It’s that time of year again, dear friends; and, given the state of the U.S.’s climate these days, I don’t think I need to tell you what all of this means, especially considering that across the nation, record-breaking temperatures have already been witnessed in many places. While it is bright and sunny where I am today, it’s nowhere near as hot as many places are–and thus, my thoughts go out to everyone in the country who is now suffering due to the extreme heat, whether physically, financially, or both.

I’ve written poems dealing with the gods/heroes of this day in The Phillupic Hymns and Devotio Antinoo: The Doctor’s Notes, Volume One, but it didn’t really seem appropriate, given both that the world is in the state it is, and that I’m a fili who should never rest on my laurels, as it were, that I should simply give what has already been given elsewhere to honor these gods on this day. Thus, I shall give Aristaios (not to be confused with Aristeas of Proconnesus, who will be the subject of some future blog entries!) and Adonis, who have their syncretism festivals with Antinous today, as well as Hermanubis, and Antinous Kynegetikos himself, poems on this occasion. (My first post for Honor Loki Month will follow after this!) Thus, without further ado…

Dies Caniculares

Sing to me, O Muses, of the days when the dog-star,
Maira, the faithful hound of Ikarios and Erigone,
rages across the sky in fire for the death of her masters!

Dionysos, angry, appeared to the murderers
in a youthful form so irresistibly intoxicating
it left every last one a herm able to move about.

Zeus, in anger at these transgressions of men,
made Helios to flame more fiercely for a few days,
becoming like the lion of Nemea slain by Herakles.

But the son of Apollon and the fair nymph Cyrene,
Aristaios, the giver of sweet things to humanity,
propitiated Zeus to avert his wrath in time.

While we upon the earth wait, however, for the sun
to slow his burning, urged on by Maira’s barking chase,
the flowers of the field wilt and the corn dies.

We are reminded of the Cyprian Golden Mother’s loss,
fair Adonis, plucked too early from the earthly garden
to be a flower over the meadow-plains of asphodel.

O boar of Ares, the goring creature of sparks,
turn aside to cooler springs flowing from Helikon,
and do not destroy the youths nor uproot the shoots!

For all the great gods and heroes, named and unnamed,
I sing these praises that you may favor
the children of the earth in this sizzling season!

*****

Hermanubis Psychopompos

Favor me with words, Twice-Great Thoth,
and guide my pen truly, Seshat, Lady of the House of Life,
that the ink may flow as freely and without fault
as the stream of inspiration from the mouths of the gods!

I sing the praises of the son of Isis and Serapis,
Hermanubis, friend of the bereaved,
guardian of the gates between the Two Lands
and the fair realms of Amenti and the Amduat.

It is under the light of your star in the heavens
that Neilos brings his bounty to the beautiful valley,
the lands of the offspring of Horus and the children of Set,
when the Apis Bull roars and the people rejoice.

Guide us, o god sublime, upon the bordering mountain,
when our feet are tired from walking righteous paths
and the roads stretch ahead too far to see,
when a world of sorrows wearies our spirits.

With shouting and dancing and laughing play
you bring joy to the hearts of all who see you,
and like the most skilled herd-dog of every animal
you make sure not a one is lost nor reaved.

Where your brother Harpocrates is silent on his throne
of the lotus flower sprung from the Nile’s waters,
you are the speaker and guide for those who hear you
in the hum and crackle of the hearth fire’s embers.

May you be praised by the Greeks of Egypt
and the Egyptians of Greece and Rome alike,
as well as others in their own lands–
praise to Thoth and Seshat, and to Hermanubis, my song is done!

*****

Antinous the Hunter

O you nymphs who dance around Artemis: favor me in my hunting song today–

Of wild hares, I’ll sing you one
for which ensnaring nets are spun.

Of peaceful deer, I’ll sing you two
which hide in wooded paths from view.

Of spiders weaving, I’ll sing three
that fearful drop from branch of tree.

Of wild goats, I’ll sing you four
that stride ‘cross’d mountain falls that roar.

Of feral oxen, I’ll sing five
the sacred beasts for which gods strive.

Of fierce she-bears, I’ll sing you six
whose might withstands all hunters’ tricks.

Of foaming boars, I’ll sing you seven
whose strife streams up from earth to heaven.

Of deadly lions, I’ll sing eight
whose claws and fangs mete out our fate.

Of hunting hounds, I’ll sing you nine
that bring down quarry swift and fine.

Of charging horses, I’ll sing ten
who make sound centaurs of strong men.

Praise to Artemis and her nymphs today,
my song, now sung, makes spear-points slay!

*****

Praise to the many gods of this day! May the wrath of the dog-star Sirius and the heat of the dog-days be averted from the face of the earth!

It’s getting toward the height of the dog-days now, and the moon is inching toward full on this Monday–that is, “Moon-Day,” named not only after the moon, but after a certain Norse deity called Máni who is a moon-god. (And who else is a moon-god, at least in some of his forms?–Antinous, of course!) So, if you have been following the theme I’ve been doing recently, you should know who the two honorands are today; and if not, then you need to go back to lore-school.

Before getting into the particulars of the dogs of the day (!?!), I’d like to talk about something else that my series of posts honoring Loki and his family illustrates, I think. It’s a concept that, despite being rather obvious to myself and to a variety of other polytheists, seems to be completely and utterly lost on others. It’s really a matter, in my opinion, of understanding polytheism itself, full-stop.

There’s a lot to recommend polytheism as a viable, sensible, and practical theological system to underlie one’s religious notions and spiritual practices. Star Foster has talked a bit about the fact that modern paganism is really the only modern religion that can lay claim to polytheism over and above all else (despite the disagreement with this assertion that some of the commenters on the entry had). The diversity it entails as a necessity; the mutual respect for other paths and multiple ways of doing things, even when it comes to approaching the same gods within the same overall cultural framework; the preference for multiple possible answers and a variety of truths as opposed to one singular, irrefutable, unquestionable, “my-way-or-the-highway” approach to most theological questions…and the list goes on. But, one thing that I also like about it, and that I think some people still tend to miss despite being polytheists in name, is that in a polytheistic framework, the gods are interdependent, not independent. No god arises in a vacuum, really, and thus no god is “bigger than” or “more important” than any other, because all of them rely on at least a few others, even for their very existence.

I’ve met a number of pagans who are true henotheists: they are dedicated to one and only one god, but they readily acknowledge the existence of other gods, and may even join in honoring them on occasion. I don’t see anything wrong with that at all.

I have, however, met a number of what I’d call pagan monotheists, who seem to think that their god is the only “real” god, and all others are false or useless. It was notions like this that lead me to break away from previous groups with which I’ve been involved.

There are also others who seem to adopt a monotheist-monist viewpoint, and think that really any deity worth dealing with is just a form of their own deity. The tendency to adopt a viewpoint like that with some super-syncretistic deities–including Antinous–is also quite disturbing and upsetting. That there is a god called Antinous who is syncretized to Hermes, Dionysos, Apollon, Osiris, Silvanus, Pan, and others does not mean that Antinous “replaces” all of those other gods, any more than the existence of Serapis replaced Osiris, Apis, and Ptah (and others), or Zeus-Ammon replaced Zeus or Ammon, or Hermanubis replaced Hermes or Anubis…and the list goes on. The continued existences of these gods was a cultic reality that can be pointed to quite specifically, including in instances in which, for example, Hermanubis AND Anubis are honored in the same inscription!

The Obelisk of Antinous–often considered one of the most important ancient texts for understanding his cultus–lays out this matter quite perfectly. Antinous does not achieve his deification alone; he has the help of Hapi, Thoth, and Re-Harakhte. THere is also a beautiful set of images in which Antinous goes before various gods and asks for particular blessings, from Ammon and Thoth and others, and is granted those blessings and powers. It is an extremely beautiful and touching set of scenes, in my opinion, and shows that there is no harm in one divine person being dependent on, indebted to, or empowered by another.

Our own practice of polytheism, by its very nature, presupposes this as well. We ask our gods for their favor, and we receive it in various ways. If it were all about independence and self-sufficiency, then none of us would have need to pray to any gods in the first place. We’d just do fine on our own. Clearly, that’s not the case! So, we, and our gods, are like The Beatles, because we “get by with a little help from [our] friends,” eh?

But, back to our friend Loki and his relatives!

Yesterday, I mentioned this phenomenon of scholarly lykotheomonism as it applies to Fenris, Garm, Geri and Freki, and our honorands for today, Skoll and Hati. With Skoll and Hati, though, we get a kind of possible “out” from it, and a hint toward what I’ve suggested in previous days: namely, that Fenris may be the father of at least Hati, in the name given as Hati’s father, Hródhrsvitnir, which means “fame-wolf,” being a likely epithet of that most famous wolf, Fenris. If Fenris is Hati’s father, then, who is Skoll’s? Why not Fenrish again? And, who is their mother? Unlike the idea I adopted with Garm in relation to Geri and Freki, here I’ve gone with something different. Geri and Freki, despite their names meaning “greedy” and the possibility that they are also epithets of Fenris who were individualized, are the “nice” wolves of this group, and thus their mother being Garm (who is fierce, but nicer than Fenris, in my understanding) makes sense to me; that isn’t the case for the mother of Skoll and Hati, however–but then again, we don’t ever get to know her properly because of her fate. So, you’ll see how it goes below…

Just like with the poems for Geri and Freki and Garm, my title here is a translation of what Skoll and Hati seem to mean. Also, as a quick note, Arvakr and Alsvidhr are the horses that pull Sól’s chariot (though you can figure that out from what is below!), and there are also two children in Máni’s chariot, Bil and Hjúki–and, though their story is very interesting for a variety of reasons, I can’t help but see their names and think of True Blood–I know, I’m horrible.

There are some poems to Skoll and Hati, as well as to Sól and Máni generally speaking, in Galina Krasskova’s edited anthology Day Star and Whirling Wheel: Honoring the Sun and Moon in the Northern Tradition, which I’d highly recommend!

As I said at the start of this post, we’re in the time of the dog-days, when the sun is at its hottest, thus I praise Sól today as well; and we’re inching toward the full moon on this Moon-day, so I also praise Máni; and in doing so, I also give praise to the wolves that pursue them across the night, who are the grandchildren of Loki and Angrboda.

Mockery and Hatred

Hail to the grandmother and grandfather
of the pack of wolves whose circuit never ceases,
the pursuers after the chariots of sun and moon.

With howls and barks and words of disdain
the hard-pressed Arvakr and Alsvidhr
flee in fear before Sól’s bright vehicle;

the son of the great devourer
sings his song of poison and derision
throughout the day behind the solar car.

The other chases the silver-lit conveyance
where Bil and Hjúki huddle down in terror
that such relentlessness is at Máni’s heels;

the son of Hródhrsvitnir, the fierce Mánagarmr
begotten from a frenzy of resentment
persists in endless flight after the lunar carriage.

Who was their mother? None knows the name,
for they say it was children or father
who ate her after she whelped the twins.

When their father was fettered, the great fame-wolf,
the two sons were cursed with their continual course
after the ill-favored children of Mundilfari.

At Ragnarok, the beautiful sky-carts will be devoured
by Skoll and Hati, sun-swallower and moon-marauder,
and the two wolves, sated, will be eaten in turn…

To dazzling Sól in her bright chariot,
to Máni in his blue-white-shining ship,
and to Skoll and Hati, grandsons of Loki and Angrboda–hail to all!

*****

Hail to Skoll and Hati, and to their father Fenris, and to Loki and Angrboda, and to Sól and Máni–may their course go on forever!

Those of you who have looked at the updated Calendar for the Aedicula Antinoi will have noticed a “new” holiday today: what I’m calling the Canem Crucis, but which was often called the Supplicia Canum in ancient Rome. For those who have a good eye for Latinate etymologies, you might be able to guess what Canem Crucis means: “crucifixions of dogs.”

No doubt, many of you will find the image above (by Paulette Nenner), and the idea that such a festival existed in ancient Rome, quite disturbing. Admittedly, I find it very disturbing myself, being a person who loves dogs very much indeed. And no, I’m not for a moment suggesting that we re-enact this festival, even in the form of construction paper cut-outs of dogs. But, I think there is a significance to it that needs to be acknowledged.

First, let’s look at the standard guide on Roman holidays: H.H. Scullard’s Festivals and Ceremonies of the Roman Republic, which has this to say about the Supplicia Canum on August 3rd/III. Non. Sext. (p. 170):

A remarkable procession took place annually on this day: one or more dogs were crucified alive on a cross of elder-wood between the temples of Iuventus and Summanus, and were apparently carried round in procession. The alleged reason was that the temple dogs were asleep when the Gauls tried to assault the Capitol. A goose (or geese), adorned with purple and gold, was also carried round in a litter in token of its wakeful and alert predecessors. Since the two temples were near the Circus Maximus, it is a possible guess that this weird procession paraded in the Circus itself.

This needs a bit of further unpacking, I think. When the Gauls were attacking the city of Rome in 390 BCE, it was said that they initially did so by stealth. No guard dogs heard nor barked to warn them, so the above account relates; however, the sacred geese at the temple of Juno Moneta did make a ruckus, which alerted some Romans to the trouble ahead. Juno Moneta, “Juno the Warner,” is thus celebrated as a result, and her festival is in early June (not surprising, since that’s her holy month!). The representative goose sort of oversees the punishment of the dogs on the occasion of the Supplicia Canum, therefore, and is duly honored while the dogs are duly humiliated and executed.

The first time I heard about this occasion was when I read Ben Pastor’s book The Water Thief in about late 2006 or early 2007. Given that I’m into Celtic things, and into dogs and how they play into religion and mythology, the fact that I’d never heard of this event at that point was truly upsetting and disturbing to me…But, I think it makes sense in multiple ways. The Romans, after that run-in with the Gauls in the early 4th c. BCE, then had a complex about the Gauls and fearing them for centuries, which didn’t really end until Julius Caesar conquered Gaul in the mid-first century BCE. They made exceptions to many of their most cherished religious rules in doing so: there was a ritual that was carried out that basically involved human sacrifice of a Gaul on a regular basis after that, despite the general Roman bias against human sacrifice (despite it having been practiced, very likely, in the early days of the city, particularly in things like foundational sacrifices, of which the story of Romulus murdering Remus may be a remnant). How fortunate, then, that to many Romans the Gauls didn’t really qualify as human, and thus were an exception to the proscription…alas.

Perhaps, in an effort to be “more humane” (for some value of that term, however minimal), the focus shifted to this expiatory sacrifice of dogs rather than humans. Dogs standing in for the Gauls makes sense in a variety of ways, including that some Gaulish population names are connected to dogs/canids, and Gaulish warriors (like their Irish counterparts, and those from many other places) were canid-identified. Recall also that dog sacrifice was not uncommon in the ancient world: Roman rituals around both the Lupercalia (February 15th) and Robigalia (April 25th), and in Greek practice, Hekate was regularly propitiated by the sacrifice of (black) dogs.

But, I think there’s a lot more going on here than just an event that is connected to the Gauls–and, their invasion happened in June, most likely…which makes sense given that Juno Moneta is honored at that time of year. I think that, not unlike the seasons observed elsewhere in Europe during this period of the year, this was a kind of propitiation of the gods and natural forces involved in the ravages of heat and disease that could occur during the “dog-days”. So, in that context, and with this particular temporal location, I think it might have been a very old practice indeed, which was then rationalized or given new meaning as a result of the mythologized history involved with the Gaulish sack of Rome. It makes sense, at least to me…

I also have to say, I’m thinking of the Sancti at present, and who should possibly be among them. Not long after it was reported, I found out about the death of Gore Vidal on Tuesday, and when The Wild Hunt did a pagan appreciation of him, my thoughts on the possibility of his addition to the Sancti was strengthened greatly. What, dear readers, do you think of that possibility? In the meantime, there’s another of the Sancti–or, should I say, the Sanctae–who has been on my mind recently, and with very relevant reason. She’s someone I have not spoken about in this forum yet, so I’d like to take the opportunity to introduce you to her.

This beautiful and very sophisticated woman is Patricia Aakhus, and she died earlier this year on May 16, just one day before she would have turned sixty years old. You can read more about her on Wikipedia. But why is she a Sancta, you might wonder? I’ll get to that in a moment. I met her in-person once at an academic conference in 2007, and after hearing her very good paper on a particular Old Irish story and magic, I approached her and asked her if she might consider contributing it to an anthology that I was proposing (and still haven’t been able to quite finish!), to which she agreed happily. As we were speaking, she mentioned she would be presenting at another conference in the near future, and was just about to go to Italy to do some research for the paper involved. When I inquired on what it was, she outlined her research for me, and it had to do with…Antinous! Feeling a bit more brave than I often do in academic contexts, I then said, “Well, there’s this website that I run” (for that was the days when it still existed), and she said “Oh my–I’ve used your website innumerable times! It’s so helpful!” I kept in contact with her intermittently after that, and she was giving papers that are fascinating to me in innumerable ways up until last year. I only found out recently that she had died, for we had not been in touch for a few years…I was actually contacting her to find out whether her paper on Antinous had been published yet, and then when I checked Google to see if she was still at the university she was at previously, I found “Patricia Aakhus obituary” listed in the predictive suggestions, and was totally shocked and stunned, not to mention sad. With diligence, however, I was able to find that her paper had been published, and guess what it’s called?

Sirius Rising 139 AD: Hadrian, Tivoli, and the Tazza Farnese“!

I was able to order it via inter-library loan, and it just arrived a few days ago. I devoured it immediately, and while I am not certain I entirely buy her argument on Antinous within this question, I certainly buy it in relation to Hadrian. The phrase “Master of the Hounds” (which is a translation of the Greek Kynegetikos, “hunter”) in the abstract linked to above is a phrase that no one has used in relation to Antinous before myself, and I’m certain that she got it from me; not to mention that in her article, she also quotes parts of the Obelisk of Antinous at length, and it’s my old translation of it from my old website. I’d like to just give a quick summary of her suggestions, though, and then let you judge for yourself whether you find them persuasive.

She suggests that the Romans were preparing for the date of July 20th, 139 CE with great expectation, because it would have been the end of one several-thousand-year “Sothic Cycle” and the beginning of the next in the Egyptian calendar. Given Hadrian’s touring of Egypt and personal interest in it, he likely would have been looking forward to this, and he missed witnessing it in his lifetime by just over a year when he died in July of 138 CE. However, the architecture and iconography of the “Canopus room” at his Villa seems to have suggested the position of the stars when that date would arrive (which included several statues of Antinous). But, what might be even more possible is that a very beautiful Tazza Farnese or “Farnese cup” might also depict the upcoming position of the Sothic Cycle’s principal celestial features, and that perhaps Hadrian himself had it commissioned for the occasion, rather than it having existed in Ptolemaic or Augustan times, as has often been concluded previously. I find that possibility very likely indeed, after having read her article.

