Polytheism, In the Desert of Set, Page 3

Paganism Setianism

Set and the Greek Typhon—Are They the Same?

June 16, 2020December 22, 202411 min read

Comparing the Egyptian God Set with the Greek Titan Typhon, and explaining how the word “Typhonian” became a synonym for “Setian.”

The name Typhon originally belonged to a Titan in Greek mythology who appears as a giant with a hundred serpents for his heads and legs. The Titans were primordial beings who existed before the Olympians (Zeus, Hera, Aphrodite, etc.) and who were ruled by a God named Kronos. After Zeus dethroned Kronos and took control over the universe, Typhon led the Titans to war against the Olympians. But Zeus overpowered him in battle and buried him alive beneath the Earth, from whence he now sends lava and volcanic eruptions. Typhon’s mate is the gruesome snake-woman Ekhidna, with whom he sired such terrible chaos monsters as Cerberus and the Chimaera. So far, I haven’t seen any evidence that the Greeks ever worshiped Typhon (though if anyone out there is aware of such evidence, please let me know). It would seem that he was only ever worshiped against, much like ~~Apep~~ in Egyptian religion.

Yet the name Typhon also became strongly associated the Egyptian Set after the New Kingdom fell to foreign invaders during the 8th century BCE. Since Set is the God of all things foreign to Egypt, He was blamed for these invasions as well as for the final dissolution of Pharaonic power. So the Egyptians went apeshit and smashed all His statues, scratched His name off every monument, and killed His sacred animals in excessively cruel ways (such as pushing scared and defenseless donkeys over cliffs). They ceased to believe in Him as the Savior of Ra and equated Him with ~~Apep~~ instead. They also persecuted and sometimes killed anyone who either continued to follow Set or was thought to resemble Him too much (such as redheads). This eventually led to one of the earliest recorded cases of blood libel, in which Alexandrian Jews were accused of practicing “onolatry” (donkey worship), poisoning wells, and murdering people in their religious rituals. Even Yahweh Himself was equated with Set during this period, which meant that Jews and Setians were both being portrayed as something like a pre-Christian “satanic cult.”

By the time guys like Herodotus started writing about the Egyptians in the 5th century BCE, there was far more of ~~Apep~~ to be found in the popular understanding of Set than there was of Set Himself. So when Herodotus applied the concept of interpretatio graecia to the Egyptian pantheon (identifying foreign people’s Gods as Greek Gods under different names), he identified this fallacious Set/~~Apep~~ hybrid with the Typhon of his own culture. Once he made that link, Greco-Egyptian syncretists started calling Big Red Seth-Typhon, and people who continued to worship or “resemble” Him became known as Typhonians. This was a term of hostile derision, and classical Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans used it in much the same way that Christians continue to use the terms “Satanist” or “devil worshiper” today.

I’m not a big fan of interpretatio graecia; I understand why it made sense to the Greeks, but I’m skeptical of it myself (especially in this case). It doesn’t take an archaeologist to know the Egyptian Set and the Greek Typhon are almost nothing alike. Sure, there are certain superficial similarities; both became scary “bad guys” for a while. But until the 400s BCE at least, it had always been an accepted part of Set’s arc that He is a villain-turned-hero. He also had a proper priesthood of His own and was honored by the Pharaohs; this clearly wasn’t the case for Typhon, who never enjoyed any kind of state-endorsed following.

If Set and Typhon truly are identical, then Typhon’s family in Greek mythology should be like a “second family” that Set has apart from His Egyptian and Canaanite relatives. Theoretically at least, this would mean creatures like the Chimaera and Cerberus are fellow Children of Set, and I should feel some kind of spiritual resonance with them. Theology is not a science, of course, so there’s really no way for anyone to be 100% certain of such things; but aside from the complete absence of any lore to this effect, I’ve never acquired any gnosis that would support this idea. Ekhidna and Her frightening brood just don’t feel like they’re related to Set at all; and if Set is indeed sterile and incapable of siring any children (as He is described in Egyptian mythology), how the hell could He procreate with Ekhidna anyway? While mythology should never be taken literally, there does need to be some internal consistency at the very least. If Herodotus is correct and Set and Typhon are really the same guy, I would expect there to be stories of Typhon being childless, of Set fathering gigantic monster children, or perhaps even both.

However, I must admit I am guilty of using the name Typhon in reference to Set all the time. Isn’t this hypocritical? Aren’t I blaspheming Big Red by using a name that was given to Him out of hatred and fear? Shouldn’t I just stick to His Egyptian names and tell Herodotus to get the hell out of Dodge? And shouldn’t I have more respect for myself than to accept being called a Typhonian?

It has occurred to me that there might be other Companions of Set out there who strongly dislike my use of the Typhon moniker. (And if that’s true, I thank you all for being extremely polite to me, as no one has written me any angry emails about it yet.) But I actually have several very good reasons for sometimes referring to Set as Typhon, despite everything I’ve explained above.

1. It has historical precedent.

There are numerous spells in the Greco-Egyptian magical papyri that invoke a “Typhon” who is not in keeping with the Greek Titan’s character at all. The “Typhon” of the paypri is strongly associated with iron, donkeys, the color red, the Great Bear, and Hellenized corruptions of Hebrew God names. He’s even called “hater of the wicked” in one particular spell, which isn’t like the Greek Typhon at all. Furthermore, many of the spells involving “Typhon” are not malefical (death curses) but are incantations for love, protection, and other varieties of good fortune. Absolutely none of these things are consistent with the Greek Typhon at all—but they are consistent with Set as He was worshiped prior to the Late Period.

Also, I can personally attest that these spells carry quite a lot of firepower and that Big Red responds favorably to them. If He didn’t like being called Typhon, one would think the spells would fail utterly (or have deadly results). There are many different theories as to why magic works, of course, and not all of them are predicated on the assumption that anything “supernatural” is truly happening. But even if the Greco-Egyptian spells are just exercises in self-hypnotism, their Typhonian procedures are clearly modeled on the Egyptian God Set (and not the Greek monster Typhon).

2. The word Typhonian pretty much belongs to Set anyway.

This term simply didn’t exist prior to the emergence of Greco-Egyptian syncretism. When it was first coined, it was used to describe animals that are sacred to Set (including donkeys, fish, hippopotamuses, etc.) and people who resonate with Him. So while it might be taken from the name of a completely different entity, Typhonian has always been used specifically for things that pertain to Set. (This is probably due to the original Typhon never having a cultus of his own.) In fact, we can really just go right ahead and say that Typhonian is really just a synonym for Setian.

3. Typhon is very useful when interacting with academic hair-splitters.

In academia, the Egyptian Set is often called Seth-Typhon to distinguish Him from the biblical Seth (the third son of Adam and Eve). The latter plays an important role in certain heretical forms of Judaism and Christianity that developed during the latest years BCE and the earliest years CE. These belief systems are often called “Sethianism” or “Sethian Gnosticism,” and some scholars will refer to Set as Seth-Typhon to distinguish Him from this other religion. They also tend to use the word Typhonian for things that pertain to Set, while I more often see Sethian used in discussions of Gnosticism.

In a way, this actually kind of stinks; Big Red gets the short end of the stick while an obscure Bible character (who’s barely even mentioned in the book of Genesis at all) gets preferential treatment. But be that as it may, using the name Typhon in conjunction with Set’s is certain to dispel any potential confusion with Sethian Gnosticism (or at least among academics).

(I should note that some of Big Red’s followers think He and the Gnostic Seth really are the same entity. I respectfully disagree with this idea myself, but that’s a discussion for another day.)

4. The meaning of the name makes perfect sense.

Typhon literally means “whirlwind” in Greek, which ties in with Set’s role as a God of wind and storms. The name is also linked to our modern word typhoon, which is the Pacific Ocean’s equivalent to a hurricane. Therefore, the name doesn’t actually mean anything insulting in and of itself; if anything, it’s a totally valid description of Set’s jurisdiction in nature.

