Boasts, Oaths, and Asking of the Gods

Almost a month ago, I had the opportunity to attend an intimate, informal Yule sumbel - one of the highlights of the ritual year for me.  Surrounded by friends, some Heathen and some not, we drank to the Gods, our ancestors, and spent a few rounds boasting and oathing.

Just a few days before, I had run across a real treasure online - a vintage organ with a full pedalboard, in brilliant condition, for a pretty reasonable asking price.  I'm something of a music nerd; I play several instruments passably well and am always excited by the prospect of something new and beautiful - and this organ was certainly beautiful.  The owner wasn't getting back to me, and I was getting a little anxious about it.  Organs aren't exactly in high demand, but this was a great price and a unique instrument.

From my research, it seems we don't have a lot of examples of exactly the form an oath would have taken during sumbel.  But thinking about that organ I was inspired to make an oath to the Gods - in exchange for Their assistance.  I promised offerings of music and song, practice sessions dedicated to deities, if only the Gods would help to make this instrument mine.

Now, I'm not one to place at the feet of the supernatural what can be attributed to good old fashioned work.  But the next morning when I woke, an email was waiting for me agreeing to my bargained asking price and asking me to come get that organ as soon as possible.  I called the movers and the instrument was in my house the very next day!  Of course it could just be coincidence, but I'm not about to short my deities on offerings if They were the driving force behind this sudden contact; and so nightly practice sessions have begun at my house.

I've had people doubt the fitting nature of music as an offering.  "Singing a song is so easy," they've said.  "It's hardly as good as a nice bottle of mead."  I couldn't disagree more.  Sure, singing a song is pretty simple - but first you have to learn it (maybe write it!), practice it, polish it so that it's fit for performance - we're talking hours of work and pre-planning.  Besides, I like to think that the Gods and wights (and I know my ancestors!) like a good song just as much as they like a good bottle of mead.  My deities know how to have a good time.

So that's the story of how my unconventional oath turned out amazingly for me, and the Gods and spirits got Their due in return.

A Yule Toast to the Gods of Peace and Good Seasons

photo courtesy of wikicommons

The Saga of Hákon the Good was written sometime in the 1260's, describing the reign of King Hákon I, who took the throne in 1217 and died in 1263.  There is a lot of interesting Heathen details scattered throughout this work, which talks about the time of transition from Pagan beliefs into Christianity for Norway.  But one of the gems is the description of a Yule ritual, at which a feast is eaten and offered to the Gods, and many toasts are drunk to the deities.  The ritual I have written here is an attempt to give form to the rather dry writing of the Saga, but certainly shouldn't be mistaken for a historically accurate representation!

Gather your holy liquid - either mead or water depending on how sticky you want things to get!  Say a prayer over the liquid, such as:


"This water is consecrated to the Gods, the wights, and my ancestors who watch over my steps.  May it please the spirits and make holy all it touches."

In the Saga, the liquid is sprinkled over the altars, the gathered people, and both the inside and outside of the temple.  For my celebration, I sprinkle my indoor altar, the thresholds of my home, and around the trees and garden - do whatever feels right for your home or gathering.  Repeat while sprinkling:
"Hail to the Gods and Goddesses.  Hail to the wights of the land.  Hail to my ancestors of blood and spirit.  Make this place sacred by your hand."

 Once you are finished, come to your table or hearth and set the remainder of the liquid aside.  Sit down to feast and offer it to the spirits, saying:
"This feast is consecrated to the Gods, the wights, and my ancestors who watch over my steps.  Thank you for your bounty."



Pour out a glass of whatever you are drinking - I always find that mead is beloved of many of the northern Gods and spirits, but fresh water is also appreciated by deities of the earth.  Lift it in a toast, saying:
"Hail Odhinn, the one-eyed wanderer, giver of Runic knowledge: for success and victory in the year to come, I ask You!" Drink the toast.

Pour another and say:
"Hail Njord, God of the waters, giver of bounty: for prosperity and a good season in the year to come, I ask You!"  Drink the toast.

Pour another and say:
"Hail Frey, married to the land, bringing peace in Your wagon: for joy and bounty in the year to come, I ask you!"  Drink the toast.



Pour another and say:
"Hail the Hidden folk, landvaettir and wights who dwell in this place: for friendship and peace in the year to come, I ask you!"  Drink the toast.

Pour another and say:
"Hail my Ancestors and departed friends, who are remembered on this night: stay with me in the year to come, I ask you!"  Drink the toast.

Outside or on your altar, leave a plate of food and pour out the consecrated liquid for the deities and spirits.  Say a quick ending prayer, such as:
"Gods and Goddesses, wights of the land, beloved dead who watch my steps, thank you for all you have done for me this past year.  Pour out your blessings in the new year as I pour out offerings to you.  Hail!"

High Holy Day Essay: Yule

I attended a few Yule rituals this year, but I'd like to write again about the ritual put on by Prairie Shadow Protogrove. This was one I cobbled together from a few different rituals I found on the website, and was held at my home. It was a Germanic ritual to honor the return of Sunna at the solstice. The participants came down the porch stairs into my backyard, each sprinkled with a bit of water and given a candle for purification by fire and water as they entered. We welcomed Nerthus as the Earth Mother, and offered to the Fire, Well, and Tree. We invited Heimdall as our Gatekeeper, and then the Three Kindreds. Sunna was called as the Being of the Occasion, and we performed a gradual extinguishing of all the candles, including those held by the participants, mimicking the darkness of the long night of the Solstice - this was based on a Solstice ritual by Ian Corrigan. After taking a favorable omen heralding change and transformation as the gifts of the Kindreds, we asked for blessing on the Waters of Life (a choice of mead or cider). After giving out the Waters, another poem was read and the candles were gradually re-lit, the flame passing from person to person, mimicking the return of Sunna on the Solstice morn. Then Sunna and the Kindreds were thanked, the Gates were closed and thanks given to Heimdall, and the last of the offerings given to Nerthus. The ritual was ended.

 So, about five months after attending my first public Pagan ritual, I was thrown into leading one. I was very nervous, between opening up my home to many people I'd never met, and having to actually stand in front of those people and talk to them with a script featuring many words I certainly hadn't grown up pronouncing. I tend to be hard on myself, and so I will attempt to limit my complaints. The biggest problem was the water that was sprinkled at the start of the ritual - it sloshed out of the bowl and onto my script, which I then had to peel apart whenever I needed to turn a page. My husband also commented that my natural demeanor is rather cheery, which may have interfered with the solemnity of the ritual. Personally, I find it hard to sense energy when I am concentrating on so many other things like reading in front of others, who I'm supposed to be offering to, and so on. It seemed as if the other participants enjoyed the ritual, for which I was glad. I was personally unsatisfied; but I don't think I would have been happy if it had gone anything short of absolutely perfectly, and realistically there were no major disasters and all seemed to go mostly well.