Beloved Ferdiad
Before committing to druidry, I explored Wicca and had a brief but exciting
fling with Kemeticism (Wepwawet still says hello occasionally, bless him.)
One of the many things that attracted me to druid philosophies was their
stance on sexuality and gender. My understanding of druid beliefs is based
on the shards that remain in the commentaries (often biassed) of Classical
writers, the monastic-authored versions of old myths, and my personal gnosis
with the Gods and other spirits. An academic might argue that my grasp of
“ye olde druids” owes more to unconscious projection than to
objective historical fact. If that is the case, it doesn’t matter
overly much ~ so long as my direct experience of the Gods is sound, should
the rest be more fantasy than fact, at least it inspires me to live a better
life in the 21st Century.
Anyway, self-justifications aside, one of the myths that most moved me
on first reading it was that of Ferdiad and Cuchulainn. To summarise, Queen
Medb of the Connacht leads armies to raid the lands of the Ulaid tribes.
A curse renders the Ulaid defenceless, save for the mighty warrior Cuchulainn.
Single-handed he defends the territories. Finally Medb turns to a famous
warrior from the Connacht, who has so far avoided battle ~ Ferdiad. He is
an intimate friend of Cuchulainn from schooldays, and refuses to fight his
old comrade. Medb tries threats and bribery, before finally succeeding by
getting him drunk and implying that Cuchulainn has questioned his courage.
Rashly, Ferdiad swears to take on the Hound of Ulster ~ an oath he cannot
renege on, even when he awakes hung-over in the morning.
They meet at a river ford which demarks one tribe-land from the other,
and battle all day. When night falls, they cast aside their weapons and
wade to the midpoint of the ford. There they hug each other and kiss three
times. This pattern is repeated for two more days, until on the fourth day
Cuchulainn finally kills his friend. Early Irish manuscripts record a number
of poems which Cuchulainn sings over the corpse, too long to fully recount
here. The more moving excerpts I give below.
Ropdhar cocle cridi,
ropdhar caemthe caille,
ropdhar fir chomdeirgide
contulmis tromchotlud
ar trommnithaib.
i crichaib ilib echtrannaib,
aroen imreidmis
imtheigmis cach fid,
forcetul fri Scathaig.
We were heart-companions once,
We were comrades in the woods,
We were men that shared a bed
When we slept the heavy sleep
After hard and weary fights.
Into many lands, so strange,
And side by side we sallied forth
And we ranged the woodlands through,When with Scathach we learned arms!
It is, of course, possible to share a bed with someone without having sex
with them, yet the subsequent praising of his manly beauty does suggest
a decidedly romantic aspect to their friendship. Perhaps I’m biassed,
but I see in this a strong suggestion of an erotic relationship.
Inmain lemm do ruidiud ran,
Inmain do chruth caem comlan,
Inmain do rosc glass glanba (no gregda)
Inmain t'alaig (no t'alle) is t'irlabra.
Dear to me thy noble blush,
Dear thy comely, perfect form;
Dear thine eye, blue-grey and clear,
Dear thy wisdom and thy speech.
Homosexuality is mentioned negatively in Irish ecclesiastical laws, unsurprisingly.
In secular law the only mention is in regards to grounds for divorce, where
it is placed on a par with a man eschewing his wife’s bed entirely
for another woman. In a culture where much emphasis was put upon breeding
future generations, exclusive homosexuality may have been a strange concept.
Less so bisexuality ~ marriage was considered a duty, a pragmatic legal
contract to provide children who could grant financial security in old age.
Romantic attachments to ones spouse may have been an added bonus, but were
not really vital. The behaviour of both heroes and heroines seems to suggest
that the search for romance or sexual release outside of wedlock was not
necessarily frowned on.
It is arguable that the very concept of a sexual identity based upon the
gender of ones partners did not exist in pre-Christian Britain or Ireland.
This being the case, the notion of a Coming Out rite would have been irrelevant
back then. Yet we do not live in a pre-Christian world, and we must acknowledge
that perception of personal identity has changed dramatically.
Amongst the chattering classes of Kensington, homosexuality may be acceptable.
Elsewhere it is often far from tolerable. Walking through town I often see
young (straight) couples holding hands, kissing, or snogging to the point
of sucking each others fillings out. Female couples might get away with
the hand-holding, if it is thought they are sisters or “just good
friends”. Two men behaving in such a way might well be given a kicking
by some passing gorilla in a shell suit. A heterosexual teenager announcing
their sexual preferences to parents is unlikely to get much of a response,
whilst a gay one still might find themselves ostracised.
Informing the world that one’s sexuality is anything other than totally
conventional is still a bit of a risk.
Coming Out then is a decision to run a risk ~ a request for honesty, but
with the knowledge that hostility may well be the only response (not unlike
telling people you’re a pagan.) It takes a degree of courage ~ the
amount depending on the level of violence with which the local community
is likely to enforce its conventions. Courage in any context is to be celebrated.
I am pleased to say that, aside from a few snotty comments by strangers,
I have never had an adverse reaction from any friends, family members, or
work colleagues. However, I am not so naive as to assume that just because
most people I know are supportive (or indifferent), that others might not
feel obliged to punch my face in.
