"Never the twain shall meet?" Defending the Role of Magic in Hellenismos

Magic is a notoriously difficult concept to pin down. Scholars have been attempting to define the term for centuries, with only minimal success. It is often suggested that magic stands in opposition to religion, either as a primitive and flawed form of science, or as a debased superstition. However, one person's debased superstition is all too often another person's most cherished religious ideals. It is further suggested that what separates the magical worldview from the religious is the relationship that the individual has with the powers that be. The magician compels, coerces, or bribes the spirits, angels, Gods or other supernatural beings in an attempt to have his will manifested, while the religious person entreats, glorifies, and supplicates those beings, submitting themselves to the will of a higher power. While this distinction does have its usefulness in evaluating practices and beliefs, it is by no means a hard and fast rule. For instance, magical literature can be filled with highly devotional prayers which might be classed with some of the world's greatest religious poetry were it found in another context, and frequently there is an acknowledgement of man's impotence in the face of greater external powers. Additionally, as any student of history can attest, it is all too easy to mistake one's own personal biases and petty desires as the will of God, as one sees amply demonstrated in such instances as the Crusades, the Spanish Inquisition, and the rhetoric of popular television evangelists. Often, one may find the magical and the religious intermingled, employing the same practices, the same language, and even, occasionally, attempting to accomplish the same ends.

However, there are those within the Hellenic community who feel that they can easily recognize magic, even if a precise definition eludes them (shades of the Supreme Court ruling on pornography, no?) and they soundly denounce its presence within our religion. Their objections tend to run as follows: magic is insulting to the Gods as it minimizes their sovereignty and role in the world; it unrealistically inflates the status and abilities of humans; it is contrary to the laws of nature; it is antisocial and was condemned in antiquity; it was foreign to the Greeks, deriving from other cultures and time periods; and it has no practical usefulness and erodes true piety.

I will answer these charges in reverse order. (In a magical attempt to banish this issue, I'm sure some may suspect.) Magic(k), as the English Occultist Aleister Crowley defined it, is the art and science of causing change in conformity with the Will. In order to cause that change, you must be knowledgeable - regarding your Will (which is more than simply the seat of one's desires), the conditions around you, and the methods of affecting that change. Therefore, to have any proficiency in magic, one must engage in a quest for understanding which must of necessity not simply be intellectual but also experiential. One gains a profounder understanding of the shadowy recesses of their own being on the one hand, and of the workings and phenomena of the world that surrounds them on the other. As their awareness is broadened, they perceive things in a clearer light than before, and begin to grasp the subtle connections that exist between them. In learning how to manipulate these connections, their Will becomes strengthened, and they have more control in their life, as opposed to simply being a passive recipient of things. When things do go wrong, they understand that they must take the initiative and fix them, as opposed to sitting back idly and cursing the Gods as things continue to deteriorate. Therefore, magical study can lead to a better understanding of the world and the Gods' relationship to it, and through a proactive approach to life, a purer form of relationship with the Gods, devoid of the expectation that some congenial Sky Fairy is going to reach down and fix all of our problems.

It is fundamentally incorrect to assert the foreignness of magic within Greece. While the word mageia does derive from the Persian magos meaning priest or sacrificer, and suggested to the rationalistic Greeks of Fifth and Fourth century Athens practices that were uncanny, strange, and barbaric, those practices stretched back to the earliest antiquity of their race's presence in the country. Rituals to promote fertility and control the weather, to induce love or free one from its grasp, to bind or curse an enemy are found in all parts of the world, throughout every period of time, including in ancient Greece. Certain parts of the country were especially famed for their traditions of magic, most notably Thessaly where the witches were said to call down the moon and Hekate was given great honours, though defixiones or curse-tablets have even been found in the Athens of Socrates and Plato. Homer speaks of magicians knowledgeable in the properties of herbs such as the legendary molly, while Herakleitos scathingly mentions them in connection with the Maenads and Thyiades who rave for Dionysos. Euripides knows of the protective charms of Orpheus, and playwrights such as Sophocles and Aeschylos included fantastic scenes with witches to frighten and titillate their audiences, while authors such as Theophrastus and Lucan wrote more realistic depictions of magical ceremonies. Neoplatonists turned towards more philosophical types of magic - goetia and theourgia - to assist them in their ascension to and union with the One, and some of the greatest minds of the ancient Hellenic world - Iamblichus, Proclus, Apuleius - were passionate devotees of the art, and have left us extensive treatises on the subject. And then of course there are the Greek Magical Papyri, which represent a synchretic fusion of Greek, Egyptian, and Semetic traditions, and even offer a bridge linking the magic of antiquity with that of modern times, since groups such as the Golden Dawn and the O.T.O. used early translations of some of the texts in the creation of their rituals. (Most notably the Bornless One rite.) So to claim that magic had no place in ancient Greece is to demonstrate a profound and unforgiveable - considering the traditionalist and pseudo-academic stance of those who usually propose this view - ignorance of the material.

