is a touchdown if not a kill, achieved by one or the other of two opposing tribes? To our applause, great young hungers from Alabama or Notre Dame slay the bird. Then, the Wise Old Woman, in the guise of Grandma, calls us to the table, where we, pretending to be no longer primitive, systematically rip the bird asunder. Was Boomer Petaway aware of the totemic implications when, to impress his beloved, he fabricated an outsize Thanksgiving centerpiece? No, not consciously. If and when the last veil dropped, he might comprehend what he had wrought. For the present, however, he was as ignorant as Can o' Beans, Spoon, and Dirty Sock were, before Painted Stick and Conch Shell drew their attention to similar affairs. Nevertheless, it was Boomer who piloted the gobble-stilled butterball across Idaho, who negotiated it through the natural carving knives of the Sawtooth Mountains, who once or twice parked it in wilderness rest stops, causing adjacent flora to assume the appearance of parsley.

I’m a keeper of flocks. The flock is my thoughts And my thoughts are all sensations. I think with my eyes and with my ears And with my hands and feet And with my nose and mouth. Thinking about a flower is seeing and smelling it And eating a piece of fruit is knowing its meaning. That’s why when on a hot day I feel sad from liking it so much, And I throw myself lengthwise on the grass And shut my hot eyes, And feeling my whole body lying on reality, I know the truth and I’m happy.

Modernity has abandoned the household gods, not because we have rejected the idolatry as all Christians must, but because we have rejected the very idea of the household. We no longer worship Vesta, but have only turned away from her because our homes no longer have any hearths. Now we worship Motor Oil. If our rejection of the old idols were Christian repentance, God would bless it, but what is actually happening is that we are sinking below the level of the ancient pagans. But when we turn to Christ in truth, we find that He has ordained every day of marriage as a proclamation of his covenant with the church. A man who embraces what is expected of him will find a good wife and a welcoming hearth. He who loves his wife loves himself.

New Rule: Death isn’t always sad. This week, the Reverend Jerry Falwell died, and millions of Americans asked, “Why? Why, God? Why…didn’t you take Pat Robertson with him?” I don’t want to say Jerry was disliked by the gay community, but tonight in New York City, at exactly eight o’clock, Broadway theaters along the Great White Way turned their lights up for two minutes. I know you’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead, but I think we can make an exception, because speaking ill of the dead was kind of Jerry Falwell’s hobby. He’s the guy who said AIDS was God’s punishment for homosexuality and that 9/11 was brought on by pagans, abortionists, feminists, gays, and the ACLU—or, as I like to call them, my studio audience. It was surreal watching people on the news praise Falwell, followed by a clip package of what he actually said—things like: "Homosexuals are part of a vile and satanic system that will be utterly annihilated." "If you’re not a born-again Christian, you’re a failure as a human being." "Feminists just need a man in the house." "There is no separation of church and state." And, of course, everyone’s favorite: "The purple Teletubby is gay." Jerry Falwell found out you could launder your hate through the cover of “God’s will”—he didn’t hate gays, God does. All Falwell’s power came from name-dropping God, and gay people should steal that trick. Don’t say you want something because it’s your right as a human being—say you want it because it’s your religion. Gay men have been going at things backward. Forget civil right, and just make gayness a religion. I mean, you’re kneeling anyway. And it’s easy to start a religion. Watch, I’ll do it for you. I had a vision last night. The Blessed Virgin Mary came to me—I don’t know how she got past the guards—and she told me it’s time to take the high ground from the Seventh-day Adventists and give it to the twenty-four-hour party people. And that what happens in the confessional stays in the confessional. Gay men, don’t say you’re life partners. Say you’re a nunnery of two. “We weren’t having sex,officer. I was performing a very private mass.Here in my car. I was letting my rod and my staff comfort him.” One can only hope that as Jerry Falwell now approaches the pearly gates, he is met there by God Himself, wearing a Fire Island muscle shirt and nut-hugger shorts, saying to Jerry in a mighty lisp, “I’m not talking to you.

And you who seek to know Me, know that the seeking and yearning will avail you not, unless you know the Mystery: for if that which you seek, you find not within yourself, you will never find it without. For behold, I have been with you from the beginning, and I am That which is attained at the end of desire.

