Tonight’s guest on Wyrd Ways Radio is Hellenic Polytheist and Ares-worshiper Pete Helms. I don’t like any of the questions we’ve got prepared so you guys should call in with provocative and controversial things to discuss!
Here’s the number: 347-308-8222
Show starts at 10:00pm EST so think of something good, folks!
Skyles conceived a desire to be initiated into the rites of Dionysos Bakcheios; and when he was about to begin the sacred mysteries, he saw the greatest vision. He had in the city of the Borysthenites a spacious house, grand and costly (the same house I just mentioned), all surrounded by sphinxes and griffins worked in white marble; this house was struck by a thunderbolt. And though the house burnt to the ground, Skyles none the less performed the rite to the end. Now the Skythians reproach the Greeks for this Bacchic revelling, saying that it is not reasonable to set up a god who leads men to madness.
So when Skyles had been initiated into the Bacchic rite, some one of the Borysthenites scoffed at the Skythians, `You laugh at us, Skythians, because we play the Bacchant and the god possesses us; but now this deity has possessed your own king, so that he plays the Bacchant and is maddened by the god. If you will not believe me, follow me now and I will show him to you.’ The leading men among the Skythians followed him, and the Borysthenite brought them up secretly onto a tower; from which, when Skyles passed by with his company of worshipers, they saw him raving like a Bacchant; thinking it a great misfortune, they left the city and told the whole army what they had seen. After this Skyles rode off to his own place; but the Skythians rebelled against him. They put at their head Octamasadas, grandson (on the mother’s side) of Teres.
Then Skyles, when he learned the danger with which he was threatened, and the reason of the disturbance, made his escape to Thrake. Octamasadas, discovering whither he had fled, marched after him, and had reached the Ister when he was met by the forces of the Thrakians. The two armies were about to engage, but before they joined battle, Sitalkes sent a message to Octamasadas to this effect, ‘Why should there be trial of arms betwixt thee and me? Thou art my own sister’s son, and thou hast in thy keeping my brother. Surrender him into my hands, and I will give thy Skyles back to thee. So neither thou nor I will risk our armies.’ Sitalkes sent this message to Octamasadas, by a herald, and Octamasadas, with whom a brother of Sitalkes had formerly taken refuge, accepted the terms. He surrendered his own uncle to Sitalkes, and obtained in exchange his brother Skyles. Sitalkes took his brother with him and withdrew; but Octamasadas beheaded Skyles upon the spot. Thus rigidly do the Skythians maintain their own customs, and thus severely do they punish such as adopt foreign usages.
– Herodotos, The Histories 4.79
Although it’s my custom to make offerings on behalf of the community each Sunday, the group ritual we did for Dionysos and his dead on Saturday completely knocked me on my ass. (You know it’s a good rite when you go through four CASES of wine and the priest is still curled up around the toilet, dry heaving, several hours later.)
Galina and I did the offerings on behalf of the community together today since it’s the fourth of the lunar month and thus the day that is sacred to Hermes on my personal calendar. (You can read her account of it here.)
I should be back to my regular schedule this Sunday so if you have any petitions, prayers or other things you’d like put before the gods, send me an e-mail.
I had hoped that my next post would be a recap of the ritual for Dionysos and his dead that I helped lead for House Sankofa, but a matter of some urgency has come up and I’d like to address it before the situation gets worse.
After the nastiness of the pop culture paganism controversy a lot of us felt it was necessary to take a break from the toxic environment that the internet had become to get our moorings and refocus on things that truly matter such as honoring our gods and working to restore our ancient sundered traditions. Although I had every expectation that this period of rest would prove revitalizing for those who participated I was, quite frankly, blown away by how well it went for many of us. Here are just a selection of the accounts I saw trickling in in the weeks that followed:
Here, and Not Here.
I’m Back From Sabbatical.
Roaring Into Silence.
Mostly Untitled.
Rebirth in Silence.
What I’ve been up to.
As you guys may have noticed, I returned from the month of silence with a renewed drive to promote the cultus of the Dionysian Dead on the one hand and to help foster a strong, healthy and vital community for devotional polytheists. The key to this, I felt, was first determining what exactly it was people needed (which turned out to be more material on the basics of practice as well as real world contacts.) Secondly I felt that it was important to begin forging alliances and working partnerships across communal and other boundaries. A lot of folks are doing incredible work on behalf of their gods and spirits, often starting from scratch with minimal support and precious little in the way of resources. It takes a massive toll on them — physically, spiritually and financially — but it’s work that must be done, even with such seemingly insurmountable odds stacked against them.
But, I thought, what if these people didn’t have to do it alone? What if we came to each other’s assistance, what if we helped shoulder these harsh burdens collectively, what if we made an effort to extend a hand in kindness and generosity to strangers even if we have but little ourselves to give?
From these questions was born polytheism without borders, and I am so proud of how all of you have stepped up. In just a matter of weeks you guys have been able to accomplish some truly remarkable things. I am thinking in particular of the work that Pete Helms has done just since his appearance on Wyrd Ways Radio — though in truth I could point to dozens of other meritorious folks out there. You guys fucking rock my socks off.
What I didn’t consider is that there would be consequences for this.
I’ve got history. More than that I’m an abrasive, opinionated, misanthropic, all-around nasty prick. I don’t pull punches and I never learned how to play well with others. Truth is, I’ve made more enemies than you’ve got Facebook friends.
I should not be the one leading this initiative and the second someone better suited to this sort of work steps forward I’ll gladly go back to writing obscene Dadaesque poetry full of dense and incomprehensible allusions to obscure figures from antiquity. The way it should be.
Because any project or group that I’m involved with has got a massive liability — me.
When some people catch wind that I’m involved they run to get as far away as possible. And when some other people hear that I’m involved, they start taking notes and names. These people have learned that they can’t do shit to me. I own nothing, I have ties to nothing, I work where no one cares who I am or what I do as long as I’m prompt and act with minimal competency while on the clock. There’s no way to smear my reputation or insult me because I’ve put out there far worse and more indecent things about myself than even Nero could have dreamed up, some small portion of which may actually be true. As Kris Kristofferson once sang, freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.
And so instead they go after those who are close to me, people who do have things to lose. It angers and saddens me every time that it happens, and it happens every time I get involved with others — which is a big part of why I’ve spent the last couple years avoiding any kind of community involvement.
Although I hinted around this before, I should have made it damn clear when this started. I didn’t, and because of that a dear, sweet and pious woman is suffering the consequences.
Tess Dawson, I publicly and from the bottom of my heart apologize to you. You do not deserve any of this. Your service to your gods is far cleaner and purer than anything I will ever be capable of and yet by trying to use The House of Vines to promote your work I made you a target. I am sorry.
Let us be crystal clear that this is what’s going on.
Aine Llewellyn took offense at my comments during the pop culture pagan debacle and has nursed a grudge against me and those close to me ever since. And that’s why this attack on Tess Dawson was posted.
Go back through Aine’s Tumblr account and blog at Patheos over the last six months as I just did. Isn’t it curious how Aine never mentioned Tess Dawson, Canaanite polytheism, the situation in the Middle East or the plight of the Syrian people until I started attempting to boost the signal for her and now all of a sudden Aine is demonizing her and attempting to come off as a crusader for these causes?
