Magic, witchcraft, and religion have a long and intertwined history that dates back centuries. These three concepts have often been linked together due to their overlapping practices, beliefs, and influences on human societies throughout time. Magic is the practice of using supernatural forces to influence or manipulate events or people. It often involves rituals, spells, divination, and the use of talismans or amulets. Magic has been a part of human culture since ancient times, with different forms and variations found in various civilizations across the world. While some see magic as a tool for personal gain or control, others consider it a way to connect with higher powers or energies.
Mexico’s witch legends recall the Holy Inquisition’s reign of terror
The 16th and 17th centuries were troubling times in Mexico. With the Spanish conquest came Catholic doctrine, which conflicted with Indigenous religious beliefs and rituals.
Spanish attempts to convert Mexicans to Catholicism weren’t going well, so the Holy Inquisition stepped in to speed up the process.
The conquest of Mexico by the Spanish was a slow and brutal process. (Wikimedia Commons)
People feared the Inquisition with good reason: witchcraft, sorcery and adultery were accusations made under the umbrella of heresy, and those found guilty by the Catholic court could be burned alive at the stake.
Neighbors accused neighbors; family members accused other family members; everyone feared being turned in to the Inquisition if they didn’t turn in someone else. Women who were herbalists or curanderas (healers) , or who were powerful in the community, were often prime targets.
So go the legends of La Maltos and La Mulata of Córdoba, two women who were said to have been accused and sentenced to death for witchcraft but escaped — using witchcraft, of course.
The legend of La Maltos, the Witch of the Arches of Ipiña, takes place in San Luis Potosí in the 17th century. At the time, much of the population had a high socioeconomic status, and La Maltos was a very powerful figure within her class. It was said that her name was María Ignácia de Malto and that she was so influential, she had a position with the Holy Inquisition.
A suspected witch is interrogated by the Inquisition. (Wikimedia Commons)
As the story goes, La Maltos rented a large building from a powerful family in San Luis Potosí in the middle of the city and used the ground floor for torture and executions on behalf of the Inquisition, while she lived in the upper part of the building. There, she was said to have cast evil spells to end her enemies’ lives — 30 of them men with important government positions. Some were men she targeted for revenge, including former lovers who rejected her.
At night, she would ride wildly through the city streets (with impunity due to her position) in a grand carriage drawn by two large horses as black as night.
However, she made a mistake: she murdered two men from families more powerful than her.
Once accused, it is said that La Maltos made no effort to defend herself and was sentenced to death for murder and witchcraft. Before her execution, she made one final request: that she be allowed to paint a mural on the wall of her home, called the Arches of Ipiña.
Her request granted, she was taken to the house and given paints and brushes. On the wall, she painted a lifelike picture of herself mounted on her carriage. To the astonishment of the police chief, mayor, and other onlookers, the painting supposedly came to life. La Maltos mounted the carriage and disappeared through the wall, never to be seen again.
The building once known as Arches of Ipiña still stands in the San Luis Potosí’s historic district with the mural intact. Some say the ghostly carriage can be seen emerging from the walls and that at night, you can hear the chanting of spells from inside the house.
The Arches of Ipiña.
Another legend, that of La Mulata of Córdoba, took place in the 16th century. The records of her trial by the Holy Inquisition can be found in Mexico’s National Archives. Known as Soledad, she was a skilled herbalist from the city of Córdoba, Veracruz. She was beloved by the people she helped and known for her striking beauty.
The townspeople of Córdoba came to her for solutions to their problems and always left satisfied. A young woman without suitors; a worker without work; a lawyer without clients – they all came to her for help — telling others that Soledad had solved their problems.
Although loved by many, Soledad was also resented by women and men alike. Envious women speculated that she was a sorceress that made a pact with the devil to remain so young and beautiful year after year. Yet she showed no interest in suitors, causing many men to resent her indifference.
This legend has had many different versions retold over the years. Some say she was the lover of wealthy landowner Don Luís de la Cueva, who died mysteriously in his home; the authorities suspected Soledad but did not have enough evidence to incriminate her. Others say she was turned into the Inquisition by a jealous wife whose husband commented once too often on her captivating beauty.
Perhaps the most popular is that Soledad was turned into the Inquisition by the Mayor of Córdoba, Don Martín de Ocaña, in anger over her rejection of his amorous advances. Legend has it that he started the rumor that she was a witch, and that she had given him a potion that made him fall in love with her.
The townspeople, scared of being judged by the Holy Inquisition, corroborated his story. Upon being questioned, many witnesses said they saw her fly over rooftops at night while laughing ghoulishly. They also claimed that Soledad forced them to sell love potions.