What I’m not entirely convinced of, however, is that the Tazza Farnese, with its central tableau of three figures who are likely Serapis/Nilus, Harpocrates/Osiris/Orion, and Isis/Demeter/Sothis (flanked in the upper right by Gemini/the Dioskouroi) may in fact depict in the Harpocrates/Osiris figure who but Antinous. I’m not seeing enough of the “diagnostic features” of Antinous to take it as a definite and unquestionable example of him, particularly if this was commissioned for Hadrian, who would have known from Antinous sculptures! But, I don’t know…what do you think?

Nonetheless, I think her argument on Hadrian’s commissioning of it for the future occasion of the Sothic Cycle’s “reset” is convincing; and, for heightening the visibility of Antinous and some of the more esoteric aspects of the time and interests of Hadrian, I think Patricia Aakhus deserves to be reckoned as a Sancta, and specifically as a Messenger of Antinous.

To the last matter of the day, which is related to the above matters in a variety of ways, even though it may not appear to be initially. Recently, I found the tablet/notebook on which the majority of the poems from The Phillupic Hymns were written. However, more poems followed in the months and years after that publication in 2008, and while some of them have seen print in various places, and others may in the future, there are a number that are, in essence, “lost poems” that not only haven’t seen much (if any) public attention nor any other eyes but my own, but which even I’ve forgotten and lost track of…which is too bad, because some of them aren’t bad, and would have been good to have included in, say, Devotio Antinoo! One of them in particular is a spectacular loss and missed opportunity in that regard, which was on Julia Balbilla…however, I’ll make sure I have it cued up to share on her holy days in November.

But, what I’d like to do meanwhile is to share a poem that is from The Phillupic Hymns that has some relevance to this occasion, the end of the dog-days. I’d rather like to refer to it as the “least-celebrated poem” of that collection, as I don’t think I’ve heard a single person who has the book or who has read it ever comment on that poem…perhaps with good reason! It’s the penultimate piece in the book, and also the longest poem in the book, and was something of an after-thought in the whole writing process. It’s called “Kynologia,” and it is written (appropriately, perhaps?) in a kind of doggerel verse. I won’t give the whole poem here, but I’ll give those bits of it that are relevant to the various interpretations of Sirius in Greek myth. Without further ado…

Kynologia (excerpts)

…..

I sing of the packs of the hounds of heaven,
the praises of the dogs from underworld’s depths;
Hekate’s innumerable faithful servants,
Hermes’ guardians and guides,
Herakles’ brazen hunters and harriers.

Two celestial dogs I now sing
immortalized in cloudless sky,
who in loyalty to their masters
also once did die.

Maira the first dog of these two,
Ikarios’ fine hound,
who with Erigone his daughter
his slain body they found.

Dionysos, favoring the farmer
taught him the wine’s fine art,
but greedy shepherds did not mix it
with water from the start.

When they lay stuporous and half–dead
the foolish Athenian mobs
put Ikarios to sword and into earth
amidst their drunken sobs.

Erigone was brought to the tree
by the tugging, howling bitch,
who, digging into the disturbed soil
revealed the body in the ditch.

Sad, the girl cried out in anguish
and hung herself from the tree
while Maira leapt down a deep well—
fouled, drunk would never be.

The people of Kios were attacked
by the dog–star’s deadly heats
and Athenian girls hung themselves
to silent dithyrhambic beats.

And Dionysos Epiphanios
as an irresistible youth
made a Priapus of every man there—
scholars say this is the truth!

So by Pythian Apollon’s Oracle
they made the Anthesteria
with swinging maidens and phallic dances
to avert further hysteria.

Now I sing of Orion’s tracker,
Sirius of shining eye
who with his master went to heaven
when Huntress’ arrows did fly.

When Zeus and Hermes together
with Poseidon spilled their seed
on the buried bull–hide bag
the Hunter was born as decreed.

Once the giant youth was blinded
while Oineus made him drunk
and he tried to lay with Merope
in Boetia’s royal bunk.

Walking over the ocean’s waves
with Kedalion shoulder–borne
Orion sought the place where Helios
showed his rays on the morn.

But the hunter, favored of Artemis
was sent a further gift,
a hound with sense and knowledge
to guide on ocean’s drift.

Sirius and Kedalion took him
to the earth’s eastern verge
where Helios’ rays into dark sockets
blindness from him would purge.

Well–favored was the giant hunter
in the virgin goddess’ sight
which put jealousy in Apollon,
engineering his sad plight.

Striding out into the ocean
from Kios where he went blind
with Sirius Orion hunted, strange,
a sea–going white hind.

(Though some instead assert,
I scarce can fathom how,
Orion’s hunt that day
was for a wild white cow.)

He went into such depths of sea
his scalp scarce surface broke,
and Apollon’s keen sight set on it
as the object of his joke.

He dared his sister to fire
an arrow from her bow
to strike the target sea–spot
her unmatched skill to show.

And when arrow impacted skull
and the hunter met his death,
Sirius flared in sea–scalding anger,
unleashing fiery breath.

A scorpion was sent against him
and poisoned with its sting;
scorpion, hunter, and hound were placed
into the celestial ring.

Aristaios, Aktaion’s father
diverted the fiery rays
from the people of Kios’ fields
in summer’s sweaty dog days.

And though in honey he was ample
and well–skilled in hounds’ relief
he could not save his son from his dogs
nor spare his wife that grief.

So the Great Dog stalks the skies
and the Lesser by its side
as Maira sports with Sirius above
like dolphins in the tide.

The hounds play sweet and spirited
’til yearly they recall
the wrongs done to their masters,
whose tales on night the gods install.

I sing of the packs of the hounds of heaven,
the praises of the dogs from underworld’s depths;
Hekate’s innumerable faithful servants,
Hermes’ guardians and guides,
Herakles’ brazen hunters and harriers.

Another hound I will now sing
whose name is yet unknown,
but in hidden images far–flung
his form in stone is shown.

Rock–born Mithras sprang from earth—
never knowing womb’s protection,
generated by Mars and Mercury
and Jove’s seminal projection.

Like bees from bull–hide’s rotting
making honey’s sweetness from stench,
so too would the god’s deeds feed
initiates dining on the bench.

With the aid of Sol Invictus
from his shining rays directed
the way to the bull of heaven
and a cosmic error corrected.

The sword which Mars had given
and Mercury’s raven observing,
a lion from Jove and Saturnine snake
with a cup for blood’s preserving;

the moon in veils was hidden
but gave the god his dog,
fiercely going for the bull’s throat
in the ardor of anger’s fog.

Venus’ bull was brought low,
its head wrenched forcefully back
as its tail sprouted wheat stalks
to address the wide earth’s lack.

And the scorpion from the sands
clenched the loins of the bull—
like so many have known the sting of pain
when passions’ rage is over–full.

Thus with torches like Hekate
Mithras leads the souls to birth,
and with bull’s slaying and bleeding
he replenishes the earth.

At the end of life, completing,
with torch again he directs
the faithful soldier and ardent servant
to the realms virtue erects.

He is Cautes and his twin,
Cautopates Phrygian–capped;
Mithras is the middle god,
refuge when one’s strength is sapped.

And upon the heaven’s canvas
and the roof of hidden caves
this tale is told eternal
of the god of light who saves.

Procyon he is called,
the hound ever at the side
of the undefeated god
and the soldiers’ souls’ guide.

We see in Canis Minor
the ever–helpful hound
who for every hunter god
is an aid and strength most sound.

I sing of the packs of the hounds of heaven,
the praises of the dogs from underworld’s depths;
Hekate’s innumerable faithful servants,
Hermes’ guardians and guides,
Herakles’ brazen hunters and harriers.

But one more hound of heaven
I must sing before I’m done,
Lailaps the hurricane–severe
as these lines onward run.

Forged of fired bronze in the furnace
of Hephaistos the skilled,
Lailaps could not lose his prey’s scent,
nor by wild creature be killed.

Lailaps was fated to catch whatever
he chased across the land,
the Cretan king Minos had him first
against which Procris planned.

Procris from Athenian Kephalos
in unfaithfulness fled,
arriving in Crete, arousing lust
from Minos in his bed.

To prevent her death from Pasiphae’s curse
she drugged Minos with roots,
and obtained from him the hound Lailaps
and inerrant javelin shoots.

She returned to Athens with these gifts
to her husband Kephalos given,
the two were reconciled full well,
Procris no more shame–driven.

The two went hunting with these boons
and Procris in thickets hidden
was mistaken for prey by Kephalos
whose spear–cast was guilt–ridden.

The javelin that couldn’t miss its mark
killed Procris in the wild,
the council of the Areopagus
decreed Kephalos exiled.

In the region of Cadmus’ city Thebes
a vixen was causing strife—
sent by Dionysos in vengeance for Pentheus—
monthly taking a child’s life.

Creon asked Amphitryon,
Herakles’ mortal father,
to enlist the help of Kephalos
to free Thebes from this bother.

The hound Lailaps was requested,
by Kephalos freely lent
and with trepidation in unleashing
against the vixen he was sent.

But the hound could never fail pursuit
nor she–fox could be caught
and in this dilemma great Zeus
for solution was sought.

He turned the two upon the earth
into two lumps of stone
while their souls divine in heaven
were placed on starry throne.

Some say Lailaps is the Great Hound
and the vixen is the Lesser,
while Sirius and Maira others name
constellations’ possessor.

I sing of the packs of the hounds of heaven,
the praises of the dogs from underworld’s depths;
Hekate’s innumerable faithful servants,
Hermes’ guardians and guides,
Herakles’ brazen hunters and harriers.

And in the fertile crescent
where star myths multiply
other hounds are said to race
from below the earth to sky.

Even in Nilotic chambers
with Isis the birth–giver
these hounds, they say, control
the flooding of the river.

Thus of these heroic gods’ dogs
and horrific Hades hound
in their running their tangled leashes
all tales and songs surround.

I sing of the packs of the hounds of heaven,
the praises of the dogs from underworld’s depths;
Hekate’s innumerable faithful servants,
Hermes’ guardians and guides,
Herakles’ brazen hunters and harriers.


*****

May the Dog-Days be hung up for another year!

Antinous and the Slaves

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

An Athenian Slave
An Arcadian Slave
A Macedonian Slave
A Bithynian Slave
A Phrygian Slave
A Thracian Slave
An Egyptian Slave
An Alexandrian Slave
A Gaulish Slave
A British Slave
A Jewish Slave
A Syrian Slave
A German Slave
A Nubian Slave
Antinous

SETTING: Egypt, near Hermopolis; late October, 130 CE. The Imperial Party has made camp along the Nile, where the slaves are in a tent taking a break in the mid-afternoon.

