Editorial Note: Liz Watkins will be sharing her journey through the path to ministry in these installments. This is the first of several updates.
Whenever people claimed they had a calling, I was somewhat skeptical. I think because it often seemed like they were making something they wanted to do more important and so saying they were “called” to do it gave the path an air of mystique. How is being called to a vocation different from just having a desire to do it? And what’s a vocation anyway? Is being an artist a vocation? What about being a truck driver?
If the Shoe Fits
When I was about 5 my dad told me that he felt like he had been wearing a pair of ill-fitting shoes and needed to find a pair that fit. This was his way of explaining to me that he had decided to leave his job as an accountant to become a vicar/Anglican minister. I remember this moment because the analogy he used made perfect sense to me. It was also when my life changed along with my mum’s and three siblings. The rest of my childhood was shaped by ministry: our house was the vicarage – the center of a religious community. My dad would dash from the dinner table to answer calls from people wanting to schedule weddings. My mum would be roped into bake sales and church fetes. Lost souls would knock at the front door asking for alms – which my dad always gave. When I stopped going to church in my early teens, I still attended good old C of E (Church of England) schools where prayer, hymns, and liturgy were woven into assemblies. In my late teens, I found Paganism and went away to university, saying goodbye to all that.
[courtesy of Pixabay
Your First Quest Shall Be…
Going into Pagan ministry is not as straightforward as it would be in a long-established tradition that has dominated the religious landscape of multiple countries for hundreds of years like Christianity. True, the Pagan community continues to grow and as we become less Eurocentric with our definition those numbers will be garnered by traditions that at one time were not given the attention they deserved. But we are still quite a small group. I do not believe the statistics we find reflect the true state of things of course. Many of you reading this may secretly identify as Pagan but do not feel open to sharing this with others. More still may be Pagan and just don’t know it yet.
If you want to be a Pagan minister or chaplain, you’re going to have to do some digging. If the old adage “many are called but few are chosen” pertains to Christian ministry then perhaps the Pagan version of this might be “many are called, but few can find the right website.” Pagan resources for ministry and chaplaincy are thin on the ground. I was lucky I already had ties with the Pagan seminary Cherry Hill, so I knew that I could enter their Community Ministry Certificate. The program is about fifteen months long, is fully online and I can choose to pursue ordination at the end, which is my intention. There is also a seminary, aptly called “Pagan Seminary” that prepares people for chaplaincy and Circle Sanctuary has a ministry training program too. While there are other programs out there, you are by no means spoilt for choice compared to other religions.
Ministry or Chaplaincy?
It’s necessary at this point to highlight how ministry and chaplaincy are different. Ministry typically means that you embark on a program of structured, spiritual development in order to serve your community’s spiritual needs such as conducting rituals and officiating at rites of passage. Key to this is that often the work is voluntary if you are Pagan.
Chaplaincy on the other hand is a paid role in which you support the spiritual needs of people in a particular setting, the most common being hospitals, hospices, the military, prisons, and higher education. While some chaplains might be hired in a particular faith it’s also likely you would be asked to serve people from a religious tradition that does not match your own. This vocation is highly specialized, often requiring a candidate to have a master’s in divinity as well as additional training based on the context.
The training is lengthy and, if you’re in the US, expensive. An MDiv takes three years full-time and depending on the institution, can cost upwards of $50,000 and I have seen plenty of programs that cost way more than that.
The Etruscan Pyramid at Bomarzo, Italy. Photo Credit: M. Tejeda-Moreno
The Path Less Traveled
Considering all the time, money, and effort required, it’s not surprising that Pagans are still underrepresented in interfaith and chaplaincy communities. We are a decentralized group and I think many of us were attracted to Paganism because it granted us autonomy in developing our own spiritual practices. Ministry might seem anathema to that highly prized value. I completely relate to that. But what I want to us to think about more is how this calling can help others and encourage community building.
Currently, I work in higher education and I am seeing firsthand how much people are feeling lost and broken. Our employees have gone through a shocking number of bereavements – myself included – and the secular nature of the college where I work makes it difficult for some of us to develop an opportunity to support each other through the trials of life. We are in the Bible Belt, so Christianity is pretty much covered, but what about the rest of us? Where do we go to grieve, discuss difficult questions, or simply sit together in companionable silence? We, Pagans, are better suited to this work than it may appear at first glance. We do not proselytize, and we don’t have a dogma. We welcome all and ask nothing of them. The fluid nature of Paganism is ideal for those who don’t fit in, who have a sense of spirituality but find organized religion doesn’t resonate. I feel we can minister to people on their own terms without compromising our personally held values and beliefs or bombarding individuals with intimidating notions of the Divine.
There’s a vacuum that needs to be filled. We often lament how we can’t be open about our path because we are so misunderstood or face harassment but in being so secretive we might be perpetuating prejudice. I am not saying that people should put their safety or the safety of their loved ones at risk by leaving the broom closet, I still struggle with having the guts to wear a pentacle most days. Nevertheless, being honest about Paganism could lead to greater understanding and less shame. We should have no use for shame it’s not really Pagan. My hope is that the moniker of “minister” will provide some legitimacy for my beloved path and in so doing pave the way for others.
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