Strange Magic at the Rosicrucian Egyptian Museum
one of my hometown's weirdest tourist attractions
Happy Tuesday, friends!
I just blasted through my year-end subscriber goal two months ahead of schedule. The fact that 200 people (199 of whom are not my mom!) read this newsletter puts a huge smile on my face. Thank you so much for being here.
Last week, I asked you for your thoughts on literal and metaphorical detours. For Skye, who writes A Bit Much, that prompted thoughts of exploratory runs where she allows herself to wander wherever the wind takes her and takes stock of what’s on her mind. I think I might have to try some wandering of my own this week, and see what fuzzy thoughts it brings into focus.
Continuing the theme of detours, today we’re going traveling in my hometown—San Jose, California, where I’ve just wrapped up a visit after missing my friend’s wedding. I’m taking you to San Jose’s Rosicrucian Egyptian Museum, a mash-up of my childhood home and current home-away-from-home.
In my early 30s, I’m noticing wonderful, unique things about San Jose that never struck me as interesting while I was growing up because I had nothing to compare them to. Have you ever returned to a place after a long time away and found you saw it in a different light?
Looking forward to your thoughts in the comments!
-Sam
To get to San Jose’s Rosicrucian Egyptian Museum, you first have to walk through the gardens of Rosicrucian Park. Little enclaves pepper the grounds, housing obelisks, fish ponds, a statue of Pythagoras. Everywhere you look are barely hidden occult and religious symbols—cartouches stamped in the pavement, triangle-shaped planter boxes, crosses and hexagrams in the mosaic on the fountain.
Just off the courtyard is a little pharaonic shrine with a shin-height pyramid in the middle. It’s inaccessible due to the bushes that surround it, but if you crane your neck, you can see that the pyramid marks the resting place of an “H. Spencer Lewis, Imperator.”
This was one of the first places I wanted to go after flying in to San Jose, where I was born and raised, to visit my mom. We thought it would be fun to compare the artifacts in our little local museum to what I’ve seen in Egypt. The museum building is modeled after the temples of ancient Thebes, with huge columns painted bright white and blue and a row of ram-headed sphinxes lining the path to the door. Just behind the ticketing desk is a plexiglass display case of pamphlets and official-looking documents, all bearing the emblems of a mysterious organization that has been headquartered here since 1927: the Rosicrucian Order, AMORC (Ancient Mystical Order Rosae Crucis), which H. Spencer Lewis founded.
When I visited this museum as a child, it didn’t occur to me to question why the museum was called “the Rosicrucian.” But I was now returning as a far more skeptical adult and had a burning desire to figure out who these people are. I planned to comb the museum for clues.
a mysterious, mystical menagerie
As we stopped at the front desk to buy our tickets, my mom asked the docent, a young girl with a kind face and short curly hair, which of the artifacts we were about to see were authentic and which were reproductions. The docent said something to the effect of “everything behind glass is real. Most of the statues are reproductions except Cleopatra and Sekhmet”—the Sekhmet statue being the first piece the museum acquired in the early 1920s. Since then, the collection has grown to include two mummies (one of which the museum purchased from a Neiman Marcus Christmas catalogue in the 1970s), a replica of a real tomb, and 2,000+ other items from each of ancient Egypt’s historical periods.
The soothing voice of Julie Scott—museum director and a Grand Master of the Rosicrucian Order—kicked off the audio tour by introducing the museum’s sponsors:
Rosicrucians are men and women around the world who study natural laws in order to live in harmony with them. As students progress in their studies, they are initiated into the next level or degree. Some of the subjects studied include meditation, self-healing techniques, developing intuition, the nature of the soul, alchemy and classical philosophy.
That sounded harmless, if a little woo-woo. (Put a pin in the “alchemy” part—we’ll come back to that.) Still, the statement piqued my interest, because it offered little about the Rosicrucian’s beliefs and even less about their interest in ancient Egypt. Why had they gone to the trouble of founding this museum? I made a mental note to look out for more information as we moved on to the exhibits.
