Excerpt from Polybius

*Warning Trigger*

I recently acquired my very own copy of "The Celtic Heroic Age" and have been pouring over the continental material as they are the sources I am least familiar with. There are a number of interesting sources, but for some reason I found this particular excerpt stood out more than many of the others. It could be the aspect of justice entailed, it could be the presentation of the juxtaposed gender role of a woman protecting her own "virtue", or it could be what I would consider an almost "Celtic" humour. Such sardonic humour is found in many of the medieval Irish texts, and it is interesting that it pops up in a Greek "historic" source from the 2nd century BCE as well. The excerpt if from Histories: 21.38.1-6:

By chance, one of the prisoners captured when the Romans defeated the Asian Galatae at Olympus was Chiomara, wife of Ortiagon. The centurion in charge of her took advantage of his soldierly opportunity and raped her. He was indeed a slave to both lust and money, but eventually his love of money won out. With a large amount of gold being agreed on, he led her away to be ransomed. There was a river between the two camps, and the Galatae crossed it, paid the ransom, and received the woman. When this was accomplished, she ordered one of them to with a nod to kill the Roman as he was making a polite and affectionate farewell. The man obeyed and cut off the centurion's head. She picked it up and rode off with it wrapped in the folds of her dress. When she reached her husband, she threw it at his feet. He was astonished and said, 'Wife, faithfulness is a good thing.' 'Yes,' she said, 'but it is better that only one man alive would have lain with me.'

Liminality

Liminality; it is a term which many are unfamiliar with, to the extent that most spell checkers do not recognize it. For others, however, it is a concept which is of central importance. It has been my experience that anyone versed in the study of mythology is familiar, if not well versed, in discussions of liminality. My profession (well potential profession anyway) finds many of our activities occupying a very liminal period of time. From a GRP perspective, liminality is a central component of marking time and periods of significance.

Liminal, literally means threshold, the area between one area and another; the space in-between. A few people may be scratching their heads; a threshold? There is nothing significant about that, what amounts to little more than a few inches of space between where you are and where you are going. I'd argue though, that it is precisely because it is, quite literally "neither here, nor there" that it has occupied the imaginations of the folks who stop to think about just how powerful such a state really is. Borders have always been powerful, and much of how we understand, order and define space is based on the idea of what markers separate "here" from "there". Liminality; however, is not a way to create or define borders, because it is decidedly messier.

The ability to differing between two states can range from the simple to the complex. A dichotomy like inside and outside is far easier to define and understand, than say between life and death. Still, almost every culture has at some point defined what "life" and "death" mean. Since each of these aspects are so central to the human condition, the concept of liminality is of considerable importance when it comes to issues of death and dying. I mentioned earlier that my (eventual) profession is occupied with a liminal period, and that is between death and disposition. There is some sense, even among those who may not be religious, that the time between somatic death and final disposition (be it burial, entombment or cremation) is none the less an almost literal state of transition. I will have a lot more to say on this particular subject at a later date, but as I do not want to go off on a tangent; let me simply say that there is no other period in a  persons life where I believe liminality is so apparent, than around a death.

In the lore, we encounter liminality all the time, for these are often where the important actions or events occur. In the Táin Bó Cúailnge, the majority of Cúchulain's combats occur at fords, areas of higher elevation creating shallow portions of a river or stream, which allow crossings. As rivers form natural barriers, the ford is a place in-between; a liminal area. The reason for the use of a ford as a battle ground is not simply for practical purposes, but because of the symbolism inherent in it as a liminal place. Similarly, the shore is also imbued with liminality, being the place between land and sea. The sea shore is often the place where the denizens of the otherworld interact with humans. In Immram Brain, we have Bran setting off for the otherworld in a coracle, and returning to this world and meeting folks on the shore. Of course as time flows differently, he appears to the inhabitants to be an otherwordly being himself and has become removed from the natural flow of time. Likewise the area's between land and sky, hilltops or mountains, also display the importance of liminality. While the strategic nature of building structures on higher elevations is quite clear, if one examines the tales, we find yet again the same sorts of symbolism associated. In one version of the arrival of the Tuatha De Danann, they arrive on clouds, causing a solar eclipse (more liminal symbolism) and "land" on a mountain top, before setting out to conquer Ireland.

