Witchcraft Movie Corner: Practical Magic

When I asked people if there were any particular movies that they wanted me to cover in the Witchcraft Movie Corner, Twitter user the life shantastic suggested I cover the 1998 movie Practical Magic. As someone who both loves that movie and is an eternal Sandra Bullock fan, how could I say no? Plus, it seems like it would be rude for me to refuse the suggestion from the only person who has recommended a movie as of the time I’m writing this post. So late Monday afternoon, I checked to see if any of the streaming services were offering it and fired up a browser to head over to Hulu.

One of the things that I love about this movie is that not only does it portray witches in a positive light (I’d be hard pressed to think of an earlier movie that did so), but did not focus on witchcraft as a way to get power. Neither Sally, Gillian, nor their aunts seem to be obsessed with power. So while the movie falls into other tropes — or at least comes close to doing so in some cases — it avoids being a cautionary tale about seeking power. (As an example of a trope ti does play into, the movie seems to play into the trope that witchcraft is a “gift” that is somehow inherited rather than simply something one can learn through practice.)

I also like some of the subtle ways in which the movie portrays Sally and her family using witchcraft. For example, Sally seems to stir her drink multiple times throughout the movie using telekinesis. And while I personally have serious doubt about whether telekinesis is real, I appreciate that the movie portrayed such non-showy examples of supernatural magic. It was not a movie of pure spectacle, in my opinion.

Speaking of subtle bits of supernatural magic, I particularly love the scenes where Sally would ignite a candle while blowing on its wick. While this was once again a more subtle and non-showy example of supernatural magic, I also found it interesting in light of one of the things I learned about candles.

For those not aware of it, according to some witchcraft traditions, one should not blow a candle used in magic (or other ritual) out. Instead, such traditions recommend snuffing candles out. While a number of reasons might be given for this, I was taught that for at least some traditions, this is rooted in Kabbalistic thought that says that breath is the source of life. According to these traditions, the thought of using the breath/source of life to extinguish a flame is unthinkable. I don’t know if it was intentional, but these scenes in the movie suggested a tribute to that line of thinking, having their witch use the breath/source of life to ignite the flame instead.

I similarly liked the way the brooms were used, not only to sweep Jimmy’s spirit out of the house at the end, but when it falls over indicating a visitor (and one that was unwanted) is about to arrive. This struck me as a nod to the use of brooms to guard against negative energy and even negative beings. Having the broom topple seemed to me that it was overwhelmed by the negativity.

Another theme I found interesting is other people’s reactions to witchcraft. I love that early in the movie, one of the aunts tells Sally and Gillian, “People don’t hate us. We just make them nervous.” This is something I’ve talked about before, how even in pre-Christian times, there’s evidence that witches weren’t always trusted. And why wouldn’t we be? And yet, the movie also points out the flip side of that reality: People may not trust witches, but they still may want the help of witches on occasion. This is best displayed by the woman on the island who comes to the aunts for a love spell.

This nuance continued on later when Gary starts interviewing the other people in town. Some of the rumors he here’s about the Owens women are wild and even border on slanderous. And yet, other people have sympathetic and even downright kind things to say about them. So the complexity and nuance in which the opinion of this family of witches was viewed was a nice change of pace from outright vilification or utter idolization.

Let me turn now to “the curse” and young Sally’s true love spell. I found the idea of a self-imposed curse upon the family a rather interesting one. First, it escapes the trope of witches cursing others.1 It should also be noted that the aunts seem to suggest that the curse wasn’t really meant to be a curse, but turned into one. This is the first introduction of the idea that magic can go in ways the person who set it in motion did not intend, which is another theme that gets touched upon throughout the movie. Including with young Sally’s love spell.

I will note that I always found Sally’s love spell odd. Perhaps it would make sense to a young girl, but her logic of avoiding love by making a spell to call up someone who “couldn’t possibly exist” just seems weak. The movie even makes this point by having the spell fail twice: First when Sally falls in love with Michael despite him not being her “true love” from the spell and then when the spell manages to summon the “impossible man” in Gary.

Speaking of Michael, the aunt’s foolishness in casting that love spell is one of the few instances where I question their wisdom. When they confess what they had done to Sally, one of them says, “We never expected you would truly love him.” I just don’t get how two allegedly wise women with serious witchcraft experience would never consider that this is a real possible outcome when you “push someone” to open themselves up to the possibility of a relationship. Sloppy thinking, ladies!

Where I do appreciate the aunts’ wisdom is when they leave for a while so that Sally and Gillian can learn a hard yet much needed lesson. And yet, before they go, they take care to protect Sally’s children. To me, that’s a realization that Sally’s and Gillian’s choices could have consequences for others and the aunts acknowledge their responsibility to prevent or at least mitigate that.

Beyond that, there are just a number of quotes that I loved in the movie. I may not produce them verbatim (so beware repeating them lest I end up starting some sort of Practical Magic Mandela effect), but these are all capture their essence:

  • “Being normal is not a virtue. In fact, it shows a lack of courage.”
  • “So you’re drugging you’re boyfriend to get a little shut-eye?” Gillian definitely should have payed attention to the red flag there.
  • “You’d think after three hundred years, they’d come up with a better rhyme!” Sally’s commentary on the accusations of the people outside her shop was so spot on.
  • “Fine, but I don’t want them dancing naked under the full moon.” I just love that they worked a mention of ritual nudity into the movie without making it a huge deal. And the aunt pointing out that the nudity is entirely optional was a perfect response.
  • “Since when was being a slut a bad thing in this family?”
  • “Magic isn’t just spells and potions.” I really want this one on a tee shirt.
  • “You can’t practice witchcraft while you look down your nose at it.” I feel like this is another one worthy of a tee shirt.

