Campus Witches May Wear Black, but Don't Look for Hats or Broomsticks

Inspired by environmentalism, feminism, and TV, more students embrace pagan beliefs

By LEO REISBERG

As dusk falls on the University of Georgia campus, eight students meet in a secluded garden not far from the bustle of this college town and stand in a circle around a sundial.

The garden is insulated by trees, shrubs, and a brick building that looks spooky in twilight. Civilization seems far away; leaves rustle in the autumn breeze, crickets chirp in the distance, fallen pine cones crackle underfoot.

The quiet is broken by Michael Johnson, a sophomore, who leads the group: "We are a circle within a circle, with no beginning and never ending," he sings. One at a time, the seven others join him, clasping hands until each has sung a chorus.

Some of the participants are dressed in Goth black. One young woman has a green streak flowing through her dark hair. Another is wearing a pentacle around her neck. Others, like Mr. Johnson, in an earthy-brown sweater, khaki pants, and a silver ring in his right eyebrow, look like they just walked out of the Gap.

"The circle is cast," he says. "We expel from the circle all energies and forces that may come to do us harm. We bring into the circle all energies and forces that are good and right for us."

So begins the Athena Ritual, a "protection spell" for the university's hometown, named for the Greek goddess of warfare and wisdom, on the night of a new moon last month.

These students are part of a growing pagan movement on campuses in the United States. Followers revere everything in nature as having a divine energy and believe in a polytheistic structure of gods and goddesses. They embrace a variety of earth-based beliefs, including traditions of ancient Celtic, Norse, Egyptian, druid, and shamanistic origin. Their most significant influence is Wicca, a religion with roots in pre-Christian Europe, which is often referred to as witchcraft. Many pagans, even those without Wiccan influences, call themselves witches.

For some observers, these terms conjure up images of satanic rituals and animal sacrifice, which adherents say are false stereotypes that have nothing to do with their beliefs.

They may not wear pointy black hats or ride broomsticks, but they do cast spells, including ones for healing, love, and success, and they perform rituals for lunar cycles, solstices, and equinoxes.

This month, they are preparing for their most important holiday, on October 31, which they call Samhain, or "summer's end." On that night, they perform a ritual in an attempt to channel the spirits of long-dead ancestors, a tradition that is said to have evolved into Halloween.

Many followers say they were disenchanted with the rigid structure of mainstream religions. Paganism is more individualistic, allowing them to shape their own belief systems by combining a variety of traditions. And Wicca, in particular, is practiced predominantly by women, who see it as an opportunity to take leadership roles that they might be less likely to find in mainstream denominations.

Peggy Foy, a sophomore who is a member of the Georgia group, was raised in a Roman Catholic household and went to Catholic schools. But she always had nagging questions. She once asked her teachers, "What about people who never heard of Jesus? Are they going to hell because of that?"

"One of my religion teachers said that the church has acknowledged more than one path to grace, so I said, 'Aha, that's my out!'"

Ms. Foy was attracted to paganism, she says, because it "recognizes power in nature, not just an external force."

It's no coincidence, scholars and followers say, that paganism is growing in an era when environmentalism and feminism are among the movements that have dominated campus discourse.

"Paganism reverberates with [those] two very powerful and culture-changing movements we've had now for several generations," says John K. Simmons, a professor of religious studies at Western Illinois University.

Paganism's increased visibility in recent years appears due in part to the spreading of the word via the Internet, as well to television shows like Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Charmed, which portray witches as strong women who use their power to do good. Pagan practitioners who once tended to keep quiet about their religious beliefs now realize that they are not alone.

"It's become safer for pagans to go public with their faith," says Cairril Adaire, national coordinator of the Pagan Educational Network, a witches' advocacy group in Bloomington, Ind. (Cairril is her given name, Adaire her pagan name. She doesn't use her original last name.)

On college campuses in the past several years, many pagan groups that were once underground have become official student organizations. They are active at Auburn University, the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Purdue University, Pennsylvania State University at University Park, Rowan University, the University of California at Riverside, and the University of Florida, among other institutions.

The Witches' Voice, a national advocacy group that formed four years ago, includes on its World Wide Web site links to adult, college, and youth pagan groups. It lists 113 college groups; 38 were added in September alone.

Two years ago, Ms. Adaire says, the Pagan Educational Network received its first request for information from a college student wanting to start a pagan group on her campus. Now she receives requests every other month.

"College has always been a time for experimentation," says Amanda Wolfe, co-president of Georgia's Pagan Student Association. "It's a time when a lot of people might question their religion or seek religion."

The five-year-old Pagan Student Association at Georgia is one of the oldest such college groups. In the past two years, its membership has doubled, to 20, and the number of students who have attended meetings increased from a high of 25 in 1997-98 to a high of 45 last year. (By comparison, hundreds of students attend services of various Christian denominations every Sunday here.)

Neither the Pagan Educational Network nor the Witches' Voice tries to track the number of college students who practice the faith, largely because many are still, as pagans say, "in the broom closet."

Many live in fear of harassment if they reveal their beliefs; even those who have practiced openly are reluctant to talk about their experiences. Often, even their parents are kept in the dark.

