The Hierophant: Spiritual Authority, Questioning, and Reclaiming Your Truth
As I was writing the post about people who do real good but also offer real harm, I kept thinking about the Hierophant. In tarot, the Hierophant is often seen as a teacher of spiritual practices. The word itself has Greek roots, historically referring to priests who decoded scripture. But if you really want to understand the deeper implications of that, you’ll have to explore it on your own time. See, understanding the history of something—especially a spiritual practice—is essential to grasping what you're really signing up for.
When I arrived at a Pentecostal church with my uncle in my early 20s, I was desperate to reclaim what I thought I knew as community: Jesus, family, and stories steeped in trauma. Pentecostal, Assemblies of God, Non-Denominational—these denominations, and likely many others I’m not even aware of, have a very strict set of rules for their female parishioners. This was the kind of structure my childhood had left me craving. Knowing my expected role helped me perform Christianity, wifehood, (step)motherhood, and familial relations.
In these faiths, we are taught a few contradictory things: You are made perfect in God’s image, yet you are fully unworthy of redemption. It is through Jesus alone that you obtain salvation, but don’t smoke, drink, do drugs, engage in promiscuity or premarital cohabitation, wear makeup, or alter your appearance. Additionally, don’t rely on status symbols or wealth. I would later learn that Pentecostals are statistically the poorest and least educated among Christians. This factoid shaped my already-tense relationship with the church, which was activating my nervous system—though I had no language for that yet.
It’s designed to activate your nervous system. Let me let you in on a little secret: These high-control groups are also high-energy, high-emotion. For folks who were spoon-fed dysfunction, but still have an innate and unshakeable connection to spirituality, these spaces feel like home. They feel safe—despite the fact that they are often run by people pushing an agenda. The agenda?
Read Project 2025.
I left my husband and my church at the same time. I had already been considering leaving the church. My uncle had given me a Strong’s Concordance. I had already read the Bible from cover to cover. But I desired a deeper understanding of women and their place in the church. What I found was that the Apostle Paul hated women. That realization got me questioning everything—things I’d been told to shut up about as a child.
The questions started at: if we are not to alter our appearance in accordance to God’s will, why does Sister Assistant Pastor’s Wife dye her hair? (I never spoke that question out loud, but that same week Sister APW announced God had put it on her heart to stop dying her hair.) If I am to wear skirts that don’t show my knees, why does Brother Assistant Pastor wear shorts? Again, I never spoke this question, but God had put it on Brother AP’s heart to stop wearing shorts.
It was things like that that made leaving my faith a little harder - to me, it was undeniable that the spirit moved in that church. Just like I knew the spirit moved in my grandparents’ home growing up. It took me many many years to reconcile my spiritual connection with my understanding that the Church, God’s people, were not living his word, even if he was moving in these spaces.
(As a side note, the same spirit that I felt in those churches is the same spirit that I’ve felt walking in the woods amongst the trees, birds, and bees.)
Once I started questioning these things (and many others), the carefully crafted facade started to crack. When I was raising concerns about our church with my husband and his father one day, something in my husband shifted. He decided to start drinking again, something we hadn’t done for about 2 years by that point. It was one such night that he threatened to kill me and I made my escape - from him, and the church.
I was disheartened and disillusioned with faith, relationships, with power games, with everything but my family. Not that my family is some sanctuary, more that they are duty bound. Fully captured by the “Blood is thicker than water” quote and the understanding that the appearance of a family that sticks together will hide all sorts of sins. But I digress.
I can almost hear some of you already: “Mia. What does all of that have to do with the Hierophant? Let alone what’s going on in this country.”
Calm ya tit (just one, you can keep your other one wild). I’m getting there, our TikTok attention spans are killing the art of storytelling. Or maybe it’s just strengthening our oral storytelling, IDK, I’m still just a person.
The Hierophant represents spiritual leadership, a strong tie to tradition, and the gatekeepers that ‘protect’ those things. Now, these gatekeepers, they aren’t just hanging out in churches with their fancy robes, or in the places we’ve been taught to revere as ‘holy.’ They exist everywhere—especially in the places we’re told to trust without question. Family, government, society. These are the modern-day Hierophants. The ones who hold the keys to ‘right’ and ‘wrong,’ to ‘good’ and ‘evil,’ to ‘us’ and ‘them.’ But here’s the kicker—just like in the church, the rules don’t apply equally to everyone. You’ve got your elite few at the top who get to play by a different set of rules, while the rest of us are told to fall in line. To obey. To follow blindly.
