No animals or small children were sacrificed on a high altar. Witches and warlocks did not gather around a bubbling cauldron, casting spells on their enemies. Satan worshipers did not offer praises to the devil.
No, at the Pagan Expo on Saturday in the Uptown neighborhood, the most unusual sight was a 1-year-old boy wearing a Spiderman costume left over from Halloween.
The event, held at the International Conference Center, 4750 N. Sheridan Rd., was organized by the Pagan Interfaith Embassy, which billed it as an attempt to foster greater awareness of and dispel some misconceptions about pagans.
The 200 or so pagans who attended were doing their best to make it known that they are tired of distortions about their religion and that they’re ready to come out of the closet–sans brooms, that is.
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“We’re just regular, everyday people. We’re your neighbors, your teachers, your doctors, your friends,” said Paulette Reynolds, a self-proclaimed witch who looks more as if she should be starring in the remake of “Bewitched” than be imagined hunched over a pot of boiling newt, wand in hand.
The event was held the day after Halloween–or Samhain, as pagans call it–because it is the first day of the pagan religious calendar.
The expo drew 13 merchants who hawked such pagan-related merchandise as wands, crystals, Tarot cards, incense and athames, which are ritualistic blades used more like pointers than as cutters. They also sold books on witchcraft and cassettes of New Age music.
The event, which was held three weeks after a similar three-day convention in Lisle, attracted pagans from 13 groups. Bankers, teachers, artists and computer programmers, they sat for hours discussing their brand of religion and sharing with fellow witches and warlocks their personal stories of conversion.
Rose Chikiar, 17, of Homewood said she converted to paganism two years ago after spending three years visiting various Christian churches seeking deeper spiritual meaning. Her mother had converted to paganism three years earlier.
“When my mother first came home and told me she was a witch, I laughed at her and said, `Only freaks do that,’ ” Chikiar recalled as she sat with her mother behind a so-called Sanctuary of the Crescent Moon table.
“Then, I did my own research and decided it was the way for me also. It has a feminine aspect to it, and it feels very earthy to me.”
Although the number of followers of paganism has grown, worshipers complain that stereotypes die hard. Many at the event said they hide their beliefs, fearing rejection or loss of their jobs.
“We are not embarrassed of who we are, but we have to be careful of identifying ourselves because there is a real threat of persecution and retribution,” said one exhibitor, a witch who identified herself only by her “craft” name, Laima. “People still think we are demons and sit around worshiping Satan. What they fear is the unknown.”