If you ever visit the Philippines and hear the jungle tribesmen call upon their gods for help, you'll discover that the names of the gods are supposed to have magic power. These people believe that when they invoke the name of a certain god, he must come and do their bidding--whether or not he wants to! Like many pagans, they believe a god is a kind of supernatural serving boy who will jump to help them the moment they snap their fingers. But the true God is not like that. He is the sovereign Ruler of the universe, who expects us to serve Him--not the other way around! So when we call upon the name of God, we are using a "handle" to bring Him to us. He will help us only if we have followed His commandments; He will put His promises into effect only if we have met the conditions of those promises. . . . These [New Testament apostles] were not ordering God around by using His "handle." Not by any means! They received God's blessing only because they were obedient to God in every way, including the manner in which they prayed. God instructed them to pray in His name; that's what we are expected to do as followers of Jesus Christ. But that in itself would not force God to do something against His will, nor would it force Him to bless someone unworthy of a blessing.

That day in Chartres they had passed through town and watched women kneeling at the edge of the water, pounding clothes against a flat, wooden board. Yves had watched them for a long time. They had wandered up and down the old crooked streets, in the hot sun; Eric remembered a lizard darting across a wall; and everywhere the cathedral pursued them. It is impossible to be in that town and not be in the shadow of those great towers; impossible to find oneself on those plains and not be troubled by that cruel and elegant, dogmatic and pagan presence. The town was full of tourists, with their cameras, their three-quarter coats, bright flowered dresses and shirts, their children, college insignia, Panama hats, sharp, nasal cries, and automobiles crawling like monstrous gleaming bugs over the laming, cobblestoned streets. Tourist buses, from Holland, from Denmark, from Germany, stood in the square before the cathedral. Tow-haired boys and girls, earnest, carrying knapsacks, wearing khaki-colored shorts, with heavy buttocks and thighs, wandered dully through the town. American soldiers, some in uniform, some in civilian clothes, leaned over bridges, entered bistros in strident, uneasy, smiling packs, circled displays of colored post cards, and picked up meretricious mementos, of a sacred character. All of the beauty of the town, all the energy of the plains, and all the power and dignity of the people seemed to have been sucked out of them by the cathedral. It was as though the cathedral demanded, and received, a perpetual, living sacrifice. It towered over the town, more like an affliction than a blessing, and made everything seem, by comparison with itself, wretched and makeshift indeed. The houses in which the people lived did not suggest shelter, or safety. The great shadow which lay over them revealed them as mere doomed bits of wood and mineral, set down in the path of a hurricane which, presently, would blow them into eternity. And this shadow lay heavy on the people, too. They seemed stunted and misshapen; the only color in their faces suggested too much bad wine and too little sun; even the children seemed to have been hatched in a cellar. It was a town like some towns in the American South, frozen in its history as Lot's wife was trapped in salt, and doomed, therefore, as its history, that overwhelming, omnipresent gift of God, could not be questioned, to be the property of the gray, unquestioning mediocre.

In other words, the Reformers only recovered the priesthood of the believer (singular). They reminded us that every Christian has individual and immediate access to God. As wonderful as that is, they did not recover the priesthood of all believers (collective plural). This is the blessed truth that every Christian is part of a clan that shares God’s Word one with another. (It was the Anabaptists who recovered this practice. Regrettably, this recovery was one of the reasons why Protestant and Catholic swords were red with Anabaptist blood.)

Bless me, readers, for I have published. It's been five years since my last book. Greetings, fellow sinners! If you picked up a copy of this book, it means you are either: 1) wracked with guilt and are looking for penance, or 2) need to spend over $10.00 at the airport newsstand so you can use your credit card. Either way, welcome to Stephen Colbert's Midnight Confessions. As America's foremost TV Catholic, it was natural for me to do a segment inspired by the church. After all, the Catholic Church and late night TV actually have a lot in common: our shows last about an hour, we're obsessed with reaching younger demographics, and the hosts are almost always men. This religious-adjacent tome contains all my favorite confessions from The Late Show. These are things that aren't necessarily sins, but I do feel guilty about them. For instance, repackaging material from the show and selling it in a book. I've always been a big fan of confession. The confessional is a great place to go to relieve yourself of your sins. Unless you're claustrophobic, in which case it's a suffocating death trap of despair! And while most confession books just give you run-of-the-mill mortal sins, I go one step further and provide you with mortal sins, venial sins, deadly sins, and even sins of omission (Notice that the previous sentence didn't have a period!) This book is a throwback to a simpler life when people would go to a priest to confess their sins. As opposed to how it's done now - getting drunk and weeping to Andy Cohen on Bravo. Confessing your sins is a great way to get things off your chest. Second only to waxing. The only downside is that you get introduced to it as a kid, before you have any juicy sins to confess. Oh, you stole a cookie? That's adorable, Becky. Come back when you total your dad's Chevy. Now you might be asking yourself, "What if I'm not Catholic - can I still enjoy this book?" Of course. After all, no matter what religion you are - be it Jewish, Muslim, Lutheran, Pagan, or SoulCycle - we all have things to feel guilty about. For example, not being Catholic.

