At Witch School,
spelling has new meaning
By Judy Keen,
usatoday.com from the Web, November 12, 2007
ROSSVILLE, Ill. — When Witch
School came to town, Mayor Terry Prillaman stopped in to welcome the owners, as
he does whenever a new business opens. "If you don't like them, don't
patronize them," he says. "It's like a tattoo parlor: You don't have
to go in."
Youth pastor Andy Thomas, though, believes the arrival of witches in this town
of 1,200 created a "spiritual battle" pitting "the forces of darkness against
the forces of light."
Rosella Ray, who runs the Village Art & Culture Center, a shop near the school,
keeps her distance from the witches. "They just do their thing, whatever
their thing is," she says.
Witch School opened in July on Chicago Street, the main drag here, between the
Harris Insurance Agency and Wally's Pub & Eatery. Since then, it has been
the chief topic of conversation, rumors and speculation around town. The
witches couldn't be happier.
"It's been great for business," CEO Donald Lewis says. "I do understand
that some people, not understanding what we are, might be afraid, but they
shouldn't be. … There are no headless cats, there are no missing
children."
The witches bought a building that had housed a gift-basket shop and moved here
from their former headquarters in Hoopeston, 7 miles north. There are no
classrooms; the school operates mostly online.
Lewis says it has more than 190,000 registered members. Five people run
online classes, ship books and merchandise and sell wands, incense, candles and
other items.
On Halloween, two workers wore long black robes and pointy witches' hats.
The school's website refers to Rossville as a "pagan colony." The school
offers séances, initiations and rituals six days a week.
Prillaman says two people showed up at a City Council meeting to object to the
school. He has had maybe four phone calls from people who said the witches
shouldn't have been allowed to move here.
"I told them, 'I don't remember voting on you coming into town,' " he says.
"Back in the 1920s, there was quite a presence here" of the Ku Klux Klan,
Prillaman says. "What do you suppose people were saying back then?"
Witch School pays property taxes, collects sales taxes and uses city-owned water
and gas systems, the mayor says. And it occupies a building that otherwise
probably would be empty in a town that already has plenty of vacant storefronts.
In the 1960s and 1970s, Rossville's streets were lined with antique shops that
made it a popular tourist destination. Many have closed, and a block of
them burned down in 2004. A ConAgra plant that makes aerosol products is
the town's biggest employer.
Two of the four churches here have led the opposition to the witches.
Thomas, who works at Rossville Church of Christ, and other residents organized
weekly prayer meetings focused on the school.
Church members put up a billboard that reads: "Worship the Creator, not
creation." Some witches, whose religion is called Wicca, believe that
elements of nature, symbolized by the earth, sun and moon, are deities.
Thomas worries that young people will be attracted by the witches' spells,
potions and aura of mystery. "We're concerned and uncomfortable," he says.
"I think people would be happier if they weren't here, but it's not our goal to
run them out of town."
Debbe Tompkins, president of Witch School, says she doesn't resent people who
fear her and her colleagues. "I was raised fundamentalist Baptist, and I
understand exactly where they're coming from," she says. "I can't fault
them."
Last month, church leaders invited Robert Kurka, a theology professor at Lincoln
Christian College, to talk about Wiccans. About 150 people showed up.
He urged them to study the Bible and be prepared to talk to the newcomers about
their own Christian beliefs. (End of thnt.com article.)
Before that meeting, Ray says, she thought getting rid of the witches would be
best. Afterward, she says, Kurka's advice "made most of us feel like maybe
we should just be even stronger in our own faith. … We decided as a
community to live and let live."
Judy Rayfield, who cuts hair at the Chicago Street Hair Co., isn't so sure.
"Some people say 'live and let live,' but the main thought of the Christians is
we would like to see them close," she says. "They're in darkness.
They're deceived."
Lewis, who like Tompkins bought a house here, says Christians have nothing to
fear. "We want to challenge the community to be more open-minded," he
says.
Even opponents, he says, "know that we are not Satanists, that we are not
sacrificing cats in the back room. … We have always hoped to attract other
pagans to the area, but our religion doesn't normally recruit in the way
Christians do and in the way they're afraid we will."
Thomas worries that some people here think the witches are harmless or humorous
and that the Witch School could deter people from buying homes or opening
businesses.
"Our ultimate goal would be to convert them to Christianity," he says. "If
that doesn't happen, I don't know what will be next."
GayPASG Note: This article was published in the NJ
thnt.com under “Wictch school getting mixed reviews in an Illinois town.”
The end of that article indicated above and it was not on line in NJ.
|