ALEXANDRIAN: Bring water, Phrygian! I thirst in this
cursed Egyptian sun!
EGYPTIAN: Be not so bold,
Alexandrian, for the great god Re
shines on your birthplace as much as on mine,
and even now is the same sun above.
PHRYGIAN: And, though I am the water-bearer, true,
for great Hadrian himself, as he wills,
you are not the Emperor, nor your arms
bent and crippled with age—get your own drink!
ALEXANDRIAN: Such insolence!
BITHYNIAN: Such truth, rather, fellow:
for among slaves, none of us is greater
than any other.
MACEDONIAN: I dispute your claim,
Bithynian, for base are the rude tasks
yon Egyptian and German perform, yet,
the work of the mind is for Macedon,
for Alexandria, and Nubia.
The Jew’s world is pots of fragrant sauces,
the Thracian’s the craft of spear shafts and points,
Athens the voice, Arcadia’s cithara,
and Syria the body’s foul humors.
I am in the business of knowing names.
ALEXANDRIAN: And I in the ways of language, custom…
NUBIAN: While the library is my own fine realm.
GERMAN: The work of a horseman is noble, fool!
GAULISH: And what hunt would be complete without hounds?
THRACIAN: And what warrior’s worth without my spears?
EGYPTIAN: And what would your lives be without my craft?
Stones on the soles of your feet, painful steps!
JEWISH: And what about me? Starving and tasteless
would your lives be without my sweet sauces!
SYRIAN: Indeed, you would not have lives at all, friends,
were it not for my knowledge of physic!
ALEXANDRIAN: Make that into a song, if you can, fool!
ATHENIAN: Give me a moment, and Arcadia
and I will outdo Sappho, and will make
every eye that hears weep with the beauty
of the melody we create!
ARCADIAN: ‘Tis true!
BRITISH: And yet, who among you would be near fit
to be seen by the eyes of Emperor
or basest sewer cleaner without me,
who can make a balding man’s head sublime
and those with fine manes the like of a god?
BITHYNIAN: And yet, to all of you I say this now:
none are as fortunate, in your workings
of mind or hands or tongues, of tools or beasts,
than I, who has the pleasure each new day
to see Antinous rise from his sleep
like the god Men at his fullness at night,
who dries his skin after his bath, and oils
his sweet flesh for wrestling or for soothing…
You all envy me as if I were king!
EGYPTIAN: And his chamber pot, too, don’t forget it!
I may have the smell of stale soles and nails
as I ply my trade, and the tough leather
does not give easily beneath my awl,
but surely this is better than playing
the human stand for the boy’s pissing pot!
SYRIAN: ‘Twould be no bad thing, for the lad’s urine
shows him to be healthy and of good strength,
with no odors that speak ill of his form.
ARCADIAN: Look sharp, fellows! Whether he comes to speak
or to piss in a pot, Antinous
approaches! To your feet, every last one!
[All the SLAVES rise and bow their heads as ANTINOUS enters.]
ANTINOUS: Bithynian, warm some oil for my feet,
and good Briton, apply your hands above—
my head aches as if Athena the wise
were about to erupt from it without
the hammer of Hephaistos assisting!
BITHYNIAN: As you wish, young master.
BRITISH: Yes, my master.
[ANTINOUS sits as the BITHYNIAN SLAVE goes to heat the oil, and the BRITISH SLAVE begins to massage his head.]
PHRYGIAN: Water, sir?
ANTINOUS: Water is a fine thing, true;
but it is not the blue blood of the earth
that I need now, but the blood of the vine.
Praise to Dionysos for his good gift!
[The PHRYGIAN SLAVE fetches wine and pours it for ANTINOUS.]
ALEXANDRIAN: In this land, we call him Osiris, lord.
EGYPTIAN: In this land, YOU call him Osiris, fool—
for Osiris, we have another name…
ALEXANDRIAN: Insolent fool! Your opinion is naught
nor is it wanted, now nor any time!
ANTINOUS: No, wait—this is intriguing to me. Speak,
Egyptian, and tell me now what you know
of the great gods of Egypt and of Greece.
ALEXANDRIAN: [Aside to NUBIAN SLAVE] Theology from a shoemaker—ha!
NUBIAN: Be mindful of your tongue, for Egypt’s men
have known the gods since before Greece was born.
ALEXANDRIAN: And am I not of Egypt just the same?
NUBIAN: And yet, the Nile flows in his veins and mine,
whereas Alpheios is your heart’s river.
ALEXANDRIAN: How dare you! The Ptolemies were my sires!
NUBIAN: And like the sun-parched banks of the river,
the Nile withdrew its gifts even from them.
EGYPTIAN: It is a complicated matter, sir;
I dare not speak of it lest I mistake
some passing notion of my own for truth.
ANTINOUS: And yet, if the truth is your own, sandler,
then there is some worth to it.
EGYPTIAN: But, for me;
for you, what worth is there in hearing it?
ANTINOUS: The gods speak to each of us in diverse
manners, and to know their speech to others
increases my knowledge of all the gods.
ALEXANDRIAN: An interesting notion, young master;
but if I may, what do the gods’ speeches
to your own ears encompass? Tell us true.
ANTINOUS: I would tell you truly, my good wordsmith,
but the spirit of melancholy sways
each faculty of my soul presently.
SYRIAN: Melancholia! That black distemper!
I may have some leeches to drain the bile…
ANTINOUS: Leave your leeches, physician; this will pass.
The spirit will depart when the wine god
has made his abode in my soul this hour.
BRITISH: What has given you this distemper, lord?
ANTINOUS: It is nothing, barber; Arcadian—
ply your fingers upon the strings at once,
I would have music to soothe my senses.
[The ARCADIAN SLAVE begins to play the cithara.]
ATHENIAN: What song would you have me sing, my master?
ANTINOUS: Though your throat is the match for any Muse,
I pray you not sing for me on this day;
words have troubled me, and words cannot heal
what has been done.
NUBIAN: The arts of Thoth are mine,
good master, and perhaps I can help you
if only you tell us what words have struck
your soul with this weight of the bad spirit.
ANTINOUS: Cook, surely you have some soup now boiling
that might restore good thoughts to my vexed mind?
JEWISH: Only a humble broth of chicken’s flesh,
the feast for slaves, but the filth of a lord…
ANTINOUS: I was fed on humbler soups to my health—
every man here, join me in this soup feast.
[All the SLAVES look astonished.]
ALEXANDRIAN: Truly, sir?
ANTINOUS: Most certainly—are we not
all men who share this earth beneath the gods?
NUBIAN: If I may, my lord, you are just barely
on the verge of manhood yourself, and we
are but servile beings; to call our like “men”
is to give us dignities we cannot,
by law nor custom, lay any claims on.
ANTINOUS: This is the very sort of talk which brought
the cursed kakodaimon to my mind!
NUBIAN: Forgive me, my lord—even punish me!
ANTINOUS: I do not wish to inflict punishment
on you, nor anyone, on this fine day.
Instead, take up your bowls and eat with me!
JEWISH: Is it your command that we eat with you?
ANTINOUS: No! Don’t you see? This matter of “servant”
and “master” has become full tiresome!
It is not my own will by which I want
each of you to take up your spoons and bowls:
join me in my feast of slaves if YOU want,
but not because I have forced you to eat.
[The SLAVES begin to look around at each other, but then the THRACIAN takes up a bowl and spoon, followed by the GAUL, the GERMAN, the BRITON, and the MACEDONIAN, until all of the slaves, with the ALEXANDRIAN last, take up their bowls and spoons, being served by the JEWISH SLAVE.]
ANTINOUS: There! Now was that so difficult, my friends?
ALEXANDRIAN: Friends?!? Are we now your friends in truth, my lord?
ANTINOUS: I have said it; if you weren’t, I would not!
Now, we must give thanks to the gods for this
food, for our lives and our fortunes, both good
and ill, and for this day when we are friends.
ALEXANDRIAN: Except the Jew.
ANTINOUS: And to the Jewish god
I also give thanks for this good cook’s skills!
JEWISH: I will pray to The Name on your behalf.
ANTINOUS: And I to my gods for you, good soup-smith!
ALEXANDRIAN: [Aside to NUBIAN] Now there’s a word for the lexical scribes!
NUBIAN: Or for the poets, Alexandrian.
BRITISH: But, my lord, you have still not informed us
of what brought you to this state and to us.
ANTINOUS: It was this very sort of talk and trash,
of slavery and servitude and will.
A Roman Senator came to the court
on some business of state, and at the side
of Hadrian I rested, dozing off,
sun above drenching me with drowsiness,
when the Senator made a snide remark
and called me a “slave” to the Emperor.
It’s true, I’m not of high nobility,
but my people of Arcadian stock,
descendants of Antinoë herself,
first settled in Bithynian landscapes
and made their lives there for generations…
BITHYNIAN: Yes; but Romans have resented our land
ever since the rumor was spread: Caesar
was cinaedus to King Nicomedes.
ANTINOUS: And if Arcadia is backwater
compared to great Greece, itself disparaged
by old families of resentful Rome,
then Bithynia is more barbaric.
THRACIAN: By Gebeleizis, I would break that fool
for offending you, and for offending
the lands and peoples of Thrace, too, besides!
ANTINOUS: I appreciate your sentiment, friend,
but it is not necessary. Instead,
the Emperor bade him revise his words,
to think again about what he had said;
the Senator sneered, and chuckled aloud,
looking directly at me as he said
“Even if his will were his own, would he
have said no to the Emperor of Rome?”
The Senator knows nothing of me, nor
does he know the heart of great Hadrian.
If I had said “no” to the Emperor,
I would still be in Bithynia’s land.
GERMAN: One cannot break a horse unless it gives
its consent to the rider who rides it.
GAULISH: Nor does a hound trust every hound-master.
ANTINOUS: But I am no horse nor hound…or am I?
GAULISH: Forgive me, my lord, I did not mean to…
GERMAN: We would never suggest you are a beast…
ANTINOUS: And yet, no matter what speech or reason
we have, are we anything but creatures
of plant and animal natures at base?
What reason and will we have from the gods,
but the body’s growth and appetites still
are ruled by gods whose names we do not know.
JEWISH: How is your soup, master? Do you like it?
ANTINOUS: I do, my friend, it suits me well today!
JEWISH: More, sir?
ANTINOUS: Only if you will eat your own—
I will not have starving servants with me!
[The JEWISH SLAVE, somewhat reluctantly, takes up a bowl of soup for himself and begins to eat.]
THRACIAN: If I may, my lord, how can servants be
regarded as servants as well as friends?
ANTINOUS: It is true—freedom’s a necessity
where friendship is concerned, it can’t be forced.
THRACIAN: And how, then, would we all become free friends?
PHRYGIAN: There was another Thracian who asked that…
ATHENIAN: Yes, Spartacus of old; I am writing
a song about him, but I dare not sing
it in the presence of Romans—they’d fear
I was inciting a new rebellion,
and would have me food for lions swiftly!
ANTINOUS: I have fought lions, and slain them.
EGYPTIAN: True, sir.
ANTINOUS: And that reminds me, Egyptian: new shoes
for everyone here. The ones you made me
most recently were so fine that my feet
felt as if they trod upon rose petals
though I was tracking through the desert sands.
With such shoes, any slave would be as strong
as Spartacus in his great victories.
SYRIAN: So generous, sir! But are you certain?
Your shoes are made of Parthian leather,
a costly material, with golden
threads, and lapis lazuli studs as well!
Surely, we do not deserve such fine shoes!
ANTINOUS: Your feet are your foundations just as well
as my own or the Emperor’s; therefore,
you deserve to walk in such enjoyment.
EGYPTIAN: You are far too generous, good master!
ANTINOUS: Think nothing of it. I would do as much
for any friend if it were in my means,
and it is, thus it is my own pleasure.
[A trumpet sounds in the distance.]
ANTINOUS: Another state dinner…gods deliver
me from the tedium of more speeches!
BITHYNIAN: There is enough time, perhaps, for a bath
before you must brave that trial, my master.
ANTINOUS: Yes, a nice bath—perhaps that will relieve
the last of my strain over those poor words
the Senator spoke to me earlier.
But first, a question to all of you here:
who is the oldest, and who the youngest?
JEWISH: I have forty-four summers on my back.
SYRIAN: And I fifty.
ALEXANDRIAN: And myself fifty-five.
MACEDONIAN: For every year of my life, I have learned
four hundred names and faces, though I am
not needed by the Emperor himself—
but the Empress and her attendants think
my skills are worth keeping me around yet:
full twenty-three thousands and six hundreds
of names I know clearly without straining…
guess my age, more senior than my colleague.
NUBIAN: Both math and letters are my sciences,
for Thoth is their one originator:
you are fifty-nine, but I am sixty-
seven, a veteran of libraries.
PHRYGIAN: Then there is none older than you, good friend.
I, on the other hand, am young—no more
than thirty years have passed since I was born.
ARCADIAN: And I am only twenty-nine, younger.
THRACIAN: Twenty-eight—four sevens, a favored age.
ATHENIAN: Twenty-six—two thirteens, nothing special.
GAULISH: Twenty years and five is my own age now.
GERMAN: Twenty-four is the sum of years I have.
EGYPTIAN: And twenty-three is my age, younger still.
BITHYNIAN: Twenty-two is my age, which I believe
makes me the youngest of this present lot.
BRITISH: Not true, Bithynian, for just eighteen
is my age.
ANTINOUS: Amazing! Elders to youths,
not a generation is absent here
from the time of Nero to Hadrian!
NUBIAN: Indeed, I remember Nero’s strange reign,
and the destruction of the Jews’ Temple.
JEWISH: Alas, I never saw it, neither did
my own mother and father.
ANTINOUS: Memory
is made by words on scrolls and stones, my friend.
You have lived lives of good service, each one,
some lengthy, others short, and yet more life
can remain to each of you. I pray now
that we shall be friends for as long as Fate
will allow us to be in each others’
presence upon the body of Gaia!
[ANTINOUS exits, with the BITHYNIAN SLAVE following him closely.]
JEWISH: Such a nice boy!
EGYPTIAN: And so generous!
THRACIAN: Yes,
what an odd afternoon this has just been!
ATHENIAN: If this were a fable of Aesop, or
even a scene from some minor epic
of Homer or Antimachus, no one
would believe what had happened within it!
NUBIAN: But imagine the debates that would span
hour upon hour in libraries from here
to Ephesus to Rome to further off
in Londinium, if indeed it has
a library at all!
BRITISH: Now, now, Nubie—
the governor of Britannia has
three full shelves of books! I’ve seen them myself!
ARCADIAN: My song is now done, perhaps I can eat
the soup that was a gift from gods and men—
our master Antinous, and a Jew
who knows his way around a chicken!
SYRIAN: Eat well, citharode: there is none better
than such a soup to restore one’s spirits.
GAULISH: I would prefer a stew of boar’s meat, though…
GERMAN: As would I, and one I had well run down
upon my own steed, in Germania.
PHRYGIAN: Still, our young master’s words were like water
in soothing a parched throat after a trek
from the Nile to Zeus-Ammon’s oracle.
ALEXANDRIAN: I have made that trek, and many more, too…
MACEDONIAN: And I have remembered the names of men
amounting to legions, and can spout them
as fluid as the Nile’s inundation.
[A short pause. The BITHYNIAN SLAVE comes back, rushing in, panting.]
MACEDONIAN: What is it?
BITHYNIAN: It is…
ALEXANDRIAN: Say it, fellow! Speak!
BITHYNIAN: I cannot believe it…
NUBIAN: There is little
that we elders have not heard nor read. Speak.
BITHYNIAN: This, you have neither heard nor read before!
MACEDONIAN: Then, by the gods, say what it is you know!
SYRIAN: Do not rush him! Some strange spirit within
has taken hold and will not let his breath
be calmed. What spirit is it?
BITHYNIAN: Osiris…
NUBIAN: Osiris? Are you sure?
EGYPTIAN: Not Osiris;
his festival has just passed, and this breath
is not the breath of Osiris’ presence.
ALEXANDRIAN: Then, it may yet be Serapis instead…
PHRYGIAN: I do not think so. Here, take some water.
[The BITHYNIAN SLAVE drinks.]
BITHYNIAN: No, not Serapis either.
THRACIAN: Then I know:
Sabazios.
ATHENIAN: You mean Dionysos?
THRACIAN: A god whose role is known, and yet whose name
is not as important—Sabazios
to some, Dionysos to some others…
BITHYNIAN: It is only Eleutheros, that god,
be he Dionysos, Sabazios,
Serapis, or Osiris…WE ARE FREE!
ALL SLAVES: What?!?
BITHYNIAN: As Antinous came to the bath, lo,
he loosened his garments, and I took them,
folded them, and found within a large purse
filled with a talent or more of gold coin.
He said to take that purse, and then purchase
the freedom of every man here, each one!
He then bade me not to stay and help him,
for it would not befit a free man’s state
to wait in servile fashion with a towel.
I could not keep back the tears in my eyes
as I saw him descend into the bath.
He smiled at me as I stood there weeping,
and he said one more thing to me: “Next time
you see the curve of my buttocks, you’ll be
in the public bath a free man, my friend.”
He turned his back to me as his fair form
descended into the pure Nile waters
in the bath, and with a flick of his hand
he dismissed me for the last time a slave.
PHRYGIAN: Produce the purse, or this is all a jest.
[The BITHYNIAN SLAVE produces the purse, just as he had described it.]
THRACIAN: Then it is true?
JEWISH: We are free men?
BITHYNIAN: WE ARE!!!
EGYPTIAN: By the gods, Ma’at is pleased with the boy!
MACEDONIAN: And Dionysos is praised!
NUBIAN: As is Thoth,
for this is his city upon the Nile.
ALEXANDRIAN: Then there is no time to waste! Let us go
and tell the Emperor’s major domo
of the good fortune which has come to us!
ARCADIAN: But wait! Who will do the tasks of the court
in our places?
THRACIAN: There will be others still:
a great empire is never short of slaves.
PHRYGIAN: May we always remember this good night!
BITHYNIAN: And may we always praise Antinous!
[Exeunt.]

FINIT. DEO ANTINOO GRATIAS.

One of the things that is both good and bad about reconstructionism as a working methodology is that oftentimes, one has to “go back” and revise one’s earlier statements or opinions on some matter because one subsequently has access to more information on said matter. I’ve found I’ve had to do that repeatedly with things in relation to Antinous, often with very good and happy results. Today, I’d like to just mention one further such topic that I’ve since found out a slight bit more about, and will be following up further with in the near future.

Certain other groups out there, under the bad influences of certain parties, have put about the incorrect information that Antinous was syncretized to Mithras. I have nothing against Mithras, personally–in fact, he’s quite a cool deity in many respects, and is super-syncretistic himself, just like Antinous is, and I’ve studied a fair bit about him for someone who isn’t personally devoted to him. My position on this still accords with all we know of history, I’m happy to say…

And yet, there is a connection of sorts between them, even though it isn’t a syncretistic one. The location and context from which it comes is one that is, in certain respects, not surprising, particularly given the further insights into other mystery traditions which that same context has provided.

As you may have guessed (although, in fairness, you probably didn’t!), the context is the hero-shrine to Antinous located at the Arcadian villa of Herodes Attikos. Herodes Attikos was a hierophant of the Eleusinian Mysteries, and reliefs showing Herodes and Polydeukion from that same location have suggested to scholars recently that they had some involvement in Orphic mystery traditions as well.

Among the other statuary and such found at that site, and in particular in the hero-shrine that was once dedicated to Antinous, are statue fragments of Mithras. They do not show Antinous as Mithras, by any stretch of the imagination, and thus my position and mention above about syncretism, Mithras, and Antinous still stands; and yet, there was a connection between them in some fashion for Herodes and his associates, such that they were both included in the same shrine. (This reminds me of the very fine and commanding Serapis head that I was able to see in person in London, which was found in the London Mithraeum. Just as many gods might end up in a shrine to Mithras, so too, it seems, could many different gods end up in a shrine to Antinous…don’t you just love super-syncretism?!?)

What also intrigues me about this is that many people in the period of late antiquity were well aware that Mithras was a Persian god in origin, and even though at times during this period parts of what would be considered Persia had been conquered by the Romans, it was a place of shifting political fortunes for much of that period as well. Herodes Attikos was an Athenian, but also identified strongly as a Marathonian (which was the location of his principal villa), and had several shrines for the heroes of Marathon either restored or created during his lifetime as well–with Marathon being the location of the ultimate and final defeat of the Persians’ repeated attempts of invasion upon Greece. Why would a good Marathonian, therefore, be involved in a religion of a supposed Persian god? And yet, there was his statue, in Herodes’ villa in Arcadia, once upon a time…

The book that has more information on some of these matters is one I have not yet been able to put my hands on, and it’s in Greek…I hope to be able to source it somehow; my further information, however, comes from a German book by the same author from about five years earlier. I’ll have more to say on this when I know more about it!

I’ve just been able to add the following article to my ongoing Antinous Bibliography; I heard about it in 2010, and was only able to get a hold of it recently:

Gil H. Renberg, “Hadrian and the Oracles of Antinous (SHA Hadr. 14.7); with an Appendix on the So-Called Antinoeion at Hadrian’s Villa and Rome’s Monte Pincio Obelisk,” Memoirs of the American Academy in Rome 55 (2010), pp. 159-198.

I knew a bit about what this article would contain, and thus looked forward to it; and, I generally look forward to any serious academic article on Antinous, which might in some way shed light on his life, his cultus, and other things associated with him. While I’m glad I got this one (despite the relatively large amount of trouble I had to go through getting it), and am glad that it is a serious work of scholarship that does not make many of the mistakes of the more popular Antinous-related scholarship (some of which were noted recently), I have to say I’m also a little bit disappointed. One doesn’t often look forward to reading something for two years without some let-down after such a long period (or, in some cases, longer and a much larger let-down!), but instead because what I’ve read reminds me just how tentative, speculative, and ultimately conjectural almost everything we know about Antinous happens to be.

You might be able to tell from the title–especially if you have the Historia Augusta handy–that a major matter in this article is regarding the establishment of Antinous’ cultus and the oracles that occurred in relation to it. Renberg’s assertion–which is in line with some of his wider work, which I hope gets completed in the near future–is that rather than the statement in the HA on Hadrian “issuing oracles” and being the source of the oracular pronouncements attributed to Antinous, instead it may be that Antinous himself was issuing the oracles and Hadrian was receiving them through dreams. Renberg’s wider work is on dream incubation and other dream-related practices in late antiquity, which has relevance for the cultus of many deities (Asklepios, Serapis, and Nodons among them, plus many others). That is a fascinating suggestion in and of itself, and certainly is not only indicated by a line from the Obelisk of Antinous (which is the inspiration for the dream incubation ritual that will take place at PantheaCon in relation to Antinous next month), but which has inspired and been enacted in a great deal of my own work, and many of my interactions with Antinous as a god. So, of course, this is of HUGE interest to me…

He also suggests, at one point, that the god who was obliterated by damage at the top of the Obelisk on one side may have been Ptah. One further intriguing (and rather re-assuring, at least for me personally!) suggestions he makes about the line regarding Antinous sending healing dreams to the “needy ones” is not just people in need of them, but specifically people who were financially challenged and could not afford medical attention–since that’s often been my own situation, that’s sort of nice!

What Renberg’s contention in relation to this is, however, seems less likely to me. He suggests that it was Hadrian’s dreams of Antinous that prompted his cultus, and not simply the deification-by-drowning phenomenon that occurs in Egypt when someone becomes a hsy by drowning in the Nile. Renberg marshalls a great deal of evidence which indicates that some people set up tombstones, or even small shrines, to deceased individuals who appeared to them in dreams, and some of them even said they were heroes or even gods in that process. One such individual is Marcus Lucceius Nepos, who appeared to his in-law Sextus Onussianus Com[...] in a dream:

Renowned kinsman, why do you lament my
having been lifted away to the heavenly stars? Cease your weeping for a god,
so that your loyal affection, ignorant that I have been received into the celestial abode,
does not put you in mourning and your sorrow afflict a divinity.
For I shall not sadly descend to the Tartarean waters,
nor as a shade be carried across the Acheronian depths,
nor propel by oar the dark vessel,
and I shall not fear you, Charon, terrifying in appearance,
nor will ancient Minos pass judgment on me or in the funereal
places shall I wander, and I will not be hemmed in by the rivers.
Arise, bear tidings to my mother that she should not night and day
bewail me, as the mourning Attic mother does Itys.
For holy Venus has ordained that I know nothing of the silent ones’ abode
and has brought me into the glorious realm of heaven.

So, rather interesting, eh?

And yet, what I find problematic about this is that it leaves a large set of questions on what the timeline of the “creation” of Antinous’ cultus was: did it happen immediately after his drowning and death, which therefore Hadrian would have known about? Since we know that there were celebrations for Hadrian and Antinous in Herakleia Pontica by the end of 130, that sort of problematizes the “uncertain timeline” question that Renberg suggests. One of the other figures closely associated with Antinous’ deification by drowning is the young woman, Isidora, who had a small temple and was likewise a hsy, but she appeared to her parents as a kind of apotheosized nymph some time after her death. Because of the lack of immediacy in this case, likewise Renberg suggests the same for Antinous’ appearance to Hadrian in a dream.

Now, of course, much of this depends on one’s reading of the HA, and the way that Renberg parses eum in the text for Antinous rather than Hadrian is, up to this point, novel. But, the logical positivism that he engages in with the rest of the article, and especially in the appendix, also raises many questions. He puts a great deal of emphasis on evidence from Christian literature about Antinous’ cultus, including the remarks of Epiphanios of Salamis and Clement of Alexandria that Antinous was buried in Antinoöpolis, and that the work done at Hadrian’s Villa in the last few years which has resulted in the suggestion that the “new temple” there is the Antinoeion and the burial place of Antinous, with the Obelisk of Antinous having been there originally (which would also be my contention) being an overstatement rather than a sure thing. Nothing at the Antinoeion, he argues, makes it certain that it was Antinous’ burial place, nor even that it was a shrine to Antinous, since many of the Egyptianizing statues from the Villa were found elsewhere. (He also says that only in Antinoöpolis was Antinous honored as Osirantinous, and thus the Egyptianizing statues from the Villa do not portray him as Osiris.) He furthermore states that the burial place was much more likely to have been Antinoöpolis, and that it was the site of the original Obelisk, and it was moved from there (though he also suggests that the one now in Rome might be a copy of the original that was in Antinoöpolis), using amongst other pieces of evidence for his conclusions that most eponymous hero-shrines for foundational heroes in Greek cities are buried in the city, and not elsewhere.