5. It describes one of Big Red’s much-forgotten aspects.

Remember how Set chopped Osiris to pieces and fed His penis to a fish? It may seem ironic that a desert God would be associated with an aquatic animal, but it happens to be the case. Fish—especially those of the Mormyridae or elephantfish family—were held sacred to Set in areas like the town of Oxyrhynchus. Hippopotamuses are also sacred to Him, and they are aquatic animals as well, as they spend most of their time in water. So based on Egyptian religion alone, Set most definitely has an aquatic aspect, and Typhon is the perfect name to describe Him in this context.

6. It is a reminder of the evils of blood libel.

The name Typhon was given to Set by people who feared Him so much that they were willing to harm innocent animals and people to drive Him away. It may seem blasphemous to call Him by this name for that very reason, but I find that it’s a good way of reminding myself about the evils of blood libel. The Burning Times, the Salem Witch Trials, the Holocaust, the “Satanic Panic” of the 1980s; these were all just different versions of the same thing that was done to Setian and Jewish people in Alexandrian Egypt. Remembering these horrific events is a huge part of my spirituality (especially the Satanic Panic, since I was actually alive while it was still happening). So reclaiming the name Typhon as a positive term for Set and myself is much the same for me as reclaiming a word like witch is for Wiccans.

7. Set has never killed me for using it.

I’ve been referring to Set as Typhon for a very long time now, and He’s never given me any grief about it. I’m pretty confident that if He didn’t like me using this name for Him, I would already be dead by now.

8. Who cares about the Greek Typhon’s feelings, anyway?

I’ve never met a single person who’s ever claimed to worship or even care about the Greek Typhon in and of himself (and trust me, I’ve searched for such a person far and wide; if there are any Hellenic reconstructionists out there who worship Typhon and who happen to stumble upon this sermon, I do hope they will share their thoughts on this with me). Whenever I meet anyone who works with something they call “Typhon,” the entity they’re experiencing always turns out to be Set upon closer inspection (except in the case of Kenneth Grant, whose “Draconian female” Typhon strikes me as being a misidentified version of the hippo Goddess, Taweret.) If the original Typhon has no cult to speak of, and if the Greeks themselves gave his name to Set, then why should I care? Does anyone even care that I’m talking about this?

So are Set and Typhon one and the same entity? Pan-culturalists might say “Yes,” and hard polytheists might say “No”—but who can ever know for sure? All I know is, Set and Typhon don’t seem the same to me, but this doesn’t mean the two figures can’t share the same name. If there can be more than one “Seth,” why on earth can’t there be more than one “Typhon?”

Paganism Setianism

Khepesh: The Iron of Set

June 16, 2020December 22, 20249 min read

Explaining Set’s connections to the Big Dipper, and why they are important.

In Egyptian mythology, Khepesh (“The Thigh”) is the Iron of Set. This powerful force was once a part of Set Himself, but it was removed from Him by Horus during Their war for the throne of civilization. It is sometimes described as being Set’s “bone,” “foreleg,” “semen,” or even His “testicles” (which means its removal is sometimes described as a “castration”). This Iron is what enabled Set to kill Osiris, and it was returned to Him once He was “tamed” enough to be reconciled with the rest of the Gods. Set now uses Khepesh to defend Ra from the Chaos Serpent, and its physical counterparts in nature include the asterism we know today as the Big Dipper, as well as the chemical element Fe (iron).

Khepesh is often contrasted with Wedjat, the Eye of Horus (or “All-Seeing Eye”), which Set removed from Horus during Their fight. We use our eyes to see things, which is why Wedjat is associated with light, knowledge, and order; it represents “shedding light” on the unknown and making it known. Khepesh, on the other hand, is linked to Set’s libido; it represents the unknown’s ability to intrude upon the known and force it to adapt. Despite this disruption, Khepesh is an altogether different kind of “chaos” from that of the Chaos Serpent, for it doesn’t threaten to destroy everything in Creation; it simply destroys certain things to make room for others. Hence why it is the perfect weapon against the Serpent, and in this respect it is often portrayed in Egyptian art as a lance or spear that Set carries into battle.

The Iron of Set is comparable to other monster-slaying weapons in mythology, such as Mjollnir (Thor’s hammer). Both are associated with red-haired storm deities; both must remain externalized from their users (for even Thor must wear gloves while handling Mjollnir); and both have strong phallic connotations (as when Mjollnir is placed on the bride’s lap during Nordic wedding ceremonies). We may further compare Khepesh to Thurisaz, the third rune in the Elder Futhark, which represents how the destructive powers of nature can be used for protective purposes. The word Khepesh was additionally used for a sword the ancient Egyptians carried in battle, and which is shaped like the Big Dipper.

An Egyptian khepesh sickle-sword.

Khepesh was “tethered” to the star Polaris (our planet’s current north pole star) by the Goddess Taweret to keep it as far away from Osiris as possible. It’s also kept there as a kind of “cosmic scarecrow” to prevent the Chaos Serpent from attacking our world through the northern sky. In the Greek magical papyri, Set is said to live somewhere “behind” the Big Dipper, in a “Secret Place” that none of the other Gods can reach. This realm has been linked with the Hermetic concept of Daath on the Tree of Life, and it is sometimes called “the Mauve Zone” or “the Desert of Set.” That last term is taken from how the Egyptians considered their country to be the very pinnacle of human civilization. The deserts surrounding Egypt (called Deshret or “the Red Lands”) were viewed as protecting it from “the world outside”; hence this notion that Set roams the chaotic maelstrom “out there” to keep the created world safe “in here.”

From an animist perspective, everything about the Big Dipper may be seen as an astral reflection of Khepesh. Bearing this principle in mind, we can make the following observations about Set’s Iron:

Most of the Egyptian Gods are linked to stellar objects that “fall beneath” and “rise above” the horizon, including the Sun, the Moon, Sirius, and constellations like Orion. These deities are reported to “die” and “rise again” (or to accompany other dying-and-rising Gods through their transitions). But the Big Dipper is circumpolar and never sets, representing Set’s inability to ever die. While the other Gods experience a cyclical kind of immortality, Set’s is continuous and linear. Khepesh is what gives Him the immense strength He needs to be truly deathless.

Since the Dipper points north, it makes a perfect “cosmic compass” and has been used as such for centuries. For the ancient desert peoples who worshiped Him, it must have seemed like Set was faithfully guiding them through the night whenever they were lost. This indicates that Khepesh, no matter how destructive or frightening it might be, is actually a force for good in this world, as well as its last line of defense from the Serpent and its qliphoth.

The Dipper rotates counterclockwise (to the left), and leftness has always been linked with asymmetry, inversion, and reversal (whether social, political, or spiritual). So Khepesh is tied to Set’s anti-establishment sensibilities, which explains His popularity among left-hand path occultists.

The Dipper forms a giant swastika in the northern sky. This is actually a symbol for prosperity and good luck in many cultures; it doesn’t “belong” to National Socialists anymore than crosses “belong” to the Ku Klux Klan. But that doesn’t change the fact that most Westerners react badly to the swastika for reasons that are completely understandable. This relates to Set’s reputation as a so-called “evil” God. Just as He really represents something good but is mistaken for being “evil” by outsiders, so too does the swastika represent something good in religions like Hinduism and Buddhism, despite being tied to Nazism in the West. Part of being Setian, in my opinion, involves being able to understand this kind of nuance, which is not easy for most people to do.

That Khepesh is linked to iron (Fe) is also interesting, given that this chemical element has traditionally been used to ward off malevolent daemons, faeries, witches, and the Evil Eye. Prison bars were once made from iron to restrict any negative energy that might be emanating from the most dangerous prisoners. Even today, Bedouins still believe that a person who fights with a sword forged from meteoric iron will win any battle. It’s a little spooky that the Greek philosopher Pythagoras claimed that Typhon’s number is 56, considering that the atomic weight of iron is 55.845 (which rounds up to 56). Nor is it a coincidence that iron should be linked to the color red, the planet Mars, or the Qabalic sphere of Geburah.