Napoleon respected Islam, regarding the Koran as ‘not just religious; it is civil and political. The Bible only preaches morals.’52 He was also impressed by the way that the Muslims ‘tore more souls away from false gods, toppled more idols, pulled down more pagan temples in fifteen years than the followers of Moses and Christ had in fifteen centuries’.53* He had no objection to polygamy, saying that Egyptian men were gourmands en amour, and, when permitted, ‘will prefer having wives of various colours’.54† His flattery of the ulama (clergy), his discussions of the Koran, and his holding out the possibility of his conversion to Islam – as well as his attempts to impress the sheikhs with French science – were all intended to establish a collaborationist body of Egyptians, with mixed results. As it turned out, no amount of complying with Islamic ceremonies, salutations and usages prevented Selim III from declaring jihad against the French in Egypt, meaning that any attacks upon them were thenceforth blessed.

The substitution of the Names of Yahweh and Yahshua, by the names of pagan gods (elohim), has brought immeasurable harm. Such names as Lord, God, Jesus, and Christ in no way represent the meaning of the NAME revealed by Yahweh our Heavenly Father to Mosheh, and to the ancient Hebrews. By employing these names, the people unknowingly turn the worship of Yahweh into that of gods (elohim), and actually ascribe the loving and merciful characteristics of the Father of Israyl, to the pagan gods (elohim)! Hosheyah 2:8--''For she did not realize that it was I Who gave her grain, wine, and oil, and multiplied her silver and gold--which they sacrificed to Baal; thinking it was the Lord that gave these blessings!'' In their The Kingdom Interlinear Translation of the Greek Scriptures (the Jehovah's Witnesses), The Watchtower Bible and Tract Society of New York, Inc., admit in their Foreword (Page 23) that: "While inclined to view the pronunciation 'Yahweh' as the more correct way, we have retained the form 'Jehovah' because

An Atheopagan Prayer by Mark Green Praise to the wide spinning world Unfolding each of all the destined tales compressed In the moment of your catastrophic birth Wide to the fluid expanse, blowing outward Kindling in stars and galaxies, in bright pools Of Christmas-colored gas; cohering in marbles hot And cold, ringed, round, gray and red and gold and dun And blue Pure blue, the eye of a child, spinning in a veil of air, Warm island, home to us, kind beyond measure: the stones And trees, the round river flowing sky to deepest chasm, salt And sweet. Praise to Time, enormous and precious, And we with so little, seeing our world go as it will Ruing, cheering, the treasured fading, precious arriving, Fear and wonder, Fear and wonder always. Praise O black expanse of mostly nothing Though you do not hear, you have no ear nor mind to hear Praise O inevitable, O mysterious, praise Praise and thanks be a wave Expanding from this tiny temporary mouth this tiny dot Of world a bubble Going out forever meeting everything as it goes All the great and infinitesimal Gracious and terrible All the works of blessed Being. May it be so. May it be so. May our hearts sing to say it is so.

