Birth of Isis. Feast of "revealing the face" of this goddess with her ennead. Performing all the rites of the feast of robing . according to the ritual of the place of the First Feast. They make a great oblation of bread, beer, oxen, fowl, wine, milk, pomegranate-wine, [gazelles, oryx, ibex], cranes, pigeons, fattened ducks, with fresh vegetables and all fruit. It is sweet to serve the Beautiful One with right offerings! -The Denderah Festival Calendar Each night while I sleep, the light is withdrawn, and a darkened world returns to primordial chaos. This disorder is Isfet, the opposite of Mayet-Rightness, Truth. Like dark water, Isfet is of infinite, even frightening possibility.

Will it seep up moist like ground water, like dreams, to nourish growth and change? Or will it burst forth, unchecked, unsettling, and destructive? Anything might happen. Anything might exist out there in night''s shadowed darkness. The formlessness of the unillumined world is why I welcome with full heart the awakening of the Golden One each morning. As She scatters Her gold dust across the world-bringing light, creating form-I release my breath to Her in relieved sighs. I am Her servant. I serve the Great Goddess Isis. "Ise" is how we whisper Her holy name. I am called The First of Those Who See Her, for it is my privilege and duty to open Her shrine, unveil Her face, and make offering to Her each morning.

I know better than most how sweet it is to serve the Beautiful One with right offerings. While Isfet is still trembling at the edges of the world, I rise and make my purifications. My body, which will perform the ritual, is made pure with water. My mouth, which will speak the words of power, is made pure with natron. It is salty, and if I have much to purify, it sometimes makes me gag. When I am cleansed, I put on the white linen and white sandals and walk through the night-cooled corridors of the temple toward Her closed shrine. The cooks, the bakers, the butchers have already been at work. They have prepared Her morning feast.

The Pure Ones, the Wab priests and priestesses, have placed it in the Hall of Offerings, and even now they chant for Her. The sistra of the priestesses rattle softly as I pass through the Hall of Offerings to finally stand before the closed doors of Her shrine. Into the darkness before that sacred place, I speak the words that avert evil so that I may approach, giving no offense and receiving no harm. I break the clay seal. I draw back the bolt, but I do not yet open the doors. First I must offer incense to Her Eye, the fierce and fiery Serpent Goddess Who guards the Great One-another of Isis'' kheperu, Her forms. When that Fierce One has taken Her pleasure and been pacified by the incense and the words of my mouth, I open the doors. Heaven and Earth open before me! On my knees, I enter Her shrine, offering incense.

The sweet smoke rises into the still air to encircle the Iset Weret, the Great Seat or Throne of the Goddess, Her innermost holy place. My heart remembers one of the Mysteries of my temple: Isis is both She Who is Upon Her Throne, and also the Throne itself, for that is the very meaning of Her name. Isis is All Things; it is a great secret that I know as I prostrate myself before the Goddess Throne. I kiss the ground. My belly touches the Earth before Her. I speak the Adoration of the Goddess with all my heart. As they do every morning that I wear the white sandals to serve my Goddess, tears blur the vision of my eyes when I lift the Goddess'' veil to look upon Her beautiful face. Isis is alive in Her sacred image.

The Goddess is at home in Her temple. I can feel Her magic vibrate within the shrine. Her ka speaks to mine. I bid Her peace in awakening. In Her presence, I purify the food offerings with water and with incense. I name what we have prepared for Her. She smiles at me with golden lips. I am now privileged to touch Her image.

I take Her sacred body from the Great Throne into the shrine chamber. I wipe away yesterday''s unguent, She having received its ka. With the little finger of my right hand, with my gentle finger, I anoint the uraeus upon Her brow anew with Eye of Horus Oil. It makes Her limbs whole. It destroys evil like the strong talons of Her falcon child. I remove the linen cloths placed upon Her image the day before. They will be taken away and washed. With Her unclothed image before me, I adore Her four times.

I feel tender toward the Goddess Whose body I touch. I speak only truth before Her. My adorations are never rote. I speak heart-words to my Goddess. As I reclothe Her in fresh linens-the white, the green, and the red-I purify with natron between each dressing. I purify again with water and incense. I circle Her image four times before returning it to its seat. Once more upon Her Great Throne, Isis receives Her ornaments and implements of power.