At this stage, I have to state that one of the reasons that I think the Obelisk was at Hadrian’s Villa, that it was the Antinoeion, and that it was Antinous’ burial place, is that practical concerns seem to be the most logical: while it’s possible to move an obelisk from Egypt to Rome, it’s not easy. The rectangular rather than more angular design of the Obelisk of Antinous, and the irregularity of the hieroglyphic linguistic usage on it, both suggest to me that it was done outside of Egypt rather than within it, by people who were familiar with the idioms of the art but not traditionally trained in them, and by someone with a “provinicial” grasp of Middle Egyptian rather than someone in the native country. The fact that the Obelisk keeps stating that “A city was build there called Antinoöpolis” suggests to me an absence from the actual location as well; and, for my own logical processes, it makes the most sense to say that “Antinous’ body rests here, in the border fields of the princeps of Rome” means Tivoli/Tibur at Hadrian’s Villa, on the outskirts of Rome, rather than in a metaphorical outlying province of Rome. The far-more-complex suggestion that if it wasn’t moved from Antinoöpolis, then it might be a copy of one that was originally there, seems a little unnecessary as well to my own standards. And, if Ptah is on the top of the Obelisk in the damaged area, then it makes even more sense that it was in an Antinoeion at Hadrian’s Villa, because in that very area they found statues of Ptah.

Further, do we know that the Christian evidence that Renberg puts so much stock in was reliable? They lied about and misunderstood many things about a variety of polytheistic cults; why not Antinous’ cult as well? Do we know for certain that Epiphanios or Clement were ever in Antinoöpolis? If they weren’t, how do we know their informants knew what they were talking about either? Was there a cenotaph there, which may even have included a “ship burial” as Epiphanios reports, but which doesn’t even have a body to go with it? Lots of questions seem to linger on this matter, so I think the case is far less settled than Renberg might suggest.

So, as I said, there’s several interesting things in this article, and a great deal to think further about and to follow up on in greater detail in the future (including hunting down some of the further sources he cites). However, at the same time that I don’t personally buy lots of his suggestions from an historical viewpoint–and thus neither do I from a theological viewpoint (though the two don’t have to line up–see: foundation of Wicca!)–I am also further reminded of what shaky grounds we rest upon in making any of our choices about “what really happened” as far as Antinous’ life, death, and cultus are concerned.

What do you all think?

While we saw the above image a few weeks ago due to its frequent confusion with Asklepios, today we celebrate it as the image was intended: as an image of Antinous syncretized to the Agathos Daimon. We celebrate it today due to an Alexandrian feast for the Agathos Daimon that took place on this day during Roman times.

While the Agathos Daimon was the tutelary deity of Alexandria, an individual agathos daimon was like an individual’s “guardian angel,” to some extent, or their personal (in Roman terms) genius, the latter of which was often portrayed in serpentine form. Thus, the connection of the agathos daimon, both personally and as a deity, to snakes makes a lot of sense, and it is thus that the Agathos Daimon (in both divine and personal senses) forms the “base” of the Serpent Path “snake side” glyph (and if you want to know more about that, you might have to buy the book on it!).

So, being I’m a syncretist at the best of times, and almost at all times if and when possible (!?!), I’m in a particular mind about a few things I said in relation to the Serpent Path. I remarked that when the topic of “mysticism” and Antinous comes up, there is an important and crucial difference in this polytheistic system and the (generally) monotheistic or monistic views of other religions. When one grows in love and devotion to Antinous, one does not ever “become” Antinous, nor become “united” to him (except for in temporary erotic moments, which do not equate to “true” union, but only the feeling of dissolved boundaries that many people experience when in erotic bliss with their partner/s); instead, one becomes divine oneself…eventually. While Antinous himself had his first syncretism with Osiris, and became Osirantinous or Antinosiris–in good and standard Egyptian justified and/or deified dead tradition–we should understand that as a situation of syncretism rather than of union or complete identification. So, in becoming better and better, and more evolved and developed, along the path of deification, I may eventually be “Lupus-Antinous” (or even “Antinolupus”!).

It’s not a situation of me being his “vessel,” in the way that many of those who have mediumistic or oracular practices attempt to have in the service of their gods; nor is it the “failed” or partial and incomplete overshadowing of one’s own personality by a deity, which often leads to the phenomenon of “horse-talk” and other such potential abuses of this sort of practice and the theological bases for it. Instead, syncretism is understood to be a structural part of this theology, and a form of mysticism in itself–not only amongst the gods and other divine beings (who syncretize with each other quite freely and happily), but also syncretism between oneself and various divine beings. I suspect this happens an awful lot more than we realize, with many gods and our ancestors, totem spirits, land spirits, archetypes, and other varieties of divine being, particularly when we are “at our best” in given endeavors. I’m sure you can name moments that didn’t involve “fully trancing” a deity or other divine being in which you felt a profound presence of a divine being influencing or guiding your actions; or, sometimes, we’re not even aware of it, and instead someone else points it out to us afterwards. I think those “moments of inspiration” might be, on occasion, far more than that–they are moments of syncretism, which can become more and more permanent and long-standing as they continue to occur, almost to the point of near-full identification. (Jim Morrison and Dionysos come to mind here…)

So, in a further procedural (rather than theological) syncretistic approach, you get my post title here, adapted from the Hindu tradition of greeting others with hands clasped together, a small bow of reverence, and saying Namaste, which is often translated as “the god in me greets the god in you” (though with an assumption of “God” often being implicit in such statements–but, again, I’m not a monist, I’m a polytheist [!], and any number of such gods might have been or could be with any given individual at any moment they happen to be greeting someone else). For our purposes, thus, it might be more appropriate for us to say, in honoring our own agathos daimon as well as the possibility that we may all become syncretisms of Antinous at some future point, “The Antinous in me greets the Antinous in you.” My Antinous is not the same as yours, but that’s all right, because none of them are…

And, that inward turn might in fact be a very appropriate and important one at the moment, as we are in the last stages of the transformation of Antinous the Liberator into Antinous the Navigator–the form of Antinous that is sometimes the most outwardly-focused, the fighter, the activist, becoming the most inscrutable but influential and guiding form of Antinous that watches from a distance and gently nudges or points the way here and there. It is a move from focusing on the outward expression of energy toward the inner, the move from changing one’s external circumstances to changing oneself. It’s not an excuse for radical solipsism or navel-gazing, by any stretch of the imagination: outward things are still important, and will always be, but inward transformation is equally important even alongside transforming the outward.

In speaking of syncretism, snakes, Agathos Daimon and Osiris and Dionysos, and so forth (!?!), of course I can’t help but be reminded of Antinous’ elder colleague in super-syncretism: Serapis. Here, we see him syncretized to the Agathos Daimon as well, and perhaps that’s a way we can think of ourselves in relation to all of this: a snake body with our own head…or, Antinous body (or head) with our own head (or body)…and rejoice or lament as you may see fit with such an image!

But, of course, mention of Serapis, and of Osiris, brings into focus the “missing term” in those syncretisms as well: Apis, who is also syncretized to Antinous. Apart from his bovine form with which we’re all familiar, Apis was also the herald of Ptah, and it’s also appropriate to turn our attention to him as well today…

…Because in Neos Alexandria, as well as here at the Ekklesía Antínoou, it is the Festival of Ptah Protecting the Winged Golden Disc. [Incidentally, I love this image of Ptah...and if anyone can make me that outfit, I shall be forever grateful!...though I'd have to lose some weight in order to fit in it, probably...] While phrasing the name of the festival that way makes me think of the Aten, the visible solar disk so beloved of Akhenaten, of course we can think of it as Re, or as any other solar deity that we may prefer. In the description of the festival from Neos Alexandria’s calendar:

Offerings are made to Ptah and Re-Herakhti. A winged disk symbol is created, blessed in the name of the gods, and set up over one’s door to give protection for the year to come.

In the midst of all this, I am also reminded of how important Ptah was, apparently, to Hadrian, as there are many statues of Ptah which came from Hadrian’s Villa. While some of them may or may not have been found in close association to the Antinoeion (and, despite arguments to the contrary, I still find it compelling that the area identified as such over the last decade is, in fact, the Antinoeion), nonetheless, the web of associations between these other deities and Antinous, and these statues of Ptah from Hadrian’s Villa, compel me to see more of a connection between Antinous and Ptah (and, as the Obelisk of Antinous says, Antinous’ adopted divine father, Re-Harakhte), with Ptah being the protector of Re and thus the “grandfather-protector” of Antinous, for the present purposes. Therefore, hail to them all!

Khaire Agathe Daimon!
Dua Ptah!
Dua Re-Harakhte!
Khaire Khaire Antinoe!

We are, at present, at the beginning of the period of the year presided over by Antinous the Navigator. This aspect of Antinous will tarry with us for two more months and two more weeks after that, to give way to the next aspect. Most often, we think of Antinous the Navigator as that more apophatic, transcendent, and not-quite-as-present aspect of Antinous that watches and guides from a distance, occasionally “checking in” with us in atypical forms like signs in nature, dreams, and other uncanny events. Antinous the Navigator provides moments of opportunity for minor course-corrections in our journey of life. In other words, Antinous the Navigator is the aid to human souls in this life, and their guide within it: a psychopomp for those still alive as much, if not more than, a psychopomp for those who have already died.

And yet, I don’t think that’s all there is to him, and to his role as Navigator, as my subject line here conveys in fewer words than I’m able to provide in English to indicate the same thought.

I didn’t have anything in particular today I wanted to write about, but I had a feeling that reading about a little bit would remedy that, and I wasn’t disappointed. As a result of this post by my friend Soli, on various different boundary gods (e.g. Hermes, Hekate, Wepwawet) and their presences in her life, I was making a comment and ended up saying the following:

Antinous is such a deity as well, to various extents–although, in some ways, being he’s as super-syncretistic as he is, he’s also not just a psychopomp for humans and human souls, he’s also a theopomp, as it were…!?!

It’s one of those situations where I didn’t really know what it was I was saying until I got into the middle and end of the sentence…and that got me thinking.

Antinous has a great deal to do with syncretism, not only in the lived and attested realities of his cultus, but also in terms of the phenomenon itself. He’s one of the most recent and most youthful examples of the “god of syncretism” or the super-syncretistic deity, which is shared with Serapis, Sabazios, and a small handful of other gods (and those two are ones which he has multiple lineal connections with in a variety of ways, and with whom he shares a whole pile of syncretistic common deity-nominators!). This makes him a good connection between humans and a wide variety of deities, and I’ve often described this as him being the host of a god-party, where he says “It’s great to meet you! Have you met these other deities yet?” We all know the drill there…

And yet, in a process theology model, he doesn’t just function as a human-become-god who then helps other humans to connect with the gods. I think we can also say that his super-syncretism, especially because of his former mortal status, has become a way for the gods to connect with humans as much as a way for the humans to connect with the gods. He is not only a psychopomp for humans, but in essence a theopomp for the gods to be able to contact humans more easily.

A gate separates two places from one another, and the gate-keeper can allow people on one side in or out, and likewise on the other side. We all too often think of these things from only the human viewpoint, as if the only ones who want to get into contact with divine matters are we humans. And yet, as the experience of many of us has proven over the years, the gods very often actually desire to have contact with humans, and may wish to seek out such contact. Those contacts don’t just “happen”: even for the superlatively powerful gods, there are channels via which they occur. Some attempt to contact humans directly, and that can certainly work. But, using a “touchstone” like Antinous as a super-syncretistic deity can perhaps help them get into the contact with the humans they’re seeking just as much as Antinous can help humans get into contact with the gods they wish to engage with in relationships. Antinous, as a former human, understands humans better than most gods do; and, Antinous being a god understands divinity better than most humans are able to at present.

In other words, it works both ways.

Some might object to such a thought: if the gods are so powerful, why do they need someone like Antinous to get into contact with humans better? Many of the same people who will argue along those lines, though, might also maintain that the gods are radically different than humans, and any of our attempts to understand the gods are not only limited and fallible, but also utterly feeble and not up to the task. If the latter is the case, then how in the world can the gods get in touch with us at all without some sort of intermediary or moderating force to translate their immense numinousness into information that will not overwhelm the human mind and senses? They can’t without some sort of intermediate force.

There are far too many people having mystical experiences that are “indescribable” and that don’t really lead anywhere, now and throughout history, which is the easiest thing to fake in the world–and, to whose benefit? The gods who inspired those experiences, who don’t often get much more devotional attention as a result of them? The humans who go “Oh, that must have been XYZ deity, but other than that, I can’t describe it” and as a result can’t say much more about it other than “well, that happened”? The spiritual communities who hear such experiences and go, “Yeah…so, this indescribable feeling is just like those of every other mystic in every other tradition,” and think thus that monism and apophatic experience is the only sign of “true” mysticism? Yes, an awful lot of that has gone on, and still goes on, but what good does it ultimately do outside of promoting monism and apophatic experience as a sole good unto itself? These things may be fine for Zen practitioners, but as polytheists, that’s never going to be as useful, workable, or appealing for us as for those who are interested in Zen. Many of us have lost the traditions (or, more accurately, have not had access to such traditions because they have been suppressed or destroyed) of discernment and attention training that would allow these experiences to be translated into something more useful to polytheistic peoples. Let’s try to get some of that back…

And, for those who are interested, I think Antinous is one way in which such things can come about again.

I don’t always know what I’ll get with my experiences of Antinous; but, I often know that “at least something” will come, and while it is often entirely by surprise and without notice, it’s nice to have a day when one suspects “Something will happen today,” and to just be ready for it when it does happen. Today was one such day for me, and for that, I am very grateful, not only to Antinous, but to Soli (and Wepwawet, Hekate, Hermes, and other boundary gods) for taking me past that boundary to the other side of it, to see how it might actually be working in many respects from a viewpoint we rarely take seriously or venture to imagine.

Dua Wepwawet!
Khaire Hermes! Khaire Hekate!
Ave Ave Antinoe!

At last, my final post on PantheaCon 2013 (before I start doing “Planning Ahead for 2014″ posts, that is!), to finally bring it to a close. I can say very happily that though the transition back to the everyday from it has been difficult this year, at the same time, some of the other difficulties that have arisen in the meantime on the homefront have had a way of re-orienting me to the here and now in a way that is not necessarily good or positive, but nonetheless have eased the transition in some ways by making it more necessary to have a clean break and a re-shifting of perceptions and focus.

Just to review, here are the other PantheaCon 2013 posts that I’ve done thus far:
Before All Things, Thanks
Alliances Are Important
Three Rituals

The only photo I can find at present to illustrate the trip further is this one, taken by Jason Mankey’s wife, Ari Mankey, which was originally given in this post on his Patheos.com Pagan channel blog. It was taken on the final morning of PantheaCon this year, when everyone was beginning to scatter to the four winds, and was one of my many encounters that morning that went along the lines of “Damn, wish we had more time to hang out and chat!” I hope to speak with both of them more at future events, in any case. While I think it’s a good picture in many respects, the thing I find the funniest about it, and which was entirely non-intentional, is that the vent on the ceiling above me is positioned in such a way, due to the camera angle being slightly up in order to accommodate my height, that it looks like I’m not just wearing my awesome neo-Bithynian clothes with the leopard-print, peacock-feathered fez, but it ends up looking like a leopard-print, peacock-feathered mortarboard. I am the Doctor, after all, in every respect…!?!

So, now to the actual doings at PantheaCon, as well as before it.

On the Thursday night before PantehaCon, I went to a missa in the Santeria/Espiritismo tradition that several of my friends practice in. All of the attendees were people involved in paganism, polytheism, and other spiritual practices to some degree or another, and several of my later co-ritualists were also there. In this tradition, it is preferred for all present to be wearing white, and this presented a problem for me, because up until that point, I owned a very small number of white items–to me, white is mostly an accent color (or non-color, actually, as the case is from a physics viewpoint!) rather than a main color, and it’s so hard to keep clean, so I prefer not to wear it. But, I decided that because many Afro-Diasporic traditions prefer or even require this form of dress, and I’ve always not gone because I didn’t have the clothes, this time I’d get the clothes and then never have the excuse not to go again…and, if I do say so myself, I looked pretty damned good in them! A dinner took place before the actual missa, and during this, it was made clear that Antinous, Polydeukion, Hadrian, and a variety of the other divine figures with whom I deal were very free and welcome to come through in the event if they so chose (and it was as if I was getting the message that “We’re gods and heroes, but we’re also dead people, so all boxes are checked!”). I wasn’t sure if they would, however, and in the end, they didn’t–which was fine. I did get something out of it (a good cleansing, and some very good suggestions on further things I should do…some of which I have not yet enacted), and there were many interesting things that occurred during the process, and that had relevance for what came next at PantheaCon. It was a very positive experience, and I’d happily do it again with the individuals involved if the opportunity presents itself in the future.

I arrived at PantheaCon slightly later than I had anticipated, and got registered, had brief conversations with a variety of people, and looked around a bit. I enjoyed a banana and a bottle of water by the pool before everything started.

On the first session on Thursday at 1:30 PM, I attended Michael Smith’s, “Osiris, Set, Horus: The Eternal Struggle” session. I’ve met Michael briefly on a few other occasions at PantheaCon, and find him to be very pleasant–and he has a totally charming voice and a lovely, gentle Southern accent! The information he presented was not anything new to me, and I think that some of it was not as elaborated upon as I might have preferred (e.g. Set’s role as protector of the Barque of Re), but it was a nice and easy way to start out the whole convention.

Following that was the Patheos.com Pagan Channel panel on Pagan Intrafaith.

And immediately following that, at 5:00 (though we didn’t start until a few minutes later) was a somewhat not-on-the-schedule event (though we had permission of the con’ to do it), which was the “Furious Revels.” Bari Mandelbaum and Anomalous Thracian lead this procession, which was in imitation of the masked processions and mummings that take place during winter (often in the form of Krampus in some central European and alpine countries), and which can often have relevance to werewolves, the “furious host” or the “Wild Hunt” as well. These often embody ancestors, but likewise their overall purpose is to cleanse the community of ills in various ways that can particularly harm one’s life during those closed and sequestered winter months. We were told to dress in wild and feral costumes, and I think I brought that pretty well! (I wish I had photos, or that someone did…!?!…and someone does, but I haven’t seen them yet.) We were also instructed to go through our procession through the halls with the intent to banish and sweep away a particular ill from the convention, and we should decide very consciously, deliberately, and specifically what that would be. I decided the ill that I would banish was “transphobia.” I was wearing some of the gear that I would wear later in the day for Lupercalia, and I also used the same flogger we use in Lupercalia–which is for purification as well–and thus it seemed all the more appropriate to be using it in that context. The actual parade itself didn’t take long–about ten to fifteen minutes at the most, and it felt much quicker than that, but most people were simply astonished and stared, though a few joined in as well. We made as much noise as we could, scaring the bad things away and being scarier and more ferocious than them–and we did a damned good job of it! We ended outside of the vendor’s hall, under the open air, and gave one last scream and yell at the whole thing, and called it good!

