May 8: Magic vs. Mysticism
I have been doing magic shows
for more than 25 years now. I've performed in restaurants, bars, trade
shows, community halls, theatres, pretty much everywhere. And in all
that time, I have only had three groups of Christians tell me that what I
am doing is evil and Satanic and leading folks to hell.
The first two encounters came when I was relatively young. The first was when I was 19 and had managed to score a gig doing magic at Curly's restaurant and pub during Sunday brunch. I approached a trio of senior citizens - two ladies and a gentleman - and the man told me he wasn't interested in watching any magic because he "had a best friend named Jesus Christ."
There was a brief yet friendly disagreement about whether or not card tricks were tantamount to witchcraft. I tried to explain that I wasn't interested in witchcraft and one of the ladies responded with "Well when you get into drugs you don't start with heroin now, do you? No, you start with marijuana and you work your way down."
About a year later, while working at the Blackfoot Inn in Calgary, a very large family walked into the dining area and commandeered an entire table. One of the men, who looked like he was in his early 30s, approached me. He was not smiling.
"Are you doing magic tricks?" he asked.
I admitted that I was.
He grabbed my arm and marched me away from his table.
"My family is not interested in seeing any magic," he said. "I forbid you to approach us. Do you understand?"
"Yes sir," I said. I believe my tone was one of immense courtesy.
I was young and I was shaken up by this. I remember telling these stories to an older magician named Micky Hades and he told me that used to happen to him sometimes as well.
"It doesn't last," he told me. "They sit there and then they see you doing magic with sponge rabbits and red hankies and they see there's nothing evil about it."
I actually haven't had any Christians accuse me of being a closet warlock until five years ago.
Now the woman who leveled this accusation against me was a mountain Christian - which means that she and her family have their own home church and they may believe that all the denominations of North American Christendom have been hijacked by the devil. I need to say that this woman was very friendly. She wasn't trying to be a villain; she was trying to save my soul and the souls of people I might affect with my magic.
I told her that no one actually believed I had magic powers. Everyone I perform for knows, intrinsically, that there's a natural explanation for everything I do. It could be sleight of hand. It could be misdirection. It could be psychology or mirrors or lighting or optical illusions. But it sure ain't the devil. If people actually believed I had magic powers, my phone would be ringing off the hook. I'd have people asking me to change water into gasoline or garbage into gold.
And at that point I rest.
The first two encounters came when I was relatively young. The first was when I was 19 and had managed to score a gig doing magic at Curly's restaurant and pub during Sunday brunch. I approached a trio of senior citizens - two ladies and a gentleman - and the man told me he wasn't interested in watching any magic because he "had a best friend named Jesus Christ."
There was a brief yet friendly disagreement about whether or not card tricks were tantamount to witchcraft. I tried to explain that I wasn't interested in witchcraft and one of the ladies responded with "Well when you get into drugs you don't start with heroin now, do you? No, you start with marijuana and you work your way down."
About a year later, while working at the Blackfoot Inn in Calgary, a very large family walked into the dining area and commandeered an entire table. One of the men, who looked like he was in his early 30s, approached me. He was not smiling.
"Are you doing magic tricks?" he asked.
I admitted that I was.
He grabbed my arm and marched me away from his table.
"My family is not interested in seeing any magic," he said. "I forbid you to approach us. Do you understand?"
"Yes sir," I said. I believe my tone was one of immense courtesy.
I was young and I was shaken up by this. I remember telling these stories to an older magician named Micky Hades and he told me that used to happen to him sometimes as well.
"It doesn't last," he told me. "They sit there and then they see you doing magic with sponge rabbits and red hankies and they see there's nothing evil about it."
I actually haven't had any Christians accuse me of being a closet warlock until five years ago.
Now the woman who leveled this accusation against me was a mountain Christian - which means that she and her family have their own home church and they may believe that all the denominations of North American Christendom have been hijacked by the devil. I need to say that this woman was very friendly. She wasn't trying to be a villain; she was trying to save my soul and the souls of people I might affect with my magic.
I told her that no one actually believed I had magic powers. Everyone I perform for knows, intrinsically, that there's a natural explanation for everything I do. It could be sleight of hand. It could be misdirection. It could be psychology or mirrors or lighting or optical illusions. But it sure ain't the devil. If people actually believed I had magic powers, my phone would be ringing off the hook. I'd have people asking me to change water into gasoline or garbage into gold.
And at that point I rest.
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