For every pagan openly or defiantly wearing a pentacle, there is one who walks past you on the street, completely anonymous. While for some wearing such an obvious symbol of their faith is a pleasure and a responsibility, for others it is a choice made to protect themselves, their families, or for fear of misunderstanding. Where does one draw the line?

It's an interesting debate, and one that rages on all over pagandom. While paganism may be legally recognized almost everywhere, social and cultural recognition often lags far behind. Choosing to remain "in the broom closet" is often safer, but many feel the responsibility to educate those who would misunderstand, or to repossess a negative image with pride. These are the two extremes. What of the rest (perhaps most) in between these two poles?

The pentacle is perhaps the most traditional pagan symbol society knows, immediately recognizable and carrying several connotations, both positive and negative, to those who encounter it. It has been found in Sumerian and Egyptian astronomical records, and is one of the shapes proposed as the original Seal of Solomon (the other is the more often seen hexagram). It was Jerusalem's official seal between 300-1509 BCE. Pythagoreans in Greece used it as a symbol of harmony, of health and as a microcosm of the human body and mind. Early Christians used it to represent the five wounds of Christ. Most people today know little or none of this history. For modern pagans who choose to wear this symbol, it often represents the four elements surmounted by spirit, and as a symbol of protection. (Sad that a symbol of protection should often incite attack; but I digress.) Some wear it defiantly in an attempt to rebel against a society perceived as oppressive or to offend.

Like many others, I regard my pentacle (small, silver, plain) as a symbol of my personal commitment to the path I have chosen to follow. I also perceive it as a symbol of protection. As such, I have developed an odd attachment to it; if it has to come off for any period of time, I feel defenceless, almost naked, in a way. In this respect my beliefs have bestowed upon it talismanic powers which my rational mind may consider slightly foolish but which affect me nonetheless.

My pentacle is on a long chain, hidden beneath my clothes. I'm in no way ashamed of the pendant, or afraid of what might happen to me if I wore it displayed for all to see. I consider my faith a very personal thing. I don't discuss it with people, not do I rush to tell someone about my latest meditation; my religious life is between myself and my gods at this point in time, until I feel called to do otherwise.

And yet, in another way I do wish to communicate my chosen path to the world around me, to honour my gods by wearing a symbol openly, but I choose not to do it by using a symbol with so many negative connotations, however mistaken they may be. In a way, it's another personal thing. I have a tiny moon pendant hanging on a short chain, telling those in the know that I am a Goddess-worshipper without triggering all the negative associations.

It's not that I want to remain anonymous, or avoid all the effort required to educate the ignorant or genuinely curious. I am very proud of those who choose to wear pentacles openly and who have the patience to contend with the flak they receive; I admire them. Nor am I trying to deny or shed centuries of oppression; I identify with those persecuted as much as others do. I think it has more to do with my personal expression of faith than anything else. Stereotypes anger me, as does pigeonholing, and wearing a pentacle opens me to the possibility that I will be instantly classified without being considered further. Last spring I was in conversation with someone who I'd known for a couple of years, who began slighting pagans for their poseur reputation, for the futility of attempting to reconstruct religious beliefs dead for centuries, invalid in today's day and age. I listened quietly for a bit, then asked if he'd ever considered me a poseur. He looked at me in astonishment.

Granted, it all depends on your personality type, and I'll be the first to admit I'm the quiet sort. But to me, educating people in this manner gets the point across in a way that waving a pentacle in their face wouldn't have. I am pagan, but it is not my sole defining feature. Communicating my faith is more successful if those around me know and accept me for myself. When they discover my religious beliefs, they are more likely to listen to them and take them seriously because they come from someone they know and trust. My immediate circle of friends and my family know that I am pagan. In my opinion, even some of these don't need to know. Faith, for me, is a very private thing. While paganism is also a way of life, which I live to the best of my ability, it doesn't require shouting from rooftops to live that life. In fact, the more I live it, the more I come to believe that living it quietly is the right thing to do. There's a time and a place for crusading. My crusade might not seem as noble or as glorious as others' may, but it moves steadily on.

If you wear a pentacle, ask yourself why you do it. Is it to proclaim your faith? Is it an act of rebellion? Is it a talisman of protection? Do you do it to shock others? Perhaps it is time to re-evaluate how you express your faith. It might be time to throw open the broom closet with a grand gesture. Then again, perhaps your choice might be to rise each morning to greet the sun, to kiss your hand to the moon before you sleep each night, and live in quiet harmony with the earth's cycles. The choice is yours, and what is right for you today might not be right for you tomorrow.

Namaste.

(c)A. Murphy-Hiscock. Originally published in Montreal's Magickal Circle May 2000.