I place them upon Her body. I offer Her precious unguents, full of strength. I take up pure sand, and with ancient and holy words, I pour it out before Her. It grits beneath my white sandals as I enfold Her image, first in the white head cloth, then in the Great Cloth. Now She is veiled once more in the protection of the Weaving Goddesses, Who spin magic into linen. Again I offer incense and circle Her living image four times. I take up the bundle of heden plants. As I back out of the shrine, I use them to sweep the sand clean, obliterating my footprints and returning the holy place to its primordial perfection.

I close the doors, bolt them. Outside, I offer incense upon the brazier and circle the room four times, speaking protections. By the time the rite is complete, the sun is high above the horizon. Day has come. Isfet is banished. The face of Isis shines like molten gold as She smiles upon Egypt. I am content. Offering and Relationship Human beings have always made offering to their Deities.

Many have also honored their dead with offerings, as the ancient Egyptians did. Our ancestors offered the choicest cut of meat to the Great Hunter Who had helped them in their hunt. They gave the first handful of ripe berries to the Wild Mother Who had guided them to the mouth-watering cache. They shared their holy days and good fortune by offering feasts to their dead. They filled temples with sumptuous meals and beautiful scents for the Goddesses and Gods. They created art in enduring stone and precious metals and offered it to the Divine Houses. Many of us continue to make offering today. Some Christian church members tithe, giving offerings to support the work of their church.

Hindu devotees offer daily puja to their Deities. Tibetan Buddhists make offering of fire and pure water. Neo-Pagans offer fresh flowers and incense on the altars of their Goddesses and Gods. Artists of all faiths still create in the name of the Divine and offer their creations back to their Divine inspirers. It seems that there is an inborn impulse in us to make offering. One modern example of that impulse concerns the Seattle Troll. Large enough to hold a VW Beetle in one hand, staring out of a single, glassy eye, the Seattle Troll lives beneath the Aurora Bridge in Seattle''s Fremont neighborhood. He was originally a work of art funded by the city, but he has become something more.

He has become a "Work of Art" and now receives offerings from passersby and neighborhood residents. The day I visited-not a special day, just a weekday like any other-the Troll was supplied with an amazing array of offerings. There were fresh flowers, smoked almonds, jewelry, coins, jams, a bag of ripe cherries, a whole watermelon, a bright pink-orange slab of raw salmon, a whole Dungeness crab, a bar of soap, a pack of cigarettes, two coffee mugs, and two t-shirts. These offerings were fresh, too-the flowers and food as yet unwilted. At first, it looked like someone had temporarily left their picnic, but no. The votives were carefully arranged upon the enormous hands of the Troll. They were clearly presented, and no picnickers were to be found. The items were offerings, nothing less.

The fact that people expend their energy, time, and money in making offering to the Troll is surely one of the things that has made him come alive. The vivified Troll now serves as a focus for the neighborhood, celebrating with residents during local festivals like "Trolloween," and lamenting with them in tragedy. After a particularly terrible bus accident in the area, a large tear appeared beneath the eye of the Troll. I doubt that any of those who offer to the Troll see him as a Deity-at most, he''s a quirky neighborhood spirit. Yet, people leave offerings just the same. Perhaps it''s because when we make offering, we are seeking relationship. In the case of the Troll, perhaps we seek connection with the progressive spirit of the neighborhood. Maybe the Troll''s mere existence gives us a chuckle and we offer a gift of thanks, connecting with those who share our amusement, or with the Troll''s artist-creators.

If we participate in the Trolloween festival, we come into relationship with other revelers. In a spiritual context, making offering can be a joyful sharing of blessings with the Deity or spirits with whom we have or seek a relationship. As an act of gift-giving, offering is a universal way to create the sweet bonds of interconnection and ongoing reciprocity between giver and receiver. Offering encourages generosity in the giver. Some Tibetan Buddhists say that it is this growing generosity in ourselves that pleases the Deities, rather than the actual offerings. Offering can be a meditation, a prayer, a way to honor tradition, an act of devotion, a method of giving thanks, a path to.