However, what of the charge that magic is antisocial and was soundly condemned by the ancient Greeks? It is true that we possess a number of prohibitions on harmful magic from the ancient world - most notably the Twelve Tablets of Roman law - and Plato forbid the practice by punishment of death in his ideal city as outlined in the Republic and Laws. Ancient Greek magic tended to be very agressive, using violent language and imagery even in love spells. (For instance, there are numerous clay and wood figures through which spikes or nails have been driven.) Additionally, there are many spells where the victim is consigned to the infernal powers, who are given leave to inflict him with the worst sort of torments, and we find spells that ask for athletes to break limbs, come down with fevers, and lose the race. There is often the fear that strangers or even members of one's own family will cast vindictive spells on an individual, and so people went to great length to protect themselves, often doing more damage to themselves through their anxiety than any spell ever could. But it is erroneous to assume that all magic must be like this, simply because some of it was. There is plenty of magic which aims at positive ends - the promotion of fertility, the construction of apotropaic charms, the discovery of lost items, the acquisition of hidden knowledge, the elevation of consciousness. Often, those same texts which forbid harmful magic made allowances for its beneficial forms, and we see from the notable personages of antiquity who were associated with magic that it could appeal to highly intelligent, ethical, and civic-minded individuals, in addition to the criminal element to which it is frequently linked. Indeed, magic - in both its high and low forms - has always been something marginal, uncanny, a fringe practice which seperated the few from the many. But, just because something is not well known, and its practioners formed a select minority, does not automatically mean that it is worthy of being condemned. After all, higher mathematics is hardly understood by the populace at large - its theorums are just as cloudy and shrouded in mystery as any cryptic passage from a dusty magical tome might be to the average person - but that shouldn't negate its value. After all, artists, poets, philosophers, scientists, doctors, etc. have historically always been on the outer fringes of society, and yet society would not exist without their contributions. Belonging to the herd is not necessarily the highest virtue.

The claim that magic violates the laws of nature would be a damning charge, were there anything to it. But how can we say that it does so, when we are not fully aware of how those laws operate? Scientists are constantly revising their notions of how the world functions as they make new discoveries and revise old ones. There was a time when everyone was certain that the sun revolved around the earth and that the atom was the smallest unit of measurement. Today, research into quantum physics is radically changing our conception of the world, suggesting that the observer's perception of phenomena may actually change them, which would have seemed the worst sort of heresy just a few generations ago. With new insights being gained all the time, and revolutions in science underway, can we truly claim to have a complete understanding of the laws of nature? I will grant that certain things do seem contrary to the way the world appears to function, and I will be the first one to offer skepticism when presented with seemingly absurd claims. (I challenged a Wiccan who asserted that they could levitate to take a walk off of a bridge and not only prove their amazing powers to one and all, but in doing so collect the one million dollars offered by skeptic James Randi: they inexplicably declined.)

Most magical systems postulate a series of concentric and interpentrating worlds or levels of reality, rising up from that of our physical, phenomenal senses, which is the most dense, to a point of absolute rarity, at once nothing and the source of everything. (Before you object that this idea derives from the Jewish Qaballah and thus has nothing to do with Hellenismos, take another look at the writings of Plato and Plotinos and see if you still maintain that.) Each world functions according to its own laws and dynamics, having qualities not possessed by the others. Therefore, while certain things are not generally possible in one world, they not only are possible in others, but may be the norm. This may account for some of the fantastic stories that have been passed down to us through legends: Aristeas being transformed into a raven, Apollonius of Tyana simultaneously being in two locations at once, the Thessalian witches drawing down the moon. These may be acounts of shamanistic experiences within other realms, grossly misinterpreted as having taken place in the normal, everyday phenominal world, where such things are not possible. Of course, that doesn't make them any less real or relevant because they transpire in another realm - far from it, in fact, as it would be a terrible mistake to assume that only that which could be seen with the eyes constituted reality. Another point must be made, however, and that is that these different layers of reality, these separate worlds, interpenetrate and influence each other. This influence works both ways: things done in the material realm can have a ripple effect felt in the higher ones, and ideas born there may manifest in this one. (All things originated as an idea first, before being given a tangible form. For instance, enough people thought, "Damn, I wish porn was more easily accessable," and lo, and behold - the internet was invented.) They do so, however, according to certain principles of contagion and laws of nature. The average magician, for instance, isn't going to be able to wave his wand and instantly have a bag of gold coins appear before him. But through the proper application of magical principles, he may be able to bend the laws of probability in such a manner that an unexpected windfall comes his way, for instance a beloved aunt deciding to leave him a nice chunk of change in her will and then kicking the bucket or a new job opportunity suddenly opening up for him. Such examples may easily be dismissed as mere coincidence by skeptics, but when they begin to happen with a certain regularity, it does lend credence to the theory of magic.

