Let's Build an Altar

welcome to Spooky Season on Heretic Hereafter

Is it just me or are these giant hands kinda creepy? Photo by Jacob Antony on Unsplash

One thing I’ve learned while writing this Substack is that transcendence is a universal, if rare, experience. Human beings are generally self-obsessed—we fixate on our own aches and pains and grievances, but also, everyone experiences moments where we feel connected to something higher or bigger than ourselves. You may feel it with the swell of a symphony or the greenness of the forest. It may come to you in a mug of tea or in the weight of a loved one’s hand.

I think we need these moments to counteract our egocentricity. We are small and finite. As a writing teacher recently reminded me, our ordeals aren’t really that interesting except to the people who love us.

Most of my big spiritual moments have happened in church. Specifically, I love religious rituals. Give me robes and censers, smells and bells, an eighty-year-old Anglican minister singing communion liturgy off-key. I want a candle-lit round of Silent Night and the drama of an altar being stripped bare on Maunday Thursday.

Part of me feels silly about this—I studied theater at a Christian college, and once you learn how that art form developed from worship rituals, you can’t unsee the connection. How much of a moving church service is simply good theater? If I feel something, how can I know whether it’s the divine rather than a human manipulation using lights, sounds, smells? I want to know whether I’m being manipulated. And does it matter?

There’s plenty of evidence that rituals work: it’s the reason we’re all advised not to watch TV or stare at our phones in bed. The idea is you only associate “bed” with “sleep” then your body will take those environmental cues and help you feel appropriately tired. The same is true for writers trying to establish a writing practice. Most of the writers I know write in the same spot, at the same time of day. Some even perform special actions to tell their brains it’s time to be creative: putting on fuzzy socks, lighting a candle, listening to specific music. Rituals are, perhaps, a concerted effort at creating a spiritual habit.

This month being spooky season, it felt like an apt time to look at the role of ritual in spiritual life. (Or if I’m feeling very punny, should I say witch-uals?) Specifically, I want to look at private rituals—both those traditional to Christianity and those it considers taboo. Does regular practice lead to increased feelings of transcendence or new insight? Or does it show these things to be hollow manipulations?

To set the table for these rituals, I recently spent some time building a personal altar. That may sound very woo woo, but home altars are common to religions around the world. In the predominantly Vietnamese neighborhood where I live, many businesses have Buddhist altars smoking with incense and hosting offerings of mandarin oranges, and I always smile when I see them. While uncommon in American Protestantism, many Catholic and Eastern Orthodox homes have an altar or an icon corner. Old manor homes and castles in Europe commonly contain prayer nooks or small chapels.

I don’t live in a manor, neither do I particularly believe the spirits of my ancestors are hungry, so I went a different direction, starting with a shelf from Micheal’s Crafts. It was on clearance; I know my ancestors would be well pleased. I hung it above my desk (okay, I asked my husband hang it, nothing sends me into a rage like trying to hang things on drywall) as that’s where I journal, read tarot cards, and write, which I consider to be my most spiritual activities. I added items to the altar representing these activities, then threw in some incense, and a candle holder I got on a recent trip to Scotland (another nod to the ancestors.) This summer on a visit to a Californian mission, I found a sacred heart carving that spoke to me, so I added that. I topped it all off with a compact mirror I inherited from my grandmother (mirrors seem very witchy) and some of my son’s artwork to fill it out. Here’s the final result:

I do think the altar could use more googly eyes…

What do you think? Is anything missing? In researching other types of altars, such as Wiccan or those made for Día de los Muertos, those often contain nods to the four elements, plants, herbs, or in the case of Día de los Muertos, marigolds. Photos of ancestors also feature prominently. I’m sitting with the altar now and will see if it feels like it needs these things.

So far I’m not sure the altar adds anything to my spiritual life. The incense is pretty strong, but I don’t mind smelling like a yoga studio. Should I be doing something special at the altar? Meditating? Performing black magic? Or is its primary purpose making my husband uncomfortable? I will report back!

When do you feel most transcendent? Do you have any at-home spiritual rituals? Do you have an “altar” or something similar? Feel free to share in the comments so we can learn from each other. And why not share this post with your most woo woo friend?