Lammas
lammas
The rooster’s call pierces the early morning haze that promises another day of heat and humidity, and in the distance gathering crows call to one another while silently the corn ripens.
As the summer sun climbs higher in the sky, we are driven indoors to the coolness of the old stone farmhouse. Baskets of freshly picked tomatoes fill the kitchen with a strange pungent smell of the vine blended with the sweet herby fragrance of basil, and a frosty pitcher of iced tea flavored with fresh spearmint soothes and cools us.
In the dark coolness of the cellar, the empty mason jars, whose contents were consumed last winter, once again glisten in neat rows, filled with colorful fruits and vegetables—bright red tomatoes, soft green string beans, brilliant orange peach preserves, and ruby red raspberry jam.
As the summer day draws to a close, the sun bathes the neighbor’s horses in golden light and casts long purple shadows across the meadow grass, just before it slips behind the hill. Then the meadow grass is atwinkle with fireflies, and on a certain night, the sky beyond the surrounding hills bursts with brilliant sparkles of light, as surrounding towns and villages celebrate the Fourth of July.
Around the time of the Fourth of July and other national holidays, we of the old faith are confronted with the symbolism used by our American forefathers in their struggle for independence, and we are often struck by the Pagan meanings of many of them.
Our first national flag, affectionately known as the “Betsy Ross,” features a circle of thirteen white five-pointed stars (pentagrams) on a field of blue, and thirteen red and white stripes. Both the stars and the stripes, of course, symbolize the thirteen original colonies; but to a witch, thirteen stars in a circle also represents the thirteen lunar months in the Wheel of the Year, and the thirteen members of a coven. The red and white stripes are actually strips of cloth that are remarkably like the red and white streamers of the traditional May Pole, and the similarity is all the more striking when one considers the natural position of the flag, atop a flag pole.
Some of the earlier flags of the colonies are of even greater interest. One, for example, shows a snake cut into thirteen segments, each one named for one of the
colonies, and above them the slogan, “Join or Die.” This symbolism recalls the myth of Isis and Osiris, in which the body of the murdered Osiris was cut into fourteen pieces by his brother, Set. Isis roamed the world in search of the pieces and found thirteen of them which, with the help of Anubis, were reunited, and Osiris resurrected.
A later version of the serpent flag shows the snake intact and coiled into a perfect spiral, above which is the slogan, “Don’t Tread On Me.” The spiral, of course, is one of the most ancient symbols of the goddess, and the serpent is a symbol of the male principle, as well as a symbol of Paganism.
Another colonial flag simply had the white crescent of the waxing moon in the upper left hand corner of an entirely blue flag, and between the horns of the moon the word “Liberty.” This flag might seem to many of us just as appropriate today as it did over two hundred years ago.
There has been already much said about the appearance of the number thirteen in the great seal of the United States, but these explanations tend only to see thirteen as representing the number of colonies. But I find it interesting that the original colonies just happen to be thirteen in number. I am not suggesting that the delegates from these colonies, who sat in that stuffy room in Philadelphia in 1776, drafting the Declaration of Independence and the Bill of Rights, were a coven of witches, but rather that our ancient gods move in strange and mysterious ways to protect their hidden children.
So it seems natural that the United States, founded for the purpose of religious freedom, should be the scene of the greatest wiccan revival—although it is also happening everywhere on the planet. It is possible in the not too distant future that the Constitution of the United States, and especially those who have sworn to uphold it, will be tested as never before; and we will keep in mind the other meanings of the Stars and Stripes, the serpents, and the crescents.
Like American architecture and American cuisine, American witchcraft is something completely unique. In what other country could a witch cast the circle in a Celtic tradition, then call upon a Greek goddess and god, and then perform an Anglo-Saxon ritual to a tape of Native American drums? Of course, this sort of “melting pot magick” might be frowned upon by some purists on a specific path, but in truth, the more we learn about the various wiccan and Pagan paths, the more we are struck not by the differences, but by the similarities; and those differences are that of culture, not religion. As American witches, we have all of the best of the traditions of the old world to draw from. There are some who are fortunate enough to have been born into one of those pockets of hereditary traditions that seem to be scattered about the old world like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle from a passing cloud. As American witches, we may not feel that as individuals we hold an original piece of the puzzle, but we do seem to have glimpsed the cover of the box.
