Tag Archives: spiritual abuse

Books, Paganism, Religion, Spiritual Development, Witchcraft

Let’s talk about “An Apostate’s Guide to Witchcraft” by Moss Matthey

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[Content Note: Brief references to of cults, homophobia, self-hatred, and authoritarian control.]

Happy Monday, dear readers! I thought I’d take a brief break from my polytheology series to talk about a book I recently finished reading. That book is An Apostate’s Guide to Witchcraft: Finding Freedom Through Magic by Moss Matthey. In it, Matthey describes his own experiences leaving the cult he was raised in and finding a home in witchcraft. Along the way, he shares a bit about his own witchcraft practice and offers advice and simple exercises to those readers who might be interested in exploring whether witchcraft might be something they’re drawn to.

In a lot of ways, I found a lot of Matthey’s story relatable. After all, we are both gay men1 who grew up in fairly conservative Christian church2 that essentially taught us to hate ourselves. We both eventually found freedom in our respective witchcraft practices, which bear some unsurprising similarities.

One of the things that I appreciated about Matthey’s approach to the subject was that he was quite clear that he had no interest in spending a great deal of time dissecting the beliefs of “the cult”,3 setting these goals for the book instead:

Through these pages I will introduce you to a world of magic and spirits, where queerness is celebrated and sin does not exist. I will tell you how I left a cult and the lessons I learned along the way. Culture and community will be celebrated through folklore, myth, and folk magic. We may even take a detour into theology and philosophy, though hopefully it won’t be too boring. Above all, we will celebrate the joy and freedom of Witchcraft.

I think he accomplished those goals quite well. I cannot recommend this book enough for those who are coming out of any religion that asserted any degree of authoritarian control. I think those who, like Matthey and myself, experienced abuse and/or trauma due to their sexuality or gender will find it particularly helpful. And if a handful of people read it and find a home in witchcraft, all the better.

Another reason that this book holds special meaning for me is that I think it diversifies the stories available to those deconstructing. I often get the sense that the stories available — both those published in books and those shared less formally — tend to come from who have either found a way to remain in Christianity (albeit a more progressive form) or those who have walked away from religion altogether. While I think both of those trajectories are valid for those who find comfort and healing in them, I don’t think they are the only trajectories available. Also, I feel that the fact that those two trajectories get the lion’s share of the attention means that deconstruction discourse still often focuses exclusively on Christian theologies and Christian understandings of the world. Combined with Changing Paths by Yvonne Aburrow, this book could help provide a needed correction to that.4

Post History: I wrote the first draft of this post on September 28, 2024. I proofread, revised, and finalized it on September 29, 2024.

Footnotes

  1. I want to point out that I’m using these words carefully when describing Matthey. In the book, he notes that he has started to prefer referring to himself as “queer” rather than “gay,” though he affirms the latter is an accurate description. He also notes that his understanding of his sexuality and gender continues to be more expansive. So while everything I’ve been able to find suggests his pronouns are still he/him and it’s okay to refer to him as a man, I want to draw your attention to all this just in case I missed something and am unintentionally misgendering him here. ↩︎
  2. I will note that I don’t feel that my church exerted quite the same degree of control over its members as the cult Matthey belonged to (the Jehovah’s Witnesses) tends to. For example, my family was not instructed to shun me at any time. But that’s the interesting thing you learn when you study cults: There are different degrees of cult behavior, and my church was “bad enough.” For more information on cults, I would recommend Cultish by Amanda Montell in addition to the books by Steven Hassan that Matthey recommends. I will note that I haven’t read any of Hassan’s books, but have looked over his BITE Model of Authoritarian Control (which Matthey also mentions) in the past and consider it an invaluable tool. ↩︎
  3. Matthey only mentions the Jehovah’s Witnesses by name once in the entire book. The rest of the time, he simply refers to it as “the cult.” I’m not sure if this was his reasoning personally, but there are traditions of witchcraft that hold that naming something gives it power, so it is often better to not say the name of those who are a disruptive influence. Again, I don’t know if that motivated Matthey’s choice about how he chose to refer to his former cult in the book, but I think there’s a certain amount of wisdom in that line of reasoning. ↩︎
  4. Of course, once Yvonne’s upcoming book, Pagan Roots, is released at the beginning of next year, I think all three books would make a powerful trio. ↩︎
Books, Religion

TV p. 8: Power vs. Power

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Note about page numbers:  I’m using an iBook copy of this book.  With iBook (and I believe most electronic books work this way), the book repaginates based on your font settings.  As such, I’m not sure how useful it will be to give page numbers.  For anyone who wants to know, I’m reading my iPad in portrait mode using the smallest font size, with a font setting of Palatino.  That’s how I come by the page numbers I list in the post titles.

Peretti starts “The Visitation” with a very short prologue.[1]  This prologue starts out describing what one might first think of as the crucifixion of Jesus himself.  Peretti describes the ringing of hammer against nail and the crunching of bone beneath said nail.  He then describes the young man as he hangs there beneath the scorching sun.

