Some Ethics of Magic

Yesterday afternoon, after a couple days spent working on the computer, I decided that I needed to get out of the house and take a walk. I find that just being outside is a great way to reconnect with yourself as well as Existence in general. It gives me time to appreciate and to reflect on the world within and around me. On this particular walk, I spent sometime contemplating magic, in particular the ethics of using magic. I thought that I would share these thoughts with you.

When most people think of Paganism, and Witchcraft especially, they automatically conjure up images of people in long robes dancing wildly in circles while trying to drum up energy—in other words, they think of magic. While this may be an unavoidable knee-jerk reaction for some people, on an educational level, I have to completely disagree with it. True, many Pagans and many Witches do practice magic, at least occasionally. However, I firmly believe that the practice of magic is separate from both of these paths—it is a distinctive and independent discipline. And, although magic may be drawn into Pagan and Witchcraft practices, it is not an essential nuance.

I currently live in a community that hosts a booming Pagan culture, and I am very happy about this. It is great to see so many people “out, loud, and proud.” Yet, I am always a little dismayed when I go to a larger Pagan gathering. It seems that 99% of the workshops, lectures, and group rituals that I have attended deal not with Pagan religions and traditions, but rather with some form of magic. I understand that magic definitely figures into a generalized Pagan spirituality, but what about the religions that underlie this spirituality? When did Paganism stop being a group of religions and diverse spiritualities to become a magical tradition? I claim to participate in a Pagan religion. Yet my religion does not rely on or use magic. Where does this leave my path?

This is my problem with magic: in the modern Pagan community, magic replaces religion.

Now, before I go any further, what do I mean by ‘magic?’ Truth be told, there are many different and diverse definitions of this word, but I will stick with the one that I find rolls off my tongue best: magic is the conscious manipulation of natural energies so as to bring about a desired change. It involves focusing intent and using that intent to shape the world around us. This is done by tapping into the individual Divine Essence (i.e. soul) that each person harbors.

Now to get back to my point, where does the use of this personal Divinity end and the relationship with the Gods begin? In the modern Pagan communities, I see too much reliance on personal (magical) Divinity, and I think that people are beginning to substitute—or have already substituted—magic for religion. Part of this may be due to the age in which we live; we have seriously lost our cultural understanding of tribe and community (but that is another topic altogether). And, perhaps at least part of this has to do with the ever decreasingly popular belief that the Gods are all just archetypal models and are therefore contained within the human soul. In any case, I do not see placing magic before religion as a good idea.

As alluded to above, I firmly believe that each everyone—and every“thing”—has a personal soul. This soul is the absolute Divine Essence which allows the person to exist, and is itself Divine, obviously. I also firmly believe that all of these individual souls are part of a larger, collective soul—something which I call Anam (Irish for “soul”)—and that this larger soul is the Supreme Source. (This belief is parallel to that of the atman/Brahman philosophy of Hinduism.) Essentially, then, humans and all “things” are Divine.

But if humans are, at their cores, Divine, it doesn’t matter if they practice magic over seeking religion, right? They are the same as the Gods themselves, right? Wrong and, yet again, wrong.

Humans may be Divine at their cores, but they are not Divine beings in and of themselves, and this makes all the difference. As humans, we are not always aware of our Divinity and its ramifications. Our human nature often causes us to forget about the Divine—a concept which is very prominent within Islam. Because of this forgetfulness, we are disconnected from our highest Divine Selves. True, we do have the ability to realize this Divinity and we continually grow in understanding of it, but until we have reached a state of “liberation”—such as Hindu moksha—we are not totally aware of our Divinity. To act as our own Deity, then, creates a number of problems. Not being able to fully see our Divine Selves, we fall into the traps of human nature, such as unnecessary and unbalanced qualities of lust, desire, pride, and greed. In this light, being our own, ultimate Divine is simply a bad, bad idea.

