A YEAR OF DRUID VALUES:
SHARING HOSPITALITY

By Rev. Michael McGuinness, Druid of the Fellowship

In my previous article, the first in a continuing exploration of characteristic values found in the Gaelic mythological tradition, I highlighted the idea that our Ancestors prized balance as a foundation for successful living. The Instructions of Cormac, a piece of wisdom literature connected with the Fenian cycle, expressed this conception of balance as a middle way between opposite extremes such as strength and gentleness, talking and listening, self-confidence and humility.

Another important value to our Ancestors seems to have been hospitality, which was a sacred duty enshrined in Gaelic law, mythology and custom. This reverence for hospitality was widespread throughout the Indo-European cultural continuum.

Ceisiwr Serith, the Indo-European Reconstructionist, has written extensively of the *ghosti principle, a proto-IE term that is at the root of our English words for both guest and host. *Ghosti describes an IE concept of ritual as a shared meal with the Gods, still seen today not only in our FoDLA rituals but also in the daily ritual ceremonies of Hindu householders and the Eucharistic sacrifice of the Catholic Mass.

In this way of thinking, ritual constitutes an exchange of offerings and blessings that creates a mutually beneficial relationship between the Gods and the People, similar to the exchange of services and obligations between the members of society. Thus, hospitality was seen both as the glue which bound civilization together, and also the process that connected the human with the divine.

The Brehon Laws, the native legal code of the Irish, passed on orally from ancient times and written down during the transition to Christianity, made hospitality a national institution. According to Irish historian P.W. Joyce in A Smaller Social History of Ireland, a chieftain was obligated to entertain any guest without questioning his name or business, and was forbidden to harm him in any way. The Brehon Laws also directed that a brughfer (brugh-hostel or house; fer-man) be installed in every kingdom in Ireland. The brughfer was a public official charged with maintaining a guest house for travelers (free of charge), and who was required to constantly keep a cauldron full of boiling meat for guests on a perpetually lit kitchen fire.

In Gods and Fighting Men, Lady Augusta Gregory relates several old tales that demonstrate the importance of hospitality to the ancient Irish. Hospitality (or the lack thereof) was one of the major causes of the Second Battle of Moytura, in which the Tuatha De Danann rebelled against the tyranny of Bres (the king at that time) and the Fomorians:

There came a day at last when a poet came to look for hospitality at [Bres] the king's house: Corpre, son of Etain, poet of the Tuatha De Danaan. And [this] is how he was treated: he was put in a little dark narrow house where there was no fire, or furniture, or bed; and a feast of three small cakes, and they dry, were brought to him on little dish. When he rose up on the morrow he was no way thankful, and as he was going across the green, [this] is what he said: “Without food ready on a dish; without milk enough for a calf to grow, without shelter, without light in the darkness of night; without enough to pay a story-teller; may that be the prosperity of Bres.”

And from that day there was no good luck with Bres, but it is going down he was for ever after. And that was the first satire ever made in Ireland.

The Fenian Cycle gives us another example. After the Battle of Gabhra which destroyed the Fianna, Fionn’s son Oisin, having returned from Tir na nOg and living in the house of St. Patrick, praises the generosity of his father:

Fionn never refused any man; he never put away any one that came to his house. If the brown leaves falling in the woods were gold, if the white waves were silver, Fionn would have given away the whole of it.

In another tale, King Cormac Mac Art follows his wife and children to the otherworldly Land of Promise after they are abducted by Manannan Mac Lir, the King of the Sidhe. During his journey he sees many mystifying things. He witnesses a troop of fairy horsemen thatching a roof with feathers that are blown away by the wind as soon as they finish, as well as a man kindling a fire that immediately consumes the wood as soon as he throws it in. At the end of his adventure, Cormac is reunited with his family and Manannan explains to him the puzzling visions he has seen:

“And the Riders you saw thatching the house,” he said, “are the men of arts and poets, and all that look for a fortune in Ireland, putting together cattle and riches. For when they go out, all that they leave in their houses goes to nothing, and so they go on for ever.

“And the man you saw kindling the fire,” he said, “is a young lord that is more liberal than he can afford, and every one else is served while he is getting the feast ready, and every one else profiting by it.”

Cormac’s tale (perhaps appropriately, if we remember his Instructions in my previous article) seems to suggest a more balanced idea of generosity than Oisin’s description of Fionn. We might infer from it that hospitality consists neither in holding too tightly to money or possessions which are subject to the vagaries of fortune (thatching your roof with feathers) nor in giving everything away to others (trying to feed an all-consuming fire).  

I imagine we can all see aspects of ourselves in these tales. Some of us find it difficult to give to others, and some of us find it difficult not to give too much. Still others have trouble accepting the generosity of other people, and there are even those who find it hard to believe that the Gods can sometimes answer our prayers in unexpected ways. (This is a lovely gift horse, thanks, but I think it has crooked teeth…) Again, balance is probably a helpful thing to keep in mind.

But, just as hospitality was sacred to our Ancestors, it is also, for members of FoDLA, an essential element of our practice as one of our Three Commitments (the others being the commitments to study and to piety). How can we make that commitment to hospitality a greater part of our lives?

For myself, these tales remind me that the concept of hospitality challenges me to be an active participant in improving my own life, and, when appropriate, the lives of others. I bring different personal talents and weaknesses (or assets and liabilities, to speak in financial terms) to various situations and relationships; sometimes I can make a positive contribution, or else I can be grateful for someone else’s help. I can give money or time, I can make someone laugh, I can offer somebody a ride or a cup of tea, or I can just quietly say “thank you” when a friend (or stranger) helps me do something I’m having trouble with. Sometimes the most generous thing to do is to allow someone else the joy and accomplishment of solving their own problem.

My commitment to hospitality also reminds me to participate in my spiritual relationships with the Gods and Ancestors, not just because it is part of my daily vows, but because of how impoverished I feel when I neglect my prayers and offerings. And since nature always gives so generously to us, hospitality urges me to give back to the Land in some way, such as recycling, tending to a garden or a local park or perhaps helping out at an animal shelter or sanctuary.

Bealtaine, when we celebrate the beginning of Summer and the blossoming fruits of the Land, seems like a perfect time to remember the ancient value of hospitality. Life is, after all, a cycle of giving and receiving, and the whole process is more fun if we throw ourselves into it willingly. May we all enjoy the blessings, the joys and, especially, the hospitality of the season.