Today I want to write about the gods. Today I want to express the things which are difficult to articulate: the awe and the grandeur, the "wooshy-ness" (to use a phrase coined by Dreyfus and Kelly), the totality of the ineffable reality that is the dé ochus andé. I want to scream from the bottom of my being, to the apex of the tallest hilltop. I want to do all of this, but I withdraw. I repress. I remain at a loss for words.
For someone who is so accustomed to scholarship and discourse, who has a carefully sculpted demeanor of being calm and measured, of having an outwardly limited range of expression; the notion is not paralyzing, but only just.
How can I even begin to explain just how good the gods are? Just how magnificent the shining ones appear? How much unabashed joy I experience simply by reading of their exploits? How complete and full my life is because they are a part of it? Why I look forward to every new moon, if only to share with others who may just feel the same way, if at a distance?
It is why I leap at every and any chance I get to have a conversation with whoever will listen, about the topic of religion, or myth, or even culture. It is why I type my meandering thoughts out, for others to see. It is why I am probably the only person at my place of buisness who, aside from my employer, understands that our job has a component of the sacred in it. It is why my book shelves groan under the weight of books few would find interesting, but are none the less a source of pride and fascinaion.
All this and more, so much more I wish to express; but here I type, befuddled.
If I know anything, I know the gods abide.
And that is enough.
-Gorm
P.S. So I have a review of "Brave" in the works, look for it soon.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
La Lunasa
Lughnasadh, the summer ends, the harvest begins. We light the fires, bring in the first fruits, and gather to celebrate with games and sport.
What some may not know, is the origins of the festival. While the day is named after Lugh, of the long hand; Lugh, the master of all arts; Lugh, sword shouter, it is not in actuality his day. The reason it is so named is because he began the first games, in honour of she who is the true reason for the season, Lugh's foster mother, Tailtiu. So Lughnasadh, a day punctuated by sport and merriment, the last ceilidh before the somber approach of Samhain, and winter, began its life only after the death of another. For Lugh began the first games in honour of Tailtiu, as funeral games.
The Irish have always been a bit off when it comes to things like how folks ought to behave at funerals, and their gods are no exception. Funeral games were a significant aspect of the funeral process in ancient times, and survived through the ages as parlour games, pranks, tricks and other merriment's which were commonplace during wakes of the 18th and 19th centuries. The funeral games of Tailtiu, however, maintained such a prominent place that an annual festival became common practice. But why Tailtiu? Why is this goddess who few remember, who was not even a member of the Tuatha De Danann, but rather a queen of the Fir Bolg, honoured so?
The idea of sacrifice, that things are made sacred through loss or the price paid, is of course an ancient concept. Among many of our ancestral cultures, tales are told of gods and goddesses both, who gave up much, even their very lives, to make better the world they found themselves in. The tales speak of such sacrifices, and more often than not it is the goddesses who offer themselves up, that their children may reap their hard won rewards. Tailtiu poured out her sweat, blood and ultimately life, clearing the great plains of Ireland, giving us the ability to farm and sustain ourselves through agriculture. Her exhaustion overwhelmed her, and she fell. A mound was raised, the proper rites performed, and funeral games were held. Eventually a settlement was established; Telltown it was named, after the eponymous goddess upon whose bones the town was built.
Tailtiu was fortunate to have such a noble and powerful foster son, and because of him her name and her games continue to this day. More important than that, though, through her sacrifice we are made better, and life is made just a little easier. So on this day, when we dance and sing around the fires, while the tables groan under the weight of the first harvest, while we boast and cavort, and not yet contemplate the winter, we offer our first fruits to Tailtiu, to Lugh, to the de ochus ande all. That everything has a price, and we are fortunate indeed when someone else is willing to pay it for us.
What some may not know, is the origins of the festival. While the day is named after Lugh, of the long hand; Lugh, the master of all arts; Lugh, sword shouter, it is not in actuality his day. The reason it is so named is because he began the first games, in honour of she who is the true reason for the season, Lugh's foster mother, Tailtiu. So Lughnasadh, a day punctuated by sport and merriment, the last ceilidh before the somber approach of Samhain, and winter, began its life only after the death of another. For Lugh began the first games in honour of Tailtiu, as funeral games.
The Irish have always been a bit off when it comes to things like how folks ought to behave at funerals, and their gods are no exception. Funeral games were a significant aspect of the funeral process in ancient times, and survived through the ages as parlour games, pranks, tricks and other merriment's which were commonplace during wakes of the 18th and 19th centuries. The funeral games of Tailtiu, however, maintained such a prominent place that an annual festival became common practice. But why Tailtiu? Why is this goddess who few remember, who was not even a member of the Tuatha De Danann, but rather a queen of the Fir Bolg, honoured so?
The idea of sacrifice, that things are made sacred through loss or the price paid, is of course an ancient concept. Among many of our ancestral cultures, tales are told of gods and goddesses both, who gave up much, even their very lives, to make better the world they found themselves in. The tales speak of such sacrifices, and more often than not it is the goddesses who offer themselves up, that their children may reap their hard won rewards. Tailtiu poured out her sweat, blood and ultimately life, clearing the great plains of Ireland, giving us the ability to farm and sustain ourselves through agriculture. Her exhaustion overwhelmed her, and she fell. A mound was raised, the proper rites performed, and funeral games were held. Eventually a settlement was established; Telltown it was named, after the eponymous goddess upon whose bones the town was built.
Tailtiu was fortunate to have such a noble and powerful foster son, and because of him her name and her games continue to this day. More important than that, though, through her sacrifice we are made better, and life is made just a little easier. So on this day, when we dance and sing around the fires, while the tables groan under the weight of the first harvest, while we boast and cavort, and not yet contemplate the winter, we offer our first fruits to Tailtiu, to Lugh, to the de ochus ande all. That everything has a price, and we are fortunate indeed when someone else is willing to pay it for us.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
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:
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...
| Funny, but not wholly accurate. |
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...