Few things once seemed to me more frigid and far-fetched than those interpretations […] of the Song of Songs, which identify the Bridegroom with Christ and the bride with the Church. Indeed, as we read the frank erotic poetry of the latter and contrast it with the edifying headlines in our Bibles, it is easy to be moved to a smile, even a cynically knowing smile, as if the pious interpreters were feigning an absurd innocence. […] First, the language of nearly all great mystics, not even in a common tradition, some of them Pagan, some Islamic, most Christian, confronts us with evidence that the image of marriage, of sexual union, is not only profoundly natural but almost inevitable as a means of expressing the desired union between God and man. The very word ‘union’ has already entailed some such idea. Secondly, the god as bridegroom, his ‘holy marriage’ with the goddess, is a recurrent theme and a recurrent ritual in many forms of Paganism […] And if, as I believe, Christ, in transcending and thus abrogating, also fulfils, both Paganism and Judaism, then we may expect that He fulfils this side of it too. This, as well as all else, is to be ‘summed up’ in Him. Thirdly, the idea appears, in a slightly different form, within Judaism. For the mystics God is the Bridegroom of the individual soul. For the Pagans, the god is the bridegroom of the mother-goddess, the earth, but his union with her also makes fertile the whole tribe and its livestock, so that in a sense he is their bridegroom too. The Judaic conception is in some ways closer to the Pagan than to that of the mystics, for in it the Bride of God is the whole nation, Israel. This is worked out in one of the most moving and graphic chapters of the whole Old Testament (Ezek. 16). Finally, this is transferred in the Apocalypse from the old Israel to the new, and the Bride becomes the Church, ‘the whole blessed company of faithful people’. It is this which has, like the unworthy bride in Ezekiel, been rescued, washed, clothed, and married by God—a marriage like King Cophetua’s.

THE RETURN OF THE GODS Like a white bird upon the wind, the sail of the boat of Manannan mac Lir (Pronounced Mananarn mak Leer), the Son of the Sea, flew across the sparkling waves filled with the breeze that blew Westward to the Islands of the Blessed. The Sun Goddess above him smiled down with warmth upon her friend. The fish in the ocean danced for him beneath the turquoise water; the porpoises leapt above the waves to greet him. Upon the wind was a smell of sweetness, the smell of apple blossom in the Spring of the morning of the world. And in the prow of the boat sat Lugh (Pronounced Loo) the long-armed; strumming on his harp, he sang the Song of Creation. And as they drew closer to the green hills of Ireland, the holy land of Ireland, the Shee came out of their earth-barrow homes and danced for joy beneath the Sun. For hidden in a crane-skin sack at the bottom of the boat was the Holy Cup of Blessedness. Long had been her journeying through lands strange and far. And all who drank of that Cup, dreamed the dreams of holy truth, and drank of the Wine of everlasting life. And deep within the woods, in a green-clad clearing, where the purple anemone and the white campion bloomed, where primroses still lingered on the shadowed Northern side, a great stag lifted up his antlered head and sniffed the morning. His antlers seven-forked spoke of mighty battles fought and won, red was his coat, the colour of fire, and he trotted out of his greenwood home, hearing on the wind the song of Lugh. And in her deep barrow home, the green clad Goddess of Erin, remembered the tongue that she had forgotten. She remembered the secrets of the weaving of spells, She remembered the tides of woman and the ebb and flow of wave and Moon. She remembered the people who had turned to other Gods and coming out of her barrow of sleep, her sweet voice echoed the verses of Lugh and the chorus of Manannan. And the great stag of the morning came across the fields to her and where had stood the Goddess now stood a white hind. And the love of the God was returned by the Goddess and the larks of Anghus mac Og hovering above the field echoed with ecstasy the Song of Creation. And in the villages and towns the people came out of their houses, hearing the sweet singing and seeking its source. And children danced in the streets with delight. And they went down to the shore, the Eastern shore, where rises the Sun of the Morning, and awaited the coming of Manannan and Lugh, the mast of their boat shining gold in the Sun. The sea had spoken, the Eastern dawn had given up her secret, the Gods were returning, the Old Ones awakening, joy was returning unto the sleeping land.  

ministry. Sadly, there has never been a city on earth that is not saturated with human sin and corruption. Indeed, to paraphrase a Woody Allen joke, cities are just like everywhere else, only much more so. They are both better and worse, both easier and harder to live in, both more inspiring and oppressive, than other places. As redemptive history unfolds, we begin to see how the tension of the city will be resolved. The turn in the relationship between the people of God and the pagan city becomes a key aspect of God’s plan to bless the nations and redeem the world. In the New Testament, we find cities playing an important role in the rapid growth of the early church and in spreading the gospel message of God’s salvation.

These were hard times, heart-breaking...Sometimes at pagan shrines they vowed offering to idols, swore oaths that the killer of souls might come to their aid and save the people. That was their way, their heathenish hope; deep in their hearts they remembered hell. The Almighty Judge of good deeds and bad, the Lord God, Head of the Heavens and High King of the World, was unknown to them. Oh, cursed is he who in time of trouble has to thrust his soul in the fire's embrace, forfeiting help; he has nowhere to turn. But blessed is he who after death can approach the Lord and find friendship in the Father's embrace.

