This week concluded in International Blasphemy Day. This is not one of the Satanic Temple's holidays, but rather the anniversary of when caricatures of Muhammad were published in a Danish newspaper. Certain Muslim imams whipped up a furor over the offense that culminated in bombings of Danish embassies and the deaths of over 100 people. Over cartoons.
The celebration isn't of the fact that Muslims were ridiculed, and it's not anti-Muslim. The celebration is of the fact that we are free to express and critique all ideas; religion holds no special exemption from that freedom. We can question, disagree, or outright mock religions – and no matter how offended the religious are, it's a freedom we will continue to exercise.
When someone first deconverts from a religion, acts of blasphemy can be cathartic, especially as part of a ritual. Some choose to destroy a Bible or something else that symbolizes their departed faith. Others choose to be "un-baptized," renouncing a past ritual declaring their faith (or promising to impose faith) in a superstition.
For others, it's purely about desensitization. We're conditioned to fear the names of Satan or demons; to tiptoe around the tetragrammaton; to speak reverently the name of Jesus; never to disrespect the prophet of Allah. Those norms are based on religious faith, and are ingrained by society even in those who don't hold to those faiths. Many new Satanists have to work through the fear of the name and image of Satan before they can embrace a Satanic identity – I certainly did. I'm still not all the way through it.
Desensitization blasphemy is about learning that these words are just words. I can invoke the name of Satan, or Belial, or Baphomet upon myself... and nothing happens. I can smash a crucifix or curse the name of Oily Josh... and nothing happens. I can publish a derogatory cartoon about a supposed prophet who raped young children... and nothing happens. The fact that a religion's followers feel the need to quash such blasphemy themselves simply proves that even in their belief, either their God doesn't care about such slights or is unable to avenge their honor.
My first ritual was of the blasphemy-as-renunciation sort. We attended church on Palm Sunday. There were palm fronds distributed outside the church, and everyone processed into the sanctuary ritually hailing the arrival of the Messiah. Other palm fronds were folded into crosses that people could keep. I kept my palm frond.
The following Saturday, the night before Easter, I took the palm frond – now starting to dry out – and folded it into a cross like those I'd seen at church. Then, in a ritual loosely modeled after this one, I burned it. In doing so, I finally renounced the faith that I'd been holding so loosely for so long. I scattered and stomped on the ashes.
Did I yell Ave Satanas! into the night? I did not – my wife and son were sleeping nearby, and my neighbors' houses not that distant. Do I think burning crosses have unpleasant associations? Absolutely. But I'd been dragged to church on Palm Sunday and knew I'd be going again on Easter, and I wanted to do something for myself to reject the pageantry and inanities of Holy Week.
For some, Blasphemy Day winds up being about other people. They're acting out for an audience, hoping to garner attention. To each their own, but for me, that feels childish. Blasphemy is first and foremost about our freedom of conscience. We are free to think and question; religious mores of yesteryear do not and must not abrogate that freedom.