By Kemba Mchawi

Twenty-two years ago I copied a definition of “priest.”  I amply displayed it on the empty wall space between the double-mirrored dresser in my Bronx bedroom. I wanted to know exactly what was I getting myself into. Having recently been initiated into the Yoruba religion, I was an iyawo, yet I knew at the end of this year-long process, I would be called a priest. I came across this definition in a friend’s theology book: “A priest is an ordained person used to serve as an intermediary between God and Man.” Sitting around, with the absence of good television and enchanting books to soothe my mind, I had time to ponder. And this I did. I wondered what exactly that definition of priest would mean in my life. In the next nine months, would I, or even could I, really be a priest serving as a passageway to God?  A helper of people to God ? Really. Come on now.  I had all of these thoughts and doubts, yet I believed, or at least I wanted to believe it.  And it did give me a sense of purpose.

Here I was encapsulated in an ocean of white sheets, white clothes, white shades, and white-colored essentials – like toothbrush, comb, umbrella, bag, it was all a part of my new daily life. It brought peace and stillness to my existence. The two new lives inside of me grew. One, a baby girl, sprouted forth months later in a cascade of mother birth excitement filled with fear, pain, joy, and love. Then there was this other new life – the ashe of Yemonja. It too was growing within. While the former would radiate my life externally, the other would stay forever hopefully inside of me, moving, molding, shaping me to be better – and to live better. I believed I was getting ready for my priesthood, but I also knew to be an intermediary of God, one had to have knowledge.

As the years rolled by, I studied.  For me, studying looked like countless evening odu classes at my Godmother’s house, and many weekend-long moments in the igbodu, sacred rooms where Ocha ceremonies were being performed, with incessant talks with elder priests, and sometimes probing questions for Oriates (I had questions but I was not questioning!).  Along with this, I read. Not just on the Yoruba religion, but books on how to understand life, and live life– all this deemed necessary for my spiritual development as a priest.

So as I interpret the writing on the wall of yesteryear, I believe a priest has a responsibility to listen, learn and honor God and all that is of God. In our Yoruba tradition, this is exemplified in Orisha, Egun, man and woman, trees, rivers, oceans, the stones, and all the forces of nature that lie before us.  This is my take. Yet, let me turn to the well-practiced elders and keepers of this tradition for more prudent reflections and insight on what being a priest is in our Yoruba-Lucumi tradition.

Iyalorisha Stephanie Weaver  

According to Iyalorisa Stephanie Weaver, Yoruba-Lucumi practitioners are initiated on different levels beginning with the first notable initiation of receiving elekes; for some it began with a naming ceremony. Eventually one receives warriors, and possibly Olokun, Ibeji, or Babaluaiye, that then put one on a different level of initiation, and some would say “on the path to priesthood.”   After one makes Ocha and completes the initiation period, they are then called priests. However, Iyalorisa Stephanie Weaver explains, “The way we use the word priest is a misnomer for what we can do and who we are. Priesthood in the Western sense makes you think of someone that is supposed to take care of people, and live a certain life.”  Weaver asserts that this is not always so for everyone. “[An individual’s ita] will dictate how [one] should live their lives in Ocha,” she says. “Some people have Ocha for themselves, their family or spiritual health. Some make Ocha because of karmic responsibility while others might make Ocha to save their life.  Everyone who makes Ocha we call priest, for want of a better definition in English.  Unfortunately, the use of this term has caused so much misunderstanding and pain especially when people don’t know what they are doing or assume they should be doing something other than what Orisa wants of them.”  Weaver drives her point home by saying, “Only some are actually supposed to serve as priests in the Western sense.” Thus, she proclaims that people need to stop pushing untruths and insisting that every initiate should be a priest as it often causes a lot of unnecessary confusion for people.