The heat and the humidity of summer days have inherent in them the possibility of afternoon and evening thundershowers. It is not just an invention by Hollywood that causes so many films about the supernatural to be set in haunted houses and castles on stormy nights, but an instinct that is part of all of us. There is something very real that seems to be a connection between severe electrical storms and the spirit world. Dan and I have observed on several occasions when working the wine glass (a simple device that works much like a Ouija board) while a storm is approaching that there is often static. And several times there have been abrupt changes in the communicating entity or the message being given, as if someone had turned a dial to change a station on the radio. Also, on two or three occasions, our young dog Samhaintha (pronounced “Samantha”) had gone outside only to come slinking back into the house terrified, hours before a particularly severe thunderstorm had struck. Apparently there is some connection between thunderstorms and the earth’s electromagnetic field, and the electromagnetic field with psi and the spirit worlds.
Thunderstorms have the power to stimulate or enhance psychic activity, and this magickal power of the thunderstorm is contained in the rainwater from it. This water must be collected in glass or glazed earthenware containers, which insulate it. It can then be used to enhance the power of amulets and such objects as crystal balls, the wine glass, or the Ouija board. An especially powerful way to do this is to place a few dried leaves of mugwort—an herb that also has the power to enhance psychic energy, in a glass container and pour some storm water over them. Allow them to stand in the moonlight for the three nights prior to the full moon. Then, on the night that the moon is full, cast your circle according to your ways, and have on your altar all of the objects and amulets you wish to charge.
At the appropriate point in the Esbat ritual, dip your fingers in this highly charged potion and anoint each of the objects liberally with it, saying words like:
Thunder and Lightning
Mugwort and Moon
Your powers will be
This amulet’s soon.
Then leave all of the objects you have anointed, where they will be in the moonlight until morning; but do put them away before sunrise.
Two objects that really should be charged this way are the wand and the athame.
Storms, on the other hand, can be destructive. Peony has long been used as an herb of protection against the dangers of storms. House-leek, called in Dutch, “donderbloem,” or thunder-flower, was at one time planted on rooftops as protection against lightning strikes. Of course, a prerequisite for this is a sod or thatch roof, but to plant them near the house affords some protection.
Pysanky too are amulets of protection against lightning.
When the summer storm has passed, it is often followed by clear blue skies and hot dry breezes. This is just the time of day to go to the beach, that magickal strip between land and sea where so many an ancient god and goddess first drifted ashore.
Among these was the ancient Greek goddess of love and beauty, Aphrodite, whose name means “Foam-born.” Aphrodite was not only beautiful, she also admired beauty in others, and granted the gifts of beauty and charm. A visit to the shore is a perfect time to pay homage to the goddess in her aspect of goddess of love and beauty. Myrtle, apple, rose, and poppy are all sacred to Aphrodite; sea shells, especially those of the genus Cypraea, popularly called cowries, were left as offerings at her temple on the island of Cyprus, for which the genus is named. As goddess of the sea, swans and dolphins are also sacred to her. So if you are at the edge of the sea and wish to honor Aphrodite, cast a circle in the sand when the moon is new. Strew rose petals about the circle, face the ocean, and gaze at it for a while. Then hold high a seashell you wish to make an offering of. Let it be the loveliest and most perfect you can find. Speak words such as:
Aphrodite, born of the sea
I offer this shell onto thee.
Its perfect beauty, like your own,
Gracious Goddess, born of foam,
It’s all I have to give to thee,
Grant that I may blessed be.
Then place the shell on a stone altar in the center of the circle, or on the sand where the sea might take it and let the rose petals be claimed by the incoming tide.
To the ancient Romans, July was the time to celebrate the Neptunalia, the festival of Neptune, god of the seas and the Roman counterpart of Poseidon, the Greek god of the sea. Neptune was also the creator of the first horse, which later became a symbol of the goddess. It is Neptune who presides over all of the creatures of the sea, as well as the sea itself. His symbol is the trident and dolphins; black and white bulls, as well as horses, are sacred to him. A visit to the sea, especially during the month of July, is an appropriate time to do honor to this sea deity, and to ask for protection when traveling by the sea, or from drowning. Go to the edge of the sea and cast a circle in the sand. Mark the four directions by placing a horseshoe or drawing a horse’s hoof print in the sand with your finger, at each of the four compass points. At the center of the circle, place a trident or symbol of one. A pickle fork is perfect because of its shape and its association with brine. Or draw a trident in the sand. Then hold a cup of white wine or ale aloft, saying words like:
Neptune (or Poseidon) , Lord of the Ocean
Who dwells beneath the sea,
Accept this offering I pour
Where your domain meets the shore.
Grant that I will always be
Safe from the dangers of the sea.
