How do you feel about veneration/genuflection? If you do honor Lucifer/Satan what kind of offerings do you do? Why?
I’m going to answer the second part of this question first, because it’s easier answered. I give whatever offerings would be suitable as both a gift to him, and a method of self-improvement for myself: the energy built up from an evening run, the knowledge gained from an elected course of study, etc. I also sacrifice those things which I’d be better off without in his name–I’ll pour out that sugary drink I bought on a whim, give up those lazy Saturday mornings for something more productive, things like that.
As to my feelings in regards to veneration and genuflection, that answer is more complicated. Veneration as I understand it refers to showing respect and admiration, which I very much try to show towards my god.
Genuflection, on the other hand, is deemed as a form of worship by both my god and myself. It is not allowed in my practice, but that doesn’t mean I respect it any less–quite the opposite, really.
There are honorifics and titles I cannot speak, even if I believe he is deserving of them. My teeth snap closed before these honey-coated names can slip past my lips, as I know that they bring him no joy. They are mine to guard and keep, knowing that one day they will wind themselves around my heart and fill my lungs until I’m drowning in them.
My knees are held still and straight only because he asks it of me. His glory is a heavy weight that beckons me to kneel and bow my head–and each time I am reminded of my love for him, this weight increases tenfold.
I am so utterly exhausted from resisting. There was a time when I considered the idea that perhaps giving in would be a form of rebellion born out of love, not unlike that which my god was exiled for. I thought that my worship of him could not be anything less than sacred, despite his insistence that it would be akin to spitting at his feet.
I learned the hard way.
Still now, whenever I feel my knees begin to buckle beneath me, or those words begin to bleed from my mouth, he asks if my devotion to him is greater than my need to worship–as if these things were not one and the same.
And I’ve come to realize that they’re not–not to me, anyways. Ultimately, worship would serve as nothing except as a comfort to me–a submission that I have not earned, and that he does not want.
So I continue to stand and hold my tongue, and envy those who do not have to.