Christopaganism in Three Branches
Rooted in the Vine, Rising Beyond Empire. A Christopagan Manifesto, Part 3
Now that we have answered: What is the Imperial Church? and What is Christopaganism?, it’s time for something ancient to rise from the ashes of institutional faith: a return to the wild, living root of spirituality that empire could never tame. If we are going to call ourselves Christopagan, we need a vision for what this path might look like.
We need to walk to the edge of inherited tradition, listening for a voice that calls from beyond the boundaries drawn by empire. This is a path for anyone who feels there must be more to Christian faith than creeds, who long to reconstruct something deep, something that offers a path toward belonging and authentic transformation.
Root and Vine: Christopaganism as a Living Faith
I am a Christopagan Druid. That phrase, by itself, feels like a Zen koan; something at once strange, provocative, and oddly familiar to anyone who has ever stood at the crossroads of traditions. But I did not come to it lightly, nor do I claim it as a badge of superiority or courage. It’s simply the best name I’ve found for a path that runs deeper than Christian orthodoxy and wider than any one Pagan tradition, rooted in Jesus as the living vine, yet branching out into the wild groves and mysteries of the world.
What is Christopaganism? It is a living spirituality that refuses the false choice between Jesus and the call of Spirit, between mysticism and pagan reverence for nature, between orthodoxy and openness. It is a faith that drinks deeply from many wells while remaining rooted in the living Christ; the Vine whose roots reach deeper than empire, whose branches shelter more than one kind of bird. This isn’t syncretism for its own sake, nor is it an attempt to cobble together a faith from whatever is trendy or convenient. For many of us, it is simply honesty about where our hearts and histories meet.
1. The Hidden Anti-Imperial Church
Within every church, every sect, every denomination; no matter how rigid the creed, there have always been those who hear the voice of Christ but refuse the gospel of empire. These hidden ones might never call themselves Christopagans, but by their fruit you will know them. They embody the core teachings of Jesus: love, peacemaking, humility, wisdom, without bowing to the self-proclaimed princes of the church. They are the quiet resisters, the healers, the ones who cannot stomach the hate, exclusion, and fear-mongering that have too often passed for “orthodoxy.”
Often, these are the mystics and prophets who stayed within the church, sometimes at great personal cost, refusing to let institutional corruption drive them away from the root of their faith. Think of Julian of Norwich, tending her visions in a dark time, or Meister Eckhart, speaking of the birthing of God in the soul, or the Beguines who lived lives of service and contemplation outside the reach of bishops and popes. Their resistance was rarely loud or violent; it was the quiet, stubborn insistence that love, not power, is the heart of the gospel.
Throughout history, many of these hidden anti-imperialists tried to reform the church from within. New movements rose; rooted in justice, equality, and mystical devotion, only to be co-opted or crushed by empire’s endless need for control. The Anabaptists, the Quakers, the early Methodists, and even the first Franciscans all began as anti-imperial movements, only to be tamed or absorbed over time.
Yet even as institutions ossified, these anti-imperial roots persisted, keeping the flame of the gospel alive in secret, in small acts of kindness, whispered prayers, defiant gatherings beneath the surface. Even today, we will find them wherever Christians defy violence, racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, and exclusion, and quietly practice what Jesus preached.
Why does this matter? Because it’s all too easy, when building something new, to cast aspersions on whole groups of people or churches, as if every member is complicit in empire. The truth is: the empire has always been resisted. There are Christ-lovers in every tradition who refuse to play the games of power.
In the widest sense, Christopaganism is simply living according to the teachings of Jesus; rooted in love and wisdom, without capitulating to the colonizing, power-hungry ambitions of the Imperial Church. It is a tradition of resistance and renewal, more widespread than we often recognize.
These hidden ones remind us: wherever people are living in the spirit of Jesus, embodying compassion and justice, the roots of Christopaganism are alive. We find them in Catholic parishes, Protestant fellowships, Orthodox monasteries, and even outside the walls of any formal church. They are not waiting for permission from authority; their authority comes from the call of love.
2. The Open and Accepting Church
If the first branch is hidden, the second is visible. Here you find communities that openly reject the empire’s divisions, dogmas, and exclusions, and strive to build churches where all are welcome and all are honored. I see this spirit most clearly in Celtic Christianity, in the Pelagian tradition that refuses to die, in the communitarian churches that will not condemn on the basis of ethnicity, gender, sexuality, or social status. These are the inheritors of Eriugena, Eckhart, the Beguines, those mystics and rebels who reminded the church that God is found as much in the green world and in loving community as in any creedal formula.
