The Season of the Witch, Part 2



ILLUMINATING: Inside the Hand of Aries II, where owner Fran Toscani hopes to help shed light on the misunderstood Wiccan faith. photo: Michael LeGrand

Forget Sabrina, Shannen and Blair. Witchcraft, or Wicca, is one of the country's fastest-growing and most tolerant religions.

So why do witches still scare people?

by Daryl Gale

part 1 | part 2

Slowly, attitudes have begun to change here in America, and Wiccans are coming out of the broom closet. Helena Anderson, 37, an administrative assistant, painter and Wiccan High Priestess from Montgomery County, is head of a 13-member coven, begun in 1994, that rotates meetings at each other’s houses. Along with her husband Bill, who is the coven’s High Priest, she doesn’t shy away from her religion, and speaks of Wicca freely. A short, Rubenesque redhead with a pretty face, Helena Anderson doesn’t look any more like a stereotypical witch than her friend, Fran Toscani.

"Bill and I met at the Hand of Aries in 1992, before Fran bought the place," Anderson says, "and we’ve been together every day since. Actually, we’re pretty boring, if you’re looking for exciting witch stories. But in a way that’s good, because we show that Wiccans fall in love, get married and lead boring lives like everybody else. We work regular jobs, worry about household bills, argue and make up like every other couple."

Anderson, who was raised Catholic but left the church to become a witch 15 years ago, says she got into witchcraft through some feminist-inspired books on the Divine Goddess, one of Wicca’s main deities.

"Wicca really falls in line with the women’s spirituality movement," she says. "Many women seek an image of the Divine being that looks like them, not a benevolent patriarch. We’re always seeking harmony, peace and balance in our lives and in the world around us, and that aspect appeals to women also. Of course, the original Wiccans were primarily women, so it’s natural that Wicca will appeal to modern women. It causes you to approach the world in a responsible, ethical fashion, and by feeding yourself positive input, you get a positive attitude."

Anderson is enthusiastic about the sudden boom in witches.

"I think many people are moving away from religions that rigidly tell them what to do, what to think, and how to feel if they want divine approval. I wasn’t happy in a Christian church setting, and now I feel spiritually fulfilled."

Anderson says that while far fewer men become witches, they are most certainly welcome in Wicca, and won’t be treated as second-class citizens. But the better source for that information might be her husband.

Forty-nine-year-old Bill Anderson has been a witch for about 10 years, and runs the coven with Helena. He’s a witch, not a warlock. Warlock, which literally means liar or oath-breaker, is a derogatory term witches find as offensive as redskin, coon or kike.

"In terms of the feminine or feminist aspects of Wicca, I don’t find it intimidating at all," Bill says. "I take the divine persona as non-sexual, more like male and female, two halves of the same whole. I don’t need a purely female spirit entity. But some Wiccans do and I absolutely respect that. But I’ve never seen or heard of anyone having a problem with men in Wicca. I’ve been fortunate though, to have been in some diverse covens with gays, lesbians, straight men and women, and people from various backgrounds and ethnicities. Wicca is truly egalitarian. You can’t be true to Wicca and put down others, so I’d say any cases of discrimination are rare. We’re human just like everyone else, with human faults and failings, but we’re very sensitive to the needs of others and you can’t do that with a hateful spirit. Life’s too short for hatred and discrimination."

Some Wiccan families have grown so comfortable with the religion that they allow their children to talk about it, too.

Akasha is a 40-year-old member of the Church of the Three Witches who works for a Philadelphia law firm. She’s engaged to a fellow church member, Stephen Walton, and has a 14-year-old daughter who’s also a witch.

"I was brought up in the Wicca tradition," Akasha says, "so that makes me sort of a novelty. Most Wiccans today are converts… My daughter is an honor student, and doesn’t mind telling people that she’s a witch. In fact, many students look to her as a source of information about Wicca."



	WITCHES’ CREW: (From left) Megan Insafaw, Toscani and Tom Capie take part in a Wiccan ritual. photo: Jay Matsueda

At the Hand of Aries II, High Priestess Toscani and the members of the Church of the Three Witches are approaching the high point of their equinox celebration.

Earlier, Stephen Walton prepared small packets of flash powder for Toscani to throw into the ceremonial fire at the proper moment. She now stands in the middle of the circle with hands raised and head tilted upward, and cries out in a loud voice.

"As our power as witches, we call upon the elements of the east…" and at that moment, everyone in the circle faces east and raises their hands while a designated person calls out to the guardian of the watchtower of the east and welcomes the guardian to the circle, by the powers of the ancient ones. This invocation is repeated for the south, the west and the north, with the crowd turning in the appropriate direction and chanting in unison, "So mote it be!", which is kind of the Wiccan version of Amen. But while Amen means, "So be it," "So mote it be" denotes a stronger personal action: "I will it, therefore it is to be!"

Then Toscani starts again.

"I am your mother, your sister, and your lover," she says, walking around the circle of congregants. ("So mote it be!") "I am without beginning and without end." ("So mote it be!") Almost imperceptibly, she flicks one of the small flash packets into the flame, and it explodes with a muffled poof, creating a momentary blinding flash and cloud of thick smoke, eliciting gasps of surprise from even the veteran witches who’ve seen it a thousand times.

She picks up a bowl of seeds and passes it around, telling everyone to be sure to take a small handful. Then she launches into what can only be described as a motivational speech, talking to the crowd about the importance of planting the proper seeds to yield the proper harvest. It’s all allegory and parable, the seeds representing what you put into the world and the harvest what you take out. She leads the congregation in a chant of "My crop will grow, my crop will grow" that gets progressively louder and stronger with each repetition. Then she hands out small plastic bags and encourages each member to plant the seeds in the spring. While the bags are being passed around, the crowd begins singing.

She changes everything she touches,

And everything she touches changes.

This, too, gets progressively louder and stronger until Fran stops them with a simple hand wave. It’s time to welcome the new members to the Church of the Three Witches, and the crowd begins singing something in an ancient and unknown tongue while Fran anoints the foreheads of the seven new members with oil, hugging each in turn.

That’s when it gets weird.

To welcome the new members, Fran leads the congregation in a rousing rendition of the old Rodgers & Hammerstein standard, "Getting to Know You" from The King and I. You know the one:

"Getting to know you, getting to know all about you…"

Scary shit, huh?

Toscani asks if anyone in the circle has requests for healing, and many ask for the crowd to send out healing vibes, or a "healing blue light" as Toscani calls it, to those in need of physical, mental or emotional healing. She thanks the goddess for use of the sacred space, and once again the guardians of the north, south, east and west watchtowers are invoked, this time with a hearty "Hail and farewell" from the congregation. After thanking everyone for their participation, Toscani declares the ceremony adjourned, at which time everyone retires back into the store for conversation, juice and cookies.

And that’s it. No naked orgies, no blood, no guy in a goat’s head, no human sacrifices.

"We’re misunderstood," Toscani explains later in what could be the year’s biggest understatement. "Society has taught people for centuries that witches were something completely different than reality. We’re just another religion, based on another belief system, nothing more. If you’re looking for flying broomsticks, or wart-nosed hags with bubbling cauldrons, you’re going to be disappointed."

For the hundredth time, Fran Toscani explains that the negative stereotyping of witches, along with religious intolerance, is the reason witches remain underground. But they’re here, all right.

"We’re everywhere, and growing every day," she says. "You just don’t know it."

part 1 | part 2

For more information
Hand of Aries II
The Broom Closet (Philly-area groups and events)
The Inner Sanctum
Covenant of the Goddess
The Witches' Voice