In the Ceremony of the Opening of the Mouth, Khepesh was invoked into an adze or chisel that had been forged from meteoric iron, and which was shaped to resemble the Big Dipper. This adze was then pressed against the mouth of a mummy or statue while the priests recited spells invoking “the iron that comes forth from Set.” Doing this effectively transformed the inanimate object into a living conduit for a deity or the ghost of a deceased loved one. The principle behind such ritual magic is more or less identical to that of Catholic transubstantiation. Prior to Mass, the communal bread and wine are merely foodstuffs; they don’t become the mystical body and blood of Christ until all the magic words have been properly recited. In the same way, an Egyptian cult image started its existence as merely an image; it would not “come alive” with the spirit of the God or ghost it was meant to represent until after its mouth had been symbolically “opened.” Interesting that Khepesh, the same power Set uses to stomp Osiris and smite the Serpent, can also be used to create magical interfaces between this world and the next.

Horus “opening the mouth” of a mummy.

Khepesh is additionally connected to the was scepter, which bears the head and forked tail of the Sha animal. The name was (which rhymes with “Oz”) means “power” or “dominion,” and the scepter represents the royal power to sublimate chaos. Using the Sha in this symbolism is similar to the use of stone gargoyles in Christian churches. The gargoyles represent dark, chaotic forces that have been “domesticated” and which now protect us from other forces that are even worse. This reminds me of the parallels between Set and Tokyo’s favorite giant monster, Godzilla. Both begin innocently enough, but later become extremely dangerous beings that threaten to destroy the whole world. Then both are eventually “reigned in” to defend the Earth from evil hell monsters like ~~Apep~~ and King Ghidorah.

As a final thought, Khepesh is similar in concept to what Christians call “the Blood of Christ.” The latter is supposedly a real mystical substance that washes away all sin from a person’s heart. Likewise, Set’s Iron “straightens the spines” and “opens the mouths” of both the Gods and the dead. Both objects are formerly part of a deity’s body, and both can be magically “drawn down” by worshipers into physical devices. Just as the sacramental bread and wine at a Catholic mass can become the actual body and blood of Christ, so too can people and objects with Typhonian properties be “filled” with the force of Khepesh.

References

Alford, A. F. (2003). Pyramid of secrets: The architecture of the Great Pyramid reconsidered in the light of creational mythology. Walsall, England: Eridu Books.

Almond, J., & Seddon, K. (2004). Egyptian Paganism for beginners. St. Paul, MN: Llewellyn.

Assante, M. K., & Mazama, A. (Eds.) (2009). Encyclopedia of African religion, volume 1. Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications, Inc.

Assman, J. (2002). The mind of Egypt: History and meaning in the time of the Pharaohs. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Budge, E. A. W. (1934). From fetish to God in ancient Egypt. New York, NY: Dover.

Budge, E. A. W. (1904). The Gods of the Egyptians: Or, studies in Egyptian mythology (volume 2). London, UK: Methuen & Co.

Eliade, M. (1978). The forge and the crucible: The origins and structure of alchemy. Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press.

Friedman, D. M. (2001). Mind of its own: A cultural history of the penis. New York, NY: The Free Press.

Guiley, R. (2006). The encyclopedia of magic and alchemy. New York, NY: Facts on File, Inc.

Isler, M. (2001). Sticks, stones and shadows: Building the Egyptian pyramids. Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma Press.

Penprase, B. E. (2011). The power of stars: How celestial observations have shaped civilization. New York, NY: Springer.

Pinch, G. (2002). Egyptian mythology: A guide to the Gods, Goddesses, and traditions of ancient Egypt. New York, NY: Oxford University Press.

Roberts, M. J. (1994). Norse Gods and heroes. New York, NY: Friedman Group.

Seeds, M. A., & Backman, D. E. (2011). The solar system. Boston, MA: Brooks/Cole.

Simon. (2006). The gates of the Necronomicon. New York, NY: Avon.

Teeter, E. (2011). Religion and ritual in ancient Egypt. New York, NY: Cambridge University Press.

Te Velde, H. (1977). Seth, God of confusion: A study of His role in Egyptian mythology and religion. Leiden: E. J. Brill.

Paganism Setianism

My Understanding of Magic

June 16, 2020December 27, 20249 min read

A brief explanation of my perspective on magic, what it is, how it works, and how it dovetails into my theological views.

My understanding of actual magic—not to be confused with mere illusionism or stage magic—hinges on the Egyptian concept of heka, which more accurately translates to mean “divine speech.” This refers not only to literal verbal communication, but also to the use of visual arts and ritualized performances to “activate the ka,” which might be compared to our Western construct of the “astral body.” Virtually any form of dramatic self-expression can be a work of magic within this context, provided that it arouses your spirit and directs it toward some kind of goal. This goal can be operative (to heal the sick, ward off negative energy, divine omens), initiatory (to reach a higher state of consciousness), or even devotional (to honor a deity or ancestor). For the ancient Egyptians, everything from casting love spells to invoking the Creator themself was a magical working that bridged the gap between this world and Duat, its spiritual counterpart. Indeed, magic is fundamental to all spirituality and religion, for even Christian worship services involve “activating the ka” (feeling “the Holy Spirit”), implementing “divine speech” (using key language from the Bible), and accomplishing some kind of goal (feeling close to Jesus).

Naturally, most people scoff at the idea of anyone believing in magic here in our contemporary times. But there is a difference between thinking magic is effective and thinking it is necessarily “supernatural.” I wholeheartedly believe in Gods, ghosts, and other worlds, and many of the rites I’ve worked have wielded some truly eerie results. But I also accept that there are completely rational explanations for the things I’ve experienced, and I neither ask nor expect anyone else to forgo such conclusions. This is because I know magic can work regardless of whether the supernatural actually exists apart from the human imagination or not. If you invoke a blessing for someone, it might or might not have any effect on that person in the real world; but it will at least vent your desire for that person to be OK somehow, fulfilling a profound emotional need that all the logic in the world can never appease. So even if it’s all just a bunch of autohypnosis (which isn’t necessarily true, either), magic can still have efficacy and practical value today. Whether it works on objective reality or even on the subjective realities of others is completely secondary to whether it works on your own psyche and spirit. Its true purpose is to change and empower the user, not to directly affect literal changes on the physical world like in some epic fantasy movie.

These principles apply to my theology as well. I can’t claim to be absolutely 100% certain that Set (or any other deity) is really a sentient entity that actually hears my prayers, or that has ever directly intervened in my life to change it for the better. But apart from my personal belief that these things are true, I can at least be certain that if I had never uttered a single prayer to Set, I would never have met some of my closest loved ones; I would not have the family I now cherish; I would not have developed my current career; and I would never have hoisted myself from the cesspool of domestic abuse in which I was raised. None of this proves that Set is objectively real by any means, but it does prove that His influence in my life is strong enough for it not to matter whether He is or isn’t. And to this extent at least, He and the other divinities I’ve encountered are all quite real enough for my purposes. Whatever the Gods actually are or however they are to be explained, they are certainly effective, just as magic can be effective whether it is truly “paranormal” or not. So I will just go right ahead and keep praising Big Red until the cows come home!

Inevitably, we must address the issue of magical ethics. The same principle behind the blessing spell I described above will also empower a hex or a death curse to work in much the same way (i.e., on the “sender,” not necessarily the “recipient”). Many Pagans warn that doing this is “unethical” and will unleash terrible consequences upon the user(s), no matter how much the intended victim(s) might deserve whatever is wished upon them. I have even heard someone tell rape survivors they have no business casting hexes on the men who assaulted them, for fear of violating some lofty cosmic law.

This is all bullshit.