Nor is Aine the only one.
Others have been even more explicit as to their motivations for jumping on the “bash Tess” bandwagon:
The rabbithole just keeps getting deeper. Maybe because she’s hanging out with certain other BNPs with toxic ideas and demeanors.
And:
Woooooow. I just find this so sad because I used to think it was so interesting what Tess was doing, but CLEARLY she has been drinking the same kool-aid as Some People. YEESH.
What I find particularly insidious about this is how they are attempting to spin things and besmirch her reputation.
For speaking eloquently and passionately about the pain of rejection and the centuries of violence and revilement that the indigenous gods of the Near and Middle East have endured, Tess is being portrayed as a self-aggrandizing demagogue, an opportunistic evangelist, a heartless bitch who cares nothing about the travails of oppressed peoples and worse she’s even being called an anti-Semite.
The irony of someone who reveres Semitic culture and Semitic deities being branded with such an ugly label would be terribly amusing if it wasn’t so serious. And it is serious because this form of race-based hatred is one of the nastiest and most virulent in our society, and we see the consequences of it every fucking day. It should have no place in our hearts and in our communities and those who espouse such ideas and especially those who act upon them should be treated as harshly as they would treat others.
Therefore you need to be extremely careful in throwing around this accusation. When you do so casually and without any justification you cheapen it, you dilute it, you strip away any stigma it naturally possesses.
Especially when you do it to score a point in an online debate.
Especially when you do it to shut your “opponent” up and make people hate them, stop listening to them, stop reasonably considering what they wrote.
I’ve studied the Greek masters of sophistry and rhetroric; I can see exactly what’s going on here.
When you use scary, emotionally-charged words like that it short-circuits the critical faculties. All you have to do is plant the seed in people’s head and they’ll see everything through that lens. They’ll sift through a mass of text looking for any little scrap, any ambiguous phrase that confirms, however vaguely, what they already expect and want to find, ignoring everything to the contrary.
Read Tess’ posts. You won’t find her calling people kikes and sand niggers. You won’t find her talking about her plans to torch a synagogue over the weekend or splatter pig’s blood on women in hijabs. You won’t find her saying that the region should be nuked until the desert is turned to glass. However much certain people want to make you think that you will.
Read Tess’ posts and you’ll see that she isn’t that sort of woman at all. She loves her gods and goddesses. She remembers what happened to them and their people. She believes that something valuable was lost and is in desperate need of restoration. And for that she’s being spit and shat upon.
None of which happened before her tentative and loose association with me.
That’s something you need to seriously consider, people.
There are people who hate me with a passion that would better be reserved for honoring their divinities and they are going to go after anyone who gets too close. This isn’t your fight, and there’s no reason for you to get drafted into it.
But you can be damned sure that I’m going to still be here working to revive the proper worship of my gods and all gods, no matter how much that offends certain people. I’m going to put everything I’ve got into creating a strong and vital community so that those who follow me won’t have to do this work. I’m not afraid of a fight and I’ve got nothing to lose.
So come for me all you want, people. Just leave the good ones alone.
It is said that when he was first brought to Rome to be sold, a serpent was seen coiled about his face as he slept, and his wife, who was of the same tribe as Spartacus, a prophetess, and subject to visitations of the Dionysiac frenzy, declared it the sign of a great and formidable power which would attend him to a fortunate issue. This woman shared in his escape and was then living with him.
– Plutarch, Life of Crassus 9.3
* This amazing woman’s name has not come down to us through history. I considered using one of the names given to her by writers of fiction, such as Varinia or Sura. But somehow it seemed more fitting to remind people that along with her freedom her name had been stripped from her. Dionysos has restored both to her and she now revels with him and the other mystai, beyond the reach of hateful men.
Fathergia is sponsoring an artistic agon in honor of Aphrodite and I heartily recommend that folks consider contributing something, because the Golden Lady is fucking awesome and deserves much love.
I have decided that with my own year anniversary fast approaching for my boyfriend and I, I will be holding an Agon for Aphrodite, the anniversary date is October 19, winners will be announced by October 26th. You can submit any work of art, this includes essays, poetry, visual art, music, choreographed dance, or costume pieces.
For more details, click here.
Jessa needs a hymn to Asklepios:
Personaly I would love a very singable hymn to Asklepios the Greek God of healing who I am devoted to both personaly and in my massage/ hypnotherapy practice.
I offer advice for creating said circles, readings, and dream workings. Also spellcrafted beaded jewlery.
For the love of the Gods and the work we can accomplish in this world. Jessa
jdurchai@yahoo.com
Theaomai could use some information on spiritual discernment:
Dver’s talked about this as “discernment” but there is really not very much information on it. And it’s SO ESSENTIAL, because people either feel they don’t have a “godphone” or run off and think everything Hermes says when they’re imagining an encounter with him is *what Hermes is actually saying*.
Galina has posted an account given by Langston, one of the members of House Sankofa who attended and was, in my opinion at least, integral to the success of the rite. The account is far more comprehensive and eloquent than anything I could provide:
Shortly after the divination class, I noticed that I was feeling Dionysus’ energy intensely in the house. It was an odd feeling for me, because it was familiar, but I had changed so much since I last experienced it. Unconsciously, I had a fear of this energy because in the past I would resist until it built up and burst through me overtaking me which usually led to a string of bad decisions, but this time I felt it coursing through me gradually and was able to choose to step into the flow. I experienced it, perhaps for the first time, as wholly a blessing. It’s hard to describe (that’s what poetry is for I guess) but it was a feeling of simultaneous mischief and darkness, sensuality, good humor, relaxation, virility and a total lack of self consciousness. I guess really what I’m describing is intoxication.
To read the rest, click here.
I feel truly blessed to have shared such a powerful and transformative experience with these amazing people.
That’s what community is about, not this bullshit online drama.
My lord, most noble hero, you make no mistake. You saw me father of five children; now you see me almost childless, such is the fickleness of fate. For what help to me is my son far away on Andros isle where in his father’s stead he reigns? Delius gave him power of prophecy and Liber gave my girls gifts greater than their prayers, greater than belief. For at my daughters’ touch all things were turned to corn or wine or oil of Minerva’s tree. Rich was that role of theirs!
When it was know to Atrides, plunderer of Troia … with force of arms he stole my girls, protesting, from their father’s arms and bade them victual with that gift divine the fleet of Greece. They fled, each as she could, two to Euboea, two to their brother’s isle, Andros. A force arrived and threatened war, were they not given up. Fear overcame his love and he gave up his kith and kin to punishment. And one could well forgive their frightened brother.
Now fetters were made ready to secure the captured sisters’ arms: their arms still free the captives raised to heaven, crying “Help! Help, father Bacchus!” and the god who gave their gift brought help, if help it can be called in some strange way to lose one’s nature.
How they lost it, that I never learnt, nor could I tell you now. The bitter end’s well known. With wings and feathers, birds your consort loves, my daughters were transformed to snow-white doves.
– Ovid, Metamorphoses 13.631
At the solicitation of Theophilus bishop of Alexandria the emperor issued an order at this time for the demolition of the heathen temples in that city; commanding also that it should be put in execution under the direction of Theophilus.