If there’s a witchcraft or other occult-themed movie you’d like me to watch and comment on, mention it in a comment. Or use the contact page to send me an email about it.


1Okay, technically, the curse seems to be on the men who fall in love with the women in the family However, it’s a curse that clearly hurts those women as well. So I’d still argue it’s technically a curse imposed upon the witches themselves.

Witchcraft Movie Corner: The Craft and The Craft: Legacy

As it’s Halloween time, Joe and I have been watching horror and occult themed movies. This past week, we re-watched both the 1996 movie “The Craft” and the 2020 sequel, “The Craft: Legacy.” I enjoy watching both of these movies, I find them rather entertaining. I also find myself having a lot of thoughts about both movies as a witch. This post will be my scattershot attempt to share at least some of those thoughts.

I won’t spend a lot of time talking about what details they got “wrong” or “right.” Sure, it annoys me that the refer to “calling the corners” in both movies rather than “calling the quarters.” But I think other people have discussed these most basic details they got wrong well enough.

There is some room to talk about how both movies seem to treat witchcraft as a monolith, making such claims as “you’re supposed to start in the east.” In reality, this depends on the witchcraft tradition. And some witchcraft traditions don’t even all the quarters. I think the important lesson here is that one shouldn’t turn to these movies or any other movie as an authority on what witchcraft is or how one should practice it. But this is not unique. I would not recommend turning to any movie as an authority on how to be a Christian or Buddhist either.

Personally, I think one of the most noteworthy thing about these movies is how they each portray the relationships between the four witches in each movie. In the original movie, the four young women turn adversarial and even hostile toward one another. I think this is partly because the first movie is your standard fare of “power corrupts and leads to bad things,” which even in 1996 seemed like a theme that had been overdone in horror/witchcraft movies.

And while we’re talking about that, can we just talk about all four witches in that movie seem pretty petty at times. Even Robin Tunney’s character seems pretty spiteful at times. The way she talks to Fairuza Balk’s character leading up to final fight seems pretty harsh to my ears. And then there is the final scene where she causes lightning to strike a tree branch, sending it nearly crashing down upon the two (now former) witches played by Neve Campbell and Rachel True. For what purpose? Just to prove to them that she still has “the power?” To give them a scare and a threat? In my experience, the truly great witches don’t feel a need to do that sort of thing. It’s disappointing that even the “good” witch seems to be a bit obsessed with “power.”

The sequel by contrast shows witches who are true companions that care deeply about one another. Even when the three witches are concerned that their friend is out of control and needs to be bound, they have the humility and self-reflection to see that they themselves have not been perfect. It also seems appropriate that they eventually reconcile and unite to defeat David Duchovny’s character in the end. Granted, the way Cailee Spany’s character tells him “it’s your turn to burn” feels a bit spiteful, but at least I can understand why she feels that way.

Another interesting difference between the two is that the first movie feels like “the Sarah show” in many ways. She is the witch that completes the coven. But she’s also the one who seems to have “real” power. She’s the one that teaches the other how to do glamours. And the movie seems to at least imply multiple times that the others have no power without her.

The sequel doesn’t seem to fall into this notion — at least not as badly. Yes, Lilly completes the coven and it’s not until she arrives that the other four witches really find their “power.” But it feels more like it still takes all four of them working together to accomplish many of their feats. Lilly doesn’t seem to be so much the leader or the teacher. The others are more integral to their efforts and the story rather than just being along for the ride.

Granted, Lilly is still clearly the main character. After all, much of the plot focuses on her discovery of witchcraft and conflict with Adam and the revelation of who her mother is at the end. But it still feels to me like the other three are important, even if they deserved a bit more character development and personal story arc.

There are just a few of my thoughts about this movie. In closing, I’d like to pose the one unresolved question I have about the movie (which has nothing to do with witchcraft).

What happened to Isaiah, Jacob, and Abe after their father disappeared (was killed)?

Pagan Ponderings: Old Gods, New Pantheons

Earlier today, I answered a question over on Quora which asked whether Pagans believed in more than one pantheon. I would like to duplicate part of that answer here.

The other thing that I will note is that in my opinion, “pantheons” are mostly a cultural construct. They’re the result of a bunch of cults to different gods existing in close proximity and their various members intermingling. In this sense the “Greek pantheon” is simply a collection of the various deities that the various people living in Greece (or more properly, the Greek city-states) worshiped. Eventually, people started trying to figure out how these various deities related to each other, and the myths explaining those relationships emerged.

I think that as the modern Pagan movement gains traction and maturity, we might see new pantheons emerge. That is, rather than merely talking about what culture a given deity originated, we will start inventing new stories to explain their relationships to the various other deities they find themselves co-existing with today.

I found this idea both fascinating and appealing. As I mentioned in my answer, I believe that pantheons are the result of different cults/religious groups that worship different deities living in proximity of one another. So why do we still think about ancient pantheons rather than the pantheons that might be forming in our own communities by virtues of which deities we each worship while living together?

And what about the more eclectic Pagans among us who tend to worship different deities who stem from different cultures? Does it not make sense to think of this disparate group as forming a sort of pantheon today? Perhaps even new myths about how Aphrodite and The Morrigan relate to one another and share a follower in common. In many ways,

I imagine the more strict reconstructionists are practically howling in rage at this idea. But some of us are much more innovative and are not as interested in maintaining some weird (and often illusory) sense of historicity. instead, we cherish the (again, sometimes illusory) historical roots, but take them in new directions. And this is okay.