Burning effigies and sticking pins into dolls are perfectly healthy ways of vindicating yourself emotionally without actually harming anyone—especially if we’re talking about an injustice as heinous as rape. If the helpless can’t use magic to win some kind of control back over their lives, then what fucking good is it? The true concern here is not whether hexing or cursing violates any external standard, but whether it violates your own conscience. Let’s say you do cast that death curse on your tormentor, and he actually dies that painful, humiliating death you wished upon him. Would this “coincidence” spook you and make you feel guilty? If so, that guilt might eat you up inside, causing your curse to backfire. But if you are certain your enemy’s synchronous destruction in reality would only enhance your well-being, I see no reason you should not enjoy yourself by destroying them symbolically and nonviolently in a spell. Doing so is always preferable to actually harming that person in real life, and you may even find that it alleviates your desire to harm them, helping you re-focus your energy on more productive goals.

Some people describe such procedures as “black,” “dark,” or “left-handed” magic, but this too is bullshit. You don’t have to devote yourself to a dark God to cast a hex whenever you might need to, and you also don’t have to curse people all the time to worship a dark God. Setians enjoy the additional benefit of execration rituals, which work in much the same way, but which target non-human advarsaries like the qliphoth or even the Chaos Serpent instead. Nine times out of ten, a good execration will help you cast out that negative energy better than any death curse would. Nevertheless, there are situations in which a curse might be exactly what you need; so while the option of magically destroying your enemies should never be taken lightly, there is no sense in completely ruling it out either. Furthermore, the term “black magic” is a colonial racist inference to African magical traditions, and “dark magic” lacks any room for nuance. (Is it “dark” to invoke Set the nocturnal storm God in a blessing, or to invoke Sekhmet the fiery solar Goddess in a curse?) As for the “left-hand path,” this is a Tantric term for heterodox ritual practices, and it is rendered somewhat meaningless when removed from its original context. (Is it “left-handed” to praise Lucifer in a room full of Satanists?) I prefer to describe hexes, curses, and other such procedures as destructive magic and leave it at that, without assigning any color- or usability-coded value judgments to the matter.

Mind you, there are many “LHPers” (for lack of a better shorthand term) who enjoy my work, and I am very fond of those I know personally. I also have mad respect for writers like Kenneth Grant, Michael Aquino, and Don Webb, each of whom has been a major inspiration to me personally. So it is not a matter of wanting to distance myself from LHP culture at all. It’s just that I deviate from most LHP ideologies I know about, which all seem to emphasize worshiping the self over any external deity. I believe everyone is really a living demigod, so the idea of worshiping yourself actually makes perfect sense to me; but there is no reason a polytheist can’t also revere other divinities in addition to their own. Yet I have found that speaking of devotionalism in LHP circles can stir up just as much controversy as discussing hexes can in Wiccan circles, and for reasons that are equally small-minded. I worship and pray to Set as if He were a real sentient being (again, regardless of whatever He might actually be in objective reality, which is irrelevant). If being a devotional polytheist is enough to disqualify me from fitting beneath the LHP umbrella, then so be it—but I’ll thank you not to insult me by labeling me as “right-hand path” (the Tantric term for “orthodox” practices), since I do not have a single “orthodox” bone in my entire body.

Some writers argue that “magic” should be limited to purely operative and/or initiatory spiritual practices, and that devotional rites are more properly consigned to the less interesting category of “religion.” But even stargazing, lifting weights, or walking a dog can be just as magical or “spirit-activating” as casting a spell to heal your friends, attract a mate, or call down your Holy Guardian Angel. So how can anyone truly legislate what is or isn’t “magical” for others? All spiritual practices are magic of one kind or another, from the obscure Rite of the Bornless One to the common Sunday Mass; so there is no need for anyone to poo-poo other people’s preferences here. Maybe you’re the kind of person who doesn’t care about religion and who only cares about astrology or Tarot reading. Or maybe you’re the kind of person who doesn’t care about fortune telling, and who just wants to pray to some ancient fertility Goddess. Either way is enough to justify calling yourself a witch (or the cultural variant of your choice).

I’ve engaged in operative and initiatory projects over the years; I’ve worked spells, gone on vision quests, blessed people’s homes, execrated negative energy, etc. But the bulk of my craft has always been devotional in nature. There is nothing more magical to me than invoking Set at the shore of Lake Superior, out among the trees and the bears, with the Big Dipper twinkling in the sky above and the waters below, and for no other reason than just to enjoy Big Red’s company.

The Egyptian hieroglyphic for heka (“activating the ka”).

Paganism Setianism

Set’s Sacred Critters

June 16, 2020December 27, 20248 min read

A discussion of the animals that are sacred to Set—including donkeys, pigs, hippos, oryx, and elephantfish.

As with most other Egyptian Gods, certain animals are considered sacred to Set. First and foremost is the mysterious creature that the Egyptians called the Sha.

The Sha Animal

This little fella—which is otherwise known as the “Set Animal” or “Typhonian Beast”—is one of history’s greatest cryptids. It resembles a red-haired greyhound with rabbit ears, a long curved snout, and a forked tail. Egyptologists are divided as to whether this animal actually existed and went extinct, or if it’s just a mythical creature the Egyptians created from bits and pieces of different animals (like a dragon, griffin, or phoenix). Some authors have theorized that it may be a stylized hyena, jackal, aardvark, or fox. It might actually be a fennec fox, which looks like this in real life:

The Fennec Fox (From Pixabay.com)

Fennec foxes are nocturnal, and they’re native to the Sahara Desert in Northern Africa. As you can see, this little guy has the biggest ears you’ll ever find on any member of the Canidae family, and he even has reddish-orange hair. Fennec foxes are also very social animals, they mate for life, and they can live for up to 14 years in captivity. Unfortunately, they are often hunted by indigenous African tribes. They don’t cause any direct harm to humans (like attacking people or livestock), but their fur is highly prized. It hasn’t been definitively proven that the Sha is really a fennec fox by any means, but considering the shape of the Sha’s body in Egyptian religious art, I think this is the most likely possibility.

Later on, in Greco-Roman times, Set was more often drawn as a donkey-headed man, and donkeys are probably my favorite Setian beasties. Conventional wisdom assumes that a donkey’s stubbornness is due to stupidity (which is why the word “jackass” later became a derogatory term for people who act like imbeciles), but it’s actually because they’re very wise and cautious. It’s extremely difficult to force or frighten them into doing anything they perceive to be dangerous, and you must earn a donkey’s trust before you can convince it to work with you. Donkeys are so resistant to being bullied, in fact, that farmers will often keep them stabled with horses to keep the horses from spooking so easily. Other animals just seem to feel better when there’s a donkey around, which makes perfect sense to me. What better totem animal to represent the mighty Red Lord than a floppy-eared underdog that refuses to be bossed around (and that’ll crush your skull with its hind legs if you even dare to try)? Not to mention that donkeys are really very trusty companions and workers once you get to know them (and once they get to know you).

The Donkey (From Pixabay.com)

Pigs are also sacred to Set, and this includes all pigs (from Miss Piggy to those big Razorbacks that gore people to death in the Australian Outback with their tusks). Big Red takes the form of a black boar when He blinds one of Horus’ eyes in Egyptian mythology, which is just one reason why pigs are so often considered “unclean” in some faiths today. Other reasons relate to religious dietary laws and the fact that pigs are genetically closer to humans than any other animal. In Judaism and Islam, animals must have split hooves and chew their cud to be considered kosher or halal, and while pigs have split hooves, they don’t chew their cud. At the same time, pig flesh bears the closest resemblance to human flesh (i.e., “the long pork”) in the entire animal kingdom, as evidenced by the fact that pig carcasses are so often used by crime scene investigation units when they re-create crime scenes. In light of this resemblance, some ancient cultures probably thought that eating pork was much too close to cannibalism for comfort.

The Pig (From Pixabay.com)

Some Egyptologists have theorized that the Sha isn’t really a canid at all, but some kind of feral hog. (P. E. Newberry once claimed that some feral hogs have greyhound-shaped bodies, but I have yet to see anything like this for myself.) I’m skeptical of this interpretation, but I do think the Sha’s tail and curved snout are similar to those of a wild boar. In any case, perhaps the connection between Set and pigs is what inspired the creators of the Legend of Zelda video games to give the evil sorcerer Ganon a boar’s head.

