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from the lotta-lance dept.
Per request, here's the Lammastide ritual I put together for Thelema Lodge, which we performed last night.
It's something of a distillation of some ideas I've held for a long time, as well as incorporating two kinds of Celtic myth, the Dream of the Rood, the Havamál, John Barleycorn, and (not surprisingly for me these days ... ;) Parsifal. With the little Thelemic twist at the end. All the not obviously quoted poetry in it was written new by me for this, except for the Goliard song (whose title is "Regulus"), which I wrote longer ago than I like to think, and actually has music too. Hope y'all like.
The temple is opened in Fire, and with the Call of the 25th Aethyr. The celebrants enter in procession: Bríd, bearing an amphora; Gronw, bearing a loaf of barley bread; Lugh, bearing a spear. Gronw sets the bread on the altar, where already are set a shrouded cup and an ear of grain. Bríd stands to the West, Gronw to the South, Lugh to the East.
The celebrants enter in procession: Bríd, bearing an amphora; Gronw, bearing a loaf of barley bread; Lugh, bearing a spear. Gronw sets the bread on the altar, where already are set a shrouded cup and an ear of grain. Bríd stands to the West, Gronw to the South, Lugh to the East.
"Thus doth the fire of the sun temper the spear of Mars, and thus shall he be worshipped, as the warrior lord of the sun."
There's an oak that grows on a high plain;
The young hero stripped himself -- that was God almighty --
(Gronw takes the spear and mimes stabbing Lugh with it along with Bríd's narrative)
I know I hung
The heights were mine, and mine the fires thereon,
In me their angel warrior they scried;
That hero who once suffered on the tree,
Self-slain, with this, the spear that I have made,
Again from off my breast it breaks the seal,
Who shall against my suffering prevail?
(Bríd takes up the ear of grain)
(She whispers to each person in the circle in turn, "The Lance and the Grail are one." She touches Lugh's side with the grain.)What wounded you now heals you of your wound;
The Lion roars; your sacrifice is ended.
Be never more the hero ever-dying;
be rather now the ever-borning child.
I see this weapon pour with holy blood,
in yearning for that other, kindred fount
which wells within and flows out from the Grail.
The Lion roars; no more shall it be hidden:
open the shrine, and let the Grail be seen!
(Lugh uncovers the cup; Bríd pours out her amphora into it; she and Lugh pass the bread and cup among the people during the following.)
Slashed and broken, burned and boiled,
Furze is blooming in the meadow
And life shall triumph as the barley is cut down,
Once everyone in the circle has had a communion, Lugh administers to Gronw and Bríd, and then the celebrants process out in the reverse order they came in, except with Lugh bearing the cup and the last of the bread, Gronw the spear. The temple is closed.
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