Iyalorisha Oseye Mchawi

Iyalorisa Oseye Mchawi agrees with Iyalorisa Stephanie Weaver, adding, “Although our system through divination will often tell people what they cannot do as it relates to Ocha, it doesn’t always tell people what they should be doing, as far as working in Ocha. This can be a problem. We know everyone is not meant to do everything.  Some people get initiated and they are told through odu that they cannot initiate others (be a godparent). However, that does not make them less relevant. They may be needed as spiritualists, teachers, cooks, artisans, etc. Everyone who comes to Ocha has a purpose to meet, service to provide, and knowledge to attain.”  Mchawi also believes that people still have obligations to fulfill, asserting that,  “Reciprocity in our religious practice is important. People who are initiated as priests should put their hands in assisting someone else to get to the next level,” says Mchawi.  “In our Ocha house there is a system that is in place where everything we do requires the assistance of other priests, not just the godparents. As such, serving as as a priest is not a linear individual action, but more like a circle where everybody helps one another.”

Oriate Alex Shango 

Oriate Alex Shango says that although we are letting linguistics drive the true meaning of a priest, – what we really are, are initiates. In that light, he suggests, “As initiates we are owner of the secrets in our religion.”  While Alex agrees that some are born to minister the religion he too notes that everyone in the religion does not have that same obligation.  “If you are crowned Ocha – it is your responsibility to follow the direction of your Ocha or follow the direction of your Orisha in your ita. Your script is dictated by your ita. There is no one rule for everybody.”  However, Alex insists that, “If you are initiated in this religion, then you are referred to as a priest.  It’s not a title that someone can take away from you – if you are a santero, you are a santero, period.” In Alex’s opinion, you are a transformed person just by the nature of the ceremony you have gone through. “You don’t make Ocha to help others, you make Ocha to help yourself, yet some have of us have to help others, and some of us do not.”  He insists people follow their itas and concludes, “Unfortunately, we try to make parallels to Christianity and other religions for definitions, when actually there are no parallels.”

Oriate Senemeh Burke

While Oriate Senemeh Burke’s beliefs mirror those of Weaver and Mchawi, his viewpoint slightly differs from that of Alex.  Burke argues we should examine more closely this idea of calling initiated people priests. Burke contends that there needs to be a change in the understanding of what constitutes one as a priest. He believes, “In my opinion, I think this term needs to be reconstituted.” He disagrees that just by going through a 384-day initiation process (a year and two weeks), one should be considered a priest. Using the word priest lightly “sets a bad precedent in the community, and we are seeing this happen more and more.” Burke suggests there needs to be training, and a demonstration of commitment before the title priest is actually bestowed upon people. He offers the example, “When people enter the police force, first they are cadets. They must go through basic training. After they graduate from this position, they are then only rookies. This is where the real apprenticeship takes place. They must be assigned to veteran police officers and work hard to learn, build and stand on their own two feet.  Someone who accepts the title of priest should be applying to a higher level of scrutiny ethically and morally.  They should also function with humility. Priests should be an example of good behavior on how one should conduct themselves in the community.” Burke adds, “A priest should also be a person of service to others and the community. “We are custodians of the tradition and should move forward with high standards and expectations. We should not be about money, power, or being in control of others.” With this, Burke believes there are several things that should be considered when one is bestowed the title of priest: being initiated, showing devotion to a certain level of training and commitment, demonstrating the general upliftment of community through Orisha practice, and expanding the knowledge of others.

To Be a Priest or Not to Be a Priest

As we move forward on this path as a priest, it is apparent that our call to duty will not just be exclusively defined by our desires. Sometimes we want more than what Orisha expect from us. Yet clearly, sometimes we are not doing enough. In either case, we must do what is called for us. We know that our conventional definition of priest is not necessarily a cookie cutter prescription for all and is often determined by our personal ita as well as our level of involvement, training, and commitment. Since one size simply does not fit all, and a rose is still a rose by any other name, for now, a priest is still a priest is still a priest. I guess it is best to figure out what being a priest should be for you – determine your role, make it fit accordingly, and march forward on your journey with Olodumare.

Kemba Mchawi, Yemonja priest of 23 years, is the author of the upcoming book, Growing Up Yoruba – A Teen Guide Book to Practicing the Yoruba Lucumi Tradition, a down-to-earth approach in teaching teenagers how to practice the Yoruba Lucumi religion, while still enjoying being a young adult in America.