A sermon by Choirmaster, given at First Church of the Morningstar, July 2020.

Hails and salutations, Morningstar! Choirmaster here. Friends, I’m a dog person. Always have been. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with cats, not to say that being a dog person excludes one from also being a cat person either, switches are valid. Also, in fairness, I never grew up around cats. My mom is allergic to them, and I had one friend from elementary whose cat was kind of an asshole. I never had the experience of making a deep, personal bond with a cat until years later. And even now I still can’t say I’m entirely chill with cats because, and this is only my lack of familiarity (yes, familiar, that was a pun,) but I find them impossible to read. There’s just something a little dodgy about a creature that might dig its claws in you because it likes you, y’know?

No, no, I didn’t write an entire sermon just to diss on the kitties. Cats are very, very good. But through and through, I am a dog person. My loyalty is to the puppers, because their loyalty is to me. Loyalty is a treasured thing. I still hold my identity with House Hufflepuff, despite the term coming from a mysterious book with no author. Truly the immaculate conception of young adult fiction. For each of my Morningstar sermons I try to establish a central theme, and let vernacular chaos ensue from there. For instance, my last sermon was all about words. This sermon is all about loyalty. But let’s not rush. We’ll get there.

Dogs. Dogs are just the best. They’re definitely more high maintenance than cats, but that’s something I empathize with, being a bit more high maintenance than the average person myself. But you know me, I don’t do average. I try to go the other way if I can help it, certainly since I met you fine heathens. Me and ordinary, we never really clicked.

But the dogs figured all that stuff out, friends! They threw out the concept of mundanity altogether! How? By approaching everything, every little thing no matter how common, with unadulterated and unabashed warmth, joy, and fascination. They say “every dog has its day,” but the truth is that every dog has every day, because every day is the Best Day Ever! Every trip to the park is Mardi Gras. Every car ride goes to the Moon. Every meal you give them saves their life. Every move, noise, and smell you make is a phenomenon. I’ve met dogs with one eye, dogs with no teeth, dogs with three legs, dogs with two legs, it makes no difference. They still take every thing they’re given (and sometimes stolen) with full enthusiasm, full gratitude, full love.

My dogs growing up were Brandy and Smokey. They’re both collies, which is the same breed as one of America’s first famous TV dogs, Lassie. Though Lassie was a long haired “rough coat” collie, and these two meatballs are short haired “smooth coat” collies. Collies can actually come in three different colorations as well as the two styles of coat, with different variants all able to appear in the same litter. In fact, Brandy is Smokey’s great uncle! Cool science.

We got Smokey when Brandy was around eight years old and had begun to show signs of age. We decided a new addition to the family would keep Brandy active, keep him from slowing down for a few more years yet. Also I was thirteen at the time and I just had my bar mitzvah, so it was time for me to man up and prove I could be responsible for a puppy. Yes we are very cute, thank you for noticing. Smokey is still alive and well today, although sadly he now lives with the breeder upstate. When I moved out of my mother’s house, it became impossible for her to take care of him on her own. That’s a whole can of worms that I… frankly can’t unpack right now, so today’s sermon is all about Brandy.

Brandy was truly the best dog in the world. He was the biggest and the fastest out of all my friends’ companions, with strong, sharp features that earned him the nickname “the hunter dog.” He was not the cleverest of creatures, unlike Smokey who was a little mischief maker. But what Brandy lacked in intelligence, he made up for twofold in fierce, earnest loyalty. He would fall for the old “fake-out throw” gag at the park ten times in a row, and never be the least bit annoyed or discouraged for the eleventh. And then when you did throw… see, collies are a shepherding breed, not retrieving. When that ball or stick was flying, the hunter dog was on the tear not an inch behind. However, once it hit the ground, he wouldn’t bring it back to you. The runaway little lamb had broken loose, and he chased it down until it stopped running. That’s a job well done for a shepherd.

“Uhh, Choirmaster, that’s all very sweet, but this isn’t exactly the most hardcore Satanic liturgy I’ve ever heard…” Hey shut the fuck up! I’m getting to that! Ugh. Rude.

Now where were we? Oh, right, speaking of shepherding, this was our favorite way to mess with Brandy: The only place he loved more than the park was the beach. We’d be playing at the bayside at Crissy Field or Land’s End, and my brother and I would wade into the surf going two opposite directions. And poor Brandy wouldn’t know what to do. He’d stand frozen in the middle, eyes frantic, hackles raised, legs locked and petrified, neck snapping between looking at me, my brother, and whichever parent was present, unable to fathom how they could possibly sit there laughing as he considered which of his two boys he could save. Like I said, not-so-much clever, but fiercely loyal.

