Editorial Note: Our correspondent, Elyse Welles became a target for using tarot cards at the temples at Eleusis. We share her report of the experience.
ATHENS – I write this with a heavy heart from the other side of the Atlantic. Quite frankly, I didn’t want this article to come out before I was safely back in the United States for my yearly visit. I live in Greece and facilitate pilgrimages to sacred sites on the mainland. One of my most popular tours, understandably, is to the temples of Eleusis. This site, the home of the Eleusinian Mysteries, is a temple complex featuring the famous Telesterion, where the Mysteries were revealed and overseen by the Hierophant. It includes the Temple of Demeter with its once-towering columns, and my favorite part of the site, the Ploutonion in Hekate’s Cave.
As visitors walk along the fence toward the entrance of the ancient site, they are often struck by how destroyed it is. The columns haven’t simply fallen with age; they’ve been pummeled and obliterated beyond repair. While other sites, like the Acropolis of Athens or the Temple of Poseidon in Sounio, appear aged, Eleusis was destroyed with fervor and intent—to be irreparable.
That destructive purpose came from the Greek Orthodox Church, which sought to stamp out the pagan traditions once celebrated by hundreds of thousands of visitors each year. A still-consecrated Orthodox church stands atop Hekate’s Cave, built from the temple’s remains as a point of pride, a reminder of the overseers who continue to wage war against their own country’s ancient roots. It was these overseers that I was confronted with on Thursday, October 3rd, 2024.
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While I was with a client, finishing up our tour to Eleusis, we ended the visit with a tarot reading under one of the few shaded spots—a tree where tour groups typically gather. This is something I’ve done countless times with clients and have never had an issue. Occasionally, the sensation of being given the evil eye by the site’s staff can be strong, but we’ve also had positive experiences—once, a staff member even gave us an extra ten minutes at the site to finish our meditation. However, this was not such a time.
As we laid out the cards on the ground—an eight-card spread, probably about ten or fifteen minutes into the reading—a staff member approached us. “No games,” he said. Out of courtesy to my client, I spoke in English, explaining that we weren’t playing a game. “You cannot leave these cards here,” he responded. I assured him, again in English, that we wouldn’t be leaving anything behind.
We thought that was the end of it, but a few minutes later he returned with an older woman, who said she worked at the site. “This is not allowed here,” she said. I asked where the rules were posted. “We don’t have to show every rule. The cards are not allowed. This is an archaeological site.” She repeated that last line several times, a coded assertion that this is not a sacred place, but simply a museum. I began filming halfway through this reprimand, and when this article is published, I will share the video on my social media.
Since they couldn’t show me any rules and couldn’t claim I was damaging the property, they allowed us to stay on the site. My client and I still wanted to meditate at the Temple of Hekate, and we did—though the site officials followed us closely for the rest of our visit. I’ve had other similar encounters, and clients have shared their experiences with me as well.
Trumps of the Tarot de Marseilles, a standard 18th-century playing card pack [public domain
Once at Eleusis, I was with a client who has a prominent pentagram tattoo. We were followed uncomfortably closely throughout our visit. When we approached the Well of Persephone, a site that held significant meaning to her personal practice, she took my hand in a moment of emotional overwhelm. A site attendant approached us, waving her arms in an X motion, saying, “No, no, this is not allowed.” I asked in both Greek and English what exactly wasn’t allowed, but she wouldn’t say more. I don’t know if they were afraid we were performing a ritual, or if our same-sex hand-holding upset them, but it certainly wasn’t against any rules.
I’ve been asked not to sit on the ground at Delphi, and clients have reported the same, though sitting was allowed at other times. I’ve been told not to meditate at the amphitheater in the Agora, a place known for philosophical meditation in antiquity. And I’ve been scolded by site attendants at the Temple of Artemis near my house, where I often go without issue, for raising my hands in prayer while standing in the picnic area facing the temple. It wasn’t until I adopted a pose common in ancient Greek worship that they objected.
All of these instances of persecution are extensions of the original destruction of pagan beliefs that the Orthodox Church initiated over a thousand years ago. It makes me wonder if the employees are taught to look out for these signs, or if, for them, it’s a personal matter of defending their faith against those who don’t follow it. Today, the Orthodox Church remains strong in Greece. Ninety-eight percent of Greeks are baptized into the church, and the social pressure to conform to church doctrine is immense. According to a Pew Research Center poll, 76% of Greeks believe that being Orthodox is required to be ‘truly Greek.’ I’ve shared extensively about this on my Instagram account @seekingnumina, but being a Witch in Greece is not easy—it’s nearly illegal. While Witchcraft itself isn’t expressly forbidden, adjacent practices like fortunetelling or charging for spiritual services are.
The Orthodox Church also holds significant power in the government, so in cases where Witchcraft is seen as anti-Christian, the ability to persecute someone for their beliefs is a very real threat. As a Greek citizen raised in the U.S., I’ve struggled to find community after moving here. When I’ve had the rare pleasure of meeting another Greek Witch, they’re often unwilling to practice magic together or even meet other Witches, afraid of being outed for their practice. Additionally, in Greece, a person’s religion is stated on their ID card, and only state-approved religions can be listed. Employers see these ID cards before hiring you. Being a Witch in Greece is, at worst, not allowed, and at best, dangerous.
When situations like what happened at Eleusis occur, I’m ready to write an article, film the incident, and post it to social media. I’m half American, after all—I’m ready to make a spectacle of injustice. But when this happens to Greeks, or to tourists who aren’t sure of their rights in a foreign country, it’s understandable that such an experience can feel frightening and disheartening.
I call on Greece to do better—I call on the individuals who work at these sites to do better. To them, these places might be museums, but to us, they are our spiritual history. These temples deserve to be honored by those who hold them in reverence.
You can learn more about the fight for religious equality being waged by Hellenic polytheists in Greece in our earlier articles. Keep up with The Wild Hunt and my Instagram page to stay informed on how things are progressing and how you can get involved.
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