The people of Córdoba still report seeing La Mulata in her Veracruz town today. (Wikimedia Commons)
Regardless of who made the original accusation, La Mulata was locked up in the San Juan de Ulúa prison and sentenced to death at the stake for practicing witchcraft. Just before her execution, however, she asked the guard if he could bring her a piece of charcoal so that she might draw some pictures on the wall. The guard admonished her for not praying for forgiveness in her final hours, but, perhaps due to her beauty, obliged her request.
The guard watched in amazement as Soledad drew in great detail a sailing ship on the ocean. She then asked him, “What is missing from this picture?”
Looking at it, he said, “Nothing that I can see. It’s perfect. Except, it needs someone to navigate it.”
Laughing, Soledad replied, “You’re right!” She jumped aboard the ship and sailed off — right through the wall of her prison.
People still report sightings of La Mulata in Córdoba. They’ve reportedly seen her flying overhead — her dark eyes gleaming like the devil’s — and laughing maniacally. Others have reported strange chanting and lights shining from her house. At times, people have seen a ghostly ship coming out of the walls of the prison with Soledad on board.
Even former president Porfirio Díaz (1848–1876) recounted seeing her apparition and watching as she turned into an owl and flew away.
Sheryl Losser is a former public relations executive and professional researcher. She spent 45 years in national politics in the United States. She moved to Mazatlán in 2021 and works part-time doing freelance research and writing.
In Mexico, Witches Brew Comfort : Culture: From the peasant to the president, magical powers and potions are part of the daily lifestyle.
Local legend has it that this thirsty pocket of arid northeast Mexico, 125 miles from the U.S. border, once was home to the most vile Indian witches.
Following the arrival of the Spaniards, the witches’ spirits were locked in a petaca , or trunk, and buried during an exorcism, giving the town of 2,000 people its name.
Crosses were put up at La Petaca’s four corners to ward off evil. They remain. So does the area’s reputation as a caldron where witches can cook up their magic.
“I can’t believe I’m here,” says a young woman named Sonia after waiting six hours with dozens of others for a “consultation” with Maria Cepeda, a famous witch.
AdvertisementSonia says she needed help because her husband left her with a year-old son and a baby on the way. “Sometimes you get so desperate you’ll try anything,” she says.
The term witch is generic in Mexico, covering a wide range of people who serve as doctor-counselor-confessor, treating illnesses and personal problems with a mix of religion, herbal medicine and folk psychiatry.
Witches are sought to help solve problems ranging from colds and migraine headaches to getting a raise or finding a husband. Many witches claim darker powers that can harm enemies.
Almost every neighborhood market has its share of herbarios , stands that sell tools of the witchcraft trade, from crowns of garlic, plastic skulls and black candles to magic powders used to restore lost love, rein in philandering spouses or wreak havoc on a romantic rival.
The central and southern states of Veracruz, Oaxaca, Morelos and Michoacan also are famous for witches.
Although they may claim to be skeptical, many Mexicans, from presidents to peons, have had some contact with witches and their practices.
Advertisement“Folk healers can be found in just about any Mexican community,” says William Murray, who teaches medical anthropology at the University of Monterrey. “It has a great deal of psychosocial value.”
Witches are referred to as such by everyone but themselves. They usually prefer terms such as curanderos (healers), hechiceros (sorcerers), mentalistas (mind readers), medios (mediums) and videntes (clairvoyants).
Patients tend to come from the lower and middle classes, but witches have their richer followers as well.
“ Curanderismo has enjoyed an upswing in recent years because of Mexico’s troubled economic situation,” Murray says.
Even President Carlos Salinas de Gortari submitted to a ritual limpia , or cleansing, during a recent visit to Morelos. This practice involves passing black chickens, herbs, rocks or eggs over a person’s body to draw out illness and evil and bring good luck.
Many Mexicans consider illness not so much a physical problem as an emotional or spiritual one, Murray says. A sluggish or nervous person may blame his condition on mal de ojo (evil eye) or susto (scare).
These maladies are treated with herbs that have medicinal properties known since pre-Columbian time and rituals such as limpias that at least help a patient believe he will get better.
Murray says the university teaches its medical students to respect these practices so they can treat the community more efficiently.
“Patients use these terms to explain the way they are feeling,” he says. “It is part of the cultural vocabulary of illness, and students must be taught how to recognize it.”
Witchcraft in Mexico dates to the Aztecs. With the arrival of the Spaniards, witches began mixing it with European traditions, such as Catholicism, to the dismay of the Roman Catholic Church.
“Most curanderos are charlatans,” says Father Raul Rodriguez of Monterrey’s Church of the Divine Providence, who has studied different sects and folk Catholicism.