Folklore too, is replete with activities which attest to the significance of liminal spaces or times. How often are door frames the place where charms are kept and windowsills where offerings are left?

Of all the holidays, Oíche Shamhna is the best example of a day which is in essence, dedicated to liminality. The day covers (or has been argued to be) the time between the new and old year. Further, the "veil" between this world and the otherworld, our realm and that of the gods, is thinnest. This had survived in folk beliefs through the belief that the veil between the living and the dead was also transversed with ease, and so one finds any number of divination customs in the texts. The idea that the ancestral spirits may also come to call, encouraged the setting of an extra place at a table, or leaving out of offerings for those wandering spirits. Conversely, as Lá Bealtaine in our world corresponds with Oíche Shamhna in the otherworld, the same symbolism (though to a lesser extent) is also observable in folks activities around that time as well.

"Civic Religion"

This is a bit of an odd post, but was the best way I could think of discussing the subject. A bit of background first. Last week Police sergeant Ryan Russell, was struck and killed by a (deranged) man who had stolen a snow plow. The public outpouring of grief from my city; from politician to plebeian, radio host to new anchor, journalist to blogger. There was a two day visitation, during which hundreds of people lined up outside the funeral home to offer their condolences. Today was the funeral, a procession of around 8000 police officers from Toronto, around the GTA and even from the US marched down a major thoroughfare, itself lined with somber faced civilians, to the Metro Toronto Convention Centre. The funeral service was held in the MTCC, and by the time the service began, some 14 000 people had come out. Many dignitaries associated with the Police, a former Chief turned MP (who had sworn the fallen officer into the service), Current Chief Bill Blair, among them, gave eulogies and sympathies for the family, both personal and professional. The service was long, punctuated with music and speeches, but the solemnity of the day was not lost on anyone. The final farewell for a hero, who had, as his wife so eloquently spoke, “Ryan put others before himself. On Jan. 12, this cost him his life.”

Such an event is very rare, this being the first fatality involving an on duty Police officer in almost a decade. Very public, and generally widely supported. Of course there are a few voices of dissent, that the entire thing was "over the top", or a "PR campaign to boost the image of Metro Cops", who admittedly have been under a good deal of public scrutiny surrounding the events during the G20 conference in June 2010. Despite this sort of cynicism, however, I believe that this is a striking example of what I would call "civic religion".

One may observe "civic religion" in many of the events which seem to permeate a give community, though more often than not, it is at its finest when giving reverence for the dead. There is a sacredness associated with those who have died in the service of community, of province and of country. In the case of the war dead, it has been formalized for almost a century. Even now, a significant portion of the main artery of southern Ontario, the 401, has been dedicated as the "highway of heroes" and all of the men and women who have been killed in Afghanistan, have made their way down this stretch of highway. People still line up on over-passes waving flags or saluting, motorists will pull over to the side of the road to allow the motorcades transporting the fallen, to pass.

The word "hero" is almost always used by those who wish to honour the life and sacrifice of those who are willing to, and have, given their lives in service to others. Yet this cynicism remains, "the only reason he's a 'hero' is because he was killed" or similar sentiments may accompany discussion, some times in hushed tones, sometimes in screaming derision. The very word "hero", itself derived from the Greek hērōs, itself (likely) derived from the Proto-Indo-European *ser (to  watch over, protect) entails those who are charged, by community and state with protecting those who can not. In the tales, we see this time and time again, the function of a hero above all else, is the defense of his kith and kin. I think the people who see things so cynically, have a very deep misunderstanding of what "heroic" means, of the value of a life in general, and more so for the life of a person who was willing to live in service to others. It is because of the way they lived their lives, and not simply the manner of their death, that makes someone a hero, and thus worthy of respect, if not reverence.

