The Path to the Goddess and
Unitarian Universalism

My father - an Irish Catholic and my mother - a German Welsh Lutheran - were married in 1936, after my mother converted to Catholicism to marry my father. I was born in 1958 when my parents were 43 & 42, my two sisters were 20 and 16 and my brother was 13. My mother stopped attending mass when I was very young. She had explored metaphysics in the 1940's and after recovering from a serious mental breakdown, when she found that the Church no longer met her needs. It seemed odd to me that I attended Church with my dad when my mom did not. I had to attend mass with my father every Sunday and most holy days of obligation. With the exception of loving to sing at the Folk mass, I hated going to church. I went to catechism, the Catholic doctrine class for the non parochial school kids, once a week in 1st through 4th grade. Mostly, I hated this too. At the end of 4th grade, I told my mother some of the things they were teaching us, including some rather wild exaggerations, and talked her into letting me stay home.

Even though going to church and catechism were torture for me, I can trace my fascination with ritual and Rites of Passage back to my experiences within the Catholic Church. I loved lighting the candles in the votive rack set in front of one of the saints. The red and blue glass candle holders cast colorful shadows on the walls. It was quite a beautiful sight -- especially when we visited an older church that was softly lit by hundreds of flickering candles tucked away in the numerous saint bedecked alcoves.

My first clear memory of a rite of passage would be in the second grade as we prepared for our first holy communion. Initially, we learned how to go to confession and on the day of our first confession, we wore our nicest clothes to school. When the other children asked why we were so dressed up, I piped right up with, "It's our first confession!" Not knowing about the differences in religion, I assumed that everyone knew what I was talking about. When it became clear that the non-Catholic kids didn't know what confession was, the mystery and the importance of what we were about to do deepened.

After I loudly announced, "Bless me father for I have sinned" and recited the list of grievous sins I, a 7 year old, had committed -- "I said darn and gosh and I talked back to my mom, etc" -- the priest spent most of our time in confession asking me to speak more softly.

For first communion, we walked forward 2 by 2 and received the sacred host from the priest. It immediately stuck to the roof of my mouth. Now what? We were supposed to swallow it without letting it touch our unholy teeth but it clung tenaciously to my palate. After all the haranguing by our catechism teachers to do things properly I envisioned terrible punishments in store for me as I tried to dislodge the host with my tongue. When none manifested, I figured God was being lenient to a first timer.

In my nine years as a Girl Scout, my connection with Nature, especially on campouts, was very spiritual. Each time I stood next to a coastal redwood, I felt dwarfed by the mystery of its existence. Although we sang songs and recited Scout Laws mentioning God and sang Grace before eating, I did not think of scouting as religious. There were ceremonies and passages in Girl Scouts but they never took on a spiritual aspect for me. I found that to be true of other important life events during this time such as entering Junior High, starting my period, turning 13, etc. I had to go back to the Catholic Church for a ceremony of spiritual significance.

In eighth grade, my Catholic friends that I had attended catechism with all those years ago were preparing for Confirmation. I decided to rejoin the class and be confirmed because I knew how important this was to my father. I attended evening classes for only a few weeks when my ignorance of Catholic Doctrine got me into trouble. The teacher mentioned something inflammatory about those who were divorced -- something like "mortal sin, going to hell" or some such sentiments. We had many divorced family members and friends of the family and I knew that it was ridiculous to think that they were going to hell for this reason. I asked if a husband beat his wife and she divorced him would she still be the sinner? You already know the answer and I went ballistic. I was thrown out of class and ended up crying hysterically in the office while I called my father. The secretary was a kind and understanding woman, who knew my teacher all too well. She asked me if I would like to try another teacher. I decided to give it one more try and I joined Mr. Johnson's class.

Mr. Johnson reminded me of my father. He had a quiet, deep and loving relationship with the Church. I was able to learn from him. When I could not agree with doctrine, he told me to search my heart and find my own way. One evening when I was being an obnoxious 13-year old, I pointed out a typo in our book. "Look," I said, "they misspelled pity." Mr. Johnson kindly pointed out that the word was piety. "Piety?" I asked, "what's that?" He said it meant showing a spirit of reverence for God. "Oh" was my intelligent reply. I started thinking.

