History, Myth and Genocide: Real and Imagined; Or The Pagan Problem with Patrick

Been working on this particular piece for some time, but it is finally ready to go, and here it is. The third and final installment of my "St. Patrick's Day Trilogy". If you ever need to provide or "prove" to some obstinate, black armband wearing Pagan, that the psudeo-history of the "real" meaning of St. Patrick's Day is bullshit, this is it.

Enjoy.

http://www.gaolnaofa.org/website-updates/new-article-history-myth-and-genocide-real-and-imagined-or-the-pagan-problem-with-patrick/

-Gorm.

Why the resurrection doesn't matter to this polytheist

I'm not a Christian.

A good life is the best defence

A friend of mine, well maybe that's too strong a word at this time, how about an associate of mine, a nice guy I knew in high school who ran in the same social group, is a Christian. Always has been, always will be. So, he is still grouped among "friends" on my Facebook, and often enough he would post typically Christian things: scriptural passages from the Bible, how a particular passage was reflected in his own experience that day, praise and thanks to his god, extolling how great his god is, and every now and then links to blogs or articles by like minded Christian bloggers. Which is how I happened upon a testimonial, a story, by a Preacher, called "Will God Protect My Children?"  ( I won't link to it, I have standards after all, but you can find it easily enough).

The tale is prefaced by briefly recounting a misspent youth of a somewhat debauched nature (or enough so that our stalwart preacher was wallowing, if not participating), with his then atheist comrade. Being a good Christian, his duty to convert his chum was ever present, but was relatively unsuccessful, and flash forward some years. The atheist friend is at a similar point in his life, but something is missing: family, friends, gainful employment and material security are not enough. No, there is a hole in this mans being, and our Preacher knows that it is Christ shaped. Everything is primed for the conversion, to score that big W for Jesus.

Next come the feeble, halfhearted attempts to explain away why this atheist friend dislikes Christianity: Christians are legalistic moralizers. Bang "Grace theology" slays that one. Next, Christians are naive and can't really hold up to intellectual scrutiny (just what sort of atheist is this guy, anyway?). Poof, drop some books which repeat the ontological argument. Finally, the man is ready to relent; the I need something deeper atheist has relented and he's coming down, ready to make Jesus his personal lord and savior. Suddenly and without warning, he is confronted with the grim reality of death. Not death, in and of itself, but loss, grief; our Preacher's sister had died unexpectedly. The tragedy reverberated through the family, touching everyone in the way that only grief can. The liminal Christian is now overcome with doubt with fear; for if the Christian god could take away the sister of such a devout family, what hope was there for his own children? The preacher then goes on to talk of three "typical" Christian responses, but himself makes the case that "His will be done" and you hope for the best. You become a Christian because it is true, not because you get stuff (like divine protection, prosperity or security). Which is a refreshing answer, if rehashed and simply fallen from favour. We never do find out if the liminal Christian took the plunge, though I would suspect he did.

So why do I care?

I care because, despite the message of "I don't know what [the Christian] god's will is", at the end of the day the take away message from this whole piece is still "don't doubt, trust Jesus". Despite the admission of not having all the answers, "Jesus is still THE answer". I accept that this story, and the figures in it are real enough, but they could just as easily sprung from the pen or keystrokes of a preacher. The necessary tropes, the framework for conversion narrative is all here, you can almost feel the thin, neon pink paper of the tract between your fingers. Let's do a quick run through of the conversion narrative flags our "atheist" has activated:

1. Previous life of (youthful) debauchery. Check
2. Seemingly happy life beset by absence. Check
3. Current worldview no longer enough. Check
4. Life altering event (like having children). Check
5. Faithful friend who is among the faithful. Check
6. Religion [our convert it converting too] so much more than he thought it was. Check
7. Conversion. Check

The most significant difference from your typical conversion narrative is that it is not the conversion, in and of itself, which changed the man's life. No, his life from appearance seemed to be pretty good. He was happily married, with children, stable employment and martial security; true our "atheist" is presented as having had a youth of excess, but that seems to be just that, in his past. His life is not in danger and he is not suffering through any sort of physical or financial crisis. No his crisis is existential, one of seeking for some way out of his ennui; seeking the profound with no idea where to begin on his own, but he has this one Christian friend who is also a preacher...

Proselytization, the promotion of ones religion with the goal of winning converts, is and remains an act of disrespect, hostility and depredation. Even a cursory examination of conversion narratives, like the one I outline above, would support this assertion. It is an act of well intentioned arrogance which seeks to find and exploit weakness. Whether it is a weakness of physicality (i.e. substance abuse or addiction), a weakness of character (i.e. criminality) and even a weakness of mind (i.e. existential questioning), it does not change the fact that it is exploitative and opportunistic. As the Preacher stated in his blog:

"He’s thinking about bigger, more profound things. I’m teaching about bigger, more profound things."

Which is not to say that seeking out meaning, asking those questions of profundity, are necessarily bad or necessarily make you vulnerable to people hocking (easy) answers; only that they can leave you vulnerable. If something is missing and you have been culturally conditioned to recognize the spiritual or philosophical authority of a given group of people, and they are also "friends" with you, and they have been making subtle suggestions about what questions to ask, and where to find answers, well if you happen to find yourself being swayed by such arguments, it isn't exactly shocking. Coupled with that the fear, the gnawing fear about the future and what may be, and then won't somebody please think of the children!

Truly, parenthood has produced far more cowards than war ever could.

I do not wish to speak down to, nor minimize the very real anxiety that parents necessarily feel about their children. I hope to be a parent myself one of these days, and expect much fear and anxiety to come. Except that I hope, I believe, that my courage will be sufficient to allay my fears. That my sincerity in my ethics will outweigh my hypocrisy, that I will not abandon everything I believe in because they will be "MY KIDS!!!".

I do wish, however, to bring this discussion full circle and at long last bring in the title of this post. We can observe that the "atheist" (an this seems as good a time as any, but I sincerely doubt just how much of an atheist this fellow could have been, if his mind was so easily swayed by reading a couple of apologetic monographs coupled with gentle pastoral cajoling) appears to have a nice enough life, all things considered. Yet, it is always worth the time to remind ourselves that enjoyment of life is not the same thing as "the good life", because clearly this man believed his life, his worldview was insufficient. There was something missing, and in this case it was profundity and meaning; a spiritual and philosophical void that needed to be filled, and how lucky to have a "friend" who could help him with that.

I propose then, that in the case of missionizing and proselytizing, the single best defense is to already have a good life. Yeah, you will say, and the best defense against poverty is to already be wealthy, and against sickness to be healthy. Thank you Capt. Obvious! You would be right to point out such obvious truisms, but hear me out. What I mean in this idea, is that proselytizers prey upon the perception of weakness, of deficiency. Seeking out any and all means of penetrating their target's defenses and attacking their self. They need to find that hole in your "being", and then they need to convince you to fill it with Jesus.

Proselytizing is the only real tool that such folks have at their disposal in this day and age to gain converts, and they have a formula and the means to carry out their missionizing efforts. The keystone to the whole scheme, however, is that there needs to be a "chink in the armour" which they can exploit. Without it, well they have nothing. How are you going to sell someone on the necessity of Christ who already has a fully developed worldview that does not involve him? How can a weakness be exploited if there isn't one? Enter fear, malaise and doubt.

I've linked above to a much older post of mine where I examine some examples of "Ex-Pagan" conversion narratives and the one thread which links them all together is that in the mind of the converted, their current worldview was lacking in some respect. It failed to deliver, was revealed to be empty or could not offer what the ex-member expected it to. The fault was not in the ex-member, of course, but in the religion (gods, ritual, lack of community, etc.). It could not fill the Jesus shaped hole because... well because what they were trying to fill it with was not Jesus shaped. This is where the juggernaut of cultural force comes into play, and here in North America, Christianity remains the default setting for "religion". Most of the folks who are "ex-Pagans" had previously been Christians or had some manner of Christian up bringing, and so their expectation of how other religions, other gods ought to work, was skewed from the beginning.If the filters and biases of the previous worldview are not replaced by something else, by an internal adoption of the new world view, then the malaise and creeping pessimism will fester until they crawl, walk or run back into the arms of where they used to be.