Seizing this opportunity, Theophilus exerted himself to the utmost to expose the pagan mysteries to contempt. And to begin with, he caused the Mithreum to be cleaned out, and exhibited to public view the tokens of its bloody mysteries. He also destroyed the Serapeum and had the phalloi of Dionysos, used in extravagant superstitions, brought forth and carried through the midst of the forum.
The Pagans of Alexandria, and especially the professors of philosophy, were unable to repress their rage at this exposure, and exceeded in revengeful ferocity their outrages on a former occasion: for with one accord, at a preconcerted signal, they rushed impetuously upon the Christians, and murdered every one they could lay hands on. The Christians also made an attempt to resist the assailants, and so the mischief was the more augmented.
This desperate affray was prolonged until satiety of bloodshed put an end to it. Then it was discovered that very few of the heathens had been killed, but a great number of Christians; while the number of wounded on each side was almost innumerable.
– Socrates Scholasticus, Ecclesiastical History 5.16
I, Dionysos, have left the wealthy lands of the Lydians and Phrygians, the sun-parched plains of the Persians, and the Bactrian walls, and have passed over the wintry land of the Medes, and blessed Arabia, and all of Asia which lies along the coast of the salt sea with its beautifully-towered cities full of Hellenes and Barbarians mingled together; and I have come to this Hellenic city first, having already set those other lands to dance and established my mysteries there, so that I might be a deity manifest among men.
– Euripides, prologue of The Bakchai
For some say, at Dracanum;
and some, on windy Icarus;
and some, in Naxos, O Heaven-born, Insewn;
and others by the deep-eddying river Alpheios
that pregnant Semele bare you to Zeus the thunder-lover.
And others yet, lord, say you were born in Thebes;
but all these lie.
The Father of men and gods gave you birth remote from men and secretly from white-armed Hera. There is a certain Nysa, a mountain most high and richly grown with woods, far off in Phoenike, near the streams of Aigyptos.
… and men will lay up for her many offerings in her shrines. And as these things are three, so shall mortals ever sacrifice perfect hecatombs to you at your feasts each three years.’
– Homeric Hymn to Dionysos fragment
We have a number of Dionysi. The first is the son of Jupiter and Proserpine; the second of Nile–he is the fabled slayer of Nysa. The father of the third is Cabirus; it is stated that he was king over Asia, and the Sabazia were instituted in his honour. The fourth is the son of Jupiter and Luna; the Orphic rites are believed to be celebrated in his honour. The fifth is the son of Nisus and Thyone, and is believed to have established the Trieterid festival.
– Cicero, De Natura Deorum 3. 21- 23
Melampos was the one who taught the Greeks the name of Dionysos and the way of sacrificing to him … besides many other things which he learned from Egypt, he also taught the Greeks things concerning Dionysos, altering few of them; for I will not say that what is done in Egypt in connection with the god and what is done among the Greeks originated independently: for they would then be of an Hellenic character and not recently introduced. Nor again will I say that the Egyptians took either this or any other custom from the Greeks. I believe that Melampos learned the worship of Dionysos chiefly from Kadmos of Tyre and those who came with Kadmos from Phoinikia to the land now called Boiotia.
– Herodotos, The Histories 2.49
Now Jupiter had not revealed himself, nor laid aside the semblance of a bull, until they stood upon the plains of Crete. But not aware of this, her father bade her brother Cadmus search through all the world, until he found his sister, and proclaimed him doomed to exile if he found her not;—thus was he good and wicked in one deed. When he had vainly wandered over the earth (for who can fathom the deceits of Jove?) Cadmus, the son of King Agenor, shunned his country and his father’s mighty wrath. But he consulted the famed oracles of Phoebus, and enquired of them what land might offer him a refuge and a home. And Phoebus answered him; “When on the plains a heifer, that has never known the yoke, shall cross thy path go thou thy way with her, and follow where she leads; and when she lies, to rest herself upon the meadow green, there shalt thou stop, as it will be a sign for thee to build upon that plain the walls of a great city: and its name shall be the City of Boeotia.” Cadmus turned; but hardly had descended from the cave, Castalian, ere he saw a heifer go unguarded, gentle-paced, without the scars of labour on her neck. He followed close upon her steps (and silently adored celestial Phoebus, author of his way) till over the channel that Cephissus wears he forded to the fields of Panope and even over to Boeotia.—there stood the slow-paced heifer, and she raised her forehead, broad with shapely horns, towards Heaven; and as she filled the air with lowing, stretched her side upon the tender grass, and turned her gaze on him who followed in her path. Cadmus gave thanks and kissed the foreign soil, and offered salutation to the fields and unexplored hills.
– Ovid, Metamorphoses: Book Three
The Greek account of Dionysus runs like this: Cadmus, the son of Agenor, was sent forth from Phoenicia by the king to seek out Europê, under orders either to bring him the maiden or never to come back to Phoenicia. After Cadmus had traversed a wide territory without being able to find her, he despaired of ever returning to his home; and when he had arrived in Boeotia, in obedience to the oracle which he had received he founded the city of Thebes. Here he made his home and marrying Harmonia, the daughter of Aphroditê, he begat by her Semelê, Ino, Autonoê, Agavê, and Semelê was loved by Zeus because of her beauty, but since he had his intercourse with her secretly and without speech she thought that the god despised her; consequently she made the request of him that he come to her embraces in the same manner as in his approaches to Hera. Accordingly, Zeus visited her in a way befitting a god, accompanied by thundering and lightning, revealing himself to her as he embraced her; but Semelê, who was pregnant and unable to endure the majesty of the divine presence, brought forth the babe untimely and was herself slain by the fire. Thereupon Zeus, taking up the child, handed it over to the care of Hermes, and ordered him to take it to the cave in Nysa,4 which lay between Phoenicia and the Nile, where he should deliver it to the nymphs that they should rear it and with great solicitude bestow upon it the best of care.
– Diodoros Sikeleiotes, The Library of History 4.2.1-3
Near Damascus in Syria is Scythopolis, which was formerly called Nysa, after Father Liber’s nurse, whom he buried there.
– Pliny the Elder, Natural History 5.74
As for cinnamon, where it comes from and what land produces it they cannot say, except that it is reported, reasonably enough, to grow in the places where Dionysos was reared.
– Herodotos, The Histories 3.111
Plato, in Adonis, says that an oracle was given to Cinyras concerning his son Adonis which read: ‘O Cinyras, king of the Cyprians, those men with hairy rumps, the son that is born to thee is fairest and most admirable of all men, yet two divinities shall destroy him, the goddess driven with secret oars, the god driving.’ He means Aphrodite and Dionysos; for both were in love with Adonis.