For those of us who are so innovative, I think developing new pantheons and even myths explaining the wide variety of deities is a rational and natural development of our pagan traditions as they grow and mature. Such a thing might even be necessary for that growth and maturity. After all, it might help add some level of cohesion to the often scattered and disparate gods whose names get bandied about in an almost random-seeming manner.

Tilting at Windmills: A Christian raises the alarm about Paganism and the New Age Movement

Every now and then — and especially around this time of year — someone decides to write a news article about Paganism and witchcraft. On occasion, it’s just an informational peace, noting our existence as if we’re some sort of curiosity. On rare occasion, we even see an article by one of own that is pretty positive.

Sadly, there are also a considerable number of articles — typically written by Christians — that are critical and and even downright defamatory toward us. In this blog post, I will be taking a closer look at one such article. I should note that this particular article focuses primarily on the New Age movement and Paganism — also called Neopaganism in the article. It mentions witchcraft a few times, but does not substantially focus on it as a potentially separate identity. (After all, some Pagans are witches, but not all Pagans are witches nor are all witches Pagan.)

The article starts off by talking about how children often grew up seeing the image of witches as evil characters in folk tales and other literature, then moves on to the author learning later in life that some people identify as witches, “but they weren’t all that bad.” The italicization of “that” makes me smirk. Thank you, Emmy Griffin. You are too kind.

Griffin closes here first paragraph with the claim that “Neopaganism and New Age are trying to supplant Christianity in America.” What’s interesting me me is that this is the sudden switch from talking specifically talking about witches to talking about Neopaganism and the New Age. She uses the terms interchangeably as if they all mean the same thing. They do not, and this choice immediately leaves me wondering just how reliable her sources are.

What may be more interesting, however, is Griffin’s assertion that we are trying to supplant Christianity. I do not think that this is an accurate statement. In fact, I would argue that it is a matter of projection. The vast majority of Pagan religions — and the New Age movement as well — are non-proselytizing. We do not seek converts. This is not to say that we don’t welcome newcomers or those interested in joining us. But we are also perfectly happy to let people stick with whatever religion they wish to, or no religion at all. Instead, it is Christians who often seek to convert others and even hold the belief that everyone must convert or face the wrath of the Christian god as a central tenet of their religion. So what Griffin is expressing here is a fear that others will treat her the way she and her fellow Christians treat others.

There may be a second fear here, however. And that is the fear that Christianity — or at least her brand of that religion — cannot compete with Paganism and New Age religions and people will find the latter more preferable to her own faith. But surely the Pagans and the New Agers cannot be held responsible for her own religions failure to remain competetive in today’s spiritual marketplace.

Griffin spends the next paragraph giving statistics on what various people believe in various religions or are atheists, presumably to back up her claim that we’re all seeking to supplant Christianity rather than treating it as evidence that other religions and even nonreligious belief is more appealing than Christianity.

Weirdly, Griffin then takes a jab at Pagans and New Agers by invoking an old quote by G.K. Chesterton:

As Christian apologist G.K. Chesterton once said, “When men stop believing in God they don’t believe in nothing; they believe in anything.”

This quote reeks of Christian supremacy, suggesting that other belief systems in general and Paganism and New Age spirituality in particular are somehow inferior and for gullible people. It seems like a rather harsh and unfounded assessment on both Chesterton and Griffin. It demonstrates a sort of aggressive dismissiveness and condescension that likely does nothing to help attract people to her own religion.

Griffin then goes on to give her explanation of what Paganism and the New Age movement is, citing an LA Progressive article as her source. This is an interesting choice because Bruce Larro, the author of that article, does not himself seem to be part of either movement. To Larro’s credit, his own research on both movements included looking into the actual words of members of those movements. So in this sense, Griffin’s choice of Larro as a source is far to superior to someone like Mike Warnke or Bill Schnoebelen. However, the fact that she used a non-primary source rather than seeking out actual Pagans (to whom she refers as “Newpaganists” later in the article, again calling her knowledge and credibility into question) and New Agers directly is questionable.

This is especially questionable when one reads Larro’s article. While considerate and even mostly positive, Larro’s article has a clear agenda: To consider the two movements through the lens of socialism and to consider whether either movement could serve as a spiritual or religious vehicle to support the socialist movement. I suspect that this is exactly the reason Griffin chose this article as her source. Socialism is another bogeyman of conservative Christians and they often like to link all of their bogeyman into a single (often Satanic) conspiracy. This hypothesis finds support in the following paragraph found a little later in the article:

Climate change, transgenderism, abortion, cancel culture, and even critical race theory (CRT) have their poisonous roots in New Age and neopagan religious ideas. Under the auspices of New Age fall CRT and cancel culture. The tenets of CRT and cancel culture emphasize the importance of “lived experience,” “special knowledge,” and manifestation of your best life. Anyone who dares to contradict these deserves to be canceled because they are evil according to New Age. Ironically, New Age preaches that it can help its adherents self-help their way out of their problems while also creating a victim class.

Had Griffin geared her research toward exploring the truth rather than mining for quotes and sources that fit her narrative, she might have discovered that opinions on many of those topics vary greatly among Pagans (and presumably New Agers as well). The accusation that either movement acts with a hive mind with no disagreements is woefully ignorant. And again, I posit that this is more likely a matter of projection on Griffin’s part: She assumes that Pagans demand conformity of opinion because her own brand of Christianity demands it.

