June 2001
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Spelling it out
What are Paganism and witchcraft today?
Nic Hubbard finds it's a moot point

Candles glitter in glass holders, the late evening air is heavy with incense smoke and alcohol is consumed with religious reverence. You'd be forgiven for thinking that we've stumbled upon a Catholic communion, but you couldn't be further from the truth. We're upstairs at The Hobgoblin pub, York Place. Welcome to a monthly moot of local Pagans.

If you're expecting human sacrifice and full frontal nudity, forget it. No goats or Vestal Virgins, although the amount of long hair in the room makes you think you might be at an Iron Maiden gig.

Instead we're in for an evening of literary appreciation. Julie, in her fifties and dressed like an art teacher, is a Druid. She discusses Thomas Hardy's Return of the Native. She describes how, despite being a Christian, Hardy displays Pagan tendencies "because he was brought up in these rural surroundings."

Ask around, and you'll discover that most become Pagan through this kind of innate connection with nature. Enquire further and you'll be told Paganism was the original religion of Britain and Ireland. Witches, who do cast spells, but in accordance with their belief in doing no harm, and Druids, priests of a tree based religion, both come under the umbrella of Paganism, which also includes those who follow Egyptian and Nordic traditions. The common thread is an ancient and earth-based belief, with some worshipping a god or goddess in the form of the Earth and the Moon. Honouring their ancestors and the blood and mud of the country are an important part of all Pagan beliefs, with festivals following natural cycles. Hardy certainly used the Pagan year as a structure for many of his novels.

Sue, an aromotherapist, looks like she could be your aunt, and is wearing jeans and a shirt. She has been a witch "for a long time..." Her practice of witchcraft covers everything from honouring the goddess, simple nature worship, to spellcasting: "it all sounds a bit lame really," she says. Spells can be cast to heal those in need, or to influence the weather.

Pass these people on the street and you'd hardly be able to tell they were anything out of the ordinary. One of the druids present, Kate, is a textile designer. She chats about the new stall she hopes to take, making clothes from natural fibres and selling unusual accessories. Another woman present corners a couple of people to arrange a chat over a bottle of wine later in the week. She is studying for a PhD.

Toby, who works for an electronics firm, describes himself as "a basic Pagan." He is dressed in casual black, his long hair tied back. Paganism is something that he has always followed: "I went to Catholic school, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't be a Christian." Although it was the unbending doctrine of Catholicism which made Toby reject Christianity, he enjoys the rituals of Paganism, which are open to those who are interested. They involve nothing more sinister than getting together with like minded people, sitting on the top of a hill from sun down to sun up within a protective circle, sometimes dancing and telling tales and poems. "It's just a way of worshipping our gods really, in the same way that some people go to church on a Sunday. There's no definite set pattern," he explains, "Paganism is quite freeform." Remembering his first ritual, Toby says, "You do feel a little awkward to start with, but eventually you throw yourself into it... nobody forces you to do anything."

The difficult part is finding like-minded people. Sue says it took her a while to be accepted by a coven, a group of witches who work together to cast spells. Pagans like to keep a low profile, and despite their obvious love of a good time, many are wary to the point of paranoia when it comes to publicity. Genuine curiosity is accepted and even welcomed, but as with any religion, there are a fair number of cranks to be avoided. "It can attract people who aren't playing with a full deck of cards," says one.

These problems arise partially because there is little in the way of doctrine or structure in most areas of Paganism. The British Druid Order has two chiefs, but neither accept the role of leader, preferring the term 'guide'. To a large extent, Pagans are free to construct their own principles, leaving themselves and the term Pagan open to misuse. Although the number of active Pagans is certainly rising, Paganism is not yet a recognised religion in this country: that decision would have to be made by the courts. And Pagans are still very open to ridicule from people who misunderstand their beliefs.

One of the most well-known Pagans, and the woman widely accepted as the mother of modern witchcraft was Doreen Valiente. She made Brighton her home during her most productive years, and was the patron of The Centre for Pagan Studies, set up in 1995 at Maresfield, East Sussex. From this she hoped to encourage research and understanding of Paganism, but unfortunately suffered from the biggest obstacle still faced by most Pagans - making themselves known without fear of prejudgement. Doreen died in 1999.

John Belham-Payne, inheritor of Doreen's artefacts and power, believes that: "The biggest misconception about Pagans and especially witches is that we are all devil worshippers, or as I was recently called 'spawn of Satan.' Absolutely 100 per cent not true. We do not believe in the Devil. It is not part of our tradition. The Devil is a totally Christian invention... I doubt you would ever find a Pagan who is anti-Christian, though most Christian ministers and their teaching are anti-Pagan." For those who are concerned about witches casting black magic spells, he answers: "We live like anyone else by a basic set of rules, which we take very seriously... 'do whatever you wish, but do not hurt anyone'... We all have the same ethical beliefs of love and kinship with nature, the belief in the duality of deity. In other words we believe in reincarnation of the spirit."

As a High Priest and arguably the most powerful witch in the world today, John meets Pagans of all walks of life: "Amongst my own kind, witches, there are actors and accountants, bankers and bakers, doctors and nurses, midwives and housewives." He plans to open a Witchcraft Museum in either Brighton or Hastings, and is eager to hear from anyone with any items in their attic they may want to ask about.

As one of the last counties to succumb to Christianity's cross-wielding converts, Sussex is steeped in Pagan history. Scratch the surface of some of Brighton & Hove's most prominent landmarks and marvel at what you find. Palmeira Square was the site of a bronze age barrow, where one of only two cups ever found fashioned of amber was excavated from an oak coffin. The burial ground was a site for Pagan ceremonies. And the name Goldstone, which comes from "Gorsedd" or "Col" stone, is connected with the Druids. The original stone used to stand at the north west corner of what is now Hove Park. We even had our own mini Stonehenge, close to where we ritually enslave ourselves every bank holiday to our modern god, the car. The Steine comes from "staene," meaning the place of the stones.

If you had no idea all this history and mysticism was on your doorstep, you're forgiven. This year sees only the 50th anniversary of the Repeal of the Witchcraft Act. In the short time between then and now, it is believed that Paganism has enjoyed a colossal resurgence, rivalling Islam in its claim to be one of the country's fastest growing religions. Put Pagan into any internet search engine, and the sheer quantity of results is astounding. The high quality of practically every site shows that Pagans are anything but a thing of the past. John believes that there may be many closet Pagans, who don't know who to contact, or may not even know that they are Pagans. He hopes "that by being so open in my belief that I do my best for those who, because of their job or family cannot express their beliefs or help by example to pave the way for others to be able to find their own path."

Right now, back at the Moot, the path leads directly to the bar. There's a mid- session break for a beer, as the combination of reading aloud and incense smoke has caused a few parched throats. This group of people, with wildly varying backgrounds and religious beliefs are united under the banner of Paganism, although their ways of following their religion differ. And they meet up in the pub. Makes you think that all those hours at Sunday School were a bit of a waste really.

The Festival of Occulture at Hanbury Ballroom, and Cinematheque June 25-30. Tickets from 01273 384801.

 

copyright New Insight 2001



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