The most well-known Greek myth where the Goddess Hekate plays one of the
central roles, is the myth of Demeter and Persephone, also known as the Homeric
Hymn to Demeter. The story consists of the abduction of Demeter’s
daughter, Persephone, also known as the Kore - meaning The Maiden - at the behest of
Zeus, who arranged for this daughter of his and Demeter’s to become the bride of his
brother, Hades, the ruler of the realm of the Dead. This was an arrangement made
without the knowledge of Demeter nor Persephone, and when the abduction occurred,
caused great stress, panic and pain for both Goddesses.
Devotees of Hekate know this myth well. We know of how it was Hekate, and
only Hekate, who heard the cries of Demeter’s daughter, and it was only Hekate who
stepped forward to help the grieving Goddess discover what became of her. It was also
Hekate who took part in the negotiations between the Gods regarding how long
Persephone would be required to remain in Hades’ realm, since she had eaten those
pomegranate seeds while there, as well as when it was that she could return to her
mother’s realm on the Earth. We also know that during these negotiations, Hekate
promised both Demeter and Persephone that she would walk before Persephone every
time she returned to the above world and walk before her every time she made her
descent to the realm below. Not only that, but Hekate also stated that she would stay
behind in Persephone’s place in the Underworld while the young goddess was with her
mother.
While this myth often is described as a story that explains the seasons, as well
as a myth that, according to Jennifer Reif in the book The Mysteries of Demeter, may
reflect the lives of ancient Greek women and their daughters - marriages were arranged
by men, and when daughters left the homes of their mothers, visitation was not easy, as
women had few rights and could not exactly come and go as they pleased, nor could
they come and go without being accompanied by their fathers or husbands - I have
come to see this myth as reflective of my Priestess work within the Indiana Department
of Corrections.
To explain this, I have to step back a bit in time and describe to readers my
Votary Dedication ritual. A Votary is what we, within the Temple of the Hallowed Gods
(the community I belong to), call a person who is in training to become clergy. In 2010, I
started my training as a Votary of Hekate. We make a point to put a lot into these
dedication rituals that kick off the program because we’ve learned that what takes place
in these rituals often foreshadows th e path of that Votary.
Mine took place in Delaware, at Seelie Court, the complex of some of our friends
who founded the tradition called The Assembly of the Sacred Wheel. It’s a large piece
of land where at least five of the founders live, where they built these amazing, magical
geodesic homes that include indoor and outdoor ritual spaces. It’s also home to the
New Alexandria Library. One night, after doing a lot of work on the land, my coven
started the Votary training of three of our members, myself included.
I was called out of the house and into an outdoor ritual circle, only lit by torch
light. After a series of questions about who I was, what I wanted and why I was there, I
was given a flashlight and sent into the woods.
I had literally no idea what to do. None.
My Priestess had told me, “You know what to do.” But I didn’t. I just started
walking, remembering, somehow, what trail I was on and where it would lead. I thought
to myself. “I’ll go sit at the Ancestor Shrine.” As a brand new Votary of Hekate, who
collects and controls the Restless Dead, I thought that would be a good place to go and
figure out what I was doing.
The minute I sat down, I heard the hybrid wolves inside the house start
going wild. Back then I took that to mean I was in the wrong place, but as I wrote
this I realized that She was on Her way. And by She, I mean Hekate. Since
classical times it’s been known that her arrival is heralded by the sound of
barking dogs.
I jumped up from the bench and started walking again, this time ending up near the
labyrinth. I walked it, and when I got to the center, I simply sat down and waited, still
unsure of what to do. Eventually, I stood again, walked the labyrinth back out, and
decided to just head back to the ritual circle. It was exactly what I was supposed to do.
Within 8 months, my life was rapidly changing, and I found myself living in
another state, in rural area where my husband grew up, an area I only visited
sometimes at Christmas or a week or so in the summer. Now I was here, and I wasn’t
going home. I was here, still doing my training, completely unsure of where I was going
just like that night in the woods.
A big part of our training includes community service, because essentially that’s
what clergy does - serves community. But I didn’t know this community. How could I
help it if I didn’t know anything about it?
A year into my training, I found myself at a Pagan Pride Day in Indianapolis. By
myself, just wandering the different booths. One of the booths was for the now defunct
Indianapolis Pagan Prison Ministry. I took a flier because that seemed interesting, and I
needed a project. I contacted the email address. Within a few days, I got a reply that
said something like, “Hi. We definitely need help. Would you be interested in going out
to Rockville Women’s Correctional Facility?”
I just stared at the screen. Rockville. I was being asked to go to Rockville, the
same prison from a show I had watched, almost religiously, on the Oprah network the
year before I moved away from home. The women at Rockville had been writing for a
year or two requesting a volunteer and no one was willing to drive out that far. The
Pagan women at Rockville were only able to meet once a year for about 30 minutes.
That’s it.
Would I go to Rockville? I would absolutely go to Rockville, and outside of the
lockdowns during Covid, I’ve been going to Rockville since Beltane, in May of 2012.
I look at that night in the woods at Seelie Court as reflective of my work as a
Priestess who volunteers in a state prison. While I do also work with birthing women,
and the birth spiral is a labyrinth, - women have to spiral down and in, and out into the
Universe, find their baby and come back with them - my work with inmates is also like a
labyrinth. I walk with them to the center of themselves, their programs, their time, and
for many, I’ve walked them back out. Often, in the last circle before they leave, we even
sing them out.
While in many ways, the walk that night could be reflective of the journey the
women in my prison group go through - walking the labyrinth of prison life - I don’t know
that life, personally. I will never fully understand what they go through, but I can tap into
the virtue of Compassion and find empathy for their experiences, whether they are
appropriate to their crimes or not.
In one of Christina Moraiti’s classes about the epithets of Hekate, she said
something that really made me pause. It was during the epithet chthonia (I’m pretty sure
anyway), that Christina mentioned that, unlike Persephone, Hekate can come and go
from the realms at will. In a flash, I saw myself walking into and out of the heavy, metal,
computer controlled sally port doors of the prison, coming and going from the prison as I
please. As a volunteer, staff cannot hold me there, not even when movement of the
inmates is frozen. I rarely take that moment of leaving that place for granted.
My work is also reflective of Hekate’s companionship of Persephone on her
journeys of descent and ascent. Of course, I am not literally shining torchlight as they
enter and eventually leave prison, but that torchlight shines regardless. It shines as I
teach a class, or lead a ritual. It shines when we work through problems, as well as
experience magic together. That light shines as I add donated books to the Pagan
Prison Library that I built. It shines when they contact me for guidance after they leave
the facility and transition to life outside again. In fact, the name I chose during my
Ordination in 2014 actually means torchbearer.
To bear Her torches in this way has been some of the most precious, and
sometimes the most difficult work I’ve done as a devotee and Priestess. It’s also work
that I do alone and have done alone for many, many years. Help would be great, but I
guess just like Hekate, I walk alone on those roads and stand at that crossroads alone,
shining some light in a place that is often so very dark.
As modern devotees of Hekate, looking at her myths, as well as her epithets, we can
search for ways to work and be of assistance within our communities embodying and
shining forth her qualities and attributes. It may not be prison work, but considering she
is such a wide-ranging goddess, there are almost countless ways to bring our work and
her work together to make a difference in the world.
August 13 th , 2024
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