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Support
the addition of the Pentacle to the VA list of Emblems of
Belief -
This Circle
Sanctuary page has multiple links to
news on the issue of the US Departnet of Veterans Affairs
rejection of the Wiccan pentacle being incscribed on on the
government issued memorial markers/headstones/plaques for
deceased Wiccan veteran, and the present law suit against
this rejection. Update
- Nov 22, 2006 - re one Pentacle approved for
gravestone!!! Continue
to check Circle Sanctuary site for new updates on this issue.

IN
THE MILITARY - Pagan priest in Army found guilty
Wife of soldier: 'They can't burn us, so they shut us up'
March
30, 2005 WorldNetDaily.com
A pagan priest serving in the
U.S. Army has been sentenced to seven months jail after being
found guilty of willfully disobeying orders.
Specialist Blake Lemoine, 23, from Moraville, La., served
a year-long tour of duty in Iraq, but became an outspoken
critic of the action, and claims his religious practices were
a factor in the case against him.
"I realized the sermons I gave were in direct conflict
with what the United States military practices," Lemoine
said, according to Stars & Stripes.
>
Lemoine was court-martialed in Germany for refusing orders,
as he sought to leave the Army. Following
his service in Iraq, he would reportedly just sit at a desk
near the commander's office and refuse to do any work.
"It was simply a slow realization that serving in the
U.S. military at this day and time contradicts my religion
and to continue to do so would make me a hypocrite,"
he said.
Lemoine, a mechanic, had stopped working after sending a letter
to commanders listing the reasons he should be allowed to
quit, including his religious beliefs and rituals. The
Army rejected his argument, saying he didn't meet the requirements
as a conscientious objector.
His letter also pointed out he has a non-monogamous relationship
with his wife, and that he is bisexual, which is against Army
policy.
His wife, Alayna, told Stars & Stripes: "If we were
any other mainstream religion, the Army would not be doing
this. They
wouldn't do this to a Jew or Christian. It's
a vendetta against pagans. They
can't burn us, so they shut us up."
Many pagans in modern society are said to base their beliefs
and practices on a connection to nature.
Lemoine had been scheduled to be discharged Feb. 13, but military
rules required him to extend his service until mid-October
so he could bring his wife to Europe from the U.S.
"The contract with the U.S. Army is a slavery contract,"
Lemoine told German newspapers. He
also blasted alleged Army violence against Iraqis, stating,
"Iraqi civilians are often treated worse than animals."
In addition to the seven-month sentence, Judge Col. Denise
Lind also ordered Lemoine reduced to the lowest enlisted rank
and given a bad-conduct discharge.
Lemoine is said to be continuing a hunger strike for the Army's
refusal to let him out, and German peace activists are holding
protests on his behalf.

Military
casts Wicca in the shadows
As members serve their country, they also battle the military
to accept their faith
By Randy Myers CONTRA
COSTA TIMES Aug. 12, 2004
This story was corrected after publication. An
incident during of harassment of Wiccan military personnel
worshipping in Iraq has been removed since the Times has been
unable to substantiate that claim, and sources say the incident
probably never occurred.
When the U.S. military needed information on American Wiccan
servicemen and servicewomen, the Pentagon turned to Patrick
McCollum of Moraga.
The chaplain, a national expert on the earth-based Wicca religion,
conjured a little Wicca 101 for the troops.
Most Americans glean their Wicca knowledge from TV's "Buffy
the Vampire Slayer" or "Charmed," with their
witches and curses, good and evil. Wiccan
worship focuses on respect for the earth and its inhabitants
with a "do no harm" credo.
"Education is the single most powerful tool," in
dealing with misunderstandings in the military, McCollum said.
Wiccans represent a small fraction of the military, roughly
1,500 among 1.4 million active personnel, but the Pentagon
wants to accommodate their faith. The
military trains chaplains to meet the religious needs of all
service members without compromising their own religious beliefs,
said Col. Richard Hum, executive director of the Armed Forces
Chaplains Board at the Defense Department.
