The “El” Word
Okay, time to fess up. We’ve all heard the word bandied about. We’ve all applied it to someone we think is one, or have argued heatedly against applying it to someone else. We think we know what it means, but aren’t sure that anyone else would agree with us. It’s tremendously important, but also a huge trap.
What can it be? (insert Jeopardy theme song here)
That’s right - What is…an “Elder”! I’ll take Loosely Defined Terms for $500, Alex.
What do we mean when we call someone an elder? Or Elder, if you’re being formal about it. Well, there’s the fact of age. Anyone who is old enough to get a discount at the movie theater could by rights be considered an elder. Any woman old enough to go through menopause would have achieved elderhood. At its most loosely defined, anyone who is older than myself is in some sense my elder.
But relative stations of age is not really what I am interested in writing about with regard to Elder. I’m curious about how we go about identifying those people for whom we have respect in our spiritual tradition. Most Pagans I know are phenomenally authority-averse. So many years of repeating “I am my own spiritual authority” have made it exceedingly difficult to find external sources of trusted spiritual authority. In Reclaiming particularly, years of seeing ourselves as the edgy “vanguard” have yielded a generation or two of uppity practitioners, but only a few have what I would consider the depth of knowledge and wisdom for me to call them an Elder.
But then again, that’s my own uppity nature showing itself. Why can’t I just go ahead and consider anyone who has been practicing for more years than myself my Elder? After all, in my other spiritual tradition, aikido, the word “sensei” means more than simply teacher. It means “gone before,” as in someone who has been practicing for longer than I have. There is a built-in humility to that word, and in the context of aikido I have less of a problem calling people who are teaching “sensei.” But maybe that’s also because I don’t choose to train in dojos where I have little respect for the sensei. I choose to train with those whom I respect, and in that respect lies the key to being an Elder.
The fact is, being an Elder is a title that is bestowed by others; it cannot be solely self-applied. Declaring that others must respect you because you are knowledgeable and wise is the surest way to achieve infamy, but it will never give you the respect you seek (unless you are, in fact, knowledgeable and wise). And, in the case of traditions such as Reclaiming where there is very little continuity between communities and generations of practitioners, respect is something that must be earned over and over again; it is not enough to rest on your laurels because someone five years ago declared that you were an elder.
Why is it important to have elders? Because we ourselves want respect. Humans are naturally social creatures, and part of our instinctive nature is to create social organization, i.e. hierarchy. We can almost intuitively identify who among a group of people is most respected, a condition closely associated with but not identical to who holds the most power in the group. Perceiving this web of relationships helps us know where we fit in, what positions are open to us, and what we can learn from the group. In the absence of any true sense of respect or deference among individuals, the amount we can learn from the group is limited. And if we are looking for a little respect, chances are that we will not find it in a group of people who do not respect one another.
So if clamoring for respect doesn’t result in being respected, what does? One of the things that makes me stop and pay close attention to someone is if she or he is a deep listener. In a group conversation, I find myself most interested in the words of those who clearly exhibit that they are listening closely and reflecting on what is being said. I give that person’s words more consideration, hold her in higher esteem - in short, I tend to respect her right away. That quality of deep listening is not something that is taught as a magical skill to the degree that I believe it should be. It holds so much value if we can stick with the practice. It takes us down all kinds of internal roads where we learn how to trust and deeply listen to ourselves, how to feel if something is true, how to really integrate body and mind.
Learning to listen is one way to gain respect. Mastering a craft is another - and I would argue that mastery in any craft centers on a quality of listening. And then there is the path of credentials. In many lineages, where they probably don’t go around saying “I am my own spiritual authority,” achieving respect is as easy as 1-2-3. A third degree initiation means that you are qualified to teach teachers and initiate others. You can be the high priest or priestess of your own group, and earn or demand a de facto degree of respect.
When Margot Adler spoke at PantheaCon this year, she created quite a stir by declaring that we should all get rid of our lineages, that obsession with rank is what was wrong with the current Pagan movement. I understand her concern, but I don’t think that burning diplomas or certificates will achieve what she is after. She is talking about (as I understand it, having heard about her talk from someone else) a return to a more organic system of organization, where respect is bestowed and exchanged on the basis of having earned it - a meritocracy, for lack of a better word.
Maybe she was actually proposing that we don’t need leaders or elders at all, but I don’t think she would go that far. And I simply don’t believe it is possible, or desirable, to advocate that type of system. I have spent too much time coming to understand the hierarchies which arise in ostensibly non-hierarchical groups to even entertain the idea for a second. Better by far to admit that we are mammals that create social organizations - it is something we are good at. We instinctively seek out those we can learn from. We listen to, and respect, those we feel have something we would like to learn.
