The faith also has a global footprint. It’s taken on various forms as it’s spread to about 100 countries, with an estimated following in the tens of thousands. Yet there’s a certain fragility at its core. As the modern iteration of pre-Christian pagan worship, Ásatrú is a very young religion. And it’s less a single codified religion than a loose cluster of religions: It has no central authority or agreed-upon dogma. Although many followers cherish this ideological openness, it may leave the religion vulnerable to misappropriation.

It was partly to address this concern that a group of heathens convened last month in Germany. Their international conference, Frith Forge, invited inclusive heathens to discuss the urgent questions facing their faith: What do we do about the minority of heathens on the extreme-right fringe who embrace racist ideas? What do we do about the larger number of racists who don’t practice the religion but do co-opt its symbols? Can we reconcile inclusion with ethnic pride? Do we need to create a new theology?

For Karl Seigfried, an adjunct professor at Illinois Institute of Technology who is also a goði (priest) of an inclusive Ásatrú group in Chicago, the answer to that last question is a resounding yes. At the conference, he gave a scholarly rundown of existing Ásatrú writings before issuing a personal request: He wants people to write original theological essays, which he’ll edit and compile into the first international anthology of the public theology of heathenry. Each essay will identify a contemporary issue, discuss it through the lens of heathen myths, and suggest a solution based on heathen ideals.

Asked if he’s trying to make Ásatrú theology “racist-proof,” the way certain French imams are trying to craft a “preventive theology” that will make Islam resistant to being coopted by fundamentalists, Seigfried said he doesn’t think that’s possible. “If someone wants to go spelunking for mythological justifications of ethnic superiority, they’ll hit pay dirt in the texts of almost any religious tradition,” he told me by email. “Those who seek validation for hateful views will always manage to find some passage they can interpret in a way that justifies their bigotry.”

But Seigfried doesn’t want to let the racists set the parameters for how the heathen religion or its symbols get discussed in the media and construed by the broader public. His strategy is to expand and enrich Ásatrú theology so that it tackles many contemporary issues, demonstrating its wide-ranging relevance. He takes inspiration from the social-justice-oriented Catholic theologians of Latin America who created Liberation Theology in the 1950s and 1960s.

“We often say that we are a world-affirming religion, so maybe it’s time that we turn to the world and address the issues that face us today,” he said. “What do heathens think about reproductive rights? The role of government? Climate change? Gender identity? … We will never be included in the greater public discussion if we don’t first step forward and put our ideas on the table.”