Thursday, April 12, 2012
"Necromancy" in the Irish Tradition
No, this is not going to be something to do with zombies, liches, weights, mad monks or dread eldritch horrors. This is going to be a concise examination of the ways in which the living can obtain knowledge from the dead, particularly in the Irish literary tradition. I use the term necromancy because it is probably the simplest and most widely known term to describe this particular activity. Derived from the ancient Greek necros, referring to a dead body, and manteia, referring to prophecy or divination, is a kind of magic or rite which when performed allows some means of divination to be derived from communication with the dead. Almost always associated with evil or witchcraft, it has necessarily been a magic of ill repute. This is not, however, at all the case when it comes to necromancy in the Irish tradition. While some of the rites or means of gaining knowledge or portents from the dead are achieved in similar ways (sleeping on graves, contact with a deceased human body) and the results are often the same (conversations with spirits or corpses themselves), there is a distinct lack of evil or darkness attached with it. For a culture which has wide ranging proscriptions in manners of taboo, especially through literary devices like geasa, and also has a revulsion for evil magic; it would appear that necromancy, while considered the "blackest of black arts" just about everywhere else, enjoys a rather lofty reputation, as will be explored in the first example below.
There is a wonderful article I stumbled upon some time ago, written by Grigory Bondarenko, called "Oral Past and Written Present in 'The Finding of the Tain". It is an absolutely fascinating piece which explores the way in which the mythic, and some later historic texts, explain the transmission of tales from orations to written accounts. If you can get your hands on a copy of it, it is definitely worth having a read. What piqued my interest however, was not the actual topic of the article, but one of the accounts of how the "transmission of the Tain" occurred.
According to one of the so called "pre-tales" of the Tain Bo Cuailnge, Do Fhallsigud Tana Bo Cuailnge (How the Tain Bo Cuailnge was found again), a fili named Muirgen mac Senchan is said to have found the grave of Fergus Mac Roich and chanted an invocation to him:
It is tales like this, and particularly other examples of the dead coming and speaking to the living, which make me personally question the assertions some make in regards to reincarnation. Certainly it would be difficult to have a hero, or the soul of that hero, coming to recite such tales, if they were supposed to have moved onto another incarnation. There are other examples, of course which offer other perspectives, but I think this is a good example of the idea of the soul/spirit of a hero surviving after death. As such it is not unreasonable to posit that that soul/spirit must have dwelt somewhere to be summoned from, and there are examples in the lore of such places, Tech Duinn chief among them. Of course, the other option which could be possible is that the soul/spirit of the dead reside within their grave, and certainly this tale makes this seem as plausible as other options. What is more, the custom of sleeping or fasting upon a grave to gain knowledge is not contained to this tale alone, and will often be remarked upon as one of the ways the filid received inspiration. Further, the practice or notion of communicating with the dead must have had enjoyed a great deal of prestige because in the Christianized texts (both the extant versions of the Tain, as well as the Triads), there is no hint of diabolism or demonic influences or dangers.
There are other tales which continue the idea of speaking to the dead, albeit in a little more overt format. Echtra Nerai or The Adventure of Nera, is yet again a tale which is related to the Ulster cycle. The premise is that Nera, a retainer of Ailill and Medb, is attending a feast on Samhain at Cruachan. Ailill offers a prise to any man with the courage to brave the ominous night, and tie a withe (a willow twig) around the leg of one of the two corpses who hang outside. Nera offers to do so, but fails after the third attempt. Seemingly annoyed, one of the corpses suggests he try using a peg, and succeeds. The corpse, however, informs Nera that he is thirsty, and Nera removes the corpse from the gallows and carries him around a rather long time, until they find water. Eventually they do find water, in a wash pail, and the corpse drinks all but the last sip, which he sprinkles on the sleeping family inside, all of whom are killed by this action. The practical point of this is to explain why one ought not to leave water in a wash pail over night. Nera returns the man to his noose, and returns to Cruachan to find all the inhabitants slain, and a trail of seeming sidhe folk making their way into a nearby cave. He decides to follow after them, but is found out because a living man weighs more than a dead one. It ought to be mentioned here, Mackillop interprets this insinuating that the denizens of the sidhe are not the Aes Sidhe, but rather, are dead men and women. Not an unreasonable assertion, especially considering that it is Samhain, and traditionally the day when the separation between this world and the otherworld is thinnest; or in this case non-existent.
Of course, within the narrative Nera's wife (the custom of the otherworld/sidhe mound, seemingly is providing heroes wives) tells him that the sidhe folk placed an enchantment upon Cruachan to make it appear destroyed, but that it will be destroyed if he does not return the following Samhain to destroy the Sidhe mound. Again there really is a blurry line between the sidhe folk as Aes sidhe, and as the dead. Nera, in turn, leaves the Sidhe (as well as his wife and child) with a promise of taking them, his cattle, and three splendid objects when he returns the following Samhain. He also takes with him, "three fruits of summer" to prove he had been to the Sidhe mound, and upon returning to Cruachan, finds almost no time has passed since he first ventured out. Ailill welcomes him back, hears his tale, (gives him his reward, a sword) and agrees to sack the Sidhe the following year. As an interesting aside, there is also a short narration regarding an alternate account of the cause of the events of the Tain. Ultimately, the Connacht men sack the Sidhe the following Samhain, preventing their own destruction, and Nera ends up remaining in the Sidhe with his wife, son, and cattle, "until doomsday".
So aside from being an interesting tale in and of itself, we once again observe necromancy in action. There is an obvious difference than in the earlier example, Nera talks with an actual corpse, the corpse talks back, makes demands and even performs actions. The time the event takes place is also significant, and considering the lore regarding Samhain and the Sidhe, makes a great deal of sense. What is similar between both stories is that those who communicate with the dead gain special knowledge, which will among other things, help the individual in their given functions. In the former, a filid is given what amounts to perhaps the most important epic in all of Irish story telling; certainly something of great worth to the esteem of a poet. In the later, a retainer is given foreknowledge of how to protect his lord and kinsmen, and is also rewarded with prestige goods both for himself and his kin.