I know there are many groups out there which are struggling to define what it takes to become an elder in their tradition. I have taken part in that same discussion a few times myself, and it has never seemed to bear much fruit. The reason for this is that we did not start out by speaking the truth: that what all of us really wanted was respect, and we were looking to each other for clues on how to create that for ourselves. But coming up with a set of external criteria - take x amount of courses, teach y amount of students, practice for z amount of years - was a complete distraction from where we should have started the conversation: whom do I respect? What quality does that person have which I desire? If I take more time to listen and reflect, will I be able to water the seeds of that quality in myself?
March 2nd, 2007 at 10:18 am
I wish that I could find a copy of Adler’s talk somewhere; it’s certainly generated lots of comments. I agree so strongly with what you say about the need to learn deep listening.
March 3rd, 2007 at 6:38 pm
I’ve been thinking for a while that one thing I miss among Pagans is the concept that Quakers would call “weight,” as in the phrase, “a weighty Quaker.” “Weight” in this sense is really just the perception of strength and presence. It’s not a title, and you would probably find only broad agreement within a community about exactly who merits the term… but most of us would name many of the same names, and they’d be the names most of us would come to first.
It’s not so much, I think, that we need to name precisely who offers “the most” to a community… more that communities need to recognize that some people have earned a closer, more careful consideration when they speak. Some people work at getting enough things right enough of the time that, yeah, they are doing a particularly fine job carrying spiritual values in a community. All of us have the potential–some of us are reaching it.
What I get out of the idea of “weight” is that it is possible to accept and honor the reality that some voices are clearer than others, without neccesarily having to grant any specific title or ritualized definitions around that. No 1-2-3–or any other form–to take the place of just being aware of who is offering what to a community right now.
I’m wordy as hell tonight–sorry about that. But it’s a new wrinkle for me in an old line of thought, on how Pagan egalitarianism is sometimes used as an excuse for disrespectful relations among us, and what might help us resolve that problem. I’m still reaching for a vocabulary to use to explain these ideas, even to myself.
March 5th, 2007 at 10:39 pm
Thanks for that term, Cat. Except for the unfortunate double entendre of calling notable Pagans “weighty” I like the feeling of the word. No need to apologize for being wordy - consider the post you’re responding to! And I didn’t even get into why being called an elder can be such a trap…
In large part, I think it takes a lot of space to talk about the idea of “elders” because we lack more precise terminology for what it is we’re talking about. All our language for respect and weight, age and authority, carries the baggage of other associations which obscure our intentions. But that seems to be the case with the English language in many instances, does it not? In any case, thanks for posting.
And yes Hecate, I too wish Margot had her talks posted somewhere. Maybe they are at Witchvox by now?
March 7th, 2007 at 5:41 am
Anne I love the way you think.
One of my favorite bloggers wrote recently about a flood in his basement that “smelled like old people,” as he described it. This post was picked up by our local blog newspaper, DCBlogs, as well as the Washington Post. Everyone thought it was hilarious. I couldn’t help but think that no one would dare to write a post that said their basement smelled like black people or gay people or Jews. But it’s ok to belittle old people, in fact he was celebrated for doing so.
And we wonder why the term “elder” is so awkward, why people of many different spiritual paths have either abandoned the concept, or self-apply the label (even weirder), or weirdest of all, try to force the label to stick to individuals for whatever reasons, personal or political.
This is the Age of Aquarius. I say forget the labels - just do good deeds, take care of yourself and those around you, try to be a good person. Striving for eldership is a ridiculous concept. At least I think so.
Thanks as always for making me think!
March 7th, 2007 at 6:59 pm
I think that the ridiculous discussions of what criteria make an elder that go on in Reclaiming occur because there is such a dearth of those who stay around for years. It shows a longing for something which is not there.
March 9th, 2007 at 3:22 am
Anne, I’ve been interviewing interesting magical practitioners whom I respect and *all* of them talked about listening, and contemplative practice…
I think thoughtful listening and speaking are indeed one sign of an Elder.
March 17th, 2007 at 3:01 am
Thing is, learning to *really* speak and listen with compassion takes years of experience and spiritual practice to accomplish. With only one exception, I don’t know young Pagans who are very good at it.
September 22nd, 2007 at 10:17 am
I think . .
an elder is
- one who sees . . . one who encourages our seeing;
- the archetype and potential expression of of elder resides within each one of us, from birth.
The elder awakens in us an appreciation of our own internal wisdom, and, when we are alert, and know that we are seen, we recognize the elder standing before us.
The elder looks through all your pain and confusion, catches your eye, smiles.
Look again at the elder. . . . do you see the mirror? The elder is you, in disguise.