In one myth, Set takes the form of a hippopotamus while battling Horus. Hippos are semi-aquatic, spending most of their time in water and only walking on land at dusk. They’re also the toughest and most dangerous herbivores on Earth. Male hippos are especially aggressive and were highly feared by the Egyptians for their tendency to attack people without provocation. They were revered by Zulu warriors for this same quality, and were considered braver and more difficult to kill than lions.

The Hippopotamus (From Pixabay.com)

If you’ve ever seen a baby hippo, you’ll know it’s just about the cutest thing in the entire world…and you’ll wonder how such a cute little thing could possibly grow up to become one of the world’s deadliest creatures. One of my least favorite things about ancient Egypt is that the Temple of Horus at Edfu includes an engraving of Horus spearing a baby hippopotamus. The image represents Horus defeating Set in one of their many battles, so I know it shouldn’t be taken literally. But I can’t help but wonder if it doesn’t also represent an actual ritual in which a priest of Horus might have slaughtered a captured baby hippopotamus as a way of sticking it to Big Red (which would be shitty).

Then there’s the oryx, which is a type of African antelope. Big Red was sometimes called “the White Oryx” and was also identified with antelope in general (perhaps as a result of being worshiped by desert-dwelling hunter-gatherer societies). The funny thing is, oryx, pigs, and hippopotamuses are all members of the same order, Artiodactyla, which includes all of the even-toed or “cloven-hoofed” ungulates (e.g., goats, sheep, deer, giraffe, etc.). It is no accident that cloven hooves were later identified with the Christian devil, who was identified with both Set and the oryx by the Coptic Church. It’s bizarre to me that horned, cloven-hoofed critters like the oryx and the goat would come to be considered “satanic” by such people, since they’re herbivores that pose absolutely no threat to human beings.

The Oryx (From Pixabay.com)

Finally, Set is said to be rather fond of fish. When He drowns and dismembers Osiris in Egyptian mythology, He feeds the God’s phallus to a fish. No one’s really sure what kind of fish this supposedly was, but some sources theorize that it’s a member of the Mormyridae or “elephantfish” family. They’re called “elephantfish” because their snouts resemble elephant trunks. In fact, you might say that the faces of these fish bear a striking resemblance to the sha animal:

The Elephantfish (From Wikimedia Commons)

I think it’s pretty safe to assume that Set’s fish is from the Mormyridae family, for the Egyptians were nice enough to make statues of the fish, especially in a city called Per Medjed or Oxyrhynchus (a Greek name which means “Town of the Sharp-Snouted Fish”). For whatever reason, the fish that swallowed Osiris’ penis was especially beloved to the people of this city. This is especially interesting since Oxyrhynchus was located in what archaeologists call “Upper Egypt” (i.e., the southern and most desert-like half of the country, which was dedicated to the cult of Set in predynastic times). Their statues of Set’s fish show once and for all that the fish is definitely a Mormyrus of one kind or another.

It’s ironic that a barren desert God would be associated with an aquatic animal, but it makes perfect sense to me at least. If you’re accustomed to living in an arid desert wilderness, what would you expect heaven to be like? You’d probably imagine it to be a place where there’s never any shortage of water, like an oasis, a lake, or even an ocean. The fish, in turn, would be seen as a powerful symbol of hope. Interestingly, Oxyrhynchus was one of the first Egyptian cities to accept Christianity under the Coptic Church. (Numerous non-canonical Christian texts have been discovered there.) Early Christians used the Ichthys or “Jesus Fish” as their primary religious symbol long before they switched to using the crucifix, and perhaps this is something that attracted the people of Oxyrhynchus to Christianity.

Monsters Movies Paganism Setianism

The LV-426 Tradition

June 15, 2020December 27, 202414 min read

Some background on the unique Setian coven in which I became a priest.

There are three other Setians with whom I’ve been privileged to work some truly life-changing magic over the years. These individuals know who they are, but out of respect for their privacy, I will only identify them here as Blackwyn, the Tonester, and Sister Bean. To walk with Set is a solitary path, even when you’re part of a group, and not everyone in my circle will always agree with each other on everything. But the point isn’t that we always believe or practice the same things. The point is that we are each drawn to Set in our own ways and for our own reasons; that we’ve crafted a number of effective rituals and spells together; and that we’ve all witnessed the same eerie results these procedures can yield. Years have passed since we first declared ourselves a coven back in 2003; we’re spread far apart from each other now, living in our own areas and focusing on our own priorities. But even if we never meet in person to hold another ritual together again, we will always be connected with each other somehow.

That “somehow” is Set.

In 2007, we started referring to our collected rites as the LV-426 Tradition for the following reasons:

The 1979 sci-fi/horror film Alien is a prime example of what we call “the monster film as mythos,” and we wanted our name to memorialize the film for this reason.

The Tonester and I were both living in the Bible Belt at the time, and Ripley’s struggle against the Alien was a perfect metaphor for how we felt about living there.

Being a couple of smartasses, we wanted a name that was far too cumbersome for repeated use in brief conversation. (Say “LV-426 Tradition” six times in the same paragraph to see what I mean!)

From left to right: The Tonester, Sister Bean, Yours Truly, and Blackwyn.

In case you’ve never seen it (and shame on you if you haven’t!), the original Alien is about these astronauts in the distant future who follow what seems to be a distress signal of unknown origin. They make their way to a desolate planet called “LV-426” in their star charts, where they find a crashed alien spaceship with a dead crew and a shit-ton of weird, leathery eggs for its cargo. One of these eggs hatches, unleashing a horrific beast that reproduces itself by raping one of the men (!). Due to a breach in protocol, the creature enters the next phase of its life cycle back on board the ship, and the movie then becomes a slasher flick in outer space. The last person standing is Ellen Ripley, played by Sigourney Weaver, who emerges from the chaos and the carnage to become the first female action movie hero.

The Alien strongly resembles ~~Apep~~, that timeless arch-nemesis of Set. Designed by the Swiss surrealist, H.R. Giger, its biology makes no sense. How can it see without any eyes? Why would anything evolve to have two mouths—one inside the other—when just one mouth is simpler? How can its blood be so corrosive that it will burn through any metal, but without being deadly to the creature itself?¹ Nothing in nature can exist like that, and the same is true of ~~Apep~~. It’s described as lacking any sensory organs—it has neither eyes nor ears—yet it’s somehow able to locate and paralyze its prey with a hypnotic gaze. It’s also described as “breathing by means of its own roar” and “living by means of its cries,” which means it doesn’t require any sustenance for its survival; it just eats things to make them suffer (Manassa, 2014). Both ~~Apep~~ and the Alien are monsters that can only exist in nightmares, that operate in total defiance of natural law, and that would be absolutely poisonous to any ecosystem in which they managed to thrive.

Ellen Ripley, on the other hand, is a perfect stand-in for the Red Lord. She is the outsider or “black sheep” among her crew, the only one who takes her job seriously, and a real stickler for protocol (even refusing to let Captain Dallas [Tom Skerritt] board their ship when she learns he has an infected crew member in tow). Compare this to the other female crew member, Lambert (played by Veronica Cartwright), who complains, screams, or cries helplessly throughout the film. Then there’s the fact that Ripley dresses and behaves like a man. One of Set’s many lovers is the Ugaritic Goddess Anat, who is usually depicted in men’s clothes (Patai, 1990), and whom Set is said to find especially attractive for this reason. Given how much He enjoys smiting monsters like the xenomorph, and given how partial He is to androgynous ladies like Anat, it’s hard for me not to imagine Set cheering for Ripley from upon His throne behind the Great Bear. (Plus, going through so much trouble to save Jones the Cat must surely score Ripley some additional points with Bast, Ishtar, Sekhmet, and other like-minded Goddesses of feline goodness.)2

Anat, an Ugaritic Goddess who is one of Set’s many consorts.

