Allen, fyi fwiw by way of background...

Witchcraft is one of three sisters: feminism, lesbianism and witchcraft (á
la Prov 30:15). These three sisters are signs of (impending) Godly
judgement (Isaiah 3 and Romans 1:24, 26, 28 re homosexuality - "God gave
them over").

All three are about (seizing and maintaining) power and control - being
god(desses) (Gen 3:5) and the right to define/name oneself - and
overturning
the God-ordained pattern/order/hierarchy of design and function in
relationship and headship. As such they are of Satan (Gen 3:5 & John 8:44)
and are the doctrine(s) of demons (1 Tim 4:1).

Lindsay

PS Additional two following articles confirm the first.

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http://www.theage.com.au/news/20000704/A49211-2000Jul3.html

The Age (Melbourne)
Tuesday 4 July 2000

Back from a spell...
By Anita Chaudhuri

Something most irregular is occurring in the world of pentagrams and pointy

hats. After 2000 years of persecution and bad publicity, witches have
finally been rehabilitated as icons of female power.

Don't believe me? Switch on the television and there's Buffy the Vampire
Slayer and Sabrina the Teenage Witch and the sisters of Charmed acting as
unofficial pagan ambassadors. Visit the newage section of any bookstore and

behold how the shelves are crammed with dozens of glossy tomes devoted to
spells and magic.

On the Internet, ecovens and Wicca mailing lists are a growth area.

It is a curious phenomenon, this resurgence of interest in the dark arts,
particularly among otherwise rational, 21stcentury women. Is it a quest to
reconnect with an authentic, intuitive inner goddess or another
manifestation of an innate sense of powerlessness?

Certainly the idea of being able to wave a magic wand over a particularly
trying situation has great appeal; the thought that a spell might exist to
turn a frog, if not into a prince, then into Dr Kovak from television
series
E.R., is positively intoxicating.

"Women want more control over their lives, that's why they are turning to
magic," says Gillian Kemp, author of The Good Spell Book. "All women are
witches and everybody can do magic, simply by accessing their intuition,"
she insists. "What makes a spell work is the emotion you put into it. So if

someone wants to get their husband back, there isn't much point getting an
official witch to do a spell - it's far better to do it yourself."

This is where her book comes in handy, containing as it does spells to
cover
most of life's more pressing requirements, including To Get a Lover to
Call,
Eternal Triangle and To Communicate with an Absent Partner. There are also
spells for avoiding divorce, dieting, finding a job and winning the
lottery.

My favourite was To Deter Straying, until I discovered it was a spell for
pets and involved burying a lump of the animal's fur in a hole in the
garden. Would it work as effectively if you used a clump of an errant
spouse's hair? Kemp thinks not, but then the effectiveness of her
enchantments is dubious to begin with. After all, why has she not won the
lottery herself and retired by now?

"A spell is like a driving test," she says. "They don't always work first
time. You need perseverance."

With this in mind, I search for a suitable spell. The section on love looks

promising, but they all seem to demand ingredients more appropriate for a
forensics lab than a romantic encounter - lumps of hair, fingernails,
clothing samples. If we had access to such intimate parts of our chosen
love
god, would we really need spells to entrap him?

Some of the incantations are a bit worrying, too. "May the flame of passion

burn within your heart/From me you will not part" reads a spell To Attract
the One You Love. But what if I get sick of him? Even the author admits her

spell To Rid Yourself of a Persistent and Unwanted Lover is "more
complicated than most".

Kate West heads the Hearth of Hecate, a coven in Norfolk, in the UK, with
20
members. She believes women are embracing "the craft" in droves, not
because
they need miracle spells but because they want to form more profound links
with nature and their own unconscious. "Ultimately, it's about the belief
that you can change the world around you - that's a nurturing, female
concept. It is also liberating to accept that there is a goddess protecting

us and our Earth."

Every week, West is inundated with requests for spells, or "magical
assistance", and for advice, both from the local community and the
Internet.
"There isn't exactly a poster in the window saying Witch Lives Here, but
people do know. There's a lot of fear of us, particularly from men, but
that
has ever been the case. I get email from worried parents about daughters
who
have just got into magic."

Now she is writing a handbook for young witches for the post-Harry Potter
market, offering step-by-step guidance to becoming a witch. "There are a
lot of misconceptions. People think magic will solve all their problems and it
won't. Most of my work is used in healing. I do 10 to 12 spells per month
but I don't charge. Often I do them for people who have done my
babysitting.