Griffin then mentions the former astrologist Angela Ucci. I had never heard of Angela Ucci before reading this article and a Google search of her brought up little more than YouTube videos of interviews she’s given and her own social media pages. Beyond that, she seems like a total unknown, which raises the question of why Griffin chose such a relatively unknown person to hold up her experience and try to paint it as universal among New Agers. Again, this feels more like Griffin cherry-picking a testimony that fits her desired narrative rather than an honest attempt at research or presenting factual information.

Griffin hen goes on to give examples that she considers evidence of the two movements’ growing influence, citing media portrayals of witches and the portrayal of witches and Pagans in a positive light, something which seems to bother Griffin greatly despite the fact that she doesn’t articulate why that is as well. Instead, she offers barbs like “it’s the embodiment of chaos.” Which is a particularly ironic in light of her previous claims that Paganism and the New Age movement are a monolith which demands adherence to the group think. The idea that everyone must think alike and chaos (or total individualism, as Griffin mentions later) are fairly incompatible concepts. Griffins accusations are rather inconsistent and incoherent if one merely scratches the surface a bit.

Griffin then invokes the specter of the Satanists, mentioning a specific incident in Texas:

This rise in New Age/mysticism and paganism is getting ever more prevalent in the mainstream culture. In Tyler, Texas, over the weekend, satanists (who would go into the neopaganism column) had a booth at a Pagan Pride event. The Morning Telegraph, a local paper covering the event, quoted the event organizer, Raynie Castañeda, as saying the event was not satanic, just an alternative celebration of non-Abrahamic religions. She said: “There’s kids trick-or-treating, people getting their faces painted. … We’re not doing anything satanic or any crazy rituals. We’re just existing.” She must have missed the part where the Satanic temple booth was preforming “unbaptisms” for $10 and handing out certificates that literally said: “All bonds of servitude have been broken. Power and agency have been restored. Thyself is thy master. Hail Satan!” Maybe Castañeda doesn’t understand what “satanic” is?

There’s a lot to unpack in this quote and I’m not sure I’ll be able to get to it all, but I at least want to start that process. The first thing to note is that she uses the activities of a single group and their booth to paint a picture of all the other Pagans attending the event. Again, this is a case of Griffin cherry picking examples that fit her narrative and ignoring anything that might run counter to it.

I will also note that Griffin seems to either be ignorant of the fact that The Satanic Temple is primarily an atheistic form of Satanism or is intentionally ignoring or even erasing that fact. When most members of the Satanic Temple say “Hail Satan,” they are not literally talking about the Christian devil, but a concept or a principle. So yes, even the Satanists in this story most likely do not consider themselves “satanic” in the sense that Griffin is attempting to imply. Then again, Griffin seems to think that anything that doesn’t fall into step with her own brand of Christianity is satanic, so maybe they do. But I don’t find that a particularly useful or honest use of the word on her part.

The concept of “unbaptisms” — which Griffin seems to find troubling and possibly offensive — is an interesting concept. As someone who had a bad (though not as bad as others) experience in evangelical Christianity, I can certainly see what value some people might find value in a ritual act of breaking ties with their former, toxic religious experiences. So Griffin cries fowl and animosity toward Christianity without exploring why some might justifiably feel such animosity.

Griffin closes her article with the unfounded and unsubstantiated claims that Pagans and New Agers are seeking to destroy American soceity and that neither movement offers true happiness. This later is a claim that I hear often, but ignores the many Pagans (and presumably New Agers) that are quite happy and lived fulfilled lives. But again, our experiences and our truths do not fit Griffin’s narrative so we must either be ignored or presumed to be lying.

In closing, I will just note that I am again disappointed in just how uninterested many Christians are in pursuing and presenting the truth despite their many claims to the contrary. There is so much dishonesty in Griffin’s article and the way that she presents her case that I struggle to believe that it is not intentional.

Thoughts on Voluntary Baptism for Children

In a Discord community, an acquaintance asked for thoughts on the idea of children and teens making a profession of faith and getting baptized. I gave some thoughts on the topic. I would like to now share them here and even expand on them.

My own thoughts are influenced by a number of factors. First is the factor of being brought up in an American Baptist church that was a staunch believer in the believer’s baptism. We did not do infant baptism. Baptism was a choice a person had to make for themselves when they were able to do so.

One of the big questions among Baptists tends to be the question of at what point CAN a child make that choice for themselves. When do they have the maturity and cognitive ability to make that choice for themselves? There’s no easy answer to that question. There’s also no one-size-fits-all to that question. Individual children develop and mature differently, each at their own pace. The moment we pick an age, we will have children that would have been ready for such a decision sooner and children for whom that age is still too young.

In the long run, I think belief in a child’s right to personal autonomy – and that is a belief I hold as fiercely as my belief in any adult’s right to personal autonomy – we may need to trust individual children to make this call for themselves. After all, getting baptized is typically not as dangerous as operating a chainsaw, imbibing alcohol, or driving a car. If a child gets baptized “too soon” or decides it was a mistake later for any reason, no harm, no foul. Or at least, I would hope so.

There are some obvious caveats here. Hopefully, they are getting baptized in a church and not some sort of cult. Hopefully, that church is healthy and espouses theology that is non-toxic.Hopefully, that church is not authoritarian and allows its members to establish friendships and other relationships outside of the church as well.

I acknowledge that this is a lot to hope for, and there are a lot of churches that do not match my desired attributes.But I think it is an error and an injustice to a child to try and resolve these potential pitfalls by deciding said child is “too young” to make that decision for themselves. In fact, I’d suggest that doing so would be to fall into the same kind of paternalistic, controlling behavior we’re concerned about the church engaging in.