This country, right now, is full of those so-called gatekeepers. The same ones that are pushing ‘tradition’ and ‘purity’ and acting like they’re the only ones who know how to protect us. And it’s not just about religion anymore—it’s about control. Political power. Social manipulation. The fear of not being ‘right,’ of being cast out for questioning those in charge. The agenda behind Project 2025? You can bet your ass it’s using the same playbook. They tell you what you can and can’t do, what you should believe, and if you ask too many questions? Well, you’re a ‘threat.’
Deconstructing religion, toxic relationship patterns, community and culture - or lack thereof - is crucial for recognizing when the energy of the Hierophant is self-serving instead of collective focused.
Something I struggled with, heavily, after leaving my church and my husband, and in short order - my whole extended family - was realizing that I was drawn to these spaces because I lacked a strong sense of community and culture. Without that proper grounding, I didn’t know where to turn.
When I told a friend of mine that I felt kind of like a sculptor that spent so long on a masterpiece only to decide when it was finished that I hated my work - I felt devastated. My friend, an author, quilter, community mother, and artist, told me that when she decided to scrap a project, all she felt was relief. This small conversation, this small perspective shift changed everything for me. Now, I got to begin again with the lessons I learned, with the understanding that I will never again allow someone else to shape my masterpiece.
From there on out, I didn’t know it at the time, but I would become my own Hierophant. I consumed as much information as I could about as many different modalities as I could. I absorbed what felt right, and left what didn’t. I gave myself grace when I would be corrected and told to do more research in an area. I gave myself space to carve a practice, all eclectic, while still honoring the traditions it came from. I practice Reiki, I have a deep appreciation for how that system of energy work came to us. I am studying yoga, and I am deeply committed to honoring its roots while practicing and maybe someday, teaching.
You, too, can and should be your own spiritual authority. You can and should question everything you’ve been spoon-fed. You can and should learn to identify the Hierophant, standing tall and alone with a lantern in the dark vs. a Hierophant that hides their light in order to further the illusions of the moon.
That’s the kicker, right? So many of us are fed illusions in the name of ‘tradition,’ ‘purity,’ or ‘truth.’ But if we’re being real here—if we’re honest about the larger picture—we’re often just serving someone else’s agenda. Someone else’s power.
This is how you reclaim your own truth: You question. You step back. You look at the system that’s been feeding you these narratives and decide—does it serve you? Does it serve the collective? Or does it serve the few at the top who’ve been pulling the strings all along?
I had to get brutally honest with myself about what I was walking away from. It wasn’t just the church, my marriage, or the family dynamics that had kept me stuck in a pattern of blind loyalty and obedience—it was a system of control. And those control mechanisms? They didn’t just exist in my faith community. They existed in my family, in my culture, in the broader society. I had been conditioned to think that everything had a ‘place’ and that I had to conform to it. But when I let myself step outside those boxes, I found that the whole damn world was a lot bigger than I had ever imagined.
The beauty of this work—the work of shedding illusions and breaking free from those who pretend to hold the keys—is that it’s an act of liberation. I became my own Hierophant, embracing what resonates deeply with me, and honoring traditions without clinging to them out of fear. It’s the work of creating a practice that aligns with your own values, your own truth, and your own rhythm. This is where your spiritual authority lies.
I’m here to walk with you in this. I can help you find your path, one that’s in harmony with yourself, nature, and the natural cycle of life. One that doesn’t require you to apologize for your truth. Where you don’t have to bend or break to fit into someone else’s idea of what’s ‘right.’ Where you question what’s been handed down to you and get to choose how you move forward—without shame, without guilt, without fear of being cast out.
Because the truth is this: The Hierophant can either lead you to your own liberation—or they can keep you trapped in a cage of illusions. You get to choose which one you’ll follow.
Standing under the light of the lamp,
Mia Marie
