MAGICK IN, MAGICK OUT
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by Janice Van Cleve
“It is really a great honor to be chosen,” I mused, setting down my fork. The planning committee for the autumn equinox ritual had called two weeks ago to ask me to present the communion bread. Tomorrow was the big day. I looked forward to this ritual with a heightened sense of responsibility, because communion had special significance to our circle and I had been entrusted with it. I chose an apple nut bread recipe that seemed most appropriate for the season and made ready to bake.
“So why not start by making magick while I bake?” I said to myself. “My kitchen is a sacred space and my apron will be a priestess robe. If this bread is to be sacred, its preparation should be sacred as well.” It sounded like a new technopagan mantra: magick in, magick out.
With my intention declared, I went to work. I put away the pots and pans and cleaned the counter tops to establish the area. Then I selected the tools and ingredients. The mixing bowl would be the cauldron, the wooden spoon the wand. “The cookbook will be my grimoire,” I cackled to myself.
On the kitchen table, I lit a candle. Next to it I placed a cup of water, a salt shaker and a stick of burning incense. One by one, I took the elements into the kitchen to bless the area and the ingredients. Each time, I repeated my intention to prepare the sacred bread in a sacred way. I called in the watchtowers to guard the cooking space and put a Lisa Thiel CD in the player. Now the magick could begin.
Wisp of incense, heat of oven, song and music mixed with flour and shortening as the spoon stirred in the cauldron bowl. Lightly dancing from counter to book to oven to pantry, I added a pinch of this and a spoonful of that. Soon the energy was rising along with the dough. Three times I kneaded it, until it plumped into a loaf ready for the oven. Then I sat quietly before the candle and prayed.
When the bread was done, I covered it with a cloth and cleaned up the kitchen as a grounding. I thanked the watchtowers and dismissed them, poured the incense ashes and water into a potted plant, returned the salt and blew out the candle.
The next day at autumn equinox ritual, the magick was palpable. The bread seemed to vibrate of its own upon the altar. When the circle raised the great energy and sent it into the communion, it was almost possible to see the loaf float above its plate. At communion, I raised the bread high and felt tingling all the way up my arms. The words of power voiced the magick we could all see: “Behold the mysteries of the Goddess! The bread that is Her Body and the drink that is Her Blood.”
When I offered the bread to the woman next to me and said, “May you never hunger,” I knew she was receiving much more than baked dough. I knew she was sharing the energy of the circle and my own special magick from the night before. When the bread came back around to me, I took a bite, and the full power of our magickal meal filled me.
In this communion, we experienced the multiplication of the loaves in their nutritive, healing and power-giving aspects. The magick that went into the baking and that was enhanced by the group ritual imbued this loaf with spiritual energy. Sometimes, store-bought food is the best we can do for a particular ritual, and that’s fine. But this experience of creating the communion magickally seemed especially important for autumn equinox and the feast of harvest. In a special way, it blessed this food unto our bodies.
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