Before I move on to my preferred way to mitigate these pitfalls, I want to offer another insight, this one influenced by my experience as a witch. And that’s an appreciation for the importance of praxis and religion as a communal practice and identity. I’ve come to see baptism as not only a profession of belief, but as an act of joining community and even a family. In fact, that may be the most important part to a child. Maybe they don’t believe in God and Jesus, but find meaning in singing the hymns or worship songs alongside others. And if the community/family is healthy, I think it is important to encourage a child who wants to join it and partake in it. After all, if they decide they no longer want to be a part of that community later on, they are (hopefully) free to leave it. No harm, no foul.

As an aside, I wonder how many of us balk at the idea of kids getting baptized or professing a belief is bad are acting out of old ideas about apostasy. We seem to have this reaction that “once we’re in, we’ll never get out” or something. Granted, that thinking also grows out of our own – often traumatic – experiences with Christian – particularly evangelical, as that’s the background of myself and a lot of the people I talk to – churches. We have an understandable and noble desire to protect others from experiencing the same or similar things.

Unfortunately, I don’t think we can always protect others. Even children. I also think there comes a time when our attempts to do so become controlling in their own way and rob others of their own – possibly positive – experiences.

So what do I think we should do? I think we should encourage children to think for themselves and to make their own choices – even if those choices sometimes make us nervous. Here are some concrete things that I think go into that:

  1. Instilling a sense of self-esteem and self-trust in the children around us.
  2. Teaching children that their needs and wants matter and are valid.
  3. Teaching children critical thinking skills and encouraging them to always think things over.
  4. Ensuring that children don’t end up in an echo chamber or solely reliant on the church (or any other source) for support and companionship.
  5. Teaching children that they are allowed to change their mind and that it’s okay (and probably even inevitable) if their beliefs change over time.

I believe that a child so equipped can and should be trusted to make their own choices about what they believe and whether they want to be a part of any given religious community.

“You just want to sin!”

I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve heard or seen that statement now. Some have leveled this accusation directly at me personally. I’ve seen it in the dozens of posts where evangelical and other conservative Christians try to explain why people are deconstructing their faith, leaving their churches for more progressive ones, and/or leaving Christianity altogether. (I will not link to any of those articles, but be sure to check out the excellent response to one of them by Kurt Kroon over at Cascade Church of Portland.)

It’s a garbage accusation. No one goes through the process of deconstructing or changing their beliefs just because they want to “sin.” It’s an explanation that allows the accuser to summarily dismiss the truth of what many people who deconstruct go through. I’d argue that’s most likely because if the accuser took an honest look at what was really going on in such people’s lives, they’d have to grapple with some serious and difficult questions. And that might actually might make then start their own journey of deconstruction.

So as someone who has gone through the deconstruction process and came out realizing he prefers a cauldron over a eucharistic cup any day, allow me to unpack this whole idea of how some of us actually grapple with the topic of “sin” while we deconstruct.

As always, note that this is neither a comprehensive nor an exhaustive list. There are likely aspects of the topic of sin that I will not cover in this post. Hopefully, other people will pick up their pens (whether literal or figurative) and fill in the gaps that I leave so together, we draw a nuanced and beautiful picture of reality.

We question what qualifies as a sin.

I would estimate that 99% of the time that this accusation comes up, the accuser specifically has “sexual sin” in mind. And in 99% of those cases, I’ll note that the “sexual sin” in question is usually centered around engaging in sex with someone who is the “same sex” (in quotes to acknowledge the complex nuances that are added when you start thinking beyond the gender binary) as you. Oh, sometimes, they’ll throw in someone cheating on their spouse (which I personally would classify as breaking one’s word/agreement to one’s spouse rather than a “sexual sin”), but that often feels like an attempt to “prove” they’re not really just out to queer people. (Often, I feel they really are just out to get queer people.)

My response is very similar to Kroon’s response in his article, where he wrote the following:

Maybe what this concept is really exposing is that specific behaviors or identities are seen as sinful in these church communities and the process of becoming who God created them to be gets interpreted as just “loving sin”.

You see, here’s the deal. Some of us experience desires for people that evangelical churches tell us we shouldn’t. They often tell us that even having these desires is inherently sinful. Even in the cases that they don’t, they insist that acting on those desires is definitely sinful.

The thing is, for allosexual gay, lesbian, bisexual, and pansexual people — and even ace/aro people who are not sex-indifferent or sex-repulsed — sexual desires/and or the need to experience sex is a very real and basic human need. Expecting such people to perpetually deny themselves the fulfillment of that need for no good reason (and we’ll get to the reasons in a bit) is cruel. So these churches are demanding something of their followers that is cruel. That deserves to be questioned.

So do some people deconstruct because they want to find sexual fulfillment and intimacy? That was certainly one of my reasons — and the one that got the whole process kicked off. The thing is, I don’t see that as a bad thing. And I’m critical of any theology that does.

We question how sin is defined and determined.

One of the things I learned with my experiences in evangelical Christianity is that “sin” is very arbitrary. That is, the decision as to whether something is a sin and why it is a sin boils down to “God decides what is and isn’t sin.” I have said elsewhere and will repeat here that I think this is the worst basis for a moral framework that I can imagine. Morality must be something more than an arbitrary set of proclamations by God.