God, reverence for God, confirmation--just what was I confirming? According to the Church, I was being confirmed as a Catholic; however, what I was learning in Catechism told me I could not possibly be confirmed as a Catholic because I did not believe in half of what they were telling me. Confirmation loomed. What was I going to do? I began to assess my relationship with God. I had always talked to God, said my prayers, believed in the mysteries, and celebrated the holidays with meaning. God was ever present to me. I didn't believe in God-I knew God. We were one, inseparable unit. So I worked it out in my mind that I was confirming my relationship with God. For Confirmation, outside the church as we lined up in Catholic standard 2 by 2, hands folded in prayer, eyes closed, taking a moment to talk with God, I heard Mr. Johnson say "Bernadette" I turned toward him. He pointed at me. "That's piety," he said quietly.

Strictly in terms of religion, high school was an odd time for me. Up to this point, the fact that my classmates were either Catholic, Protestant or Jewish was just a rather vague self-identification we each had. Upon reaching high school, for the first time in my life, my classmate's talked endlessly about their religions or more specifically about Jesus. It was 1972-1976 and the born again Christian movement was going strong. I was puzzled by my classmate's obsession with Jesus. As a Catholic, I was raised with the Trinity. We certainly honored Jesus as the Son of God so thus qualified as Christians. The holy ghost aspect of the trinity was not really clear to me until much later. The thing was, God was always the head honcho. Jesus was a messenger, a sacrifice, a redeemer, etc and yet, he was still the son not the boss. Remember the first commandment, "Thou shalt have no other gods before me." The born-agains were acting as though Jesus was God. Maybe I really did miss something in those 3 years I skipped catechism. And what about Mary? Catholics revered her but she was marginalized by the born- agains. How could they do that to Jesus' mother?

My confusion regarding their behavior and beliefs was not shared by my born again classmates. They had no questions, they knew it all! They were saved. They had accepted "Jeeeeezus" into their lives. Everyone else was unworthy of their attention - damned, you see -- unless they were willing to be witnessed to or carried off to a prayer meeting. Christian stalkers walked unimpeded on our campus looking for easy targets. I was confused. This attitude seemed antithetical to Christ's teachings. I experienced feelings similar to that moment in Confirmation class when I could not reconcile catholic doctrine with my own beliefs.

After I stopped going to Church, my relationship with God did not change very much. I still talked to him and thought about things from a Judeo- Christian point of view. In college, I took a class in metaphysical philosophy and I began to attend a weekly spiritual group in the home of our family's spiritual mentor, Dr. Gayle.

Dr. Gayle introduced me to Buddhism, Christ consciousness, Native American beliefs and small group spiritual practices. It was rather muddled at first because she thought I was still a Catholic. The first chant she asked me to create was in Latin! When we finally sorted that out, I began to walk along a more diverse and enriching spiritual path than ever before which still included my conversations with God.

In 1983, I read a book that would forever change my life. "When God Was a Woman" by Merlin Stone recounted the existence of the great mother goddess in most cultures during the Neolithic time period. Her book had pictures of goddess images, detailed stories of what they represented and most intriguing, a vision of the egalitarian societies of their followers. I read archeological and anthropological detail of a female divinity that I had never even heard about. The great mother of creation, life, death and rebirth far surpassed the one-dimensional goddesses we learned about in my ancient history class. What was going on here? I felt that I had been deceived on a grand scale. The God of my childhood, the father god with the white beard, the God who sat on a cloud in judgement of us suddenly disappeared from my consciousness.

Feeling bereft, I needed to know more about this great mother goddess in order to feel reconnected to the divine spirit. I read "The Spiral Dance: A Rebirth of the Ancient Religion of the Great Goddess" by Starhawk. As I immersed myself in this compelling book, I seemed to hear an audible click in my brain as it all fit into place. Finding the Old Religion was like coming home. Reverence for Nature was reminiscent of my camping experiences as a child. The image of a Mother Goddess, creator, who brings into existence all life made sense to me in a way that a monotheistic Father God never could. And at long last, there were images of a female divinity that looked like me. With a new focus to my life, I went in search of similarly minded people.