What then can we do with such information? Ought our modern filid's run out to their local cemeteries and start sleeping on the graves of interesting people, in order to learn new tales to expand their repertoires? Should soldiers make a habit of carrying around corpses, in the hope that they can predict and prevent ambush? Well not exactly. Again it comes back to what these stories tell us about the perspectives of the people who wrote about them, and how this reflects on their culture. A few things become clear in these narrations which can be observed in the wider body of tales as well:
The dead are sacred, but so to are their bodies. This is an important thing to realize, because it is at odds with a lot of the contemporary polytheistic cultures, especially the Hellenes and Romans. The Greeks viewed the dead human body as corrupt, as sources of pollution, at least from a theological perspective. Cleansing rites were commonly performed in areas where the death occurred, for relations of the deceased, albeit tailored to the individual, and heroes, kings, etc. generated very little of this pollution (Retief, Cilliers, Greece.) Similarly there were legal proscriptions in Rome which revolved around purification of the pollution which accompanied contact with a dead human body, or things associated with them (such as offerings), (Retief, Cilliers, Rome).
When one looks at the treatment of the dead in Irish literature, and to some degree in later folk custom, the contrast is stark. There may be some bias here, as those whose deaths are most remarked upon are heroes or important characters, and there is a possibility of their status making them special cases; this is, however, something which can be remarked upon to include any such inferences derived from the heroic literature. I do not see any sort of demarcation between the hero and the peasant to attest to such a distinction, and so find it reasonable to draw a wider conclusion from the source material. The touching, hugging, kissing and even drinking of blood (there is a version of the death of Cuchulain where Emer actually drinks some of Cu's blood) of the dead human body is quite telling of a certain level of comfort about it. The lack of any sort of purification rites or ceremonies following a death also reveals that the idea of the dead being spiritually polluting is not something which can be attested to in Irish tradition.
There was, however, also a lack of elaborate burial or funerary rites, at least if the depictions of the tales is to be taken at face value. Typically the dead were left where they fell, with a mound being raised over them and only occasionally were they moved to another location for burial, for example in the case of Cuchulain. The dindsenchas are rife with all manner of these kinds of tales, and of the mounds, hills, stones, rivers, and other natural features being sourced to the resting place of a dead figure from myths and history. Funeral games were often celebrated to commemorate particularly significant deaths; perhaps the most famous were those initiated by Lugh in memory of his foster mother Tailtu, providing the mythic origin of the holiday of La Lunasa/ Lughnasad.
Later folk traditions elaborated, altered and in some cases likely distorted pre-Christian perspectives. While there was still a certain level of comfort being around the deceased, and coming into contact with them, an effort is made to ensure that the ghost of the deceased does not find its way back to ones home; the reasoning behind the practice of taking the longest possible processional route to the cemetery (Evans). Likewise the destruction of the bed on which the deceased died, or was lain out, also became fairly common practice, as did taking snuff or salt in the pocket as a warding agent (Evans). Other traditions, and paradoxically even in more recent folk traditions, would see a great deal of effort put forth to allow the dead to return home, if for a short while, during liminal periods, especially Samhain. Turnip lanterns would be lit, food left out and even a place at the table set for the departed to partake in. Most commentators see in these later customs shades of ancestor worship, and so not surprisingly the idea of the dead existing in a sacred state being carried forward, unintentionally though it may be.
I think it is reasonable to conclude that because there was a noticible lack of belief associated with the dead, both physically and spiritually, causing any sort of pollution that the idea of necromancy not being associated with evil makes a great deal of sense. Perhaps it attests to the centrality of the reverence of ancestors, perhaps it is a reflex of broader Celtic moores concerning a level of comfort (and prestige) with human remains (especially the head). There are examples of similar attitudes in Welsh literature; the epilogue of the second branch of the Mabinogion has the surviving inhabitants of Wales cart around Bran's head, which continues to recount stories and provide a degree of protection even after it is buried. What is more, the idea of the ancestors being privileged in being "out of time", as those who are depicted inhabiting in the otherworld often are, which also allowed them access to secrets not available to those living temporally, appears to offer some logic concerning why seeking out the advice of the dead would be a worthwhile endeavour.
And there you have it. There are other examples and sources which come to mind, and I think it likely that in the future I may explore this idea in greater depth, but for now I think I've provided a decent summary of necromancy in the Irish tradition.
-Gorm
Sources
Primary
Branwen Daughter of Llyr.,Trans., Gantz, Jeffrey. The Mabinogion. (1976), pp. 66-82.
Echtra Nerai (The Adventures of Nera) (1889), ed. Meyer, Kuno.
Revue celtique 10 (1889), pp. 212-228. PDF
How the Tain Bo Cuailnge was found again.,Trans. Kinsella, Thomas. The Tain. (2002), pp. 1-2.
Tailtu, (2005), Trans., Gwynn, Edward. The Metrical Dindshenchas, Vol 4. Poem 33. LINK
Three Wonders concerning the Tain Bo Cualinge., Trans., Meyer, Kuno., The Triads of Ireland., (2007), Triad 62. LINK
Secondary
Bondarenko, G., (2009), Oral past and written present in ‘The Finding of the Táin’. Ulidia 2, 2 . pp. 18-24. PDF
Evans, E.E., (2000), Irish Folk Ways. pp. 292-293.
Mackillop, J., (1998), Echtra Nerai: Dictionary of Celtic Mythology. pp. 149-150.
Retief, F.P., Cilliers, L., (2006), Burial customs and the pollution of death in ancient Rome, procedures and paradoxes. Acta Theologica, Vol. 26. No 2., pp. 128-146. PDF
There is a wonderful article I stumbled upon some time ago, written by Grigory Bondarenko, called "Oral Past and Written Present in 'The Finding of the Tain". It is an absolutely fascinating piece which explores the way in which the mythic, and some later historic texts, explain the transmission of tales from orations to written accounts. If you can get your hands on a copy of it, it is definitely worth having a read. What piqued my interest however, was not the actual topic of the article, but one of the accounts of how the "transmission of the Tain" occurred.
