I was raised in a fairly conservative Christian family, and became interested in religion at an early age. At Lewis and Clark College in Oregon, I was drawn to religious studies, but even then I was looking for non-traditional routes. 
   I was always a good student, but when I wrote an honors paper on Goddess imagery in the Judeo-Christian tradition, it wasn't well received. I never fit into academia very well. I just didn't have the right attitude. I don't have rigid respect for anything, quite frankly. It's just a part of my nature--not that I'm disrespectful. But my female professors--who might have been allies--discouraged me from going into academic theology (although my male professors thought highly of my ideas). So, I started thinking I should do clergy work. After a summer preaching to tourists in Rocky Mountain National Park, I went on to the Pacific School of Religion, where I spent two years in a United Methodist clergy master's program. 
   During my first semester there I read The Mists of Avalon. Working in the New Religious Movements section at the Graduate Theological Union Library, I came across references to the Fellowship of the Spiral Path in Berkeley. I started attending their meetings of the circle--a Goddess circle. We chanted, drummed and did rituals and magic for each other. That really grabbed me. As these women in the circle mentored me and took care of me, I began to feel a deep connection to what I call for lack of a better word "The Goddess." 
   During those two years preparing for United Methodist Clergy I was finding myself--a round Pagan in a square hole. The structure of the community 
ithin academia had a lot of rigid policies. For instance, I was a student editor for the school magazine and we ran a survey on inclusive [gender neutral] language, which was a real hot issue. Some students had a big problem with the dictated language of worship. The most interesting response to our survey was from a feminist scholar in ethics who thought it was irrelevant to ask how people felt about language policy. She felt that nobody has the right to allow emotions to enter policy-making. 
   My aim for the Christian ministry proved to be a problem. At first, I thought that I could integrate the Goddess into Christianity. During my second year in seminary, I chose to come to Point Arena as a student minister for my internship. Some people thought it was odd to be out in the woods rather than at some flash radical church in Berkeley, but I wanted a taste of the real work, and I got it. The first day I arrived, the committee person at St. Paul's called me up and said, "We're really sorry, but the funding has been cut. Instead of nine months, we only have enough money to pay you to be here for three months." So, I countered with a reduced salary stretched out over nine months and supplemented my income with waitress jobs. 
   In most Christian churches these days, at least the ones I've run into, the clergy person is asked to do the equivalent of 100 hours of work each week. We [clergy] would all meet in Ukiah once week and trade burnout stories. Burnout was massive. By this time, I was already beginning to think of myself as a Witch. That was difficult, because it meant that I couldn't be completely authentic with my congregation about who I was spiritually. This is pretty tough when the idea is to lead people in a spiritual way. I dressed in red and did football cheers at Easter service. The church was relatively forgiving, but we didn't really grok each other. Plus, what I liked the best was creating worship and writing sermons. They had me do this seven weeks in a row--preaching at all seven of the Methodist churches in Mendocino County in sequence. That just about killed me. I thought, Great, this is the part I love most about this job and I can't do it. Either I have to lower my standards and become banal or I'll kill myself trying do say profound things. 
   I became disenchanted with the Christian system--even in its liberal forms. What bothered me most was the lack of the feminine. Jesus didn't bother me, but I felt the need for a mother presence that wasn't there. Doctoring the language with reference to a Mother/Father/Sister/God while doing spiritual work in the same old way is simply not satisfying for most people. I found that attempts to eliminate sexism by using inclusive language drained the life from the ancient language. If you couldn't say "God the Father," or "God the Mother," you were left with "God-the-ever-present-parental-unit" kind of thing, which didn't work for me emotionally. 
   Eventually I realized the need to follow my heart rather than this career path. But I went back to school and finished my degree anyway. I didn't want to be a quitter. I received a Master of Divinity degree as a self-proclaimed Witch, while studying with the Fellowship of the Spiral Path as a priestess. Diana Paxson was my clergy coordinator. I don't think the school hierarchy really knew what hit them, or if anybody would get away with it now, but I did. 
   I haven't been back inside a church for over ten years, except for my parents' funerals. Having been so deeply steeped in Christianity, and finding it so unsatisfying, I've developed a pretty strong allergy toward the church. Some very courageous women remain in the church and are trying to do Goddess work within that context.  t was during my student ministry in Point Arena that I met my future husband, who clearly didn't want to leave the area.We married and worked as printers. While looking for clients, we ran across a magazine called SageWoman in Santa Cruz. We printed it for about a year and a half. When one issue was really late, I learned that the publisher didn't have the money to continue. So I bought the magazine, became the publisher and she became the editor. We worked pretty well together until she moved to Point Arena. She didn't stay long. When we parted ways, I found another editor, but eventually, out of necessity, I became the editor. As it turns out, I really love the work. It's like being the director of a huge chorus. It's my job to help make everyone's voice-- artist, writer or advertiser--meld together in harmony. It's challenging but I love it. 