-– Athenaios, Deipnosophistai X.456a
There is, however, another sacred story which I had from the lips of a wise man—that the goddess was Rhea, and the shrine the work of Attes. Now this Attes was by nation a Lydian, and he first taught the sacred mysteries of Rhea. The ritual of the Phrygians and the Lydians and the Samothracians was entirely learnt from Attes. For when Rhea deprived him of his powers, he put off his manly garb and assumed the appearance of a woman and her dress, and roaming over the whole earth he performed his mysterious rites, narrating his sufferings and chanting the praises of Rhea. In the course of his wanderings he passed also into Syria. Now, when the men from beyond Euphrates would neither receive him nor his mysteries, he reared a temple to himself on this very spot. The tokens of this fact are as follows: She is drawn by lions, she holds a drum in her hand and carries a tower on her head, just as the Lydians make Rhea to do. He also affirmed that the Galli who are in the temple in no case castrate themselves in honour of Juno, but of Rhea, and this in imitation of Attes. All this seems to me more specious than true, for I have heard a different and more credible reason given for their castration. I approve of the remarks about the temple made by those who in the main accept the theories of the Greeks: according to these the goddess is Hera, but the work was carried out by Dionysus, the son of Semele: Dionysus visited Syria on his journey to Aethiopia. There are in the temple many tokens that Dionysus was its actual founder: for instance, barbaric raiment, Indian precious stones, and elephants’ tusks brought by Dionysus from the Aethiopians. Further, a pair of phalli of great size are seen standing in the vestibule, bearing the inscription, “I, Dionysus, dedicated these phalli to Hera my stepmother.” This proof satisfies me. And I will describe another curiosity to be found in this temple, a sacred symbol of Dionysus. The Greeks erect phalli in honour of Dionysus, and on these they carry, singular to say, mannikins made of wood, with enormous pudenda; they call these puppets. There is this further curiosity in the temple: as you enter, on the right hand, a small brazen statue meets your eye of a man in a sitting posture, with parts of monstrous size.
– Lucian, De Dea Syria 15-16
After Hera inflicted madness upon him, Dionysos wandered over Egypt and Syria. The Egyptian king Proteus was the first to receive him.
– Apollodoros, Bibliotheca 2.29
A great city called Meroe is said to be the capital of all Ethiopia. The people of the place worship no other gods but Zeus and Dionysos; these they greatly honor, and they have a place of divination sacred to Zeus; they send out armies whenever and wherever this god through his oracle commands them.
– Herodotos, The Histories 2. 29
Astydromia (Town-running): Among the Libyans it is like the birthday celebration of the city, and a Theodaisia festival, in which they honored Dionysos and the Nymphai; it seems to me they are hinting at both unmixed wine and the good mixture.
– Suidas s.v. Astydromia
Hermippus says that at the time when Liber was attacking Africa he came with his army to the place called Ammodes from the great quantities of sand. He was in great danger, since he saw he had to advance, and an added difficulty was the great scarcity of water. The army were almost at the point of exhaustion, and the men were wondering what to do, when a certain ram, wandering apart, came by chance near the soldiers. When it saw them it took safety in flight. The soldiers, however, who had seen it, though they were advancing with difficulty oppressed by the sand and heat, gave chase, as if seeking booty from the flames, and followed it to that place which was named from the temple of Jove Hammon later founded there. When they had come there, the ram which they had followed was nowhere to be seen, but what was more to be desired, they found an abundant supply of water, and, refreshed in body, reported it at once to Liber. In joy he led his army to that place, and founded a temple to Jove Hammon, fashioning a statue there with the horns of a ram. He put the ram among the constellations in such a way that when the sun should be in that sign, all growing things would be refreshed; this happens in the spring for the reason that the ram’s flight refreshed the army of Liber. He wished it, too, to be chief of the twelve signs, because the ram had been the best leader of his army. But Leon, who wrote about Egyptian affairs, speaks of the statue of Hammon as follows. When Liber was ruling over Eygpt and the other lands, and was said to have introduced all arts to mankind, a certain Hammon came from Africa and brought to him a great flock of sheep, in order more readily to enjoy his favour and be called the first inventor of something. And so, for his kindness, Liber is thought to have given him the land opposite Egyptian Thebes. Accordingly, those who make statues of Hammon, make them with horned heads, so that men may remember that he first showed the use of flocks. Those, however, who have wished to assign the gift to Liber, as not asked for from Hammon, but brought to him voluntarily, make those horned images for Liber, and say that in commemoration the ram was placed among the constellations.
– Hyginus, Astronomica 2.20
The Arabians believe in no other gods except Dionysos and Aphrodite Ourania; and they say that they wear their hair as Dionysos does his, cutting it round the head and shaving the temples. They call Dionysos Orotalt; and Aphrodite Alilat.
– Herodotos, The Histories 3.8
First the time and character of the greatest, most sacred holiday of the Jews clearly befit Dionysos. When they celebrate their so-called Fast, at the height of the vintage, they set out tables of all sorts of fruit under tents and huts plaited for the most part of vines and ivy. They call the first of the two days Tabernacles. A few days later they celebrate another festival, this time identified with Bacchos not through obscure hints but plainly called by his name, a festival that is a sort of ‘Procession of Branches’ or ‘Thyrsos Procession’ in which they enter the Temple each carrying a thyrsos. What they do after entering we do not know, but it is probable that the rite is a Bacchic revelry, for in fact they use little trumpets to invoke their god as do the Argives at their Dionysia. Others of them advance playing harps; these players are called in their language Levites, either from ‘Lysios’ or better, from ‘Euois.’ I believe that even the feast of the Sabbath is not completely unrelated to Dionysos. Many even now call the Bacchantes ‘Saboi’ and utter the cry when celebrating the God. Testimnoy of this can be found in Demosthenes and Menander. The Jews themselves testify to a connection with Dionysos when they keep the Sabbath by inviting each other to drink and enjoy wine; when more important business interferes with this custom, they regularly take at least a sip of neat wine. Now thus far one might call the argument only probable; but the opposition is quite demolished, in the first place by the High Priest, who leads the procession at their festival wearing a miter and clad in a gold-embroidered fawnskin, a robe reaching to the ankles, and buskins, with many bells attached to his clothes and ringing below him as he walks. All this corresponds to our custom. In the second place, they also have noise as an element in their nocturnal festivals, and call the nurses of the God ‘bronze rattlers.’ The carved thyrsos in the relief on the pediment of the Temple and the drums provide other parallels. All this surely befits no divinity but Dionysos.
– Plutarch, Quaestiones Convivales 4.6.1-2
Some say that the Jews were fugitives from the island of Crete, who settled on the nearest coast of Africa about the time when Saturn was driven from his throne by the power of Jupiter. Evidence of this is sought in the name. There is a famous mountain in Crete called Ida; the neighboring tribe, the Idaei, came to be called Judaei by a barbarous lengthening of the national name. Others assert that in the reign of Isis the overflowing population of Egypt, led by Hierosolymus and Judas, discharged itself into the neighboring countries. Many, again, say that they were a race of Ethiopian origin, who in the time of king Cepheus were driven by fear and hatred of their neighbors to seek a new dwelling-place. Others describe them as an Assyrian horde who, not having sufficient territory, took possession of part of Egypt, and founded cities of their own in what is called the Hebrew country, lying on the borders of Syria. Others, again, assign a very distinguished origin to the Jews, alleging that they were the Solymi, a nation celebrated in the poems of Homer, who called the city which they founded Hierosolyma after their own name. Most writers, however, agree in stating that once a disease, which horribly disfigured the body, broke out over Egypt; that king Bocchoris, seeking a remedy, consulted the oracle of Hammon, and was bidden to cleanse his realm, and to convey into some foreign land this race detested by the gods.