The first group I found was a circle of women following the Dyanic tradition of Wicca which entails worship of the Goddess only. Their circle had originated with a Women's Studies class on religion at San Jose State. They wanted to create a safe, sacred space for women only. Still feeling betrayed by a male God, I eagerly joined, began my studies and was formally initiated. At the time, many of the books about the Goddess were written by feminist theologians or priestesses of the Goddess. There were also books on the old religion but as these included the Gods, I avoided them for the time being. I was walking this new path joyously and felt a strong calling to the ministry. I wanted to devote my life to helping others on their journey to the Goddess. I continued my studies and training and was initiated as a Wiccan Priestess 2 years later.

After about 5 years of a purely Dyanic path, I began to feel that something was missing. I was married and found it odd that I could not share this important aspect of my spiritual life with my husband except at the occasional family ritual. I began to include images of the gods in our circle but was met with stiff opposition. I realized that I needed to expand my path. I found several active groups at this point and was able to participate along with Robert on many occasions. South Bay Circle was a great experience in that is was made up of many groups who took turns leading the 8 major holidays in the year. This sampler enabled me to experience several different traditions including the Covenant of Unitarian Universalist Pagans or CUUPs as it is known in our denomination. Although Robert and I were fairly content in our spiritual lives at this point, we were not at all content with our living situation. We started to explore the idea of moving out of the Bay Area and we ended up moving to Modesto in 1992.

We were concerned about raising children in the Old Religion in this overwhelmingly conservative, Christian city. Finding other pagans to create community with is not easy when you don't feel safe discussing the topic. When my neighbor asked me if I was a Satanist because she had seen a star made out of grain on my doorstep, I knew we had indeed moved to hell. What could we do? It was then I remembered the CUUPs group that had led ritual at the South Bay Circle. Was there a local Unitarian Church? Could I convince Robert to attend a church after the negative religious experiences of his youth?

After much discussion, we came to this Fellowship and found a home among you. This was the extended family and the village in which I had longed to be a part. But like every family, things did not always go smoothly. After the initial support I received when I helped to form both the women's and mixed spiritual circles and became known as the identified pagan, things became difficult for many months as misunderstandings, miscommunications and accusations abounded. Being affected by serious post-partum depression did not help and it took strength to get through this time that I could barely find. What helped me through this stressful time was knowing that Robert, Kelson and I needed this community. I also firmly believed that you all needed us too. I was sure that the Goddess had set us on the UU path for a reason.

Although I happily continued to participate in the women's circle that met here I started to feel that vague sense of disquiet that I associated with the Goddess giving me a challenge. Something needed to change but I was not sure what it was. I felt a deep sense of obligation to continuing an open forum for pagans in this area and yet, with a growing family I was beginning to feel overwhelmed. When the Cauldron, a bookstore and haven for all religious paths, opened, I helped get a women's circle on its feet there while someone else was helping a men's group form. At last, the spiritual circles that met here were no longer the only open venue for people seeking the old ways. It was also at this time that it became clear to me that I could not longer participate in a women's spiritual circle within the confines of this church. As much as I love being a member of this Fellowship and a Unitarian Universalist, I am also a dedicated Wiccan priestess. I needed a coven, a bonded group devoted to the path of the Goddess. Our UU circle dissolved. The like minded sisters from that group began the process of forming a new covenant and founding a coven instead. What an exciting time that was in our lives. When we founded the coven, we planted a blue oak tree to symbolize our living bond with each other. In honor of a dear departed coven sister, we call it Jerry's tree.

In addition to my Wiccan path, my experiences in this Fellowship have enriched my life. Here we are gathered, bringing a variety of religious backgrounds and a diversity of religious philosophy. Some of us are Jewish, Christian, Buddhist, Humanist, Atheist or Pagan and yet, we worship together as a community. So here I stand before you, former Irish Catholic girl, Wiccan Priestess and Unitarian Universalist. My life experiences and all three of these religious traditions have woven together into the beautiful tapestry of who I am today. Through the difficult times, the support of my family, friends, this Fellowship and my Sisters have sustained me. And ever present within me, guiding my steps as I dance the spiral dance, the Goddess.

"We all come from the Goddess, and to Her we shall return
Like a drop, of rain, flowing to the ocean."

[Bernadette Burns is a member of the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Stanislaus County. She is a Wife, mother of two boys, chiropractor and college teacher by profession. She is a minister of Earth-based spirituality, artist, composer and ceremonialist.]

This is a Guest Sermon from our collection. Our Minister's Sermons are in a separate section.