“No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream.”
Shirley Jackson, “The Haunting of Hill House”
The most important question for a Satanist is "why?"
Back in 1990, as a freshman at university, I filled out an application, answered detailed essay questions designed to weed out the whackos, and joined the (then) San Francisco-based Church of Satan. 20 years later, I still consider it one of the most rational decisions I have ever made. Most people would question my logic.
But Satanism only seems irrational if you have no familiarity with it. Founded in 1966 by organist, lion-tamer, and showman-extraordinaire Anton Szandor LaVey, the Church of Satan was created to be the only rational Church out there. While skeptical about the existence of the supernatural, LaVey nevertheless recognized man had a psychological need for ritual and drama, and began to conceive of a Church that used these devices not to promote superstition, self-denial, and obedience, but rather self-expression, creativity, and indulgence. Because it was opposed to the doctrines of most major religions, and because it was a brilliant way to attract instant media attention, LaVey boldly adopted the traditional opponent of the Judeo-Christian and Islamic faiths as the symbol for his new group, and scandalously called it the “Church of Satan.” With a few well orchestrated media events, the Church was instantly a sensation, allowing LaVey to reach a much wider audience through a publishing career. Just three short years after the Church of Satan opened its doors, LaVey collected its philosophy in the pages of The Satanic Bible, a book that has never since gone out of print. This was followed by The Satanic Witch, a manual on cold reading, applied psychology, and seduction. The Satanic Rituals followed, and in the decades after LaVey produced colorful essays and social criticisms in books like The Devil’s Notebook and Satan Speaks! It is clear to anyone who has even read one of these works that LaVey was not your stereotypical devil worshipper, but rather a keen observer of human nature.
Like the mythological Lucifer, the Satanist rejects God and chooses, rather, to follow himself. Some of the Church’s teachings include the idea that man creates his gods, not the other way around. Worshipping a god some other guy invented is basically worshipping that other guy by proxy, so why not create a god in your own image and worship it? This leads to the idea that man is himself a god—not “the God," lording it over the universe, but a flawed and imperfect deity like the gods of the Norse or classical Greeks. Like them, man is a being of vast creative powers, capable of wonders. But at the same time, he is also a beast, an animal with instincts, drives, and needs just like any other. Just as the Devil is depicted as part animal, part angel, so too does the Church view humanity, and it regards both sides (the Light and the Dark) as healthy and necessary to the whole.
This embrace of man’s dual nature brings us to another key tenet of the Church; wisdom lies in a synthesis between a thesis and its antithesis, a “third side” that reconciles seemingly paradoxical points of view. This idea colors most aspects of the Church’s philosophy. For example, while the Church encourages rationality and skepticism, it recognizes that man needs fantasy, mystery, and wonder to ensure psychological health. For the Satanist the ritual chamber is the place to indulge in such fantasies, to explore the depths of the psyche and get pent-up needs out of one’s system. This is where ceremonial “magic” comes in. Having all the urges and violent instincts of our animal ancestors, but living in a society where they must be suppressed, the Satanist seeks a third side solution and exercises his dark side safely through ritual and symbolism. The urge to punish and kill someone who injures you, for example, is a natural one. Rather than repress it, or buy a gun and go out to blow the offender away, the Satanist might ritually torture, maim, and mutilate his antagonist in the form of a “curse.” This “third side” solution satisfies the emotional need without breaking the social contract. The same holds true for lust spells; one cannot simply go out and ravish whomever he choses, but one can do so ritually, in his own imagination, and doing so is often enough “to scratch the itch.” And where others might turn to prayer in a higher power in times of need and trouble, the Satanist views magic as a way to command, rather than beg, the universe into coming to your aid. Whether or not any of these spells affect real change outside the chamber, they have released toxic emotions from the self. And as many Satanists will tell you, more often than not in the wake of a ritual things really do suddenly seem to go the Satanist’s way.
The Church reconciles another paradox in being an organization of “non-joiners.” Vehemently opposed to herd conformity, and organizations which force uniformity on their members, membership in the Church of Satan is only a symbolic commitment made between yourself and your beliefs. Satanists are not required to attend meetings, seminars, or sermons. They do not need to gather and pray. They may do so if they like, and there is a sort of instant kinship when Satanists cross paths, but the Church neither encourages nor discourages this. In the two decades of my membership, I have only met a handful of other Satanists, and while joining them in group rituals and discussions was stimulating, I have much preferred to keep my practices to myself. Like any sorority or fraternity, members of the Church might extend a helping hand from time to time to their fellows, but are neither required nor expected to do so.
For me, these aspects of Satanism made membership in the Church a logical move. Of course, not all Satanists need to be members of the Church—they need only apply its principles to their own lives—but for me joining was a psychological turning point, a private commitment I have never regretted making. Satanism has allowed me a way to practice occultism without believing in it, to indulge my animal passions without breaking the social contract, to explore rich symbolism and imagery without accepting it as a literal truth, and to feel connected to something larger than myself without being enslaved by it. It has driven me to question and to doubt, to trust my instincts, and to explore and accept myself without shame. What could be more rational than that?
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