Alien is also filled with various references to sexual anatomy and the reproductive process. The ship’s computer is called “Mother”; the astronauts look like they’re being born when they awaken from their cryogenic sleep chambers; the tunnels of the derelict craft on LV-426 resemble giant fallopian tubes; and the xenomorph’s head is shaped like an erect penis (which always makes me think of someone being raped in reverse during the infamous “chestburster” scene).³ Ripley even has her final confrontation with the beast in her underwear,⁴ and she must also contend with “Mother,” which insists on keeping the Alien alive for future study (even at the cost of the astronauts’ lives). So a secondary conflict rages between Ripley and the computer, which cares more for the survival of the “child” than it does for the “parents.” This is especially intriguing given that Set is thought to cause abortions and miscarriages (te Velde, 1977). As His cinematic avatar, Ripley must further alienate herself from her society by “aborting” the gestating life form her superiors have deemed more important than herself (Cobbs, 1990).

H.R. Giger was obviously influenced by the New England horror writer, H.P. Lovecraft; but I’m fairly certain he was also inspired by a British occultist named Kenneth Grant. Once a disciple of the infamous Aleister Crowley, Grant was obsessed with what he called the “Tunnels of Set,” which are supposed to be these astral wormholes that loop back and forth between various alternate universes. He was the first occult author to suggest that H.P. Lovecraft was a “sleeping prophet,” and that monsters like Cthulhu and Nyarlathotep are real beings that actually exist in some other dimension. (He beat the Simon Necronomicon to this punch by at least a decade, if not longer.) Given this, I’m sure Grant’s ajna chakra or “third eye” probably exploded wide open if and when he ever got around to seeing Alien for himself. And if H.R. Giger wasn’t specifically thinking about the “Tunnels of Set” when he first envisioned the winding, cyclopean corridors of that ghost ship on LV-426, he sure as hell could have fooled me.

From left to right: H.P. Lovecraft (1890–1937), Kenneth Grant (1924–2011), and H.R. Giger (1940–2014).

Though we tend to share Grant’s enthusiasm for the “many-worlds” interpretation of quantum mechanics, my coven mates and I have zero interest in contacting any of the horrific fauna that H.P. Lovecraft envisioned for his lurid tales. We instead emphasize execration, or the use of magic to repel negativity and misfortune from people’s lives. This is functionally similar in principle to casting a death curse on someone, save that the target of your spell is ~~Apep~~, the true source of all evil, and not any human victim. As far as we’re concerned, walking with Set isn’t about getting chummy with Lovecraftian space monsters; it’s about ferociously defending the autonomy of all sentient beings.

The idea that we must be “ferocious” in this regard comes from when the Tonester and I lived in the Bible Belt during the early 2000s. We were constantly under siege from “Rapture-ready” teachers, classmates, employers, cops, and politicians. We couldn’t even go for prayer walks in the woods without being harassed by people who thought we were “worshiping the devil.” After a while, it began to feel as if we were actually trapped in some hostile wilderness, with a very real monster coming after us. That monster wasn’t an actual xenomorph, of course, but ~~Apep~~; and instead of literally trying to eat us, it was trying to eat our hearts from within. But Set is merciful; He brought us together in that wretched place, against all odds, and He blessed us with each other’s company and support. Then we met Blackwyn and Sister Bean in Michigan a few years later, and the rest is history. Each of us is proof for the others of Set’s providence, and Alien is an excellent parable for our own private quests against the Serpent.

But execrations are not the only staple of our practice; there’s also our weekly Sabbat ritual, which is observed on Friday nights. We enter a darkened room that has been prepared with an altar, an image of Set, and some red candles. We recite our standard invocation together, and then we take turns praying to Set informally, as if He were just a regular person in the room with us. Usually this means discussing our hopes and fears, our best and/or worst moments of the week, or something along those lines. When one person finishes their prayer, they turn to the next person in sequence (which is always to the left) and say, “If there is anything you wish to say to the Red Lord at this time, please feel free to do so.” And if the next person has nothing they wish to pray about, they keep silent so the next person can proceed. Once everyone has finished, we break out the beer, blast some heavy metal, and chat with each other into the wee hours, sometimes not adjourning until daybreak. The exchanges we’ve shared during these late night Sabbat talks are some of the most profound meditations I’ve ever experienced in my life.

Some other things we’ve done include a spell for protection during sleep, an astral pilgrimage technique, and a matrimonial ceremony that was used for my wedding in 2012 and for Sister Bean’s in 2015. There’s also an initiation ritual that’s used for inducting new members, but this procedure is known only to those who pass our vetting process and are invited to join. (Considering there have only been four of us since Set first struck me with His black lightning in 1997, you can imagine how often this happens.) Our liturgical calendar includes not only our weekly Sabbat but also Hallowtide (October 31–November 2), Walpurgisnacht (April 30), and Friday the Thirteenth (on which we celebrate Set as the catalyst for Osiris’ resurrection and Horus’ conception). Importantly, we have no leader or “high priest/ess”; each of us is fully qualified to administer our rites to anyone who might need them, and all of our group decisions (including whether to initiate any new brothers and/or sisters) are made by unanimous vote.

Apart from the above, we Setians of the LV-426 Tradition may each entertain any additional beliefs or practices we like. Some of us revere other sacred figures along with Set, like Buddha, the Norse God Odin, or the Babylonian Goddess Ishtar. Some of us even celebrate Christmas or Saint Patrick’s Day. Our eclecticism is rooted in Set’s New Kingdom role as an ambassador between the Egyptian Gods and other pantheons. Just as He can roam between alternate realities and canoodle with alien divinities, so are we free to mix the old Kemetic wisdom with just about anything we find useful, from American colonial witch lore to Zoroastrian demonology. Some outsiders may find this permissiveness toward religious dogma repugnant, but we couldn’t care less; Big Red is the only justification we need.

It’s been a while since we last met as a coven to keep the Sabbat, execrate our inner demons on Walpurgisnacht, or offer up a feast of watermelon to Big Red on Friday the Thirteenth. I can’t speak to how often the others may or may not “keep up” with these practices nowadays (though I must admit it has been hard for me to do so consistently, myself), but none of us has ever been expected to make such a commitment anyway. It’s the fact that we even did these things at all—and the magic we shared when we did—that really matters. And there’s always the possibility that somewhere down the road, a fifth initiate of LV-426 might present him or herself to us, setting a whole new cycle of ritual work into motion. For now, all LV-426 alumni are off exploring other proverbial worlds, but always with Set’s Iron in our spines.

The LV-426 Sigil

Notes

¹ I’m well aware that in Ridley Scott’s prequels to this film—Prometheus (2012) and Alien: Covenant (2017)—it’s revealed that the xenomorphs did not evolve naturally, but were genetically engineered as a kind of biological warfare. This still doesn’t explain why their blood, which can burn through any damn metal you please, doesn’t just burn right through their own bodies as well.

² Some viewers—including Big Steve King—complain that Ripley’s quest to save Jones the Cat is a “sexist interlude” that undermines her role as a feminist character (King, 1983). I’m a proud cat parent, and if I were in Ripley’s position, I’d risk everything to save my fur baby too. (Ten bucks says if Jones were a dog, nobody would be bitching about this.)

³ The “chestburster” scene is quite similar to the story of Set’s birth according to Plutarch (1970). He recounts that Set was not born at the normal time or in the normal fashion, but that He impatiently exploded forth from the belly of His mother, the sky Goddess Nut. It’s tempting to think the screenwriter, Dan O’Bannon, might have encountered this story at some point while writing the script for Alien.

