My original idea for the Agape was a retreat. I envisioned all eight of us spending at least 24 hours together in a place away from our daily environment, talking, eating, thinking and meditating together, after a preparation of silence and fasting. However our schedules didn't allow for that, so instead we agreed to meet a few hours beforehand and share some simple food.
Zapapaias and I arrived last. The group was already there; Brother D, of course, being our host and master of ceremonies, Golden Voice, Drummer Boy, Brother Peace, Healer and Rosebearer. The small room where the feast table had been set was warm, cosy, full of pillows and candles, a perfect cradle for the divine to settle in. In a corner people had already offered up their sacred tools. I added mine: an icon of the Magdalene given to me by my mentor, an icon of the Virgin and Child brought back from Brazil by Zapapaias, a picture of my brother and I, Jake the Lizard (being a sweet gift of Rosebearer), two tarot cards from the Rider-Waite deck, namely the lovers and the sun, and a great number of candles!
We began the ceremony at 5 pm with the ringing of the bell. Brother D started with a welcome and a Buddhist meditation from the Gandavyuha Sutra about the joy of having found true friends. After the reading, Brother D spoke a little and then we all communicated.
Right afterwards we all took turns, orally or silently, dedicating the Agape. I dedicated it to my brother.
Then there was silence ... silence ... silence. I had imagined 20 minutes would be enough time for the sacrament to reveal its power, so after 30 minutes I decided to end the silent meditation. I could hear Drummer Boy impatiently tapping his little drum pad. Not that I minded. I wanted to tell him it was OK but I couldn't. In order to do that I had to end the meditation and sing the Agape Hymn even though I was far from feeling the effects. I knew my voice would be tighter, not so sharp, not so clear, not the best, but It had to happen. We all knew that the Hymn would mark the beginning of the trip. So I chanted:
Glory be to thee, Entheogenos.
Glory be to thee, O Logos.
Glory be to thee, Grace.
Glory be to thee, O Spirit.
Glory be to thee, O Holy One.
Glory be to thy Glory.
We praise thee, Entheogenos.
We thank thee, O Light,
In whom darkness dwelleth not.
AMEN.
Grace dances.
I will pipe, Dance, all of you.
I will sing, Rejoice ye pure in heart.
The drink sings praises with us,
the substance dances on high.
To the All
it belongs to dance in the heights.
For the one who does not dance,
does not know what happens.
If you know how to dance,
you are able to see me.
What you do not know,
I myself will teach you.
I am your God
and I am your companion.
I will that holy souls
be made in harmony with me.
Understand the word of Wisdom!
Say again with me:
Glory be to thee, Entheogenos.
Glory be to thee, O Logos.
Glory be to thee, O Light.
AMEN.
(This text is based on the Hymn to Christ in the Acts of John, New Testament Apocrypha. I wrote a simple chant to go along.)
The hymn done and the bell rung, the liturgy was open to the group. We discussed for a little bit our situation vis-a-vis the sacrament. Only Brother D and Rosebearer were in the spirit. We waited. Golden Voice had opted out of taking MDMA, preferring the sacred herb.
Soon after the opening of the ceremony (after the Agape Hymn) Golden Voice offered us a most wonderful gift: she sang "Amazing Grace" for us. A grace indeed felt! The spirit was coming down, resting upon my shoulder as her words filled the room and our hearts. Indeed it was an amazing grace, that grace that passes all understanding. I was moved; I was in communion with everyone else in the room. It was as if, at that moment, all barriers had come down, all suffering had ended, all pain had been relieved, all joys had been known. I forgave the offences I had suffered and was forgiven for my sins. I thought of that woman and that child that I had hurt. I felt delivered from the agony of guilt. I thought of that man that I would never be able to see. I felt free. I thought of that man that was still grieving, still silently bleeding. I inwardly dared asking for pardon. I thought of the man I was with, of the pain I had suffered. I was healed. I was strengthened. I was redeemed. Amazing grace, how sweet the sound! It must have been 50 minutes since the ingestion. Wow, Golden Voice's tune was lifting me away into a supernatural dimension and the sacrament was simultaneously making its healing presence known.