Superficiality, it turns out, is what the key exploit is in cases of "ex-Pagan" conversion narratives. Even among those who have been immersed in, promoted by, and made a name for themselves as "BNP's", none of this will produce immunity from something which, by its very nature, is insidious. If you have a Jesus shaped hole in your being, ain't nothing other than Jesus gonna fill it. No matter how sure you are in your outward convictions, no matter how often you lie to yourself and state otherwise, if you fail to internalize a non-Christian world view, you will fail at being a non-Christian. I'm not saying that it is an easy thing to do, only that it is necessary.

It is necessary because for those who have no part of the Christian perspective on divinity, afterlife and ethics, no matter how compelling the argument for, there is nothing a proselytizer can offer (except, perhaps, a personal relationship with Jesus). What I am getting at is that if there is no weakness in your worldview to exploit, the arguments and tactics will fail because they are not enough on their own; the proselytizer needs that "in". If you have a meaningful relationship with the gods, if you live a life of honour and morality, if you are aware of your faults and have a means to address and improve upon them, then what could the proselytizer "sell" you that you do not already have? You will be offered theological arguments that are designed to appeal to the default setting, but so what? You reject the most basic of assumptions that will be offered (monotheism, sin, salvation, heaven, hell, ethics, etc), so there is no intellectual, spiritual or emotional argument to compel you when your perspective is held to be sufficient.

Which is not to say, then, that polytheists are necessarily without flaws or weaknesses. The gods know I have many, and I am certain that you all may as well. This isn't about some self aggrandized, self perfection that only we special snowflakes can obtain. This is about having an intrinsic perspective which informs our thoughts and beliefs, and allows us to understand why we believe what we do, and further, how this can then relate to other peoples perspectives. It may be easier for me than it has (or will be) for others because I've never had that Jesus shaped hole. I was never a Christian, nor were my parents, or immediate family (until well after I had begun forming my own opinions about things), and so those creeping doubts and longings never occurred, and in this respect I am lucky.

What we need then is to instill in ourselves, in our communities, a sense that our worldview is worthy of existing, of being maintained and then passed onto our descendents. But saying it, shouting it at the top of our lungs will amount to nothing, if we do not believe it and if we do not act upon it. We need to instill that our gods have a place in our lives, that our ancestors are worthy of reverence and our interactions with the spirits of place are necessary. That such views inform and instruct our actions, that our lives are lived and lived well. For when it comes to standing firm against proselytizers, those who would knowingly exploit the vulnerable, a good life is the best defense.

-Gorm.

Love is overrated

 

Makes for a nice poster, but no, no it isn't.

 

Love is not the be all and end all of everything, but you could be forgiven for mistaking the concept as a panacea for the universe. From literature to film, television to song, religion to philosophy and everything in between, "love" is popularly represented as the ultimate value' surpassing even life itself. In fact, to be without love is held to be one of the greatest tragedies one can have occur during the course of ones life, and to some extent I agree with such a sentiment. Yet the hyperbole and fervor with which western culture has come to understand and laud "love" is so excessive that other values and pursuits utterly pale in comparison. Honour, Justice, Valour or Wisdom? Fuck all of that shit, all the world needs is love. Well, I beg to differ, but as always a caveat, lest you think me curmudgeonly.

 

I am in love, have been in love and will likely continue to be in love until I die. I am happily married, and in my wedding vows expressed the depths of my commitment and love for my wife. This is not a polemic against the idea of romantic love, or love in general. Rather, my goal is to explore the culture which has been built up around the centrality of love as the singular goal worth striving for in ones life, and argue that for GRP's this model is untenable and other values are just as, if not more important than love. Remember that love is important, just over rated.

 

Popular fiction is the flagship for so many of a societies' values, of its aspirations and dreams, that it is difficult to find a more staunch proponent of love as the be all and end all of human endeavour. I realize, as a matter of course, that outliers in both forms of media exist, but they remain outliers; exceptions to the rule remain just that, exceptions. While it is encouraging to see satirical and critical examinations of this cultural obsession with love, they have remained ineffectual in shifting any paradigms beyond sub genre and subculture (even the disparate counter cultures that have arisen have accepted love as a central value, if slightly redefined to buck the mainstream).

 

Fiction and music, on the whole, emphasize love and in the broadest sense this is meant as eros, or romantic love. It is remarkable enough if a film or story does not contain some element in which the male and female leads become romantically involved. Or, to put it another way, while the quest element of a film may not be romance in and of itself, said romance often enough supplants the quest, to become the real point of the story. Let's look at one of my favourite of the current Marvel Studio's films, 'Thor", to showcase this perspective. "Thor" is a very basic story at it's roots, it is a component of the "hero's quest" where as a consequence of the hero's vanity or hubris, conflict emerges, the hero is removed from his lofty position and forced to redeem himself through trial and tribulation. Yes, the film cuts out the element of the origin story involving the crippled doctor, which was essentially retconed away in the later comics anyway, substituting pathos for slapstick, but I digress. Thor, in his very brief jaunt on earth, also falls in love, and while it is a subplot to the greater narrative of the film, by the time the credits begin to roll, the love between Jane Foster and Thor frames everything which is to follow (and indeed does in the sequel.) Thor, then has redeemed himself in the eyes of his father and community, yet he remains distraught because he was forced to (temporarily) sacrifice the aforementioned love. So here is the first really solid point; even when there is no "happy ending" (where the couple is together at the end of the film), the act of sacrificing that relationship has untold power and value. So much so that this romantic love supplants the value of compassion and leadership; a lesson is learned, but the cost is great (too great it seems). What is the point of all this new found wisdom, if Thor can't be with the woman he loves?

 

Now, this is but one example of the multitude of film, and I could go on and on about romance supplanting the original values sought, but I'm fairly certain that as far as film and romance goes, it is self evident. So I turn now to other variations of love in other films: Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter.

 

The LOTR films cover an enormous swath of geography and characters, if a short period of time (in the main narrative anyway). The upshot is that that while the romantic elements were heavily expanded upon in the films (particularly the Aragorn, Arwen, Éowyn love triangle) it never manages to eclipse everything else that happens. So while Jackson did his best to shoehorn in romance (after all, audiences crave it) the kind of love that was the focus of the film was philia and agape (or friendship and selfless devotion). I think the films did an admirable job of translating this component of the novels, if only to be utterly misunderstood by audiences and relentlessly mocked. Modern movie going folk were so utterly ignorant of concepts like philia and agape (outside of a very famous, yet specific context) that they themselves invented their own romantic subplot, homoerotic as it may have been. Of particular note is the relationship between Sam and Frodo, an exemplar of agape love if there ever was one. Sam is utterly devoted to Frodo, is willing to travel the breadth of the world they inhabit, to the very source of the evil they seek to destroy, to the extent of being willing to sacrifice his life should the need arise. Such devotion is admirable, especially since it is reciprocated by Frodo. Yet the framework for such a relationship, the means of understanding and explaining such selfless devotion between two people who were not blood relatives, was for the vast majority of people, eros. Or more accurately, since no physical expression of this love occurs, the subtext was held to have been extremely homoerotic. So while it is a subtext, and such is usually the source of humour, the point remains that agape love was the linchpin of the entire story; "Frodo wouldn't have gotten far without Sam."

Turning now to Harry Potter, the power of love, particularly storge (or familial love), is hammered home again, and again, and again. An old and powerful magic, a mother putting herself between harm and her child; powerful enough to destroy the most powerful dark wizard of all time. Throughout the novels, this protection remains until it transforms into something different. It is at this point that we can move away from looking at fiction to sourcing the centrality of love to something else. In the last film Harry sacrifices himself to save his friends, the order of the Phoenix and everyone else at Hogwarts. He purposefully seeks out his own death in payment for the protection of those he loves. Note, however, that it is not simply Ginny Weasley he seeks to protect, but everyone. What is not presented in the film, however, is the result that his sacrifice has (other than destroying the penultimate Horcrux). In the novels, his sacrifice literally protects everyone from Voldemort's magic, which is rendered utterly ineffectual. Is it any wonder than that there exist books like "Jesus Potter Harry Christ"?, because the only way the parallel could have been stronger is if Harry had of been crucified (well he was crucio'd...). The day is saved by love, agape love, and this is precisely the sort of love which is exemplified in the central figure in the Christian religion, Jesus Christ.