Then collect the horseshoes and trident, and leave the offering to mingle with the waves.
A similar ritual might be performed in honor of Ler, the Celtic god of the sea.
But these domains of the sea gods, like the rain forest, are threatened, and with them so is all life on earth. While it is necessary to dance in the magick circle cast beside the sea to show our love for these ancient deities, it is equally important to take physical action and support legislation to protect the world’s oceans—and especially groups like Greenpeace, whose members have risked their lives to protect such creatures as dolphins, sacred to the ancient god and goddess of the sea.
While at the shore, there is a really fun project that can be tried right there at the beach; or sand can be collected for experimentation later at home: Candles cast in sand are fun to make, are very attractive, and make excellent candles for marking the four corners of the circle because they are quite safe (they do not fall over easily, and there is no glass to break). Dan and I made many of them in the late sixties and they came to be called “hippie witch candles.” All that is needed are wet sand, wax, wick, and a double boiler (to melt the wax in).
A double boiler can be a coffee tin in a pot of water. Colors and scents are optional, but can be purchased at some arts and crafts supply store. Crushed crayons can also be used for colors and essential oils or extracts for scents. If the candles are to be cast at the beach, then work where the sand is already wet. (But if collecting sand for later use, use dry sand from the upper beach. This should be put in a cardboard carton eight inches deep and about two feet by two feet square, and then moistened with a hose later on.)
To begin making the candles, while the wax is melting in the double boiler, scoop out a hollow about the size of half a grapefruit in the wet sand using a tablespoon. This basic shape can be ornamented in several ways: “hobnails” can be made by poking the sides of the hollow with a pencil eraser or fluted edge can be produced by pressing thumb prints around the rim, and a nice “pre-Columbian” look can be achieved by just making three indentations evenly spaced around the rim. But our favorite is the cauldron shape, which comes in somewhat at the neck before flaring out again at the rim, and which has three legs made by poking a pencil into the sand at the bottom of the hollow. When the shape is pleasing, hold a length of wick over the approximate center and gently pour the colored wax, being sure that the legs of any legged ones are filled. Allow the wax to set, which can take quite a long time. Gently test the wax, and when it is ready, slip your fingers into the sand under the candle and gently lift it out. Brush off any excess sand. No matter how perfectly symmetrical you may think you made the shape, there are always surprises, which is part of the charm of sand candles. Any that are too round bottomed or uneven legged to stand can be leveled by being stood in a hot frying pan.
As the month of July nears its end, there is much to be harvested. Tomatoes come in by the bushel now, to be cut and packed into hot sterilized jars and canned.
A simple ritual to ensure that the jars will seal is to first wipe the top rim of the jar with a hot, clean sponge before placing the lid in position and screwing down the rim. Then with the tip of your finger, inscribe a pentagram on the lid, saying words like:
Lid seal—protect this meal!
The practice of hermetically sealing jars, which is what canning is, actually began as a magickal process. It is attributed to Hermes Trismegistus, the Greek name for the Egyptian god Thoth (who is reputed to be the founder of alchemy and other occult sciences). In the seventeenth century, or even earlier, the white wine of the Rhine Valley of Germany was placed in stonewear vessels called bellarmines. While bellarmines were presumably named for an early bishop of the new religion, they were typically ornamented with the visage of the god Baal or Bel—or sometimes the foliate mask of a vegetation god—in order to protect and preserve its contents. For this reason, such bottles were frequently used as witch’s bottles—charms of protection which contained the urine and sometimes the blood of the practitioner, and also might include symbolic protective weapons such as pins, thorns, rusty nails, and broken glass. These bottles were then buried upside down in the earth, and their protection would last as long as the bottle and its contents did. Such charms are fairly common archaeological finds in Europe, and one such bottle was discovered in the United States, on Tinnicum Island in the Delaware River just below Philadelphia. (However, this particular charm was contained in a green glass bottle, and not a bellarmine.)
Even today, the glass jars we use to preserve our harvest of tomatoes and peaches are blatantly adorned with the magickal symbols of freemasonry, such as the pentagram, because they are, after all, mason jars. For this reason, they make excellent containers for contemporary witch bottles, and it really doesn’t matter if they spell Baal “Ball”!