   A couple of years ago, after the birth of our third son, I had a nervous breakdown--a hormonally induced postpartum depression, complete with panic attacks and severe anxiety. I was a real mess. I was doing hypnotherapy and taking anti-depressants, because I was seriously suicidal. At one point I prayed, "I know I haven't talked to you in many years but, hey Jesus, would you help me out?" I felt a presence that was very comforting and helped me calm down and become less strung out. I was surprised, but it felt really good. This presence, this being, helped me in a way that my previous appeals to the Goddess had not done. Then I prayed to the Goddess, hoping she wasn't mad. I felt Her presence as well. She said, "No, I'm not. Actually, this is really good." In my next editorial, I wrote about my conversation with Jesus, and explained my experience. I thought that I was merely sharing my own story, but many readers reacted very strongly. 
   The first letter that came in was the harshest. It was from a woman who accused me of betraying my readers and contaminating the magazine by bringing in the patriarchy. She ended with, "Thanks for poisoning the sacred well." A fair number canceled their subscriptions. Some thought I should resign as editor, but an equal number of people said, "Thank Goddess somebody has said this. I feel this way too. I'm an outcast in both communities. If I tell my Christian friends I'm a witch, they think I'm wacko; if I tell my Pagan friends I'm a Christian, they think I'm a jerk. 
   This dialogue took place in "The Rattle" in SageWoman's reader's forum. It hurt a lot, and personally, and I wish I had never opened my mouth. But as a leader and facilitator within the Goddess community, I'm glad this happened--for the sake of people who were dually closeted. 
   Then a wonderful thing happened. Once again, it came out of a negative experience. Early in 1997, SageWoman got into dire financial trouble. One of our distributors went bankrupt owing us a huge amount of money, so I sent out a fundraising letter. In response, over 800 readers made donations! Not only did the money save our bacon financially, it made me realize that people really value what I am doing, in spite of the controversy. 
   I see my job as editor of SageWoman as providing a forum for women. The woman-only policy has been in place since its inception in 1988. SageWoman is Goddess centered, but not exclusively. Before each issue, I announce a theme. Articles are almost all reader-written from personal perspectives, except for our columns. As editor, I try to reflect the Goddess community. Having participated in both the Pagan and Christian communities, I see that each has its strengths and pitfalls. Christianity is sexist, not just in its politics and language, but emotionally and in its lack of the spiritual feminine. It is symbolically undernourished, has problems with sexuality and lacks acceptance of the body and the Earth. On the positive side, Christian communities have a structure and network. If people are hungry, the community comes through. I read a book recently about the rise of Christianity in the early Roman Empire. It said that Christianity thrived and expanded because Christians took care of people. Their theology made them socially responsible. 
   Paganism has no mature ethical or theological underpinnings for social justice or political activism. Since Pagan theology isn't firmly constituted in structure, this makes it difficult for people to form solid communities. There are a lot of solitaries and only a few small groups. I think this is a theological problem as well as organizational. Pagans don't have a common story. On the positive side, they aren't limited to a holy book that everyone has to follow. 
   What I'm about to say will make me a heretic, but heck, I'm a heretic already. Maybe Christianity came along when old style, ancient Paganism had outlived its usefulness. Now perhaps neo-Paganism is picking up, because Christianity isn't appropriately addressing the critical environmental situation we're in. The basic tenet of Paganism is that the sacred is rooted in the natural world. 
   In my opinion, what is needed is a bridge--a creative synthesis. I'm in a position to provide some bridging. For me, Goddess spirituality and, in fact, spirituality in general has to be rooted in the real world. My path is to help water the seeds of the Goddess. She is present in women around the world. I provide a place in the magazine for women to share their stories--to learn and grow with each other's help. I realize I have a mission. Through everything, I feel like the Goddess was pushing me in the right direction. I have to do what I'm called to do. If I step off my path, I get hit over the head. I think eventually I will write a book. The title I have in my head is, Confessions of a Christian Witch. 
   The more I read submissions to SageWoman, the more I see people searching for something. Lots of women are bringing the Goddess into the world, and that's wonderful. My unique gift seems to be bringing compassion and hope to the dialogue between new Pagan paths and the old patriarchal ones. I really don't have the background to speak about Judaism or Islam, so I concentrate on bridging the gap between Christianity and the Goddess. Although I think about this a great deal, I don't make it a major focus in SageWoman itself. This is more of a personal quest. 
Both paths have much to learn from each other--in the spirit of compassion rather than conversion. Paganism has the gift of beauty and a connection to the natural world. The so-called patriarchal paths, like Christianity, possess the gifts of compassion and justice. I wish we could find it in ourselves to learn from and honor both. 
   Women have the power, the strength and the beauty to transform the world by honoring each other, taking our vision seriously and working our butts off. That's what I try to do, every day. 

Anne Newkirk Niven is editor and publisher of SageWoman, a magazine of women's spirituality and Goddess religion. She is also the publisher and art designer of PanGaia magazine, a new co-gender Pagan magazine. Anne lives in Point Arena with her husband, Alan, and three sons, Arthur (9), Aidan (7) and Andrew (3).