The galleries were a tad dilapidated, a little chintzy and theatrical. The artifacts rested on yellowed fabric backings. I could have sworn the ominous music playing outside the recreated tomb was from the soundtrack to The Mummy. A golden mask from the Ptolemaic period bore an unmistakable likeness to the cartoon character Doug, and dioramas showing scenes of daily life in ancient Egypt looked almost like stills from Antony and Cleopatra. A scale model of Hatshepsut’s mortuary temple, which I recently visited in person, was missing an entire terrace compared to the genuine article.
Something felt off to me. But I didn’t spot any factual inaccuracies—everything jived with what I’d heard from tour guides, historians, and archaeologists in Egypt. I wondered if perhaps the artifacts looked strange to me because they came from a different period or region compared to what I was used to seeing, so I decided to ask the docent where the artifacts had come from and how they’d ended up in San Jose. She told me H. Spencer Lewis was an enthusiast who had founded the museum in 1929, and that some things had been donated. It was an unsatisfying answer, but she was a docent, not an encyclopedia. I resolved to look into it when we got home.
After finishing the main galleries, we reached the top floor and walked into a puzzling non sequitur: a wall with big white letters that read “ALCHEMY.” I recalled the statement at the beginning of the tour about Rosicrucians’ interest in alchemy, which I knew to be a mystical, pseudo-scientific practice that has essentially nothing to do with ancient Egypt. I stepped inside. The exhibit laid out each step of the alchemic process in depth, and alleged that the text of the Emerald Tablet—believed to contain the key to creating the philosopher’s stone, a mythical elixir of life that can turn lesser metals into gold—originated in Alexandria. (The tablet itself has never been found, and it is unclear whether it ever existed.)
My original questions remained unanswered as we finished our visit. The alchemy exhibit had only raised more. So: what in the world is the Rosicrucian Order? Is it a religion, a cult? So far we know that they are very interested in both alchemy and ancient Egypt, but what do they actually believe? What is the connection to ancient Egypt, and how did these artifacts get into their museum?
an obscure, occultist organization
As soon as we got home, I set to researching what Rosicrucianism really is. I started in the most obvious place: the Order’s website.
The materials on the main pages didn’t tell me much more than I’d learned at the museum. I mostly found dry organizational history and a couple harebrained testimonials, to whit:1
The Rosicrucian Order, AMORC has provided a bridge for me into a dimension of life that I had inwardly and innately longed for but could not find in all of my scientific and religious searches. Within the teachings, I have found an understanding of all the so-called mysteries of life, bringing me inner peace and contentment and giving me a higher appreciation of science and religion.
An understanding of all the so-called mysteries of life? If we could all be so lucky! Between the “degrees” of study mentioned at the beginning of the tour, the obsession with reaching unspecified higher planes of existence, and the overall secrecy, the Rosicrucian Order was starting to sound more and more like the glorified pyramid scheme that is the Church of Scientology. Yet there seemed to be nothing untoward about the Rosicrucian Order. Their membership fees are affordable at $150 per year. The educational materials are free. Rosicrucian “neophytes” study in their own homes and at their leisure.
So if their motivations aren’t financial, what are they? I needed to go deeper to find out, so I signed up for their mailing list. In return I received a copy of Mastery of Life, the Rosicrucians’ introductory booklet. Its cover bears an illustration of an ancient Egyptian temple etched with hieroglyphics and with a bright light bursting through the gate.
First, Mastery of Life walks through the various lessons that neophytes are required to study. They cover a broad variety of topics from the philosophical (“Good and Evil and Free Will”) to the spiritual (“Reincarnation of the Soul”) to the fantastical (“Telepathy, Telekinesis, and Vibroturgy”). It took me another 12 pages to find a connection to ancient Egypt—and this is where things get downright strange:2
Contrary to what many historians believe, our tradition relates that the Giza pyramids were not built to be the tombs of pharaohs, but were actually places of study and mystical initiation.