As the harvest progresses, there are many things that can be done to prepare for the Lammas celebration. Sweet corn is becoming available and it can be used in many ways. I have found that one of the best ways to get in touch with the spirit of the season, any season, is to adorn one’s self with the natural objects of the season. One of the easiest ways to do this is to obtain an ear of fresh sweet corn, the larger and tougher the kernels the better (but not dried completely). Break the ear in half after the husk has been removed and then begin popping off the kernels, beginning at the broken end of each half and going around and around. Try not to break the kernels in half, but to leave the white points on them. Then, with about two or three feet of heavy thread on a large needle, begin stringing the kernels by putting the needle through the very center of each one. When the strand is long enough to make a necklace, and one ear is usually more than enough, tie the ends of the thread together and hang the necklace in a warm, dry place for a few weeks. The kernels will dry, shrivel, and shrink, and it may be necessary to tighten the knot. Beautiful variations of this necklace can be made using Indian corn that has not been field-dried. You might grow your own or ask at a local farm stand if you can buy ears of Indian corn that are still tender. If you don’t wish to make a necklace of corn kernels every year, but instead want to use the same necklaces for Lammas year after year, spray them with polyurethane or varnish to protect them from becoming infested with moths.
The idea of wearing a necklace of corn kernels to celebrate the grain harvest sounds simple enough, but in fact, carrying this idea of costuming in imitation of the spirits of nature a few steps further can be a very powerful link to the spirits of the grain.
Another idea along these lines is to braid the long leaves from corn stalks together to form a crown or headband. This can be further adorned with the tassels from the tops of corn stalks. There are many ways of making adornments with corn husks. Field-dried ears of corn cut into slices can make beautiful rosettes that can be worn in many different ways. All that is necessary is a supply of corn, corn husks, and an active imagination.
Around the home too—and especially the area where the Lammas rites will be celebrated—it is appropriate to decorate with bowls of fruit and baskets of vegetables and all the signs and symbols of the season.
Among these are the tools of the harvest. Eventually, the Lammas Circle might be adorned not only with the fruits of the harvest, but the tools as well, especially those associated with the grain harvest. The reaping hook and sickle are both sacred to the goddess, not only because of their association with the sacred grain, but also because their shape resembles the crescent moon. Pitchforks or hay forks are not only harvesting tools, but their tines resemble the horns or antlers of the Horned One. The scythe is also called the Tooth of Saturn. Saturn is an ancient god of death who was also the father of Zeus. The scythe is also carried by Father Time as a symbol of the passing of the old year at New Year’s Eve. It is also carried by the more somber figure known as the Grim Reaper, which is the non-Pagan view of the lord of death, but who still shows his association with the grain god of death and resurrection. The flail too is associated with the grain harvest and was also a symbol of the pharaohs of Egypt. Along with the flail, the winnowing basket is also a symbol of the harvest.
The grain itself is an especially powerful symbol. Bundles of corn stalks or sheaves of harvested wheat or other grain might flank the altar area, or on a smaller scale vases of wheat, oats, or barley might adorn the mantle or table that will be the altar when the Sabbat night arrives.
In ancient times, the gathering of these bundles of grain were accompanied by much ritual and tradition. It was believed that the spirit that dwelled in all of the field of grain retreated as it was cut, into the grain still standing. For this reason, no one wanted to be the one to cut the last sheaf of grain. Instead, the harvesters took turns throwing their sickles at it until it was finally cut.
The bundle was probably believed to still contain the spirit of the grain. It was ritually gathered up and tied to resemble the form of a woman, and was called the corn mother, or variations on this name such as the old corn woman, rye mother, barley mother or wheat mother, old woman or harvest mother, depending on locality and the kind of grain that was grown there. The corn mother was then dressed in women’s clothing, or adorned with cloth or ribbon. She might then be mounted on a post and ceremoniously carried back to the village or farmhouse in a joyful procession of carts and wagons that contained the entire grain harvest. The corn mother would then have been mounted up in the barn above the threshing floor while the grain harvest was being threshed, and then kept in the farmhouse until the following spring.
In Germanic countries and those of Eastern Europe, she is the corn mother and her counterpart is the corn maiden. In Celtic countries she is called the cailliach and her other half in spring is the great goddess Bride herself; and in ancient Greece, she is Demeter and her counterpart is her daughter Persephone; to the Romans, Ceres and Proserpina. Together they are simply called, “the two goddesses.”
The corn mother was, and still should be, a central part of the Lammas rites. Making one can be as simple, or as complex, as the imagination dictates. The first part of the process is to obtain the grain. Small bunches of wheat are available from florists or from craft suppliers. This is convenient because in other times, where the old religion lingered on, the corn mother was sometimes made up of twelve or thirteen smaller sheaves of grain.