It is, indeed, true for pagans that the greatest blessing is not to be born, and the next, to die immediately.

Blessings and Sacraments The following are some of the actual words spoken by those who sanctify the killing of unborn children. Notice the framing of the act in religious and spiritual terms—as well as the word sacrifice: Our culture needs new rituals as well as laws to restore abortion to its sacred dimension.8 Abortion [is] a major blessing, and…a sacrament in the hands of women.9 It is not immoral to choose abortion; it is simply another kind of morality, a pagan one.10 Abortion is a sacrifice.11 Abortion is a sacred act.12 There is nothing else needing to be written here. Nothing could in any way add to or take away from the significance or horror of such words.

Today, we give thanks to the cycle of rebirth For the grains, corn, and fruit that we pluck from the earth To those who carry with them the seed of new life That we reap during harvest with the basket and scythe We give thanks for the blessings upon fertile ground That keeps us fed and hale all the year-’round Everything that is and all that has been Carried forth by faithful servants within A blessing unto nature and the goddess of three Ever sacred is your will that is worked through me.

Our natural state at birth and throughout life is one of being inherently sacred, worthy, and blessed.

the desire to be righteous on account of one’s own works is characteristic of blind paganism; desiring to be blessed without works, through faith in Christ, that is the characteristic of Christianity. This is why Christianity is a deep mystery, hidden from natural man.

We must respect the catholicity of the church even to the extent that it has, according to God’s purpose, spread among the human race in corrupted forms. Christendom in its entirety is the people of God that in the days of the New Testament has taken the place of Israel. Thereby Scripture also directly opposes all those who, in over-emphasizing principles and craving for consistency, would rather see those who bear the name of Christ while denying the Christ of Scripture surrender the name Christian and return to paganism, purely in the interest of consistency. There are people who seem to take delight, with the broom of “necessary consequence,” in sweeping away the Ethicals into the company of the Modernists, and the Modernists into the company of the Socialists, and the Socialists into the company of the Nihilists —Page 126— and Anarchists. But the calling of the minister of the gospel is to rescue what can still be rescued, and to see people’s manifold inconsistencies as a blessing and a demonstration of God’s restraining grace.

Do not worship Yahweh your Creator in the way these pagan peoples worship their gods. Rather, you must seek Yahweh your Creator at the place He Himself will choose from among all the tribes for His name to be honored. There you will bring to Yahweh your burnt offerings, your sacrifices, your tithes, your special gifts, your offerings to fulfill a vow, your freewill offerings, and your offerings of the firstborn animals of your flocks and herds. There you and your families will feast in the presence of Yahweh your Creator, and you will rejoice in all you have accomplished because Yahweh your Creator has blessed you. —Deuteronomy 12:4-7

desire for Oisin’s delightful tales of these brave Pagans would overcome in Patrick the zest for theological controversy — “Oisin, sweet to me is thy voice, And a blessing, furthermore, on the soul of Fionn! Relate to us how many deer Were slain at Sliabh-nam-Ban-Fionn.” And, Oisin, mollified, forgiving and forgetting Patrick’s strictures on his Fian fellows, would forthwith launch into another of his rare tales.

Some Christians are shocked to learn that when they call on the name of “The LORD,” they are actually calling upon the name of the pagan deity, Ba’al.  Christians find this fact very confusing, because they have received so many blessings by calling upon the name of “The LORD” in the past.  However, without condemnation or judgment, once we have learned that the name “LORD” translates to Ba’al (both in ancient and modern Hebrew), then why not use YHWH’s true Name? (If names are not important, and if it is OK to call YHWH by the names of other deities (such as Ba’al), then why not simply call Him “Satan”?)

God redeemed them, and then told them to do something that would lead to blessing, which required obedience, and they refused to do it, an act of rebellion.  They had the audacity to decide that His commandments were optional, and so they did not enter into His promises – even after seeing the plagues of Egypt and the Red Sea part and the mountain covered with fire.  They did it at Sinai with the Golden Calf right after the first Ten Commandments were given,[36] they did it again when ten of the spies brought an evil report and the people refused to go into the Land,[37] and then again when they whored with the pagan women![38]  They did not treat God like He was God.  They violated the very word and spirit of the Covenant.