Recall that the director of the museum is a Rosicrucian grand master who presumably shares this belief. I’ve heard a lot of hogwash about the pyramids in my time—from crackpot claims that aliens built them to Ben Carson’s eccentric babble about how they must have been granaries—but never from within the field of egyptology.
The next paragraph clarifies the Rosicrucians’ interest in ancient Egypt. They claim the pharaohs Thutmose III and Akhenaton (the latter of whom was widely thought to be a heretic in his time) as their intellectual fathers:
Pharaoh Thutmose III, who ruled Egypt from 1500 to 1447 BCE, organized the first esoteric school of initiates founded upon principles and methods similar to those perpetuated today by the Rosicrucian Order, AMORC. Decades later Pharaoh Amenhotep IV was initiated into the secret school. This most enlightened pharaoh—history’s first monotheist—was so inspired by the mystery teachings that he gave a completely new direction to Egypt’s religion and philosophy. He established a religion which recognized the Aton, the solar disk, as being the symbol of the sole deity—the foundation of life itself, the symbol of Light, Truth, and Joy—and changed his name to Akhenaton to reflect these new ideas. And although the earlier religion was later reestablished, the mystical idea was put forth in human consciousness, and its flame never died.
This told me why the Rosicrucians might want to dedicate a museum to ancient Egypt, but it still didn’t tell me how the artifacts made it to San Jose. The museum docent said much of the collection was donated, but when and by whom?
The search for an answer lead me to far more peculiar discoveries.
Remember H. Spencer Lewis, the guy who founded the Order and who is buried in Rosicrucian Park? He published a monthly journal called the Mystic Triangle in the late 1920s, around the same time the museum opened. I thought perhaps the archived issues on rosicrucian.org would contain a clue. Bingo—I found reports of a grand tour of Egypt in the journals from February through September 1929.
In one of the dispatches, the trip secretary talks about visiting the ruins of Akhenaton’s capital city, and tells us about the museum’s acquisitions:3
We presume that all of our members know that our past Grand Master [Akhenaton] abandoned the palaces and royal homes at Thebes and as a further step in the establishment of the first monotheistic religion in the world, directed the building up of a new royal city in the foothills of Tel-el-Amarna […] Some years ago the AMORC contributed largely to the cost of excavations in this city, and in fact financed the reopening and continuance of the excavations there for the purpose of securing further facts regarding the original teachings of the mystics of Egypt. As a result of these excavations, many wonderful relics were sent direct from the excavations to the AMORC Headquarters in California, and are now a part of the rare collection in the oriental museum in San Jose owned by the AMORC.
So while the excavation of Amarna was no doubt a great contribution to the field of egyptology, the Rosicrucians weren’t involved for purely academic reasons. They wanted to better understand the ancient Egyptian occult and investigate their own intellectual heritage, which they trace to Amarna.
That’s already surprising, but it’s about to get way weirder than I could possibly have imagined when I started down this rabbit hole. The trip secretary wrote several accounts of secret ceremonies the Rosicrucians performed at historical sites all over Egypt, including initiations in the Great Pyramid. Here’s a vivid recap of one such ritual in Luxor Temple:4
We were not surprised to see the appearance, personality, and even physical aspect of the Imperator [H. Spencer Lewis] gradually change and assume the likeness and mannerism of one of the ancient Masters; and then it was that we of the higher grades knew instantly why the Imperator was so familiar with ancient Egyptian history, the rituals, the customs, and the work of this great organization. […] During this time, the Imperator stood with bowed head in the center of the sanctum in the East, while his aura developed and shot forth beams and flames of light and his stature increased and his personality changed a number of times, so that we had a fine opportunity to see him in the various incarnations through which he has passed.
So, to recap: San Jose’s Egyptian museum is sponsored by a secretive, mystical order with bogus ideas about the pyramids, who acquired artifacts by funding an expedition that they hoped would reveal information about ancient Egyptian magic, and who perform rituals in ancient temples during which they have claimed to witness their spiritual leader change physical form multiple times.