“A desperate person will try anything. It’s pure superstition, but a lot of people follow it.”
Still, witchcraft in its various forms is a part of daily life in Mexico.
On a busy downtown Monterrey street, vendors hawk herbs by the pound, along with rows of colored oils guaranteed to bring luck and love, soaps to grow hair and pills to cure infertility.
At the nearby Colonia Market, a young girl sits behind the counter of a shop filled with books on magic, framed pictures of saints, candles, perfumes and charms.
A customer complaining of insomnia is given two bags of herbs to mix as a tea before bedtime. Another whose boss is bothering her is told to light a candle and repeat a prayer for nine nights to “get rid of him.”
“Will it really work?” the client asks.
“Only if you have faith,” replies the salesgirl.
Avelina Reyes de Guerrero agrees. The 71-year-old woman has been providing trabajos , or works, for 30 years from a room behind her small convenience store in Linares, near La Petaca.
“First you need faith in God, whatever God that may be. Religion doesn’t matter,” she says. “You also need confidence in the person attending you.”
She sees about 15 people a day from all over Mexico and some from the United States.
Witches rarely advertise, preferring word of mouth. Prices tend to vary. Reyes, for example, takes whatever a patient can give.
“This is not a business,” she says. “If someone is asking for economic help, I can’t very well charge them, can I?”
Most witches, including Reyes, willingly send patients to medical doctors if they believe the problem is beyond their capabilities.
She considers herself a good Catholic and dismisses the church’s concerns.
“Some of the biggest cures are exorcisms, and only priests do those,” she says.
Reyes says her family stopped talking to her when she began training with a clairvoyant. “Now, I’m the first person they come to,” she says. Now she even has a niece as an apprentice.
Cepeda, in her 70s, gives consultations every Friday beginning at 5 a.m. from her ranch in La Petaca.
Although the legend lives on, she is only one of two witches left there.
Sitting behind an old desk, she receives clients in a room filled with statues of the Virgin of Guadalupe and Jesus Christ, pictures of Pope John Paul II and lighted candles.
When Sonia finally got in to see her, Cepeda asked for her husband’s birth date, did some rapid calculation, and announced that there was nothing she could do.
A true witch, practitioners say, would never pretend to help unless he or she actually could.
But that was little comfort to Sonia.
“I’m worse off now than I was before,” she said disconsolately.
Catemaco: A Hideout of Wizards and Witches in Veracruz, Mexico
I must confess that as a young boy, I visited this place repeatedly with the eyes of an innocent tourist. And even though my memories recalled the humid landscapes of the rainforest, the fragrance of the spring water, and the invigorating regional mud masks, it would not be until years later when I returned to shoot the documentary Tochtlán: Magic, Nature and Religion, that I truly understood the charming land of sorcerers, witches, healers and shamans that give life (and death) to Catemaco, Veracruz.
White magic is practiced openly in most of the region of Los Tuxtlas as a mysterious blend of ancestral herbal concoctions, modern medicine, and yes, a melting pot of magic rituals gathered from different parts of the world, aged in a mixture of the pre-Hispanic past with a tinge of Catholicism. As unusual as it sounds, this formula has seduced both the most powerful Mexican politicians and international celebrities, as well as curious tourists who seek health, money, and love, or simply an enchanted amulet that purges and protects their spirit from negative vibes.
This is the façade that protects and supports the highest ranked sorcerer since 2014, Enrique Marthen Berdón (Brujo Mayor), who descended from a long line of sorcerers. Nonetheless, there is also a less noble side to this occult science—black magic.
We sensed the thin line that separates light from shadow when we visited our first witch’s altar, decorated with shamanic and Christian motifs, merging the presence of saints and demons with shady portraits and astral lines. Once inside, skepticism and rationality abandoned our bodies, the air thickened, and the atmosphere activated a sense of alertness. We were in the presence of hundreds of images, without any order, which punished us with intense feelings of misfortune, uncertainty, and agony that eventually knocked out our cameraman. (I would like to think that he fainted because he was dehydrated. Wasn’t he?)
Our filming adventure was merely beginning, and the team already showed hard blows to their logic and faith. That increased the next day when we met Don Hilario, a botanic master who months before “cured” us some amulets made of quartz with our birth dates engraved on them so that we’d be protected on our way to the Cave of the Devil (Cueva del Diablo).
