On becoming a Zoroastrian in Italy-II

Michele Moramarco is a subscriber to Parsiana and at the magazine’s behest has written an article stating how his interest in Zoroastrianism originated, culminating in his navjote in Italy. The first of his three-part article dealt with his exposure to and interest in Zoroastrianism. This second extract deals with his understanding and practice of Zoroastrian precepts. His plans for furthering the study of and interest in Zoroastrianism in Italy and elsewhere will be mentioned in the third installment. The author can be contacted on e-mail: moramarco.m@libero.it

In 1984 I was invited by the noted Orientalist, Prof Alessandro Bausani (author of the unsurpassed synopsis Persia religiosa) to give some talks on comparative mysticism in one of his courses at "La Sapienza” State University in Rome. Working with him for some months gave me the chance of getting better acquainted with ancient Persian culture and of learning more about the influence of Zoroastrianism on later Iranian mystical Islam (especially on Sohrawardi). At this stage of my search, I delved into the doctrines, practices and history of many religious groups: Ramana Maharshi’s Advaita, Baha’is, Sikhs, Radhasoami (an offspring of Sikhism), Ismailis, Mevleviyya Sufis, Lotus Sutra Buddhism, Japanese New Religions, etc. In order to make a thoughtful choice, one has to be well up in the matter concerned. In 1985, while teaching Italian and History in State schools, I engaged in the regular study of humanistic psychology and at the end of a four-year specialization course I qualified as a therapist.

Moramarco: finding "religious wholeness”

Between 1987 and 1992 I gathered valuable materials on the Good Religion. In September 1987, being in London, I bought James Dar­mes­teter’s translation of the Avesta, Prof Mary Boyce’s Zoroastrians: Their Religious Beliefs and Practices and Khojeste Mistree’s Zoroastrianism: An Ethnic Perspective. Mistree’s book which is actually much more than a Parsi-centered portrait of the faith because it expounds theological concepts which are mightily universal was a great source of inspiration and knowledge for me, a truly faithful companion in my first wanderings across the spiritual landscapes of Zoroastrianism. For months it lay perma­nently on my bedside table for me to read it over and over again, and it is still a recurrently indispensable tool.

In 1990 I got in touch with two outstanding western scholars: Boyce, who kindly presented me with a copy of her Textual Sources for the Study of Zoroastrianism, and James Rus­sell, who invited by me in 1992 to be the guest speaker at a conference on the Noachide legacy (the universalist side of the Jewish tradition) brought me his Zoroastrianism in Armenia and a number of intriguing papers on many topics connected with the Good Religion (from the symbolism of sun, cock and horse in ancient Iran, to the contemporary Parsi garbas and monajats). Before a meal at my home, Russell lit a candle with my then six-year old son, Graziano, staring respectfully at him while he, at my request, recited the Jamvani baj.

Three years after, quite unexpectedly, my wife decided to divorce (a fashionable trend among Italian women in the last decade): this caused my soul a piercing sorrow. The day I left home in sadness, the Gathic verse ushta ahmai ushta kahmai cit came to my mind by the grace of Ohrmazd, and I made a twofold vow: to make my son laugh each day, even more than before, and to devote part of my time and skills — as a psychology teacher and therapist — to children of divorced parents who would ask me for help.

I guess I can say I fulfilled both the vows: my beloved son, who chose to live with me, has been growing happily and is now a smart 17-year-old with manifold interests and a genuine sympathy for Zoroastrianism, and more than 50 students suffering from parental strife have shown me their trust and affection by looking for me whenever they needed advice.

When Ahriman’s forces seemed to be tearing my life to pieces, my urvan stood firm, drawing strength from the sound morals, lofty visions and powerful prayers of our noble faith. I tried to follow the straight path and eventually won the battle against destruction. I found relief and guidance in Zoroastrianism; I owe it my spiritual enrichment even amidst those stormy months. More than ever, the idea of a falsely "omnipotent,” in fact a "mixed” God, author of both good and evil, didn’t speak to my condition, whereas I could wholeheartedly praise Ohrmazd, the true God who needs us and wants us as His hamkars (helpers).

As my research continued at an increased speed after 1994, the inward assurance that I could only worship a completely pure and righteous God led me to consider also other "religions of the Light,” such as Gnostic Christianity, Mandaeism, some schools of Mahayana Buddhism, etc, but I realized that besides lacking the richness and integrity of Zoroastrianism, they all tend to overstate the negative aspects of the material creation and to undervalue the good ones. This attitude eventually leads to a gloomy unbalance. Now, as a father I had my share in giving birth to a human being in the material world and I don’t think anyone should ever disclaim the value of parenthood, which gives man the highest joys on earth and a sense of glory. So, even if at times a sort of "cosmic pessimism” rose within me — as happens to many sensitive people, I believe — I knew that only creative optimism, based on the law of Asha (which is the real source of ushta) could sustain and nourish the meaningfulness of parental duty, in fact of all duties.