My heart goes out to the family of Sgt. Russell, and may he be warmly welcomed in the halls of his ancestors.

Appeasing hostility

This pertains to one of the stronger instances of UPG I have had, which involves a very negative experience. This happened a few years ago, and was the singular instance where I have experienced a distinct urge to run and not look back. A bit of background info then. I have always been fairly comfortable around the dead, be it at a funeral or in a cemetery; one of the reasons I have chosen the career I am in us because of my level of comfort. I rather enjoy cemeteries actually, and there are quite a few nice ones scattered around the city I live in. Often times my fiance and I will drive to one and walk around, especially the ones who have older monuments. The long and short of it is that I have never been uncomfortable in a cemetery; never found it weird or creepy.

Now, a few years back I was visiting a mausoleum with my fiance, her uncle had a vault in it, and I was doing perfectly well before we entered. Upon entering the structure however, I became increasingly apprehensive. We climbed the stairs to get to the second floor and I became very uncomfortable. The longer I remained in the building, the more I felt unwelcome, as if some oppressive force was really annoyed with my presence and wanted me to get out. At this point, my fiance had noticed my colour was a little drained and inquired what was wrong. "I need to leave, right now" I replied . "Why?" she asked, "You've never had a problem before". "Something really, really doesn't want me here." I responded, and the feeling was only getting worse. It was at this point that I remembered an article I had read, which was written by a couple of Celtic Recons, appropriately titled: "KILLYOUANDEATYOU: or a well intentioned Celt's guide to non-Celtic bio-regions". At this point, it certainly felt like something wanted to do just that, and I walked as calmly as I could out of the building, and did not stop until he feeling had subsided. Fortunately it did so almost as soon as I was past the threshold. I have not been back to that building since. It was a markedly odd event, but one which makes no sense to me except through the lens of UPG.

And now, my dilemma. This particular mausoleum is fairly new and frequented by an almost exclusively Catholic clientele.  The funeral home I will be working for, is fairly close to it, and is also almost exclusively Catholic's who often favour entombment. Therefore it is exceedingly likely that in the near future I will have to go back to this mausoleum. I am then in need of some method of appeasing or reaching some sort of understanding with the spirit(s) of place, and I am at a loss as to how to go about doing this. It is publicly accessible, so I could fairly easily get in and try to leave an offering, though I am then at a loss with regards to what I should leave. It would be rather helpful if anyone had some suggestions or sources they could direct me to. I've gone through the article I mentioned above, but unfortunately I am (likely) not going to be in a position where leaving "well enough alone" is a possibility open to me.

Gorm.

PS: I wonder if perhaps posting this on the GN mailing list may also elicit some suggestions from those who do not read my blog?

Etiquette in another's house of worship

This is an issue I often have some difficulty with, because what my own gods expect from me is quite different than what other people's deities expect from them; though my understanding is that most of the cultural polytheistic world views are similar to my own. So the appropriate response for me when interacting with folks who are doing a ritual with deities I do not worship (a dirty word for some, but I take the word at face value) is often to simply not participate in those rituals; and generally no one bats an eye.

There is, however, a bit of a dilemma when I am expected to perform specific actions in the context of my (current/future) profession, especially in a Christian, and specifically Catholic context. There is a remarkably high likelihood that I will very soon be working for a funeral home which caters to an overwhelmingly Catholic clientele. As far as I know, the fact that I am not a Catholic is perfectly fine, this may change, I will know more at a later date, but I do not expect it to. No my issue is with a specific action pertaining to my duties as an FDA/FD, and that involves the practice of genuflection. My experience working Catholic funerals has involved some sort of genuflection, unless specified by the funeral home to not do so, in all cases.