That's where McCollum and a few other Wiccans come in as on-call
Pentagon advisers. The
military has sought his advice three or four times since he
started after Sept. 11, 2001, he said. An
advisory team became a Pentagon priority when Wiccan military
personnel reported problems while conducting rites and religious
activities.
The Wiccans said that some chaplains were trying to convert
them and that commanding officers made it difficult to practice,
McCollum said.
Wiccans also have been pressuring the Department of Veterans
Affairs to allow a Wiccan emblem, most likely the pentacle,
for armed forces burial headstones or markers.
Mike Nacincik of Veterans Affairs, said the department authorizes
38 emblems, including one for atheists, but none for Wiccans.
The military should honor the beliefs of Wiccans asked to
fight and die to uphold freedom of speech and religion, McCollum
said.
"If these freedoms are taken away while they're defending
these values, it creates a paradox. "
Defending freedom is the essence of the military, said Col.
W. Randy Robnett, wing chaplain at Travis Air Force Base in
Fairfield.
"We provide for freedom of religion (in the military),"
he said.
"That's why we put the uniform on every day."
An extensive Internet network links McCollum with the faithful.
Paganism thrives in California, particularly in the Bay Area
and Los Angeles region, he said.
Wiccans exist in nearly all military branches, some in the
top ranks, he said.
The Air Force attracts the most, with 1,552 of enlisted personnel
identifying themselves as Wiccans, said Lt. Col. Ellen Krenke,
a Defense Department spokeswoman. The
Marine Corps has 68. The Navy doesn't report numbers, and
the Army lists no Wiccans, she said.
The Air Force recognized the religious categories of Pagan,
Gardnerian Wiccan, Seax Wiccan, Dianic Wiccan, Shaman and
Druid in 2000.
Many bases now have circles and hold services. Dog tags can
also identify a serviceperson as Wiccan.
Wiccans had their first chaplain-service in 1997 at the Army's
Fort Hood in Texas.
At Travis, Wiccan lay leader and high priest Loye Pourner
estimates that 60 Wiccans are among the nearly 11,300 enlisted
men and women there.
"Those numbers are way low," he said. "One
of the difficulties in federal, state and military institutions
is that they say they want to know so they can ... help us"
but discriminate against those who admit to being pagans.
Pourner began holding weekly informational meetings at Travis
in 1996. The
recently retired technical sergeant is lay leader for the
roughly 15-member Travis Earth Circle. They
observe eight sacred cycles of the year, called sabbats.
Practicing Wicca overseas can be challenging, especially in
the desert, Pourner said. The
Air Force sent him to Qatar days after the Sept. 11 attacks.
He
used birthday candles and his canteen cup for religious rites.
He and four other Wiccans celebrated Halloween - Samhan -
in Qatar. Members of the 45-member troop respected their faith.
During intense times, nearly everyone banded together and
sought spiritual support from Pourner.
"We prayed nightly to any divine being that we wouldn't
get attacked," he said.
The Department of Veterans Affairs has so far refused to allow
a Wiccan emblem on the headstones or markers of soldiers.
Other
relatively obscure religions have the privilege, including
Eckankar and the Church of World Messianity.
Wiccans don't meet the emblem requirements, said Nacincik.
The department's bureaucratic hurdles include a written request
from the recognized head of the organization, a list of national
officers and a membership tally.
The VA demands are impossible, McCollum said: Wiccans have
no hierarchy or governing board for the religion's numerous
sects.
"If they submit the proper information that is required
then we'll go ahead and consider them," Nacincik said.
"That answer is canned government-speak," said McCollum.
Pourner said he has e-mailed requests to Veterans Affairs
and never heard a reply.
"We have had requests about the process, but no one has
followed through on it," Nacincik said.
That vexes McCollum.
"It doesn't appear to me that the Veterans Affairs has
any burning desire to make this happen. "The
Veterans (Affairs), above all people, should be fighting for
each and every one of these men and women who have given their
lives for their country."