The people, who had been collected after diligent search, finding themselves left in a desert, sat for the most part in a stupor of grief, till one of the exiles, Moses by name, warned them not to look for any relief from God or man, forsaken as they were of both, but to trust to themselves, taking for their heaven-sent leader that man who should first help them to be quit of their present misery. They agreed, and in utter ignorance began to advance at random. Nothing, however, distressed them so much as the scarcity of water, and they had sunk ready to perish in all directions over the plain, when a herd of wild asses was seen to retire from their pasture to a rock shaded by trees. Moses followed them, and, guided by the appearance of a grassy spot, discovered an abundant spring of water. This furnished relief. After a continuous journey for six days, on the seventh they possessed themselves of a country, from which they expelled the inhabitants, and in which they founded a city and a temple.
Moses, wishing to secure for the future his authority over the nation, gave them a novel form of worship, opposed to all that is practiced by other men. Things sacred with us, with them have no sanctity, while they allow what with us is forbidden. In their holy place they have consecrated an image of the animal by whose guidance they found deliverance from their long and thirsty wanderings. They slay the ram, seemingly in derision of Hammon, and they sacrifice the ox, because the Egyptians worship it as Apis. They abstain from swine’s flesh, in consideration of what they suffered when they were infected by the leprosy to which this animal is liable. By their frequent fasts they still bear witness to the long hunger of former days, and the Jewish bread, made without leaven, is retained as a memorial of their hurried seizure of corn. We are told that the rest of the seventh day was adopted, because this day brought with it a termination of their toils; after a while the charm of indolence beguiled them into giving up the seventh year also to inaction.
This worship, however introduced, is upheld by its antiquity; all their other customs, which are at once perverse and disgusting, owe their strength to their very badness. The most degraded out of other races, scorning their national beliefs, brought to them their contributions and presents. This augmented the wealth of the Jews, as also did the fact, that among themselves they are inflexibly honest and ever ready to shew compassion, though they regard the rest of mankind with all the hatred of enemies. They sit apart at meals, they sleep apart, and though, as a nation, they are singularly prone to lust, they abstain from intercourse with foreign women; among themselves nothing is unlawful. Circumcision was adopted by them as a mark of difference from other men. Those who come over to their religion adopt the practice, and have this lesson first instilled into them, to despise all gods, to disown their country, and set at nought parents, children, and brethren. Still they provide for the increase of their numbers. It is a crime among them to kill any newly-born infant. They hold that the souls of all who perish in battle or by the hands of the executioner are immortal. Hence a passion for propagating their race and a contempt for death. They are wont to bury rather than to burn their dead, following in this the Egyptian custom; they bestow the same care on the dead, and they hold the same belief about the lower world.
Quite different is their faith about things divine. The Egyptians worship many animals and images of monstrous form; the Jews have purely mental conceptions of Deity, as one in essence. They call those profane who make representations of God in human shape out of perishable materials. They believe that Being to be supreme and eternal, neither capable of representation, nor of decay. They therefore do not allow any images to stand in their cities, much less in their temples. This flattery is not paid to their kings, nor this honor to our Emperors. From the fact, however, that their priests used to chant to the music of flutes and cymbals, and to wear garlands of ivy, and that a golden vine was found in the temple, some have thought that they worshiped father Liber, the conqueror of the East, though their institutions do not by any means harmonize with the theory; for Liber established a festive and cheerful worship, while the Jewish religion is tasteless and mean.
– Tacitus, The Histories
Darius when he had viewed the Bosporos also set up two pillars of white marble by it, engraving on the one in Assyrian and on the other in Greek characters the names of all the nations that were in his army: all the nations subject to him . . . These pillars were afterward carried by the Byzantines into their city and there used to build the altar of Artemis Orthosia, except for one column covered with Assyrian writing that was left beside the temple of Dionysos at Byzantion.
– Herodotos, The Histories 4.87
Let the people’s hymn sound with the praise of Bacchus. Bind your streaming locks with the nodding ivy, and in your soft hands grasp the Nysaean thyrsus! Bright glory of the sky, come hither to the prayers which thine own illustrious Thebes, O Bacchus, offers to thee with suppliant hands. Hither turn with favour thy virginal face; with thy star-bright countenance drive away the clouds, the grim threats of Erebus, and greedy fate. Thee it becomes to circle thy locks with flowers of the springtime, thee to cover thy head with Tyrian turban, or thy smooth brow to wreathe with the ivy’s clustering berries; now to fling loose thy lawless-streaming locks, again to bind them in a knot close-drawn; in such guise as when, fearing thy stepdame’s wrath, thou didst grow to manhood with false-seeming limbs, a pretended maiden with golden ringlets, with saffron girdle binding thy garments. So thereafter this soft vesture has pleased thee, folds loose hanging and the long-trailing mantle. Seated in thy golden chariot, thy lions with long trappings covered, all the vast coast of the Orient saw thee, both he who drinks of the Ganges and whoever breaks the ice of snowy Araxes.
On an unseemly ass old Silenus attends thee, his swollen temples bound with ivy garlands; while thy wanton initiates lead the mystic revels. Along with thee a troop of Bassarids in Edonian dance beat the ground, now on Mount Pangaeus’ peak, now on the top of Thracian Pindus; now midst Cadmean dames has come a maenad, the impious comrade of Ogygian Bacchus, with sacred fawn-skins girt about her loins, her hand a light thyrsus brandishing. Their hearts maddened by thee, the matrons have set their hair a-flowing; and at length, after the rending of Pentheus’ limbs, the Bacchanals, their bodies now freed from the frenzy, looked on their infamous deed as though they knew it not.
Cadmean Ino, foster-mother of shining Bacchus, holds the realms of the deep, encircled by bands of Nereids dancing; over the waves of the mighty deep a boy holds sway, new come, the kinsman of Bacchus, no common god, Palaemon.
Thee, O boy, a Tyrrhenian band once captured and Nereus allayed the swollen sea; the dark blue waters he changed to meadows. Thence flourish the plane-tree with vernal foliage and the laurel-grove dear to Phoebus; the chatter of birds sounds loud through the branches. Fast-growing ivy clings to the oars, and grape-vines twine at the mast-head. On the prow an Idaean lion roars; at the stern crouches a tiger of Ganges. Then the frightened pirates swim in the sea, and plunged in the water their bodies assume new forms: the robbers’ arms first fall away; their breasts smite their bellies and are joined in one; a tiny hand comes down at the side; with curving back they dive into the waves, and with crescent-shaped tail they cleave the sea; and now as curved dolphins they follow the fleeing sails.
On its rich stream has Lydian Pactolus borne thee, leading along its burning banks the golden waters; the Massgetan who mingles blood with milk in his goblets has unstrung his vanquished bow and given up his Getan arrows; the realms of axe-wielding Lycurgus have felt the dominion of Bacchus; the fierce lands of the Zalaces have felt it, and those wandering tribes whom neighbouring Boreas smites, and the nations which Maeotis’ cold water washes, and they on whom the Arcadian constellation looks down from the zenith and the wagons twain. He has subdued the scattered Gelonians; he has wrested their arms form the warrior maidens; with downcast face they fell to earth, those Thermodontian hordes, gave up at length their light arrows, and became maenads. Sacred Cithaeron has flowed with the blood of Ophionian slaughter; the Proetides fled to the woods, and Argos, in his stepdame’s very presence, paid homage to Bacchus.