⁴ Some viewers—again, including Mr. King—complain that this final sequence “sexualizes” Ripley too much (King, 1983). I have to say that as a straight dude, this scene has never once made me think, “Ooooh, look at the naked chick!” Instead, it always makes me think about this one time I had to fumble around in my basement naked to get some clean clothes out of the dryer, only to be greeted by a huge spider that made me piss myself. In other words, it makes me identify with Ripley rather than objectify her, and I for one applaud Ridley Scott for framing the scene in that way.

References

Cobbs, J.L. (1990). Alien as an abortion parable. Literature / Film Quarterly, 18(3), 198–201. Retrieved on October 5, 2017.

King, S. (1983). Danse macabre (2nd edition). New York, NY: Berkley Books.

Manassa, C. (2014). Soundscapes in ancient Egyptian literature and religion. In E. Meyer-Dietrich (Ed.), Laut und leise: Der gebrauch von stimme und klang in historischen kulturen (pp. 147–172). Bielefield, Germany: Transcript Verlag.

Patai, R. (1990). The Hebrew Goddess (3rd edition). Detroit, MI: Wayne State University Press.

Plutarch (1970). De Iside de Osiride. Cardiff, Wales: University of Wales.

te Velde, H. (1977). Seth, God of confusion: A study of His role in Egyptian mythology and religion. Leiden, Netherlands: E.J. Brill.

Paganism Setianism

Setianism: A Brief Introduction

June 15, 2020December 27, 20245 min read

What I believe, and why I wrote this brochure.

Read the Brochure

I understand platforms like Facebook have to burden us with advertisements; after all, they can’t do everything they do without making some kind of revenue, right? But ever since I joined, I’ve received a staggering number of ads for hardline Catholic and evangelical Christian ministries. For example, just last year (in 2019):

Steven Kozak sent me a piece bemoaning the “post-Christian” times in which we live.

True Horizon sent me an article that attempts to prove atheism is really a “religion” (!).

The National Catholic Register sent me a warning against shopping at Walmart because it is supposedly selling “satanic merchandise” that can lead people to hear “satanic voices” in their heads.

Ray Comfort—the pastor who is best known for pleasuring a banana on his televangelism show, The Way of the Master—sent me a sermon about how “[through] God’s power, many homosexuals have been forgiven and changed” (i.e., brainwashed to hate themselves and think they are straight).

Catholic Action for Faith and Family sent me a request to “send my support” to Bishop Thomas Tobin, who publicly claimed that LGBTQ Pride events are “dangerous” for children to attend.

The “Alliance Defending Freedom” sent me an article imploring me to help them fight the Equality Act, which would add sexual orientation and gender identity as protected classes to existing laws that ban discrimination.

The Vatican sent me a new document they’ve been circulating to address the “educational crisis” that is being “caused” by transgender people.

And just this week, John Hagee—yeah, the guy who once offered some pretty anti-Semitic interpretations of the Holocaust—has been sending me multiple ads for his latest book about the endtimes.

Facebook seems to think I might find these things interesting because I am a legally ordained minister. You would think that with all their fancy algorithms and what-not, they would notice I am not a Christian and I am an LGBTQ+ ally. And while Facebook does provide us with the ability to hide or even report any ads we don’t appreciate, this feature is virtually useless. I receive a new ad for each one that I report or block (and often on the same day, in fact).

I’m not saying these people should be banned from Facebook or anything like that. I respect their First Amendment rights, even if I think the things they say and do are deplorable. But let’s get real here: if Pagans were to start employing these exact same recruitment techniques, these assholes would start screaming and throwing tantrums. To make things even more interesting, some Pagans feel it would be “unethical” to engage in this sort of outreach. Paganism is a personal thing, they argue, something that should never be marketed like a product. But Paganism does not develop in a vacuum; no one becomes a Pagan just because the idea occurs to them right out of thin air. They hear about it from someone else first, and if they are interested, they investigate the subject in greater detail; then they make a decision and act accordingly. None of us would be Pagan, not even me, if no one ever “advertised” Paganism at all. This notion that we’re just supposed to hide and wait for people to come to us is actually harmful because it holds us back as a community, it prevents us from enjoying the same protections other faiths enjoy, and it alienates up-and-coming Pagans who don’t even know they are Pagans yet. Clearly, a new way of doing things is needed.

With all of this in mind, I’ve designed a tract about my own particular branch of Paganism. I’ve decided to send copies of this tract to every single pastor, church, or other religious group that sends me any more of these solicitations on Facebook (and on every other social networking platform I might frequent). I’m also giving serious consideration to printing a ton of hard copies and sneaking them into church restrooms throughout my entire state (especially in red congressional districts). I understand most people will probably not even look at it, and that it is unlikely to affect most readers. This is irrelevant. I’m willing to bet there are people involved in each of these ministries who are secretly Pagan and who are just waiting for someone to light a great big Pagan bonfire in their hearts. Perhaps by sending this tract to these groups, some of these individuals might happen to see it and be awakened. It could just be a large waste of my time, but I’m sick and tired of the way things are, so I’m putting this out there in the hopes that perhaps it will do someone some good.

Here is a version of the pamphlet that can be shared electronically. (If you print, remember to print double-sided!)

Setianism: A Brief Introduction

I sincerely pray that my work here will benefit someone out there, even if it’s someone I will never know or meet. May Set straighten your bones with His holy iron, and may you be empowered to embrace yourself for the living demigod you truly are!

Monsters Movies Paganism Setianism

The Monster Film As Mythos

June 15, 2020December 27, 20248 min read

Explaining the LV-426 belief that monster movies are more sacred and profound than any Kirk Cameron flick.

I enjoy interpreting films, TV shows, and popular music from a Setian perspective. This isn’t just a “hobby”; it’s an essential part of my spirituality. I believe Set and other Pagan Gods like to reveal themselves through popular cultural media, and in ways that are more often subliminal than not. It’s easy to recognize the Goddess Isis in that old 1970s TV show, The Secrets of Isis, where she’s an actual character who fights crime. But have you ever noticed how similar James Cameron’s The Terminator (1984) is to the myth of Isis fleeing from Set to ensure the safe birth of Horus? Just imagine that Sarah Connor is Isis, Kyle Reese is Osiris, the Terminator is Set, and John Connor is Horus; see what I mean?

I’m not suggesting that James Cameron actually did this on purpose. I just think one or more of the Gods probably reached into his brain back in 1984 and shuffled some stuff around in there while he was writing the script. I think this happens all the time, not just with James Cameron, but with potentially any filmmaker. I know it sounds silly or perhaps even “crazy,” but the idea that the Gods would leave “secret messages” for us to find in movies, TV shows, or even Saturday morning cartoons is no different from divining omens in tea leaves or the Zodiac. Just because these media are human inventions doesn’t mean the Gods can’t use them for their own purposes. If they can reveal themselves through clouds and trees and dreams, they can just as easily do the same thing through anything created by human hands.

“But G.B.,” I hear some of you asking, “What about things that are purposely inspired by Egypt? Things like Stargate SG-1?” Well my answer to that question is so complex, I had to write a whole other sermon about it to do the subject any justice. But with very few exceptions, I am almost never impressed with anything that’s intentionally inspired by Egyptian mythology.

I find that such works tend to fall into one of three clichéd categories:

The “killer mummy” movies, in which the mummy is always some ancient evildoer who seeks to claim the modern reincarnation of his long-lost love. (This includes pretty much any film called The Mummy or that has the word “Mummy” somewhere in the title, like 1964’s The Curse of the Mummy’s Tomb.)

The “ancient astronaut” movies, in which the Egyptian Gods turn out be gooey aliens that fly around in spaceships. (This would be where Stargate fits in.)

The “biblical epic” movies, which all treat the book of Exodus like it’s a Gods-damn court transcript. (This includes such esteemed classics as The Ten Commandments, The Prince of Egypt, and Exodus: Gods and Kings.)

