The Asperger
Recently, someone remarked to me that she thought that, sometimes, people used the rarity of an ingredient in a historical spell as an excuse not to use that spell. I think she's right. But if you do want to work a spell with a difficult-to-find component—like lion's skin or lark's brains—you can learn from a plant like hyssop that it's quite possible to make viable substitutions. Practitioners of magic have been doing this for millennia. In fact, the Greek Magical Papyri contains a list of substitutions of herbs for animal bits (PGM XII:401–404).
A large number of books on magical herbalism refer to the mention of hyssop in Psalm 51:7 as justification for its use in magical purification—“Purge me with hyssop till I am pure; wash me till I am whiter than snow.” This reference, in turn, points to a purification ritual described in an earlier biblical book, the Ritual of the Red Heifer found in Numbers 19:2–19. This ritual is the true origin of using hyssop as an asperger in magic, since it actually describes asperging, the practice of sprinkling a congregation, space, or objects with a purifying liquid to cleanse it of evil spirits or negative influences. Other mentions of hyssop in the Hebrew Bible do not. It also gives some interesting clues about the identity of the hyssop used.
The Ritual of the Red Heifer describes how scarlet wool, cedar, and “hyssop” are burned with the ashes of a red heifer (a female animal, and thus more identified with blood in the Bible). The ashes are added to spring water and a hyssop branch is dipped into it. This water is then sprinkled on people or objects to purify them. This may be a priest or another person, their belongings, or their home—anything that has been rendered impure by coming into contact with a corpse, a grave, or human bones.
With the exception of the hyssop, all of the items in this ritual have the color red in common. It makes sense in this context, then, that the herb mentioned should be hot or at least warm, and perhaps have red flowers. But the hyssop familiar to most of us, which I will call “our hyssop”—Hyssopus officinalis—is camphorous, or cold. Its default flower color is a cool blue. So perhaps “common blew-flowered Hyssope” is not the hyssop that is referenced in the Bible.
In fact, historically speaking, our hyssop doesn't grow in the Middle East, which excludes it as an ingredient in the Red Heifer ritual or any other biblical use. The hyssop in the Hebrew Bible is Origanum syriacum, which I will call “biblical hyssop”; it is still used today as the primary ingredient in a Middle Eastern spice blend called za'atar. Biblical hyssop has pink flowers, an oregano-like taste, and a warm scent. Even the leaves are different from those of our hyssop. They're fuzzy, an advantage in low-moisture environments, because the fuzz helps the plant hold onto what little water is available in its surroundings, especially dew. Biblical hyssop thus fits perfectly with the rest of the warm, red ingredients of the Red Heifer ritual.
So, if we are justifying the use of hyssop as an asperger in magic based on its use in the Bible, we are using the wrong hyssop. Does this mean that, during all those centuries when European witches and mages used our hyssop (Hyssopus officinalis) for aspergers, nothing was actually purified, because they were doing it wrong?
On the contrary. We know from practice that our hyssop does indeed purify on the material plane, in the same manner as biblical hyssop.10 Europeans used our hyssop materially and spiritually in ways similar to biblical hyssop—for instance, as a purifying medicinal herb for driving disease from the lungs. Like a number of other plants in the mint family, our hyssop has a strong Air nature and has been used for respiratory cleansing. In 16th-century England, our hyssop was strewn on floors that were difficult to keep clean—for instance, those made of dirt or uneven brick. This use continued in Colonial America.
Whenever a plant is helpful for purifying or driving out pests and pestilence on the material plane, it's likely that it will also be useful to purify and drive out spiritual pests. We see this with Hyssopus officinalis. For instance, our hyssop repels envy, just as it repels fleas and disease germs. In fact, volume 8 of John Baptist Porta's 17th-century book on natural magic cites hyssop as helpful in turning away the “witchcraft of envy.” It was a part of 17th-century protection charms in England and, in Wales, bunches of hyssop were hung on the inside of school doors to protect the children from charms. The herb was placed in coffins, along with rue and wormwood, as a symbol of repentance in England, probably based on the reference in the psalm.
Our hyssop (Hyssopus officinalis) was used to get rid of noxious spirits and to purify an area of their verminous infectiousness. We can see that a body of practice involving various sorts of purification on the material plane was built up around our hyssop, much as a body of purification practice was built up around biblical hyssop (Origanum syriacum). To use our hyssop in place of biblical hyssop is, therefore, not a simple substitution based on name alone or on a hunch or even on personal gnosis. The different characteristics of these two plants show that a substitution in magic can bring in almost the complete opposite energy of the original ritual ingredient—which is fine, as long as there is a similarity in how it works on the material plane (and, by extension, on the spiritual plane), and there is support for its ritual use by the community. Hyssop is thus a good example of how magical substitutions can be made, even for ancient magic, and still be very effective. This example should give us the confidence to make substitutions ourselves when necessary.