He cried out, but God did not listen.  It could have been God who drove the nails, then put his hammer down and turned away, smiling in victory.  It could have been God who left him to bake and bleed in the sun, unable to stand, unable to fall, as the sun marked the passing hours across the cloudless sky.

We can glean from this passage that the young man is likely from a religious background.  Contrary to what the “non-Christians hate Jesus crowd” might thing, the nonreligious – especially those who were nonreligious from the day they were born – do not face adversity and think that God has abandoned them, let alone that God is the likely cause of their adversity.

No, a young man has to believe in God – or at least be brought up to believe in God – to believe that it was God Himself who crucified him.

This is confirmed as the young man reflects on the accusations of his tormentors:

“You’re a child of the devil,” they said.  A child of the devil who needed to be contained.

So the people who crucified this young man are devoutly religious and believe they are authorized – presumably by God Himself – to determine who is God’s own chosen and who is a child of the devil.  Not only that, they feel duly authorized to do what must be done to “contain” those who fall into the latter category, even if it means crucifying that person and leaving zir for dead in the scorching heat.

When I volunteered at a summer day camp for Child Evangelism Fellowship, the leaders always cautioned us to choose our words carefully when disciplining the children in our care.  They warned us that we should refrain from telling a child that zie is “bad.”  The leaders explained that this often created a self-reinforcing message to the child, which would just as likely result in more bad behavior than encouraging good behavior.  We were encouraged to point out that the child was precious and valuable, and even good, but was engaging in bad behavior.  Bad behavior by good children was correctable after all.  What’s more, it made it worth correcting the good behavior.

If I had ever told a child that they were the spawn of Satan himself, I suspect that the CEF leadership would have asked me to leave and never come back.  Had I ever told a child such a thing while driving nails into their wrist so they could hang their in agony while dying, I should hope they would have called the police on me.

What has happened to this young man is monstrous beyond measure.  Not only has he been involved in a religious group that feels justified in declaring him irredeemably evil, but they have placed final judgment on him on God’s behalf, leaving him to die in misery.  This young man, whoever he is deserves our sympathy.  He deserves our compassion.  He deserves mercy and relief from his torment.

I find that interesting that as the prologue continues, the young man finds relief from his torment, but without any mention of mercy:

He cried out once again, and this time, a voice, a mind, answered and a power coursed through him.  Suddenly, he could bear the pain and make it fuel for his will.  With burning will, he determined he would live.

Power.  He does not find mercy, but power.  Power to survive according to his own will.  Power provided by some unknown source.

Of course, he has already had one brush with power.  Those who hung him by nails that tore through his flesh and bone and left him to die had power to.  They used their power to abuse and hurt him.  To them, power was something to torment and “contain” those they deemed unfit for life.

So one might wonder, how one who has been abused by the powerful might react when he finds not saving mercy from others, but power to save himself.  Power that he now can wield.  One might wonder what he might do with that power, power that still knows nothing of mercy.

Whether this young man becomes a just protagonist or a monster modeled after his own tormentors and the brutal lessons they taught him, this moment makes him a rather sympathetic character in my eyes.

Notes:
[1]  Actually, there is an introduction before the prologue.  However, given that the introduction is a brief discussion of his own thoughts, I chose to skip over them and move right into the fictional narrative.

Rants, Religion, Society

Religiously Empowered Extortion

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Tracie sent me the link to a story that I can only describe as religiously aided extortion:

Madhya Pradesh urban administration and development minister Narottam Mishra has directed officials to probe the social boycott of 20 families in Betul district for allegedly practising witchcraft. Each family has been asked to pay a penalty of Rs.10,000 to ‘get back to the society’.

Now, I susppose that being shunned until they pay the penalty is arguably better than being executed, as sometimes happens to “child witches” in Africa. However, one must wonder (and not being familiar with this part of the world, I have no point of reference to even offer a guess) how many of these families even have the Rs.10,000 being demanded of them, let alone the ability to part with the money and still feed and clothe themselves.

I think what particularly disturbs me about this story is that these families were “found out” through a baba performing a ritual designed to discover witches. So the baba fingers these families and now they’re on the hook. I mean, what if the baba got it wrong — or worse, is lying because of a personal vendetta? Do these families have any recourse? Or does being ritually “discovered” trump all forms of reason and/or evidence? If that’s the case, then I see a potential racket!

Religion

Courage breeds ferocity

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I haven’t been posting much lately due to being ill for the past week. However, to give all my readers something to check out, I decided to post another link. Besides, it’s a good follow-up. Some of you may remember the link I posted to Matt Hill Comer’s blog entry about returning to his childhood church. Well, recently, he received a comment from another member of that church. Matt made a public reply, and it’s well worth reading. The strength of his response is astounding, not to mention well merited (in my opinion at least).

As I commented on Matt’s entry, it amazes me how some evangelical and fundamentalist Christians have abstracted the concept of love to such a degree that they can justify just about any behavior or attitude they might have about people they see as “sinners.” If that’s love, I can’t say as it’s worth very much.