We can identify three kinds of what might be called Witchcraft.
Beginning in prehistoric times, the tribal medicine man attempted to bring some understanding to a largely unexplained universe, and to provide some relief for the afflictions of his people. Later, Egyptian priests, Babylonian astrologers, Greek oracles, and Celtic Druids are an extension of this category. Ethical and moral standards varied widely . . .
I was starting to see how magic and witchy people were very, very old.
And it sounded like they were very important once — they were the first priests, scientists, and doctors. Hmm.
The second meaning of the term is uniquely medieval, coming out of the infamous Witch Trials in Europe and New England. It is not known exactly what, if any, of the charges made were based on fact, but the evidence suggests that the vast majority of the persons charged were the victims of prejudice and revenge motives, and most of the charges were the fantasies of the accusers. Unfortunately, our modern popular concept of witchcraft is derived almost entirely from these events . . .
So what people think of as witches may not have even existed! All those dumb little kid’s books about black witches in pointy hats riding brooms!
Doesn’t anyone care about what’s really true anymore?
Lastly, with the repeal of anti-witchcraft laws, the late 20th century has seen a revival of ancient pagan cults of many kinds. For the most part, these modern groups are white Witches, non-sacrificial Druids, etc., embracing high moral standards, beneficent motives, and only legal uses of herbs and drugs. Most such cults are eclectic, developing their own composite philosophy and practice by selecting elements of several ancient traditions, or just inventing their own . . .
I read that paragraph over several times, and looked up a couple of words.
I was starting to put together a picture in my mind of something . . . but it wasn’t complete yet. I was starting to wonder if I wasn’t really one of the ancients somehow. It sure would explain some of the ways I was different from my friends.
My reading had gone far beyond the 5th grade history book, but I kept up with all the regular schoolwork too. Thanksgiving came and went. We piled a table with food, ate some of it, then worked on the leftovers for days. A couple of shriveled relatives came over to help us eat. It didn’t seem very special to me.
I’m not sure exactly why, but as Advent began, I started to go to church again. My parents didn’t go anymore, and I didn’t make a big deal of it. I just started going. Somehow it seemed to be a part of the picture I was trying to put together.
My calligraphy was getting better all the time. My mom found me practicing once, and was kind of amazed. She gave me that funny sideways look I always got when I did something that most girls my age didn’t do. Oh, well.
One day I opened my special blank book and added: Be as gentle as doves, yet wise as foxes.
That saying seemed important to me. I decided I wanted to put a title on the page. Laws? Rules? I couldn’t decide. I opened my pad and practiced a little with the fine chisel-point. Wisdom? I looked it up.
1. The quality of being wise; the faculty of making the best use of knowledge, experience, understanding, etc.; good judgment; sagacity. 2.
Learning; erudition; knowledge; as, the wisdom of the ages.
That’s the one I wanted. I put a wide chisel-point nib in my stylus and carefully formed the letters on the top of the page. I read the definition again, and thought of the doves and the foxes.
I found a book on wizards and magicians and read about them. Some of the things it said about them I liked, some I didn’t, and some gave me the feeling that the author was just making stuff up.
My mom and dad figured out I was going to church, but they didn’t bug me about it. As Christmas approached, I invited them to go to Midnight Mass with me, and they accepted. I told them I wanted to walk, and they weren’t too sure about that at first, mumbling stuff about being safe and slipping on the ice. But they finally decided it would be okay since we would all be together, and we could all wear boots and it would be so cold that no one would care.
I think the hardest thing for them was that I had invited them — they hadn’t made me go or anything. I was growing up, faster than my friends, and I had been doing it ever since that year with my Teacher. My mom and dad would always hate him a little for that. They couldn’t understand that he hadn’t changed me, he had just helped to wake things up that were already inside me.