MAKING THE CORN MOTHER
If you live in the country near where grain is grown, you might, with the farmer’s permission, gather the grain yourself. Ideally, you might arrange with the farmer that he leave a small portion of a row or corner of a field standing for you after he has harvested the rest; or you might find some grain still standing after a field has been harvested.
In any case, this grain should be harvested with a bronze sickle or white-handled knife, saying words like:
Mother of Corn
I harvest Thee.
In Spring Thou wilt
A Maiden be!
In ancient times and in certain traditions, a few of the straws with the heads of grain still attached were plucked from the corn mother and set aside for weaving into the magickal amulets known as corn dollies, or for wreaths to be worn by young girls celebrating in the harvest procession.
To form the corn mother, tie the bundle of grain about the middle or a little lower, being sure to reserve some for the arms and the head. Then bend the tops down all around the bundle to form the skirt out of the grain heads and bind the bundle once again to form the waist. Tie two smaller bundles at both ends (rubber bands can be used here) and insert them in the upper part of the bundle to form the arms. And finally, insert a fine bundle of grain to form the head.
This figure may then be adorned as desired. A cloth skirt or apron is traditional. Corn necklaces or bracelets, ribbons, and flowers are all appropriate. When the corn mother is complete, she might be mounted on a post and carried in procession around the circle, and finally stood up in the east or south of the circle, where she may witness the rights held in her honor.
In order to appreciate the Lammas festival fully, it must be understood that just as Beltane is the opposite of Samhain, and Midsummer is the opposite of Yule, so is Lammas the opposite of Imbolc, and this is directly reflected in the relationship of the corn mother at Lammas with the corn maiden at Imbolc. They are two aspects of the same goddess—the one being the calliach or crone, after her days of growth and fertility have ended and her grain has been harvested and the other the maiden again after she has renewed herself through the death-sleep of winter, and is about to be impregnated once again.
There can be little doubt that sacred seeds of grain contained in the bundle of harvested grain called the corn mother were originally kept as the seed for the next year’s crop, and treated with much magick and ritual to ensure another successful harvest.
If these ancient traditions of Lammas are seen only as quaint remnants of a religion from a time when human survival depended on a good local harvest, there can be little in them that a contemporary Pagan living in a time of industrial farms and chemical fertilizers and insecticides can appreciate; but if we can see in these ancient rituals the symbolic essence of the rhythms of all of nature, upon which all of our lives are dependent, we can once again celebrate the ancient ways and draw upon their potent powers for our own well being and that of the planet.
As in all things, Lammas is not only a celebration of the goddess but the god as well. It is very likely that in the earliest phases of the old religion there were actually two religions that existed side by side and worked in tandem for the benefit of the whole community. One was practiced by women and dealt with child birth, time keeping, agriculture, tribal history, and medicine. The other was practiced mainly by men and dealt with rituals to appease the spirits of hunted animals, and with communication with the tribal ancestors. The latter is what is popularly called shamanism, and the former came to be known as witchcraft. Certainly, the lines between the two were not clearly drawn, areas overlapped, and priests and priestesses worked together and exchanged information for the benefit of all. Yet independently the priests served the horned god of death and resurrection, and priestesses served the goddess of fertility, the earth mother. Perhaps during the season of fertility and abundance the goddess was seen to dominate, while ever in the background lurked the lord of death. And in the winter months, the horned god was seen to dominate, and yet it was known that the goddess would reawaken and return from the underworld. No doubt priests and priestesses at the great Sabbats performed rites that expressed the interaction of the goddess and the god. It is this combination of practices that we, as contemporary Pagans and witches have inherited, and we must be ever mindful to maintain the balance.
As Lammas is the celebration of the harvest and the corn mother, so it is the celebration of the grain god whose life is sacrificed at the harvest. Some of the most ancient gods, Tammuz, Adonis, Attis, and later Dionysus, were vegetation and grain gods. As the goddess is eternal, ripening and aging and sleeping through the winter to be renewed and become the maiden once again, or descending into the underworld alive to find her beloved consort who has died, so the god must die in order to be born again.
This theme is told and retold, in the battles between the Oak King and the Holly King, the myths of Adonis, Tammuz, and Balder and the tales of Gawain and the Green Knight, and Taliesin and Cerridwen. The gods of these tales and legends are either the sun or the grain god, but it is not important which, since the two are ultimately one god. This god has spent the winter months in the underworld of the dead, returns in spring at the Vernal Equinox, grows to maturity through Midsummer, and is cut down in the prime of his life at Lammas or dies at the Autumn Equinox or Yule.
