From Mischief to Mindfulness: The Evolution of the American Druid Lifestyle Born from a 1960s Campus Prank

Last week, the northern pole of the Earth leaned to its most distant position from the sun, marking the arrival of the year’s longest night. For individuals who center their spiritual practices around the seasons, the solstice signifies a period of rituals and contemplation, connecting with the darkness of the natural world and the illumination that lies ahead. Across henges and groves in Britain, individuals assembled to commemorate this occasion: wiccans, various neo-pagans, and druids.

Druids are primarily recognized as practitioners of ancient iron age rituals, embracing an earth-centered spirituality prevalent in what is now known as England, Wales, Scotland, and Ireland. This movement still has numerous followers in the area who trace their roots back to these time-honored ancestors.

Conversely, in North America, the situation is different. Modern druids on the continent can link their origins back to what was, in essence, a college jest. It all started with a playful protest movement, initiated as a rebuttal to an oppressive college religious mandate in the 1960s.

The Reformed Druids of North America began as “a prank, a jab at the administration,” noted Howard Cherniack, one of the group’s founders. Almost six decades later, it transformed into something considerably larger: a movement that has given rise to new sects, “groves” scattered throughout the country, and, arguably, a religion.

Northfield, Minnesota, 1963

The latter 1960s were a transformative period on American academic campuses. Yet, in 1963, the summer of freedom and free speech movements were still years away. At institutions like Carleton College, a liberal arts college in Minnesota, the administration maintained a paternalistic approach that many students began to find confining, with men and women assigned to separate dormitory accommodations (although only women faced curfew). Universities during that time essentially assumed a parental role (legally, in loco parentis). This included monitoring the moral conduct of the students.

“One of the minor annoyances was that we were mandated to attend, I believe six or seven times in a 10-week semester, to something that was supposedly ‘spiritually beneficial for us’,” recalled Cherniack, who was a student at Carleton in 1963. This could take the form of either a religious service on campus or in the surrounding area, or a talk on a spiritual subject. While some of the discussions were indeed intriguing, students resented being compelled to participate, Cherniack stated.

One evening, while seated in a dorm room, Cherniack, along with his companions Norman Nelson and David Fisher, formulated a scheme: to create their own religion and seek acknowledgment for participating in its gatherings.

“After all, any faith we develop is equally as valid or invalid as any other belief,” chuckled Cherniack.

A druid order emerges

To initiate a religion, a name is essential. Cherniack was raised in a secular Jewish environment, yet mentioned that whenever his parents were asked about their religious association, they would attempt to deflect the conversation by responding “druid.” So he proposed that.

The group concurred, but they were unfamiliar with true druids. Hence, to excuse themselves from adhering to authenticity, they settled on the Reformed Druids of North America.

The students devised organizing principles sufficiently broad not to alienate individuals of various faiths (“nature is good”, essentially), crafted a sigil, and donned some robes. They composed a liturgy, constructed an altar in the college’s arboretum, invoked the Earth mother and circulated the waters of life (diluted whiskey, in clear breach of the college’s alcohol policy). Thus, the Reformed Druids of North America (RDNA) came into existence. Cherniack sent a public letter to the dean of students, questioning how the college – which fostered intellectual inquiry within its classes – could deem any established religion more legitimate than the one they had conceived. He never received a response, but declared it a triumph.

“I believed we had made an ethical statement, highlighting the hypocrisy of the system … and that there was no point in dressing up in robes and heading out to the arboretum on Sundays. I favored sleeping in,” he remarked.

While Cherniack spent his Sundays resting, other students persisted – either as a form of protest, or because they relished gathering to listen to something with a rhythm of worship amidst the trees.

The protest succeeded. Within a year, the religious requirement was rescinded. Yet religions, much like children, assume a life of their own – frequently in directions that those who gave them life may never have envisioned.

A jest taken earnestly

Although Cherniack made it abundantly clear that the RDNA was established humorously, for another early participant, Deborah Frangquist, it was not merely a joke, but “a deeply spiritual sense of not taking ourselves too seriously.”

Deborah and her spouse, David – who continue to identify as druids – contended that the invocations, although born from protest, united a disparate group

of university scholars into a ceremonial realm, addressing sacred inquiries. The emphasis on the natural world was a refreshing change from conventional religious customs of that time.

They aren’t the sole ones taking it earnestly – whether at RDNA or the groups that evolved from it. Jean Pagano serves as the arch-druid of Ár nDraíocht Féin (ADF), a sect that branched from RDNA in the 1980s to follow a more neo-pagan direction, and has since emerged as one of the largest druid organizations in North America. “RDNA began as a joke,” Pagano stated. “And still, some individuals engage with it in that manner. However, the ceremonies I’ve witnessed are profound.”