To once more go back to sexual desire and the desire for sexual gratification and intimacy, most evangelical Christians will insist that the Bible “clearly teaches” that such sexual activities are clearly sinful. But they do not grapple with whether their interpretation of the Bible is actually correct (there is good faith disagreement on how to interpret the Bible passages in question) nor whether the Bible would be correct even if it was proven that theirs was the correct interpretation. This is where my and others’ anti-authoritarian leanings come into play. “The Bible says so,” even if it were an unquestionably correct statement, does not settle the matter for me. We still must question whether the position is defensible from a moral standpoint. That is, we must look at the impact this doctrine has on the people it targets. That impact is toxic and harmful, which to me invalidates the doctrine. Doctrine that inflicts harm on people should be rejected, even if it’s “correct.” (See also: A deity who harms their own creation is a deity that should be opposed and undermined rather than worshiped and obeyed.)

I will note that some conservative Christians — such as Catholics — do not rely solely on “the Bible say so.” Instead they will invoke “natural law.” The problem is, their “natural law” arguments are based on outdated, obsolete understandings of science and/or outright junk science rather than based on what science has now revealed about the natural world. These arguments also deserve to be explored and criticized, and many queer and queer-friendly Catholics do exactly that.

We question original sin, total depravity, and sin as something that forever separates us from the Divine.

As far as I’m concerned, the whole concept of sin as taught in evangelical Christianity and other conservative forms of Christianity is toxic and irredeemable (pun intended) to the core. The idea that people need to be “rescued” from their sins is laughable and serves no other purpose than to force a perspective of self-loathing, helplessness, and unhealthy subservient reliance on God — and church leadership by proxy.

This is a reality that many people who deconstruct and/or deconvert go through, in my experience. We start questioning the whole idea that we are “sinners,” that sin is something that permanently separates us from God without God’s intervention. Instead, we start to formulate other ways to understand and derive our morality and our relationship with the Divine (assuming we have any further interest in the Divine). We start to explore other ways to address our moral shortcomings and the “messes” we create when we screw up. There are plenty of other models for atonement and accountability. Quite frankly, I consider quite a few of them far superior to the evangelical model, which tends to focus primarily if not exclusively on some perfect afterlife rather than seeking true justice, accountability, and restoration of human dignity in this life.

Concluding remarks.

I hope you, dear reader, are starting to see just how much there is to explore and deconstruct about the topic of “sin.” These are the kinds of questions that those of us who deconstruct and/or deconvert grapple with. And yet our accusers want to flatten that into a trite accusation that we “just want to sin.” I’m not buying it. I hope you don’t buy it either. In fact, I hope you start to see just how cruel and immoral the accusation actually is.

An Ex-Gay Survivor’s Musings on the “Pray Away” documentary

Hello, dear readers. If you are reading this post when I first scheduled it to appear, I just finished taking part in a Clubhouse room where we discussed the documentary “Pray Away,” which was directed and produced by Kristine Stolakis. I watched the documentary for the first time earlier this year and then re-watched it to take notes and prepare for the Clubhouse room.

As I was preparing for the Clubhouse room, I realized that there was no way that I could possibly talk about everything I wanted to. The room was scheduled to last for only one hour and other people needed a chance to talk. And this room was sponsored by a club where a lot of people want and need to talk. So I had to pick out a few important points to make and make space for the other participants.

So I decided to dust things off here at the ol’ blog and write this post. After all, I can take all the time I need to share all of my thoughts. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. (And if anyone from Clubhouse followed me over here to hear the rest of my thoughts, hi!)

Note from editing: I still didn’t get everything in. Some things had to go for the sake of structure. I’m pleased with the final outcome though.

Let me go into my own ex-gay background.

I never attended an Exodus conference. I never saw a therapist while trying to change my sexual orientation. Instead, I was the kind of ex-gay that read a book (this one, if you really want to know), confessed my “struggles” to my Christian friends and church family, and prayed like hell at home asking God to please make me attracted to women rather than other guys.

You see, there are all kinds of ex-gays. This is something that did not come across at all in the documentary. In fact, there was a time when I wasn’t sure I actually qualified as an ex-gay survivor. I expressed this to Peterson Toscano back when he and Christine Bakke-O’Neil (just Bakke back then) first founded the now inactive Beyond Ex-Gay (bXg). He assured me that I definitely qualified as an ex-gay survivor. In fact the bXg FAQ page has a few questions that cover the broad range of “ex-gay experiences.”

I think it’s also important to note that even those of us who did not attend formal ministries or events like Exodus International and its conferences were influenced by them. These ministries and events put out reading materials (a.k.a. propaganda) that influenced the general conservative Christian view of LGBTQIA+ people. So despite my self-driven attempts to pray away the gay, Exodus and the other organizations still had an impact on me.

Some things in the documentary were relatable.

I think the most powerful part of the documentary was the part that I related to most. That’s the part where John Paulk talked about feeling alone even though he was surrounded by his wife (at the time) and kids. Just before my fifteenth coming out anniversary, I offered the following reflection:

The thing is, dealing with one’s feelings is ultimately something one has to do alone. No one can feel those feelings for you. No one can take them away from you. No one can do anything other than support you through it all, and no one can give that support 24/7. I found that late at night, laying in my bed, I was left all alone to either face my desire for love and intimacy with another man alone or repress it alone. It was my burden to carry, and the more I fought it, the heavier that burden got.

— Jarred. “The Path Left Behind.” This blog.

Paulk went on to talk about the fact that it was during this time of loneliness that he finally realized he had to figure out who he really was or it was going to destroy him. I had a similar experience in my own coming out process, which I wrote about elsewhere.

Many parts of Julie Rodgers’s story were moving.

I had never heard of Julie before this documentary. That’s probably a huge reason why her story was one of the stories in the documentary that touched me most. When she read a section she had written about how her struggles reconciling her faith with her sexuality led her to injure herself, it moved me deeply. it (along with the part of John’s story that I discussed above) is one of the few parts of the documentary that I felt actually gave a glimpse into the kind of pain and suffering that the ex-gay movement has caused. (I’ll come back to this statement later.)