Reach Randy Myers at rmyers@cctimes.com or 925-977-8419
The primary tenets of Wicca,
as expressed by Patrick McCollum, include:
WICCA BELIEFS
o "Honoring all paths and people."
o "That all people are equal."
o "That Earth, our universe and everything around us,
is sacred."
o "Harming no one."
o "The three-fold law. How we act both with each other
and the world will be directly reflected back on us."
WICCAN SYMBOLS
o THE PENTACLE: The five-pointed star in a circle is the symbol
most often associated with Wicca. Four points represent elements,
the topmost the spirit.
o THE CIRCLE: A sacred space that can be drawn nearly anywhere.
It keeps out unwelcome energy and represents the equivalent
of a congregation.
o THE COVEN: A group of Wiccans who regularly meet to participate
in the rites, magic, study and celebration of the religion.
Not all Wiccans are part of a coven; some practice by themselves.

Chapel
that embraces all creeds - Simple cubicle provides place to
pray at sea - By M.L.
LYKE
Tuesday,
March 18, 2003-
SEATTLE POST-INTELLIGENCER
REPORTER ABOARD THE USS ABRAHAM LINCOLN IN THE PERSIAN GULF
-- Steam pipes crawl the walls of the room, painted an institutional
beige. The
fighter jets that screech off deck directly overhead continually
rattle the screws loose in the ceiling, and deafen conversations
about saints and sinners, prophets and pagans.
It is here, on folding metal
chairs, that shipmates utter private secrets and confessions,
gather in Wicca circles for meditation, study Bible verses,
offer up devout prayers to Allah, work their rosary beads,
celebrate the Jewish Sabbath.
This metal cubicle is the ship's
chapel, a Heinz 57 worship center that undergoes more daily
changes than a New York model.
It's not fancy, but on a ship where full-immersion baptisms
are conducted in scrubbed-out engine compartments, it works
as a home base for Navy men and women navigating uncharted
spiritual seas.
"I come for the good vibes,"
says intelligence specialist Brad Riddle, a 21-year-old from
Puyallup who joined the ship's 32-member Wicca group, one
of the largest in the U.S. Navy.
The number of worshippers aboard
has swelled since the Lincoln, steaming for its Everett home
port, did a Jan. 1 turnaround toward the Persian Gulf.
"Our services have gone up at
least 25 percent since the turnaround," says chief religious
program specialist Rich Kleiner, who wears his "Mickey Mouse"
mufflers to blot out the endless hammering of planes on deck.
Those numbers could swell even
more if air strikes begin, and casualties result.
Decor inside the chapel -- open
24 hours for the dozens of daily services, study groups and
individual meditations -- is simple. The
altar is kept deliberately neutral, ready for symbolic transformation
by Roman Catholic crucifix or Jewish ram's horn, incense or
candle.
Every religion is accommodated.
It's
Navy policy.
"I make sure the Wiccans have
as much time as the most fundamentalist Christians," says
head chaplain Robert Marshall, one of five chaplains on board.
"If
you came up to me and said, 'I'm an atheist. I need some space
for myself'-- I'd make sure you find some space in the chapel."
Marshall, from Olalla, Wash.,
calls the all-purpose multicultural chapel a "microcosm of
Seattle."
At any given moment of the day,
a peek through the room's miniature porthole may reveal a
Catholic Mass, a Hebrew reading class, a Protestant Communion,
a Latter-day Saints worship session, or choir practice for
the Upper Room Fellowship choir.
The last is a Gospel group that
performs Sundays in the ship's foc'sle, next to behemoth 308,000-pound
anchor chains that look as if they belong in a medieval torture
chamber for giants.
The choir inevitably sets the
congregation clapping, swaying and singing the praises of
the Lord, the celebrants' voices vibrating over the continual
rumble of the ship's engines. Layman
preacher Ivan Phillips, a St. Louis petty officer in radio
central, exhorts worshippers to feel the joy and mortify the
flesh.
"That flesh is no good. That
flesh is not holy. Amen.
"That flesh is a terrible thing. It's forbidding you from
doing all the things God has for you. Amen.
