MOUNT HOREB, Wis. -- It started out as a simple job search.
But it turned into a witch hunt.
Make that a Witch hunt. For the person hired last month as Wisconsin's newest
prison chaplain was the Rev. Jamyi Witch--who said she long ago chose that last
name "because I am one." Witch is proud to be a witch and the first
Wiccan priestess in the nation to serve as a full-time state prison chaplain.
Yet her appointment has put some taxpayers in a tizzy. A state
representative--from, of all places, West Salem--is leading a drive to yank
funding for Witch's $32,500-a-year post, saying taxpayers "shouldn't be
forced to accept this hocus-pocus." Two other lawmakers have joined him in
outrage; one called Witch's appointment "morally dangerous."
Meanwhile, callers have swamped the prison switchboard, the state Legislature
and radio talk shows with pro-Witch or anti-Witch tirades. And they've
contacted the new chaplain directly too: One day she came home to 76 phone
messages and 432 e-mails.
"It's been off the Richter scale," state Rep. Scott Walker, a
Republican who is lobbying to boot Witch from her post, said with a sigh.
Walker said his constituents are fiercely opposed to Chaplain Witch. But Witch
said she's received mostly supportive calls. Aside from a few death threats,
she said, "the overwhelming consensus has been: 'You go, girl. We're
behind you.' "
She has cried, at times, in the tumult of the last few weeks. But mostly, Witch
has managed to keep her chin up. And no, there's not a wart on it.
Witch, 43, is accustomed to people looking around for the pointed hat and broom
when they meet her. To her, however, "witch" is simply a religious
description--like "Protestant" or "Jewish." It denotes a
practitioner of Wicca, a pagan religion that sees the divine in every element
of nature. Exact numbers are hard to come by, but religious scholars estimate
there are at least 50,000 Wiccans in this country and perhaps as many as
200,000.
Wiccans--and Witch--do practice magic. But it's not eye-of-newt abracadabra.
Witch's brand of magic involves focusing psychic energy on a worthy goal, using
meditation to achieve good. It is, she said, just another word for prayer.
And it can be used only for healing. Wiccans are absolutely forbidden to use
magic to enact curses.
That prohibition disappointed some of the inmates Witch counseled as a
volunteer minister in several prisons before she got the chaplain job at
maximum-security Waupun Correctional Institution in southeast Wisconsin.
"I lost a lot of men when I explained it. If they didn't have the power to
melt prison bars, they weren't interested," she recalled with a chuckle.
Still, several inmates--sometimes a dozen or more--stuck with Wicca at each
prison she visited. "Those who felt the calling of Mother Nature and
Goddess Earth stayed," she said.
Witch stayed too, drawn to the volunteer work, feeling a "sacred duty"
to help the prisoners find a path to a better life. Although she changed her
last name (from Welch) in part to spark conversation about her faith, Witch
insists she never proselytizes. She works only with those who come to paganism
on their own. "I'm never out to convert, just inform," she said.
Her critics, however, don't trust her. And they have nightmares of her using
her chaplain's post to suck criminals into the "cult" of bizarre
ritual that Wicca represents to them. In their view, a chaplain should be
showing inmates that they're accountable to an almighty God, not showing them
how to sprinkle herbs as offerings to the goddesses of Mother Earth.
"There isn't one study that I'm aware of that shows that witches have
reformed any prisoners," said Republican Rep. Mike Huebsch, the lawmaker
from West Salem.
Stung by the brouhaha that Witch's appointment has stirred, the warden at
Waupun declined requests for interviews. Last month, however, he defended Witch
as the best of nearly a dozen candidates he had interviewed--with the character
to do the job well. "Jamyi is an outstandingly approachable person,
somebody that I wouldn't mind approaching on spiritual matters myself,"
Warden Gary McCaughtry told the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel.
In addition to her volunteer prison ministry, Witch has worked with battered
women in shelters and dying patients in hospices. A mother of two, she is a
Girl Scout leader and school volunteer here in Mount Horeb, an artsy town that
bills itself as "the troll capital of the world" because the main
street is lined with carved wooden trolls.
Witch earned her ordination as a Wicca priestess from a nearby congregation
called Circle Sanctuary. There is no formal theological curriculum--no seminary
for pagans--but High Priestess Selena Fox said Witch spent years studying the
Wiccan faith and counseling pagans in crisis in preparation for ministry.
"I'm a good person. I really am," Witch said, rubbing the ears of a
sick old greyhound she rescued after his racing career ended. "I have
earned this position."
State officials say Witch does indeed meet all the requirements for the job of
chaplain, and they point out that it would be illegal to deny her the post on
the basis of her faith. Members of hate groups or satanic cults are not allowed
to serve as chaplains. But in Wisconsin, Wicca is recognized as a religion on
par with Catholicism or Islam.
While several states, including California, allow volunteer Wiccan chaplains in
their prisons, Witch is the first to land a full-time, tax-funded post.
"Jamyi has made history," Fox said.
Critics point out that just 30 out of 1,200 inmates at Waupun identify
themselves as Wiccan. (There is one other full-time chaplain there, a
Protestant.) "Why are we paying a woman $35,000 a year to work with just
30 inmates?" asked Walker, the state lawmaker.
In response, Witch notes that a large part of any chaplain's job is to bring in
volunteer ministers of other faiths, so that all spiritual needs can be met.
For instance, she recently organized a religious feast, presided over by a
visiting imam, for Muslim inmates to mark the end of Ramadan.
Chaplains also are responsible for making sure all prisoners have the tools
they need to worship, be it a Bible or sacred crystals. In fact, Witch said,
very little of her job involves one-on-one spiritual ministry, although when
called upon, she said she can offer guidance to anyone of any faith. Without
resorting to witchcraft.
"They think I'm teaching all the inmates to chant spells," she said
with a rueful smile. "If I had one-eighth of the power that people are
crediting me with, I wouldn't be sitting in Waupun Correctional [Institution]
working my butt off. I'd have my patootie up on a velvet cushion with people
throwing grapes at me. Or cheeseburgers."