Pagano observed that principles as straightforward as “nature is beneficial” can be regarded lightly or examined as deeply as an individual desires. As someone who practices daily devotionals, Pagano expressed that he wouldn’t want RDNA (and the organizations stemming from it) to be dismissed due to their beginnings. “Irrespective of its origins, it has developed a life of its own. They crafted something that was beautiful, effective, inspiring, and has endured the test of 60 years,” he elaborated.

RDNA vs actual druids

RDNA arguably transformed into something – but was it truly druidry? Students at Carleton College selected the name because it served, in a way, as an unfilled vessel – they lacked substantial knowledge about genuine druids. However, Ronald Hutton, a historian at Gresham College and the University of Bristol who has extensively researched druids, stated candidly, nobody else possesses much knowledge either.

“What we can assert for certain is that the original druids were the primary specialists in spirituality and magic – spiritual matters in general – among the communities of north-western Europe” approximately 2,000 years ago, stated Hutton. “That’s the only fact we can confirm about them with assurance.”

The challenge lies in the fact that the druids did not leave behind any writings of their own. Furthermore, Hutton advised that the accounts penned by their Greek and Roman contemporaries should be approached with a degree of skepticism.

“They were crafting propaganda – either extolling druids as immensely wise, nature-oriented philosophers who could impart considerable knowledge to the Romans, or denouncing them as priests of brutality, ignorance, and tyranny, with a particularly gruesome take on human sacrifice,” explained Hutton.

He clarified that even the portrayal we currently have of druids – bearded sages adorned in cloaks and sandals – actually originates from statues of Greek philosophers that a Renaissance author mistakenly believed to depict druids; his erroneous description endured. Yet, this absence of knowledge has helped shape the druidic legacy.

“You have an array of colors on an artist’s palette from which you can choose,” Hutton remarked, permitting various interpretations: “You can envision wise druids, scientists and philosophers profoundly connected to the mysteries of nature. You can conceive patriotic druids, rallying native resistance against Roman invaders. You can picture ‘green’ druids, individuals who spend time in natural settings as part of their passion for the environment.”

RDNA at Carleton and beyond

As Eric Hillemann, senior associate at Carleton College’s archives noted, RDNA’s perspective on druidry also underwent various transformations – at times delving deeper into Celtic lore or experimenting with Native American spiritual traditions, and at other times intersecting significantly with the campus Doctor Who society. However, a constant theme was the sense of playfulness. “They never took themselves too seriously at any point. A thread of humor pervades the whole affair,” he remarked.

Hillemann further mentioned that the Carleton “mother grove” preserved substantial involvement for around a decade following its inception – long after the original impetus for protest had faded. It fluctuated through the 70s and 80s, and in recent years has maintained a steady presence, Hillemann stated, although it never surpassed a couple of dozen members. Yet, beyond Carleton, it thrived.

Members of RDNA – especially those who graduated in the early days – carried their passion for the practice as they ventured beyond Minnesota. Unsurprisingly, the initial groves emerged in university towns, as alumni relocated to urban areas such as Ann Arbor, Michigan, and Berkeley, California, for graduate studies (and, evidently, to entice their flatmates into druidic involvement). Members established a national governing body, though Hillemann indicates that by the 1970s, it had disbanded, with each RDNA grove typically functioning independently.

As seen in all faiths, divisions began to arise. RDNA gave rise to New RDNA, the Henge of Keltria, the Order of the White Oak, and various other sects. While many have ceased to exist, some, like ADF, continue to have a robust membership across the United States.

A bona fide religion?

So, what are we to conclude about RDNA? A demonstration, a remarkable narrative – undoubtedly. But a true religion?

Ethan Doyle White, a folklore lecturer at the University of Hertfordshire who has explored modern druidry, noted that it’s straightforward to dismiss contemporary druids. “It’s perceived as the whimsical pastime of bearded oddballs – that’s the stereotype,” he admitted.

But while RDNA and its successors may lack the sheen of authenticity that time bestows, Doyle White stated that they effectively fulfill the (contentious) characteristics of a legitimate religion. “Is genuineness essential?” pondered Doyle White. “Perhaps not.”

David Fisher was present in that Carleton College dormitory with Howard Cherniack developing the RDNA liturgy many years ago and later became an Episcopal priest. While he finds contentment in his ecclesiastical home, Fisher acknowledged that this “frivolous jest turned into a source of significance in peoples’ lives.”

While he humorously noted he might have reconsidered his actions in 1963 had he foreseen what it would ultimately become, he bears no regret for what was established.

“Whatever it is, or could be, it served the interests of individuals,” he remarked. “Those who were drawn to seeking the spirit’s presence within nature. And that, to my mind, represents a spiritual realization.”