Now we turn to how these clans sustained their representative governments through the hierarchy of the clan system. We begin with the House, or Hús, which corresponds to the immediate family. In ancient times, the Húsþing was a small council or assembly held by a king, jarl, or family-head (hǫfðingi) with his household or guards. We can adapt this to the following: by establishing a weekly meeting with your family, with a genuine agenda to discuss your place within the clans and tribes, you can begin to form a structured entity that builds actual influence. Modern governments tremble at the notion of clans reemerging, which is why they incessantly tout “national unity” as propaganda, urging people to reject the one system capable of restoring their power. Until we recognize this, the Machiavellian apparatus that perpetuates your subjugation will remain. You can trust your family far more than any goblin in a suit who claims to have your best interests at heart while gorging himself on the national coffers.
After the Húsþing comes the Ættarsþing, or “Þing of the Clans,” traditionally referred to as a Fylkisþing (“District-Þing”). For our purposes, we aim to establish a framework whereby our clans can join forces and craft something viable in the modern era. A clan is essentially a collection of households, each headed by a representative. The earliest records regarding the timing and function of this Þing appear in Germania, where Tacitus describes how such assemblies took shape.
Upon minor matters the chiefs deliberate; upon greater matters the general assembly, with the reservation that, in the latter case, where the popular vote settles the question, these matters, too, must be thoroughly debated at a meeting of the chiefs. The general assembly is held regularly on fixed days (except in the instance of a sudden emergency arising) either at new or at full moon, for they hold these times to be the most auspicious date for entering upon their discussions. They reckon time by nights instead of by days as we do, and all their engagements and arrangements are made on this system; the day is counted in with the previous night. Their perfect independence of one another involves this drawback, that they never reach their trysting-place together nor obey the conditions of their summons, but two or three days are always wasted by the unpunctuality of the late comers. When the general opinion is that the time has come to begin, they all take their seats, arms in hand. Silence is commanded by the priests, on whom now devolves the task of maintaining order. Then the king or a chief, according to the speaker’s age or rank or fame or eloquence, is heard by the assembly; but he is listened to rather as a man whose influential character carries weight than as one who has the power to command. If the proposal finds no favor, its rejection is signified by groaning; if it is accepted, the warriors clash their spears. Approval expressed by the clashing of arms is the form of assent held in the highest honor.
Thus, one can choose to hold the monthly Clan-Þing either at the new moon or the full moon, acknowledging the historical precedent for such gatherings and constructing a framework around these lunar phases, which are expressly noted as marking the time for meetings. During these assemblies, the clan addresses matters impacting every family within their union and deliberates on the various legal concerns affecting the broader community.
Finally, we have the national Þing, an institution still existing in Scandinavian nations today. There is the Icelandic Alþing (“All-Thing”), the Danish Folketing (“Folk-Thing”), and the Norwegian (“Great Thing”), all serving as parliamentary bodies. Some have functioned as republics, while others remain under monarchs; nonetheless, they facilitate representative government and uphold a balance of power. Because we aim to revive our ancient Heathen faith for the present day, it seems appropriate to establish a general Þing to embody this reconstruction. Recognizing our primordial heritage under Heimdallr’s guidance, we find it fitting to invoke his name in this renewal and preserve it for future generations. Hence, we call our general Þing Rígsþing, “The Þing of Rígr,” referencing the name he bore when he first visited humankind at the dawn of our civilization.
Excerpt from: Æfinlǫgr: The Book of Sedian Law: Puryear, Mark, Hrafnakonr, Aðakán Jamesarson: 9798307965320: Amazon.com: Books