Outsider religion gains in Las Vegas

Stacy J. Willis

Saturday, Dec. 30, 2000 | 2:13 a.m.

The witches are chanting: Green Goddess, Green Goddess, Green Goddess.

Two dozen of them, vying for space around a bonfire in the desert, monotonously repeat one another's names: Crimson Tiger, Crimson Tiger, Crimson Tiger. And then, "Mike, Mike, Mike."

Mike is wearing a fishing hat and jeans, has brought his wife and child and, like most of the others, is smiling.

It is yule, the winter solstice, and they have come to this tiny temple 50 miles northwest of Las Vegas to welcome the birth of the sun god.

This spooky affair, it turns out, consists mainly of a black-robed, 61-year-old woman passing around a 2-foot yule log and asking each person to share his or her gratitude and hopes for the new year, punctuated by the phrase, "I am happy."

"I am thankful for my family, and I hope they stay healthy," says a little girl, maybe 6 years old, bundled in a ski jacket and snow cap. "And I am happy."

The group cheers. She blushes and hands the log to the next pagan. Each person follows suit with warm wishes for family and friends, a few hope for "an end to corporate dominance" or "a new worldwide awakening to the pagan ways." After the ceremony, they mosey across the desert to a second bonfire, this one warming pots of bean soup and herbal tea. Here the conversation will range from vacation plans to a deep dissatisfaction with Judeo-Christian experiences, from gluten-free cookie recipes to the ills of patriarchy, until late in the night.

Although some religious scholars have dubbed paganism "the fastest growing religion in the nation," reliable numbers of pagans in the United States -- or in Las Vegas -- are difficult to assess as pagans are a loosely knit group. Some estimates put the U.S. pagan population at 500,000; local pagans estimate that there are about 3,000 in the Las Vegas area.

What makes the task of characterizing paganism's place in today's culture that much harder is that few agree on exactly what paganism, or neo-paganism, or "the Craft," actually encompasses.

Apparently it's many things: It's different things to different people, and appealing specifically because it is different from mainstream Judeo-Christian religions, from churchy traditions and from the status quo.

Generally "paganism" is accepted as an umbrella term for Wiccans, Shamans, Druids and an assortment of others whose spiritual beliefs are polytheistic and nature-oriented, or in some way focus on "magick" (spelled with a "k" to distinguish the belief in using the "universe's energy" for spiritual purposes from the magical illusions performed by entertainers.)

Like the paganism dating from ancient times, it incorporates a mix of gods, goddesses and superstition. But today's paganism draws from a larger selection of spiritual traditions from various continents and eras, combined with the modern-day politics of gender equity and environmentalism.

The Sekhmet Temple in Cactus Springs -- where the yule ceremony was performed -- houses dozens of icons, from a sculpture of Greek goddess Athena to Egyptian goddess Isis to an American Indian mother to the "Venus of Willendorf."

Instead of being promulgated through weekly church services, paganism is mainly distributed through metaphysical bookstores and the Internet.

"My personal belief is ... I see God as one being, which is multifaceted. Each facet is a different god or goddess," witch Julie Weiner, aka Snowden, said. "Then there is the belief in spirits and energy. The energy in rocks, trees, plants, flowers and animals tends to take on a personality ... This is one of the biggest touchstones of the pagan religion. It is a matter of loving the spirit ... inside of everything and everyone."

Pagan Jim Jacobson, 22, a United Parcel Service technical-support employee, has similar beliefs and practices his faith in the privacy of his home.

Disconnected

"Las Vegas has a really strong pagan community, but we're disconnected," Jacobson said. "You kind of have to check things out and see where you fit in. Just like in Christianity, some people are wackos, and some are sincere in their beliefs." Best known among the pagan population today are Wiccans, who get their name from a 1952 book "Witchcraft Today" written by Freemason Gerald Gardner. Wicce is an Anglo-Saxon word for witch, and a witch is defined as someone who "seeks to control the forces within him- or herself that make life possible in order to live wisely and well without harm to others and in harmony with nature," according to the Wiccan Religious Cooperative of Florida, a nonprofit organization founded in 1992.

Gardner set up eight holy days for Wiccans -- roughly based on old pagan solstices. He also incorporated some Freemason traditions and personal spiritual preferences.

Contrary to popular belief, Wiccans say they do not cast "evil" spells -- in fact, the main tenets of Wicca are "do what ye will and harm none," and the belief that one's actions -- good or bad -- will come back three-fold.

Since the publication of "Witchcraft Today," subsets of Wiccans have emerged -- gay and feminist and a host of other disenfranchised groups whose social position has ebbed and flowed on the outside of mainstream culture since the 1950s.

Sitting in a comfortable chair in the corner of her Cactus Springs trailer, Patricia Pearlman lights a cigar and explains that she has always known she was a witch.

"My family was always very superstitious," she says, puffing a little cloud of smoke into the den. "We went to church, but we were very well-versed in the Old Ways, too."