According to one of the so called "pre-tales" of the Tain Bo Cuailnge, Do Fhallsigud Tana Bo Cuailnge (How the Tain Bo Cuailnge was found again), a fili named Muirgen mac Senchan is said to have found the grave of Fergus Mac Roich and chanted an invocation to him:
'If this your royal rockA mist arises and Fergus appears to Muirgen, and proceeds to recite to him the entirety of the Tain. With this the Tain is now recovered in its entirety and (presumably) preserved for posterity. There are other versions of the tale, one involving Muirgen's father Senchan "fasting against" the Christian descendants of Fergus. Yet another which involves two filid setting out for mainland Europe who regain the Tain by trading it for the Cuilmen (Bondarenko). While all three do have their own narratives, Bondarenko does point out that listed among the "Triads of Ireland" is the following:
were your own self mac Roich
halted here with sages
searching for a roof
Cuailnge we'd recover
plain and perfect Fergus'
Three wonders concerning 'the Cattle-raid of Culange: that the cuilmen came to Ireland in its stead; the dead relating it to the living,viz. Fergus mac Roig reciting it to Ninnine the poet in the time of Cormac mac Faelain; one year's protection to him to whom it is recited.It is the second wonder, however, which bears examination; while it is slightly different than the version listed in the fore-tales, Ninnine is the filid in stead of Muirgen, the mode of transmission remains the same. Fergus Mac Roigh is summoned, being deceased some countless generations ago, and recites the Tain in its entirety to the filids. Of all the manner of transmission of tales, certainly being recited by the dead deserves to be recounted as a wonder. Aside from being an interesting tale, in and of itself, we can also observe (at least one perspective anyway) on the nature of the state of the dead.
It is tales like this, and particularly other examples of the dead coming and speaking to the living, which make me personally question the assertions some make in regards to reincarnation. Certainly it would be difficult to have a hero, or the soul of that hero, coming to recite such tales, if they were supposed to have moved onto another incarnation. There are other examples, of course which offer other perspectives, but I think this is a good example of the idea of the soul/spirit of a hero surviving after death. As such it is not unreasonable to posit that that soul/spirit must have dwelt somewhere to be summoned from, and there are examples in the lore of such places, Tech Duinn chief among them. Of course, the other option which could be possible is that the soul/spirit of the dead reside within their grave, and certainly this tale makes this seem as plausible as other options. What is more, the custom of sleeping or fasting upon a grave to gain knowledge is not contained to this tale alone, and will often be remarked upon as one of the ways the filid received inspiration. Further, the practice or notion of communicating with the dead must have had enjoyed a great deal of prestige because in the Christianized texts (both the extant versions of the Tain, as well as the Triads), there is no hint of diabolism or demonic influences or dangers.
There are other tales which continue the idea of speaking to the dead, albeit in a little more overt format. Echtra Nerai or The Adventure of Nera, is yet again a tale which is related to the Ulster cycle. The premise is that Nera, a retainer of Ailill and Medb, is attending a feast on Samhain at Cruachan. Ailill offers a prise to any man with the courage to brave the ominous night, and tie a withe (a willow twig) around the leg of one of the two corpses who hang outside. Nera offers to do so, but fails after the third attempt. Seemingly annoyed, one of the corpses suggests he try using a peg, and succeeds. The corpse, however, informs Nera that he is thirsty, and Nera removes the corpse from the gallows and carries him around a rather long time, until they find water. Eventually they do find water, in a wash pail, and the corpse drinks all but the last sip, which he sprinkles on the sleeping family inside, all of whom are killed by this action. The practical point of this is to explain why one ought not to leave water in a wash pail over night. Nera returns the man to his noose, and returns to Cruachan to find all the inhabitants slain, and a trail of seeming sidhe folk making their way into a nearby cave. He decides to follow after them, but is found out because a living man weighs more than a dead one. It ought to be mentioned here, Mackillop interprets this insinuating that the denizens of the sidhe are not the Aes Sidhe, but rather, are dead men and women. Not an unreasonable assertion, especially considering that it is Samhain, and traditionally the day when the separation between this world and the otherworld is thinnest; or in this case non-existent.
Of course, within the narrative Nera's wife (the custom of the otherworld/sidhe mound, seemingly is providing heroes wives) tells him that the sidhe folk placed an enchantment upon Cruachan to make it appear destroyed, but that it will be destroyed if he does not return the following Samhain to destroy the Sidhe mound. Again there really is a blurry line between the sidhe folk as Aes sidhe, and as the dead. Nera, in turn, leaves the Sidhe (as well as his wife and child) with a promise of taking them, his cattle, and three splendid objects when he returns the following Samhain. He also takes with him, "three fruits of summer" to prove he had been to the Sidhe mound, and upon returning to Cruachan, finds almost no time has passed since he first ventured out. Ailill welcomes him back, hears his tale, (gives him his reward, a sword) and agrees to sack the Sidhe the following year. As an interesting aside, there is also a short narration regarding an alternate account of the cause of the events of the Tain. Ultimately, the Connacht men sack the Sidhe the following Samhain, preventing their own destruction, and Nera ends up remaining in the Sidhe with his wife, son, and cattle, "until doomsday".
So aside from being an interesting tale in and of itself, we once again observe necromancy in action. There is an obvious difference than in the earlier example, Nera talks with an actual corpse, the corpse talks back, makes demands and even performs actions. The time the event takes place is also significant, and considering the lore regarding Samhain and the Sidhe, makes a great deal of sense. What is similar between both stories is that those who communicate with the dead gain special knowledge, which will among other things, help the individual in their given functions. In the former, a filid is given what amounts to perhaps the most important epic in all of Irish story telling; certainly something of great worth to the esteem of a poet. In the later, a retainer is given foreknowledge of how to protect his lord and kinsmen, and is also rewarded with prestige goods both for himself and his kin.
What then can we do with such information? Ought our modern filid's run out to their local cemeteries and start sleeping on the graves of interesting people, in order to learn new tales to expand their repertoires? Should soldiers make a habit of carrying around corpses, in the hope that they can predict and prevent ambush? Well not exactly. Again it comes back to what these stories tell us about the perspectives of the people who wrote about them, and how this reflects on their culture. A few things become clear in these narrations which can be observed in the wider body of tales as well:
The dead are sacred, but so to are their bodies. This is an important thing to realize, because it is at odds with a lot of the contemporary polytheistic cultures, especially the Hellenes and Romans. The Greeks viewed the dead human body as corrupt, as sources of pollution, at least from a theological perspective. Cleansing rites were commonly performed in areas where the death occurred, for relations of the deceased, albeit tailored to the individual, and heroes, kings, etc. generated very little of this pollution (Retief, Cilliers, Greece.) Similarly there were legal proscriptions in Rome which revolved around purification of the pollution which accompanied contact with a dead human body, or things associated with them (such as offerings), (Retief, Cilliers, Rome).