These blasphemous thoughts were such as stirred up questions in me against the very being of God, and of His only beloved Son: As, whether there were in truth, a God or Christ?  And whether the holy scriptures were not rather a fable, and cunning story, than the holy and pure word of God? 97.  The tempter would also much assault me with this, How can you tell but that the Turks had as good scriptures to prove their Mahomet the Saviour, as we have to prove our Jesus is?  And, could I think, that so many ten thousands, in so many countries and kingdoms, should be without the knowledge of the right way to heaven, (if there were indeed a heaven); and that we only, who live in a corner of the earth, should alone be blessed therewith?  Every one doth think his own religion rightest, both Jews and Moors, and Pagans; and how if all our faith, and Christ, and scriptures, should be but a think so too?

By the same token, the overseers are usually the descendants of Cockneys who were born not far from Bow bells. The profanity and coarseness and violent metaphors of a truly pagan race are of course the gifts of the Irish, God bless their souls. But perhaps the greatest contribution is from the people who were brought to the New World on slave ships during the era of the Middle Passage. It’s the iambic line. Listen to it sometime. Every other syllable is accented. Any British poet would immediately recognize it.

Lord our God, king of the universe, who dost create the fruit of the vine.” But by saying, “the cup of blessing that we bless,” Paul is contrasting it with both the Passover cup and whatever drinking was done in the pagan meals. It doubtless refers to the eucharistic cup, the “cup of the Lord

One rule I hope I always manage to stick to is this: never deal out “like for like.” Though the temptation will at times be intense, it will only be returned with even greater force. Hatred only breeds more hatred. Bless don’t curse. Curses contain a sinister sticky substance that stains the curser as much as the one being cursed. Be honest. Yes, say if something has hurt you, but do not retaliate with vengefulness. Let love be the inner guide. Fear is the poison of the soul. It manifests in violence, either literal violence or violent thoughts, and both can kill.

My Letter to God: Source of all. What’s happening? Why the confusion? Why do I still continue to make life so difficult for myself? I am so blessed, so free, so spiritually rich, yet still can’t grasp who I am or even who you are! There are so many contradictions. There is so much I don’t understand. I don’t know where I belong anymore. I can’t see a way to a community where I can grow/develop/explore. I still love Jesus but find his church so hard, even meaningless at times. I love the Druid path but still feel drawn to a great God/dess, a holding, healing, loving presence. Where has my Jesus gone? Where is he now? Who is he now? Can I still somehow follow you, Jesus, and also continue my Pagan journey? What is the way for me now? Please guide me. What is my new calling? I still love you!

Israel in Egypt God called Abraham to leave his home in Mesopotamia (modern Iraq) for a land that his descendants would receive as their own. Why, then, did God multiply Israel into a nation of two million in Egypt rather than Canaan? There seem to be at least five reasons: First, it was necessary that Israel be formed as a nation in circumstances that kept her distinct and unique. In Canaan, Jacob’s family was almost absorbed by the existing population (see Genesis 34). In Egypt, on the other hand, Israel never risked assimilation; the Egyptians took care to segregate the Hebrews because they scorned shepherds (see Genesis 46:28–47:6). Second, in Egypt, God preserved Israel from the moral corruption that was so rife in Canaan. While the Egyptians were pagans, their religious and social practices were not as debauched (the Canaanites practiced child sacrifice and ritual prostitution). Third, Israel would be God’s instrument of judgment against the wicked Canaanites. God was waiting until “the sin of the Amorites [the Canaanites] . . . reached its full measure” (Genesis 15:16). Then He would bring His people in to annihilate them. Fourth, Israel had to learn to trust God rather than men. As long as there was a pharaoh who remembered Joseph, the Hebrews were treated with respect. But when a pharaoh arose who did not “know” Joseph, they fell quickly from favor. Clearly, dependence on God rather than political alliances was the only way for Israel to survive. Finally, God desired to birth Israel in circumstances that would display His power and glory. As Israel multiplied even under oppression, it became evident to everyone that God’s blessing was upon His people.