I fear I may simply be over thinking the entire thing, after all a genuflection is not a sign of obeisance so much as it is one of respect. Given that I am in the house of worship of another deity, I suppose a little respect is not a lot to ask for, even if I do not particularly care for said deity. I suppose so long as I am able to separate the notion of genuflecting from prostrating, I haven't really anything to worry about. Plus, I suppose it would be the hospitable thing to do as well, showing respect to the "master of a house" is proper etiquette after all, and I would most certainly be a guest in said "house".

I would love to have some feedback on this one.

Gorm.

Christmas, etc.

I have to admit that this post is in large part due to the conversations abounding in the polytheistic blogosphere; let it never be said that I will not jump on a band wagon when it is playing a tune I like!

So Christmas, Yuletide, the Holiday Season. Christian v Pagan, Religious v Secular, and all that hullabaloo. It`s been done, and likely better than I could surmise here. So I will take a different tack, and simply talk about why Christmas is important to me.

I suppose it bears a brief discussion of the religious aspects ( I know, I know, I said I wouldn't but what kind of polytheist blog woudl this be without a little religious content?). Christmas, for me, has never really been a religious holiday. My parents would probably both label themselves some kind of Christian, though I was raised in a rather agnostic household. Christmas in my home was not about creches, wise-men or infant demigods, but rather evergreens, decorations and family. Oddly enough, any sort of religious context would have been gleaned from the Christmas carols we sung at school, in the Christmas pageant, or in conversations I did not quite understand at the time, with school mates. No, Christmas has always been secular for me, and perhaps I am better able to continue the celebration of it, despite not adhering to the religious significance most others associate it with.

From the other aspect, as a Gaelic polytheist, the solstice is not something which tends to be marked. I understand this may strike some people as odd, as the vast majority of Pagans mark the solstices and equinoxes in some way or another. Heck, even a lot of Druids will mark the solar markers are important, and point to structures like New Grange and some other passage tombs, which do seem to have some correlation with the solar events, as proof that the pre-Christian Gaels did acknowledge them. My argument, would simply be that while the neolithic structures do (likely) correspond, they are neolithic, not Iron age. As such, there is nothing in any of the extant texts which show that the pre-Christian Gaels had any kind of celebrations or festivals pertaining to the solstices and equinoxes. This is often a major point of contention between a lot of modern Druids, Celtic polytheists and Reconstructionists, and gets back to the debate about whether or not sun worship or solar deities were a part of pre-Christian Celtic religion. Other than a few epithets, pertaining to shinning ones (which have a number of interpretations) and the earnest, but now highly doubted, Celticists of the late 19th century, there simply are no reliable sources which support the idea that the Celts were sun worshipers. Further, there is nothing in the existing folklore or festivals which bear any mention of celebrations of the solstices and equinoxes. The consensus is that the pre-Christian Gaelic calendar probably revolved around the cycle of the harvest and livestock, and this is reflected in the texts and folklore, via the so called "cross quarter days". As such, there is little religious content from my current beliefs either, and so I will wish people a Blessesed or Joyous Yuletide, but do not celebrate Yule either, though I can appreciate that what I have always associated Christmas with, is decidedly pre-Christian in origin.

