At the Wayah Witchery, located just outside of Franklin, about 20 Wicca followers gather to celebrate Lammas, one of eight sabbats held each year in Wiccan communities around the world.

A man lies naked on the alter, his red curly hair drifting in the damp breeze. He is stoically unafraid. The man is lifted and carried to the Circle’s eastern mark where a young man named Trede pushes a slip of paper into an open slit in the man’s abdomen, fingers working their way under the surface. On the slip of paper is written something which Trede is willing to give up, to go without, in return for the blessings of the deity.

The man is passed clockwise around the Circle. The adults each repeat the Trede’s actions, pushing their slips into the man’s abdomen until it is distended. The ends of paper stand quivering and erect like the shafts of arrows, having just pierced their target. The four children in the Circle tap the man twice on the head as he passes by.

A cauldron of fire burns in the middle of the Circle. The man is placed on the fire where his arms and legs begin to burn first. But the man does not scream.

The man is made of corn husks.

The search for acceptance

Lammas ritual leader, Chris, adopted her Gardenarian Wiccan faith after renouncing her Catholic faith. She made the decision after being told that she was forbidden to become a priest (women are not allowed to serve as Catholic priests) and later, publicly chided for arriving late to Mass.

She first read about Wicca in a book by Sybil Leek, then found a group where she was living in Manhattan with which to study and practice. At first, Chris chose not to tell her son, who is agnostic, about her change of faith.

But upon moving to Waynesville a few years ago, Chris said she received a “rude awakening” to the depths of the great Southern Bible belt and its bent toward Christianity and not much else.

“Now I’m just tired of lurking in the shadows,” she said.

Drawing strength from the Appalachian mountain mysticism and what she found to be a strong new age presence, she put aside any fears of being ostracized and instead made it a personal goal to educate those willing to listen.

“I don’t talk to them about it until they ask,” said a Sylva store owner who wished not to be identified. “It’s just a matter of not throwing it in people’s faces.”

Growing up in a Christian household, the store owner knew when she went to church that something wasn’t quite right.

“When I was really little I went to church every Sunday, but I kind of had my own ideas of how things worked and I didn’t really know there were other people who felt that way,” she said.

When she was 15, the store owner discovered paganism through friends. She was drawn to its non-judgmental tenets that are based on Kharma rather than guilt, and encouragement to take responsibility for one’s own actions.

She was limited to reading books about the faith until meeting Lianna Costantino-Cardon, a Wiccan high priestess, and finding acceptance and education. But even now, at age 28, she has yet to declare her faith to her parents.

“I’ve talked to them about my ideas, but I’ve never really said to them out and out, ‘OK Mom and Dad, I’m Wiccan’,” the store owner said.

And while acceptance, both from her Christian parents, and her community would be nice, it isn’t everything, the store owner said.

“It’s annoying,” she said, referring to religious intolerance. “But at the same time, I’m the type of person who, my religion is for me. As long as I get what I need out of it, who cares?”

Evolution of the Wiccan

To be Wiccan is to be pagan, but to be pagan is to be anything other than Christian, Muslim or Jewish.

“To say you’re a pagan, who knows what that can mean,” said Costantino-Cardon, high priestess of the Sylvan Hearth Pagan Temple to be erected in Jackson County and leader of Western Carolina University’s pagan student group.

The term “pagan” is derived from the Latin, paganis, meaning simply a country dwelling person. Pagan’s negative connotation developed slowly, first as the military class looked down on the poorer farmers, then as Christianity rose, the military adopted the faith, and their usage of the word came to mean “non-Christians,” Costantino-Cardon said.

The association of the term “heathen” with pagan beliefs, comes from the Nordic tribes which lived on the moors where the heather grew. Finally, the word “witch” is a bastardization of the ancient “wicce,” with the “ce” making the sound of an “h.” The wicce in a community were the women who served as midwives and had knowledge of herbs and practices such as dousing water. These practices became a large part of Wicca’s basis.

Wicca followers are not inherently witches, however. To follow Wicca is to subscribe to its tenets of faith, which are based on the Wiccan Rede, which states “do harm to none and do as you will,” and the Rule of Three, which states that anything you do will come back to you three-fold, good or bad.

“In basis you are only allowed to do good things,” said Labrys, owner of the Wayah Witchery.

Labrys, was first introduced to Wicca by her grandmother. Of Russian descent, her grandmother practiced Esoterian Wiccan, which she passed down to Labrys and one of her cousins, though none of her own 13 children. Labrys began studying Wicca at about the age of 5, going on to study with different teachers, spending as many as 11 years under the tutelage of one, and rising through ranks to earn the designation of high priestess.

Upon divorcing and moving from Michigan to Franklin in February of 2003, Labrys opened the Witchery adjacent to her home on Wayah Road, selling an assortment of crystals, incense, candles, books, clothing and weapons to be used in pagan faith practices, including Wicca.

Wiccans have a sacred text called the Book of Shadows, a hand-copied book of teachings and spells that is unique to its owner and grows with the accumulation of knowledge. The Wiccan deity shares the same concept of power as the Christian God, but it is thought to have both masculine and feminine components.

