Wiccans in the metro area often celebrate their nature-based pagan religion alongside the secular delights of Christmas
The full moon rises over Tigard as two women settle beside a cauldron. One lights a small bundle of sage, and a plume of smoke curls up between their hands and faces as they summon the Greek goddess of wisdom.
Blessed goddess Athena, hear our prayer. We call on thee tonight to ask for wisdom . . .
The Wise Moon ritual is one of several winter celebrations honored by those in the Circle of the Sapphire Flame, a Wiccan group with members from Tigard, Beaverton, Milwaukie and Portland. Winter Solstice follows on Monday.
Yet as Christmas approaches, many practitioners of Wicca -- a pagan religion characterized by reverence for nature's forces, usually symbolized by a goddess or god -- will celebrate Santa Claus, sing carols and tuck presents under trees. In fact, last week's celebration in a small Tigard apartment -- full of wands, sparks and intonations -- was held two feet from a glittering Christmas tree.
"Santa? Absolutely," says Rowan, who to the world beyond the circle is Sarah Mason, a 27-year-old freelance writer from Milwaukie. "I put up holiday decorations. Frosty the Snowman, sure. And when I have children, they'll have Santa."
Like many Wiccans, Rowan's practice draws from many cultures and religions. Witches -- many of whom hide their practice for privacy or fear of persecution -- often say they wish people of other religions were as accepting of Wicca.
"It's painful," says Ember, 33, the circle's high priestess. The Tigard businesswoman talked on the condition that her legal name not be used because she fears a negative response from co-workers and extended family.
She's secretly practiced for eight years but hasn't "come out of the broom closet" yet, in part because she's heard her co-workers discuss Wicca.
"I've felt scared and sad that these people I adore would all of a sudden be disgusted with the idea of there being witches," she says.
Wicca still misunderstood Though tracking groups report Wicca as one of the fastest-growing religions in the United States, and though local experts say there are more than 50 pagan groups in the Portland area, Wiccans still get some pretty crazy questions, she says.
Are you guys like Harry Potter? Can you turn your boyfriend into a toad?
"No, you can't turn your boyfriend into a toad," she says, rolling her eyes and laughing. "We don't cast evil spells. We're not into group sex. We'll get calls like that -- 'Hey, are you the group where you get to . . .' No, no, no. You've got the wrong group."
Established five years ago, Ember's circle has two main goals: to help Wiccans learn magic and develop personally, she says.
So what are witches doing when they're following spell books and trying to make things happen?
"It could be a healing spell, a wisdom working, a money spell, a job spell, a working to release negative feelings," says Rowan, curled in a chair in her Milwaukie living room. On a television nearby, "Sabrina the Teenage Witch" winks and vanishes in a cloud of twinkles.
Of course, she says, "one must take steps in their nonmagical life to follow through. If you are doing a job spell, you need to be actively sending out your resume."
Testing their skills At a time of the year when many students have gone on holiday break, Rowan -- who's practiced Wicca for 13 years -- is still cramming for the circle's standard tests to become a high witch. There's a lot of homework; most witches follow the ancient tradition of hand-copying all of their lessons into their own books.
All circle members take tests to advance to higher levels of magical training and teaching. Members of the Sapphire Circle are proud that theirs is one of the more structured groups.
Which is to say, witches have heaps of paperwork. There are newsletters to get out. Eight Sabbats to arrange -- Sabbats are the festivals of Wicca marking the year as it turns through its seasons. All are related to the harvest or fertility.
There are larger rules about admittance to the group. Nobody younger than 18 can join without the permission of a parent. The group, which has a dozen members ranging in age from 23 to 42, does not discriminate against any ethnicity or sexual orientation.
Unlike some religions with strictly ordered practices that are the same for all followers, Wiccans often personalize their religion. For example, Ember incorporates Native American shamanism -- a system for psychic, emotional, and spiritual healing and exploration -- into her practice with animal totems and meditation, and Rowan works in fairies and ancient Celtic lore.
Martha Rampton, a professor of medieval history at Pacific University in Forest Grove, says that's precisely what draws her to Wicca.
"I'm not a Wiccan myself, but I'm attracted to the accepting nature of it. It's so eclectic," Rampton said. "They take some traditional holidays and deities . . . and personalize them. They have a very personal and playful relationship with their deities."
Indeed, says Rowan, the proud owner of a Secret Spells Barbie. The Mattel doll, which comes complete with a colorful cauldron and mixing potions, was in fact a reward for passing her first test.
As Christmas nears, she's shopped for equally silly Christmas presents for her husband, friends, and family, and she's planning to make her grandmother's Christmas nut rolls.
Celebrating Santa Ember, who as a girl had the special job of draping icicle decorations on her family's Christmas tree, will ship presents to the East Coast and write cards that feature snow scenes and St. Nick. It all sounds pretty typical to Alana Graham, longtime witch and a secretary at a Hillsboro health clinic.
"Everyone I know celebrates the solstice with a ritual, and then they have Christmas with their family," she says. "It's like so many families who celebrate Hanukkah and Christmas."
Near the end of the Wise Moon ritual last week, Ember writes the name of Professor Dumbledore from "Harry Potter" on a piece of parchment and asks that Athena help transmit his wisdom and patience to her. She rolls the paper, holds it over the cauldron and sets it on fire.
After billows of smoke threaten to set off the fire alarm, the ceremony ends, and the women stand and turn their attention to Ember's personal altar, presided over by a pagan Earth goddess, Gaia. Tucked along the many icons and mementos on the shelf is a small picture of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Ember laughs when she looks at it, and agrees that with forces like this on her side, she may soon have the courage to step out of the closet.
"When I'm feeling really low, I look at this picture," she says. "I say to myself, 'If Buffy can do it, I can do it.' "