My Personal Shrine

At the heart of my personal shrine, Hestia, goddess of the hearth, holds everything together. I acquired this image from the back cover of my copy of a 1980s SageWoman Magazine. It represents my long and deep connection with her. When I stand before this image, I feel the comforting embrace of home.

To Hestia’s left, a small statue of Ganesha sits on a platform as a reminder of a significant moment on my spiritual journey and the hope for a second chance. Though I turned away from his call in devotion to my Jewish path, Ganesha, now silent, emanates a gentle benevolence. On Hestia’s right, a janut I call Lara (a nod to Sofia Samatar’s fantasy tale) embodies the protective power that has shielded my soul through life’s battering waves.

Holy Mother Leah, a figure deeply rooted in Jewish tradition, shares qualities with Esau, my favorite biblical figure. Her portrait reminds me of the importance of forging a meaningful life without relying on the love or approval of others.

The image of Hekate on the right side of my shrine changes often, as I have many images of her. The left side of my shrine contains a pillar-like statue of Artemis, reminiscent of Asherah, and a delicate glass vase, like the one Hekate sometimes holds in one hand. The Artemis statue as well as a large, red-eyed serpent brooch, representing Nehustan, were gifts from my friend, Kesam. Ceramic cats, symbols of affection and grace, playfully explore the space, adding a touch of whimsy to the shrine’s solemnity.

Before the first candle flame flickers before Hestia, I invoke her in modern Greek: Estía, i próti kai i televtaía, theá tis estías. Estía, yemáti evloyíes, theá pou me akoúei. “Hestia the first and last, goddess of the hearth. Hestia full of blessings, goddess who hears me.” 

Next, I light the candles before Ganesha and Lara, reciting words of recognition and gratitude: “Ganesha of the benevolent gaze” and “Lara, protector of my spirit.” Then I light two more candles for “Hekate, teacher of sorcery” and “Artemis-Asherah.”

Next to my shrine, the glossy black stove top is where I kindle Shabbos, yahrzeit, and Hanukkah lights. My kiddush cup stands there during Shabbat and incense burns there during the week. A magnificent hanukkiah, also a gift from Kesam, towers at the back of the stove; it is a reminder of tradition, and its enormous size means it dominates my whole studio apartment.

A smaller shrine rests on my desk, featuring the same image of Hestia. A carved wooden Tree of Life, with subdued colors, shows the traditional attribution of Hebrew letters. A photograph of a reddish-orange ceramic image of Hekate with two torches to guide Persephone from the underworld reminds me of Hekate’s long history. A necklace bearing Thor’s Hammer serves as a testament to the thunderstorms that have brought me messages of significance. The wall is covered with photographs of joyous moments with friends and nature, as well as a replica of an antique Shiviti.

I perform rituals before various trays set against the northern wall of my home. The tray becomes an altar, holding the tools and symbols necessary for ritual and spell-craft. Seated in front of this altar, I transport myself to Hekate’s astral temple where I can take purposeful action to shape my life.