Something to consider with purification is that it can come either through warmth or through cooling. Both our hyssop and biblical hyssop are aromatics that drive out germs and bugs. One is warm; the other is cooling. But both work to purify. So we can conclude that no single elemental quality holds the patent on purification. It can come through any of them, thus further opening up the possibilities for substitutions.
Contrast the substitution of our hyssop for biblical hyssop with the common substitution of American mandrake (Podophyllum peltatum) for European mandrake (Mandragora officinarum). Like biblical hyssop and our hyssop, these two plants have the same common name. And, like them, they aren't in any way related. While this substitution does have community support, the working actions of American mandrake and European mandrake are not at all the same (see chapter 1).
European mandrake root is a deliriant and hypnotic, like its relatives henbane, belladonna, and datura. Historically, it's been used as a sedative, an anesthetic, and even as a painkiller. By contrast, American mandrake root is a purgative and cathartic, causing violent vomiting and diarrhea. Since inducing purgatives were once considered generally beneficial in American botanical medicine, American mandrake root had a minor place in the formulary. But it was never used for fertility, painkilling, sedation, or anesthesia, as European mandrake was. In other words, these two plants have never had similar material uses.
Oops! No Tea for Me 
Some years ago, a customer of mine bought some American mandrake root and then called to ask how much she should use in a fertility tea. I said: “None!” and explained that, if she did, she could end up in the emergency room for dehydration from severe diarrhea. She claimed she had been advised by a local “herbalist” to drink a tea made with mandrake to help her get pregnant. I explained the difference and advised her to let this “herbalist” know how wrong she was. In the United States, herbalists are not credentialed by any independent entity, so some end up prescribing a violent purgative for infertility. Perhaps those who do should be given of a dose of their own medicine!
The true similarity between American and European mandrake—and what won American mandrake its name—does not reside in the roots (the most important part of European mandrake from a magical perspective) but in the fruit. Both plants bear small, golden, fragrant, tasty “apples” that are not toxic. Substituting American mandrake root for European mandrake root in magic is pointless, because there is no parallel between the roots and their actions on the material plane. However, if you are making a fertility charm and don't have access to ripe European mandrake fruits—which are a good choice for historical reasons and are still used in this way in the Middle East—ripe American mandrake fruits are an excellent substitute. On the material level, the ripe fruits of American and European mandrake are similar in that they contain small amounts of active ingredients and can be eaten safely. Both their appearance and their physical action are similar, so they can be substitutes in magic.
Clearly, in order for a magical substitution to work well, a mere similarity in name—European mandrake root and American mandrake root—is insufficient. Some similarity on the material level, whether in appearance or activity, has to exist for the substitution to be considered. Moreover, the material action should be supported by some kind of communal, cultural use of the herb in question. Our hyssop works as a substitution for the hyssop of the Bible because of the similarity in material actions, and because of its acceptance in magical practice built up by communities.
Hyssop entered into magical practice in the West because of its imagined biblical connection. But it proved to be helpful enough in practice that its use continued in spite of that connection in later times. Today, when the Bible no longer has a strong hold on Western imaginations and when it is no longer imposed on people—when, in fact, many in the magical community have a strong dislike for all biblical references—our hyssop is still used.
Solomonic magic bases the practice of asperging on the biblical reputation of hyssop, but extends it to include other familiar cleansing plants, which further supports the concept of logical substitutions in magic. Thus aspergers are made from hyssop, vervain, fennel, lavender, sage, valerian, mint, basil, and rosemary bound to a hazel branch by a thread spun by a maiden. Many of these same herbs are ingredients in absinthe (or Pernod or Chartreuse), of which hyssop is an ingredient.
How to Make a Hyssop Asperger
To make an asperger from fresh hyssop, simply cut a small handful of the aerial parts of the plant (best when it is in flower) and tie them together with a cord of your choosing. Embroidery thread makes a nice choice, since it comes in a wide array of colors in small amounts and is readily available at craft and sewing stores.
In my experience, all cleansing plants are aromatic—and not necessarily sweetly so. They usually have an herbal, rather than a flowery, scent. Most purifiers in Western culture have a somewhat camphorous nature. Aromatic herbs that are purifying on the material level—antiseptic, antifungal, antiviral, or antivermin—can typically be counted on to be purifying on the magical level as well, as we can see from the list of Solomonic asperger ingredients.
Our hyssop is not all cool Air, however. It is also warming and slightly stimulating. Its scent raises blood pressure, causes sweating, and lowers the seizure threshold by increasing the electrical activity in the brain. I think its relatively gentle warming quality is why Culpeper deems it an herb of Jupiter. In other ways, our hyssop has no Jupiter aspects. It's not tall or bold; its fruits are not nourishing; and it doesn't have yellow flowers. However, its medicinal action (and perhaps what was considered its connection to biblical lore) gives it enough Jupiter influence to satisfy Culpeper. To my mind, our hyssop's slight warming property also makes a neat occult connection to the outright warming of biblical hyssop.