Naxos, girt by the Aegean sea, gave him in marriage a deserted maiden, compensating her loss with a better husband. Out of the dry rock there gushed Nyctelian liquor; babbling rivulets divided the grassy meadows; deep the earth drank in the sweet juices, white fountains of snowy milk and Lesbian wine mingled with fragrant thyme. The new-made bride is led to the lofty heavens; Phoebus a stately anthem sings, with his locks flowing down his shoulders, and twin Cupides brandish their torches. Jupiter lays aside his fiery weapons and, when Bacchus comes, abhors his thunderbolt.
While the bright stars of the ancient heavens shall run in their courses; while Oceanus shall encircle the imprisoned earth with its waters; while full Luna gather again her lost radiance; while Lucifer shall herald the dawn of the morning and while the lofty Bears shall know naught of caerulean Nereus; so long shall we worship the shining face of beauteous Lyaeus
– Seneca, Oedipus 401 ff
Apparently there are people objecting to prayers being said on behalf of the community.
I cannot directly respond to these objections since I personally haven’t seen any of them yet, nor do I have any intention of wading through the muck of Tumblr and Facebook, their most probable place of origin, to seek them out. I was made aware of their existence by this eloquent and thought-provoking rumination on the subject, which I highly recommend everyone read.
I didn’t have such a high-minded rationale going into it, myself; it just seemed like the right thing to do, being something that our ancestors did.
I’m actually glad that these objections are circulating, as it provides us with an opportunity to have a serious conversation about our traditions and practices. Not having read the posts, I can only attempt to anticipate the nature of these objections — which will probably result in a higher level of discourse anyway, natch.
To begin with, let us imagine that our interlocutor asks why the community needs prayers said on its behalf at all. Certainly a person should be able to pray for themselves, right?
Yes, absolutely, they should. From the cradle we should be surrounded by the sounds of prayer and the motions of domestic cultus so that this becomes second nature to us. As toddlers our parents should begin including us in the worship of the household gods and make a big deal of involving us in the series of monthly holy days, annual festivals and regular seasonal observances of our family. We should be taught songs and dances and the stories of our ancestral gods and heroes, how to make special foods and crafts, how to interpret signs and hear omens — all the countless threads that weave the rich tapestry of our line’s traditions. This is our natural birthright, but today even the Christians are struggling to preserve the remnants of their own folkways under the press of secular “progress,” so I do not automatically assume that everyone knows the proper way to pray.
And even if one does, it is not always possible or appropriate to pray for one’s own self. After all, an individual may be ill or in a state of ritual impurity or feel that it is a matter best taken to a divinity that they have no prior relationship with or it may just be too painful, too personal to speak the words aloud before a shrine. In all such instances I feel that it is proper to turn to someone from the community, a friend and brother who will speak to the divinities on their behalf.
Much good may come from such an outreaching. First it solidifies the bond of fellowship between them and that is necessary to create a strong community. Secondly it ensures that the prayer is said, even if the individual is not able to say it on their own, and prayer opens a channel through which the blessings of the divinities may flow. This also gives the person who prays an opportunity to exercise virtue — the virtue of practicing their religion, of offering hospitality by extending a hand to one in need, of giving selflessly of one’s time and resources.
And when a community all pray the same prayer — wow! There is a powerful efficacy when many voices rise up harmoniously and with uniform intent. We are all better, stronger when we work together.
Are the hearts of the divinities moved by prayer and sacrifice?
This is an area where Plato diverged from the Orphikoi, who otherwise influenced a great deal of his thought — and I’m inclined to side with the sons of Orpheus on this one, for I have experienced precisely this more times than I can count. (I’d elaborate but you’d accuse me of bragging.)
Taking this much further than Plato did — he diverged from them primarily on ethical grounds, not theological ones: the man was sound in his polytheism, however much certain ideologues would like to spin it otherwise — if one holds that the divinities are indifferent to our words and deeds, I believe that one does not have true religion at all. It is precisely their agency, their ability to respond to us and act in the world that distinguishes a proper divinity from the products of the human imagination. Though “ability to” is not the same as “does” — a deus otiosus is still a deus, just not one I see any point in honoring. Conversely, show me miraculous intervention by Bruce Wayne and I will not disparage your cultus of him.
Moving along, we can all agree that prayer either yields results or it does not.
If it does, why object to someone praying for the good of the polytheist community? Certainly everyone can use an increase of good things in their life. And if it does not produce results then the only one who is harmed is the one who prays, thereby wasting their time and squandering their material resources. However I would counter that mumbling pretty but empty words at a lifeless statue is still a better choice than playing World of Warcraft or watching one of those shitty reality tv shows.
Of course one may believe generally in the efficacy of prayer but have perfectly valid concerns over what is being prayed for on their behalf or who is doing the praying.
Many people in our interlocking communities have taken up this practice over the last few years. I cannot speak about why or how the majority of them pray, but I can explain my own practice.
First I make offerings to Dionysos and his retinue and then to all of the divinities who wish to partake, leaving it up to them to determine the appropriateness of the worship given. Then I ask general blessings of wisdom, creativity, health, luck, protection and material abundance for all of those who are doing the work of their divinities. I ask that the divinities guide and strengthen everyone’s efforts to restore our sundered ancestral traditions. I ask especially that the dead step forward as teachers and defenders of tradition, for their involvement is necessary if those traditions are to be rooted in the real and possess the vitality to be passed down to future generations.
And that’s it.
If you’re not involved in this work, I’m not praying on your behalf. You’re not one of my people. I don’t care about you.
Next I recite specific petitions that members of the community have sent in to me, making separate offerings to the petitioned divinities, for it is Greek custom never to come before the divinities wineless and with empty hands.
And then I perform any divination that people have requested of me.
See, nothing scary or invasive about it.
As for the question of whether I’m in any sort of proper spiritual condition to be serving the divinities and my community in this capacity — well, I’m probably not. But who the fuck else is gonna do it?
Sure, the work I do with Dionysos and his retinue precludes deeper involvement with a number of other divinities, but I believe that those divinities take into consideration things like situation and intent. While I’m normally not even going to register on their radar (and would most certainly repulse them if I did) I suspect in this one limited context they may look past that to receive an earnest supplication presented on behalf of a member of their community. And if they are bothered by it, I suspect that they will take their displeasure out on me and not on the one I’m praying for, especially if that person is just included in the general prayers for the community. I mean, for the most part divinities are not malicious, capricious pricks. Many can even be described as gracious and benevolent.
As a priest, it is my intent to do good for my community, therefore if there are signs that others are experiencing adverse effects as a result of my praying for them, I will most assuredly cease.
Though phrased theoretically, one should not assume that I’m just jumping in this half-cocked. (I do everything whole-cocked.) I’ve put a lot of thought into the ramifications of hiera — I have also been doing it off and on for close to twenty years (gods that makes me feel so old) before I was recently pushed to make it a central focus of my praxis.
And finally, despite what many of you may naturally assume, I have thus far managed to refrain from praying for the harm and obliteration of individuals and elements within the community that I dislike.
Besides, Hekate’s deipnon is when you make arae. Everyone knows that.
Quoth the adaoineile:
but i really shouldnt’ be pitching a fit because oh my gods think of the pageviews i’m going to get this will be glorious so so glorious
i feel so powerful right now you don’t even know just unf
Quoth the satsekhem:
THIS IS PARTIALLY WHY I COMMENTED. I’LL GET A HUGE INFLUX OF VIEWS. WEEEE STATS. BUT YOU KNOW, ALSO BECAUSE I LIKE TO POINT OUT THAT HIS EGO DOES NOT RUN THE INTERWEBZ.