From there, myself and several of my colleagues went and changed out of our gear, cleansed ourselves, and prepared to re-enter the fray, as it were. Some shifting and shuffling took place, bags were moved into rooms, food was obtained, and while there were several interesting and appealing things that were going to take place during the 7:00 PM session, I didn’t attend any in favor of settling myself in better, leaving some things off, getting plenty of food and the time to digest it, and preparing for what would follow later.

At 9:00 PM, I attended the session by Richard Reidy called “Human Deification–The Kemetic Perspective.” Of course, since Antinous’ deification was due to long-standing Egyptian tradition, this was of great interest to me. Richard, whose sessions I have never attended previously (though I had hoped to on several occasions), presented in a very erudite fashion. He discussed several sources on deification, not simply in Egyptian tradition, but also as reflected in some eastern Orthodox Christian traditions, and what some church fathers said about this pagan practice. He had a very good handout on the matter with many textual excerpts in it as well. One of the points, though, was that traditional Egyptian tradition indicates that simply living a good and moral life in which the gods are honored is something that can earn one deification as well: one doesn’t have to drown in the Nile or be a pharaoh to undergo this process. This is something that is true, very often, of many animist and polytheist traditions, and it is important to keep in mind that humanity and divinity are not that different and bleed very easily into one another (with all that implies!) in these types of religious culture. The strict “human-divine” barriers and boundaries that are so severely policted by monotheistic religions (and not just Christianity and Islam–Baha’i is particularly insistent on this as well) are not traditional to many non-monotheistic religions, and thus the carry-over of some of these attitudes into those who are now pagan but practice in, say, the Hellenic traditions, is a very unfortunate carry-over. In any case, an interesting and useful session.

At 11:00 PM was our Lupercalia ritual.

Saturday morning, at 9:00 AM, I attended Tony Mierzwicki’s session on “Mithraism and the Mithras Liturgy,” which focused on–well!–Mithras and the PGM spell known as the “Mithras Liturgy.” Particular reference was made to the work of recently-deceased scholar of Gnosticism and ancient religions Marvin Meyer in Tony’s presentation. While I certainly like Tony a great deal, and this was a very good presentation, I don’t entirely agree with some of the statements made about Mithraism, at least without some further qualification. For example, and perhaps most pressingly, I don’t think we can legitimately claim–as has been done for around a hundred years–that Mithraism was a viable rival to Christianity. Any other religion was a rival to Christianity, strictly speaking, whether Mithraism or Antinoan devotion or Serapis worship or Orphic Mysteries, etc. Mithraism did not, from what we can tell, allow women to be initiates, and because of that, its survival as anything but a “boy’s club” and quasi-fraternal organization does not seem likely. But, furthermore, due to the size of the mithraea that have been found thus far, and their overall numbers, there were probably no more than about 20,000 Mithraic initiates at any given time (with about 400 sites currently known, and each one holding no more than 50 people), and that would be if all of the currently known mithraea were being used and were at maximum membership at a given time, which wouldn’t have been likely until the very end of antiquity, if ever. However, ninety minutes is a short time to give the entire history of a particular cultus, so perhaps Tony’s further notes on these matters would have included some extended caveats on some of the points raised in earlier scholarship. The piece which was of greatest value in Tony’s presentation, I think, was the guided annotation to the “Mithras Liturgy” that he gave, the step-by-step analysis of its use of the planetary ascent motif, and some of the details he gave on various parts of it. So, an enjoyable way to start the morning on Saturday.

I attended the “Finding Freyr” session at 11:00 AM (though several others also looked good), and then had lunch, and did not attend a 1:30 PM session. I did, however, have a tarot reading with Rachel Pollack, which was amazing, wonderful, insightful, and spectacularly useful, as always. She is great, and truly lives up to how she self-described one time, as “the fucking Pavarotti of tarot”! Some of what was revealed in this reading is coming to pass at present, or may do in the not-too-distant future; other parts haven’t quite emerged yet. We shall see…

At 3:30, I attended the “Pagans of Color Caucus,” which was organized by Xochiquetzal Duti, who has taken part in Ekklesía Antínoou activities in the past. I wanted to attend this session last year, and wasn’t able to (as I think it was cross-listed with something I was presenting), but I’m very glad I attended it this year. Probably around 40 people did, and it was a positive experience for almost everyone, I think. The aspect of it which was most useful for me and my own developing consciousness on these matters was a series of exchanges that took place over about a half hour or so. I made my introduction, and highlighted my membership in the Ekklesía Antínoou, and my gender identity, but not anything else since I didn’t want to take up too much time. It was later pointed out that many white people in the room, in their introductions, did not identify their race. I then mentioned that I felt rather stupid afterwards for not having done so as the introductions went further around the circle (I was about the fourth person to introduce myself), and said that I come from a “no culture” white family, and one that on several sides suppressed all vestiges of culture it could when they came to the U.S. in the late 1800s or early 1900s due to their Jewish status and fears of persecution. Someone else then pointed out that identifying as a “no culture white person” was like a fish not noticing the water, because mainstream white culture–even if it thinks of itself as “default” or “zero” or “normal,” or as I had said, “no culture”–is, in fact, a culture. This was a realization that I am ashamed to say I did not have before that session, and I thanked the individuals who pointed this out very sincerely in the aftermath, because it is a very big oversight on my part to have not realized the blindness and–yes–the privilege that is involved in understanding my culture (even though I’m not very much a part of the mainstream culture in the U.S.) in this manner. The session continued, and we moved it up to the Pagans of Color Caucus Hospitality Suite, which was very nice, and I enjoyed some food and conversation there before having to depart for my next event.

My next events that night were the Tetrad ritual at 7, and the Antinoan Dream Incubation ritual at 11. The next morning, I attended EliSheva’s session on Anat and Astarte, then had a lot casting with her. And after that, I had an hour-long massage, just as I did last year (though with a different person this year), and it was great. I figured I should not schedule this until I was done with all of my rituals, and would no longer be carrying a heavy bag each day with ritual gear in it, and that was a good choice. I have been having troubles with my left knee for months now, and when she checked it out, she said that my whole left thigh was extremely tight–as she said, there is normal, there is somewhat stressed and tight, there is extremely stressed and tight, there is very extremely severely stressed and tight, and then there’s you. Yeah, it was that bad…and since then, it’s been feeling pretty good, and I haven’t had nearly as many problems with it. When she did a particular part of the treatment, so much tension was released that I said, “Wow, I feel like I just got taller,” and she replied, “You actually did!” (Crikey…that’s the last thing I need…!?!) So, that was worth every penny and more, and I was happy to have been able to do it.

I had hoped to attend the “Building Bridges: Trans/Dianic Dialogue at PSG” session at 3:30 with Rev. Melissa Murray and Ruth Barrett, but it was cancelled. I had seen Ruth around the con’ before that (including in the Green Room when I was checking in with them), and half thought that I should introduce myself, but I didn’t. I considered perhaps attending another session (and several offered then were appealing), but decided not to. What I ended up doing then was sitting in front of the fire with Victoria Slind-Flor, with whom I have spoken on a few occasions at previous PantheaCons, and whom I admire greatly–I hope to attend one of her sessions in the future. She has often been at other sessions I’ve attended, and I always appreciate her presence, her wisdom, and her words. She comes from the area of the world where I live and have grown up, and so she told me to salute Mt. Rainier when I got back, which I most certainly did on her behalf!

I had dinner (though I’m not recalling how or where now…?!?), and then went to the “Rite of a Thousand Crowns” from CAYA and co. at 7 PM.

At 9:00, I attended Erynn Rowan Laurie’s “Irish Healing Deities: Beyond Brigid” session. Of course, Erynn’s sessions are always good, and I heard about a few healing deities that I had not encountered before; I’d like to see her notes on the presentation at some point in the future (on her blog, maybe?), as some of the figures mentioned might be useful to follow-up on. I also made a suggestion of the Three Gods of Skill as potentially being candidates for further inclusion in the list–which also included Finn mac Cumhaill, Cú Chulainn, Lug, the Dagda, Dian Cécht and his children, Flidais, and a variety of others.

While I would prefer not to mention the following, I can’t exactly mention the previous session and not say something that will stick out in my mind for a long time after this that demonstrates how polytheism is still not necessarily an accepted, understood, or taken-seriously matter within a great deal of modern paganism. A few older women ended up sitting near me in Erynn’s session in the front row, and we were talking a little bit before everything started, as one does at PantheaCon in general. Some matter or other relating to deities came up, and I had at that stage said nothing about my own activities, devotions, or qualifications to the woman with whom I was speaking. In perhaps one of the most patronizing manners I’ve encountered in a long time, she pointed out to me that “All goddesses are one goddess; all gods are one god.” I said to her in reply, “If you think so, that’s fine; but that’s not how it works for me.” And before she could reply–though she did give me a look like I was rather foolish and poorly-informed after I replied–the session started and there was no more conversation between us. Later, as a result of my comments and Erynn’s follow-ups to them, it was revealed that I do have a Ph.D. in the area concerned with that presentation, and I saw the woman sitting next to me look at me slightly differently as a result. Hmm. While people attempting to patronize me do not usually succeed in making me feel patronized, nonetheless it does annoy me a great deal when it occurs…particularly when it is a matter of someone telling me categorically that my beliefs or my religion are wrong, irrelevant, or misinformed, as was the case in this particular incident. (I’m dealing with a situation of that nature elsewhere in life at present, on which more possibly later…but, I indicate this here merely to note that such matters are of especial attention and trouble to me at present; in its own way, perhaps this brief moment at PantheaCon was revelatory of what was to come after PantheaCon for me, in many respects.)

At 11:00 PM, I went to “Cybele and the Angry Inch.”

The final morning, I attended Jes’ session at 9 AM, “Community, Relationships, and Love.” Jes is a friend, and I wanted to support him very much in this, and it was a good and useful topic to be considering; and, as it was the “hangover slot” of the con’ that often gets the least attendees (and in which I’ve often had to present), I wanted to make sure I was there to swell the numbers. There were about seven or eight of us there, including a young child of about 5 with his parents. It was a good session to just have a discussion in the presence of (mostly) strangers about concerns that impact all of us, and I felt like I was able to both give some good thoughts to some people present in response to their interests or needs, and likewise many did so with and in response to me, too. It was a good thing to have done, I think.

I considered going to a session at 11:00, but didn’t do that, and instead spent time with many people that I might not have been able to see further for a long time, including EliSheva of AMHA. And, this turned into a marathon session of greetings and leave-takings, a few new introductions, a few connections made with people who I’d been in touch with online previously, and a variety of good feelings…and yet, the difficulty of extracting ourselves from the situation also became quite apparent at that point, as I detailed in earlier posts.

That night, I ate a lovely dinner with my Thracian colleague, we planned some further antics for the next day, and the following day, we performed Communalia and a few other matters of ritual significance and importance. Then, the next morning, I gathered my things and we went to the airport, and I returned home.

So, that was my PantheaCon 2013 experience! Thank you for reading all of these reflections–those of you who did!–and I am glad to be finally putting the cap on the toothpaste, as it were, all of these weeks later. There are many more matters I’d like to discuss in the near future, and still two more days of festival to be observing, so there will be no shortage of further posts in the near future on other things!

The Serapeia is once again upon us, which means that the following object,

is in my pocket as we speak and as I write this. He will be there until I go to sleep tonight.

In Neos Alexandria, today is also the Festival of Khonsu, described as follows:

Offerings are made to Khonsu, the moon god on the night of the full moon in Pakhons, after whom the month is named.

In the strange syncretistic fashion that is more my general way of being these days than not, this festival already began for me very early this morning. I awoke to a flood of the full moon’s light coming through my window and lighting up my (white) bust of Antinous for more than an hour as the moon made its way across the night’s sky. I’d love to say that I’m intelligent, observant, and prescient enough to have devised this set-up for my shrine deliberately, but it would be a lie if I said that, because it’s just complete and utter chance that the exact placement of my shrine, and Antinous’ bust’s position on it, aligns so perfectly to be bathed in the full moon’s light each month. In a way, that’s almost even better than having set it up that way deliberately, don’t you think? Maybe not…oh well.

Today is also Robigalia in Roman tradition. If you want to read more about Serapeia, Robigalia, and also the syncretism festival of Apis and Antinous that is celebrated on this day, you can read the posts from 2011 and 2012.

I’d like to do my best today to write a poem for the occasion. So, here goes…

Serapis’ Beard

Hail to Serapis, mighty-bearded,
whose beard-hairs entwine the entire world
of gods and men, of cities and planets.

His wisps of hair curl around Osiris,
the false-bearded, and whorl around Sabazios,
whose beard is equally dense and drifting.

His chin-mane swirls around Zeus’ thunderbolt,
the bident of subterranean Hades,
and around Herakles’ mighty club and lion-skin.

Around the cadeuceus and the thyrsus alike,
around hammer and anvil in forge,
around the thighs of his favorite lovers.

His beard a bridge across continents and cultures,
entwining Sucellos and Odin, Endovellicus and the Dagda,
and old Math vab Mathonwy and his virgin footholder.

The young and the old, bearded and unbearded alike,
young Antinous and the Apis Bull and Anubis,
and today even Robigus, Robigo, and white-faced Khonsu.

Brahma’s four heads and faces entangle with his beard,
and Sarutahiko-no-Okami’s undefeated spear
clears a way to mingle their facial hairs together.

In the faces of Walt Whitman and old uncles and grandfathers,
in the faces of aloof twenty-something hipsters who can’t be bothered,
in the chins of goats and unicorns alike.

In the gessi of Ulchai and of Olc Aiche,
the hounds of every fíanna
and the wolf-head of every cáinte.

His beard encompasses sun, moon, and stars,
the planets and the Milky Way,
and the vast depths of unknowable space…

In the upper beard and the lower beard,
in the beardless and the shaven and the shorn,
on this day, Serapis, mighty-bearded, hail to you!

*****

And, in a final note of something “odd” and noteworthy (and likely not at all connected to this day, but so what?), sometimes, things turn up in rivers. If this were “the good ol’ days,” this would be taken as the sign of some divine favor, shrines would be built to this deity (whomever it was determined to be), festivals would be instituted, and much joy and happiness would occur because of it. But, being we live in a sick and cynical age, and the thing is made of foam and fiberglass, it will probably just be towed ashore and thrown into a landfill. We can always hope for something better and more interesting than that, but as our daily existences all too often prove, hope springs dry up quickly. Oh well…just wanted to note this little possibility of hope and fascination before it gets forgotten entirely.

Meanwhile…

Hail to Serapis on his festival-day! Hail and praises to Khonsu!
Hail to Robigus and Robigo! Hail to Apis! Hail to Antinous!

While it is still a week away in Neos Alexandria, here at the Aedicula Antinoi (as explained here), today is Naukrateia. The NA calendar describes the festival as follows:

This festival celebrates the founding of Naukratis by Pharaoh Amasis and the bringing of the Greek gods to Egypt. Begin by making offerings and libations to Amasis. Then carry images of the gods of Naukratis–Apollon, Hera, Zeus, Aphrodite and the Dioskouroi–in procession and set them up in their shrines. Offerings are given to them, starting with earth and water to represent their reception in the land of Egypt. Then pour out libations of milk, oil and wine and make offerings of local produce. Pray for them to bless the land and to protect their followers however far from home they may have traveled.

The Greek Gods in Egypt

Amasis consulted the oracle of Wadjet,
whom the Greeks would call Leto:

“Invite the Greeks to the Nile’s banks.”
But what gods would welcome them?

The Two Sobeks came forth first
to welcome two from amongst the Greeks,

never far apart even in life and death:
Kastor and Polydeukes, the Dioskouroi.

Ammon and Mut would rule as consorts
in the city where the Greeks would settle,

and Zeus and Hera were the names
by which the Greek citizens would know them.

Hathor and Horus would likewise be
the sun’s rays at the ready to strike–

but the Greeks in time revered them
as Aphrodite and Apollon in peace.

Bast would be honored for her role
in the city where the oracle was given,

and the Greeks would call her Aelurus;
and from where the Nile would burst forth

in time, the Egyptian Satis would be called
Hera, mother of Hestia amongst the Greeks.

The gods and goddesses themselves were amazed
that both Greek and Egyptian stood face-to-face

and yet each nation preferred to see only
their own name as the face of the deity.

To the Greeks, the sphinx a riddling woman,
and to the Egyptians, the sphinx a protective man.

In the streets of Naukratis a drama
of the fable-teller Aesop’s companion in slavery

and the poetess Sappho’s brother would play out
over Rhodopis, the fairest daughter of Thrace.

In time, Serapis predicted, would come
another whose face would be filled with gods,

whose city, Antinoöpolis, would be the daughter
of Naukratis under Hadrian’s rule of the Two Lands.

May the gods of the Two Lands of Egypt
and the many cities and islands of Greece

remember their people, and may their people
celebrate their gods in every land!

I ran into a delay that I could do nothing about earlier (i.e. a Relay For Life candlelight ceremony which took two hours rather than an hour as I thought it would), and I wanted this to get posted before midnight; I’ve updated it since then, after finishing writing the last two poems and seeking out images and such to go with the poems. As with yesterday’s post, please do feel free to discuss and comment on these; while I’m not as happy with some of my results today as I was yesterday, there’s no reason why some of these can’t be revised further in the future. (Not every devotional poem has to come out “perfect” from the start every time–and, no matter how great one’s inspiration from the gods happens to be, it’s still a fully human process to choose each word, syllable, line break and punctuation mark in poetry, and don’t ever let anyone tell you differently, lest they lie through their teeth!)

In any case, without further ado…

Thoth

Before he was a baboon howling at sunrise,
Thoth was an ibis upon the Nile’s banks.
The Nile’s black mud, bounty of Hapi and Anoukis,
was the first ink to be used by the scribes’ god.
The spindly legs of the ibis, the talons outstretched
made their marks in the mud as it dried like clay.
But the stone-cut hieroglyph was not his invention–
that was the province of Seshat, Lady of Builders.
Instead, his mud-blackened claws upon a bed of papyrus:
first symbols scratched onto the rolls of eternity.