We took a small boat through the Enchanted Lagoon with a guide who pointed out that the trees twisted over the body of water, interwoven with the mangrove, giving life to aberrant forms. Likewise, he told us, the lagoon was infinitely deep due to the energy that emanates from the portal of the cave on the unstable magnetic field that transpires the area. We disembarked on a hilly path, and he explained to us the different types of witchcraft that were practiced inside the cave: revenge, spoils, moorings, diseases, death …
The sound of a conch sounded in the distance (weird right?), so we rushed toward the cave’s entrance where the foul smell of guano from thousands of bats welcomed us. With small torches, we entered (with due respect) to witness all manner of offerings nestled in the rock formations of the enclosure. With the shrill sounds of machetes beating on the rocks, exaltations to Satan, and a goat’s head on a stake, we witnessed our own urban ignorance cowardice as my crewmates and I nodded subtly, hiding our genuine desire to return home as soon as possible.
The way back was downright depressing. Confused, crestfallen, and cold, we returned to the hotel to download the raw footage (we couldn’t watch it until two weeks later). We went to a temazcal session that night to detoxify from everything, and the laughter began to flow again. It was then that the director recalled that inside the structure, a pentagram decorated the upper vault … the laughter faded and sorrow returned to our minds.
On this wild journey, we understood that white and black magic feeds on augmented beliefs of inexplicable faith and that in Catemaco, there is a part of this universe that is stripped of reason, even to the sanest of people. As crazy as it sounds, experiencing that degree of vulnerability forced me to evaluate aspects of my life that needed some improvement. If you plan to go to Veracruz, do not forget to visit Catemaco. I invite you to rediscover and heal yourself and to put reason to the test.
While some see magic as a tool for personal gain or control, others consider it a way to connect with higher powers or energies. Witchcraft, on the other hand, is closely associated with the practice of magic. Historically, witches were believed to have supernatural abilities and were often persecuted for their alleged mischief and malevolent acts.
The practice of witchcraft varies across different cultures and traditions, but it typically involves the use of spells, potions, and rituals to achieve desired outcomes. In some societies, witches are seen as healers or wise individuals who possess deep knowledge of herbs, nature, and the spiritual realms. Religion, on the other hand, encompasses a broader scope, involving organized systems of beliefs and practices that aim to answer fundamental questions about the nature of existence, human purpose, and the divine. While religion often involves rituals, prayers, and spiritual practices, it differs from magic and witchcraft in its focus on a higher power or deity. Religions provide moral, ethical, and social guidelines, offering their followers a sense of purpose, meaning, and a connection to something greater than themselves. Despite their differences, magic, witchcraft, and religion have intertwining elements. Many religious traditions incorporate magical practices or rituals, such as prayer, meditation, and the use of sacred objects. Similarly, witchcraft can have religious undertones, with practitioners often invoking or working with spiritual beings or forces. There are also instances where magical beliefs and practices have been integrated into established religions, leading to the development of syncretic traditions. Throughout history, the relationship between magic, witchcraft, and religion has been complex and often fraught with tension. In some societies, such practices have been embraced and integrated into religious frameworks. In others, they have been condemned and persecuted as heretical or dangerous. Nonetheless, the intertwining of these concepts has helped shape and define human cultures, beliefs, and practices across time and continues to influence our understanding of the world, spirituality, and the supernatural..
Reviews for "Witchcraft: A Modern Spiritual Movement"
1. Alice - 2 stars - I found "Magic Witchcraft and Religion" to be quite disappointing. The book lacked depth and failed to provide any concrete evidence or analyses of the topics it covered. It seemed to be more of a surface-level overview, making broad generalizations without delving into the complexities of the subject matter. Additionally, the writing style was dull and dry, making it difficult to stay engaged. Overall, I was hoping for a more comprehensive and insightful exploration of magic, witchcraft, and religion, but unfortunately, this book fell short.
2. John - 1 star - I regret wasting my time reading "Magic Witchcraft and Religion." The author's biased perspective and lack of objectivity were evident throughout the book. It felt like a one-sided presentation that completely disregarded alternative viewpoints. Moreover, the content was repetitive, with the same ideas being reiterated without adding any new insights. The book failed to provide a balanced examination of the topic and left me feeling frustrated and unfulfilled. I would not recommend this book to anyone interested in gaining a comprehensive understanding of magic, witchcraft, and religion.
3. Sarah - 2 stars - "Magic Witchcraft and Religion" was a disappointment for me. The book seemed more focused on promoting a specific agenda rather than providing a nuanced analysis of the subject matter. It lacked critical thinking and failed to address any potential criticisms or counterarguments. The author's personal beliefs overshadowed any objective examination of magic, witchcraft, and religion. I was hoping for a more scholarly and well-researched approach, but unfortunately, this book did not deliver. I would suggest looking for alternate sources if you're genuinely interested in exploring these topics.