When one looks at the treatment of the dead in Irish literature, and to some degree in later folk custom, the contrast is stark. There may be some bias here, as those whose deaths are most remarked upon are heroes or important characters, and there is a possibility of their status making them special cases; this is, however, something which can be remarked upon to include any such inferences derived from the heroic literature. I do not see any sort of demarcation between the hero and the peasant to attest to such a distinction, and so find it reasonable to draw a wider conclusion from the source material. The touching, hugging, kissing and even drinking of blood (there is a version of the death of Cuchulain where Emer actually drinks some of Cu's blood) of the dead human body is quite telling of a certain level of comfort about it. The lack of any sort of purification rites or ceremonies following a death also reveals that the idea of the dead being spiritually polluting is not something which can be attested to in Irish tradition.
There was, however, also a lack of elaborate burial or funerary rites, at least if the depictions of the tales is to be taken at face value. Typically the dead were left where they fell, with a mound being raised over them and only occasionally were they moved to another location for burial, for example in the case of Cuchulain. The dindsenchas are rife with all manner of these kinds of tales, and of the mounds, hills, stones, rivers, and other natural features being sourced to the resting place of a dead figure from myths and history. Funeral games were often celebrated to commemorate particularly significant deaths; perhaps the most famous were those initiated by Lugh in memory of his foster mother Tailtu, providing the mythic origin of the holiday of La Lunasa/ Lughnasad.
Later folk traditions elaborated, altered and in some cases likely distorted pre-Christian perspectives. While there was still a certain level of comfort being around the deceased, and coming into contact with them, an effort is made to ensure that the ghost of the deceased does not find its way back to ones home; the reasoning behind the practice of taking the longest possible processional route to the cemetery (Evans). Likewise the destruction of the bed on which the deceased died, or was lain out, also became fairly common practice, as did taking snuff or salt in the pocket as a warding agent (Evans). Other traditions, and paradoxically even in more recent folk traditions, would see a great deal of effort put forth to allow the dead to return home, if for a short while, during liminal periods, especially Samhain. Turnip lanterns would be lit, food left out and even a place at the table set for the departed to partake in. Most commentators see in these later customs shades of ancestor worship, and so not surprisingly the idea of the dead existing in a sacred state being carried forward, unintentionally though it may be.
I think it is reasonable to conclude that because there was a noticible lack of belief associated with the dead, both physically and spiritually, causing any sort of pollution that the idea of necromancy not being associated with evil makes a great deal of sense. Perhaps it attests to the centrality of the reverence of ancestors, perhaps it is a reflex of broader Celtic moores concerning a level of comfort (and prestige) with human remains (especially the head). There are examples of similar attitudes in Welsh literature; the epilogue of the second branch of the Mabinogion has the surviving inhabitants of Wales cart around Bran's head, which continues to recount stories and provide a degree of protection even after it is buried. What is more, the idea of the ancestors being privileged in being "out of time", as those who are depicted inhabiting in the otherworld often are, which also allowed them access to secrets not available to those living temporally, appears to offer some logic concerning why seeking out the advice of the dead would be a worthwhile endeavour.
And there you have it. There are other examples and sources which come to mind, and I think it likely that in the future I may explore this idea in greater depth, but for now I think I've provided a decent summary of necromancy in the Irish tradition.
-Gorm
Sources
Primary
Branwen Daughter of Llyr.,Trans., Gantz, Jeffrey. The Mabinogion. (1976), pp. 66-82.
Echtra Nerai (The Adventures of Nera) (1889), ed. Meyer, Kuno.
Revue celtique 10 (1889), pp. 212-228. PDF
How the Tain Bo Cuailnge was found again.,Trans. Kinsella, Thomas. The Tain. (2002), pp. 1-2.
Tailtu, (2005), Trans., Gwynn, Edward. The Metrical Dindshenchas, Vol 4. Poem 33. LINK
Three Wonders concerning the Tain Bo Cualinge., Trans., Meyer, Kuno., The Triads of Ireland., (2007), Triad 62. LINK
Secondary
Bondarenko, G., (2009), Oral past and written present in ‘The Finding of the Táin’. Ulidia 2, 2 . pp. 18-24. PDF
Evans, E.E., (2000), Irish Folk Ways. pp. 292-293.
Mackillop, J., (1998), Echtra Nerai: Dictionary of Celtic Mythology. pp. 149-150.
Retief, F.P., Cilliers, L., (2006), Burial customs, the afterlife and pollution of death in ancient Greece. Acta Theologica, vol 26. No 2. pp. 44-61. PDF
Retief, F.P., Cilliers, L., (2006), Burial customs and the pollution of death in ancient Rome, procedures and paradoxes. Acta Theologica, Vol. 26. No 2., pp. 128-146. PDF
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
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.
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.
Saturday, April 7, 2012
A terrible beauty is born...
Not being a Christian, a Heathen, or having children of my own, Easter doesn't really count for much around my household. Family tradition generally holds that we have some sort of dinner, and more than likely I'll be going to my fiances grandmothers tomorrow. So, without much to say about it, here is a lovely poem by W. B. Yates:
Easter 1916
I have met them at close of day
Coming with vivid faces
From counter or desk among grey
Eighteenth-century houses.
I have passed with a nod of the head
Or polite meaningless words,
Or have lingered awhile and said
Polite meaningless words,
And thought before I had done
Of a mocking tale or a gibe
To please a companion
Around the fire at the club,
Being certain that they and I
But lived where motley is worn:
All changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.
That woman's days were spent
In ignorant good-will,
Her nights in argument
Until her voice grew shrill.
What voice more sweet than hers
When, young and beautiful,
She rode to harriers?
This man had kept a school
And rode our winged horse;
This other his helper and friend
Was coming into his force;
He might have won fame in the end,
So sensitive his nature seemed,
So daring and sweet his thought.
This other man I had dreamed
A drunken, vainglorious lout.
He had done most bitter wrong
To some who are near my heart,
Yet I number him in the song;
He, too, has resigned his part
In the casual comedy;
He, too, has been changed in his turn,
Transformed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.