Such churches are, in every sense, radical. They refuse the tired binaries of sacred and secular, church and world, chosen and damned. They preach a gospel of universal belonging, grounded in the experience of the Divine both within and beyond their walls. Many are deeply engaged in the work of social justice, ecological renewal, and healing the wounds inflicted by empire and exclusion. Their spirituality is sacramental and earthy, woven through with ritual and celebration, rooted in the land and in the cycles of the year.
These open and accepting churches are “other” in the eyes of empire. They are the ones who fit the dictionary’s old sense of “pagan, ” those whose religion is “other than the main or recognized sects.”
I understand why some call themselves Celtic Christians, and I respect that. For myself, I found the label too limiting, too easy for empire to twist into a story of blood and soil, race and heritage. I needed something wider, something that would honor my ancestors but not confine me to their boundaries.
But the core is clear: these are communities dedicated to making the world better; not just for themselves, but for everyone. They refuse to divide or conquer in Christ’s name. In a sense, they embody the open tent that Christopaganism ought to be. They welcome people of all backgrounds and paths, honoring diversity not as a threat but as a gift. They find the Divine not only in scripture and sacrament, but in trees and rivers, in art and music, in the honest struggles of daily life. Their table is long and their doors are wide open.
Such communities are not content to simply offer an alternative liturgy or theology; they seek to reweave the very fabric of what it means to be church. They are deeply ecumenical, often interfaith, and committed to weaving together insights from many traditions. Here, you might find a Celtic cross on the altar, but you will also find labyrinth walks, seasonal festivals, prayers to the four directions, and a sense of reverence for all creation. The “open and accepting” church is a living laboratory for what the Spirit might yet create, beyond the tired divisions of the past.
3. The Road Where Many Paths Converge
The third branch is where the word “Christopagan” is usually claimed out loud. Here walk the Christian Witches, Christian Druids, Christian Pagans; those of us who have learned to pray with Jesus and with Brigid, to walk with both saints and ancestors, to honor the Divine as a chorus of many voices and faces. For many of us, our spiritual lives are woven from rituals, tarot cards, runes, meditation, and the daily work of honoring land and lineage. We are not interested in building a new orthodoxy. We know the full truth is beyond any human’s reach.
My own path has been shaped by a lifetime in esoteric circles: praying to the Egyptian gods in the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, receiving visions from my ancestors, finding inspiration from Brigid. I do not say this to suggest I have it figured out. Quite the opposite: I am still learning, still listening, still wrestling with the koan that is “Christopagan.” I use the term for two reasons:
First, both Christ and the gods and heroes of my Irish ancestors shaped my faith.
Second, I need a name that stands in opposition to the imperial Christianity that has served empire, not liberation.
Practicing Druidry, Wicca, or Paganism is not at odds with anti-imperial Christianity. In fact, the ancient scriptures speak of the Divine Council; a great assembly of gods and spirits whose voices and presences shaped the world (see 1 Kings 22:19-23, Job 1:6; 2:1; 15:8; Psalm 82; Isaiah 6:1-9; Jeremiah 23:16-22). I have no trouble seeing the Tuatha Dé Danann as members of this Divine Council, or honoring the ancestors as participants in the work of the Spirit.
Jews and Christians have always called on other spirits for aid, whether saints, angels, or gods. Israelite religion was henotheistic, worshiping one supreme deity alongside many others; strict monotheism is a later development, and even now, is not universal among those who seek the sacred. Our tradition is far more pluralistic and open than empire wants us to believe.
If Christopaganism is to survive and thrive, it must be a decolonizing project; a living practice that does not cannibalize other mythologies or traditions to keep Christianity on life support. It must be rooted, above all, in love, humility, and justice. For me, that means drawing from the Christian mystics; Eriugena, Pelagius, Eckhart, and rebuilding faith from the ground up. It means living in the tension of apparent contradiction, trusting that truth is larger than any formula.
This path is not without its struggles. Many in the wider Pagan community view Jesus with suspicion or outright hostility, seeing his name as a symbol of oppression or erasure. I understand that pain.
I have seen forms of Christopaganism that felt appropriative or hollow. I pray my own practice does not echo those. What I offer here is not the final word, but a living path, shaped by Druidry, by Creation Spirituality, and by a heart seeking justice and awe. None of us will know the full truth about the nature of reality until we enter death. Until then, all we can do is work out our own understanding to the best of our ability, with humility and courage.
