A public statement of Pastor Johnny to Church of the Morningstar on 1/4/2025.
Back when I was first thinking of starting a Satanic church, I had a chatty Uber driver one night. I confessed to him that I was an aspiring pastor, although not what kind.
“Put the pews in a circle,” he told me. “Pass the mic.”
With these words, he expressed his desire for a different kind of religion– one that was less top-down, more diffuse and democratic. He’d articulated something I also wanted. Put the pews in a circle. Pass the mic.
In the early days of Church of the Morningstar, that’s what we did. Back in San Francisco, we all saw each other face to face and knew each other’s names. It was easier to make sure that everyone was familiar with the non-hierarchical norms of the church. Everyone seemed to feel comfortable speaking up, giving their opinions, leading rituals, preaching sermons. Mass was an event that we all made happen together.
But with the lockdown, we had to go online, and things changed. There were suddenly a lot more members, who knew each other less. Thoroughly onboarding every single new person was too time consuming for our small volunteer clergy, so we hoped people would get a feel for the church’s intentions and culture through our website and published writings. We thought we had laid those things out pretty clearly and publicly.
And maybe we had. But what a church says, and what a church does, can be very different. People didn’t necessarily take those statements seriously. It seems that for a variety of reasons– some of which have to do with the religious trauma we all carry, and some of which have to do with my “strong,” i.e. sometimes overbearing personality– people haven’t always trusted in our invitations to participate, contribute, take leadership, and make this church in your image.
Now, I enjoy leading. I always have. In the beginning, I thought it was quite possible that power would corrupt me. I assumed I would have to keep an eye on myself, because I might like being in control too much.
Things worked out very differently. Having ended up with a type of authority that I did not ask for and did not want, I find that I actually hate it. There is no money and very little glory in being pastor of this church, just hard work, intense responsibility, and the endless sacrifice of my weekends. I’ve burned myself out emotionally supporting congregants. I’ve exhausted myself constantly creating new programming for our masses, with minimal input from anyone else but Vix. When I’ve tried to start discussions in the church, I have been met with silence, because people are afraid to disagree with me or say anything against what they perceive to be our “official dogma”– in spite of the fact that we try to be clear that we do not have one!
People defer to me in a way that I never wanted them to. People feel unqualified to take leadership roles, and unwelcome to contribute their ideas, their art, their rituals, and their opinions, to making this church richer, more interesting, and more diverse. I have tried to solicit all of those things multiple times, in multiple ways:
- with calls for submissions to the church anthology book which is now in the works
- with invitations to have your art featured on the Church of the Morningstar website on the “art collective” page
- with pauses in every mass to ask if anyone has anything they want to say, share or present
- with requests for participation and interactivity in mass via invitations to read aloud, speak parts of incantations, or take part in discussions
- with solicitations before masses for rituals, poems, writings, songs, etc that people may wish to submit for inclusion
- with invitations to collaborate on the church by-laws and constitution
- with elections that I literally beg people to run in and vote in
Yet it seems that much of this is not taken as being in good faith, and I think this is partially because of how aspects of my personality come across.
I know I have a strong personality, as has been mentioned before. I know that at my worst, “strong” is a euphemism for “aggressive and overbearing.” But I am not loud and forceful because I want to crush people down and make them meek and quiet. I am loud and forceful because I want loud, forceful friends. I was raised by a huge, Southern, lapsed Catholic father who argued with me like I was an adult man back when I was still a tiny alleged girl of about four years old. I learned to meet his fire with fire fearlessly because no matter how loud we yelled at at each other, at the end I always knew my dad would smile at me and say “we butt heads like this because we are so alike. I love you.” Now, that’s not how most relationships work. I’ve learned that the hard way. And yet, in spite of decades of evidence to the contrary, at my core I still expect my strength to be met with strength.
I will be real with you. I am getting burned out. I envisioned starting this church and having it grow into a self-governing community that needs no leaders. I had hoped to make myself obsolete as a pastor. In the last couple of years, I have become very stressed, sad, tired and lonely in my life because too many of the people I know seem to be looking up to me and placing me above them, leading me to feel as if I have no peers– this in spite of the fact that I fundamentally believe that all of you are my peers.
I want comrades and co-collaborators and co-conspirators, not followers. I do not believe any of you are followers by nature. You’re Satanists. You’re walkers of the left hand path. You are here, or so I believe, because you dislike authority and seek empowerment; because you are curious and desire knowledge; because you don’t want to be told what to think or what to do.
I desperately want to change the culture in this church. I don’t want to be at the top of it anymore. But I can’t do that alone. I need your help. Obviously I can’t do your self-governing for you. You have to do that. That’s the point.
I have to confess that if the culture of this church doesn’t change, if it doesn’t end up living up to the values and vision with which I co-founded it, I will most likely burn out in another year, and step down as pastor. In that case, very likely nobody else will feel empowered to step up, and the online branch of CotMS will end.
I am not trying to threaten you. But if you want this church, you have to make this church, and make it the church you want. I am not being paid anything for this, and I don’t want to keep making a church for people who appear to passively consume it with what seems to me to be diminishing enthusiasm.
It is still my calling to be a priest of Satan, no matter what happens, but if we can’t make this church a church for us all, rather than just the Vix and Johnny Show, I will need to pursue that dream in a different form.
You have the power. This can be what you want it to be. Vix and I are just making it up as we go along, after all. Yeah I went to seminary, but most of what it got me was just student debt. I went half for the skills and half for the credentials, so that non-Satanists would be forced to take us a bit more seriously. And Vix? I know he intimidates you with his intellect, but his highest attainment of formal education was fucking beauty school. He just reads a lot. We don’t really have anything you don’t have.
So today’s message is: you can just do things. That’s what we do. We just do things, and then for some reason everyone thinks we know what we’re doing. You can too. You can just decide to hold a ritual or event. You can start a reading group. You can hop in the voice chat and start a lively debate. You can write a poem, a prayer, an article, a hymn, and submit it to be put on the church blog or in the church book. You can lead a segment of mass. You’re allowed. You have permission.
But at some point, when you have the time and bandwidth to think hard about hard things, I do hope you will ask yourselves this question: why did I need so much permission?