Hearts with one purpose alone
Through summer and winter seem
Enchanted to a stone
To trouble the living stream.
The horse that comes from the road.
The rider, the birds that range
From cloud to tumbling cloud,
Minute by minute they change;
A shadow of cloud on the stream
Changes minute by minute;
A horse-hoof slides on the brim,
And a horse plashes within it;
The long-legged moor-hens dive,
And hens to moor-cocks call;
Minute by minute they live:
The stone's in the midst of all.
Too long a sacrifice
Can make a stone of the heart.
O when may it suffice?
That is Heaven's part, our part
To murmur name upon name,
As a mother names her child
When sleep at last has come
On limbs that had run wild.
What is it but nightfall?
No, no, not night but death;
Was it needless death after all?
For England may keep faith
For all that is done and said.
We know their dream; enough
To know they dreamed and are dead;
And what if excess of love
Bewildered them till they died?
I write it out in a verse -
MacDonagh and MacBride
And Connolly and Pearse
Now and in time to be,
Wherever green is worn,
Are changed, changed utterly:
A terrible brauty is born.
Have a Happy Easter!
Easter 1916
I have met them at close of day
Coming with vivid faces
From counter or desk among grey
Eighteenth-century houses.
I have passed with a nod of the head
Or polite meaningless words,
Or have lingered awhile and said
Polite meaningless words,
And thought before I had done
Of a mocking tale or a gibe
To please a companion
Around the fire at the club,
Being certain that they and I
But lived where motley is worn:
All changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.
That woman's days were spent
In ignorant good-will,
Her nights in argument
Until her voice grew shrill.
What voice more sweet than hers
When, young and beautiful,
She rode to harriers?
This man had kept a school
And rode our winged horse;
This other his helper and friend
Was coming into his force;
He might have won fame in the end,
So sensitive his nature seemed,
So daring and sweet his thought.
This other man I had dreamed
A drunken, vainglorious lout.
He had done most bitter wrong
To some who are near my heart,
Yet I number him in the song;
He, too, has resigned his part
In the casual comedy;
He, too, has been changed in his turn,
Transformed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.
Hearts with one purpose alone
Through summer and winter seem
Enchanted to a stone
To trouble the living stream.
The horse that comes from the road.
The rider, the birds that range
From cloud to tumbling cloud,
Minute by minute they change;
A shadow of cloud on the stream
Changes minute by minute;
A horse-hoof slides on the brim,
And a horse plashes within it;
The long-legged moor-hens dive,
And hens to moor-cocks call;
Minute by minute they live:
The stone's in the midst of all.
Too long a sacrifice
Can make a stone of the heart.
O when may it suffice?
That is Heaven's part, our part
To murmur name upon name,
As a mother names her child
When sleep at last has come
On limbs that had run wild.
What is it but nightfall?
No, no, not night but death;
Was it needless death after all?
For England may keep faith
For all that is done and said.
We know their dream; enough
To know they dreamed and are dead;
And what if excess of love
Bewildered them till they died?
I write it out in a verse -
MacDonagh and MacBride
And Connolly and Pearse
Now and in time to be,
Wherever green is worn,
Are changed, changed utterly:
A terrible brauty is born.
Have a Happy Easter!
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
I went for a walk today or everyday Animism
[I had originally begun this post on February 23, but did not get around to finishing it until now]
On my way home from work late yesterday afternoon, I decided that instead of waiting to cram myself onto an over loaded bus, that I would walk the six or so blocks home. While I did manage to get to "my stop" before the bus I would have been on, I was also reminded of how much I love walking as an activity. I hadn't actually gone for a 'good walk" in almost three years; which is about as long as I have had my car. I mean I used to walk a lot, and for no other reason than I enjoyed doing it and becoming familiar with my surroundings. Even when I was at university, on the day I had a five hour spare, I would simply pick a direction and start walking. There are just so many fascinating details that you miss when you're speeding along, and haven't got the ability or the time to notice them. So, since today was my first day off in a little over a week, I decided that I should go for one of those "good walks".
There are two major rivers in my city, and one which is very near my house, the Humber. Now I do devotional offerings to the Humber, and maybe one day I'll write about all the nifty little concurrences which lead me to do this, but suffice to say "she" is important to me. So, while I have visited the head waters, and the bay into which the Humber empties, and explored a few choice locations, I've never actually made much use of the system of parks which runs along side her. With a quick google earth + conservatory inquiry, I had my itinerary, and my route. The route was somewhere around 20 km, and followed a meandering system of trails, bridges, street connections and some "rougher" terrain. I managed to walk it in five hours, not bad considering that I made a good number of stops to look around and appreciate the scenery, and that I haven't walked this sort of distance in at least three years.
Where I entered, at Finch Ave. and Islington Ave., I decided to look for a stone from the river, which I would carry with me to deposit at the mouth, and found one in short order. Then something odd happened, I was just about to cross the bridge when I heard a splash, and saw a woman come rather quickly towards me, turn up the path and onto the street; I did notice that she had an empty black canvas bag. When I began crossing the bridge, I looked down and floating down the river where four daikon radishes and a turnip. I'm not sure if this was simply a case of someone dumping refuse (which makes little sense, since organic waste pickup is tomorrow) or something else, it was just odd to have (what appeared to be) perfectly good root vegetables thrown into a river.
Just across the bridge, there was a single large stone, which I joking dubbed Grainne's recliner; I did lay on it though, and it was surprisingly comfortable. Well if infertility is ever an issue, I know where to go. I made my way along the path and in short order came upon another foot bridge, and decided to feed some ducks who were swimming about just below it. Continuing on I encountered a number of fellow "travellers along the way" and did my best to greet all of them as we crossed paths. At this point, most were elderly and a few were walking their dogs. I continued on, came across a woodpecker, and then the sun decided to peek out from behind the clouds for a little while, so naturally I sang the Hymn to the Sun (CG 316):
As I travelled further I noticed a few interesting things. At one point, as the trail skirted around an impressive golf club, I noticed some interesting grafitti which had been scrawled onto the ground near a cement drainage way, "This, the great divide". Perhaps it seemed more poignant at the time, for now it seems nonsensical. Further on I came across a Great Blue Heron, simply standing as they tend to, on one leg, letting everything around them take in how terribly majestic they look; though to be honest the nearby ducks didn't seem to be having any of it.
