The Hierophant

V

The Hierophant... Papa Legba stands at the crossroads tonight.

Guardian of the gates, keeper of the keys. Look at him there, with his staff that opens pathways between worlds. The white beard of accumulated wisdom. The top hat and feathers marking him as a spirit who walks between ceremony and street magic.

Papa Legba is the first spirit called in any Voodoo ceremony, you know. Nothing begins without his permission. No loa can come through unless he opens the door. He is the translator between human and divine, understanding both languages perfectly.

See the gaslight burning in the background? Illumination in darkness. And the faithful dog at his side—loyalty, protection, a companion on journeys between worlds. Papa Legba walks with both the sacred and the humble.

When The Hierophant appears as Papa Legba, he speaks of tradition that lives and breathes, not dusty dogma locked in books. In New Orleans, we understand that faith is something you dance with, not just something you study. It moves through your body. It speaks through drums and bells.

There's a threshold before you now. A doorway you're being asked to pass through. But first, you must acknowledge the keeper of that door. The Hierophant asks for proper respect for what came before you, for the traditions that created the path you now walk upon.

Papa Legba doesn't just guard tradition—he makes it accessible. He translates the complex wisdom of the ancestors into lessons we can use today. He takes the sacred and brings it down to earth, where it can guide our steps on these cobblestone streets.

There's someone in your life playing this role—a teacher, a mentor, perhaps even an elder family member. Someone who holds keys you need. Or perhaps you yourself are being called to become this bridge for others, to take what you've learned and make it accessible, to stand at the crossroads and help others find their way.

In New Orleans, we know that all important meetings happen at crossroads—where different paths converge, where possibilities multiply. Papa Legba reminds us to honor these intersections, to leave offerings at these thresholds, to acknowledge that we need permission to cross between worlds.

What door are you waiting to have opened? What tradition calls to you, asking for your respect before it will share its secrets? What languages—between heart and mind, between past and future, between seen and unseen—need translation in your life?

Remember this: Papa Legba may test you before he turns the key. He may appear as a humble old man with a limp rather than in all his glory. The wisdom you seek might come disguised in simple clothing, speaking plain words. Will you recognize it when it comes?

Offer respect at the threshold. The door will open when you're ready to truly listen.