Growing up, I knew two things-- I was "German & Swiss", and I was "Pennsylvania Dutch." The former I learned from my mother, who told me our ancestors came from Germany and Switzerland, which made sense to me from a young age because she sent me to a very small private, Catholic school which was of German population, and our mascot was the "Flying Dutchman." Where I grew up in Central Pennsylvania, the Catholic schools were each formed around their parishes, and each parish was largely formed around the ethnicity of the population it served within the neighborhood it was established. The Catholic line of my family came from one branch, that being my maternal grandfather's line. Interestingly enough, it was my maternal grandmother who simply and matter-of-factly stated, "we're Pennsylvania Dutch" whenever asked of our heritage. Truth be told, I had no idea what that meant as a child, there was a huge disconnect for me between my mom telling me we were "German & Swiss" and her mother telling me we were "Pennsylvania Dutch," and what that all meant for me. I certainly did not connect the hex signs on my grandmother's sheds and the scrapple and other traditional foods I was raised on, or the language and word usage she used sometimes, to reflect that "Pennsylvania Dutch" descent she labeled us. Those things were just part of my culture and life. Certainly, as a young child I didn't ponder the religious piece much, either. It wasn't until I was an adult and I worked on my family tree I came to look at that aspect a little closer. I came to realize that my father's side of the family had all come from the Palatinate of what is now Germany and Switzerland, and they were Swiss Mennonite / some Amish from Switzerland, as well as Methodist, and Lutheran Reformed from the Palatinate region of what is now the region of Germany around the Pfalz-Rhineland. Looking back over to my Maternal side, my maternal grandmother's bloodlines were Lutheran Reformed from the Palatinate region of what is now Germany. None of these things were a surprise. It was my maternal grandfather's maternal bloodline that surprised me; his maternal grandfather immigrated to Pennsylvania from Tyrol, Austria (that region is now part of Italy). His paternal bloodline was from the Palatinate of Germany.
During my ancestral studies over the years, I did learn what it meant to be "Pennsylvania Dutch," and that definition included the regions of Europe from which the immigrants settling Pennsylvania between (roughly) the 1700's and 1800's originated, including the German-speaking regions of the Rhine, Palatinate (Pfalz), Baden, Hessen, Darmstadt, Nassau, Hanau-Lichtenberg, Wuerttemberg, Alsace-Lorraine (France), Tyrol (Austria), and several cantons of Switzerland. I did not see mention of Tyrol in any of my further studies or reference materials over the years until I recently read "Shaman of Obserstdorf" as part of my Pennsylvania Dutch historical, cultural, and Braucherei. Though the book focuses specifically on the German Village of Oberstdorf, the book looks deep within the folklore, folk healing, traditions, and culture of the general alps' region in Southern Tyrol (now Italy), Germany, Switzerland, and France- specifically at the divisiveness of the "witch hunts" post-Christianity, and the fallout of such injustice over time to the culture. I became excited to see Tyrol mentioned several times throughout this book, and I even mapped its close proximity to Obsertdorf and other locations mentioned in the text to get an overall understanding of the larger picture of regional folklore and culture in these rural, high-altitude, simple communities who network with one another and keep to their old-world ways and prefer to be untouched by outsiders.
The "witch hunts" and "witch trials" in 16th, 17th, and 18th century Europe were pervasive. We hear most often about the miscarriage of justice, but we hear little of the stories behind the people who reached untimely death by unspeakable horror and inhumane means of torture and cruelty in the days of their incarceration leading up to their unghastly demise. Sometimes we read short blurbs of their pardon many decades following their death. Their label of "witch" that led them to their grave seems to taint their names in the history books with a certain unshakable ugliness that no pardon can wash clean of the false ideas of time.
Intrigued as I was by the lore and culture of the region highlighted in "Shaman of Obsertdorf", I did some research specifically in the area of Tyrol, where my maternal grandfather's maternal family originated. Southern Tyrol, tucked-in around the foothills of the Dolomites, is a region drenched in mysticism and rich in lore. Though many creatures and spirits are said to roam the region, the most well-known are the Sciliar Witches. According to "The Witches of Sciliar," by Rachael Funk, (www.greatvaluevacations.com), before Christianity arrived in the region, the Sciliar Witches were local women who used herbs to cure illnesses and performed rituals to encourage a plentiful harvest; however, in medieval times, their reputations changed, and they were then persecuted for anything that went wrong in the town. Their folk remedies and rituals which were once regarded as harmless, perhaps even necessary, were now viewed as pacts with the devil, and a witch hunting frenzy began. Talk-about-town rumored gatherings on the mountain every Thursday, arriving on either horseback or broomstick, so the witches could take part in black magic rituals, and also dance with the devil. Thunderstorms and weather-related damage was further blamed on the witches, since foul weather tended to gather naturally above the peak of the Sciliar. The oldest witch was said to preside over the coven gatherings on the plateau where she sat on a chair-shaped boulder.
Post-Christianization of the region energized magnetism behind a movement that scapegoated once respected members of the community who were hailed for their abilities to care for others. These caretakers, mostly women, now found themselves defending unbelievable accusations against impossible odds within a corrupt judicial system. To illustrate this culture, there was even a witch hunting manual entitled the Malleus Maleficarum, which was a best-seller of its time, second only to the Bible for 200 years, which argued witchcraft to be on par with the crime of heresy, which was punishable by burning at the stake. The Maleficarum was written by a discredited German clergyman named Heinrich Kramer, who was thrown out of Innsbruck by the local bishop for overstepping legal bounds prior to the writing of the book which detailed topics such as what witchcraft was, witches' powers, recruitment process, and a detailed guide on how to conduct a witch trial. The book also told judges how to protect themselves from spells. A lengthy section also describes how to use torture to extract confessions and overcome a witch's "stubborn silence." By the 1530's, about 20 years after the second witch trial in South Tyrol, the Maleficarum was condemned for illegal procedures.