I made my way, noted that the trail was populated in spurts, with folks more frequently clustered around the parks proper, or between catwalks leading from various neighbourhoods. I am happy to note that everyone returned my greetings, and the creeping smiles were difficult to miss; amazing how much of an effect even the simplest of courtisies can have on someones disposition. Along the trail, especially the second and third sections, the city of Toronto has these small informational stands set up. They are usually shaped in small circles, refered to as "story circles" made of hewn stone and paved with white limestone; they contain infographics and texts explaining the significance of this particular area, or mention the tribe of first nations which had settlements where we now stood. At one such location, I met an elderly couple who were also enjoying the weather, but who lamented that the present stands were dirty, covered in a thin layer of dirt or mud, which obscured the information. Having a bottle of water handy, I did my best to clean them off, while the older gentleman did his part and wiped them dry with leaves. They seemed to be very glad that another person would care as much as they did, and I always love to see civic duty in action. We bid each other a good day, and I continued on my way.
I have to say that the most bizzare, and the most surreal moments of my journey happend very close to one another. The bizzare was that as I walked through one of the more intricate paths, which had been built up with logs and board walks, as opposed to the typical asphalt; I noticed a single log with the website infowars.com written in thick, black permanent marker. It wasn't as if this was some sign post or permanent fixture, it was just a random log lying at the side of the trail, and someone had taken the time to advertise for the ridiculous conspiracy-theorist website, in the middle of an urban wilderness. The more surreal experience occured shortly after, when I can across a single mound, topped with a tree, which was covered by thick, emerald ivy. The contrast with the surrounding areas was stark, to say the least, as everything else was a muted brown. That a sunbeam managed to pierce through the cloud cover, and illuminate the mound just so, was simply too much to take seriouisly; it was the kind of beautiful image which would be overlain with some sappy quote or mind numbingly insipid poem.
There were other interesting things to make note of, which few of the other people who passed them by seemed to give much heed. There were all manner of memorial benches, stones and especially trees scattered across the numerous parks which made up a good chunk of the trail. Benches dedicated to members of local community groups who had helped in revitalization projects; a monument to a man who had "died while vainly attempting to save two boys from drowning"; a tree which was decorated with christmas ornaments, with a plaque which explained the planting was in memorium of a now deceased boy scout, still maintained by some degree, by his family or troop. There were, in fact, many small decorations or personal touches which accompanied the small plaques, mounted on cross cut cement cylinders, explaining who the tree was dedicated to. Living memorials, physical embodiments of grief and loss; growing in proxy of young lives cut short, or long lives now spent.
I eventually reached my goal, the Humber bay, after walking aong the trail as it crossed through two unique, "remnant" ecological areas. To the left of me was the Humber Marshes and to the right a Black Oak Savanna. The bay, as can be expected of most green areas of the lake shore, was fairly busy. I made my way to the shore of lake Ontario, and sat on the large rocks which had been deposited to prevent the erposion of the shore, and relaxed for a bit in the late afternoon sun. One of the very nifty things about this small parkette are the collection of standing stones which sit on top of a small hill, known as the "Sheldon Lookout" or the "Stones of Sheldon". One of these stones contain two plaques which will align with the summer and winter solstices at dawn on their respective days. I wonder if any of the local Pagans make use of them, and it may bare looking into.
I crossed the large Humber bay bridge, stopping in the middle to say a final prayer and dropping the stone I had been carrying with me all day, into the river. Both of our journiey's complete, I crossed the bridge and began to make my way back home. My souvenirs included a small blister on my right foot, and terrible back pain for the next day, but the experience was more than worth it. Being out in the tame nature we in this great metropolis have maintained, exploring the different environments through which the Humber flows, and really coming to appreciate just how significant this one river is to the city. I may be one of the only people around who would admit to leaving offerings to the River, but if my journey taught me anything, I am far from the only person in this city who still worships her.
-Gorm.
PS. I linked above to a website which seems to be a labour of love, the Toronto Historical Plaques site. This is maintained by Alan L. Brown and for anyone in the GTA or who may be interested in the multitude of plaques placed around the city, there really is no better resource.
On my way home from work late yesterday afternoon, I decided that instead of waiting to cram myself onto an over loaded bus, that I would walk the six or so blocks home. While I did manage to get to "my stop" before the bus I would have been on, I was also reminded of how much I love walking as an activity. I hadn't actually gone for a 'good walk" in almost three years; which is about as long as I have had my car. I mean I used to walk a lot, and for no other reason than I enjoyed doing it and becoming familiar with my surroundings. Even when I was at university, on the day I had a five hour spare, I would simply pick a direction and start walking. There are just so many fascinating details that you miss when you're speeding along, and haven't got the ability or the time to notice them. So, since today was my first day off in a little over a week, I decided that I should go for one of those "good walks".
There are two major rivers in my city, and one which is very near my house, the Humber. Now I do devotional offerings to the Humber, and maybe one day I'll write about all the nifty little concurrences which lead me to do this, but suffice to say "she" is important to me. So, while I have visited the head waters, and the bay into which the Humber empties, and explored a few choice locations, I've never actually made much use of the system of parks which runs along side her. With a quick google earth + conservatory inquiry, I had my itinerary, and my route. The route was somewhere around 20 km, and followed a meandering system of trails, bridges, street connections and some "rougher" terrain. I managed to walk it in five hours, not bad considering that I made a good number of stops to look around and appreciate the scenery, and that I haven't walked this sort of distance in at least three years.
Where I entered, at Finch Ave. and Islington Ave., I decided to look for a stone from the river, which I would carry with me to deposit at the mouth, and found one in short order. Then something odd happened, I was just about to cross the bridge when I heard a splash, and saw a woman come rather quickly towards me, turn up the path and onto the street; I did notice that she had an empty black canvas bag. When I began crossing the bridge, I looked down and floating down the river where four daikon radishes and a turnip. I'm not sure if this was simply a case of someone dumping refuse (which makes little sense, since organic waste pickup is tomorrow) or something else, it was just odd to have (what appeared to be) perfectly good root vegetables thrown into a river.
