A NIGHT OF INITIATIONSCENTER.
During my years of managing a New Age center in Rhode Island, there were many opportunities to create a sense of community through ceremonial gatherings. I got to know my neighbors and drew from the tremendous well of talent they offered to facilitate these special events.
Weeks before one of our planned get-togethers, I was approached by two women I knew. They were lovers, living in the same house with one of their Mothers and one young son. They told me that their son (we'll call him Doug), was about to have his twelfth birthday on the night of our gathering. Could we come up with some kind of ceremony to initiate him into Manhood at that event? I gladly accepted the challenge, wondering what we could do
The night came after much preparation. We met at sundown in the back meadow of a horse ranch, and began to build an altar. There were perhaps 150 people present, and many of them had brought candles, crystals and medicine objects to place on the large flat stones before the blazing fire. A woman's group had spent weeks preparing costumes and choreographing a sacred dance they performed for us . There was drumming, and poetry, and much laughter. As new as all this was to many participants, something deep inside them felt quite at home with what was going on.
At a pre-arranged moment, I rose and invited all Men present to stand up and join me. I called Doug forward, and told the crowd that he had asked to be welcomed into our community as a Man, and was ready to undertake the necessary initiation that evening. I then blindfolded him, turned him around three times, and called loudly for his guide to come forward.
>From far across the darkened meadow, a shadowy figure drew near. He appeared immense , with flowing robes and a mask. Striding towards us with his staff, feathers in his hair, he stopped before the boy. Most of the crowd would have recognized him in street clothes. Yet on this night , he was acting the part of someone ancient and glorious, and he reveled in his role.
As Doug was led off, I gathered the Men in a circle out of earshot of the main group. Some of the women grumbled as we started off, not wanting to be left out, and I explained that our actions were designed to ultimately bring more connectedness to the gathering, not separation. I also said that I fully supported any rites the women wished to honor in and among themselves.
I don't think any of the men standing in a circle with me knew what was going to happen . I barely did, save for some general ideas and a few props. I explained that this young man had asked his Mother to request our involvement , in honoring his desire to become a man. I shared the challenges he was experiencing in a household full of women. As loving and supportive as his family was, they recognized that there were things that a woman cannot do for a boy. I asked the brothers to be fully present and in their hearts , sincerely giving their attention to any emotions that might emerge.
By this time, the boy and his guardian had returned in silence.. Doug was placed in the middle of the circle, still blindfolded. We said to him that we'd heard he wanted to join the circle of men, and asked if he could tell us one barrier in his life that kept him from his own power. He stood for a moment and then vehemently exclaimed "My Grandmother is always yelling at me!" We then asked him to show us that he had the strength to overcome that obstacle. We linked arms and elbows together and challenged him to break free. Still blindfolded, he struggled and pushed and charged , using his strength to the limit. Before he could hurt himself (or one of us), we let him break through.
Removing his blindfold , the boy stood before us with red face and panting breath. He proudly wore the ceremonial outfit he had made and decorated himself in preparation for this night. Looking around for the first time at all the men encircling him, a strange look came over is face. He stood tall as he was smudged from head to toe with eagle feathers and sage.
Draping him with a cape made from Badger skins, we told him that though the Badger may be small, his strength is respected by all the other animals of the forest. We handed him a phallus-shaped stone we had found on the beach and rubbed with red ochre, telling him that yes, sisterhood was powerful, yet never be ashamed to be a Man. He was given a secret name as a buckskin medicine pouch was placed around his neck, and it's contents explained.
Then, he stood before each of the men in turn. They sprinkled him with cornmeal, and blessed him with a feather touching his shoulders and head. Every man spoke his blessing in his own way, taking the time for deep and heartfelt words of guidance and encouragement. By the time Doug had completed the circle, there wasn't a dry eye in the group. These men had realized that they were also initiating the small boy in themselves that had never had the benefit of such a ceremony. The Fathers had become the Son.
Doug stood before us for a quiet moment, looking very different from the little boy we knew from the neighborhood. None of us wanted the moment to end. We gave a cheer , and there were hugs, handshakes and congratulations all around. It was a moment of manly pride that seemed as novel to many of us as it did sweet. As a group, we turned and strode towards the fire and the rest of the waiting assembly. Calling out, we loudly proclaimed, "There is a New Man among us!". Cheers and drumbeats echoed in the nearby forest as we joined the Mothers, sisters , lovers and little boys who watched with envious eyes.
For a few brief moments, we shared something very old and special. When we look at the statistics of how many young men are being raised in Fatherless homes, we shake our heads in sorrow. I would like to report that this night was followed by continuing sponsorship of Doug's growth by many of the men present. However, that was not the case. We all went back to our busy schedules , and Doug went back to his life as a struggling young male in a house full of women. His is only one of the countless tales of growing up alone.
The brief moments of glory are inspiring, but it's the day to day nurturing of a boy that truly makes the man. My hope in recounting this tale is to show that even a small effort for one evening can at least plant a seed. When we reach out to these young men, we receive as much as we give. They are the Warriors of tomorrow, and looking at the state of the world, they will need all the help they can get. It is our duty and privilege to reach out to them . It is our heritage as men to have something to pass on. Our actions and our blessings can make a difference in the lives of these boys. They are all our sons...
Essay By Richard Rodgers, DEI Staff Writer