Here we come face to face with that "very famous, specific" example of love understood outside the confines of romance or kinship. The love of Christ, the love for which his apostles forswore all else to seek after him, and which he ultimately sacrificed himself for, was one of utter devotion. An utter devotion so intense that it spread to the whole of humanity, for all of time. So while the precise term agape may be relatively underutilized in common parlance; the value and significance of what it represents has been one of the singular forces shaping western culture for the past two millennia. Christians are theologically conditioned to recognize that sacrifice as the most important single act in human history, and western culture certainly follows suit. There are few acts held to be as noble or inspiring as the willingness of someone to give up their own life, for that of another. So while sacrifice is by no means unique to Christianity, as far as cultural underpinnings go, it is difficult to escape the impact this model of sacrifice has had upon western culture in general. So to by proxy the value of love as expressed through the teachings of Christ ( "But now faith, hope, love abide these three; but the greatest of these is love" Corinthians 13:13, "...thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself" Mark 12:31) have also had a profound impact upon the culture.* This is the "love" so often sung about, so often expressed across religious bounds, which has over time mingled, very gradually, with the idea of romantic love.

Having established how love is represented and why it is held among moderns to be the ultimate pursuit, let us turn our attention to sources from Gaelic myth which touch upon and explore the importance of love (in its various forms). The two tales I would like to focus on are: ""Longes mac n-Uislenn " and "Tóraigheacht Dhiarmada agus Ghráinne ".

 

Longes mac n-Uislenn, or "The exile of the sons of Uisliu" is often grouped among the remscéla (or fore-tales) of the "Táin Bó Cúaligne". The purpose of the story, as it relates to the Táin, is that it explains why Fergus and other Ulster heroes are fighting for the Connachtmen during said story. The basic plot revolves around Deirdre, a maiden betrothed to Conchobar, falling in love with Noisiu, their elopement, trials in exile, eventual return, betrayal and violent deaths. I certainly do not do it justice here, but the reason the tale is relevant to this discussion is the action/decision upon which the bulk of the narrative hangs; Deirdre's and Noisiu's elopement. The "young lady intended for an old man, falls for young man, and they run off" trope is of a rather ancient pedigree, and this tale is a shining example of that trope. Deirdre is raised, almost to the extent of being cloistered, for the sole purpose of becoming a wife of Conchobar. She by chance happens to see Noisiu, and his beauty overwhelms her, and despite his initial protestations he too falls for her beauty. They elope, and flee Ireland to settle in Scotland, and the tale goes on. Conchobar is understandably furious, and being a schemer, arranges for their return that he may have his revenge. Noisiu and his brothers are eventually killed, and as punishment for her crimes Deirdre is made to marry Eogan mac Duthacht (the man who killed Noisiu), upon which she kills herself by leaping from a chariot and smashing her head against a rock. The tale is rightly so grouped among the "three most sorrowful tales of Irish literature", and we as readers cannot help but feel bad for Deidre and Noisiu, and hate Conchobar. Except Conchobar is in the right.

 

That's right, Conchobar is totally justified in his anger at this betrayal, by his own nephew even, and that his intended bride ran off with another man. His later actions are abhorrent, his eventual betrayal of Fergus unforgivable, and his final treatment of Deirdre terrible, but he is initially right. Deirdre and Noisiu both knew what they were doing was wrong, but did it anyway regardless of the very dire consequences sure to happen. Noisiu's brothers both try to convince him that his actions are folly, that death and disaster would pursue them, but being unable to convince him, go along with him. Conchobar's honour is impugned, and the honour price is steep. This entire calamity could have been avoided if only two young lovers had resisted their passion, and acted according to their duty. I realize this is anathema to modern sensibilities, but there in lies the rub. Romantic love trumps duty and obligation now, but that shit did not fly in Iron Age Ireland. So, lets move on to the next tale. 

 

The second tale to examine is Tóraigheacht Dhiarmada agus Ghráinne , or "The pursuit of Diarmuid and Grianne", which is part of the Fenian cycle. One of the more widely known Fenian tales, and great favourite of folklore (considering how many stones are recounted as "beds of Diarmuid and Grianne" which dot the Irish countryside). The motif is the same as the tale above, but the consequences play out slightly different. Grianne is yet another Irish beauty of legend, and is also intended to Fionn mac Cumhaill (again in this narrative considerably older than Grianne). The other figure of note in this tale is Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, one of Fionn's retainers and core member of the Fianna under Fionn's leadership. Grianne, being disappointed with the prospect of becoming the aged Fionn's wife, places a sleeping draught in the cups of the Fianna, and leaves only a handful of them awake. She asks each of the still conscious men to elope with her, but they all refuse. She then places a geis upon Diarmuid, that forces him to run off with her. Diarmuid is reluctant but has little recourse, and they flee. Fionn awakes and in righteous anger pursues the couple across the whole of Ireland, with many interesting events occurring, including the continued aid of Aengus Og, Diarmuid's foster father. Eventually Fionn pardons the couple, and they marry and have several children. The addendum to the tale involves the culmination of this and another tale, where Diarmuid is gored to death after slaying a giant boar. Fionn has the chance to heal Diarmuid, three times even, but each time declines to do so, and Diarmuid dies.

 

So the end result is tragic, but not nearly as tragic as the tale with Deirdre and Noisiu, as Diarmuid and Grainne do wind up together and have children. Fionn is represented as the primary antagonist throughout the narrative, and is made fool of on many occasions. Yet, the entire affair began because of the decision of Grianne to abandon her sworn oath to marry Fionn, because of her love for Diarmuid, and their fate was sealed the moment she placed a geis upon Diarmuid to elope with her. As much as the reader is meant to root for the young lovers against the aged rival, that Fionn's anger and pursuit of the pair who wronged him is never in question. Fionn is utterly humiliated and disgraced by those whom he trusted, Diarmuid breaks his own vows of loyalty to his leader, and disharmony abounds. As light hearted as the narrative is, and despite the initial positive result for the lovers, Diarmuid's death is a direct result of this tragedy. Both men are good and just, fair and honourable, yet because love is allowed to supersede duty and obligation, tragedy (eventually) comes to pass. 

 

The singular point which leaps off the page, one of the central "morals" of the tales, is that when romantic love is placed before duty, grave consequences follow. This is again not to under value love, as the motif of "wasting" or "love" sickness is common enough; the power of love is undeniable. Only that from the perspective of the culture, when romance is placed above all else, disaster and tragedy are the consequences. As difficult as it may be for modern sensibilities about the role that romance and individual choice play in marriage, such was not the case during the period in question. I have long argued that the values, the core ethical framework which bound pre-Christian Gaelic society together (and for a considerable time after the conversion to Christianity) were communal in nature; the good of the group came well before the good of the individual. While it would be foolish to seek after a return to wholly communal values (individualism is far too ingrained in us now), as GRP's we ought to be doing our best to restore and live by the ethics which are the legacy of our forebear's. Indeed if any form of love I have discussed above was held to be important, it would have been storge, or kinship. The loyalty to ones family, the family's loyalty to the clan, the clans loyalty to the tuatha; was the microcosmic supporting the macrocosmic. Considering how great a crime like kin-slaying was, this comes as no surprise. Romantic love, also, has its place and is the focus of many tales, but you will note that in such tales where it is treated as noble and worth striving for, it is never at the cost of honour or society in general.