Just across the bridge, there was a single large stone, which I joking dubbed Grainne's recliner; I did lay on it though, and it was surprisingly comfortable. Well if infertility is ever an issue, I know where to go. I made my way along the path and in short order came upon another foot bridge, and decided to feed some ducks who were swimming about just below it. Continuing on I encountered a number of fellow "travellers along the way" and did my best to greet all of them as we crossed paths. At this point, most were elderly and a few were walking their dogs. I continued on, came across a woodpecker, and then the sun decided to peek out from behind the clouds for a little while, so naturally I sang the Hymn to the Sun (CG 316):
Hail to thee, thou son of the season, as thou traverst the skies aloftI continued on, taking in the warmness the sun now provided; enjoying the unseasonably warm February day and musing on the approaching spring. Already the signs were everywhere; the chlorophyll was returning to the grass, trees were already beginning to bud neihert surprising considering how mild the winter had been, and how noticibly absent snow was. I travelled south, crossing through several different parks and passing by an area where I maintained a sort of make shift shrine, dedicated to the Humber herself. Unfortunately, visiting it would have taken me off my current path, and as I had been there the previous week, felt no need to stop by. I was, after all spending the day with the river. Actually, now that I reflect on it the trail can roughly be split into three different segments, the first and third tended to follow the course of the Humber more closely, the middle ended up meandering away from it for significant chunks.
Thy steps are strong on the wing of the heavens, Thou art the glorious mother of the stars
Thou liest down in the destructive ocean, without impairment and without fear
Thou risest up on the peaceful wave crest, like a queenly maiden in bloom.
As I travelled further I noticed a few interesting things. At one point, as the trail skirted around an impressive golf club, I noticed some interesting grafitti which had been scrawled onto the ground near a cement drainage way, "This, the great divide". Perhaps it seemed more poignant at the time, for now it seems nonsensical. Further on I came across a Great Blue Heron, simply standing as they tend to, on one leg, letting everything around them take in how terribly majestic they look; though to be honest the nearby ducks didn't seem to be having any of it.
I made my way, noted that the trail was populated in spurts, with folks more frequently clustered around the parks proper, or between catwalks leading from various neighbourhoods. I am happy to note that everyone returned my greetings, and the creeping smiles were difficult to miss; amazing how much of an effect even the simplest of courtisies can have on someones disposition. Along the trail, especially the second and third sections, the city of Toronto has these small informational stands set up. They are usually shaped in small circles, refered to as "story circles" made of hewn stone and paved with white limestone; they contain infographics and texts explaining the significance of this particular area, or mention the tribe of first nations which had settlements where we now stood. At one such location, I met an elderly couple who were also enjoying the weather, but who lamented that the present stands were dirty, covered in a thin layer of dirt or mud, which obscured the information. Having a bottle of water handy, I did my best to clean them off, while the older gentleman did his part and wiped them dry with leaves. They seemed to be very glad that another person would care as much as they did, and I always love to see civic duty in action. We bid each other a good day, and I continued on my way.
I have to say that the most bizzare, and the most surreal moments of my journey happend very close to one another. The bizzare was that as I walked through one of the more intricate paths, which had been built up with logs and board walks, as opposed to the typical asphalt; I noticed a single log with the website infowars.com written in thick, black permanent marker. It wasn't as if this was some sign post or permanent fixture, it was just a random log lying at the side of the trail, and someone had taken the time to advertise for the ridiculous conspiracy-theorist website, in the middle of an urban wilderness. The more surreal experience occured shortly after, when I can across a single mound, topped with a tree, which was covered by thick, emerald ivy. The contrast with the surrounding areas was stark, to say the least, as everything else was a muted brown. That a sunbeam managed to pierce through the cloud cover, and illuminate the mound just so, was simply too much to take seriouisly; it was the kind of beautiful image which would be overlain with some sappy quote or mind numbingly insipid poem.
There were other interesting things to make note of, which few of the other people who passed them by seemed to give much heed. There were all manner of memorial benches, stones and especially trees scattered across the numerous parks which made up a good chunk of the trail. Benches dedicated to members of local community groups who had helped in revitalization projects; a monument to a man who had "died while vainly attempting to save two boys from drowning"; a tree which was decorated with christmas ornaments, with a plaque which explained the planting was in memorium of a now deceased boy scout, still maintained by some degree, by his family or troop. There were, in fact, many small decorations or personal touches which accompanied the small plaques, mounted on cross cut cement cylinders, explaining who the tree was dedicated to. Living memorials, physical embodiments of grief and loss; growing in proxy of young lives cut short, or long lives now spent.
I eventually reached my goal, the Humber bay, after walking aong the trail as it crossed through two unique, "remnant" ecological areas. To the left of me was the Humber Marshes and to the right a Black Oak Savanna. The bay, as can be expected of most green areas of the lake shore, was fairly busy. I made my way to the shore of lake Ontario, and sat on the large rocks which had been deposited to prevent the erposion of the shore, and relaxed for a bit in the late afternoon sun. One of the very nifty things about this small parkette are the collection of standing stones which sit on top of a small hill, known as the "Sheldon Lookout" or the "Stones of Sheldon". One of these stones contain two plaques which will align with the summer and winter solstices at dawn on their respective days. I wonder if any of the local Pagans make use of them, and it may bare looking into.
I crossed the large Humber bay bridge, stopping in the middle to say a final prayer and dropping the stone I had been carrying with me all day, into the river. Both of our journiey's complete, I crossed the bridge and began to make my way back home. My souvenirs included a small blister on my right foot, and terrible back pain for the next day, but the experience was more than worth it. Being out in the tame nature we in this great metropolis have maintained, exploring the different environments through which the Humber flows, and really coming to appreciate just how significant this one river is to the city. I may be one of the only people around who would admit to leaving offerings to the River, but if my journey taught me anything, I am far from the only person in this city who still worships her.
-Gorm.
PS. I linked above to a website which seems to be a labour of love, the Toronto Historical Plaques site. This is maintained by Alan L. Brown and for anyone in the GTA or who may be interested in the multitude of plaques placed around the city, there really is no better resource.
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