Many of you know the origins of this sermon, which is when Pastor Johnny informed us a week ago that the Zohar’s online resource, zohar.com, has been revamped. The Zohar, Hebrew for “radiance,” is the seminal text of Kabbalah, the more mystical study of Judaism. You’ll recall I mentioned my bar mitzvah earlier. I was born and raised Jewish, both sides of the family. I went to a Jewish day school from Kindergarten to Eight Grade, with Hebrew language to boot. Check this out: it’s my school journal. This is the year 2000, and I was in First Grade. I read the scroll, learned all the myths, sang all the verses. And now that I’m a Satanist and pagan witch, I am categorically an oathbreaker; a warlock.

The five books of the Torah are just the first in the full biblical anthology of Judaism, the canon in its entirety called the Talmud. I was taught as early as Kindergarten that the Talmud is not just meant to be read and recited but critically studied and interpreted down the generations. This deep analysis and commentary is called Midrash, and it is considered an intractable, sacred part of Jewish practice. However, even in that living tradition, the Zohar’s more esoteric, goetic, left-handed approach is seen as extravagant and blasphemous. From the Jewish Encyclopedia, I quote, “On the other hand, the Zohar was censured by many rabbis because it propagated many superstitious beliefs, and produced a host of mystical dreamers, whose overexcited imaginations peopled the world with spirits, demons, and all kinds of good and bad influences.” Even those Talmudic scholars who don’t see Kabbalah as downright heretical believe the Zohar should not be read before the age of forty for the sheer complexity of its cosmogony. But you know me, “overexcited dreamer under bad influence” is my middle name! So upon checking out the new website for myself, I was immediately drawn to an entry called Baladan (dog.)

The passage begins talking about not a dog, but a lion. “The sins caused him (we never find out who “he” is by the way) to go down to the lower levels and slay the lion….” But he doesn’t actually slay the lion. He just denies it food, so “it is as though he killed it… In front of the eyes of the Other, Evil Side. And because the Other Side saw this, it gained courage and sent a dog to eat the offerings, above the altar, instead of the lion…. And what is the name of that lion? Oriel is its name, as he had the face of a lion. And what is the name of that dog? Baladan is its name.” And describes how the name Baladan comes from the Hebrew bal adam, literally means “not Adam.” Not a human. The passage concludes, and this absolutely slays me, “And it is not a human being, but a dog with the face of a dog.” Truly Baladan is a beast of mythical splendor rivaling the manticore or hippogriff. Lion with the head of an eagle? Nah, fam, we’ve got a dog… with the face of a dog! So majestic.

That breakdown of the name and aspect is typical in analysis of Hebrew texts. The lion, Oriel, I didn’t even have to look that one up. Light of God. Those words came up a lot in the prayer books, you would imagine. Lions are everywhere in Judaism. They’re obviously Yahweh’s favorite animal. My school’s mascot was a lion. Of the Twelve sons of Prophet Jacob, whose lineages became the Twelve Tribes of Israel, Judah’s banner was a lion. It’s believed King David was of Judah’s tribe, and the territory of Israel bequeathed to him (because that was something that Yahweh just straight up told Jacob he could do, despite there being people already living there and they’d have to go to war with them) included Bethlehem. And that brings us into lions in Christianity, which is its own kettle of fish. I mean we all read, or definitely saw, The Chronicles of Narnia, right? Yahweh, clearly a cat person. All the more reason I’m a dog person.

Ok, you know what the verses of Baladan and Oriel remind me of? This comic. Not for puppies. These tributes were set out on an altar by Yahweh’s devotees to feel His precious feline. But as it is written, “the Other Side saw this, and gained courage.” Baladan, the Goodest Boy of Team Evil, sees food unguarded and does what doggies do. As the meme goes, it’s free real estate. Which reminds me of something Brandy did once with a whole steak. Needled that big, long snoot of his over the kitchen counter and yoink! Not for puppies? Not anymore!

