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 to be 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,'' said state Rep. Scott Walker, a Republican who is lobbying to boot Witch.
`SACRED DUTY'
Walker said his constituents are fiercely opposed to Chaplain Witch. But Witch said she has received mostly supportive calls. Aside from a few death threats, she said, ``The overwhelming consensus has been: `You go, girl. We're behind you.' ''
Witch, 43, is accustomed to people looking around for a pointed hat 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. Religious scholars estimate there are at least 50,000 Wiccans in this country and perhaps as many as 200,000.
Wiccans 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 people who come to paganism on their own.
WARDEN SILENT
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.
VOLUNTEER WORK
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 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.
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.
While several states allow volunteer Wiccan chaplains in their prisons, Witch is apparently the first to land a full-time, tax-funded post.
Critics point out that only 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.
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.
``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 . . . [the prison] working my butt off.