Michaelle Purdee, a member of Georgia's pagan group, was, like Ms. Foy, raised in a strong Catholic household. But when she was about 12, she says, "it started hitting me that I wasn't getting anything out of it."

Assuming that her spiritual exploration was just a phase, her mother gave Ms. Purdee a book on paganism. "She bought the book to broaden my horizons, but I started finding that paganism really worked for me."

Now a senior studying pre-veterinary medicine, Ms. Purdee still hasn't told her parents that she's a Wiccan.

"If they knew, it would break my grandmother's heart," she says. "Why bring on the angst if I don't have to?"

Ms. Foy finally told her devoutly religious mother this summer. "One of her first questions was, 'Do you worship Satan?'"

Pagans explain that they don't believe in Satan. Nor do they cast spells that would manipulate or harm others, whether animal or human. There is, indeed, a witches' code of ethics, known as the "Wiccan Rede": "An ye harm none, do what ye will." Another passage advises, "What ye send forth comes back to thee, so ever mind the Rule of Three," which promises that what Wiccans do in their actions -- good or bad -- returns to them threefold.

For the most part, the Georgia group says, people on the campus have not only tolerated but welcomed their activities. But there have been confrontations. Members of one Christian group have stood outside the pagan group's meetings and prayed for their souls. And when the pagans have attempted to recruit new members, they have been approached by Christian students who warn them of an afterlife in hell.

The Rev. Robert G. Beckwith, director of the Wesley Foundation, a Methodist group on the campus, chose his words carefully when discussing the pagan group.

"Our intent is not to debate others whose stated purposes and beliefs are very much opposed to ours," he says. "We seek a relationship with God as he revealed himself through the Testaments and revealed himself through Christ. They seek to touch the supernatural apart from Christ, and that's never a good thing."

At Stephen F. Austin State University, in Texas, a small band of Wiccan students faced a heated battle in their quest to form a pagan society last fall. Religious leaders at the college opposed the effort, but the Student Government Association approved the new group by a vote of 16 to 15.

The battle didn't end there. In the spring, the Chi Alpha Christian Fellowship hung a banner across the university's main entrance, reading: "This campus belongs to God," and quoting Psalms 24:1: "The Earth is the Lord's and everything in it, the world and all who live in it."

Critics, including members of the Pagan Student Alliance, said the banner infringed on the constitutional separation of church and state. Its spirit was retaliatory, they argued, because the pagans had advertised their meetings just two weeks earlier using chalk drawings on the sidewalks. The Christian group responded that the banner had nothing to do with the pagan presence on the campus.

Not all Christians consider pagan students a hostile force. "My main concern is to defuse some of the hysteria about this," says Bruce D. Forbes, a professor of religious studies at Morningside College, a Methodist institution, and a minister in the United Methodist Church. "People assume that paganism and witchcraft are the same thing as satanism, but most pagans and Wiccans are very opposed to Satanism."

That leaves the question: What kind of magic do pagans believe they perform? In reality, much of it is psychological, sort of a placebo effect, often with candles and crystals to reinforce their beliefs. And even witches don't think that their spells are guaranteed to work.

"If there's something that I would like to see occur, I'm going to put myself into a consecratory ritual space and will meditate deeply on that subject and open myself up to the gods and to the life force," says Ms. Adaire, of the Pagan Educational Network.

After years of being "a very angry atheist," she became a witch in the early 1990s, while studying graphic design at Indiana University in Bloomington. She first tried a "money spell," she says, to make sure that witchcraft wasn't just a gimmick. Subsequently, she recounts, her financial aid was increased for no apparent reason, she received a well-paying work-study job, and her parents lent her money.

The experience was "a little creepy," she says, but she adds that magic is more of an "internal transformation." For instance, a witch who performs a money spell may not win the lottery, but may become more frugal.

Ms. Wolfe, co-president of the Georgia pagan group, likens magic spells to "the power of positive thinking."

"A spell is like a prayer," she says. "Its function is to use our ability and our connection with the divine to make change and increase the possibility of something happening.

"If I do a love spell, maybe it'll increase the possibility of falling in love, or maybe someone will give me a hug, or maybe my mom will call. If I had a sore throat, I take a cup of hot tea and ask the divine forces to make the tea stronger or bless it with healing qualities."

Last month, Ms. Wolfe was among the witches asking the divine forces to bless Athens, Ga., as the group does twice each month.

After casting the circle, the group turns to face the east, the south, the west, then the north, each direction representing one of the four elements (air, fire, water, and earth, respectively).

Standing in the easternmost position, August Gandy, a tall, goateed student dressed in black, his hair pulled back into a ponytail, raises his head and his arms toward the darkening sky.

"Sacred guardians of the watchtower of the east," he calls out, "sylphs of air, spirits of understanding and enlightenment, we call to you and ask you to join us in our circle to watch over us, and to help us complete the great work."

After a few more chants, the students summon the spirit of the Greek goddess. "Lady Athena, thank you for your presence here tonight," says Mr. Johnson, the group leader. "We pray that you take our energy and use it for the protection of everyone in the city. We thank you for all you have done in the past."

Mr. Gandy lights a stick of incense, and the students again face the four directions in turn and bid the spirits farewell. After another chant -- "The circle is open but never broken" -- they depart with their usual closing: Blessed be.