Hadrian the Builder

The lines of a Legion in formation–
the columns in the libraries at his Villa.
The vallum’s ditch along Britannia’s wall–
the pool at the center of the triclinium.
The arch marking Hadrian’s restoration of Athens–
the monument of his hunts with Antinous.
The bridges in Britannia and at Rome named for him–
the bridge over the Ilissos on Eleusis’ sacred way.
The pediment of the Temple of Venus and Roma–
the great pillars of Zeus’ Olympeion…
the formidable walls of his Roman Serapeum.
The hemispherical dome of the Pantheon–
the curved exedra at the Antinoeion…
the flat drum rotunda of his tomb.

Laufey

Of the three sons of Laufey, the slender needle,
one surpasses the others in fame, and in infamy,
but the mother remains a pillar of virtue and beauty.
Her arms are long, her legs are strong, and her hair
like a thousand times a thousand leaves falls from her shoulders.
Her form is the seed of the shape of the Irminsul,
for she is the center and the pillar of her children’s world.
The thanks and praise given to her is carried heavenward,
and spreads down into the roots of the earth as well.
Laufey, thou island of leaves, sacred tree, may you favor us.

Enki

Lord of fresh water, he comes upon the river banks
to let flow the waters of the heart to Ninhursag;
Lord of fresh water, he comes upon the river banks
to let flow the liquid of life to Ninsar;
Lord of fresh water, he comes upon the river banks
to let flow the juice of joyousness to Ninkurra;
Lord of fresh water, he comes upon the river banks
to let flow the waters of weaving to Uttu,
who leaves it on the riverbank to become fruitful,
which the Lord of fresh water takes unto himself
but cannot bear alone, and thus from the Lady Earth
the gods of healing the seven body parts are born.
Enki, Lord of fresh water, of the number forty, be praised!

Sobek, Lord of Bakhu

O ancient and feared god, son of Neith most high,
evader of nets and discoverer of fallen hands,
smiter of tongues and he who moistens the scribes’ pen,
lord of green and sovereign of semen
upon your crystalline mountain in your temple of carnelian
you are imperishable and unshaken at Re’s passage
and are uninhibited amongst the glorious gods,
from the time before primal water and ancient air
were separated, from the time when male and female
were still mingled in the body of your mother Neith–
Sobek, Lord of Bakhu, may your ferocity
be my protection, and may you devour my enemies
and make their strength into my soul’s foundation.

Hekate

Khaire Hekate Chthonia, with Cerberus at your side;
Khaire Hekate Soteira, who brings every blessing;
Khaire Hekate Enodia, protecting those who ride;
Khaire Hekate Kourotrophos, in virtue children dressing;
Khaire Hekate Phosphoros, two bright torches bearing;
Khaire Hekate Trimorphe, with heads of dog and goat;
Khaire Hekate Trioditis, at crossroads wayfaring;
Khaire Hekate Apotropaia, who keeps sailors afloat;
Khaire Hekate Nyktipolos, wanderer in the night;
Khaire Hekate Skylagetis, huntress with her hounds;
Khaire Hekate Liparokredemnos, whose hair gives light;
Khaire Hekate Brimo, who howls frightening sounds;
Khaire Hekate Atalos, the maiden undefiled;
Khaire Hekate Perseis, who destroys with ease;
Khaire Hekate Propylaia, the gatekeeper she’s styled, and
Khaire Hekate Kleidouchos, who holds the gates’ keys.
Over heavens, earth, and ocean, sovereign goddess supreme,
Khaire Hekate, may I visit you again in hymn and in dream.

*****

Very quickly, you should be able to recognize the tune I had in mind with this next one…sing it yourselves, aloud, with your friends!

Sekhmet

Sing a song of Sekhmet, the fiery Eye of Re,
A hundred thousand armies slain in a day…
When the vats were opened the beer flowed forth all red–
Wasn’t that more preferable than every mortal dead?

Great Re was in his solar barque shining out so sunny,
And Heryshaf was on his lake–his bloody nose so runny–
While Sekhmet, in the desert, guarded the border,
Where Heqet was the midwife and Khnum was the porter!

The Eye of Re is frightening, when she is a lion,
Or when she is a serpent–makes her foes start cryin’–
But when she is a kitten, you can bet your life:
Bast knows how to carve a snake with deadly bladed knife!

*****

And, this last one is also meant to be a song…I’m not 100% happy with the lyrics yet, but it will do for now. As there is no icon of Panprosdexia yet, and I’ve already given the Tetrad++ Group’s star sigil in yesterday’s post, I’ll just give you a video of the tune to which the lyrics to follow are meant to be sung. (And special thanks to Sannion for turning me on to this song a few weeks ago…it’s now one of my favorites, though I’m not a huge fan of the lyrics, hence the rewriting!)

The Birth of Panprosdexia

Great Pancrates, the fourth of the gods,
The last to give birth from among the Tetrad
From scraps of fate, forgotten and gone,
The fourth of the gods gave birth to the sixth…

[CHORUS:]
Pancrates bore a magical child
Pancrates’ child will conquer the world
Pancrates bore a magical child
With black onyx eyes
It’s the beginning of a new night
Now the Tetrad can face the fight
They will bring all of them back to the light–
The birth of Panprosdexia!

Honey poured forth into the dark
Was like the birth of Panprosdexia–
The shadow between the pleasures of sex
Without the form of any sex…

[CHORUS]

They will descend to dark Tartaros
To redeem the gods cast into blackness;
They will bring all to the light of day
The children of Nyx and Gaia!

[CHORUS]

The following post was one inspired by a conversation else-internet from last week, with a prominent modern pagan (who shall remain nameless, unless that person wishes to identify themself in the comments here!), on a certain matter that is perhaps more widespread theologically than it should be in modern paganism, and which might be useful to clarify further.

The initial conversation started when the individual concerned mused on the possibility of getting more deeply involved in some form of pagan spiritual practice, perhaps to the point of pursuing having direct experiences with deities. However, the individual then said something along the lines of “But I’m not sure that I want to be a mystic,” and said that their own role within modern paganism was one that was important and fulfilling and needed to be done.

First off, let me state that I think there are a gigantic and variegated plethora of possible roles for people to play (and by that, I don’t mean that anyone is “just acting” when they assume these roles, I mean carrying out their particular role’s responsibilities, duties, and customs to the utmost of their ability and with all of their hearts, souls, minds, bodies, strengths, loves, and desires engaged to the utmost!) within modern paganism, and I think we’ve only really begun to scratch the surface of the possibilities in this regard. A lot of what gets called “priest-ing” or “priestess-ing” these days can often be called by more accurate and appropriate terms, and I think there’s absolutely no harm in moving toward those more accurate designations, because their inclusion under the rubric of “priest/esshood” ends up then diminishing the actual and specific role of priest/esses, both in the past and in a workable, realistic, and functional fashion for today.

So, let no one state that I am against people playing whatever roles they are meant to play in modern paganism, whether it be some role as a sacred functionary, or some role as a sacred potluck organizer (which might fall under the Irish rubric of “hosteler,” perhaps!). There needs to, in fact, be a lot more of this than there has been; and, the people playing these other important roles need to also realize that just as their role may not automatically entail priestly functions, so too does their role not also necessitate a good understanding of theology, nor does it make their theological opinions useful or informed simply because they have such opinions and are perhaps in a prominent role amongst modern pagans. (But that may be a separate issue…perhaps not, as we shall see.)

The real issue at stake, however, in the individual’s thoughts to which I was responding, is the notion that someone who is a modern pagan and who has had direct experiences of a deity or deities is, thus, a “mystic.” That is a rather common error, I think, and one that is very widespread, and has ended up making the term “mystic” be one that is often self-applied and self-defined rather than something that actually ends up meaning anything. This requires some further explanation and qualification, I think.

In some dominant creedal monotheistic religions, for example, there is often a distinction made between the everyday person-in-the-pews–which Catholicism has called “the laity”–and the clergy and/or “the religious” (i.e. persons in religious orders, whose entire lives are dedicated to the service of their gods, their communities, and their religions, e.g. nuns, monks, etc.). In the mainstream forms of modern Christianity, mysticism is an oddity, even to an extent amongst the religious (and perhaps especially amongst the clergy!), and thus someone who is in the category of the laity and who has intense spiritual experiences might thus–if their experiences are considered canonical and orthodox–be thus considered a mystic. Mysticism is so unusual in mainstream modern creedal monotheistic religions that, despite a mystical basis in much of those religions’ theologies, nonetheless actual mystics are the exception rather than the norm.

Okay, fine. But, what about religions where mysticism is more the norm than the exception?

Some religions have a practice that automatically makes whoever does the practice correctly into a mystic, whether or not they might choose to identify as such. Buddhism and Taoism are both largely non-theistic religions, and yet those who practice them diligently do end up having experiences of “Buddha mind” or satori or of the Tao, which by definition would, thus, make them mystics since they have attained an experience of the essence of their religion. Okay, no problem.

Most practical and experiential religions, thus, are more inclined toward mysticism than creedal religions. I would say, despite some notions to the contrary, that polytheism is a religion in which direct contact with divine beings is pretty much the expectation rather than the exception, no matter how subtle or fleeing such divine contacts might be. It is an experiential religion, and thus it means that if it is working properly, its practices put an adherent of the religion into contact with divine beings in a very direct fashion. This applies to priests and other religious functionaries in pagan and polytheistic religions (including various forms of diviners, oracles, exegetes, theologians, sacred artists, ritual specialists, etc.) as equally as it does to the non-religious specialist–or, what in some other religions would be called “the laity.” When one looks at ancient religions and sees who had dreams of Asklepios, for example, the vast majority of inscriptions on these matters are not priests or seers or other such individuals, they’re everyday people from all walks of life (though they usually have to be relatively financially stable in order to have left an inscription that has survived). The mysticism–if that term is simply understood as “the pursuit of or experience with direct contact between humans and divine beings”–of someone who went to Asklepios’ temple and had a dream of the god which lead to their healing is no less mystical than the mysticism of the Pythia at Delphi, or the priests who wrote the Delian Aretalogy of Serapis. (Yes, there are further distinctions to be made in the mystical experiences of each of those examples, but the discursive category of “mysticism” applies equally well to each of them in its most basic definitions.)

Thus, a non-priestly practitioner of an experiential religion that employs the practices of it and successfully has direct experiences of divine beings as a result is not automatically a “mystic,” they’re “a practitioner of the religion,” or in other words “a layperson” or “member of the laity.” If the person’s entire life is dominated by pursuit of such practices, then they are a mystic (and that mysticism usually gets defined in a further fashion to distinguish how it is practiced and how mystical experiences are pursued); but if one is just someone who, for example, goes to a Wiccan ritual and feels the presence of their Goddess, then they’re just someone who went to a Wiccan ritual and it worked for them.

Or, to speak in terms of the Ekklesía Antínoou, which is the tradition I probably know best (!?!), there are a variety of different levels and experiences and potential engagements with Antinous which can result in direct experience, and not all of them would give one the title of “mystic.” One can simply attend an Ekklesía Antínoou ritual, like Lupercalia for example, and have a pleasant experience of the presence of the god, or feel his peace after one of the prayers, or gain his blessing as a result of the flogging and the race, or any other such matter that takes place in the ritual. This would make one an attentive participant in the ritual, which while it involves what some evaluations of religious phenomena might refer to as mysticism, does not thus confer the title of “mystic” on everyone who came to the ritual (especially if they only come to one ritual in their life, or only do this ritual on a yearly basis, or only do Antinoan ritual generally speaking a few times a year, etc.). Then, there are some people who wish to seek initiation (or, as we often call it, “mysticization”!) in the Antinoan Mysteries. When they undergo this process, it is ideally hoped that it will be the gateway to many more direct experiences with Antinous and to a more active practice of Antinoan devotion; so, afterwards, they become a Mystes, which is pretty much a “mystic” by definition; but still, if they do not further pursue these experiences afterwards, that doesn’t make them a “mystic,” and they may not even be a “mystic” at all times in their life after that, even though they have the title and the recognition as being one of the Mystai Antínoou in the aftermath. Still others may get involved in Antinoan devotion as a result of having had one or more direct experiences with Antinous, and thus these individuals–wishing to pursue such devotional relationships further–might end up being called “mystics.” But, the experiential basis of all of these levels of engagement, involving as they do direct encounters with the god Antinous, are all equally deserving of the term “mystical” as far as their characterization of these phenomena go; but, not all of the above individuals, no matter how powerful or effective their mystical encounters might have been, are thus automatically “mystics” in the aftermath for having had them.

To use a completely different metaphor, think of it this way. I have been on sailboats in the past. I have helped to tie up ropes or raise and lower sails or even handle the tiller on a few boats in my time. I may do so again in the future if I’m in a position to have such an experience. But, I wouldn’t say that I’m by any means a “sailor,” nor have I been one in the past simply because I helped out on a boat on a few occasions.

The life of a mystic is not usually built around a single isolated experience; it tends to be a series of such experiences and a general propensity for them that singles an individual out as a mystic. And, this means that one’s priorities are necessarily different, and are thus incompatible with certain other ways of life or areas of pursuit; and, make no mistake, it also involves responsibilities to the gods that go way beyond what is expected of, or is feasible for, a lay practitioner of an experiential religion. (Hence, the other term in the subject line above: “laborers,” because mysticism does take a shit-ton of work!) Yes, there is a certain amount of mysticism that is involved in a lay engagement with modern paganism and polytheism, and thus there is a mystical quality to all pagan and polytheist religiosity; but, that doesn’t make everyone who practices these religions a mystic, any more than having candles in our usual altar equipment makes every pagan or polytheist a chandler, or use of a few sprigs of juniper in ritual makes all of us herbalists, or that we often sing chants in our rituals makes everyone a cantor or an opera singer or any sort of professional vocalist. That our religion is mystical does not make everyone in it a mystic; that our religion is earth-friendly does not make everyone in it a green-thumb or environmentalist; that our religion is most often derived from English, Greek, and Irish components does not make everyone in it English, Greek, or Irish (or all three!); and so forth.

Further, I suspect that many people who self-identify as mystics–perhaps because they have had a few experiences, or even a single experience–don’t really understand what this means to as full an extent as they should. Yes, I know many people who self-identify as mystics, and almost all of them do deserve the title and use it accurately; but I have also come across some who use it in ways that seem to suggest that their experiences are more deep, rich, “authentic,” or (as if often the case on some subtle or over level) to be trusted more than anyone else’s, and they do so in a self-aggrandizing fashion that may not always be useful or even accurate. This is unfortunate, but as with so many things in modern paganism and polytheism, since there is no central authority and the traditions and lineages which there are often don’t have facility with conceptualizing these matters, there is little to nothing stopping someone from appropriating whatever term they feel they might like or to which they are entitled (and I use the latter term deliberately to indict the very high level of entitlement many pagans feel they have to anything and everything that they might feel an interest in or liking for spiritually), including the term “mystic,” whether or not it is accurate, deserved, or appropriate in a given case. But, that may be a much larger issue as well…

And, perhaps just to fully disclose my own self-understandings on this issue, I should state what follows as well. I have a practice that involves mysticism to a large degree; I have had a propensity towards mystical experiences from a relatively young age, and many of them continue to shape my religious engagement to this very moment (and likely will for a long time). However, do I identify as a mystic? Generally, no, and I prefer not to do so. Why? Because, not unlike the term “priest,” I think it is a rather unspecific term that can mean a great many things and doesn’t tell one as much useful information as some other more accurate and specific terms might. For example, a “mystic” could be anyone from an Orisha priest that has regular experiences of being ridden by Orishas in an Afro-Diasporic religion, to a “meditator” in some form of Buddhism–and, due to the very different nature of these two practices, both of which involve what can accurately be called “mysticism,” the term thus is less useful than describing each of these individuals as what they do. In my own case, I’m a mystagogos, a leader of and establisher of a mystery tradition; I’m also a sacerdos, a priest in public rituals; I’m a fili, a poet and practitioner of the craft of filidecht; I’m a person who practices dream incubation and other dream-based spiritual techniques; and I’m a devotee of a variety of deities, heroes, and land spirits. Each of these things could come under the rubric of “mysticism” quite easily, and thus each of these roles could be described as a “mystical” role, and thus a person who does each of them could be called a “mystic”; however, each of these things can also fall under the category of “spiritual role,” or even more widely, just “a role” or “a thing someone does.” “Mystic” feels too general to me to be as useful as the more specific descriptors, and while not quite as useless as “a role,” it moves further in that direction than in the realm of specificity which, I think, is one of the things that polytheism always has to keep in mind at all levels of its engagement–if deities really are distinct and separate individuals (which they are!), then every time one can maintain that specificity in one’s everyday practices, whether that is prayer to the gods, use of some words over others to convey accuracy and specificity, or even dealing with humans on levels that emphasize their individuality and uniqueness rather than responding to them as members of a group or a type (stereo- or otherwise).

So, one mystical experience does not a mystic make. However, no mystical experiences at all does not make one anything either, and if one wishes to have such experiences (and one’s regular practices of one’s religion–particularly if it is an experiential religion like modern forms of paganism and polytheism are–aren’t bringing them about), then it is by all means a good and valid thing to do to pursue them further. One can do so secure in the knowledge that simply by so doing, it won’t absolutely revolutionize one’s life and force one to give everything up only to pursue further devotional relationships with a deity or set of deities (unless that’s what ends up happening!…but, let’s be honest, it doesn’t usually…), though it should make one’s religious engagement richer and more rewarding in the aftermath. It may very well even make one a better doctor, teacher, lawyer, gardener, journalist, firefighter, dancer, computer programmer, circus tumbler, or janitor (or whatever one’s job happens to be!) in the aftermath as well; but, it doesn’t necessarily make one a mystic always and forever afterwards, or even for a fleeting moment or two.

I apologize to Sarah McLachlan, whose song “Building a Mystery” I enjoy quite a bit, for the variation on that title I use here as my subject line.

Over this past weekend, when I was speaking with Fritz Muntean, one of the things he queried was why modern reconstructionists (particularly Hellenic ones) are reconstructing the polis-based religion (despite the lack of an actual polis to make it contextually meaningful) rather than the mystery religions. There are various reasons for this, I suspect, which I’ll speak more about below.

I think it is a good point, however, and raises a number of issues that have not necessarily been examined in mainstream reconstructionism. It may be odd to utter the phrase “mainstream reconstructionism,” considering how much of a fringe and minority viewpoint and community it is; but, there are groups and individuals who are in the mainstream of those various movements, and then there are more marginal individuals who employ the methodologies but may not come up with answers that the mainstream recon communities like or share or would be happy about. (And, for the record: yes, I do employ the reconstructionist methodology, and thus consider myself recon in at least two traditions; however, I’m clearly not a Greek, Roman, or Egyptian recon strictly speaking, I’m an Antinoan cultus recon, and thus a little different from the concerns that each of those religious outlooks would have due to my deity-specific focus.)