 

There needs to be a balance between ones passion and ones duty, and we see time and time again in the tales the consequences of passion gone too far. Ruination follows in its wake, primarily because it stands against tradition and the right order of things. We may root for the lovers, sympathetic as they may be, but their transgressions threaten not only themselves, but their communities as well. Here then is the dissonance between modern sensibilities inherent in the over culture, and our adopted values as GRP's. In the sort of generalized ethical modes, or categories present in CR, of the values espoused by the texts, love is notably absent. Wisdom, Justice, Honour, Loyalty, Courage are however all present, and certainly love can have a place within such concepts (particularly loyalty and courage), but it ought not to supersede them. Honour, for example, is one of the most romanticized virtues and values, yet it is so misunderstood that it is rejected out of hand. Honour necessarily exists only where the is community to render an individual as honourable. It is a virtue that can not exist alongside rugged individualism, because honour is inexorably linked to reputation. How often in films or fiction does ones reputation count for nothing, how easily is it abandoned for the sake of love? Remarkably simple really; reputation counts for nothing when it stands in the way of love, and so to must honour.

 

If we are to openly and fully live as GRP's, then there will be times where we are at odds with our families, friends, cohorts and society at large; at least when it comes to ethics and behaviours. Many of our values overlap, but often enough they are at odds with positions so taken for granted, they are the default. The first step is to recognize that these differences exist and that the default cultural conditioning needs to be overwritten. As I mentioned in my previous post, given that we have already bucked the trend of a monotheistic approach to deity; that other conceptual changes need to occur should be obvious, but not terribly difficult to accomplish. This may cause some friction with other people in our lives, yet if we really do seek to fully embrace GRP then it has to extend beyond our devotions to the na trí naomh. It needs to encompass our very way of seeing and being in the world and this extends to how we comport ourselves, the values we embody and which we need to transmit to future generations.

 

We can not turn back the clock, and there is a multitude of reasons that even if we could, we would not want to. It is important to recognize that we do not live in the Iron Age, just as it is important to recognize that reconstruction in not re-enactment. Not every scrap and every practice is valuable to a 21st century worldview, but this does not preclude that the values of our ancestors which may have been placed on the cultural back burner should also be forgotten. There is so much value in restoring, well, more antiquated values and these values naturally flow from our more overtly religious devotion and the tales which inform that devotion. So enjoy romance, celebrate friendship, reinforce ties of kinship, and devote yourself to those who are worthy of your devotion. Just be mindful that love isn't the only thing worth living for: live with honour, speak with truth, act with valour, judge with wisdom and enjoy with hospitality.

 

-Gorm.

 

* For a slightly more in depth examination of this cultural shift, see Kelly and Dryfus, "All Things Shining".

So (explitive) Pious

Some recent Troll activity on my blog has got me to thinking, so thank you anonymous Troll, you've actually helped me to generate content. One term which came up, time and time again in this childish tantrum that was supposed to come off as "comments", was piousness; specifically my own. It was used in an effort to deride, and I find this rather confusing: when did piety make the transition from virtue to vice?

The context tended towards the adjective "fucking" with the coordinating conjunction "so". I believe the fault may lie with the Troll, who just tacked on pious as some abutment to the real insult, sanctimony. Generally for piety to be insulting or used to damage ones honour, it requires a proper noun to imply a more problematic state: "pious fraud" or "pious hypocrite". Both of those phrases are certainly equivalent to the state of sanctimony, so using them together is rather redundant. Certainly this followed, as the word sanctimonious did pop up in one or two of the diatribes, but again it beguiles one as to why piety would itself be considered problematic?

 

Pious (from the Latin pīus, derived from the pIE-*pey) is the quality of piety [reverence or devotion to something (generally a deity)] one has. It has been a hallmark of the character of an individual or group as it relates to being in good standing with the gods (or later God), and so has generally been an uncontested virtue, as far as virtues go. Pietas, (i.e. piety) in the Roman world was often contrasted with superstitio (the root of the English "superstition", but different in meaning) which was a slavish devotion borne out of fear of the gods anger. The former is virtuous because it encourages behaviours which foster the proper relationship one ought to have with the gods; whereas the later is a vice because while it too engenders devotion, it is a devotion rooted in a dysfunctional relationship with the gods. How then have we gotten to a point where piety is something which is in itself problematic?

 

Well, by arriving at a cultural view where everything and everyone are inherently corrupt or flawed to some degree, and so thus rendering piety as sanctimony. This is interesting, because the two terms are related, and so this is a visible descent within the context of language. There was a period when sanctimonious (from the Latin sanctimonia, holy/sacred action) was cognate with pious; at some point, however, the term became synonymous with false piety. The idea that an individual or group was putting on airs to appear pious, but that their actions were not at all reflective of such a state of being. Perhaps this new found disdain for piety itself is simply a continuation of this descent. Though, and this is where things start to branch off, piety is not the only term which (may) be one so loaded with cultural baggage that for many coming from minority theological positions, that it isn't worth "saving".

 

This touches on a much wider theological discussion (one which is to some degree or another ongoing among polytheistic and Pagan bloggers), but a conclusion which many seem to reach is this: having these discussions is, while not difficult, complicated by the predominant theological framework our language (in this case English, but it could be extended to any Western one, Gaelic [broadly] being no exception) and culture are beholden to monotheism and especially Christianity. Piety, Worship, Prayer, Theology, Holy, and so forth, are all terms that in popular parlance are loaded with preconceptions rooted in Christian tradition.

 

Herein our troubles begin, because this cultural view is pervasive and dominant, and even those smug Atheists (not all Atheists. NOT ALL ATHEISTS. Just the smug ones (like the troll I mentioned above) who find it necessary to belittle theism and theists of any and all stripes) find themselves couching terms and arguing from presuppositions. To the extent that being held to be pious from such a perspective is but a breath away from being labeled "holier-than-thou". The phrase betrays a theological (and widely cultural) perspective that makes many assumptions, and holds them to be more true than not. The expression refers to an attitude or belief (as reflected in thought and deed) that one holds oneself as being morally superior to another; this sentiment is almost always attached to feigning said morality. This sentiment has descended to a state where morality can not be measurable and so necessarily, to hold that oneself as being more moral than someone else, is being sanctimonious. Except this argument is bunk, hokum and falderal; logically there are people who are demonstrably more moral than others. This stance on behaviour and superiority/failing ties back to a much earlier post I wrote about why the faculty of judgement is good, and that such a perspective can trace its origins to Christian theology. What follows is a bit of a digression, but is nonetheless pertinent to the topic at hand, so please bear with me.

 

In the past (recently no less) I would have made an argument about Christians holding people to be worthless, because of sin, and in that state of worthlessness, all are equal and none have the right (or ability) to judge anyone else. In fact this issue sort of came to a head in a discussion I was involved in relating to the use of the term "worship" (which I will touch on below). Someone called me out on my statement (being seen as just another "attack" on Christianity). Having myself to have taken a step back, because it occurred to me during the discussion that I had grossly generalized a much more complex state of affairs. Christianity may be monolithic, but the religions(et. denominations) that make up the whole of Christendom are hardly unified. Protestantism itself seems to be as highly fractious as Paganism (and some may argue that this fractiousness among Paganism is in fact a holdover from this religious perspective, but perhaps more on this some other time). With this in mind, the understanding of concepts like "sin" and "atonement" vary wildly among Christians, and so trying to form a cohesive pronouncement on the entire group is fraught with peril. I think my perspective has been greatly coloured by my time spent on interfaith web forums, where the natural state of affairs is that Evangelicals tend to dominate the Christian communities, and given their influence (or visibility) in media, this can most definitely create theological tunnel vision, where this is Christianity. So when asked to provide an example of a religion where people were undervalued (or held to be worthless) my immediate response was 'Christianity".

This needed to be qualified, and my visceral reaction was grossly unqualified. It appears at first blush to be more accurate, a core belief even, than not so. Given the idea of human agency having little actual impact in a good number of Protestant religions (particularly those who accept "free grace" theology), when it comes to positive moral action, even to the extent of being able to accept Christianity (or specifically their salvic figure) without some divine mandate, it stands to reason that humans as fallen, generally miserable creatures, are not presented, nor held with much esteem. It is easy to then turn and say, "Well if people are held to be intrinsically terrible, it stands to reason that they haven't got much worth. This is why the idea of 'Grace' is so appealing, because even though humanity is not worthy enough to be saved, the Christian god is merciful enough to give it none the less." This was my general stance towards Christianity in general then, and to be fair I think many among us would reasonably reach this conclusion if this was the message that the Christians we knew personally, discussed religion with regularly, or were exposed to via multi media constantly were presenting to us. Then again, simply because one perspective is the most noticeable, it is by no means the largest, let alone only one available.