"Say, kill that flesh off!"Kill that flesh off! Amen!"
The ambiance of the chapel is
make-do churchy.
Large light boxes with phony stained-glass windows hang from
the walls. A
U.S. flag stands in one corner, next to a peace scroll with
olive branch and dove. Inside
a metal closet, in a nod to acceptance that escapes the outer
world, Muslim prayer rugs and copies of the Quran are stored
opposite Jewish prayer shawls, menorahs, the Torah.
It was a Jew, Kleiner, who persuaded
a Muslim, Naveed Muhammad, to lead his own worship service
in the chapel.
Muhammad, a 20-year-old electrician's fireman born in Pakistan,
says he was startled at the invitation.
"I said, 'Wait a minute! Aren't
you Jewish?' I
have to admit, I was a bit prejudiced."
The Detroit seaman, one of three
Muslims attending the services, says: "All my life, I have
been taught that the Jewish hate the Muslims. Now
here's a chief who wants to help me out."
Muhammad's leading petty officer
also came to his aid. When
he saw the slight young man performing calls to prayer in
the shop, he cut out one of the lockers, smoothed it with
a sander, painted it and told Muhammad: "OK, that's your space.
No
one will bother you."
Muhammad's toughest challenge
was not answering shipmates' questions about Islam, but deciding
how to turn his prayer rug toward Mecca. The
ship is continually shifting directions.
"I asked an imam in Detroit
about what I should do," says Muhammad. "He
said not to worry.
He said that all Allah looks for is that you are trying --
that he's not picky like us humans."
Both Muhammad and Kleiner, a
reservist who's a social case worker in Colorado, find shipmates
more tolerant of different religions than civilians in the
outside world.
"Here, nobody is against you
-- even though we're on the verge of war.
I haven't been harassed by anyone,"
says Muhammad.
Surprisingly, it is the Wiccans,
not the Muslims, who've taken the most flak.
Sanna Masanz, a 26-year-old
from Louisiana who works in ship's supply, is the lay leader
of the Wiccan group. She
says some religious groups have felt a need to "cleanse" the
room after they meet.
"They say, 'Make sure you don't
leave anything bad' -- like we're using skeleton bones and
ashes and frog warts to cast spells in here.
"I have to explain to people
that Wicca is not what you see in movies, or read in books."
Patrick Dranchak, a 23-year-old
reactor mechanic with a beatific smile, says he made a small
clay energy gremlin and set it on a pipe in his reactor shop.
"One
of the Bible thumpers said, 'You can't do that' and squished
it and broke it."
The Wiccans meet in the chapel
on Saturday nights, after "checking their negative energy
in at the door." They
move the metal chairs to make a circle on the floor.
On the altar, one lights sticks of incense and four candles,
to represent earth, air, fire and water.
The stereo plays a track mixing sounds of classical strings
with the howls of wolves.
The practitioners bring their
symbols and tools. There
are books ("The Complete Book of Witchcraft," "Living Wicca"),
tarot cards, stones (crystals and hematite, tiger's eye and
malachite), necklaces with ancient Celtic knots and pentacles.
As Dranchak begins a guided
meditation, eyes close on the faces of 20 young shipmates.
With each deep, slow breath,
they suck in the ship's peculiar air of human funk and kerosene.
"Let everything slip away, flow
away," says the leader.
"Deep down, focus a point of energy in yourself. Slowly let
it grow, push it outward.
"Let it fill your entire body, fill your skin, cover your
skin, your entire body."
The chapel suddenly seems quiet,
despite the thunder of the jets overhead.
Up there, the world may be on the verge of war.
Down here, in this chapel, for a moment, there is inner peace.
P-I reporter M.L. Lyke c P-I
reporter M.L. Lyke can be reached at abelincoln@seattlepi.com
Pagan
movement in U.S. military
- December 4, 2002 - Agence France-Presse
Lance Aeschliman
is a soldier and a pagan, something that makes his commander-in-chief
uncomfortable.