You’d expect there to be more of Set in something like Gods of Egypt (in which He’s an actual character) than there is in a movie like the original Godzilla from 1954 (which has nothing to do with Egypt on the surface); but I find the opposite is more often true. Whenever Egyptian mythology is intentionally adapted into fiction, the result is often far less interesting than the original source material. Cinematic portrayals of Set in particular have absolutely nothing to do with how anyone has ever worshiped Him in real life. (The next time you watch the original Conan the Barbarian from 1982, bear in mind that feeding naked women to giant snakes has never been a standard feature of Setian religious practice.) Yet there are other creative works that don’t intentionally invoke Set in any way, but which do so serendipitously, and which are more consistent with actual Setian ideas and values. This to me is a sign that these films have been “touched” by Set, especially if the people who created them have never heard of Him before.

In my opinion at least, the films that seem to resonate with Set the most are monster movies—sci-fi, horror, and fantasy romps that feature aliens, giant animals, mutants, supernatural beasties, or even cryptids like Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster. No matter what creatures they might feature, all monster films are about chaos intruding upon the world of order. Sometimes this chaos is caused by forces external to humanity (as with alien invaders), and sometimes it’s caused by human monsters (as with serial killers). Sometimes the chaos is visited upon the innocent (making the story a tragedy, or an example of when bad things happen to good people), and sometimes it falls upon the wicked (making it a morality tale, or an example of when bad people get their comeuppance). Either way, it all boils down to the eternal struggle between order and chaos, light and darkness, creation and annihilation.

You’re probably wondering why a minister would take such a serious interest in this kind of subject matter. (After all, aren’t religious people supposed to think that monster movies are “sick” at best or “satanic” at worst?) The truth is, I think monster tales are the oldest kind of story known to humankind. Sure, epic adventures and steamy romances have been with us a long time too, but the one emotion our earliest ancestors were probably most familiar with was fear.

Consider what John Goodman says in Joe Dante’s Matinee (1993):

A zillion years ago, a guy’s living in a cave. He goes out one day, Bam! He gets chased by a mammoth. Now he’s scared to death, but he gets away. And when it’s all over with, he feels great […] So he goes home, back to the cave, the first thing he does, […] he does a drawing of the mammoth. And he thinks, “People are coming to see this. Let’s make it good. Let’s make the teeth real long, and the eyes real mean.” Boom! The first monster movie.

When you think about it, fear has motivated people to do many things. It motivated our ancient ancestors to band together, hunt for food, develop agriculture, and establish laws to prevent themselves from killing each other. It also motivated them to tell stories, to put their faith in higher powers, to repel misfortune with charms and magic, and to hope for a better life in the great hereafter. In short, fear is just about the mother of everything that’s included in human civilization, including religion.

There’s even an element of the monstrous in religion itself. The theme of chaos intruding upon order appears in every religious mythology. Every pantheon of Gods must contend with at least one horrific monstrosity that wants to destroy us all:

In the Coffin Texts (dating to circa the 20th century BCE), Set is and will always be defeating the monster ~~Apep~~.

In the Babylonian Enuma Elish (dating to the 7th century BCE), the God Marduk slays the dragon Tiamat and creates the cosmos from her corpse.

In Hesiod’s Theogony (dating to the 7th century BCE), the Olympian Gods defeat the gigantic Titans and bury them within the earth.

In Psalm 74 (dating to 586 BCE), Yahweh slays Leviathan and feeds it to his saints at the end of time.

In Revelation 20 (dating to 81–96 CE), Christ defeats Satan and Antichrist, casting them both into a lake of fire.

In the Bundahishn (dating to the 9th century CE), Ahura Mazda destroys the monster Ahriman and rehabilitates the damned.

In the Poetic Edda (dating to the 13th century CE), the Aesir and Vanir will kill and be killed by the frost giants of old.

Every monster film echoes one or more of these combat myths on some basic level. Even in the original Friday the 13th (1980), the character of Pamela Voorhees (played by Betsy Palmer) is really just another Tiamat, and the camp counselor Alice (Adrienne King) is the stand-in for Marduk. The characters and circumstances are quite different, but the story is essentially the same, and it’s the oldest story in the world.

Many faiths also have some horrific notion of what might happen if people just stopped practicing religion altogether. The Gods might abandon us; the dead might rise up to torment the living; the whole world might fall apart; and so on. Films like The Birds (1963) and The Mist (2007) may not seem to have anything to do with religion on the surface, but each depicts some stern, cosmic judgment against humanity for its collective sins. And the number of films that depict vengeance upon the living by the restless dead—such as Poltergeist (1982) and A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984)—is in the thousands. For these reasons, I think monster films are the finest medium for religious expression and interpretation, superior even to most overtly religious films. There is far more divinity and truth to be found in something like It Came from Outer Space (1953) than there is in, say, Kirk Cameron’s Saving Christmas (2014).

Now praise Set, and pass the remote!

Paganism Setianism

Set is a Savior, Not a Devil

June 15, 2020December 27, 20244 min read

Tackling the anti-Setian trope that Set is the “God of evil” or “Egyptian devil.”

In popular culture, Set is usually cast as the Egyptian “God of evil,” a kind of “proto-Satan.” You see it in the Conan stories, Doctor Who, the Marvel Universe, Vampire: The Masquerade, and most recently in the 2017 Mummy reboot. But popular culture’s version of Set is not the Set who was actually worshiped in ancient Egypt. The Set I know is more of an antihero who does things that none of His fellow Gods really want to do, but which have to be done anyway. His job is to make sure there’s always some kind of forward movement happening throughout every level of existence. Sometimes this means making trouble for the other Gods (as when Set slays Osiris or challenges Horus), and sometimes it means saving them from horrific chaos monsters (as when Set saves Ra from ~~Apep~~ each night).

~~Apep~~ is the true adversary in Egyptian mythology. The hieroglyphic for its name is a snake, its body looped in multiple coils, its flesh pierced with butcher knives. This thing is much more like Satan than Set is, though it’s actually far worse. Satan’s just an angel at the end of the day; Jesus or Allah is destined to kick his hiney at the end of time, and he can only do whatever his Maker allows him to do (which says something about his Maker). ~~Apep~~ is not a being created or controlled by any God, but something more like a black hole, a vapid non-entity that just wants to eat everything. And since it isn’t a created being to begin with, it can never be completely defeated or destroyed. It can be repelled or execrated in various ways, but it always comes back. Despite its ultimate immortality, ~~Apep~~ is not a God, but more of an “Ungod.” It was never worshiped in Egyptian religion, but was only worshiped against. Set plays a major role in preventing it from ending the world each night, and that’s what I love most about Him.

~~Apep~~ tries to murder the world by swallowing Ra, the sun God. We might be tempted to ridicule the Egyptians for thinking a giant snake was floating around out there in outer space, trying to eat our sun; but this assumes the story is meant to be taken literally. It’s also a disturbing metaphor about sleep, in which Ra “dies” each night and travels through the Netherworld to be “reborn” at dawn. As we sail through the unconscious terrain of sleep, we can encounter all kinds of frightening phenomena in the form of nightmares. ~~Apep~~ is the stuff nightmares are made of, and Set is the stuff nightmares are afraid of. Therefore, the theme of Ra’s salvation by Set is more like the oldest known version of “If I should die before I wake.” It represents the hope that we will all wake up again after going to sleep, even when we enter the sleep of death.

One of my most important rituals is what’s called an execration spell. I create things to represent my deepest, darkest problems; I invoke ~~Apep~~ into those objects; then I invoke Set into myself and smash, slice, or burn the objects in His name. I actually become the Power that my nightmares are afraid of, and I do to them what they would do to me. This procedure doesn’t solve all of my problems; indeed, anyone who expects magic to solve all their problems is gravely mistaken. But it does help me cope with them more productively. Externalizing one’s inner demons and symbolically destroying them can be very therapeutic, and Set is an excellent facilitator for such magic. If Big Red is “Satanic” when it’s between Him and Osiris and/or Horus, then He’s really quite Christian when it’s between Him and ~~Apep~~.

Left: Set smiting ~~Apep~~. Right: The archangel Michael smiting Satan. See the resemblance?

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