Emphasis on being outdoors and connecting with nature also is fundamental in Wiccan belief. What Christians know as church, Wiccans know as Circle, an outdoor worship.

“Wiccans do not worship within four walls,” Labrys said, referring to Circle and the services she holds in the Wayah Witchery front yard. “I have nothing to hide.”

Children are never forced into accepting the faith. They are invited to attend Circle, but must request to actually participate in the service. Most children raised in Wiccan households are given the opportunity to experience other religions and chose for themselves which one fits.

Those who follow Wicca and practice witchcraft — both Labrys and Costantino-Cardon — are known as witches.

To be a witch is to have learned how to focus one’s power and energy to accomplish a set goal. The tools — altars, wands, scepters, and so forth — are instruments through which to channel concentration, Costantino-Cardon said, not a hocus pocus whack-you-on-the-nose-and-turn-you-into-a-frog sort of thing. Learning to channel the concentration and raise life energy takes years to master, as opposed to those who read a book or two and think they’ve got the knack.

“Anybody can say they’re a witch,” Costantino-Cardon said.

And witchery is never executed against another person’s will or without their knowing, like when teenagers come in asking for love spells. Both Labrys and Costantino-Cardon said that’s not the type of thing they do. The love may not be mutual. It may be against one or both person’s best interests.

Those who come asking for spells for vague wishes such as having more money also are warned to be careful about what they wish for. Asking for more money may result in finding a dollar on the sidewalk the next day, not winning the lottery.

“You don’t get something if you don’t deserve it,” Labrys said.

As for the belief in whether or not it works?

“Obviously, I’ve had experiences that make me, a well-educated person, believe in it,” Costantino-Cardon said.

It’s all about perception

Costantino-Cardon learned her witchcraft in Italy, where she was born into a Stregheria household. Stregheria is said to be the old religion of Italy, formed around the beliefs of the pre-Etruscans, which focused largely on life after death. For example, it was thought that one must gain the favor of the Gods while living in order to enjoy the afterlife.

When she was young, Costantino-Cardon felt this heritage and this system of beliefs separated her from the rest, in a sort of “I am pagan hear me roar” kind of way.

“I quickly learned that wasn’t the way to do it,” she said.

However, Costantino-Cardon has earned a negative reputation from some members in the local pagan community for her public displays of Wiccan solidarity.

On March 3, Costantino-Cardon led a public meeting at Sylva’s Poteet Park to facilitate the organization of a pagan student group at Western Carolina University. The meeting drew criticism and protest from local Baptists as well as one sandwich board bedecked man —“Turn To Jesus, Study The Bible” — carrying a bullhorn, who Costantino-Cardon was photographed extending her hand to and being turned down. The photo was posted on message boards and Web blogs of both Christians and Wiccans.

Costantino-Cardon, although she has been involved with several public protests in support of the Wiccan faith, said that it was never her intention to ruffle feathers so soon after arriving in the Sylva community. She moved to Sylva not long after she was featured in a Dateline special filmed in Oklahoma about a clash between Wiccans and Christians. A Western student recognized her in Wal-Mart and asked her to help coordinate a pagan student group. Costantino-Cardon said “yes”, and ads were placed in The Sylva Herald, announcing the formation of the group and its upcoming meeting. Those ads were what alerted protestors to the gathering.

But protests and differences between Wiccans and Christians are nothing new. The question is how to deal with it.

“I don’t feel like there’s any distress between me and Christians and the reason I say that is because most of them don’t realize I’m pagan,” said the Sylva store owner and Wicca follower. “When they hear pagan they think of devil worship and things like that. It’s a fear of the unknown.”

The fear of the unknown may be what led to two men’s attempts at vandalizing the sign at the entrance to Wayah Witchery. The sign was first damaged Feb. 2, 2003, according to a report at the Macon County Sheriff’s Office. Additional reports of harassment and vandalism were made June 15, July 11, July 12 and July 22. On Aug. 2 the incidents escalated. The Wayah Witchery sign was burned, and a report of arson and vandalism was filed. On Sept. 13, a report of criminal trespassing was made. Then on Dec. 29, another arson report came in, and this time the sign was burned to the ground.

Dustin Louis Swafford, 20, and John Ray Hartley, 20, both of Macon County, were convicted of injury to personal property.

The men were sentenced on June 15 of this year to a year of probation and were ordered to pay $125 in restitution. The men also are not allowed to be near the Witchery or Labrys.

Throughout the investigation, Labrys’ home and business were categorized under several headings: “single family dwelling,” “church/synagogue/temple,” “other retail establishment,” “home of victim – other dwelling,” and “all other.”

The Federal Bureau of Investigation looked into the case but determined that it was not a hate crime. A hate crime is committed by someone who hates the race, religion, gender or creed of the victim.

Throughout it all, Labrys said she was never afraid for herself.

“If I am afraid, then I lack faith,” she said.

Rather, as she spent nights sleeping during the early evening and then sitting awake until 3 a.m. maintaining watch over the Witchery grounds. She was mainly worried about her father. He is 83, suffers from Parkinson’s disease, and is a Catholic.