Most sun gods have two things in common: the fact that they die annually and are resurrected and that they have a radiant head of golden hair. These two aspects describe both the sun and ripening heads of grain perfectly.
Another name for Lammas is Lugnassad, named for the ancient Celtic sun god Lugh, whom these rights honored. It was not his life being celebrated, however, but his death being mourned that these rites commemorated. Lammas follows Midsummer when the sun is at its height of power, and marks the time when the darkness begins to wax as the light of the sun wanes.
It is quite obvious that in all cultures, the god in his aspect as the sun god, whose return in spring brought light and warmth and resurrection of nature, was recognized and honored long before his aspect as the god of grain and agriculture. When his aspect as the grain god was recognized, he was often perceived as the son of the sun god. In this aspect he is far more clearly a god of death and resurrection. In many mythologies, he combines the elements of the new grain god with the older sun god. One such myth is that of Llew Llaw Gyffs.
Llew Llaw Gyffs came into being as an emanation from the body of the goddess of death, Arianrhod. The emanation was captured by the god Gwydion before anyone could see what it was. The spark of life brought forth from the goddess of death grew rapidly into a young man with radiant golden hair. It is this rapid growth and blond hair that identifies him as a god of grain, but the radiant head of hair also identifies him as a sun god. Furthermore, his name Llew Llaw Gyffs is usually translated as meaning “the lion with the steady hand”—and a lion is an animal frequently associated with the sun. (The sign Leo, for instance, is ruled by the sun.) And finally, when Llew Llaw Gyffs is tricked into revealing the only way in which he can be killed, he is shot in the leg and turns into an eagle, another animal that is a symbol of the sun.
The similarities between the Celtic Llew Llaw Gyffs and the Teutonic sun god Balder are stunning. Balder, the beautiful and beloved god who was called “The Shining One” could only be killed by one creature, the mistletoe. So invulnerable was he, like Llew Llaw, that the gods used to take turns throwing weapons at him, until the secret of his destruction was revealed and the god of winter was tricked into throwing a shaft of mistletoe at him. Mistletoe grows on the tops of sacred oaks, which is where Llew Llaw sought refuge after he was fatally wounded. The idea that the myth of Llew Llaw Gyffs is telling us of an annual event is expressed in the fact that the only weapon that could harm him had to take a year and a day to be forged.
The fact, in the myth of Balder, that the gods took turns throwing their weapons at the god certainly resembles the old Pagan tradition of reapers taking turns throwing their sickles at the last standing sheaf of grain until it is finally struck down.
In order to represent the god at the Lammas Sabbat, we have found that a sun wheel made of eight ears of miniature or “squaw” corn, serves as a very powerful symbol. To make this sun wheel, all that is needed is some coat hanger wire, a wooden or heavy cardboard disc about three inches in diameter, carpenter’s glue, floral wire or twist-ties, and eight ears of squaw corn that are fairly equal in length. Bend the coat hanger wire into a circle about ten or twelve inches in diameter—wide enough that two ears of corn will fit across it with their tips touching in the center, and the point where the husk grows out of the cob resting on the wire. With the wire circle lying flat on the table, arrange the ears of corn in a radiating design. Then using floral wire or twist-ties, wire each ear to the circle of coat hanger wire (or use hot glue). Then, lifting the tips of the ears in the center of the circle, slip the wooden disc under them where all eight ears meet. Finally, lifting the tip one ear at a time, drop a large amount of the carpenter’s glue or hot glue under each one and allow the sun wheel to dry overnight.
The following day some of the husk of each ear of corn can be wound around the coat hanger wire to hide it, and held in place with a drop of glue. The corn/sun wheel will, of necessity, be made from ears of corn obtained the previous fall.
As a part of the Lammas Sabbat, both the corn sun wheel and the corn mother might be carried in procession into and around the circle, as part of the ritual, and then set up: the corn sun wheel in the west or north, the corn mother in the east or south.
Following the Sabbat rites, the two powerful ritual objects can be displayed until the Autumn Equinox, and then stored away, separately, in a place where they can rest throughout the dark half of the Wheel of the Year, safe from moths and mice. This corn mother is the same one that will be honored again at Imbolc. The corn sun wheel would not be used again until Lammas, and if it has been made to be kept permanently, it will become an even more powerful ritual object that will gather magickal energy to itself with each Lammas Sabbat.