Few men entering a new social circle would think twice about saying, “last
night my wife said....” Despite my so-far positive experiences, I
always stop and think before saying, “last night my boyfriend said....”
The possibility of an aggressive reaction from strangers always gives me
pause for thought first.
This external aspect to Coming Out is important ~ it’s about engaging
with your community on a equal footing. If other people can talk about their
husbands and wives, then we can talk about our same-sex partners. A ritual
can serve a social function, a chance for friends and family to formally
offer support ~ not just a willingness to hear about the partners, but to
defend that individual should they be the victim of hostility from others.
There is also an internal aspect, which may well have been quite alien
to people living in this land two thousand years ago. We grow up in a culture
in which monotheist values surround us, like it or not. There are all manner
of taboos, and no matter how swinging the Sixties may have been for a minority,
centuries worth of hang-ups have still yet to disappear. Many people who
experience sexual fantasies about their own kind feel guilty, dirty, abnormal
etc. Before telling anyone else that you are gay, straight, bi or whatever,
you need to make a decision about what you are in your own mind. Choosing
to identify yourself with some socially constructed sexual label may have
been alien to some of our ancestors, but in this era it can be a positive
affirmation of your intention to have consensual sex, and bloody well enjoy
it. For a polytheist this is particularly important, in that most of the
voices (internal and external) saying that you shouldn’t engage in
such dirty, filthy activities are the product of monotheist religions. Ritually
declaring the rightness of sexual choices places an activity long condemned
as demonic and sinful in a sacred, spiritual context.
Modern sensibilities tend to associate love between men with effeminacy
and campness (and plenty of gay men collude in this image with gusto!) No-one
could describe Cuchulainn or Ferdiad as nelly. They were warriors. Camping
it up wholesale may render us visible, easily avoided, targets of humour
and therefore ineffectual.
After centuries of being told that people who do what we do (and, even
worse, enjoy it) are wicked, disgusting, godless abominations ~ to stand
in a holy place and specifically declare ones sexual tastes as sacred in
the eyes of ones Gods is not an act of camp frippery. Far from it. It’s
an act of assertion bordering on aggression. It’s a repudiation of
tyranny, and (even if the people doing so don’t always realise it)
declaring a willingness to fight. If we didn’t want to buck the system
we would creep back into the closet and look for Narnia. The martial spirit
of Ferdiad is alive and kicking.
Thinking on all this, I penned a short ritual usable by polytheist druids
(but adaptable to other traditions, and to non-polytheist sympathies.)
COMING-OUT RITUAL
Prepare the nemeton in the usual manner.
Make offerings to the cucullatus/bocain (spirits of place) and make toasts
in turn to the Gods, ancestors and the spirit of comradery created by those
present.
The man Coming Out (M) should spend a little time in meditation, whilst
the officiating druid (D) and others gathered focus their minds, perhaps
play the harp or bodhran etc.
D (shake craebh-sidhe) : Our Tribe is gathered ~ are there any who wish to
speak?
M : I do. Beloved Ferdiad of the blue-grey eye, guide me this day as I declare
myself to my Tribe gathered here, to my Gods and spirits.
D : Who are you?
M : I am a wolf in the battle
I am a butterfly unfurling
I am a stag in the summer glade
I am a pwca, ever-changing
I am a brother under the blanket
Who but I have seen what the night conceals?
D : What is it that you claim before this throng?
M : The right to love; to lust; to speak praise of those I share my life
with; to celebrate the gifts of Aonghus mac Og.
D : Those who seek rights must also hold responsibilities. What duties will
you uphold?
M (holding a torque) : To speak the truth of my heart to those who love me,
not to mislead them with false promises; to defend my choices against those
who would deny me freedom; to protect myself and those I pleasure from disease
(add more if you wish.)
D : This is your oath, sworn freely before the Gods on the oath-ring?
M : It is.
D : Live now as a brother, warm beneath the blanket of Ferdiad’s love.
(Uses face paint or anointing oil to mark the word ‘bràthair’
in oghams on M’s chest.) Beth for the new birth that is yours this
night, Ruis for the blush of unstained lust, Ailm for the cry of realisation,
Tinne for the iron strength that hostility may demand, Huathe for you will
be feared by those scared of the dark, Ailm for the gasp of joy, Iodho to
honour the ancestors who paved the way for you, Ruis for the blush of love
that makes all men beautiful.
ALL (Encircling M and chanting) : Bràthair, Bràthair, Bràthair!
D : When you requested this meeting of the Tribe I meditated with Ferdiad,
and this is the gift he guided me to present to you (gives a gift of some
sort.) In the old times a liege, a flaith, sealed his acceptance of an oath
with a gift to the oath-maker. This is your gift. When you look on it, remember
the responsibilities you have taken on board.
ALL (each can make a toast in their own words, to the Gods, to M, to a
figure from their own past who helped them accept some aspect of their own
nature* etc. When everyone is all toasted-out, end the ritual in the usual
manner then go and feast.)
* This need not be anything sexual ~ just coming to terms with onesself.