Warning: The essential oil of our hyssop contains a high proportion of chemicals known to lower the seizure threshold in humans and other animals. For most people, this is not an issue, but for those who suffer from seizure disorders, it can be dangerous. Be careful, because you may not even know that you have such a disorder. Moreover, these effects don't have to develop into full-blown seizures to be an issue. I've had the experience of working carelessly with camphor, which is contained in hyssop and has similar chemical components, and it was very unpleasant—a horrible jittery, shaky, cold feeling, with tremors that lasted for hours. The essential oil of Hyssopus decumbens, however, does not contain the camphorous element that is dangerous.
By contrast, Agrippa considers our hyssop to be a Moon herb. As the coolness of its scent is so lunar, this makes sense, even though the plant bears no watery fruit and does not especially enjoy growing near water—both considered qualities of Moon plants. In fact, our hyssop likes a dry growing environment. The dryness preferred by this mint (a plant family that usually likes lots of water) is reflected in the combination of scents in hyssop's fragrance and taste—like a mixture of cool mint and warm sage.
Camphor, which is strongly present in hyssop flowers, has a reputation for being antisexual or anaphrodisic. Nonetheless, hyssop is often implemented in binding love magic. An example is described in Fernando de Rojas's 15th-century novel, La Celestina, which describes a charm used by Saint Martha, who famously bound a dragon that was menacing the town of Talarçon:
To the mount of Talarçon you went and beheld the live serpent;
With your hyssop of water you sprinkled it and with your holy girdle you bound it and delivered it to the people.
Just so, deliver my love to me, and if he loves me not, let him love no one else.
There's plenty of phallic binding here, even though this charm was cast by a woman over a man. Its binding nature and all-or-nothing attitude seem to have characterized love magic in the past just as in the present. In his study of medieval magic, Forbidden Rites, Richard Kieckhefer regards this type of magic as responsible for medieval society's “aversion” to magic on account of its coerciveness—a connection relevant in post-modern society as well. The driving out of the noxious serpent and its binding through hyssop is very akin to purification (which drives out) and, in this spell, to the “purity” of loving no one at all should the spell fail. The coolness of hyssop is utilized to freeze the target. We see here the dark side of purification and hyssop's double-edged power.
Like other magical operations, purification can protect or mutilate, cure or cripple. It is a question of perspective and degree. I am sure we have all known folks who engaged in purification to the extent that they were almost imprisoned (bound) by it and it became, for them, a destructive force. There's an unsuspected ambivalence to purification—and to hyssop—that has something in common with the ambivalence of magic itself, which can help or hinder.
In magic, the decision must often be made to do one thing or another, and to recognize that, often, either choice will involve the other as well. Surely gardening teaches this. After all, the difference between a witch's garden and the wild is that the garden is a place of intention, of choosing—not only which plants will grow but also which will be discouraged or even destroyed. Things don't just happen there, as they do in the wild. Instead, witches work in the garden to bring about certain results and not others, guiding the garden's energy just as they guide other magical workings by creating conditions that encourage particular results. It's about acknowledging your will and putting it into action rather than just waiting around to see what turns up. Just as the garden is a place of both nurturing and destroying, purification can be used to drive out the bad, or to bind and freeze.
The double-edged sword of magic scares a lot of people, including many witches. But it is quintessential to witchcraft. We can see this ambiguity in all the plants that are described in this book, which work for good and for ill on both the material and spiritual planes. It is not all one or all the other. Even a rose has its thorns.
The positive and negative aspects of purification reflected in our hyssop (Hyssopus officinalis) are also demonstrated in a tendency I often meet among magic workers today to prefer hyssop essential oil over hyssop tincture or hyssop hydrosol, or even a bundle of fresh hyssop from their own gardens. I am frequently told that hyssop essential oil, especially if used straight on the skin, is magically “better” or more authentic than other forms of hyssop. However, hyssop essential oil is not especially “authentic.” For one thing, our hyssop's essential oil is not the same as that of biblical hyssop. Moreover, hyssop essential oil reveals the negative side of purification.
Remember that an essential oil is a highly modified version of the plant, as heat and water are normally applied to extract essential oils during distillation. This means that some components of the plant are destroyed and new ones created. I have encountered people who have mocked my concern about what I consider the careless use of essential oils, saying things like: “It's just an herb.” An essential oil is not just an herb. It's a modified, highly concentrated extract of some of an herb's components. Its strength and uniqueness should be respected.
Hyssop essential oil is at least one hundred times more concentrated than the fresh herb, and it is in a form that penetrates the body very quickly, in a way that the herb itself or less concentrated extractions do not. As an experiment to demonstrate this, mix up a few drops of essential oil in some carrier, like olive oil, and rub it on the bare souls of your feet. It will take only seven seconds for you to breathe out its scent.