When the grain has been harvested, it is then threshed and winnowed. The process of threshing breaks the grain from the straw and also releases it from the chaff, the hard shell that surrounds each grain. This is accomplished by pounding the bundles of grain which are laid out on the threshing floor with a wooden tool called a flail. So sacred was this process and the grain it liberated, that the ancient pharaohs of Egypt were depicted holding a flail in one hand and a crook in the other. And when King David entered Judea, he purchased a threshing floor upon which he built a temple. The threshing floor had such a powerful link to fertility that even today, of the myriad of rites and rituals that accompany a modern wedding, one is that the groom must carry the bride across the threshold on their wedding night. It is apparent from its name that at one time a threshold was a board nailed down to the threshing floor to prevent any of the precious grain from spilling out. In the Celtic myth of Cerridwen and Taliesin, the boy named Gwion Bach, through magick gained by receiving a drop of brew from Cerridwen’s cauldron, turns himself into a grain of wheat on a threshing floor. In the form of a black hen, Cerridwen eats the grain of wheat, and later in her own form, she gives birth to the wizard Taliesin.
Once the grain is threshed, it is then winnowed. This was done by tossing the threshed grain into the air with a basket or rake, and allowing the breezes to separate the wheat from the chaff.
The next process is to grind the wheat or other grain into flour. This was done, at one time, with a small hand quern and later with huge millstones. If the harvested grain is the body of the sacrificed grain god, then the millstone might be the silver wheel—the death goddess Arianrhod herself.
When the grain has been ground to flour, it is then moistened (and usually combined with other ingredients) and baked into bread. It is this loaf that is ritually eaten as the central point of the Lammas feast.
Here are two recipes for bread that will make appropriate and delicious main dishes for the Lammas feast.
The first is a cornbread recipe which is especially appropriate for American Pagans, since the predominant grain grown in this country for thousands of years has been corn. It does not require yeast and rising time, and it can be especially beautiful if it is baked in a corn bread mold that produces little loaves shaped like ears of corn.
Corn Bread
Pre-heat the oven to 425°. Then sift together:
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup yellow corn meal
1⁄4 cup of sugar
3⁄4 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons baking powder
Then blend in:
2 eggs
1 cup milk
1⁄4 cup shortening
Beat the batter only until it is smooth, but do not over beat it. Pour it into well greased corn molds, muffin tins, or a 9 x 9 pan and bake for 20 to 25 minutes. The corn bread is best when it is served still warm, with lots of sweet butter.
As the harvesting, winnowing, and grinding of the grain represents the death of the grain god, then to eat the sacred loaves is to partake of his body—and in so doing, to gain a tiny portion of his divine essence. For this reason, in many an ancient tradition, loaves of bread were baked in the shape of a corpse—not human form, but mummiform.
The following recipe for whole grain bread is one that is easily sculpted in the final moments of the last rising.
Whole Grain Bread
In a large mixing bowl, combine:
2 cups milk (warm to the touch)
2 packages of dry baking yeast
1 teaspoon salt
1⁄2 cup honey
1⁄4 cup dark brown sugar
Cover this mixture and set it aside in a warm place until it has doubled (about half an hour). Add to this mixture:
3 tablespoons softened butter
2 eggs
1 cup of unbleached white flour
Stir until bubbly. Now mix in:
1⁄2 cup wheat germ
1⁄2 cup of rolled oats
2 cups stone ground wheat flour
2 tablespoons sesame seed
With floured hands, turn this dough out onto a floured board and gradually knead in more unbleached white flour until the dough is smooth and elastic and no longer sticks to your fingers. Place this dough in a greased bowl, turning it so that the dough is greased. Then cover it with a clean cloth and keep it in a warm place to rise until it is doubled (about an hour). Then punch it down and divide it into two or more elongated loaves, roughly sculpted into mummiform shapes, and placed on greased cookie sheets. Cover these and return them to a warm place until they double again. Bake the loaves in a pre-heated oven at 350° for about an hour, or until they are done and sound hollow when tapped.
If the harvesting of the grain is the death of the grain god, then the sprouting of grain is his rebirth. In some Mediterranean countries women would sprout grains of wheat in clay dishes or bowls. These bowls of sprouted grain were called “Gardens of Adonis,” and were offered to the ancient god by being thrown into streams, rivers, or the sea. (In later times, they were offered to the old god by being left in the churches of the new one.)
As a preparation for the Lammas rites, you might wish to sprout some grains of wheat to be baked into the Lammas loaf as a symbol of rebirth, and also to use as offerings during the Lammas rites.
