Over the weekend I met with my monthly discussion group of Pagan-friendly seekers, but this particular meeting was far from ordinary—I mean, how often do you have to kick someone out for suggesting human sacrifice?
It was a larger group this time around, with a number of new faces. We started out by going around the circle to talk about how we go about breaking negative patterns in our lives and establishing new and productive ones, and then we opened the floor to questions.
Right off the bat, one of the newcomers asked straight out if any of us participated in animal sacrifices.
Yeah. I was definitely taken off-guard by the question, but others in the group handled it with apparent ease. Except that this guy kept hammering at the idea that Judaism and Islam are killing animals in religious sacrificial ritual to no meaningful end. Honestly, I was having a hard time understanding precisely what he was trying to convey, and I never was clear why he singled out those two religions in particular. He kept making essentially the same misguided and highly prejudicial statements over and over again about other people’s practices and beliefs, despite being offered real information to the contrary.
I tried to play peace-maker. I tried to get to the fundamental core of what he was driving at, but failed. I tried to establish some common ground. I wasn’t actually trying to agree with him, but I hoped that he would feel like he was being heard and that then we could move onto a different topic of conversation. I failed at that, too. It was mystifying, really, and I was still trying to get over the shock of the fact that someone had even asked such a question to begin with. It also didn’t help that I was on a new medication for the continuing headaches and was feeling really tired and like I was about a half-step behind everyone else in the conversation.
Somehow, someone in the group turned the discussion by making a comment about the baby that was present. Two of the attendees had brought their grandson with them, and he had remained blissful and happy throughout. As a group, we marveled at the baby’s pleasant disposition, at which point the troublemaking newcomer—who was sitting immediately next to the baby—suggested that we sacrifice the baby.
I was stunned. The room fell silent, but that didn’t last. One lady told him that he had crossed a line with that comment, and others directed him to leave. Thank goodness he did leave, and following his departure we had a lovely discussion about how all life is connected. Apart from that unpleasantness, it was really one of the better meetings we’ve had.
But I still feel shaken by that encounter, and by my reaction to it. It was entirely appropriate for the group to ask him to leave, and I’m glad that they did so. But I’d spent all that time trying to find common ground with someone who apparently had no interest in shared points of view. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d personally encountered a stranger who was so intent on causing discord, and up to that point it hadn’t even occurred to me that, as a member of the group and ostensibly even as its facilitator, I had the right to kick him out.
I’ve always downplayed my anger and outrage. I’ve always played nice. I’ve put others before myself and worked hard to make everybody comfortable, past the point that I myself was uncomfortable. I’m a good Southern hostess. It’s been too important for me to have other people like me even when I don’t like them. I’ve always been accommodating and swallowed my pain and discomfort, even when other people were hurting me, because I was raised not to make a fuss, not to take a stand, and not to draw attention to myself.
I am so grateful to the others in the group who didn’t have any such qualms. That guy absolutely had to go. I’m grateful to them not for taking the burden off of me but for embodying that strength that I’ve been afraid of. I honestly hope there’s no “next time” in regards to a repeat performance from that particular individual or from others like him, but I hope that if and when I do run into such a situation again that I won’t pull any punches, that I’ll recognize sooner when peace-making is about as productive as arguing with a drunk, and that I’ll have the personal courage to call bullshit.
Oh, and that I won’t be in pain nor on medication that leaves me feeling like I’m a half-step behind everything. That would be helpful, too.
Creative Commons photo: balance scale by winnifredxoxo
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The guy was obviously crazy. (I was once assistant a psychiatric counselor). I would have confronted him with “reality therapy” which might have been dangerous—but even at 80 years, I can still handle most opponents. You need a sergeant at arms at your meetings!
Our coven is 20 years old. Most average only 8 years. We carefully interview everyone that wishes to join us. But we were surprised by one lady who said she had belonged to other groups when she asked us, “How much blood to I have to give you to join?” Yikes! What kind of groups did she belong to??? (We rejected her, telling her that we wouldn’t be a good fit).