 

The truth of the matter is that "Free Grace" is something which is a core doctrine of only some Protestant churches, not all, and this does not then account for Catholicism nor the Orthodox church. The idea of personal atonement, penance and restitution through the actions of both the laity and the clergy, as well as the acknowledgement that humans have moral agency, stands in stark contrast with the assertion I made in the context of the conversation I mentioned above. Religions are no so simple, and theology and doctrine are complex enough to stymie easy answers and gross generalizations.

 

Having said all of that, there is no doubt in my mind that the attitudes among many folks presently with regards to attitudes like "don't judge me", "being holier-than-thou" and "so (expletive) pious" can trace their origins to some of the cultural baggage of Christian theology/doctrines like sin, guilt and religious hypocrites. The gospel authors have seen to it that the Pharisees have been one of the most maligned historic figures, well ever. The term itself is synonymous with sanctimony, but the cultural impact of the idea extended far beyond the first century CE. As my troll illustrates and as a generalized sentiment I have experienced time and time again, there is a deep mistrust of people who are seen to be "too moral", almost to the extent of it manifesting as misanthropic glee. A holdover from anti-clericalism perhaps, or a natural result stemming from a never ending cycle of clerical betrayal. In such a context, it is fairly understandable; a sacred trust which is continually betrayed is hardly any sort of trust and certainly not sacred. Reverence and deference to moral authorities have been superseded by a deep seated cynicism to the extent that for many anyone who appears to be moral for the sake of morality (or devout for the sake of the gods) is automatically red flagged. Even if that person is not in a position of authority, the general sentiment remains. It is a very regrettable state of affairs.

 

It is regrettable because the simple state of virtuous living can be looked at askance and made to seem wrong. It is my opinion that this position is based largely on an individuals insecurities being projected onto those they deem as making them feel insecure in the first place. People are also often fully justified in their cynicism, and it is remarkably easy to just abandon standards and expectations (either of oneself or others) and just "get on with it".

 

And yet ease is not necessarily the most effective measure of quality. I think that striving for a better state of affairs, again personally or collectively, is a worthy endeavour and living a virtuous life is an important part of that endeavour. Human flourishing will always be worth the effort one invests to attain it, and for me (and others like me) piety is one of the virtues which encompasses a good life. I am unabashed in my devotion to the dé ochus andé, and I would think that such a position is patently obvious to anyone who reads this blog. Having and fostering standards of ethical behaviour is not, and will never be problematic. I suppose that, given everything I've said that I am, in fact, so (expletive) pious.

Oisin or Cailte?

Fenian lore, in all its longevity and folk charminess, bears the distinction of being the mythic period which overlaps more than any other, with the coming of Christianity to Ireland. While the accounts themselves, and the exploits of the Fianna under Fionn mac Cumhaill, take place in the centuries proceeding the mythic start of Christianity, Padraig's mission, the tradition ends with two accounts which are both some of my favourite literature, as well as quite inverse to one another.

These are Acallam na Senorach  (Or "The Tales of the Elders of Ireland") and Agallamh Oisín agus Phádraig (Or "The Dialogue of Oisin and Patrick". The former dates to the 13th century, and I would highly recommend Anne Dooley and Harry Roe's Translation. Oisn and Patrick, on the other hand can be found in Lady Gregory’s adaptation of the Fenian Cycle, Gods and Fighting Men (1904), itself derived (in large part) from Jerimiah Curtin’s “Myths and Folk-lore of Ireland” (1890). Curtain based his translations off of Agallamh Oisín agus Phádraig, which was published in Duanaire Finn, by Aodh Ó Dochartaigh, in the 17^th century.

Acallam na Senorach, is the larger of the works, and it contains a treasure trove of Fenian lore and legends. The basic premise is that Caílte mac Rónáin and Oisin, as well as a band of unnamed followers, are all that are left of the Fianna. Oisin and Caílte meet one last time, and Oisin decides he is going to stay with his family in the Sidhe. Calite and the others are then left to wander about, when they happen to stumble upon St. Patrick, who is in the process of missionizing to the whole of Ireland. Patrick inquires as to the giant, yet aged figure of Caílte, and he recites a few tales of the exploits of the Fianna. Patrick is naturally enamoured by the stories, when two angels descend and instruct Patrick to record all of the tales Caílte recites, for the betterment of Ireland. The story then has Caílte and his cohorts travelling from place to place with Patrick and his followers, while Caílte recites tales about the Fianna at every single place they inquire about. This story, among other things, is the source of the oft-quoted:

Truth in our Hearts, Strengths in our Arms, Fulfillment upon our Tongues.

"Patrick and Oisin", on the other hand is really an end piece of the Fenian lore, dealing specifically with Oisin upon his return from the Otherworld. Oisin, having become an ancient upon his touching down upon the earth, is now blind and decrepit. He is taken in by Patrick and his monks, and the story revolves around the debate which occurs between Oisin and Patrick regarding the merits of their pre-Christian and Christian beliefs. It is somewhat reminiscent of "The Madness of Suibne", in that Oisin as the Suibne figure, is the man out of time, enamoured of the wilds and the wonder of nature. Patrick is a joyless, at times cruel figure, giving Oisin only the meagerest of food and drink, and chiding him for his fondness of his heathen past. Patrick is very much the fire and brimstone preacher, condemning the Fianna to hellfire and Oisin himself will share their fate if he does not convert. There are some different versions, usually Oisin relents and converts, but sometimes he refuses and dies unbaptized.

We are presented with two very different accounts of a similar type of event, and two very different approaches to the subject (or subtext) of the religious conversion of the Irish. The later is fueled by animosity, contrast and Patrick being an all around git. The former, on the other hand, does its best to showcase the very best of the Pagan and Christian worldviews, and how they (could have been) reconciled. The nobility of the past, the heroic days of valour and adventure, the dignity of an old warrior mingled with the peace and joy of the new faith, in its magnanimity and charity to those who, while not "saved" in life, are deserving of heaven none the less.

I am by no means a fan of Christianity, as any who have a familiarity with my blog and me personally, are certainly aware. I'd not go as far as some who recognized March 17 as a day of mourning, but theologically there are some very real and problematic elements of the religion, and the world view that has developed, which I find myself at odds with. Truth be told, and it ought to be, I rather liked "Oisin and Patrick" precisely because of the animosity which permeates the narrative. It presents a side of the "argument" which has for the most part been omitted or left out, that of the pre-Christian. Even in the older manuscripts and texts, primarily the Ulster cycle, there is an underpinning of the "natural evolution" towards the new faith. All having been written long after the conversion, there none the less remains an undertone of "we know what's coming, and it has little to do with magical folks in mounds". The inevitability of the coming of Christianity, written with the gift of hindsight, precludes a lot of the value of the pre-Christian world view. Oisin and Patrick presents that rare voice of the conquered, who still clings to a way which is no longer seen as feasible or worthwhile by contemporaries. Make no mistake, Oisin is the conquered: aged, debilitated and crippled, at the complete mercy of Patrick. This is not a robust, full bodied defense of pre-Christian religion or world view; it is a man on his deathbed, lamenting for a bygone age, in the face of his own misery and the bully pulpit of Patrick. None the less, the criticisms made by Oisin are both poignant and even of value today. Who among us has been fortunate enough to never encounter Christian triumphalism? None to few, I would wager. Oisin and Patrick appeals to that part of me which seeks to stand against the hegemony, which wishes to see a broader return to the religion of my far distant ancestors in a more robust way. It appeals to the part of me which has endured for decades the notion that Christianity was and is "it" when it comes to religion, and that nothing before or since has any value.