I wish the documentary would have talked more about the politicization of the ex-gay movement.

The documentary talked about how Exodus got involved in advocating for the passage of Proposition 8. Yvette Cantu Schneider talked about going to work for the Family Research Counsel. So the documentary covered that the ex-gay movement got in bed with the opponents of LGBTQIA+ rights. But the way it was presented made it feel like this was a “later development.” And perhaps as an explicit decision, it was. But the idea of political neutrality is often a fiction, and that certainly applies to the ex-gay movement. The ex-gay movement and its purveyors were useful tools to the opponents of LGBTQIA+ rights from the beginning. This is evidenced by the fact that Anita Bryant tried to form a coalition with Exodus back in the eighties. Exodus declined the invitation (for which I will give them some credit).

Yet, anyone familiar with the anti-LGBTQIA rhetoric will remember well the common defense: “Gay people don’t need rights. They can simply change.” Whether knowingly or not, the ex-gay leaders at the very least allowed themselves to be weaponized against the rest of us. Silence is complicity.

I wish the documentary had talked more about the ties between the ex-gay movement and the Pentecostal movement.

You get a glimpse of how Pentecostalism is heavily tied to the ex-gay movement in the scene from the documentary when everyone is laying hands on someone to pray for them. It was a scene from Jeremy McCall’s story. It didn’t come up in the documentary, but during an interview shortly before Exodus closed its doors, Alan Chambers talked about how his Pentecostalism influenced his claims to have changed his orientation. According to Alan, claiming to have already changed was supposed to be a statement of faith in the hopes that God would eventually make it a true statement. This is actually a common practice in Pentecostal practice and more specifically a common practice in the Prosperity Gospel movement, often referred to by the phrase “name it and claim it.” At the time of the interview, Alan expressed remorse that people mistook this practice for a factual claim representing the present reality.

It’s interesting to me that other former Exodus leaders talked about their claims to have changed differently in the documentary. Michael Bussee said he had been “pretending.” John Paulk outright said that he had been lying. I’m curious if that’s how both men would have interpreted their actions at the time they were still involved in Exodus or if it’s a description of their behavior after the fact. If the latter, I wonder if they, like Alan, approached their statements in a “say it as if it’s true so that it will become true” manner at the time they were still a part of Exodus.

I wish the documentary had talked about the shift in promised results by Exodus.

Everyone involved in the documentary was very honest in admitting that Exodus originally promised a change in sexual orientation. John Paulk said he joined with the expectation of getting married and becoming a father, thereby fulfilling his “proper role as a Christian man.” One of the earlier promotions for Exodus International — shown early in the documentary — practically equated turning straight with “being saved.” Paulk and Michael Bussee both admitted to presenting themselves as formerly gay men who had experienced a change in orientation in the past.

What the documentary did not cover was the eventual shift from “change is possible” to “the goal is holiness, not heterosexuality.” Exodus spokespeople started admitting that a change in sexual attraction may not actually be possible — at least not for everyone — and started promoting lifelong celibacy as an acceptable alternative instead. I suspect a lot of this had to do with the work of Justin Lee, who was critical of the ex-gay industry and formed the Gay Christian Network (which has since been renamed the Queer Christian Fellowship and continues on without Justin’s involvement), where the Side A/Side B terminology was first coined. (In that paradigm, I have seen people who promote actual change in sexual orientation referred to as “Side X” and deemed a completely different thing in its own right.)

I feel this change from promising “change” to offering “God-pleasing holiness” through celibacy is important. I feel it was one of the first signs that Exodus was failing.

I wish the documentary would have talked more about the tailoring of the ex-gay narratives.

In the documentary, Julie Rodgers talks about how Ricky Chalette pushed her to include a personal experience of sexual assault into her testimony — a terrible act on Chelette’s part. When she initially refused, she noted that he expressed disappointment because he felt the story would add so much power to her testimony.

One of the things I talked about when reviewing Randy Thomas’s own apology at the time Exodus closed its doors was how he noted that Exodus regularly encouraged ex-gay speakers to “tailor their testimony to fit a certain narrative” at the time he joined. Randy did not go into detail, but I have a bit of a hypothesis about what he’s talking about, and I feel Julie’s story about Ricky pushing her to include her assault in her testimony tends to back it up.

One of the things that I and others have long noted about many ex-gay testimonies is how they all talk about addictive and self-destructive behavior. They weren’t just gay. They were drinking way too much. They were abusing other drugs. They were engaging in risky sexual behaviors and/or “being promiscuous.” You can even see this in Jeremy McCall’s testimony in the documentary. It seems to me that this is probably a direct result of the “tailoring process.”

Now, I’m not saying anyone made up a drug addiction or drinking problem. (Though I’ll note that conservative Christians are notorious for overstating problems, to the point of sometimes painting having a beer or two with dinner as “a drinking problem.”) But I do think that there was a concerted effort to paint these problems as both inherent to the “gay lifestyle” (as opposed to a coping mechanism for dealing with the stigmatization and oppression of LGBTQIA+ people) and universal to all LGBTQIA+ people. And again, this is something that the opponents of LGBTQIA+ rights reveled in.

I wish the documentary had interviewed some ex-gay survivors who were never professionally ex-gay.

Hopefully up to this point, this analysis has been mostly positive and constructive. Overall, I think this is a great documentary, even if I think it could have been better. But now I have to talk about the one thing that drives me to absolute distraction.