"I do not think
witchcraft is a religion, and I do not think it is in any
way appropriate for the US military to promote it," President
George W. Bush said in October 2000 when campaigning in the
US presidential election. According
to his dog tags, Aeschliman is actually a Druid, although
there are a fair amount of witches in the US military as well.
Small groups
of witches, Druids, Shamans and Wiccans make up the more than
10,000 estimated pagans in the US armed forces, according
to the Military Pagan Network, a support group.
More ... http://asia.news.yahoo.com/021122/afp/021122074316top.html

U.S.
Rep. Decries Paganism in Military
(from an article by
Heather Burke) – Columbia
News Service (no longer available)
Although the
military does not recognize any religion, it accommodates
neo-Pagan worship. The
nation's largest army base, Fort Hood, near Killeen, Tex.,
became the first U.S. military base to provide space for neo-Pagan
rituals. In
1997, Fort Hood's leadership allowed the Sacred Well Congregation,
a San Antonio group, to sponsor a Wiccan circle.
To receive accommodation,
an army base requires a religious body to assume responsibility
for the group's conduct and appoint a lay leader, said Dr.
David Oringderff, a retired army major and leader of Sacred
Well. This
accommodation allowed the circle's 300 base members to use
base facilities to hold ritual celebrations.
In 1999, then-U.S.
Representative Bob Barr (R-Ga.) and leaders of several conservative
Christian groups called on Fort Hood to stop permitting Wiccans
to practice on military bases. Barr
said witchcraft disrespects the military way of life and "esprit
de corps."
"Military officers
and personnel building bonfires on military bases, dressing
up in outlandish costumes and jumping over bonfires on military
bases, presents a laughable image of the military," he said.
Sacred Well
currently sponsors 23 circles on military bases worldwide.
Oringderff, who listed "Wiccan" on his dog tags for 15 years,
said about 40 percent of Sacred Well's 1,200 members worldwide
are active duty military. While
the military has no neo-Pagan chaplains, Oringderff said Sacred
Well has four Wiccan leaders serving overseas in Iraq and
Afghanistan.
The federal
government has recognized Wicca as a religion protected under
the First Amendment in several court cases, such as Dettmer
vs. Landon from the mid-1980s.
Barr said he
doesn't think neo-Paganism should not have constitutional
protection. "It
seriously dilutes the meaning and value of the First Amendment
to put these practices on a par with the great religions of
the world," he said.

Witches
able to worship on U.S. military bases –
Fundamentalists demand end to moonlight rituals -
by John Boudreau (Full
story at The
Witches League for Public Awareness)
July 26, 1999, San Jose Mercury News
In today's military,
witches can be all they want to be.
At bases across
the country, Wiccans are coming out of their secret covens
-- with the blessing of the Department of Defense. They
wear pentagram pendants underneath their spit-and-polish camouflage
fatigues. They
practice candle magic and meditation when off duty. They
attend on-base circle rituals, the Wiccan equivalent of a
Mass.
"The base provided
us with what we wanted -- equality,'' said Staff Sgt. Loye
Pourner, a high priest, military lean and ramrod straight,
and leader of the Travis Air Force Base circle. "We
didn't want special treatment. We
wanted exactly what everybody else had.''
…But trouble
is brewing in this pagan paradise.
Some Christian
fundamentalist leaders and some lawmakers, after learning
of moonlight rituals at Fort Hood, Texas -- America's largest
military post -- are demanding an end to what they say is
satanism in the barracks. The
military, though, is not standing down: It defends the right
of those practicing ``minority'' religions to worship on bases,
just like Christians, Jews and Muslims.

Article
in Time Magazine – I
Saluted a Witch
by S.C. Gwynne/Killeen, July 5, 1999
The high priestess
lifts her arms to the crescent moon, her bright silver pentagrams
shimmering in the light of a burning cauldron. About
her stand hooded figures, some with long forked staffs bearing
stag horns and hawk feathers, animal skins and other talismans. "Circle
of power," she chants, "I conjure thee to ban such things
as named by me... Attract such things as named by me... Be
cleansed of all impurity... So mote it be. " Surrounded
by swarms of mosquitoes, the others chant back in litany,
"So mote it be."