Once again, the long path led me to Zoroastrianism, which started meaning "religious wholeness” to me. When I used to worship according to other religious tradi­tions, I always felt there was something missing. Being a be­liever in some sort of universal revelation, I could easily draw inspiration from them, but I gradually came to realize that the roots of that "religious wholeness,” devoid of ambiguities and twistings, I was looking for, were best preserved in the Good Religion. Since I had always thought it’s a moral duty for everyone to tread the spiritual path which best suits one’s conscience, entering the gates of Zoroastrianism became a viable necessity for me. And I knew too well that acting otherwise would make me drown in the marsh of hypocrisy, double standards, unwor­thy compromises.

Because of the long search which led me through many different spiritual landscapes, I know I will always uphold a universalist approach to religious matters, yet being convinced that the fundamentals of a reasonable, lofty, ethically grounded and amiable system of faith are to be found in Zoroastrianism. Other religions enclose seeds of truth, but also corrupt them with illogical and sometimes awful dogmas (the worst being that of an evil-doing "god,” however disguised); they can add supple­mentary ideas, "atmospheres,” i.e. aesthetical richness, to the spiritual life of man, but can never match with the primary revelation — and with the consequent theological patterns and behavioral codes — provided by the Good Religion.

This is why I became a Zoroastrian. And this is why — at least, I think so — I feel at home in this tradition, despite the fact that I’m a scattered behdin.

Conversion: turning towards the Light

We have now come to the hot point of "conversion.” I have a heartfelt admiration for the Parsis who valiantly protected the faith from destruction and assimilation and passed it on across the centuries. I’m sincerely eager to learn from them. I also think that talking of a Zoroastrian survival without — or, even worse, despite — the Parsis, like somebody seems to be doing, is plain nonsense. At the same time, I can hardly understand why some Parsis — even among the most brilliant and authoritative in the knowledge of religion — can get so bitter on this issue. Most likely it’s because they fear that conversion from other faiths would dilute the principles and practices of the Good Religion, or that, once approved, it could affect their own community, some sections of which may be more easily allured by widespread or "fashionable” religions. I’m sure they also thwart conversion because they know how debasing it can be, for some people, to leave the inherited religion behind.

But, reasonable as these motivations can be, they all seem partial to me, and founded more on a defensive attitude than on a constructive thought process. A defensive attitude among Zoroastrians is historically justified, but probably not consist­ent with the effusive attributes (Spenta, Rayomand, Khoremand) which we ascribe to God and to our resplendent Daena. In the long run, it always brings about the worst kind of defeat: implosion. All closed communities are bound to implode.

The anti-conversion Parsis are right when they say that conversion is somehow "useless” because the Good Religion contem­plates salvation for all righteous people, no matter what confes­sion they follow; but they seem to be inconsistent with their own theological assumptions (centered in that precious "dualism” which asserts that God is only latently omnipotent or, if you prefer, that He is all-powerful only on the plan of Good) when they claim that changing one’s religious affiliation goes against God’s will, since He Himself decided that one should be born in a certain religion. On a parallel line of thought, one could end up arguing it’s God’s will that one should be born with a genetic disease or the like. Now, can anybody seriously and earnestly declare this, or that God wills anybody to live his life, say, in a stupid or bloody "religious” environment?

In this case, farewell Zoroastrianism! one would be tempted to say, because such an outlook, with its simplistic "providentialism,” sounds more Jewish, Christian or Muslim than Zoroastrian. And after all, no human being is entitled to compel anybody else’s conscience to stick to doctrines or practices that it finds no longer adequate or acceptable. And if it’s legitimate to maintain that one can be a Parsi only by "birthright,” it’s likewise sensible to declare that becoming a disciple of Zar­athushtra is a God-given right.

I see my personal Zoroastrian choice not as a denial, but rather as a refinement and an enlargement of my previous religi­ous experiences along moral and intellectual lines which I felt were traced by a higher hand. After all, the very word "conversion,” which comes from Latin, doesn’t mean relinquishing one’s path completely, but rather making it turn towards a certain direction, for the sake of one’s own spiritual safety. The seek­ing soul, like a sunflower, naturally turns to that point whence the Light comes to it.

I’ve never felt like a renegade, but like a fragile, yet determined person in search of Light and evolving under God’s promptings. I still prize and love many teachings of Jesus (who, I believe, was a seeker of Asha within the Jewish frame and, like the Essenes, by some hidden influence made many Jewish concepts shift towards Zoroastrian ones). I dare say that studying and practicing Zoroastrianism has provided me with a better under­standing of His message.

To be continued