Skyclad.
Clad only by the sky (or, as would be said in the South, "buck nekkid") - referring to nudity in spiritual ceremonies, chiefly (though not exclusively) among Pagan/Wiccan groups.
The term is believed to have filtered into the English language from the Sanskrit dig-ambara ("sky-clothed"), used by Hindus to describe naked mystics. Gerald Gardner, the main force behind popularizing Neo-Paganism in England in the 50's, had studied Eastern religions and spent a great deal of time in India, Ceylon and Burma, and may have picked up the idea (and the word) from those naked mystics (including the Digambar sect of the Jains). On the other hand, the idea, if not the term, is at least hinted at in the 1899 book Aradia which, like Gardner's work, claimed evidence of an underground, pre-Christian religion in Europe - and certainly Roman and Greek religious life involved nudity, so the idea has a long pedigree in the West, as well.
But is it necessary for the modern Pagan? Is it preferable? Practical? How much or how little should nudity be a part of our religious life? And we decide against it, what should we be wearing?
Read on . . .
Advocates say worshipping skyclad puts you closer to nature - no small thing in a nature-based religion. Similarly, Hindu holy men that go dig-ambara are said to be "wearing the environment around them", the Akasha. Flipping the general message of Western civilization about nudity, they see it as a sign of connection, rather than vulnerability. Going naked removes the barriers we put between ourselves and the larger world, both its physical and spiritual aspects.
And for some, that shedding in itself has power - worshipping skyclad is a change of state from daily life, separating you from the work-a-day world and creating in your mind the idea that this bit of time is special. In that sense, nude worship creates the same effect as the chasuble worn by Roman Catholic priests for the Eucharist, or the henna worn by some women for celebrations - a sacred state, for a sacred event.
And for those who worship in groups, being skyclad is said to create a stronger bond. If clothes make the man (or woman), then there's nothing more equalizing than nudity. It also shows, clearly, that you have nothing to hide - the mere fact that you're all comfortable enough to be naked together demonstrates, as the saying goes, "perfect love and perfect trust".
Which leads right into the first issue with being nude in ritual: "do you trust everyone you're with"?
I would hope no one would get naked in a ritual that involves a skeevy guy who drives a rape van. But with the obvious potential for abuse of the practice, worshipping skyclad should be reserved for safe environments with people you know, or where your friends outnumber your guests - if you allow guests at all. Know, as best you can, that everyone in the group is participating for the right reasons, and no one should ever be pressured into getting naked.
Rules about physical contanct, or whether not you allow visitors (and under what conditions), or if you'd ever allow photos/video (and under what conditions) should also be established and well-known. The point of being skyclad in a group, remember, is trust and openness, and if you're not 110% sure you have those with everyone around you, it's defeating the purpose - so keep your clothes on.
But even when you have that kind of trust, there's the issue of just plain awkwardness. Like it or not, we are products of a culture that holds nudity in disdain. We're taught to associate it with sex, yes - and that, in turn, with immorality - but also, as I've already said, the West associates it with vulnerability.
You know that dream? The one where you walk into class or work or the mall and realize you're naked? That's what I mean - nudity = insecurity, guilt, humiliation. The naked dream is the fundamental expression of our collective cultural baggage.
But it's no Jungian constant. Its power is inversely proportional to a society's hangups about nudity. In cultures that tolerate it - or even embrace it, like the Yanomami tribe of Brazil - the naked dream would be meaningless.
Yanomami 1: "I dreamed last night I walked into the middle of camp naked."
Yanomami 2: "You mean, like you did just now?"
But for those of us who grew up in a culture that tells us that suddenly realizing you're naked in the middle of your sister's rehearsal dinner is the pinnacle of terror, getting comfortable with being naked in a group - or just in a group where others are naked - can be tough. You can have perfect trust in spades, but if you can't help but be distracted by the way the High Priest's other wand moves when he calls the quarters, or spend all your focus on not looking at this or that, nudity can be more of a distraction from spirituality than an expression of it.
