On the Definition of Satanism

Three Devil-worshippers walk into a desecrated church ― stop me if you’ve heard this one. They light candles, burn incense, and, much to their surprise, they successfully summon Satan! When they bow down to worship His Infernal Majesty, He says, “Haven’t I taught you anything?!”

Satanism is not Devil-worship. No matter how often we restate this, misunderstandings persist.

But that’s no surprise.

Anton Szandor LaVey codified this religious philosophy under a name that, while accurate, had hitherto been used almost exclusively as a religio-political slur against assorted heretics, freethinkers, and pagans.

This nomenclature has parallels to the term “Impressionism,” which was first used as an insult against a pioneering approach to painting in the late 19th century. Since it was basically accurate, this pejorative was adopted as the most suitable name for a movement that eventually became “respectable.”

But Satanism is far more controversial than the pastel Luciferianism of the Impressionists, and the history of slander against it spans millennia.

And yet, with the founding of the Church of Satan in 1966, Satanism transubstantiated from a scandalous accusation into an unconventional means of self-realization.

In The Satanic Bible, LaVey rhetorically asks whether Devil-worshippers are “practicing Satanism in its truest sense.” He points out that previous definitions of Satanism were merely Christian propaganda, whereas he is expressing “Satanic thought from a truly Satanic point of view.”

Unlike its theoretical caricature, genuine Satanism evolved from atheism. After all, the mythological Satan doesn’t worship any gods above Himself. Neither do we. Every Satanist is his or her own god. You can’t get more Satanic than that!

LaVey’s unprecedented formulation organically integrates the full spectrum of the Satanic, from traditional ritual trappings to literary predecessors to previously unidentified strains of cultural resonance.

With LaVey came the first definition of Satanism that is truly Satanic, through and through. It is a comprehensively sound work of conceptual architecture. Each and every element is integral to all the others. Even so, the resulting structure allows for infinitely varied elaboration in accordance with the idiosyncratic passions of each individual Satanist.

Satanism is not a faith, but an augmentation.

Satanism applies the principles that define the very nature of Devils: the rejection of external gods, the embrace of carnality, and a stance of honest individualism.

Again: Satanists do not worship Satan. Rather, we emulate that mythological figure’s most productive qualities, rejecting the rest as anti-carnal propaganda.

This very act of defining Satanism, and correcting its misrepresentation, is a Satanic act unto itself. Ours is the most accurate definition, and quite naturally resisted by many who subscribe to an un-Satanic worldview. They simply cannot grasp what comes so naturally to us. And we cannot afford to forget that, lest we commit the sin of solipsism.

We insist upon this differentiation between Satanism and Devil-worship, pushing back against endless misunderstandings, because these efforts sustain the religious philosophy that enriches our lives beyond measure. On a personal level, I would like to give others a chance to experience the unexpected exhilaration of self-discovery that I enjoyed at age thirteen.

As Magister Nemo writes in “Satanism Needs an Enema!”: “The Satanic movement is ideas. The wrong ideas can kill what is truly Satanic in our efforts and leave us just another mindless cult.” If an already Satanic individual comes across too much misinformation before rejecting Satanism altogether, we will have lost the full emergence of a remarkably inspiring peer.

So, if we reject the supernatural definition of Satanism, why do we use the name? LaVey admits in The Satanic Bible that “they” named our religion. But, being anti-Satanic, most religionists interpret Satanism through the lens of their own mythological prejudices. Yet the hegemony of spiritual religions has, through the course of human history, solidly established the groundwork of what is considered Satanic. This provides a context for us that could be alienating, but which we adapt toward our own stimulation. The only problem is that they have also projected their own faith-clouded ideas into their conceptions of Satanism, thus accusing us of their own compulsive fantasies.

And so it is up to us, as Satanists, to continue asserting the definition of Satanism ― from a truly Satanic point of view.

Ray Bradbury, the Demon Muser (1920-2012)

On Wednesday, the sixth of June, the incomparable Ray Bradbury died at the age of 91.

Something Wicked This Way Comes, his haunting novel about a sinister traveling carnival, is included in the recommended fiction reading list of Blanche Barton’s book The Church of Satan. As diabolically evocative as that book is, though, it was not Bradbury’s greatest contribution to my Satanic education.

