As Paganism’s popularity grows in Maine, leaders are coming together around an often solitary practice

Every morning for Paul Ridlon (aka Magnus de Rudlan) starts the same.

Regardless of the weather, he steps out of the circular yurt where Portland lives and lights incense at the south altar, which houses a tree stump with two cranes and a statue of the Egyptian god Horus.

After saying hello to the sun, the earth, and the spirits he believes represent his land, Ridlund takes a walk around his raised garden bed, letting the earth beneath his bare feet remind him of his connection to the natural world.

Ridlund follows Norse Druidry, a form of contemporary Paganism focused on respect for the environment, which he has practiced for about 15 years and studied at the Druid College, a school in Biddeford that trains people to become priests of nature.

It is one of many polytheistic and mystery religions that make up the umbrella of modern paganism, which often emphasize the connection between nature and the gods and often revive pre-Christian religious practices, such as celebrating the summer solstice and other seasonal festivals or venerating gods believed to exist in all creation.

In addition to Druidism, other popular modern pagan religions include Wicca (whose followers are considered witches) and Eclectic Paganism (which is inspired by various faith traditions).

As religiosity declines across the country and in Maine, Pagans across the state say they are increasingly interested in the earth-based spirituality their traditions offer, a trend supported by religious survey data.

Paganism is usually practiced alone, but there are many groups and institutions supporting the faith in Maine, including a clergy association that appears to be the only such association in the country.

A growing practice

Although Pagans make up only a small portion of the population, Paganism appears to have increased in recent decades in Maine and across the country.

The latest data from the Pew Research Center shows that 4% of Mainers identified themselves as Pagan or Wiccan in a 2023-34 survey, the highest rate of any state. That’s twice as much as in the Pew survey a decade ago.

While that comes with some caveats — the sample size is small, the margin of error is large, and it may reflect growing acceptance of paganism rather than pure growth — to Ridlon, it rings true. If anything, he thinks that number is underestimated. He believes that the emphasis many Mainers place on independence aligns well with the personal and earth-centered practices that make up a range of pagan traditions.

Ridlund attributes this growth to a decline in interest in Christianity, as paganism’s lack of doctrinal texts or hierarchical structures appealed to those who had been raised Christian but later abandoned the faith. He is Catholic and remembers the nuns teaching him in his early years that God is present in all people, which he compares to his belief today that everything is animistic.

Researchers such as Marilyn R. Pukkila, a research librarian at Colby College and Eclectic Pagans, attribute this growth in part to the second-wave feminist movement of the 1960s and 1970s, when many were interested in the idea of ​​a female goddess central to Wicca and her ritual independence, which appealed to women and LGBTQ people who felt shut out of Christianity.

Modern Pagan sociologist Helen Berger agrees with this explanation, describing a movement away from organized religion and toward nature-based spirituality, driven by the feminist and gay rights movements as well as environmental concerns.

“It’s a non-dogmatic religion,” Berger said. “It’s a practiced religion; it’s a religion where you can do your own thing. So you have all these feminists, environmentalists, anti-authoritarians … and gay people coming in that influence where the religion goes.”

Berger said that in the 1970s and 1980s, many pagans either belonged to or trained in covens, which are formal groups of witches. Berger said solo practitioners have become more common since the 1990s and the advent of the Internet, which has made it easier to practice paganism outside of urban centers.

She believes this is part of the reason for Maine’s economic growth, since much of Maine’s population lives in rural areas.

Recently, videos of witches on TikTok and other social media platforms have sparked interest in pagan practices, Berger said. These trends can also help destigmatize faith.

Circe Moss MacDonald, director of spirituality at New Church in Portland, who practices a nature-based spirituality but does not consider herself Pagan, said she has also noticed an increase in Pagan adherents during her nine years with the organization. The new church is open to many faiths, with six pagan groups holding events there last year.

The new church’s monthly Cosmic Mass, co-celebrated by Ridlon and MacDonald, attracts those seeking a spiritual connection with nature, often using costumes, puppets, drumming and dancing. During the February Cosmic Mass, Ridlon and McDonald explored the fundamental roots of electronic devices.

McDonald said the Mayans appear to have increasingly celebrated the summer solstices, spring equinoxes and other seasonal festivals important to pagan practices. Search data from Google shows Mainers have shown more interest in eight major holidays over the past five years than any other state except Vermont.

For more than 40 years, Maine pagans have also gathered on the beach in early May for Beltan, celebrating the start of summer, the time halfway between the spring equinox and the summer solstice. The event has been scaled back in recent years due to the pandemic and venue changes, but still provides a way for Pagans to gather. One volunteer said people often get married during the festival.

establish legitimacy

While Pagan rituals are often performed individually, spiritual leaders take on pastoral roles by leading public gatherings, serving as chaplains in hospitals and prisons, officiating at weddings, and advocating for the broader Pagan community.

The Maine Pagan Clergy Association offers a process for spiritual leaders to obtain a Pagan clergy license, which enables them to officiate at weddings and more under state law. Community leaders say this could help promote equality between diverse faith groups and other religions.

Since the organization’s founding in 2001, Robinson said about 40 people have completed the clergy association’s licensing process, which includes questionnaires, background checks, mandatory reporter training and interviews. Applicants must also abide by the group’s code of ethics.

“We’re meeting and working with new people all the time,” said Kerry Robinson, president of the Clergy Association.

Robinson said the license can make it easier to do other forms of ministry, such as serving incarcerated people or those in hospitals, although it doesn’t always work. Three years ago, she reached out to a hospital that served Pagan patients with spiritual needs. She said the hospital stopped responding to her emails after Robinson made it clear she was a pagan.

“There’s still some legacy in a lot of established belief systems that don’t take pagan clergy seriously because the way we operate is very different from the way they operate,” Robinson said.

The association’s process appears to be unique among the states. While some other states have statewide Pagan associations, none appear to have a clergy focus or licensing program. Instead, individual Pagan groups may offer training programs or ordination paths of varying intensity for their particular traditions, similar to the Druid Colleges of Maine.

Holli Emore serves as executive director of Cherry Hill Seminary in South Carolina, an online seminary focused on Pagan practices. Requirements for marriages vary by state, and some students obtain nondenominational licenses online through Universal Life Church or other avenues, she said. Cherry Hill also began offering students ordination last fall, which meets some state requirements.

Unaware of a statewide Pagan organization outside of Maine that issues licenses and provides oversight, Emore said she has spoken with Robinson multiple times about her hopes that other states will “follow their model.”

For Kevin Emmons, secretary and licensing coordinator for the Maine Clergy Group, a spiritual experience can be as simple as having a cup of tea in the morning and reflecting on the trade routes and natural processes that made it possible. Emmons said the meditative aspect of Paganism is part of the appeal, but it also challenges traditional religious expectations.

“Because we don’t tend to own churches and own property and gather,” Emmons said, he and other Pagans are not taken as seriously as members of other faiths, explaining that licenses help establish legitimacy.

Ridlund obtained his license through the association, which he said helps build trust in the community by providing a moral foundation for pagan leaders.

As his personal spiritual work continues, he works to bring more Pagans together through festivals and rituals in southern Maine. Christians may go to church for an hour or two a week, but what he depicts is much more immersive.

“It takes a day—actually, longer,” Ridlund said, “just to leave this big world behind.”