But blessing and protecting someone because they abide by your rules or love you back isn’t agape love. It’s merely insurance protecting our own investments. And Jesus said even the pagans know how to do that. When it comes to the foundational way Jesus called us to follow through, we don’t get a safety net. Love costs us. And sometimes the cost of love is pain, grief, and heartbreak. Love means laying down our lives:

Here we see the inversion of the pagan view that God desires humans to fulfill some need on His part, which He will reward with blessings. Rather, God desires that human persons share in His life by participating in His working in the world, that they become righteous by participating in His righteousness, good by participating in His goodness, holy by participating in His holiness, and so on. He desires that they function as His image.

To fade away at the end of a long life is a blessing from the gods; to die prematurely is a curse.

The unsuspicious testimony of Bishop Hay leaves no doubt on this point: "It" [the water kept in the baptismal font], says he, "is blessed on the eve of Pentecost, because it is the Holy Ghost who gives to the waters of baptism the power and efficacy of sanctifying our souls, and because the baptism of Christ is 'with the Holy Ghost, and with fire' (Matt. iii. 11). In blessing the waters, a LIGHTED TORCH is put into the font." Here, then, it is manifest that the baptismal regenerating water of Rome is consecrated just as the regenerating and purifying water of the Pagans was. Of what avail is it for Bishop Hay to say, with the view of sanctifying superstition and "making apostasy plausibly," that this is due "to represent the fire of Divine love, which is communicated to the soul by baptism, and the light of good example, which all who are baptised ought to give." This is the fair face put on the matter; but the fact still remains that while the Romish doctrine in regard to baptism is purely Pagan, in the ceremonies connected with the Papal baptism one of the essential rites of the ancient fire-worship is still practised at this day, just as it was practised by the worshippers of Bacchus, the Babylonian Messiah.

Popery inspires the same feeling in regard to the Romish queen of heaven, and leads its devotees to view the sin of Eve in much the same light as that in which Paganism regarded it. In the Canon of the Mass, the most solemn service in the Romish Missal, the following expression occurs, where the sin of our first parent is apostrophised: "O beata culpa, quae talem meruisti redemptorem." "Oh blessed fault, which didst procure such a Redeemer!" The idea contained in these words is purely Pagan. They just amount to this: "Thanks be to Eve, to whose sin we are indebted for the glorious Saviour.

Before Christianity entered the British Isles, the Pagan festival of the 24th of June was celebrated among the Druids by blazing fires in honour of their great divinity, who, as we have already seen, was Baal. "These Midsummer fires and sacrifices," says Toland, in his Account of the Druids, "were [intended] to obtain a blessing on the fruits of the earth, now becoming ready for gathering; as those of the first of May, that they might prosperously grow; and those of the last of October were a thanksgiving for finishing the harvest.

Like A Stone" On a cobweb afternoon in a room full of emptiness By a freeway, I confess I was lost in the pages Of a book full of death, reading how we'll die alone And if we're good, we'll lay to rest anywhere we want to go In your house I long to be Room by room patiently I'll wait for you there like a stone I'll wait for you there alone And on my deathbed I will pray to the gods and the angels Like a pagan to anyone who will take me to heaven To a place I recall, I was there so long ago The sky was bruised, the wine was bled, and there you led me on In your house I long to be Room by room, patiently I'll wait for you there like a stone I'll wait for you there alone, alone And on I read until the day was gone And I sat in regret of all the things I've done For all that I've blessed, and all that I've wronged In dreams until my death I will wander on In your house I long to be Room by room, patiently I'll wait for you there like a stone I'll wait for you there alone, alone Audioslave (2002)

My own desire is, for the common good of the world and the advantage of all mankind, that Thy people [Christians] should enjoy a life of peace and undisturbed concord. So let those who still delight in error [the pagan majority] be made welcome to the same degree of peace and tranquility which those who believe have. For it may be that this restoration of equal privileges to all [i.e., the removal of repressions of the Church] will prevail to lead them [pagans] into the straight path. Let no one molest another, but let every one do as his soul desires. . . . We pray, however, that they [pagans] too may receive the same blessing, and thus experience that heartfelt joy which unity of sentiment inspires. . . . Once more, let none use that to the detriment of another which he may himself have received on conviction of its truth; but let everyone, if it be possible, apply what he has understood and known to the benefit of his neighbour. (“Constantine’s Edict to the People of the Provinces on the Error of Polytheism,” Life of Constantine 2.56 in The Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, 512–14.) For