The best type of container to sprout anything in, I have found, is the unglazed terra cotta dishes exactly like the ones used under flower pots. Two of these about eight inches in diameter will be needed. Then soak about half a cup of wheat grains (available at health food stores) in a cup of cold water overnight. The following morning, rinse them in a bowl of cold water and reject any that float. Then place them in one of the terra cotta dishes and cover them with the other. Leave the covered grain in a dark, quiet place where it will begin to grow and stir as if in the womb of the earth herself. On the following day, rinse the wheat again in cold water and return it to its covered dish and dark, quiet place. Rinse the sprouts each day, and then on Lammas Eve (or whenever the Lammas loaves are to be baked) remove about half of the sprouts and stir them into the bread dough at the appropriate time. (Sprouts may be substituted for the rolled oats and sesame seeds in the recipe given above.) Rinse the other half one more time and allow them to stand in direct sunlight. This will bring green chlorophyll into any of the leaves that might have formed.
These are the sprouts that will be offered on Lammas Day. When the right stream or river has been found, lower the dish of sprouts into the water and gently allow them to float away, with words like:
God of Grain
Lord of Rebirth
Return in Spring
Renew the Earth
Lammas Day in Europe was traditionally a day to pick berries, particularly bilberries. Picking and eating bilberries was once a sacred act. At Lammas in our part of the country, there are no berries to be picked. Strawberries, raspberries, and blueberries all have passed, and there won’t be another crop of raspberries until October. But these berries were picked and preserved earlier in the year, and the jam from them is delicious on corn bread or whole grain bread, especially when it is warm from the oven. And even more so when it is served along with sweet butter!
Bread spread thick with butter is an especially appropriate Lammas meal, because butter is sacred to Bride, who is another aspect of the corn mother.
Liquor made from grain such as ale, beer, or whiskey is as much a part of the Lammas feast as bread. In this aspect, the god of grain is known affectionately as John Barleycorn. Because these liquors have the power to alter consciousness as well as give good cheer, they were held in the same regard as certain herbs and mushrooms by the ancient people. To the followers of the cult of Dionysus, wine was sacred for the same reason and the drinking of it was considered a sacred ritual. Dionysus is a vegetation god identified with the vine, but, like other grain and vegetation gods, he is primarily a god of death and resurrection. Dionysus apparently evolved directly from an earlier shamanic god of animals, who presided over the spirits of animals slain in the hunt and who brought about their rebirth in order that they might be hunted again. The priests of Dionysus, the Lupercei, still wore the goatskin costumes of their shamanic predecessors; while the god himself was a god not only of the wild hunt and the vine, but of the death and resurrection of humans as well.
Dionysus came to be considered the male counterpart of the grain goddess Demeter, who established the center of her worship at Elusis, where she was once treated with much kindness. Here the Elusian mysteries were annually performed, but little is known about them because those that participated in these rites were sworn to secrecy. Only one small portion of the rites is known, that is that participants were shown a single ear of corn and told, “Behold the ear of corn, reaped in silence.”
Like the followers of the Cults of Attis, and of Dionysus, the worshippers of Demeter and Persephone were granted victory over death and life everlasting.
As the wort moon wanes and the barley moon waxes, the afternoons of August buzz with the sound of insects. High in the trees cicadas call, while in the fields and meadows crickets chirp and the sounds of insects are louder than the songs of birds. In the pear tree, the birdhouse hangs empty now, where a month or so ago busy wrens fed their hungry brood.
Where men once walked with sickles and scythes gathering the golden harvest by hand, now mechanized monsters mow the sacred grain. Yet here and there in secret silence, small groups gather to honor the grain god and the corn mother, to share the sacred loaf and sip the ancient brew, and by these ancient ways retrieved from the past, ensure a future for the old gods and their hidden children.
Amid the abundance of August, we sense an urgency to prepare for the leaner days that lie ahead. Now braids of onions with crisp amber skins hang from the rafters of the wood shed, drying in the summer breezes. In another month they will be brought to the root cellar where they will be kept for winter meals. Red tomatoes ripening now will soon be crushed and simmered and canned for winters ahead, and the crock of sauerkraut that has undergone a transformation in a quiet corner of the cellar, too, will be packed into bright shiny glass jars.
In the vineyard, the broad leaves of the grape vines bask in the sun, producing sugar for the clusters of grapes that hang, still green, from the vines; but as September approaches, and roadsides and hedgerows are splashed with the yellow of goldenrod and the red of sumach, so will the grapes blush to purple and black. But for now we must wait and look forward to autumn days.