Gods, on the other hand, are more evolved than humans. They are higher spirits, and thus they are able to recognize both their own and the “general” Divinity better. I do not believe that Gods are perfect beings, but I do surely believe that they are more knowledgeable and more insightful. A God is close to his or her Divinity and is therefore able to understand and use it in a much more effective, better, and smarter way. When humans rely on Gods (e.g. religion) instead of themselves (e.g. magic), they are not necessarily saying that everything is going to be perfect. But they are allowing to be made better. Gods do not have the same “muddied” qualities as humans, at least not in the same way. They are therefore less likely to spin things in a truly selfish and sinister manner, and they are way more likely to understand the wider ramifications of the situation and to treat is accordingly—something human magic just cannot always do.

The above discussion leaves an odd question in my mind: If all of this is true, is there ever a reason to use magic?

I believe that the answer to this question is a hearty yes. I believe that magic is a great spiritual tool, and that it can—and in some cases even should—be used. When performed sensibly it has the ability to accomplish tremendously wonderful things. Great healing, peace, and joy have been achieved through magical efforts. Not to mention that magic is capable of uniting the Divine Self with the Greater Divinity, allowing the practitioner to realize a deeper level of Existence—a truly wonderful thing. Yet, the key in all of this that magic must be used sensibly.

What does this mean: performing magic sensibly?

As already discussed, magic uses personal Divinity so as to create a desired change. However, the human understanding of this Divinity is imperfect and so it leads to problems. In lieu of this, my answer to the question is that performing magic sensibly means leaving the effects of the magic up to a higher power—i.e. one that better understands the nature of Divinity/Existence, such as a God.

This is actually incredibly easy and astoundingly more beneficial to do. To perform this kind of sensible magic, raise energy as you would normally, filling it with your intention(s). Then, instead of releasing it, turn it over to a higher power. In this sense, the raised energy serves as an offering for the higher power—the rite of magic also becomes a rite of sacrifice. You then give the energy over to the higher being, stating that this energy is given for a purpose and that you entrust the being to know better than yourself on this matter. In this scenario, magic is both a product of and reinforces religious relationships between the practitioner and the higher beings of the religion.

Here is an example of what I mean:

Say that I had recently been having some trouble producing a sustainable income. Feeling an affinity with candle magic, I whip out my green candle, cover it in clove oil, sprinkle basil around it, and carve the Ogham luis into it. Having decorated the candle with my intent, I then lay my hands over it and chant/focus energy into it. Once I feel that all the energy has been absorbed and that the candle is aligned with my purpose, I say the following prayer: “An Dagda! Lord of prosperity and plenty! Lord from whom no one ever went away unsatisfied! I craft this spell and place it before you this day, seeking a decent income. A Ollathair, let this energy be a sacrifice to you, that you may appoint me a sufficient purse, for you are wiser than I. My honor to you always!” As usual, the candle is then lit and left to burn out.

In the above example, the energy is an offering to An Dagda in hopes that he will use it to appoint you a sustainable income. In a very crude sense, this form of sacrificial magic is akin to hiring an agent: If you were going on vacation in a foreign country for the first time, it may be wise of you to hire a travel agent. The agent will make sure that everything winds up in its proper place and at its proper time. Of course, the agent needs to know where you are looking to go, for how long, how much you wish to spend, etc. There is also a fee (a sort of gratuity) presented to the agent in exchange for his or her help. Using this metaphor, An Dagda acts as the agent, making sure that all things go smoothly and appropriately; your energy is the information needed to plan the trip; and any extra energy left over after the spell is the gratuity for the agent.

I find the above means of sensible magic not only the most, well, sensible, but also the most effective. If it is a truly important cause, I have at times even felt the God or Goddess lend his or her own energy to the spell, making it all the more effective.

All of this being said, I do not feel that humans must use this system every time they practice magic. (Although I do believe that it would be much more beneficial if they did!) If it is a small and hurried working, such as the consecration of water, it is perhaps less necessary to entrust the spell to a higher power than if you were working to end a global conflict. Still, it never hurts to include the powers of your religion. As I have stated a number of times throughout this essay: Magic should NOT replace religion. Rather it should be a means of reinforcing religious beliefs, ideas, and relationships.

Think of it this way:

A wave sees where its destination lies; yet it does not know the destination of a wave half-way around the world. We are the waves. Why, then, do we not entrust those who can see the whole ocean with directing its flow?