Of course, one of my immediate responses to Fritz was, “We are reconstructing a mystery tradition,” but I also included caveats that our mystery tradition–the Antinoan Mysteries–are very modern, despite their basis in and drawing content and context from a variety of premodern, ancient, and late antique sources. We make no bones about our Mysteries being “the same as” the ones that were definitely celebrated in honor of Antinous in various locations in the ancient world; but, we also don’t therefore say that our Mysteries are “not as good as” the ancient ones–they are interesting and effective, I think, and are potentially quite transformative for those who are able to undergo them. Even if we could 100% replicate the ancient mysteries of Antinous, there is no guarantee that they would speak to modern people the way they did eighteen hundred years ago; and, no doubt, the same would be true of our rituals if they were performed back then, I suspect (though there would be at least some recognition, since we are using some of the same materials to which they had access).

One question which arises, however, is what materials there are from which to build (or re-build) the Antinoan Mysteries? There are some documents, especially from Egypt and the region of Antinoöpolis, which have been particularly useful and insightful. Following some hints and hunches that have emerged over the years in relation to Antinous and a variety of other gods has also been useful. And, of course, there is what Antinous and friends themselves have directly revealed, which has not happened as often as one would hope, but the contribution of such experiences cannot be downplayed. (And, yet again, more will be said on this later!)

But, there are a variety of other mystery traditions from the ancient world which may or may not have had some influence on the proceedings. Of course, Antinous and Hadrian were initiates (and Hadrian twice!) in the Eleusinian Mysteries, so the likelihood of some influence from this angle seems almost certain. There are also indications that Herodes Attikos and Polydeukion were involved to some degree in Orphic or Orphic-like Mysteries, based on some of the relief sculptures at the hero shrine to Polydeukion, the other Trophimoi, and the deceased members of Herodes’ family that existed at his villa in Eva-Loukou. The mysteries of another drowned young hero/god, Palaimon/Melikertes, may have had an influence, as that cultus seemed to be something which Hadrian and some of the subsequent Antonines had an interest in (if official imperial coin emblems are anything to go by). Likewise, the quasi-mystery tradition that took place at Lake Nemi in relation to Diana, Virbius, and other heroes and deities may have had some role to play in the shared cultus of Antinous and Diana at Lanuvium as well. And, mystery traditions (if, indeed, such existed–it seems both likely but perhaps likewise an over-stretching of the term, possibly) around the deities Osiris, Serapis, and Sabazios seem to have some influence in a variety of ways on Antinous’ subsequent cultus, certainly; but perhaps they had their role to play in his mysteries as well.

But, what traditions can we rule out? One that I think we can state with certainty had little to no influence of a direct and detectable nature on Antinous’ cultus or mysteries was the Mithraic Mysteries. As interesting as these are, there is simply no evidence to indicate that Hadrian was at all involved in those Mysteries, nor did Antinous come into that orbit. Mithras himself is a super-syncretistic deity, and while it is thus not impossible that he might sweep up Antinous (or the reverse!), it didn’t seem to happen; it may have occurred to some extent with Sabazios and Mithras, but not with Antinous and Mithras.

So, further research and experimentation with a variety of these elements will be useful in the future, and I hope to commence with some of that soon. There seems to be some sort of mystery tradition that wants to develop around Polydeukion, but I know I’m “too old” (quite literally!) to have an organizational or compositional role in those; at most, I can be an initiate to those, and I look forward to that. However, there are also at least two more “levels” to the Antinoan Mysteries, and I hope to be engaging with the second one in the not-too-distant future, depending on some logistical matters.

There are a few further matters I’d like to discuss on this subject meanwhile, though. First, as alluded to above in two places, there is the issue of why mystery traditions are harder to reconstruct. There is the obvious reason: the polis religion was public and left good records, whereas the mystery traditions–even if they have an accessible archaeological profile (as the Eleusinian and Mithraic Mysteries do, and as the Orphic Mysteries have to a lesser extent, yet one which provides likely words and/or ritual texts)–were secret and not openly discussed or written about. But, there is another reason which I think is likely more the prime motivating factor in why these things have not been further pursued in modern polytheist reconstructionist practice: mystery traditions presuppose that their technologies involve a direct experience with a deity or group of deities, and so there are a variety of factors in that equation which put people off in the modern world. For one, such divine encounters are unpredictable, and cannot exactly be orchestrated (even though good use of ritual technology should be able to make it more likely that such experiences occur), so they cannot be as easily controlled or regulated in the way that a basic polis-based festival with offerings and sacrifices, hymns and dances, and other activities in honor of the gods but not necessarily involving their direct intervention or input can be more definitely managed. Further, I think there is a certain lack of confidence that is prevalent in a lot of reconstructionist-methodology-employing polytheists, such that if something cannot be footnoted, it does not exist or cannot be counted as “legitimate” or “authentic.” On the one hand, this ends up being useful, because then one’s position is well researched and contextually understood, and what is new and what is old can be clearly delineated and honestly discussed; on the other hand, though, the lack of authoritative sources on a given issue often means that people might not be willing to take a chance, to use their own creativity and ingenuity, and to trust in their own confidence and ability to have an experience rather than relying on the sources.

But, I suspect the biggest factor in this situation that mitigates against more mystery tradition experimentation is the “UPG” factor in all direct divine experiences. (Incidentally, Sam Webster has recently written why he thinks UPG is a bad terminology to use, and I agree with him largely.) No one can verify someone’s divine experiences, so it is difficult to determine whether someone did legitimately have such experiences, or whether they just “made them up.” What I suspect has even more pull in this situation, though, is the markedly and purposefully independent, individualistic, and even anti-authoritarian tendencies of a large number of modern pagans (recons included), such that they do not want to take anyone’s experiences as authoritative outside of their own, and to trust in someone else’s legitimate divine experiences in a newly reconstructed or revealed mystery tradition would therefore infringe upon their own autonomy, so they might feel. This is a very unfortunate thing, and while this type of suspicion might be a healthy instinct to have developed in order to question and distance oneself from some of the religions that many of us were raised in, this is not necessarily a good instinct to continue having when it comes to any attempts to develop spiritual community through shared spiritual experiences in a new context.

The final matter I’d like to discuss is the entire modern pagan notion of “mysteries” in a variety of circumstances. Wicca has been understood over the past few decades as both a fertility religion (with all of the heteronormativity that such often implies), and as a mystery tradition; since it has initiations and oathbound materials, it certainly qualifies in that respect, if not in several others. But another place in which modern paganism has often spoken of mysteries is in both “men’s mysteries” and “women’s mysteries,” and the latter has been of particular issue when it has come to PantheaCon and transgender individuals over the last few years (as long-time readers of this blog certainly know!). One could argue that the entire experience and phenomenon of the Tetrad++ Group has emerged, “mystery-style,” from that situation quite accurately. When some of the more virulent and controversial stages of the discussion of these matters occurred over the last two years, there was the comment that trans people have their own mysteries, and so they should go and explore them rather than trying to butt in to women’s mysteries. In this situation, I don’t think that the legitimacy of another mystery tradition was being recognized; I think the vocabulary of “mysteries” was being used to mean “it’s an experience that is particular to someone else, therefore go do it so I don’t have to pay attention to you or take you seriously.” When “mystery” starts to mean “mine, mine, mine,” or “yours, so fuck off so I don’t have to deal with you,” then we’ve really lost the thread, I think.

And, to be honest, I don’t think that gender-specific mysteries (cisgender, transgender, or otherwise) are really as much “mysteries” as people would like to think they are, in any sense of the word. It is true that gender identity and status are not inherent in people, they must be recognized and affirmed by society or within a social context in order for them to be meaningful; and yet, as much as the loss of such ceremonial recognitions and coming-of-age experiences is lamentable in modern society, the fact is that people are recognized as their particular genders all the time and at all ages, and in fact gender norms and expectations are enforced upon many people in many situations. The problem may not be that gender isn’t properly recognized in a social context, but instead that it is assumed, and the the various pagan attempts to re-sacralize gender might not accomplish that lack any better, but instead might simply be an occasion on which gender norms are not only reified and further enforced, but they are further given a divine sanction and even imperative which is not any more useful, freeing, or affirming than the way that general society affirms and enforces gender norms on a daily basis. This is one area in which queer theology might be especially useful to question some of the assumptions of heteronormative and cisgendered societal and spiritual constructs, and in which some reforms can be initiatied that do not only apply to queer people.

So, there are about four different matters dealt with in the above, some of which are very different and probably deserve individual posts of their own, or further elaborations in such differentiated contexts; but, I am not quite up to doing that at present, so I’ll leave the above to be discussed however those who are reading this might wish to do so.

Who Was the Father?

On the day of his birth, Artemis’ temple burned
in the far-famed city of Ionia’s Ephesus,
the goddess herself coming to assist
Olympias in her travails to bring forth
the future king, the god Dionysos in travel and conquest.

But who was the father of the child so favored?
Any god or hero worth the name is known
to have many named as father, among gods
and among the kings of the mortal race,
Alexander being no exception at all.

History says his father was Philip of Macedon,
the victor of many battles and games,
the one who would eventually conquer Greece
and be thought of as Greek ever after
though Macedon was its own great people.

Plutarch says Olympias had her womb struck
with the lightning of Zeus, from the clear sky,
and Philip dreamt of a lion sealing the door
into his favored wife’s womb–as if Herakles
himself stood guard over his half-brother.

Pseudo-Callisthenes instead insisted
that the father of the great conqueror
was the Egyptian Pharaoh in disguise,
Nectanebo dresses as a magician
who came and seduced Olympias unawares.

But Nectanebo himself would have insisted
that it was not himself–god incarnate
though he happened to be–who came
to Olympias, but instead great Ammon,
the silent god over all the Two Lands.

And as if Alexander knew both stories
and set out the program that would rule the world
for the next eight centuries,
he insisted after consulting the oracle at Siwa
that he was the son of Zeus-Ammon.

Though Olympias, if anyone had asked her
would have had a different answer:
the snake-handling woman knew well
that the serpent has passed through her breast
and given her the child of great Sabazios.

The Ptolemies would later come to worship
the god who came to Olympias as a serpent
in their god whose statue came from Sinope,
the great Serapis, the god at the fulcrum
of the Two Lands upon the Nile.

Alexander’s sister, Thessalonike, still lives
in the wine-dark waves of the Aegean,
who became a mermaid after her hair was washed
from the spring of immortality by her brother,
and she became impervious to drowning.

“Is the great king Alexander still alive?”
she still asks those who are passing,
and if they are told he is dead or forgotten
they meet a fate worse than death
at the hands of Gorgon, Siren, Skylla, and Charybdis.

But if they should meet and give her the news
that Alexander still lives, still rules, still conquers
a great favor is bestowed on the answerer:
safety from death at sea, long life,
or a sure salvation from death by drowning.

Hadrian heard the maiden ask the question,
and said the answer which was her delight:
“Alexander the great still lives, his rule
is without end and without compare in all history;
he has conquered me, and I worship him.”

But Hadrian had no need for her gifts,
favored of the gods as he was–so instead
her gift went to the one Hadrian loved most,
like Thessalonike’s brother loved Hephaistion,
but could not make him a hero after death.

When the Nile, which one of Alexander’s fathers
had once commanded and ruled over for longer
than the great young Macedonian king had done,
took Antinous into its clutches, it made him
not a hero, but a god among the celestial company.

Thessalonike welcomed him on the far shore
of the Celestial Nile and dried his beautiful body,
and slowly took him, addled with the rush of death,
to meet her brother and his lover enthroned
upon the gilded chairs over the Two Lands.

Five fathers for Alexander: two of the mortal race,
Four who were gods, together or apart,
and only one known with certainty to the mother,
who never spoke; and likewise with Mantinoë,
the mother of Antinous, whose father is not known.

Before I get into the meat of my post for today, I’d like to just take a minute and admit something to you all.

Other than some of my more jokey posts (and those should be relatively obvious), I tend to sit down and write the entries on this blog in a manner that truthfully conveys what I am thinking and feeling at a given time; while my emotions are bound to change, and my thoughts on a variety of issues tend to evolve and shift, nonetheless, each blog entry is a little snapshot in time of what I’m thinking and feeling on a given occasion. (So is every class I teach, every conversation I have, and so forth…and, I’d assume, the same is true of most of the people I deal with as well on a daily or less-often basis.) So, every post is therefore also an “admission” of some sort, an act of me admitting to thinking a certain way or feeling a certain thing…thus, me starting by saying “I want to admit something” is as good as saying “My post today is about,” really.

What I want to admit, though, is to a major fear that I have, and a fear that motivates me more than I’m entirely comfortable admitting (publicly or otherwise), thus I’m hoping to get some degree of control over the fear by admitting it out loud and in front of an audience, even if it’s a virtual audience.

The fear I’m dealing with may not seem to be one that is very applicable to me, and yet it is, far more so than I’m happy about. That fear is this (after four paragraphs of dancing around it, and yet another clause put in its way before it is mentinoed, too–!?!): I am in a constant state of fear and on occasion almost panic that I will run out of words, out of writing, out of new and useful things to say, or even pretty things to say.

Yeah, I know–crazy, huh? I, who routinely write 2,000-3,000 word blog posts on an almost daily basis being worried about running out of words? It is crazy…and, for all that, also entirely true.

It’s one of the things that kept me from starting up a blog like this in the first place. I had a small list of topics I’d like to cover at some stage that I started compiling back in early 2010 (which I still have…and I’ve not even exhausted all of them yet!–though I have made some irrelevant or redundant as a result of having written other things), and I honestly thought after I ran out of those on that list, that there would be no more and I’d be screwed, having a blog that was blank and silent for weeks or months on end, if not longer. Here it is, nearly three years on from beginning, and 1,300+ posts, plus five books written (many of them largely filled with things that started out here), and practically no end in sight…

And yet, for over two hours this afternoon, I pretty much was petrified with the thought of “What if it’s all dried up now?” What sort of devotion would I have to Antinous–or, really, any of the gods I worship (and all of the ones I don’t currently but may in the future…!?!)–if all the words left me? Of course, my devotions are more than just words, and in fact my daily devotions are almost entirely wordless (apart from the Ephesia Grammata and a little short mantra to Hanuman and Ram), but words and poetry in particular are the arena in which my devotions have most flowered, and are probably among the very best things that I can and have offered to the various gods over my life as a modern polytheist and pagan.

So, despite the rather immense output, and the likelihood that like most individuals with the long-term disease known as “being a writer,” the words will never dry up entirely, you might see how this basic thought is in the back of my mind at all times, and every time that I successfully make a stab at the silence and the blankness and fill it with words successfully (or not–because it does happen that either it doesn’t get filled, or what fills it is crap, let’s face it while we’re on the subject of admitting things!), that the next time will be the time when it all fails, when Thoth and Seshat and Hermes and Saraswati and Hanuman and Ogmios and all of the goddesses and gods associated with writing (whose names I am not listing further not out of forgetfulness or disrespect but simply because I need to get to other points relatively soon!) pack up their styluses and papyrus and go “Screw that jerk, we’re leaving!”

It will happen one day: I’ll suddenly trip in the papyrus swamp, and no grasping at reeds or stalks will produce a single thing, and I’ll just drift away and never be heard from again. That will likely be the day I die, I suspect…but, that doesn’t mean that such a day won’t come sooner rather than later, and (it’d be just my luck!) when I’m right in the middle of writing something big and important that I have not left sufficient notes on for whatever poor bastard has to go through my literary legacy after I die and see if there is anything useful left that can be published posthumously to help pay for the likely immense student loan bill that I’ll still owe at that point…

Yeah, you see: lots of other fears get swept up in this one, for all sorts of reasons. But, there is some strength and support to be gained in standing up and saying “Hey, here’s something I piss myself over that has nothing to do with other health issues!” (And, no, dear friends, I have not pissed myself, even a little, for almost twenty years, but thanks for asking!)

Okay…catharsis over; now, into the meat of things!

*****

Over the last few days, I’ve been having a very nice and useful conversation in the comments on this blog post with Aine Llewellyn, whose Patheos.com Pagan Channel blog has had some interesting things in it of late (and always!) that I wish I could comment on individually, but Disqus is still giving me problems…But anyway, one of the things that we discussed is how many of the notions of what is necessary and/or desirable amongst the modern pagan priest/ess/hood is unrealistic, not very useful, and completely not based on historical precedent or tradition. There are still further useful points to be made there, so I look forward to the time when he will write more on that matter, and I’ll be able to read it and point interested readers here toward it.

But then, right on cue, Sam Webster wrote this blog entry at Patheos as well. And, as much as I like Sam and think he’s got some interesting points to make there, I think his blog post falls into some of the errors that Aine and myself were discussing in comments earlier.

Much of the difficulty, I think, comes from Sam’s background in a UU (but mostly Christian-influenced and defined) theological context, which he is perhaps adopting in this particular case without as much reflection or critical examination as might be useful. I find this somewhat ironic, considering he is vehemently against some forms of Christian influence in modern paganism. While my own formal theological and religious studies training (as well as my training in some basic ministry matters, and in spiritual direction) comes from a Jesuit university, and is thus Christian (and specifically Catholic) in nature as well, and a great deal of it was and remains “useful to think with” even when it isn’t directly applicable to pagan or polytheist matters, nonetheless I had no illusions about how the institutional structure and some of its expectations are–in fact–not applicable in many cases to modern paganism, not appealing in some others, and in still further others not even possible. I don’t think it is a deficiency of modern paganism and polytheism that some of these things aren’t in any way do-able at this point, and I think that efforts should be expended toward developing these things not because we “should” in order to fit in more with existing templates of ministerial training provided by (mostly) institutional creedal monotheist religions, but instead because it is right for our own circumstances.

There is a great deal more that could be said on this, including how the “all things to all people” view of ministry, priesthood, and so forth is a pervasive and not-entirely-helpful meme in these matters; but, I’d like to further grapple with one matter that was part of Sam’s discussion, which I think really misses the mark where modern pagan and polytheist practices are concerned: as you will have guessed by the subject line of the present post, prophecy.

Sam says on this subject and the term “prophecy”:

Once meaning “speaking-for” the Deity and ultimately derived from that authority, although not usually meaning channeling these days, it is the task of critique and persuasive correction of the people. It is the often unpleasant and rarely thanked job of telling people where they are wrong. It is easy to lead when everyone wants to follow you and they agree with you. But when they don’t, when in your judgement they are making some kind of error, it is the duty of the minister to get up and use persuasion to change the people’s hearts and minds, their words and deeds—even at the risk of losing your job, which may be supporting your family. This requires courage and conviction, and is best backed up by education and compassion.