On the other hand...

It would be foolish to ignore the centrality of the Christian religion, and in particular Catholicism in the history and culture of Ireland, both historically and today. Certainly, like many western democracies, there is a gradual shift towards secularism occurring; albeit in Ireland's case it is remarkably slow. The majority of the population of the republic is Catholic, and most of the rest are Protestant to some extent or the other. Certainly those of us who find ourselves in the Diaspora, whose ancestors left Ireland some centuries ago, have to face up to the fact that by and large, our ancestors were staunchly Christian. We really do need to go back to times immemorial to find those pre-Christian connections, and almost certainly any individual in our family tree's with a name would be Christian.

Christianity is also still the dominant religion in the world today, certainly this is not going to change in western countries any time soon, and so we find ourselves faced with the reality of demographics and being a rather tiny minority, have little recourse but to learn to live with it. Well, reality check time again, we already are living with it, have been and will continue to do so far into the future, so this will surprise exactly no one. I suppose the point of all of this is how ought we to proceed? The way of opposition and confrontation or the way of cooperation and pluralism? Do we walk with Oisin or Caílte?

In my youth, unabashedly, I would have sided with Oisin in this matter and there remains a part of me which still wants to. Being a little older, and by proxy more experienced, I think the best choice lies, however, with Caílte . Well for the most part; Caílte did after all become a Christian, and that's simply not something a GPR can do. Our textual traditions are the product of a gradient of pre- and co-Christian world views, but this does not prevent us from holding them as being central and relevant. We need to understand that we will never have a purely pre-Christian textual tradition, and do our best to sort the bits out which can in fact, be sorted.

The history, the "bad blood" between the pre-Christians and the Christians, is all but absent from our history; texts like "Oisin and Patrick" are extremely rare. By and large we simply do not have much evidence to support an antagonistic relationship between the ancient and slightly less ancient religious traditions of the Gaelic world. There is no evidence of the sort of religious conquests or mass conversions under the sword which is evident in the lands further to the north and to the south. I can understand why an Asatruar or Heathen may balk, why a practitioner of the Religio may be understandably hostile, but our own anger and frustration is a byproduct of a modern worldview which is noticeably absent in our own records. Try as some may, black armbands on March 17th and all, there simply is no basis in the evidence we have for such theatrics or outrage. This is because the process of conversion was gradual, peaceable and highly syncretic. Yes, in later hagiographical accounts the image presented of the "noble pagan" is replaced by conjurers of demons and other Christian bogey-men, but an examination of such "events" reflects far more the retooling of existing Biblical stories or of continental hagiographies made local, than disdain for actual pre-Christians. The largest victim of the coming of Christianity to Ireland, was Christianity itself; it would become quite literally, its own worst enemy. Christians have carried out far more unspeakable things to each other than they ever did to the pre-Christian Gaels.

I like to think I'm not so naive to see everything as sparkles and rainbows, but historically speaking, the Celts had a lot worse done to them by other polytheistic cultures (in fact one of the only clear examples of religious persecution from a polytheistic culture was that of the Romans towards the Celts, and in particular the Druidic functionaries) then they ever did from Christians. Yet, I've not seen any sort of the vitriol or disdain among some GRPs (and CRs) which is held for Christianity, aimed at members of the Religio.

Returning to the main thrust of this post, however, this entire piece is written primarily as an exploration of mythic ways in which figures who represent disparate world views interact with one another, and what (to some kind of extent) follows. The real world applicability is of relatively small consequence; not because the question is one that need not be explored, but because of demographics. It may have some wider applicability beyond the scope of GRP, perhaps extending as a model for CR’s or even more broadly neo-Pagan traditions stemming from the Celtic cultures. If nothing else, perhaps something to consider before slapping on a black arm band or celebrating “All Snakes Day” on March 17 as a knee jerk reaction to the imagined horrors of the conversion of the Gaels to Christianity.

 

Practically speaking, the vast majority of Christians aren’t even aware of our existence, or have some vague notion that people actually believe in those silly fairy tales they read as children. Anecdotal as it is, most of the people I encounter have such a poor grasp of their own religion, they’ve not even thought about other traditions, let alone how to interact with them. Pre-Christian perspectives are just that, pre-Christian, and as such are relegated to the past and have little to no bearing on the present. Patrick in which ever version outlives both Caílte and Oisin after all.

 

Ours is presently a rather insular community, already awash in a lake of polytheism, itself surrounded by a continent of monotheism. At the end of the day, I direct my message to the GRP’s, CR’s and Celtic influenced neo-Pagans. We decide how we want to understand and interact with the Galileans (albeit this could certainly be broadened to interfaith relationships in general), by understanding how the (mythic) “last Pagans” chose to do so. Perhaps it will largely depend on context, as so much often does. It is rather easy to abide alongside an open minded, pluralistic styled Christian, and this is reflected in the Patrick from the Acallam. The fellow who is not only willing to attentively listen, but to discuss and recognize the merits of a world view outside of their own. Of course is also helps when the other side is represented by someone who is also willing to listen, who is up to the task and capable. Caílte, while ancient, remains a staggeringly powerful figure throughout the narrative of the Acallam. It is another matter altogether to sit idly by while the fire and brimstone preacher lambastes everything one holds dear, and demeans and debases what is considered sacred. It does not help when the other is reduced to decrepitude  at the utter mercy of his host, that the host thinks nothing of the words being spoken, and only hears the last mewling of a long broken worldview.

 

I have come to understand that while the later is certainly the most vociferous, the most bombastic and the most influential, there are folks who are willing to listen. There are those who are willing to not only listen, but to learn and understand; to see the value in the worldview of another. This is really the only basis upon which we can build any sort of interfaith dialogue, and I think the best way forward.

Thoughts?

-Gorm

Comparative sacrifice: Or a better version of the Odin v Jesus meme...

I'm sure most of you (well, maybe 12 of the 16) have come across the "Odin v Jesus" meme. Generally it looks something like this:



Funny, but not wholly accurate.

It's been floating around for some time now, and while there are some obvious problems with it: It depicts Thor for one. Two, Jesus never makes a promise to bring an end to "all wicked people", and certainly not within the span of when he was supposed to have lived. Three, Odin also never states that he will bring an "end to all ice giants"; after all, fighting the Jotun was Thor's job, not Odin's. Of course, it is a meme, and I'm sure many a polytheist at least chuckled at it; I certainly did. If nothing else, it provides some means of venting the sort of pent up frustration which comes when one is immersed in a culture where Christianity is the default. By positing that there are other deities mucking about, and not only existing but actually doing things to benefit humanity, it represents, albeit wryly, an alternative to the default setting.

The meme itself has little to do with the rest of this post, but it provides a nice segway into a more thoughtful theological issue; a comparison of the value of a divine being sacrificing themselves to benefit humanity. Further, to make the comparison one which is not simply based on my predisposition to favour polytheism, I'm going to do my best to evaluate the value from within the world view espoused by the narratives, and theological underpinnings of each example of divine sacrifice.

Jesus

Method of Sacrifice: Crucifixion. Death is caused by asphyxiation, as the weight of the hanging body gradually prevents the diaphragm from functioning. Added to this, he was flogged, had a crown of thorns jammed onto his head, and stabbed by a spear.

Dedication: Jesus is sacrificed to the Christian god. In Christian mythology Jesus is understood to be both the son of the Christian god, and the earthly incarnation of the same god.

Duration: Three days. After which, Jesus resurrects and eventually ascends into heaven.

Lost: The god of the Christians gives up his only son, a perfect, sinless being.

Gained: Humanity is now able to get into a proper relationship with the Christian god, and can enter into an eternal paradise upon death.