Of course it does, darlings.
And there’s a very simple way to prove it.
Stop talking about me.
But you can’t, can you?
Don’t worry, dearies. I heartily support your trollery!
I mean fuck, these periodic pagan shit-storms are just part of life on Web 2.0 so why the hell not use them for personal benefit and furthering your agenda?
Everyone should take advantage of this!
If you’re working on a project that you’d like support for or want to help boost the signal of a cause or group that interests you, consider yourself encouraged to drop by and share a link. I guarantee you’ll get a ton of traffic and maybe even a few folks willing to help out.
A few is all it takes. Just look at how well this is progressing.
If that’s got any hope of working out they’ll need a lot of fresh content. You should start thinking about what you can contribute now.
Bianca Bradley posed a wonderful question:
Hey Sannion tangent time. http://godsmouths.wordpress.com/2013/09/09/describing-the-indescribable/#comment-118 Can I poke you with a writing on this? Doubt, on are you seeing, feeling, being mystical about the Gods. Did you feel it when you were new?
At first I was just going to respond with this, my favorite quote on the subject:
“We work in the dark – we do what we can – we give what we have. Our doubt is our passion, and our passion is our task. The rest is the madness of art.” ― Henry James, The Middle Years
But then I remembered that a while back I discussed at length this very topic with a friend, which I am now reposting here with their permission.
I have also written poetry about faith, devotion and doubt that may be relevant to this.
Oh yes! I have certainly gone through that, especially during my year of hell in the Bronx. I think if you never experience any doubt you’re in a very dangerous place. That leads to a mindless fundamentalism and also a sort of hollow, useless faith. I feel that having gone through the doubt, really deeply questioned everything that’s important to me, and still come through it has only reaffirmed and strengthened those things that I do hold to.
However, as with all things, you can take it too far, and end up talking yourself out of some really good experiences.
So, the question, how do you know? How do you really know?
You don’t.
You can’t.
Fuck, you can’t even really prove that anything outside of yourself actually exists and isn’t just a figment of your imagination. I mean, for all you know, I might not exist. This e-mail could just be magically appearing to you out of nowhere, or perhaps you’ve got multiple personality disorder and one of your other selves is writing this to you.
I know that that’s not the case, because I’m sitting here typing it myself, but really, how do you know that? You don’t, but the alternatives seem rather improbable, don’t they? As Klaudios Ptolemaios once said, “We consider it a good principle to explain the phenomena by the simplest hypothesis possible.”
And that’s really something that I’ve noticed. It’s much simpler to take things at face value. It requires less effort, less mental juggling, less trying to explain away all these coincidences. Because once you start down the skeptics’ path, and really start questioning everything, it all unravels, and your questions never end.
Now I’m not saying that believe everything is the best – a small dose of skepticism is a good thing – but there has to be a balance. And that’s really one of the fundamentals of Hellenismos. At Delphi were inscribed a series of maxims or wise sayings and one of the foremost of these was “Everything in moderation” or “Nothing to Excess”.
Now, I could give you a bunch of theological and philosophical proofs for the existence of the gods – the Greeks loved this shit – but really, do those work? They don’t for Christians, as you and I both know all too well. People like to think that you can reduce it down to a mathematical proof, but you can’t. You just can’t. That’s not how spiritual things work. They have their own laws, their own type of existence, and therefore the laws that govern our meat bodies don’t apply to them. What I’ve always found to be a much surer proof than pretty sounding words – and paradoxically, less certain – is one’s experience.
When you begin to experience the gods, have encounters with them, feel them as an intimate part of your life, the junkyard dog of doubt that lives in your heart begins to curl up and go to sleep. Not at first, of course. You get into such a habit of doubting everything that it’s natural, reflexive. But eventually, over time, you’ll begin to see that you don’t need that armor, that all these weird and wonderful things are happening, things that you can’t explain in any other way than but to assert the existence of the gods. So that’s really my advice – start slow and work your way up. Read about the gods, try to get an understanding about them. Then go out into the world and see if you can find them there. Because our gods don’t inhabit some fairytale heaven, they’re right here, with us, in this world. They live in the sky and the earth, in trees and mountains, in old buildings and city streets. You can find them anywhere and everywhere. The mass of people experience them, but no longer have the vocabulary, the worldview in which to place them. They have also come to doubt their senses. They think only the intellectual matters, and that what you feel with the flesh, what you smell and taste and hear is not real. Only the mind. Well, mind is nice, but we’re more than mind. We’re all of our senses together, and a little something else, a little something that exists beyond the physical. And so is everything else in the world.
So, remember that, and remember that there are many ways to experience things. You aren’t always going to experience the gods as seven foot tall blond humanoid beings who come up and have a heart to heart with you. Sometimes it’s just a feeling of PRESENCE, perhaps accompanied by a smell or taste or some odd random occurance. Sometimes you’ll experience them in animal form – a deer that uncharacteristically stops, looks at you, and you see in its eyes a greater than animal intelligence. Sometimes its as simple as a sudden breeze rustling the leaves to get your attention, or a phrase on a billboard that exactly matches the contents of your thoughts at that moment. Sometimes you’ll have a dream or a vision, and yes, occasionally you’ll get a burning bush, but not very often. That’s not usually how the gods choose to act. But the thing is, they do choose to act, and they can choose to act in any number of ways. So that’s part of the religion too – mindfulness. Paying attention to the world around you, instead of contemplating your navel or dreaming of a distant heaven. It’s being here, now, and acting in the world. Which is why stuff like prayer and sacrifice is so important. Because the gods aren’t just good feelings inside us – they have an independent existence outside of us. And in gratitude for the real things that they do for us, we offer real actions to them. And that’s something else that’ll help with doubt – finding a regular routine of worship, and doing it, no matter what.
Because you aren’t always going to feel up to doing it, sometimes you’ll downright kick and scream against it. But those are the times when you need to do something like that the most. And don’t always expect that there’ll be fireworks kind of experiences when you do that routine – sometimes it’s downright boring, but you should still do it, because it’s a way of showing respect to the gods.
Also, it occurs to me that the root of skepticism lies in fear. Fear of being hurt, fear of being taken advantage of, fear of putting your faith in something that’s going to let you down, fear of looking foolish. So, in order to combat this fear, one actively wars against faith, asserting their independence, insisting that this can’t and won’t touch their life, and thus they won’t be hurt anymore.
But what do you get when you base your life on fear?
Nothing comes out of nothing, and fear only begets fear, emptiness, and loneliness.
It takes real courage to put aside that fear and embrace life to its fullest. And to really be living, you have to take risks, you have to be willing to get your knees bruised and your heart broken. And Hellenismos is, above all things, a religion of life.
Each of our gods presides over a particular part of it, and in experiencing that part of life to its fullest, you draw closer to them.
And really, a lot of the worries that lead to rampant skepticism don’t apply in Hellenismos. There’s no authority, no one who stands between you and the gods. No one who’s going to take advantage of you, steal your money, tell you what to do with your life. At most, our priests lead rituals and offer advice – but even then, there’s nothing that says you have to accept what they say as the gospel truth. You are allowed – nay ENCOURAGED to argue with them, and think things out for yourself.