Pearlman has all of the props of witchcraft in her home: a broom by the door and a black cat that brushes up against visitors' legs. And she keeps a trailer in back of her own for anyone who needs a place to "take a break from everything."

"(Paganism) does appeal to a diverse group," Pearlman said. At the yule ceremony, participants ranged from a homeless man and a woman who lives in a school bus to a corporate banker and a suburban homemaker.

Pearlman's story is an example of the eclecticism found among today's pagans -- her life is steeped in old witchcraft traditions but rich with modern influences, from feminism to anti-establishment, anti-nuclear activism to an affiliation with the American Indian community.

Pearlman is a retired sex therapist from New Jersey.

She moved to Cactus Springs to take care of the Sekhmet temple, which was built in 1993 by a group of activist women called CHAOS -- Cooking Housing and Other Stuff -- and named after the creator goddess Sekhmet. The temple was built on 22 acres purchased by anti-nuclear activist Genevieve Vaughan, who had been protesting at the Nevada Test Site. When it became apparent that the temple would only require 2 acres, she gave the other 20 to the local Shoshone tribe.

Pearlman and her boyfriend live on the land and care for the temple, one of few open temples in the secluded pagan community.

"We welcome everybody to the temple. Some groups are very theatrical, they have robes and accoutrements, and some are more practical. It's just like Christianity's denominations. The Catholics have their robes and the holy water, other churches don't.

"But we all believe in the 'power within,' rather than the patriarchal religions' belief in the 'power over.' And we believe in going with nature, not against it.

"Here you don't have to pay anybody. There are no middlemen. If you want something from the goddess, go ask her. More experienced people will help you if you need help, but it is really between you and the goddess.

"There is no devil worshipping here. We are tapping into the energy of the universe," Pearlman said. "And we are having fun."

Misconceptions

Paganism has suffered some bad press, according to those gathered around the yule bonfire.

"The main misconception about it is that people think we worship Satan and sacrifice animals, which we do not," said Jacobson, who is a former Pentecostal Christian and has been a practicing pagan for six years. "My mother is convinced I'm going to hell. But it's a harmless religion."

In fact, most pagans see themselves as members of a class of historically persecuted spiritualists. They readily offer up stories of pagans being not only eschewed by Christians but executed in centuries past, driving followers underground to worship in secret groups called covens.

Las Vegas pagan Kalynda Tilges' 8-year-old son wears a pentagram pendant to school, but has learned to hide it under his shirt because other kids called him a "devil worshipper," she said.

"It bothers him because he doesn't even understand the concept of devil worshipping. That is a construct of the Christian Church, not paganism," Tilges said.

The pentagram is a general symbol of witchcraft and symbolizes humankind reaching toward the environment. It is worn for protection or luck.

Today's pagans believe that Christianity is largely responsible for slandering pagan beliefs and co-opting some of the ancient pagan rituals to eliminate pagan proliferation.

"Christians said that paganism is about Satanism to scare people away from pagan beliefs," Jacobson said. Paganism and Christianity have common elements from the use of chalices, candles and poetry, to similar iconography. For example, images of Catholicism's Virgin Mary and baby Jesus are remarkably similar to earlier Egyptian iconography of the goddess Isis nursing her offspring. "I know some very dedicated Christians whom I have a lot of respect for," Jacobson said. "But the thing that turned me off the church was the pure bigotry -- the idea that there is one idea that is right and everybody else is wrong.

"Paganism doesn't judge, and it doesn't discount anything," he said.

Pop culture

For all the misconceptions and ostracism, pieces of paganism seem rather ubiquitous in 21st-century popular culture. From "Harry Potter," the juvenile witch in a series of British children's books, to TV's "Sabrina, the Teen-age Witch"; from evergreen fantasy games such as "Dungeons and Dragons" to movies such as "The Craft," pagan rituals have found a market as an entertainment commodity if not a respected religion.

While schools in Kansas and Colorado have banned "Harry Potter" books because of parents' fears of witchcraft, Hollywood is busy making a movie based on the series. In England, the Pagan Federation last year appointed a youth administrator to deal with the flood of "Harry Potter"-inspired inquiries. According to the federation, there are more than 10,000 initiated witches and 100,000 pagans in England. In contrast, there are only about 4,000 Buddhists in England.

But many practicing pagans would like to see their beliefs respected by someone other than marketers. In the 1990s some pagan groups began trying to organize more formally, take censuses and participate in multifaith events.

In 1999 the president of a pagan organization called Covenant of the Goddess wrote a letter to the Parliament of World Religions saying, "The Wiccan community has continued to mature and stabilize. As we accrue a body of elders who have practiced our faith all of their adult lives, and we also see our children who have been raised within our faith now stepping up into leadership positions, there has been a broadening and deepening of the very structure of our religion itself."

And some strides toward acceptance have been made. For example, Wiccan services have been held on more than a dozen U.S. military bases, and U.S. military chaplains have been given guidelines to assist the Wiccans among their troops.

"It's still something some people feel they have to be discreet about," Pearlman said. "But it is surviving. It has always survived."

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