But I digress. Christmas to me, has always been about decorations, music, feasting and family. However task of decorating our Christmas tree has always stood out in my mind as the quintessential Christmas memory. For almost all the years until I was in my late teens, we would harvest our own tree. This would involve getting up early, dressing myself and my two younger brothers in full snow regalia, piling into my father's pickup, and driving to a smallish town north of Toronto. We would arrive, pile out, and traipse through the parking lot, past the pre-cut trees lined up near a barn, and line up to hitch a ride on the wagon. Now the wagon was pulled either by two rather large Clydesdale's, or less enchantingly, a tractor. Needless to say we preferred getting the horses. We would then ride out, along with other families, through the tree farm, until we reached the section we wanted. Most of the time we would get spruce, the needles were fairly sharp, but they were a lot more manageable than pine, and held ornaments better than fir. We would systematically walk up and down the rows, seeking out that particular tree. Generally it was my father and mother doing the searching; my brothers and I would be running around, trying to pelt each other with snowballs. Eventually one tree would be chosen, and cut down using a bow-saw (my father owned a remarkably large assortment of tools). We would then carry it out to the wagon trail and await an empty cart. I should mention that b this point, what was pulling the wagon was secondary to what would get us back to the entrance, which had a bonfire, hot chocolate and a Santa walking around handing out candy canes. The tree would be wrapped, and we would truck it out to the pickup. The drive back was more subdued, due to the fact that we had spent the afternoon running about in foot deep snow. We would carry the tree in through the sliding glass doors we had, and stand it up in a large bucket, filled with sand. My father had worked out long ago that a sand filled bucket was far better than a plastic or metal tree stand; our tree would remain green well into the new year. The tree would then be untied, and left to stand over night.

Some time the following day, my mother would haul out the box of decorations and we would begin trimming the tree. We would pop one of several Christmas cassettes into the player, which would belt out standards; to this day, as much as some people revile the song, "simply having a wonderful Christmas time" complete with synthesized chorus, is still my favourite Christmas song.  We had a variety of ornaments, many of which we still have today, tucked away in boxes somewhere. The lights would be the first to go on, and we had a couple of different styles of strings; some which were flower shaped, with small foil petals which would reflect the light, others of a more traditional variety where if one bulb failed, they all would. One year we bought a little timer, which would allow the lights to come on in patterns, and the that was very cool. Our tree topper was always a star, and when I think of it now, the thing was awfully gaudy. Five individual lights, with small reflective foil, and ornamented with blue tinsel fringes, but it was OUR star, and I have yet to see another like it. Our ornaments ranged from the traditional glass balls, or various sizes and colours, a growing number of ornaments made by myself or my brothers, those which commemorated each of our first Christmases, these sort of ridiculous stuffed men who had hockey jerseys on, and my mothers favourites, small glass birds which had fiber-optic wings and attached to the tree on these little clips. They were ancient, and very fragile and we couldn't touch them, but there were something to behold. We would then add either strings of metallic garland, or metallic beads. Finally a liberal draping of tinsel "icicles" would complete the trimming. We would then spend the rest of the day decorating the rest of the house.

To me, that was (and is) what Christmas was about; spending time with my family, expending hours of time in an effort to deck our home in Christmas cheer. I may be overly sentimental, and frankly there is little that I am really sentimental about, but at the end of the day it wasn't about the gifts, or the food, or the jingles or spirituality, it was about spending time together as a family. And really, that is why I continue to celebrate the holiday, and hope to pass on my family's traditions.

Oh those Victorian sources...

Alas, it is still a work in progress, though I now find myself with a good deal of free time as I am free of classes for three weeks. I have started thoroughly reading through a good number of texts, and am finding a lot of very useful information.

However, I am also continually reminded of the hindrance that comes from relying on sources from the late 19th century. I can easily look past the sun worship references, that is very easy. It is all the other little Victorian biases which are so glaring as to make me have to really dig for useful info. A "Fijian" tribe of aborigines practiced cannibalism, as apparently all other barbaric savages, and so it is to be expected that the early Irish, being only slightly removed from such status would have done likewise. Oh, and tying the Fomorii, Fir Bolg and Tuatha De Danann to the extent that remains found MUST relate to this or that story we happen to have, are amusing at first, but soon become very irritating.

At least the bits pertaining to what was then contemporary folk practices is a lot more useful once you get used to the unabashed "anti-Irish racism" (you'd think someone would have come up with a better term for this by now?) and general superior attitude so common among Anglo commentators. Still, with little recourse, and a very critical eye, and an inordinate amount of cross checking with more modern sources, I am learning quite a lot which will be of great use overall.