"Money spells are the hardest because you have to be really specific -
there's no point in just asking for cash or you'll wake up to find a 5p
piece on your doorstep. Love can be tricky, too, because I think it's
immoral to tamper with the emotions of a third party."

West is adamant that the vast majority of witches use their power to good
ends. Even her own principles have their limits, however. "I'm not ashamed
to say I often cast spells to find a parking space in a hurry."

West claims not to have read Harry Potter, probably the real source of the
current boom in bewitchment. "I'm not sure if Harry Potter is a good
thing,"
says Sally Taylor, a thirdgeneration witch who has read the books. "It
makes
magic seem too simplistic."

Taylor should know; she previously ran a school for witches, the Kent
College of Magic and Metaphysics, which sounds suspiciously like the
Hogwarts School of J.K. Rowling's fiction. "There are fake covens around,
people with plastic bats nailed to their doors - we've got a real bat cave
here. There's a lot of hypocrisy, too, particularly when dealing with kids.

Most children are taught their first spell at the age of three - blow out
the candles and make a wish. Then it's all stamped out of them."

Taylor, now 60, is pragmatic about the use of magic in women's lives. "Most

witches I know have to combine their day jobs with the craft, which can be
very stressful. They're not all going around with pointy hats, you know ...

I even go to church, which freaks people out. I think they're scared of
what
a witch represents."

It is interesting to examine why witches have historically been outcasts,
while male practitioners of pagan rituals have by and large been allowed to

conduct their business without fear of the ducking stool. Some of the
unease
clearly stems from a universal fear of female power. Wiccan lore celebrates

the triple goddess of maiden, mother and crone, three archetypes of
womanhood.

"The crone is the most feared because she is postmenstrual; the mother is
feared because she has the secret of reproduction, a form of immortality
she
is withholding from men; the maiden is feared because of her suppressed
power," says Shahrukh Husain, a folklorist and editor of the Virago Book of

Witches. Her own research among teenage witches explores links between
witchcraft and adolescent sexuality.

"Being a witch is about embracing your dark side, which women are not
supposed to accept. It lets you celebrate the part that's a slut or that
has
a foul mouth. Ultimately witchery is all about accessing one's own power,
dressing up outrageously and showing off." With a manifesto like that, what

woman could resist?

- GUARDIAN
 

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http://www.theage.com.au/news/20000704/A49484-2000Jul3.html

The Age
Tuesday 4 July 2000

Enough about you, let's talk about me
By Shane* Watson

An epidemic of self-importance is sweeping the Western world. Rather than
worrying about females worrying about their weight, our governments should
cut to the chase and address the question of why we are all so
self-obsessed.

This goes way beyond navel gazing - it's what happens when navel gazing
becomes the mark of the thoughtful person and then, eventually, of the more

mature "complete" human being.

What was once self-centred behavior is now seen as evidence of healthy
self-esteem. People who are obviously terrific bores have been given
licence
to bore on the most boring of subjects - themselves.

"Because I'm worth it", my needs, my life, my issues - we're surrounded by
it.

There are some positive effects (you spend less time saying, "Is it me,
what
am I doing wrong?" to men who can barely remember your name). On the other
hand, you owe so much to yourself that you can't always be expected to
consider other people. The me-me generation is a liability to have to
dinner
("I can't eat anything white/breathe smoke/be in a room with dogs") and
worse still for longer periods ("We'll bring our own sheets, Johnnie is
allergic to biological powder").

Soon the modern dinner invitation will read: "Please tick if you would
rather spicy or plain food, Chet Baker or the Chemical Brothers, smokers
and
boozers, or Americans and specify any food allergies or conversational
problem areas. Looking forward to seeing you - at whatever time is best for

you and the au pair."

The greatest damage inflicted thus far by the me-me's is on conversation.
Last week, we learnt from a Nice Day at Work Dear? Survey that more than
half of us feel that families and friends aren't talking enough about their

work. Wakey, wakey! The truth is that a frightening number of people have
forgotten that in the event of someone asking about your work, courtesy
dictates you give them a short, swift summary. The only reason people are
asking less is that, since everyone decided their lives were so roaringly
important, it's just become too risky. Next thing you know it's closing
time
and they're still boring on about their chances of being made a partner.