The Courage to Be: Living in Contradiction, Living in Truth
Let’s address the charge often made against paths like ours: that we are “cringe,” awkward, or simply trying too hard. Maybe. If embracing the Divine in all its forms, if seeking Christ alongside the old gods and the spirits of land and ancestor, is awkward, so be it. Maybe the world needs a bit more awkwardness; if it means being honest, inclusive, and open-hearted.
I believe in the One Life that flows through all things, the sacred presence that we name in many ways: gods, angels, saints, spirits. I do not claim to know for certain. None of us do. But I know what I have experienced, and I try to live in fidelity to the light I’ve been given. For me, Jesus is my ishta devata; my heart’s beloved. Alongside him, I honor Brigid, Lugh, Aengus, Caer Ibormeith, the Dagda, the Morrigan. None are diminished by this; all are revealed in their richness.
For those of us who walk this road, there is a deep courage required: the courage to claim a path that does not fit into easy categories, to remain true to the movements of Spirit in our lives, even when they lead us beyond the comfort of tribe or tradition. There is a risk of isolation, misunderstanding, or even rejection from both Christian and Pagan communities. But there is also a gift; a freedom to grow, to question, to bless and be blessed by a multitude of ancestors and allies.
This path is not about demanding conformity. It is a living path, a longing for justice and awe. It is about standing in the liminal spaces, finding God in the threshold, and refusing to abandon either love or wonder for the sake of belonging. I do not intend disrespect to the gods, nor to those who walk other ways. The only disrespect would be to claim certainty where only mystery can dwell.
Whatever Rises Must Be Free
I’m not here to dictate a new orthodoxy. The Imperial Church must fall. But what rises in its place is not for me to decide. That is for the people to discern together, in love and truth. The path forward is not about resurrecting a lost faith or founding a new religion. It is about weaving together decades of exploration, practice, and study, and sharing the path I’ve found for myself. I offer it to those who resonate with it; at the very least, I hope these reflections inspire you to begin or deepen your own journey.
We are not here to preserve a museum or canonize a single vision. The work is not to build a new empire, but to cultivate a garden where many faiths can flourish side by side. What rises from the ashes of empire must be rooted in freedom, justice, and love;never control, conquest, or fear. I hope to see more communities dedicated to exploration, mutual aid, creative ritual, and real-world transformation.
Christopaganism, as I see it, is not a destination but a process; a way of becoming. It calls us to continually unlearn, to notice where empire creeps in, to find new language, and to let go of certainty in favor of deeper listening. This journey is open-ended, and its fruits will be known by the healing, beauty, and liberation it brings to the world.
Christopaganism in Practice: Roots for the Journey
If you are drawn to this path, here are some guiding lights:
Practice compassion and justice. The empire judges; Christ forgives. Serve the poor, the brokenhearted, the marginalized; not as a means to salvation, but as the heart of the gospel. Practice radical hospitality, seeing the Divine in every guest and stranger.
Honor both tradition and experience. We are not the first to walk this way. Learn from mystics, saints, and druids, but also listen to your own soul and the world around you. Let your practices be shaped by both wisdom and direct encounter.
Live in right relationship. With the land, with your ancestors, with the Divine in all things. Let your spirituality be embodied, animistic, creative, and relational. Participate in rituals that honor the cycles of the year, the spirits of place, and the deeper flow of life.
Resist the call of empire. Whether it comes dressed as dogma, hierarchy, nationalism, or spiritual appropriation. Faith should set you free, not make you a pawn in someone else’s power game. Notice where old patterns of control and exclusion creep in, and gently uproot them.
Let theology be poetry. Don’t worry about being right. Seek the poetry that best explains your moment in history, your experience, your longing. Let your understanding evolve as you grow. Use story, song, and ritual as languages of soul.
Nurture community. Find or create small circles of belonging, whether in person or online. Share your journey with others who are likewise seeking. Celebrate together, grieve together, dream together. No one walks this path alone.
Embrace creativity and play. Let your practices be shaped by joy as much as by reverence. Make art, write prayers, invent rituals. The Divine is not afraid of our creativity; in fact, it is one of the oldest prayers.
Final Blessing
May we all have the courage to root ourselves in love, to reach out in compassion, and to grow beyond the boundaries empire would set for us. May we listen to the call of the living vine, and in every moment, remember: the Divine is wider, deeper, and wilder than any church, creed, or empire. The oak grows as it will. The grove welcomes all. The Spirit is still speaking.
May your path be blessed by mystery, your heart strengthened by community, your practice deepened by justice and wonder. If you are walking this path, or simply curious, I invite you to share your reflections, questions, or stories in the comments. The king-dom is not built alone; we are many branches, rooted in the same mysterious, life-giving soil.
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