The ceremony
is a "moon ritual," and the 20 people who gathered two weeks
ago in this meadow in the middle of Texas believe it will
change the world, if ever so slightly. That
is because they are witches, and what they are doing in this
incantatory rite is casting spells, in this case for "tolerance
and understanding." And
while card-carrying witches might seem remarkable enough,
these are more exotic still. They
are Army witches: colonels and sergeants and captains and
privates. They
belong to a group of 50 or so kindred spirits who assemble
regularly at Fort Hood, the largest U.S. military base, in
Killeen. They
are, in fact, part of a boomlet in the armed forces of believers
who call themselves Wiccans and follow a polytheistic, nature-based
religion that centers on an earth goddess. Since
Fort Hood gave official recognition to the Wiccans more than
two years ago, four more military bases have sanctioned the
religion.
Few people outside
the base knew the Army had approved such a group until a couple
of months ago, when a photo of a torchlight ritual appeared
in a local paper. As
word spread, Christian groups and politicians denounced the
Wiccans as both satanic and inappropriate in the U.S. Army. Eleven
religious organizations called on Christians not to enlist
or re-enlist until the Army stops supporting witchcraft. "What's
next?" asked Republican Congressman Bob Barr in a letter to
Fort Hood's commander. "Will
armored divisions be forced to travel with sacrificial animals
for satanic rituals?" G.O.P.
Senator Strom Thurmond vowed to introduce legislation to stop
the armed forces from condoning witchcraft. The
Army shrugs at such complaints, saying it has no plans to
shut down "minority religions" "This
belief is protected under the First Amendment," says Major
General William Dendinger, chairman of the Armed Forces Chaplains
Board. In
any case, as he points out, "very few members of the military
practice these beliefs."
In Killeen,
Christians howl in protest. "We
believe they are satanic and that they do not deserve to have
any place at Fort Hood," says the Rev. Jack Harvey of the
local Tabernacle Baptist Church, which sponsored a letter-writing
campaign against the Wiccans. "Eighty
percent of my congregation is military, and they are appalled
by it."
Actually, Wiccans
say they profess no satanism at all. Their
paganism is drawn from pre-Christian European tribal religions
that invoke spirits in nature and celebrate the seasons. They
do not sacrifice animals or cast evil spells. Ron and Marie
Smith, recently retired Army colonels, became Wiccans after
having tried the Episcopal Church and Seventh-Day Adventism. "I
was raised in the country, and in church I always felt enclosed,"
says Ron, 53, who is now a registered nurse, as is his wife. "I
feel close to God in nature." Ron
and Marie say they have paid a price for their beliefs. "We
have had persistent threats against me and my wife," says
Ron. "People
have told us they will beat us up." Says Fort Hood high priestess
Marcy Palmer: "I get threats on e-mail and calls threatening
me at least twice a week."
While their
beliefs and practices may be gentle at heart, their symbolism
makes it fairly easy to demonize them. Besides
calling themselves witches, they often prefer to conduct their
rituals naked (Fort Hood has forbidden them to do so), use
9-in. daggers called athames in their ceremonies, cast magic
spells, and worship, among others, "the horned god" found
in pagan traditions. Wiccans
are also pacifists, but believe that your actions come back
to you threefold and are prepared to accept the consequences
of what they do as soldiers. That
the Army would be so progressive in its acceptance makes perfect
sense to the Wiccans. "The
Army has always been ahead of the civilian world on things
like racial and sexual equality," says high priestess Palmer,
a former military policewoman. "They're
just a lot more tolerant. When
you're in a foxhole, you don't care what religion the guy
next to you belongs to." Army
witches even have a sense of humor. At
Halloween, Palmer turns her home, where she keeps a pet wolf
named Spirit, into a haunted house for trick-or-treaters. "What
could be better," she says, "than a haunted house with real
witches and a wolf that howls on command?"

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