You’re even allowed to disagree with the gods.
And yeah, maybe there’s still the fear of looking foolish, because from some perspectives, what we do can look a little silly.
Standing in front of a table with pretty bowls and statues and pouring wine to them and scattering barley and reciting poetry – yeah, that can seem a little silly.
But really, is that the worse thing in the world?
Think about it – how foolish do you look when you dance, or when you have sex? There is nothing more absurd than two people making love – and yet, nothing more intense, more beautiful, more mindblowingly amazing than good sex. Hell, even bad sex is still sex.
So really, sometimes you’ve just got to let go and let yourself be in the moment, and accept that yup, you’re going to look silly afterwards, but that doesn’t matter, because right now it feels incredible.
And believe me, worship, real worship where you can actually feel the gods present there with you – is the most amazing thing in the world.
Yeah, it’s even better than sex.
Though I don’t know if I’d want to have to choose between the two of them.
And another thing that I think really helps – Hellenismos is about gratitude, about deepening your relationship with the gods. It’s not about dogma, it’s not about fear, it’s not about demeaning and humiliating yourself in order to exult god – it’s about simple thankfulness. About honoring the gods as the bestowers of all of life’s blessings, and worshipping them by sharing our food, our drink, by reciting pretty words, by making art, by dancing or racing or perfecting our bodies, by simply acknowledging that they’re there, that you recognize all that they’ve done for you, and that you deeply appreciate them.
It’s as simple – and as incredibly profound – as that.
Because in the end, your whole life becomes about thankfulness, because every single aspect of your life has a presiding deity or spirit.
So everything you think or do or desire becomes a way to honour and connect with the divine.
“You have stood before some landscape, which seems to embody what you have been looking for all your life; and then turned to the friend at your side who appears to be seeing what you saw—but at the first words a gulf yawns between you, and you realise that this landscape means something totally different to him, that he is pursuing an alien vision and cares nothing for the ineffable suggestion by which you are transported … All the things that have deeply possessed your soul have been but hints of it—tantalising glimpses, promises never quite fulfilled, echoes that died away just as they caught your ear. But if it should really become manifest—if there ever came an echo that did not die away but swelled into the sound itself—you would know it. Beyond all possibility of doubt you would say ‘Here at last is the thing I was made for.’ We cannot tell each other about it. It is the secret signature of each soul, the incommunicable and unappeasable want … which we shall still desire on our deathbeds … Your place in heaven will seem to be made for you and you alone, because you were made for it—made for it stitch by stitch as a glove is made for a hand.” – C. S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain
‘All round the ship they leapt in showers of splashing spray. Time after time they surfaced and fell back into the sea, playing like dancers, frolicking about in fun, wide nostrils taking in the sea to flow it out again. Of the whole twenty (that was the crew she carried) I alone remained. As I stood trembling, cold with fear, almost out of my wits, the god spoke words of comfort: “Cast your fear aside. Sail on to Dia.”
‘Landing there, I joined his cult and am now a faithful follower of Bacchus.’
‘We’ve listened to this rigmarole,’ said Pentheus, ‘To give our anger time to lose its force. Away with him, you slaves! Rush him away! Rack him with fiendish tortures till he dies and send him down to the black night of Stygia.’
So there and then Acoetes was hauled off and locked in a strong cell; but while the fire, the steel, the instruments of cruel death were being prepared, all of their own accord the doors flew open, all of their own accord the chains fell, freed by no one, from his arms.
– Ovid, Metamorphoses 3.572
“Lord help you! You women are always thinking of men’s being in liquor. Why, you do not suppose a man is overset by a bottle? I am sure of this—that if everybody was to drink their bottle a day, there would not be half the disorders in the world there are now. It would be a famous good thing for us all.”
“I cannot believe it.”
“Oh! Lord, it would be the saving of thousands. There is not the hundredth part of the wine consumed in this kingdom that there ought to be. Our foggy climate wants help.”
– Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey chapter IX
Who and from where are you Dionysus?
Since by the true Bacchus,
I do not recognize you; I know only the son of Zeus.
While he smells like nectar, you smell like a goat.
Can it be then that the Celts because of lack of grapes
Made you from cereals? Therefore one should call you
Demetrius, not Dionysus, rather wheat born and Bromus,
Not Bromius.
– Emperor Julian in the Greek Anthology
The Greek religion does not yet prosper as I would wish, on account of those who profess it. But the gifts of the gods are great and splendid, better than any prayer or any hope … Indeed, a little while ago no one would have dared even to pray for a such change, and so complete a one in so short a space of time. Why then do we think that this is sufficient and do not observe how the kindness of Christians to strangers, their care for the burial of their dead, and the sobriety of their lifestyle has done the most to advance their cause?
Priests ought to make a point of not doing impure or shameful deeds or saying words or hearing talk of this type. We must therefore get rid of all offensive jokes and licentious associations. What I mean is this: no priest is to read Archilochus or Hipponax or anyone else who writes poetry as they do. They should stay away from the same kind of stuff in Old Comedy. Philosophy alone is appropriate for us priests. Of the philosophers, however, only those who put the gods before them as guides of their intellectual life are acceptable, like Pythagoras, Plato, Aristotle, and the Stoics . . . only those who make people reverent . . . not the works of Pyrrho and Epicurus . . . We ought to pray often to the gods in private and in public, about three times a day, but if not that often, at least in the morning and at night.
No priest is anywhere to attend shameful theatrical shows or to have one performed at his own house; it is in no way appropriate. Indeed, if it were possible to get rid of such shows altogether from the theater and restore the theaters, purified, to Dionysus as in the olden days, I would certainly have tried to bring this about. But since I thought that this was out of the question, and even if possible would for other reasons be inexpedient, I did not even try. But I do insist that priests stay away from the licentiousness of the theaters and leave them to the people. No priest is to enter a theater, have an actor or a chariot driver as a friend, or allow a dancer or mime into his house. I allow to attend the sacred games those who want to, that is, they may attend only those games from which women are forbidden to attend not only as participants but even as spectators.
– Emperor Julian, Letter to the priest Arsacius
To the liberator of the Roman world, the restorer of the temples, reviver of town councils and of the state, destroyer of the barbarians, our lord Julian ever Augustus, mighty victor over the Almanns, mighty victor over the Franks, mighty victor over the Sarmatians, chief priest, father of his country: the provincial assembly of the Phoenicians ordered this.
-– AE 631
Demetrios, the surviving son, had not the height of his father, though he was a tall man, but he had features of rare and astonishing beauty, so that no painter or sculptor ever achieved a likeness of him. They had at once grace and strength, dignity and beauty, and there was blended with their youthful eagerness a certain heroic look and a kingly majesty that were hard to imitate. And in like manner his disposition also was fitted to inspire in men both fear and favour. For while he was a most agreeable companion, and most dainty of princes in the leisure devoted to drinking and luxurious ways of living, on the other hand he had a most energetic and eager persistency and efficiency in action. Wherefore he used to make Dionysos his pattern, more than any other deity, since this god was most terrible in waging war, and on the other hand most skilful, when war was over, in making peace minister to joy and pleasure.
– Plutarch, Life of Demetrius