People have experienced severe convulsions from using the essential oil of our hyssop, but there has never been a report of this happening from using the whole herb or its tinctures in sensible moderation.11 Essential oils are wonderful for making scented magical items. They are nicely compact and readily available. They're safer and more magical than synthetic fragrance oils. But you must be wise and informed about their use.
There are several other ways to take advantage of our hyssop's purifying powers. An asperging liquid can expel negative spirits and ghosts, or help keep out unwanted people. You can put it in a spray bottle or use it as a floor wash. Herbed vinegars have been used for centuries in Europe to protect from various negative influences like miasma, fleas in living spaces (not on animals), and germs. Herbs with high amounts of camphorous scent like hyssop or rosemary, as well as garlic, are especially effective—for instance, as used in the famous Four Thieves' vinegar.
Here is a recipe for a purifying vinegar based on a 19th-century recipe. This vinegar should not be ingested or put on animals or children, largely because of the essential oils it contains.
1 oz dried rue
1 oz dried or fresh hyssop (fresh is better, focus on the flowering tops)
1 oz dried or fresh vervain (fresh is better)
16 oz red wine vinegar
Quart jar with a tight-fitting lid
Fresh hyssop asperger (bundle of hyssop tops)
Warning: Do not put this vinegar on animals or children. And be sure to wear gloves when garbling the rue. Never garble it in the sun and avoid touching your eyes.
Since herbs in the mint family, like hyssop, generally smell quite bad when burned, they are not good candidates for incense. However, it's possible to have your hyssop and a fragrant incense, too. Just tincture the herb, then dress the other dry incense ingredients with the tincture. Dry the mixture until it is barely moist, then use. This can be done to add any herb to an incense. Here's an example.
Fresh hyssop
A fortified red wine, like port or Fortissimo
Cedar chips
A bit of red wool yarn (synthetics smell bad when burned)
Glass or ceramic jar
Ceramic knife
Like many plants, hyssop responds to the stresses of strong sunlight and dryness by producing more protective aromatics. Hyssop that grows in moist rich soil or in shade will not be as highly scented as hyssop that grows in drier, sunny conditions. So if you are interested in the highest amount of aromatics in your hyssop, consider the site when you are transplanting. Hyssop is a nice addition to medieval or cottage gardens, but also grows well in rock gardens, which are closer to its native Mediterranean habitat.
Since hyssop helps to keep some pestiferous bugs away, like aphids and cabbage moths—it's that purifying thing again—it's a good candidate for the border of a vegetable garden, especially a cruciferous one. Other plants that produce more alkaloids in similar conditions, like belladonna, will be much more potent, since the increased alkaloids serve the same function for the plant as increased essential oils. They keep off predators—at least the buggy kind—and, conversely, attract humans who will save their seeds and reproduce them.
The best time to harvest hyssop tops is in the morning when the dew has dried off. Choose a time when the moon is waxing and the flowers are just forming, typically around Midsummer for this plant. Harvest the stems just before the flowers open if you want them to open after harvest and last longer in your bouquet. Harvest on the Full Moon for maximum energy.
Because its camphorous aspect is fairly strong, hyssop is one of those herbs that can be gathered in bunches, tied loosely together, and dried by hanging upside down in a warmish place that has good ventilation to carry off the plant's moisture (not in the kitchen with all the food vapors). When the herb is dry, garble it and store the leaves and flowers in a dark container. Reserve the stalks for crafting powders or incense.
Our hyssop is perennial throughout the temperate zones of North America (zones 3–9). It gets eighteen to twenty-four inches (60 cm) high and forms a small shrubby plant that's very nice for the borders of paths, where its fragrance can be released by brushing against it. The default color of the flowers is a violet blue, but some plants will naturally produce pink or white flowers. Hyssop varieties have been developed that are dependably pink or white.
Bees and hummingbirds love the tiny blooms of hyssop, which appear in mid-summer. It's a great plant for containers and window boxes, and can even be pruned into mounds. It doesn't expand much. It does some self-seeding, but maxes out at about an arm's length in width. It does not send out underground runners like some perennials do, which is why it can be grown in pots. You can divide it in the spring if you want more plants.
Hyssop seeds germinate well using the baggie method (see chapter 2). Or you can start the seeds more traditionally by just barely covering them with seed-starting mix. To get seedlings ready to set out when it's sufficiently warm, start them ten weeks before the last frost in your area. They take three to four weeks to germinate at room temperature, showing the typical perennial germination slowness, especially compared to annuals, which usually germinate in just a week or two. Transplant to sunny, dry areas. I have my hyssop in a semishaded, dry perennial bed, and it has proven its toughness, blooming nicely every year with no attention at all.