I'll start with Jesus, in the traditional Christian narrative. Humanity is fallen; the first humans through their disobedience to the god which made them left their descendants a cursed inheritance, sin. Sin, being a slight or action which is inherently antithetical to their god's will or desire represents the corruption of an otherwise perfect thing. As such, humanity was forced out of the earthly paradise, Eden, and forced to toil, suffer and eventually die. The thing is that death is not the end of the existence of humans, as they each posses a soul. After their physical bodies die, their souls are then judged by their god, and worthy souls are allowed to enter an eternal state of paradisaical existence, heaven; whereas unworthy souls are forced to enter an eternal state of painful existence, hell. Christian theology really developed both conceptions of the afterlife in a very dualistic way, but the crux of their theology (especially as it differs from Judaism and Islam) is the necessity of Jesus. It essentially boils down to no human being worthy enough to enter into heaven, as humans are born stained with sin, and will continue to sin throughout their lives. As sin is a state of corrupted existence, and nothing which is corrupt can enter into heaven, humans are doomed to live meaningless lives and then be tortured forever. This is why Christ, and specifically his sacrifice, are necessary in Christian theology. From a broadly Catholic perspective, Christ's death redeems humanity, and allows the church to absolve humans of their sins, allowing them to become pure, and gaining them entrance into heaven. From a broadly Protestant perspective, Christ's sacrifice removes the stain of sin from humans, and by accepting him as ones personal saviour, from future sins as well. Essentially all past and future sin is removed through the sacrifice of Christ, and anyone who becomes his disciple, is guaranteed a place in heaven, and is spared the agony of hell.

Odin

Method: Odin hangs himself, by a noose, on the tree Yggdrasil, and is impaled with an ash spear.

Dedication: Odin sacrifices himself, to himself.

Duration: Nine days. Odin then resurrects.

Lost: Odin's pain and suffering for nine days.

Gained: Knowledge and wisdom, particularly in the form of Runes (or broadly literacy).

Odin's sacrifice occurs relatively early in the general chronology of the mythic narrative, and unlike the example of Christ, is by no means his "defining act". This does not, however, mean that this act is without importance or even centrality. Not being as personally familiar with the theological understandings/ interpretations of Asatru as I am with Christianity, I sought out the opinion of an acquaintance of mine who is not only an Asatruar, but one of the finest wordsmiths I have had the pleasure of knowing. This sacrifice (which is also related to his other sacrifice, that of his eye for a draught from the well of Mimir) exemplifies the role which Odin plays, and the sort of god that he is. He is, among many things the god of forbidden knowledge; in this particular case knowledge which is gained through something I have myself touched on before, Necromancy. By hanging himself, impaling himself, he is able to exist in he liminal state between life and death; through his suffering he is given knowledge otherwise unattainable. Odin, like many who have foresight, is cursed with the knowledge of things to come, but also knows that he is unable to prevent these things. Instead of seeking for hope, or salvation he seeks for knowledge and for power and that which will be necessary when the time comes to ensure not his own survival, for he knows his own doom, but that of his children and humanity. In doing so, in giving up so much, he provides humanity he means to also grow and ready themselves for their own doom. Any immortality offered by Odin, particularly to those who are claimed by his psychopomps, the Valkyrie, is temporary. The war dead are given a respite, only so that they may die again during the end of all things.

Two very different gods, two very different purposes, two very different outcomes. This gets to the heart of the matter, and is really where the idea of compararing mythologies and evaluating gods against one another, basically falls apart. It falls apart, or the value of such a comparison fails, because the purposes are so different and will only makes sense when understood through the eyes of people who understand the narratives in their own contexts, and apply them to their own lives. What it comes down to is that each story represents a set of values, and these values are very different. Judging such values from "outside", necessarily means that those values will come under scrutiny and appear to be lacking.

Ultimately, the Christian is going to see the story of Christ's sacrifice and see the love of their god, and the redemption of humanity through the terrible torture and death of the greatest man who ever lived. They would turn to the sacrifice of Odin and scoff at such a petty "prize" for all the suffering of a "god", some magic letters. What kind of god is that, anyway, who isn't all powerful?

The inverse would have the Asatruar (or I guess me too, as I do understand the value) looking upon the sacrifice of Odin as giving humanity the tools to save itself, rather than relying on some god on a stick being needlessly sacrificed to an all powerful god who could just as easily change the state of things; after all the god is supposed to be all powerful, right?

Neither is terribly helpful in actually making a reasonable comparison, because there is no agreed upon scale to measure. For measurements to occur, there needs to be a system of measurement; something which is clearly lacking. For one thing, there would have to be some agreed upon middle ground, and as far as we are on that point tends to be acknowledging that the other person has the right to believe such cockamamie stories as long as we can also believe our cockamamie stories too. Hardly fertile ground for objective comparison and discussion.

So here it is, the values held as virtuous by each audience are too widely divergent to facilitate objective evaluation. Christians have it in their world view that virtues like forgiviness, compassion, meekness and repentance are central to living a good life. Asatruars, on the other hand, have it in their world view that virtues like self sufficency, struggle, valour, and the like are what makes for a good life.

I suppose in a broader sense, one could make the argument that the Asatruar myth engenders a certain amount of agency on humanity's part, as well as a more active role within the grand scheme of things. Humans play a significant part in the events of Ragnarok, and even if these warriors are doomed to die a second time, they are still active. Compartively, humanity has very little to do with the events depicted in Christian eschatology; they show up, get judged and are cast into a lake of fire or ascend into heaven. Christ's gift of himself to his father, provides him the means to redeem humanity in the eyes of his father/himself. Salvation is won, and it is up to humans to accept or reject this gift; dire consequence for those who reject it. Odin's gift is knowledge, which again humans are free to use or not use, but there is no forced hand here, no bifurcation leading to a moral judgement or dilemma. The knowledge was won, but it is up to humans to make the best use of it they can. Of course this moves the discussion from the context of the narratives themselves, and what they mean to adherants, to a broader examination of theological principles over all.

Coming up next time: Thor v. Jesus: "My god has a hammer, yours was nailed to a cross; any questions?"




On second thought...

Easter Movie Madness! A friendly reminder of why monotheism > polytheism

I'm not sure how it is in the US, though I imagine given the demographics, it would be similar or even slightly more pronounced than it is in Canada; which ever weekend happens to contain the Easter holidays (Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and Easter Sunday) will feature television channels jam packed with "The Ten Commandments", and just about every film produced in the middle of the decade that has anything to do with Jesus. It is a fixture of the season, as sure as fake green grass, brightly coloured stuffed animals, and sickeningly sweet confections consisting of chocolate or marshmallow. The most striking thing about them is how utterly similar they are; in cinematography, in costume, in direction, in score and especially in message. Or at least one message: The god of Abraham is the best, any other deity can suck it.

Alright, so this ought to be patently obvious, this is how monotheism works after all. Our god is the best and only god, other people are idiots for worshipping anyone/thing that isn't our god. Alright, and so it makes sense also that the costumes are going to be similar, after all they all take place around the same time... Except for "Ten Commandments", which is supposed to be taking place during the events depicted in Exodus. So they substitute golden helmets for ones with ridiculous plumes, but other than any given actor in TC could walk by a shot in, say "Jesus of Nazareth" or "Barabbas", and you'd never know they were from a time period several thousand years prior. This may seem a little nit picky, but it conveys a sort of unconscious understanding of the continuum which Christians believe exists between Exodus and their own Gospels. A separate issue in and of itself, so lets just focus on the other glaring similarity (and purpose) I mentioned earlier.

So, and again fairly obviously, these films are supposed to provide entertaining reenactments of various Gospel (or OT) narratives. As such they are going to have the bias inherent in the world view of the source material, and of course this would necessitate that the religious or theological perspective come along with it. These stories are familiar, these stories are known, these stories can probably be recited by a not insignificant percentage of the population. However, these films lack the full breadth of someone to both interpret and understand them (i.e. a religious officiant) for the audience, and so must be able to convey their message in as obvious and self evident manner as possible. Also they need to be entertaining, have self contained narratives and be able to fit into an allotted time slot. What this translates to is that they haven't got the entirety of the NT to flesh out perspectives on things, and so tend to be really "on the nose" with portrayals of certain things: Roman religion, Roman society, Roman culture, Romans, Christians, etc.