While this is a good definition of “prophecy” and the people who practice prophecy, namely “prophets,” it is a definition that is pretty much tied to Jewish and Christian practice, where “the prophets” were such correcters and judges of public morality who cajoled their people into returning to the right and proper ways of worshipping their god, in defiance of external pressures to either convert, assimilate, or to worship deities other than the Jewish one. This is the reason that, as Jesus himself said at one point, prophets are rejected in their own countries, because it takes chutzpah and more to stand up amongst one’s own people and say “Hey, you’re doing this wrong!” until you are blue in the face and worse.

[We all know what happens to pagans and polytheists who tell people they're "doing it wrong": they get branded as fundamentalists and called every nasty name in the book, amongst other things. Sure, it needs to be said sometimes, but I don't think this is "prophecy" as best understood within a pagan or polytheist context.]

This model of prophecy based on the Hebrew Bible’s prophets and their examples pretty much sets up the prophet as, likewise, a potential martyr, as someone who will be reviled and rejected as much as they might be believed or honored (usually long after they’re dead), and thus it’s even more problematic to take this as a model for modern pagans.

There are at least three notions of prophecy apart from this one that I can think of which would be applicable to modern pagans and polytheists:

1) Someone who prophesies about the future, and who is right–if one isn’t right, one is a false prophet, and that’s pretty well looked down upon, both historically and in the modern world. So, in some senses, this definition of prophet could even be close to someone who is a diviner, a medium, a soothsayer, or an oracle, but one who does their actions more in the public spotlight and (hopefully!) for the public welfare, whether that involves asking people to reform their behavior or not (as in the biblical model).

2) Often in Greek and Roman practice, a propheta or prophetes was, very specifically, a priest in an Egyptian cultus of some sort, particularly those of Isis and Serapis. One of the functionaries of Antinous in Rome was a prophetes, which might mean that even Egyptian-style or Egyptian-based priests of Antinous himself would have been called “prophets” by the Greeks and Romans, even if “prophecy” as we think of it along the lines of the above isn’t or wasn’t involved at all.

3) The third meaning is one that is shared with some other religions as well (e.g. Islam), but which equally applies to figures like Alexander of Abonuteichos, and which has some similarities with both the biblical meaning as well as the first of the above definitions, and that’s essentially someone who is a religious reformer, often one who introduces a new cultus or a new deity to a given area. Alexander of Abonuteichos did it with Glykon, basing his new cultus on various extant ones, but still locating it and its rites and mysteries within contemporary and prevailing contexts and cultures within ancient polytheism; Islam’s prophet did it with Allah as a singular deity, and changed the religion and culture of the Arabic world vastly in doing so. Even Aleister Crowley, no matter what you think of him (and he’s a Sanctus here, remember!), was a prophet within Thelema, and thus to a certain extent he is likewise in a lot of modern paganism and polytheism that has been influenced by him, whether people like that or not. Reform is not a requirement in these prophetic movements, but it is often expected, especially if a new deity or divine epiphany comes forth to respond to a need or a difficulty within society or a given group of people.

So, depending on who one asks, either #2 or #3 could potentially apply to me: the first in relation to Antinous and his Egyptian cultic aspects; the second in relation to the Tetrad++ Group, in my role as “god-discoverer” for them and expounder of their myths. The Tetrad++ themselves have a word for this role, and it’s one that I’m not especially comfortable with myself in having it be applied to me, but it’s the one they’ve said repeatedly, and which is probably not useful to flee from any longer…and, it’s the word we’re discussing here.

I’m waiting for that penny to drop for a moment while all of you reading this contemplate it, as I get ready for a deluge of “Whothefuckdoyouthinkyouare?”s that would make the “You’re doing it wrong” backlash look like a day with light winds.

You’ll notice, thus, that no matter how much I’ve admitted in the matters above, and despite what I’ve just told you in a roundabout way, I’m not going to stick that title on my list of identifiers in my biography, even though it’s true and gods-given, because I don’t want to have to deal with the comments of people who might say that I’m “self-proclaimed” or what-have-you…People fulfilling this role, in three of the four instances mentioned above (with #2 being the exception) have always done so at the risk of life and limb, property and reputation, and a variety of other things which the greater public has a way of impacting. Trust me, no one takes this role or title on for self-aggrandizement; if they do, they soon find themselves amidst a bloodbath or worse (figurative or literal) that demonstrates such self-aggrandizement is useless at best and downright dangerous and even life-threatening at worst.

But, in this role, I know I’m not alone in modern pagan, polytheist, and related religious contexts. There are others out there who are discovering new gods, or are helping to bring forth new aspects or epithets or instantiations of already-existing gods, and who are creating liturgies and communities and myths and other things relevant to such an endeavor. It’s not an uncommon thing, or at least not as uncommon as some might prefer to believe; and, I think, it’s a sign that what we’re doing actually works and is working for the gods themselves on a divine level, no matter how chaotic and disorganized and disagreeable our human communities and movements and groups might happen to be. It does not, alas, change everything and make everything “okay,” even in some small sections of our various communities, and it might even cause more problems than it solves, and thus may be more trouble than it is worth in the eyes of some; and yet, those of us who have this role take it very seriously and try to execute it as best we can.

While the more Jewish/biblical form of prophecy certainly has a potential role to play in modern queer theology (as most forms of liberation theology ultimately do), and thus critique and reform of social norms in light of spiritual principles might be something which not only could occur (and does occur) in modern paganisms and polytheisms, a far more likely scenario is that the prophetic function will be something limited to a relatively small number of individuals (though, as said, more than one might have assumed), and will not be something that anyone or everyone involved in pagan and polytheist clergy can or even should be “expected” in any way to do. Deities rarely confer prophetic status on someone at that someone’s initiative; it’s usually something that just happens, often without regard for a person’s position, knowledge, training, or identity and politics in any way at all, which means it is both a great equalizer and as much an oddity or even an encumbrance and inconvenience as it is a privilege and an honor.

Thus, I don’t think it is very useful at all to be looking at Jewish and Christian models of prophecy and prophets and prophetic activities in modern pagan and polytheist (and related) religions. Both of those are more or less useless in terms of dealing with the realities of newer and more unique theophanies; and while the attention to social critique and custom is potentially useful, the tried and true methods of learning spiritual technologies, discernment, interpretation, and being steeped in a given polytheistic practice or cultus or culture are far more important and useful in a pagan or polytheist practice of prophecy, I think.

I would be intrigued to hear the thoughts of anyone and everyone who has read any of the above and finds it useful to comment upon, so I look forward to that in the near future!

[from Londinium, c. late 2nd c. CE]

I am Isis, Goddess amongst goddesses, and God amongst the gods;

Amongst the councils of the goddesses I have been deemed most fair, both in justice and in beauty;

I have decreed that woman is sufficient unto herself to bring forth children on her own;

I have decreed that the Earth is herself divine, and brings forth as it pleases her;

I have decreed that equality is for all, in manner of life and in manner of death;

I have decreed that law is binding upon all, both gods and mortals;

From Hermes Trismegistus I learned the art of words, and to Hermes Trismegistus I taught the secrets of magic;

To mortals I have given the secrets of becoming divine in the Mysteries;

I have taught mortals and gods the art of becoming diverse shapes of beasts, and how to return to their own forms;

I have brought forth the child Hermanubis, by whom mortals are lead to discover my secrets;

I have brought forth the child Harpocrates, who knows all of my secret rites but speaks them only to those who understand silence;

I have united the disparate parts of my husband, Serapis, who reigns eternal with me;

Some I have favored to become queens and kings over mortals for their justice and piety;

Some I have gifted with the knowledge of the arts and the wisdom of nature for the elevation of their fellows;

With the star Sirius I have established the rising and receding of the Nile at their appropriate times;

I have made islands to rise from the sea and the waves for the habitations of mortals, like Crete and Cyprus, like Sicily and Sardinia, like Britannia and Hibernia;

I cause love to reign supreme in the hearts of mortals, whether it is love for their people, their city, their family, or their friends, whether it is love between men and women or women and women or men and men, or–most rare–the love of those born neither men nor women for others, and the rarer love of others for those born neither men nor women;

I have set down my judgements in the writings of mortals, in law and in poetry, and with Hermes Trismegistus I have taught mortals the knowledge of how to interpret words;

I have protected mortals in their times of exile, both Egyptian and Greek, both Roman and Gaul, both Thracian and Syrian, both Persian and Judean, both Scythian and Chaldean, both Ethiopian and Libyan;

I have given the gifts of ploughing, sowing, cultivating, and harvesting grains of the Earth, and of the knowledge of fruit-trees and vines, and of fishing in the sea and hunting in the wilderness;

With Helios and Selene I light the sky at dawn and at dusk, and through the night from a thousand points in the firmament;

The crafts of the dancer and the singer, the harpist and the flutist, the drummer and the sistrum-shaker, I have taught to mortals for the joy of the eternal gods;

I have taught mortals to cover their heads in grief at mourning, and women to howl forth laments when Death has taken his toll;

I have given to mortals the secrets of oracles, of speaking with the dead, of divining by signs from birds and clouds, and of the dice and the sticks and the stones and the divining from scrolls and books;

I have taught the arts of weaving to spiders, from whom mortals have learned to make nets and fine fabrics for garments both of everyday wear and for the holy mantles of the gods in their temples;

From the fires deep within mountains I have shown mortals how to turn stones into tools, into weapons for war, and into the fine ornaments of kings and gods;

I have crowned the wisdom of Pythagoras and Plato;

I have hidden the lands of Hyperborea and Atlantis from mortals due to their impurity;

I have raised mortals to divinity, like Alexander of Macedon, like Julius Caesar, like Antino–…

[text breaks off]

I have a few things of substance I’d like to post about in the near future, but I am running preciously low on neurotransmitters at the moment, so this is about all I can get out at the moment, I fear. I need some more sleep, I think.

In any case…

I often look at the search term that people use to find my blog, and some of them can be rather intriguing. In the last week, at some stage, someone used the search phrase of “Antinous son of Aphrodite” in order to find this blog, which I find intriguing for a number of reasons.

One reason is that the Citharoedic Hymn of Curium refers to Antinous as “offspring of the Gold-Winged Mother,” which refers to Aphrodite, and which would then make Antinous equal to Eros or perhaps syncretized to him. That certainly makes sense…

But, another possibility which suggests itself is that, with the parentage of Antinous suggested in the epic poem fragment from Oxyrhynchus that lists him as a son of the Argus-SLayer (i.e. Hermes), if we took the parentage of Aphrodite into consideration alongside this, that would then make Antinous equal to or syncretized with Hermaphroditos–which is very intriguing indeed!

Another hymn from Oxyrhynchus suggests that Antinous’ mother’s name was Mantinoë, which not only connects him to his Arcadian origins in Mantineia, but also further suggests the female heroine foundress of that city-state, Antinoë (which was also a by-name of the city of Antinoöpolis as well).

When we bring the city of Antinoöpolis into the equation, then we have a further suggestion of the possibility of Hathor as a mother goddess to the city, or to Antinous himself, which further links to Aphrodite via the common Graeco-Egyptian syncretism of the two goddesses.

And, if we bring Thrace into the picture, then Bendis also suggests herself as the Thracian mother-goddess who might have some connection to Antinous.

Jumping back to Egyptian and Graeco-Egyptian syncretistic matters, I’ve often said that as a fellow super-syncretistic deity, Serapis is like the grandfather of Antinous; and if we bring in Thracian super-syncretism, then Sabazios might fulfill a similar role. Or, perhaps Antinous is the nephew of one of these gods rather than the grandson…?!?

Bring in Eleusis, and Antinous could well be the son of Demeter, or “Mother Antaia” as the Orphic Hymns calls her at one point. That has various other implications that are also intriguing…

But, that’s the problem: we don’t know with any certainty what Antinous’ human parents were called; and yet, he may have any number of divine parents, even if they are not literally his divine parents and brought him into existence by having sex with one or the other of his human parents. There is room for notions of divine adoption, not unlike what Hera did for Herakles, and there are even some connections of Herakles being suckled by Hera to flowers, oil from those flowers, and deification by drowning, it turns out…I’ll perhaps speak more about those things later, once I have a bit more information on them.

Meanwhile, it seems that the Tetrad++ Group are not the only deities with multiple potential parentage far beyond the usual numbers we’re accustomed to seeing with human parentage! Perhaps they take after their father and grandfather Antinous in that very respect, indeed!

What do you think? Whom might be reckoned as the divine father and mother of Antinous? (And I’d be especially interested in knowing your thoughts on this outside of Greek, Roman, and Egyptian cultural mythological contexts…!)

His lovely face is back, in full force, in my life, and my immediate visual range, once again, dear friends…

So, I arrived back from our Foundation Day ritual for Antinous almost ninety minutes ago, and before I head to bed for the night for a few hours before I have to get up for work at 6 AM, I wanted to get a few thoughts down on how things went.

Including myself, there were eight people present at the ritual: five Mystai, one person I’d not met previously, one of my friends/students who was kind enough to drive, and myself. I brought a relatively small number of gods with me–Hathor, Bes, and Serapis, Wepwawet, Ianus, and Hekate, plus Polydeukion and all of the Divi of whom I have coins (Hadrian, Sabina, Aelius Caesar, Trajan, Lucius Verus, Marcus Aurelius, Plotina, Marciana, and Matidia), but others also brought Hermes, Apollon, Dionysos, Pan, and Aphrodite.

We did a variety of things slightly differently this year: no Obelisk of Antinous, for example, but instead the “Frankensteinian Hymn” from last year (which works incredibly well, and creates the space that the Obelisk also can in a different fashion–to the point that when we left, I had the strange woozy feeling I always get when stepping across a sacred boundary). We “plunked” our stones into the representation of the deifying and transforming waters of the Nile at the start. We also did the preliminary prayer to Antinous, and the prayers for Wepwawet, Hekate, and Ianus. We didn’t do the usual Foundation Day preface, but we did do the deification of Antinous via our version of Coming Forth By Day. We did the Prayer Against Persecution, and also the Antinoan Petition, in which everyone present offered prayers for themselves, and also many of our friends, allies, and co-religionists and community members were prayed for specifically and enthusiastically.

Then, we did several sacred dramas, including “Hadrian and Antinous” and “Foundation.” Then, I read the entirety (including the bits I haven’t posted yet) of “Nine Days Along the Nile,” and parts of it were extremely emotional for me as I read them–more so than I was expecting, actually, to the point I was having difficulty going on because I couldn’t read with all of the tears in my eyes. It was quite wonderful, though, and I’m glad I had a chance to do it. After that, Michael Sebastian Lvx also read the “Orphic Hymn to Antinous,” which was great to hear in a ritual context; we got all storax’d up during it, too. We had considered doing a few other things as well, but due to a variety of matters, we decided to start wrapping things up.

We mentioned one new Sanctus, Lou Reed, and then we ended things as usual, with the final words from Cicero, blessings, and V.S.L.M. Then, we shared the food offerings (in good Egyptian style, being that his deification was Egyptian in origin), which consisted of some lovely bread, and also a chocolate orange, which is now peer-corroborated gnosis as one of Antinous’ preferred offerings.

The ride home featured a lot of Lady GaGa, including the following song, which I’ve been listening to a lot this week, and which has some Antinoan resonances…gosh, I wonder why? (And, as the version here is a tribute to Jamey Rodemeyer Sanctus, it’s all the more appropriate for this occasion.)

As a few other notes for the past week:

1) I’ve been having what I can only call “psychic flashes,” starting on the first day of the Sacred Nights of Antinous. While I get these very occasionally, there have been multiple ones over the past week that have involved knowing the exact words someone will say, or premonitions (in the literal sense) of things that will not be pleasant to know/etc., often involving friends or co-religionists. I don’t know if it’s intensified by the season, or if this is just a coincidence. Anyway…

2) When I covered my image of Antinous at my home shrine in the last hour of the night before the Death of Antinous, I ended up having help in doing so from two unexpected sources: Freyr and some unspecified Celtic deities. I suspect that because of the Hibernian viewpoint of “Nine Days Along the Nile,” that might account for the latter…Of course, even though it was a sad occasion, I was grateful, pleased, and even slightly happy for the help I was given.

And, that’s about all I have to say about it for now…

If Foundation Day’s events do lend auspices for the coming year, then this next year should be fantastic…since last year’s was so bad and restrained, and the year that followed had some of the most difficult things I’ve experienced over the last few years, I can only assume that this next year will be much better in a great variety of ways.

I hope everyone else’s was good, and if you’d care to share your own observances, please feel free to do so in the comments below.

Ave Ave Antinoe–Haec Est Unde, Haec Est Unde, Haec Est Unde Vita Venit!

I’ve been reading bits from Arthur Darby Nock’s Essays on Religion and the Ancient World over the last few days, and look forward to reading more of it in the near future, in between full-length books that I am also reading and reviewing, on which more in the near future…

But, one of the things I was particularly looking for held, in certain parts, further treasures than I was expecting. There’s an article called “A Vision of Mandulis Aion,” and it has several partial translations of various inscriptions in it from a temple of the Nubian god Mandoulis at Talmis in Egypt. Here’s one that I think is great:

Maxims of Sansnos

Revere the divine.
Sacrifice to all the gods.
Travel in homage to each temple.
Believe above all in your ancestral gods and revere Isis and Sarapis, the greatest of the gods, saviors, good, kindly, benefactors.

While perhaps not as lengthy nor compelling as the Delphic Maxims, nonetheless some good and solid advice, wouldn’t you say?

And, here’s the vision of Mandoulis:

O rayshooting lord Mandoulis, Titan, Makareus, having beheld some radiant signs of thy power I pondered on them and was busied therewith, wishing to know with confidence whether thou art the sungod. I made myself a stranger to all vice and all godlessness, was chaste for a considerable period, and offered the due incense offering in holy piety. I had a vision and found rest for my soul. For thou didst grant my prayer and show me thyself going through the heavenly vault; then washing thyself in the holy water of immortality thou didst appear again. Thou didst come at due season to thy shrine, making thy rising, and giving to thy image to they shrine divine breath and great power. Then I knew thee, Mandoulis, to be the Sun, the allseeing master, king of all, allpowerful Eternity. O happy folk, that dwell in the city beloved of the Sun Mandoulis, even holy Talmis, which is under the scepter of the fairtressed Isis onof the countless names.

So, while there is some solar syncretism going on here–and possibly, with the mention of Isis, even some suggestion of Horus syncretism (which is somewhat standard for Mandoulis), nonetheless, it’s sort of fascinating to see how a person sought out a vision as answer to a question, and gave some details on how to prepare for such an experience.

But, you know: apparently, “regular people” in Egypt weren’t pious and didn’t have such a thing as piety. [No, of course, I don't mean that even remotely; but, it's been stated by a few people recently on th'internet, so you know it must be true.]