My personal favorite Bradbury work is Zen in the Art of Writing, which overflows with passionate wisdom for embracing the genuinely awesome experience of a profoundly creative life. Aside from The Satanic Bible, this has probably been the most influential book in my own evolution. Nietzsche ranks high on that list, too. But Bradbury captured, distilled, and transmitted the Nietzschean lightning within the space of a single, concise, and indispensable manifesto.

It is fitting that Bradbury left us on a Wednesday. That day is named for the warrior-poet god Wotan, who embodies wisdom and the full spectrum of its power, and whose name means “frenzy.” My lifelong affinity for Wotan, also known as Odin, owes a great deal to the empowering, poetic frenzy of Ray Bradbury.

The unrelentingly vital spirit channeled through Ray Bradbury’s art ensures his immortality for as long as there are individuals receptive to his works—those brilliant sparks of his generous “demon muse.”

Say Your Prayers: A Satanic Parody of The 23rd Psalm

From the first grade until the eighth, I attended a series of private schools run by Christians. Two were Catholic, and one was Seventh-Day Adventist. One was simply a Montessori Academy in which my ambidexterity was “corrected” for reasons I now recognize as superstitious. (After all, the left hand is “sinister.”) In the three overtly religious schools, I learned to recite many prayers, psalms, and so forth. Nowadays, I find great pleasure in rewriting one every now and then. When I do, I create syllable-by-syllable parodies, replacing the original theology with Satanic principles. Tonight, I have “Satanized” The 23rd Psalm. Just a little Black Mass before bed-time!

I am My own Master; I shall not want.
I roam and rest and rise and revel freely:
I ride whirlwinds over roaring waters.
I fulfilleth My Will:
I lead Myself in the paths of righteous might for My own sake.

Yea, as I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
Beyond good and evil:
The beast within Me,
My brain, and My force—
they strengthen Me.

I prepareth Myself, that I may be quick to ruinate mine enemies;
I indulgeth My mind and flesh; My joys are abundant.

Ample power and increase shall follow Me all the days of My life,
and I will live through My Ego, fulfilled, forever.

The Satanic Wisdom of Edgar Allan Poe

Edgar Allan Poe was born on this day in 1809. He is, of course, best known for his poem "The Raven" and his often macabre short stories. Though his contributions to literature occasionally incorporate Satanic values ranging from aesthetics to vengeance, there is one piece that has long struck me as his most thoroughly Satanic: a poem titled "Alone".

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were — I have not seen
As others saw — I could not bring
My passions from a common spring —
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow — I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone —
And all I lov'd, I lov'd alone —
Then — in my childhood — in the dawn
Of a most stormy life — was drawn
From ev'ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still —
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain —
From the sun that 'round me roll'd
In its autumn tint of gold —
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass'd me flying by —
From the thunder and the storm —
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view —

From beginning to end, this poem outlines several defining elements found in the lives of most Satanists.

We are born with the Satanic characters that we later refine, often finding ourselves outsiders — at least in our most avid interests — at an early age.

These solitary passions are not at all limited to the morbidity expected of many outsiders. Joy and sorrow, "good and ill" — the Satanist both embraces life's infinite pleasures and gains further strength and wisdom by overcoming unpleasant experiences. We love and hate completely, fully aware of and aligned with our instincts.

We are often inspired by the full spectrum of Nature's displays, from the soothing quiescence of fountains to the raging majesty of storms. As materialists, we find these profound in and of themselves — all the more so because our minds are free from the dulling effects of mythological superstitions. The very vicissitudes of our spectacular universe provide more than enough stimulation and insight for us.

I interpret the "demon" in this poem as a force that, though apparently ominous, embodies all of the diverse catalysts, enjoyable and difficult alike, mentioned by the narrator. A self-centered individualist, the narrator also uses his experience of the universe around him to enhance his self-awareness and self-understanding. He thus identifies with the external elements that rouse his spirit; he lives in alignment with the source of his inspiration, his "demon."

Most of this poem is included in The Book of Satanic Quotations; I was delighted to find it there, and not at all surprised that it was the only entry for Poe. The Satanic appeal of Poe is often in his aesthetics, whereas this piece depicts a personal experience often found in the lives of Satanists, many of whom can't even relate to each other beyond this peculiar brand of otherness.

Hail Edgar Allan Poe!