Likewise, the traditional "How are you?" these days might easily elicit a
rundown of gynaecological complaints, diary of a pregnancy etc. Women in
particular, I am sorry to say, excel in this area and those subjects that
would previously have been considered no-go areas in mixed company
(episiotomies, water retention, pelvic floor problems, diets) are now
flaunted stridently as if there were some fixed quota of tedious fem
subjects.

And to think that not so long ago we tended to applaud the art of modesty,
shifting the spotlight off ourselves and on to our neighbors. Everyone
started from the basic assumption that we couldn't matter less. The whole
reason Kenneth Branagh has had it so rough is that we, as a community,
decided he was just a little bit too interested in himself. Well we've got
news for you, Ken. This is your perfect moment.

GUARDIAN

[* In this case the "Shane" is female.]
 

-----------------------------------------------

http://www.theage.com.au/news/20000704/A49210-2000Jul3.html

The Age
Tuesday 4 July 2000

Society Mrs the point
By Pamela Bone

"Mrs Bone, are you awake? Mrs Bone!" the nurse repeated insistently,
slapping my hand as I emerged from the nothingness of a general
anaesthetic.
"It's not Mrs," I said weakly.

Dressed, and wobbling out to the waiting room where my husband was to pick
me up (they don't allow you much time for recovery these days), the
receptionist handed me an envelope. "Here's your account, Mrs Bone," she
said. "It's not Mrs," I said.

It's not Mrs, I say to various fillersin of forms, whenever I can be
bothered making the point. Would you take out the `r'? I ask politely. It's

Ms, not Mrs. If I must have a title, if it is absolutely essential that you

fill in that little box, it's Ms.

And why, I could add, do you assume that it is Mrs, since I don't wear a
ring on the third or any other finger of my left hand, or my right hand
either? Is it because at my age if I'm not married I damned well should be?

My husband - whom I call my husband rather than my partner because I don't
see anything sexist about the words "husband" or "wife" - objects when he
is
occasionally addressed as Mr Bone, and I don't blame him. Not only is it
not
his name, but it's a blunt, undignified sort of name that lends itself
easily to puns. Bone of contention, picking a bone with, close to the bone,

bonehead - there isn't an insult to do with my name I haven't already
heard.
(A boy I was in love with once broke my heart by calling me blood 'n'
bone.)

Nevertheless, it's the name I was born with and I've chosen to keep it
rather than hide behind my husband's much nicer one. To be sure, I got it
through the patriarchy. But if I used my mother's - no, can't say maiden
name these days, that has all sorts of connotations; birth? - name that
would have been her father's name, and if I used my grandmother's that
would
have been her father's, and so on. I don't know, unless we just make new
ones up for ourselves, how women escape ending up with some man's name.

But should we still have to declare our marital status every time we give
our names? In 1972, in the first issue of Ms magazine, the editor Gloria
Steinem asked the question "What's a Ms?" and answered it: "For more than
20
years, `Ms' has appeared in secretarial handbooks as the suggested form of
address when a woman's marital status is unknown, a sort of neutral
combination of `Miss' and `Mrs'. Now `Ms' is being adopted as a standard
form of address by women who want to be recognised as individuals rather
than being identified by their relationship with a man. After all, if `Mr'
is enough to identify `male', then `Ms' should be enough to identify
`female'! ... It's symbolic and important. There's a lot in a name."

So there still is. But three decades later a lot of people still seem to
have trouble with "Ms." A German cousin tells me that in Germany the title
"Fraulein" - the equivalent of "Miss" - is very rarely used any more, and
every adult female is "Frau", whether she's married or not. Perhaps, in
retrospect, we should have just dropped "Miss" and called every woman
"Mrs",
as it seems so much easier for some people to say. But isn't "Mrs" a
contraction of "mistress of"? And then, some women still want to be Miss. A

feminist, unmarried friend insists on being Miss because she says Ms is for

feminists who want to pretend they never got married.

Some men - though mainly only the dwindling members of the resentful men's
brigade - can make "Ms" sound like an insult. "Mzzz," they say sneeringly.
Nevertheless, short of every woman becoming a professor or a doctor, I
think
we'll just have to persevere with it. (Even getting a doctorate won't stop
sexist assumptions being made. Professor Marilyn Lake tells me of how, on a

recent flight, the steward came up to her, frowning at a piece of paper he
was holding, and asked her if she knew where Professor Lake was sitting as
this was supposed to be his place.)

Mrs Bone was my mother. I answer, depending on who is talking to me, to Ms
Bone, Pamela, Pam or Pammy. I am not Mrs. Would you please just take that
"r" out?