Part of the reason I brought up the territories divided among the Twelve Tribes of Israel is that a small but important wedge containing Jerusalem and Jericho was bequeathed to Jacob’s youngest son, Benjamin. Benjamin, whose tribe’s banner was a wolf by the way, was always treated as the baby in the many the Twelve Brothers stories. The most iconic being when Joseph, Benjamin’s only brother of the same mother, the coat of many colors guy, planted a silver cup in Benjamin’s bag. The punishment for thievery was enslavement. This was a test of faith…

Oh the tests of faith. Yahweh’s favorite power play. His trump card, if you will. Anyone could be threatened with slavery, torture, or death, as long as it was a test of faith. Yahweh’s not the bad guy here, it’s not His fault if you fail. He’s not evil, not a narcissistic, sadistic sociopath at all. He doesn’t want to have to punish His children, oh no! But too bad, your devotion just wasn’t strong enough. Shoulda prayed harder, asshole, byeee! Shoulda been a Good Boy! A testament of mortal submission to the Ultimate. Loyalty! This sermon is all about loyalty.

The judgement cup was a test of faith to see which, if any, of Benjamin’s half-brothers would be willing to step in and serve his wrongful sentence, giving up their own freedom for Benjamin’s. Which is pretty fucked up for Benny Boy. Banner of the wolf? In his own myth, Benjamin wasn’t the hunter dog of the story. He wasn’t even the lamb. He was the bait. He had no say in neither the imposition of this trial, nor its outcome. Zero agency, zero control, just the innocent baby brother. Shit, why does that cut me so deep?

Wait a tick! That’s my name! If you’ll allow me one more nomenclature breakdown here: Benjamin, bin yamin, is Hebrew for “son of my right hand.” Righthand. Not lefthand. And it could have been much worse. His mother Rachel died in agonizing labor delivering him, her last words calling the child ben oni, “son of my pain.”

I sometimes have moments of doubt, as I learn how sorcery and magecraft works as a practice, about using these frameworks that are rooted in Yahweh’s cosmogony. You know the adage, “the master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house.” The Kabbalah, Gematria, their correspondence with the tarot: They’re written in a language I can read, and still know every letter of, because they taught me through affirmations and devotionals I made to Him through my whole childhood. And I believed them. I’m not loyal. I’m Brandy at the beach, torn between two opposite sides. Penitence is in my nature, it’s my breeding. I’m the son of the right hand. God-fearing, idol-smashing, self-humbling, faith-testing, son-sacrificing monotheism isn’t just the oath of my adolescence. It’s my legacy, dare I say the birthright (vurp) of my own name.

Fuck all that! That’s not my name! I say hail to Choirmaster of First Church of the Morningstar. A name to call the thunder and rain! Hail witch, warlock, profaner, diabolist. And I fucking love Satan. I love being a Satanist. This power I’ve found with all of you. That I’ve found with, what was it, “mystical dreamers, spirits, demons, all kinds of good and bad influences?” And best of all, the power I’ve found in pride and love of myself.

I say I am God, Satan is Lord, and yOU, tYRANT! tHOU art not great, tHOU art weak and small! tHOU art base! Here I spell tHY nAME not in UpperCase as tHOU hast commanded, but a case lOWER tHAN lOWER! Thus do I spell! Behold spellcraft! Behold I, The Magician!

((Author’s note: That was the most Discordian missive I’ll ever put to words. I can’t possibly top it, and I guess I have to fucking retire now.))

I am grateful they taught me hIS names in hIS language, all the better to tell hIM how much hE suuucks! And the Watchmaker’s grand designs? Kabbalah? Catch you on the flipside, boi! I’ll be in that dual model, which totally looks like Circus Kirby btw. And I’m going to tell you all which klipah Baladan hangs out in by our next mass, I can feel it. Tarot correspondence? Uhhh, check the deck, sweaty. Number XV, it’s a doozy!

Divination? Evocation? Astromancy? Apotheosis?? Those are hIS miracles! Gifts for GOOD Boys! No, no. Not for Satan! Ok, but like… what if WAS for Satan?

*airhorn noises* BONUS TRACK BONUS TRACK!

In the couple weeks between masses, I reflected deeply upon that quote I found from The Jewish Encyclopedia, regarding why the great Talmudic scholars of my youth considered the Zohar such a dangerous text. I’ll reiterate in full: “On the other hand, the Zohar was censured by many rabbis because it propagated many superstitious beliefs, and produced a host of mystical dreamers, whose overexcited imaginations peopled the world with spirits, demons, and all kinds of good and bad influences.”

What were these new mystics doing that was so sinister, so apostate against good, orderly Judaism? What had they done to thus offend and menace Yahweh? They “peopled the world.” What a funny word they use. Peopled.

Humanized.

Peopling yourself, and peopling the people around you, is blasphemy. It’s a threat to “God’s plan.” They say so plainly. To honor my Discordian friends, I say that’s a flagrant, red fnord if I’ve ever seen one. Think about it.

Love, CMBW \|||/