The next big issue about nude worship is privacy.
Like I said, our culture looks down on public nudity - and by extension, looks down on the publicly naked. By normal Western standards, the only people who get naked in public are perverts, weirdo activists and the blindingly intoxicated.
Not many Pagans have access to truly private outdoor sites - and if you're not private enough, all it takes is a passing sheriff's deputy or a nosy neighbor for a spiritual experience to devolve into complaints, citations and maybe even arrests.
Private gatherings, however remote, can become grist for the rumor mill. The idea that group nudity is going on - or even might be going on - tends to conjure up all manner of lewd images in the minds of outsiders. The word "orgy" gets thrown around a lot. Being openly Pagan can be rough in itself, in many places. Being openly Pagan and suspected of having gatherings that look like the second reel of Caligula just opens you up to a whole new level of "not welcome".
And that's not even touching on the voyeurs out there, who can follow those sorts of rumors like a bloodhound.
Simply put, if you're going skyclad, do it somewhere adequately private - and make sure it stays that way.
Lastly, you have to think about the elements.
Most people wouldn't want to celebrate Yule (Dec 22nd) in a field outside Ledyard, Connecticut wearing nothing but galoshes, unless you're in a coven of polar bears. Likewise, if you did Midsummer in Lousiana, you'd want to stay away from those areas of the state that are close to big bodies of skeeter-generating water (the part of the state highlighted here). Our ancestors starting wearing clothes for a reason, and that wasn't all about modesty. Bear that in mind when you're considering nude worship as an option.
Of course, having rituals indoors solves a lot of these problems - but for me, going naked to get back to nature, and then having ritual inside four walls with your toes gripping carpet just seems to defeat the purpose. On the other hand, I'm not much for indoor rituals in the best of circumstances, so take that for what it is. Truth is, a proper sacred space, indoors or out, should be just as suitable for the skyclad as for the clothed, as you choose.
Which gets to the next question - what if you choose to not be skyclad?
Many faiths have the concept of strictly religious garments or decoration - my earlier examples just scratching the surface. It's the idea of something different for sacred events, separating yourself from the mundane world. For some, nudity is that something different - but there are other options.
A "ritual outfit" - from a normal shirt/pant combo or dress that you reserve for ritual, up to and including custom-made ceremonial robes - can convey that same sense of specialness. Whether you just hang it in a closet with everything else, or hand-wash it separately and fold it away in a special box after saging it, keeping specific ritual clothes helps some people get to that "out-of-the-everyday" feeling and is a boost for "tuning in" to ritual.
Decoration or jewelry is another option. Body or face paint, a particular pendant, even such accessories as a floral wreath or set of antlers (like this, not like this) can help you get into the right mindset as much as a set of special clothes.
Myself, I've always been more or less a street-clothes Pagan. I have a pair of black mocassin boots I only wear at ritual, but that's more because they're nice and I don't have any other time to wear them. And they're really comfortable. And seem, I don't know, magick-y. Maybe it's the Renn Fair feel of them.
I wear solid color shirts - I'm not going to do ritual in my "It's all fun and games until the flying monkeys attack" T-Shirt - in an appropriate color for the season or the ritual. I usually wear jeans.
I'm not alone - I've known Pagans of all kinds whose ritual clothing varied from jeans and a T (not always without something funny on it) to dressier everyday clothes to fleece loungewear (yes, fleece loungewear - it's warm and comfy).
The bottom line: there is no right answer. Don't wear things (or not wear things) because you think you're supposed to, or it's more "correct". The only "correct" is what helps you feel comfortable, secure, and connected to the sacred within your ritual. Don't let the accoutrements overshadow the substance. Just find what works for you, then go with it - the result will be someone confident, focused and truly present in that moment of the sacred.
And that's what the gods really want to see.