The Order was still running similar pilgrimage trips as recently as last year. Check out this itinerary, which includes an “Initiation in the Great Pyramid.” Oh, and I almost forgot—per their literature, they appear convinced of the existence of the philosopher’s stone,5 and hope to open an alchemy museum in San Jose.6
To be fair to the Rosicrucians, I think their motivations are altruistic. They seem to genuinely want to help people find self-actualization. If studying alchemy and telepathy puts Rosicrucians at peace with themselves and the universe, I honestly think that’s great for them! I’m not here to denigrate anyone’s beliefs.
What I am here to do is question the validity of academic endeavors that have very non-academic motivations behind them. I had to dig deep to find those motivations, because the museum sponsors aren’t exactly upfront about what their underlying interests are. Visitors deserve to know what they are supporting, and I don’t think any museum can be considered trustworthy if it’s sponsored by people who outright reject well-established fact.
And yet…as I mentioned earlier, I didn’t spot any factual inaccuracies in the exhibits themselves. It’s strange and compelling that an enigmatic, mystical belief system inspired the museum, but it’s not necessarily scandalous. I’m not even going to tell you not to visit the Rosicrucian Egyptian Museum—I’m saying if you want to visit, do it with full knowledge of the context.
silicon valley’s strange magic
Still, there was one question that kept bothering me: why San Jose, of all places? How in the world did the Rosicrucian Order come to be headquartered just around the corner from my high school, and what has kept them there for nearly 100 years?
According to the Mystic Triangle, the reasons for their move were entirely practical. San Jose was close to San Francisco and Oakland, it was accessible to visitors thanks to the major highways and rail lines running through Santa Clara Valley, and the Order already owned the tract of land that is now Rosicrucian Park.
But I think there is something more to it. Rosicrucian occultism isn’t too far off from the utopian thinking of the tech bro. One contends all problems can be solved through ancient magic, while the other is certain innovation will be our savior. What they share is a belief that the realities of the human condition are escapable if only we try hard enough, meditate enough, study enough, become self-actualized enough. And there is plenty of overlap between mysticism and techno-utopianism—Silicon Valley icon Steve Jobs, who believed he could put a powerful computer in every pocket and that he could cure his cancer with a combination of dietary supplements and willpower, occupied the center of that Venn diagram.
There is a relentless optimism that abides here. Maybe it’s the 260 days of sunshine each year, or the intoxicating combination of mountains and ocean and full-bodied wine and creamy avocados, or the endless gravy train of investment dollars. Whatever the reason, this valley nurtures the magical thinking of Rosicrucians and innovators alike. Perhaps they feed off each other. After all, magic is just science yet to be explained.
elsewhere
If you’re looking for more great travel writing on Substack, check out Tom Fish’s recap of his visit to “Cold War Disneyland”—Berlin’s Checkpoint Charlie. [Not That You Asked]
This Friday is the 100th anniversary of the discovery of King Tut’s tomb! Here are 10 things to know about it. [National Geographic]
Coming home to California makes me crave classic Joan Didion essays. Holy Water is one of her best (and there is a weirdly hilarious comment at the bottom of the page). [PBS]
Apple cider is a rarity in Cairo, but as soon as I find it, it’s going into these apple cider caramels that I make every fall. [Smitten Kitchen]
happy as a golden retriever in horse poop
This is my mom’s golden, Annie. Annie is my favorite dog in the whole world. But Annie has a tragic flaw: she adores excrement. I’ve never seen her happier than when she dove into this pile of horse manure that she found on a trail walk. She was promptly yelled and dutifully got out of the poop, but not before she could sneak a taste. 🤮
Have a wonderful rest of your week!
This Rosicrucian digest examines “credible” accounts of its creation in depth.
What a connecting thread from Egypt proper, like every good story, to return "home", back to a mystery that was there all along, tucked into a sacro-historical theme park. A story told so well.
It's that time of the year, apples and apple cider, a nice way to end on a journey that leads back to founder of Apple, Inc (who was inspired by his time working in orchards, during his own wanderings.)
"and this is where things get downright strange..."
*makes mug of tea, cracks knuckles, settles in, grins widely.*