But doesn't this violate the proper gulf which separates the mortal from the divine in Hellenic religion? At Delphi, one finds the inscription 'Know Thyself' which scholars interpret not as an injunction towards self-examination, but rather in the sense of 'Know that you're a mortal, and observe the proper limits of your race'. From a traditional Hellenic perspective, the claims of the magicians and their fabulous powers would seem more apropriate being attributed to the Gods themselves as opposed to humans. There is a very pragmatic answer to this charge. For Crowley, magic was nothing more (or less!) than causing change in conformity with the will. But don't we do that all the time? For instance, if my stomach suddenly starts to rumble, and I get up and make myself a bowl of coucous, have I not then made a change in conformity with my will not to be hungry? While this may seem a great deal removed from most people's conceptions of magic, it is only different in the fact that the magician uses subtler, less understood means to accomplish his will. Perhaps a better example might be the vacuous, talentless, carbon-copy boy bands which nevertheless persuade droves of screeching young girls to purchase their albums. Certainly, there is no logical reason why their music should be so popular, but somehow they are able to exert their will and compel their fans to shell out their parents' hard-earned money on their behalf. Clearly, this is something that falls within the realm of mortality, something innate within all humans, even if it remains inaccessable for most of us. It is inaccessable only because we are not familiar with how to do this, because there are other influences which counteract our charisma - like the fact that we're an unemployed, overweight, balding 30 year old still living at home with mother - or perhaps because we're simply not interested in making little girls scream for us. In the same way, magical abilities are not something outside of the human condition, they are little-understood skills which remain untapped by the vast majority of people for any number of reasons, but which some people have chosen to exercize and explore.

The final charge is perhaps the most difficult to answer, because honestly, I don't have a direct line in to the Gods, and so cannot know whether they do, in fact, find such practices insulting. Without this knowledge, I hesitate to put words in their mouths, either for or against it. I suppose that one could point to the fact that Wiccans have been doing their thing for decades now without getting smote by

lightning-bolts from Olympos, but you can't prove a point through lack of evidence. After all, the Gods may feel that the silly names that Wiccans inflict upon themselves is punishment enough, or they may have special torments in store for them in the world to come - but somehow I doubt it. Rather, I think that it is the type and intent of magic which must be taken into consideration.

For instance, a spell wherein a God is commanded, threatened, and coerced to do the magician's bidding is clearly suggests asebia or impiety to me. In it, the Gods are treated as little more than cosmic bell-hops, forced to act at the whim of a mere mortal. Not only is this insulting, it's downright foolish, seeing as the Gods, even the least powerful among them, possess greater power and wisdom than even the most accomplished human. There may, as the Orphics maintain, be something divine within us, but we possess that quality in such small and dilluted amounts that it would be like comparing a puddle to the Mediterranean sea.

However, spells such as that are by no means the only type of magic. It is quite possible to perform magic that in no-wise violates themis or the principle of religious law. Magic may attempt to enlist the assistance of divine forces without threats or coercion. One can also perform magic that attempts to help balance the natural order, bring evil to justice, assist the person in discovering the will of the Gods, or help the magician draw closer to them, as in theourgia. Additionally, the Gods themselves were said to have imparted magical practices to mankind, most especially Hermes, who under his surname Trismegestos presided over the magical arts from antiquity to the modern Occult boom, especially Renaissance Alchemy.

Of course, after all of this, I do not want to give the impression that I feel that magic is somehow an essential element within Hellenismos, that those who do not practice it are somehow lacking, or that the criticisms that the staunch traditionalist faction have offered against magic are not without merit. Indeed, magic is not for everyone, and there are solid reasons for excluding it from a certain type of Hellenic practice. (I also think that many magicians should take a good, hard look at those critiques, and try to understand what they are saying.) However, it is both inaccurate and intellectually dishonest to suggest that their form of Hellenismos is the only valid one, and that magic has no place in any kind of Hellenic practice. Certainly if our cultural ancestors were willing to grant magic a marginal place within the religion - and sometimes more than that - we should too.

© 2005 H. Jeremiah Lewis