In some ways, this documentary feels more like a part of the participants’ redemption story rather than an incisive analysis or exposé of the ex-gay movement. And that’s largely a result of who was interviewed. Every single person interviewed for this documentary is a former — or in one case, current — leader in the ex-gay movement. I call them “professional ex-gays.”

Now my feelings about each of them as individuals varies widely, based on when they left the ex-gay ministry, the circumstances surrounding their exodus (from Exodus! Ha!), and what they’ve done since then. Michael Bussee left Exodus back in 1979, has lived as an openly gay man with his partner ever since, and has done much to elevate the voices of former ex-gays. Compare this to Alan Chambers, who stuck it out until Exodus closed its doors, but has agreed to talk about his marriage to Leslie — a marriage he weaponized or at least allowed others to weaponize against the rest of us for years — as a difficult, but acceptable “alternative” for LGBTQIA+ Christians as recently as a couple years ago. (Fortunately, the expressions of outrage over the invitation caused QCF to quietly withdraw it, but it was done very quietly.)

I would have liked to see at least one person who had not been platformed by Exodus or some other organization — Jeremy McCall has his own ministry and accepts speaking engagements which I suspect he gets paid for, but have no proof — at any point. Someone who paid to attend conferences where they were told “pray harder” and were fed pseudoscience without a single bit of compensation. I mean, surely Michael Bussee could have arranged a few introductions between Kristina Stolakis and such people.

This meant that even when the documentary talked about the meeting Michael did set up between ex-gay survivors and Exodus leadership around the time of its closing, that narrative was filtered through those leaders. What we saw was not so much the stories of those survivors, but the reactions of the leaders to those stories. To me, that was a huge injustice on the part of this documentary. It may be an unforgivable injustice.

Let’s tl;dr this thing.

As I said earlier. I think it was a good documentary overall and worth watching. i especially think it’s worth watching if you’ve never had to struggle with your sexuality or never experienced what conversion therapy and ex-gay ministries are like. However, I would just suggest that you also seek out other sources of information and stories about the movement. Some such stories are still visible on the bXg site. I’d also recommend checking out sites like Ex-Gay Watch and the now inactive Box Turtle Bulletin which have tracked and reported on the activities of ex-gay ministries and the greater anti-LGBTQIA+ movement for years. Because if you only watch this documentary, you’re not getting the full story.

Getting the full story is important to me. The ex-gay industry did not die off when Exodus closed its doors like many people had hoped it would. If anything, It’s had a distressing resurgence in recent years. Many within the current industry are even back to promising “change” rather than offering lifelong celibacy as LGBTQIA+ people’s best hope. We need to remember — and remind people — that we have already been down this road and the costs that were extracted while traveling it. We must learn from history so we can stop repeating it.

New Video: Power in the Craft

In this week’s video over on YouTube, I talk about the concept of power in the Craft.

[youtube https://youtu.be/lS43xAW1oMA]

As a former evangelical, I think it’s important to have an understanding of power that prohibits control and abuse of others. One of the things I did not mention in the video is the role of systemic power. Also, institutional power.

I think that systemic/institutional power should be avoided. All individuals should have access to power. This leads to equity and justice. I keep coming back to the idea of self-empowerment in witchcraft. That’s because I think it’s an important topic.

Institutional power and self-empowerment often come to odds with one another. For evidence, consider how institutions expect individuals to give up freedoms and make sacrifices for “the greater good.” But whose greater good? Most often, the institutions’ greater good.

As an aside, I’m amused by the fact that this topic came up during Pride Month. LGBTQIA people (though clearly not the only group) have been hit hard and abused by institutional power. Especially the institutions of various Christian churches. We desperately need a vision of power that breaks down that harm.

New Video: Magic as Self-Empowerment

I created and posted a new video yesterday about practicing magic for self-empowerment

[youtube https://youtu.be/8sxiYSOC8zQ]

Listening to some witches and other magical practitioners talk lately, I feel like we forget that we work magic to empower ourselves and improve our lives. At least, I hope that’s why we do it.

It’s too easy to get bogged down in the rules. “Only do this kind of spell when the moon is in this phase.” “You can’t do that spell right now! Mercury/Venus/Pluto/the moon is retrograde!” (I know the moon can’t go retrograde. It was a joke.) Or magic and our rituals start feeling like heavy obligations. (“Ugh! It’s the full moon! What am I going to do for magic?” “I don’t know what spell to do.”)

As I say in the video, I feel like these kinds of statements and questions often indicate that someone has forgotten that we do magic for self-empowerment. Our magic must be tailored to serve us rather than the other way around.

New Video: Living a Magical Life

After an extended break, I decided to get back into making some YouTube videos about witchcraft. In this latest video, I talk about what it means to lie a magical life.

[youtube https://youtu.be/N-3j-5DfCOM]

As I mentioned in the video, I think this meshes well with my old podcast episode about the everyday sacred. When everything is sacred and every act is magical, the world becomes a thing of amazing beauty and we are left in awe of it.

I also think this understanding of what it means to live a magical life creates a more holistic mentality than an understanding of magic that focuses on mere spellwork and ritual. It encourages one to see oneself as a witch when getting up in the morning, when doing the dishes, and when showering.

This mentality is also helpful, I think, for those who feel pressure to be magical all the time. I’ve noticed a few times on Twitter people talking about how it’s okay to not work magic if you’re not feeling up to it, even if it’s a full moon or a sabbat. I completely agree, but I’d take it a step further by noting that an intentional decision to take not do something for the sake of your own health is actively living a magical life as well.

The thoughts of a gay witch living in upstate New York.