Which brings me to my first point that is irritating coming from a polytheistic perspective: Whenever a Christian character begins to speak about "their Lord" to non-Christians, everyone becomes utterly transfixed by their words and by their desecration of all other deities. There is usually some sort of half-hearted defense made, which generally amounts to, "what makes your god so great?", which is followed by the Christian answering the question, dashing to pieces said defense. When this is interrupted, it is usually by some Roman official of power/influence who, not offering a theological argument, mentions that Christianity is outlawed and so the Christian has to be punished, usually by capital punishment. The pertinent points which come across in these scenes, and the overall films are as follows:

1. Pagans were monsters.
2. Pagans had no theology.
3. Pagan deities do not exist.
4. Roman religion can be explained as little more than "Worship of the Emperor".

Pagans were  monsters

In these films there are generally four types of Pagan: the master, the plebeian, the slave, and the convert.

The master is fairly self explanatory, they are the characters who have some degree of control over the Christian characters, as well as the plebes and converts. They are the face of the "Roman machine", the one mentioned above who will end the witnessing of the Christian, not through theological points but by the use of their power, generally through force. If they are shown to be religious at all, it is only for personal gain or politics; often secretly shunning the superstitions of the plebeians. As such they are power hungry, amoral and oppressive.

The plebeian is your average Roman citizen whose only interaction, or point in the film, is to stand in a crowd and encourage violence. That's it. If these films were all we had to represent our knowledge of Roman culture, we would think that all Roman citizens did was watch gladiatorial combats and give the "thumbs down" for every single contestant who lost a duel. Where the master will use violence to gain power or maintain order, the plebeian loves violence for entertainments sake. Blood thirsty and ignorant masses.

The slave is any character who is not a master or plebeian, nor Christian (nor Jewish), who will not be converting to Christianity by the end of the picture. They are usually the only voice trying to raise a defence of Paganism, and the same who are utterly silenced the moment the Christian character speaks. Slaves, but on the "wrong side".

The convert is a slave (and very rarely a plebeian) who was a Pagan, but will convert to Christianity at some point. Usually any Pagan character who has any sense of morality, or who may try to help the Christian, will inevitably convert, recognizing the inherent emptiness of the Pagan position. Slaves who see the light.

To synthesize these rough categories into understanding the way the Roman world is portrayed, Pagans were terrible, violent, oppressive and superstitious. Any "good" Pagan will ultimately convert to Christianity, thereby robbing Paganism of any redeeming figures.

Pagans had no theology

At no point, in any film, is Roman religion ever actually discussed (other than point 4). No attempts are made to explain, or explore the deep theology and mythology which underpinned Roman religion. Instead we are treated to a glancing mention of the civic nature of Roman religion, that it was little more than an apparatus of the state to ensure control of the ignorant masses, and the the idea of freedom of religion was unheard of. This theological vacuum is, of course, why everyone on screen (regardless of role) is at least temporarily transfixed when a Christian talks about his deity. Paganism was hollow and so anyone within ear shot will have to listen to the wisdom and truth spoken... until Christian is maimed/murdered.

Pagan deities do not exist

Not that any of the perspectives here come as a surprise, but this is necessarily self evident in the world view being put forward. Monotheism simply does not allow for the possibility of the existence of any deity except the one the adherents worship. Within the films we are almost certainly guaranteed at least one example of some character, usually the master, slave or convert, seeking the aid of a Pagan deity (because again, in a monotheistic context, and Paganisms theological vacuum, the only sort of prayer which exists is petitionary). This is usually in the context of either trying to show up the Christian (whose prayers are always answered) or saving themselves; in every event, and at every attempt, failure is the only result. Of course it is, because those other gods don't exist.

Roman Religion = Emperor is God

What is important here is noting that the idea of the civic virtue of making an offering to the genuis of the emperor is not what is being portrayed. What is portrayed is that the Emperors (who ever they may be) are portrayed as believing themselves to be gods, or are seen by the masters, plebeians and slaves as being a god. It is an allegorical tool, emphasizing the difference between the true, disembodied, Christian god and the crass, all too human, Emperor. Again, not terribly surprising considering how much the symbolic Rome is utilized by the authors of the Gospels, Acts, Epistles and Revelation as being the exemplar of everything which is wrong with "this world" and so in these films, the Emperor becomes the living embodiment of everything which is wrong with Rome, and by proxy Pagans.

That is pretty much my summary of how Pagans are portrayed in such films. I'm not going to be providing a step by step explanation of why every one of the characteristics is either completely wrong, or at the very least an egregious distortion of actual history. If you're interested in rebuttals and the like, and aren't already aware of them, just do a quick goolge search for "roman religion". Or you know watch Gladiator (not a great film, but decent enough in its snippets of ritual, and certainly its ability to portray Pagans as moral) or Agora (although the problem with this is the tit for tat portrayal, which needed to be grossly exagerated to provide "balance").

-Gorm.

Religion and Reason

There exists a climate these days, nothing new mind you, in which people will often call into question the religious beliefs of another.I have no problem with critically exploring religious beliefs, but more often than not the kind of attitude I am speaking about is based on little more than a knee jerk reaction. Often this reaction is built upon a very shallow understanding of some aspect of that religion. If this sounds familiar, wait until I've finished the rest of my intro; because this is not an attitude which is found only among the "usual suspects." No in this case those who often criticize the fundamentalist's intolerance, are found in their company when confronted with a religion that is too "out there". Religious tolerance it seems is a fickle thing, even among those who claim to defend it.

My favourite "whipping boy" in this case is Scientology. You will notice that I did not use a $ sign to replace the S, but it happens more often than not. I am, of course, not a Scientologist; nor do I ascribe to any of their beliefs even in the slightest. I am also critical of the structure of their religious organization, the Church of Scientology. Though unknown to most people, there are many Scientologists who are not members of the Church; so called "Free Zone" Scientologists. I can accept, and in fact share, most of the criticisms of the CoS, however I may differ from most in not finding anything particularly odd about their beliefs.

I mean really think about it, how odd are their beliefs compared to any number of world religions? Judaism; why they pray to an invisible sky man, who revealed his universal wisdom by turning into a burning bush, seen by one guy. Christianity; well they worship the same sky man, but also his zombie son; many of them do this through ritualistic cannibalism. Islam; same sky man, but this time revealed to a guy in a cave who ended up having a lot of wives. Hinduism; a million gods who are all the same god, but then you're not even you, but we. Buddhism: try to emulate a Indian prince who decided poverty was awesome, and owning things is the root of all evil; they seek enlightenment by thinking about weird things.

Part of my point is that anything can be made to sound ridiculous or terrible if you word it the right way, and focus on some detail, taken out of context. Many people would dismiss my points as shallow, erroneous and mischaracterizations of their religious traditions, and they would be right because they are. However there remains a kernel of truth in each statement, skewed as they may be. So people are also willing to ignore, or explain away the odd things which may exist in their traditions, but are not willing to extend that to others, especially minority religions.

Aside from this is a notion of efficacy, or reasonableness. I will provide a short comparison, between one of the oldest forms of religion, animism, and the default in the West, Christianity. From the Christian perspective, worshiping rocks, trees, rivers and mountains is the height of primitiveness; ignorant, superstitious and backwards. Why worship some dirt and pebbles, when you can pray to the supreme creator of the universe, and his son who died to give you the gift of immortality in the life to come? Well from an objective standpoint, it is the Christian, and not the animist, who hasn't got a leg to stand on. While one can not prove that rocks, trees, rivers and mountains have spirits, it can be proven that they exist. The Christian god on the other hand can not.

The practical effects of the objects of worship for the animist are tangible and far more influential than those of the Christian. A tree for example, can provide shelter from the elements, protection from predators, fuel for a fire, sticks to make tools, fruit to sustain you. The Christian god can not provide shelter, protection, fuel, tools or food, except in abstract or symbolic ways. Is it not eminently more sensible, since there are objective material benefits, to give praise and thanks to the objects which allow you to survive, rather than some disembodied sky man? Why then is animism held to be primitive or superstitious, when it is so much more practical than many so called modern religions? Little more than special pleading, or appeal to authority.

Gorm.