The song over, we all looked at each other and smiled. We were all "there." Zapapaias sang one of his sacred songs (something from Crowley for which he wrote a tune). At some point I sang one of my favourite hymns called "For the fruit of all creation." The music reminds me of a past time which I think I once knew, once lived in. Later Healer showed us some of her work not by reading, not by singing, but the work of her hands, beadwork. Beautiful work requiring a lot of patience. I knew Rosebearer was proud of her work. She also told us how once she was about to commit suicide and that MDMA saved her life, gave her hope in herself and in the future. She then passed around a beautiful Native American peace pipe, filled with sweet and light tobacco. We all smoked from it in peace and with many thanks.
Poems of Burns were read, and the melody was enough to touch even the most savage soul (I am thinking of mine). Zapapaias showed me a picture of Inanna his goddess. He was afraid before of showing it to me because he thought I would be jealous. I laughed. Yes, I am jealous. I think my jealousy comes from my fear of abandonment. I am very trusting and thus I have learned through painful experiences not to trust too much, lest I get hurt. I have often been accused of being aloof. I don't deny the statement. If you don't give of yourself fully, you always have a place to retire to. So jealousy comes as a shield. Of course I should know better. Jealousy is a false shield, a shield that doesn't protect, far from it. I have come to realize that when I act jealously, when I try to keep for myself the person I care for, I am simply trying to protect myself from pain, from abandonment, from loneliness. Lack of self-confidence at some level. Jealousy towards other women, yes. But jealousy towards the divine? That is impossible. As secular as I am, I am not one to confuse the divine with the mundane. We put the picture of the goddess on my little altar.
As the sacrament slowly wore off, we quieted down a bit. We all respected each other's space, each other's words, each other's silences. We all took turns sharing something powerful with the group and I believe we all came out of the experience enriched. And surprised too. How easy it is to feel free in such a safe setting. MDMA helps tremendously, of course.
We ended the evening around midnight with the Doors playing The End. The lyrics had never made sense to me before. That night they appeared three dimensional. I felt as if I was flying or swimming in the great sky or the great ocean that the music was. The lyrics were like fish or birds moving all around me. I went to bed with blue sharks shaped like the Venus of Milo floating through my mind.
I woke up the next day wondering what had happened. Of course something had happened. After all I was the main liturgist with the title of Priestess, the main theologian behind the liturgy. I had thought about the theory behind the Agape for a long time. We had all shared of ourselves, and shared a deep part of ourselves. We all came together for the chance to see the occasion rise. We learned from each other. I am shy. I don't sing for people, not usually and not without tremendous fear. I thus figured the greatest gift to my friends would be to transcend my fear for them. Others shared other parts of themselves.
How do I feel as the liturgist? Certain elements have to be met in order to have a liturgy, a cultus. I think they were met that night. Underhill cites four necessary elements of cultus: 1) ritual or liturgical pattern, 2) symbol or significant sacrament, 3) sacrament (not as mere signifier but as a conveyor of invisible realities), and 4) sacrifice or voluntary offering. Our agape was unusual, unique, out of the ordinary. But the structure was present. The bell was rung to delimit the sacred time. The symbol was the communion/dedication. The outward and visible form of the sacrament was MDMA; the inward and spiritual grace imparted was manyfold, from healing to the building of community to personal growth. The sacrifice was evident from the gifts offered up on the altar. We shared in the sacrament for and with our brothers and sisters, our parents, our loved ones, our friends, not only the people present but those absent. We offered ourselves up for and to them, as channels of grace, as bearers of gifts later to be shared.
I left Harvard a couple weeks later. I feel that I have left behind true and deep friends, people with whom I shared one of the most meaningful experiences of my life. People I trust. People who have seen a very important and personal part of me. People to whom I am joined in love.
I also met another side of the divine. There was no great revelation of God that night, no road to Damascus episode. But there was a peace, a certain sense of comfort, of spiritual truth. Of all the people there, I think I am the most concerned with organised religion. I am an Episcopalian and most of my knowledge and experience of God has been acquired through the Church. A rare thing, I know. But that night I met another aspect of God, the God that dwells in each and everyone of us, in our souls, in our hearts, in our minds. It was a God I had always believed in but never met. In a sense, I regained a bit of lost faith.
These are only my first thoughts on the matter. More will unfold as time goes by.
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