In 1505, seven women and one man were burned at the stake for being witches in South Tyrol. In 1510, suspected witches were accused of causing a drought with magic and they were also burned. According to Funk, " more than 60 people were tortured until they confessed to harming people and animals with their witchcraft, causing fires with the help of Satan, eating babies, causing damaging weather, and intentionally spreading the plague." Funk further related that once someone confessed, they were jailed or executed promptly, and a second trial happened about ten years later and raised the death toll in the area greatly.
The word "witch" in and of itself conjures images and ideas baked into popular culture by mainstream beliefs. Definition of the word shifts depending upon the personal perceptions held by the speaker in the moment and can be the root of misunderstanding when points of view are assumed, or not well-established, in conversation and context. To help move past the stereotypical images of a black-pointed-hat-wearing, wart-nosed, black cloaked hag perched on a broomstick, it helps to look at the etymology of the word "witch." According to wordorigins.org, "witch, meaning a practitioner of magic, can be traced to the Old English wicca (masculine) and wicce (feminine). Etymologist Anatoly Liberman goes further and traces it to an unattested, pro-Germanic root, "wit-ja" which is related to wise and wisdom." In medieval times, witches were unequivocally considered to be evil and to be condemned; during the seventeenth century, distinction between black and white witchcraft begins to be made; modern day practices range from nature worship to deity worship, from religion to practical application, and expression is tinged by the intent of the practitioner not the ideas and opinions of those who may cast judgment upon them. Some practitioners of the occult may not even claim the title "witch" for the work that they do, while a Christian churchgoer may claim the title due to folk healing practices in which they actively engage.
To suggest a person of Christian faith would simultaneously choose to call themselves a witch may seem like an oxymoron to some, while the practice of Braucherei (the folk healing practice of the Pennsylvania Dutch) by persons of any faith, Christian or otherwise, would qualify such person the title witch by many conservative Christian practitioners. Likewise, within Braucherei itself, there are many charms, written and verbal, that address matters of "witchcraft" and "evil," especially regarding protection of persons, property, animals. To understand the perspective of the charms and the perspective in which they were written, one must orient oneself to the period from which they originated. For purposes of this article, I will reference only the grimoire commonly known as "Long Lost Friend," by John George Hohman, published in 1820. Hohman was a Pennsylvania Dutch healer of Catholic faith. Many charms published in his book were republished from earlier magical works. His grimoire and the charms within are easily obtained by anyone who seeks to own a copy. The language used within is dated to an era where modern medicine was contained to major cities, and mental health diagnosis was limited at best. The majority of Pennsylvania Dutch settlers were rural farmers, their land, crops, families, and communities were everything to them; in times of failing health and misfortune, often the curse of a witch was blamed. Evil was often the scapegoat for the natural failures that come with or poor decision. Mental illness was the curse that had yet to be diagnosed by medicine. The witch referenced in the old grimoires was a person who made a pact with the devil to do harm. The majority of the settlers were illiterate and formal church services and medical care was difficult to receive regularly. Communities took care of one another. Historically, Brauchers served the spiritual and medical needs of rural communities, and sometimes this meant removing curses, or protecting persons, land, or animals from witchcraft. In modern times, practitioners of Braucherei apply the old-world charms with new-world knowledge, utilizing the information, resources, and experiences of our ancestors before us to best help our communities in these current times. That is not to say that there are not persons of pure evil intent roaming this earth. There are. I am saying that the people who are in a "pact with the devil" are few and far between on this planet.
As you can see, the word witch is both etymologically and historically problematic from numerous perspectives. Above all else, modern usage of witch toward another in context outside of their true industry is insulting, and in the nature of healing oneself and the community, we should eradicate the small, insidious seeds of evil from our own language and consciousness whenever we have opportunity to find common ground, as fear and oppression were the driving forces behind the "witch hunts" where our ancestors once walked. And even the promise of religious freedom here in Pennsylvania did not stop the suppression of the Pennsylvania Dutch culture, particularly our language and folk healing practices, in the mid to late 1900's. My mother's maternal grandmother was a Braucherin, and the word witch was used as a weapon of shame against her to suppress her practice, her power. Our people are no stranger to this oppression. It is not only persons outside the Pennsylvania Dutch culture who throw these daggers. We should not create further division among ourselves with needless labels due to differing religious beliefs, or varying points of view.
I am very proud of my heritage. One thing is clear from the adversity we have survived over the centuries- we are resilient and we are only getting stronger. Our culture has not died, in spite of the best efforts of the English to assimilate us into "mainstream" culture, our language did not die. Braucherei did not die. Pennsylvania Dutch language and culture classes are becoming increasingly available and in-demand, while Braucherei is making a comeback, as well.. I am seeing more and more traditional ways becoming of interest to folks who want to learn to live off the land, hone survival skills, heal with plants, and generally live sustainably. Some say there is something riding on the air, a sense of urgency to return to the old ways out of necessity. I say there is something definitely riding on the air-- our ancestors, calling us to return home, to feel our authenticity pulsing through our veins, to connect with our roots -- that spiritual whisper from the motherland, to Pennsylvania, telling us to get out of our own way, and tune into everything we need to move our culture forward.
by Gretchen Swank 3/27/2023