Bacchus, the Liberator

"Bacchus" by Solomko (earliest 20th century)

The simplest way to comprehend Bacchus (also known as Dionysus and Liber) is to understand him to be the God of the vine and of wine, and all that is associated with wine. Ancient Romans shared many of our contemporary associations with wine, such as cheerfulness, licentiousness and night-time partying, but beyond this the ancients added a sacred dimension. In Latin the name of the God, Liber, literally means free.* The English word liberty derives from it, and that which the word stands for was sacrosanct to the Romans. Bacchus is also the God of libations, with wine being integral to many Roman rites, and the divine patron of religious intoxication and ecstasy, which presumably played a role the Dionysian mysteries. The God also has a dark side, and not only because his revels are often traditionally associated with the night. In liberating his devotees from ordinary cares and inhibitions he momentarily breaks the order of things. When Bacchus holds sway traditional social bonds loosen, including those of class, the family, gender relations, even the order of the State – and the mind – may dishevel. The Hellenic myths relating to King Pentheus and King Lycurgus spell out the danger, a danger that went beyond the mythical in the 2nd century BCE, when the Roman Senate felt compelled to restrict the practice of Bacchic religion.
 

A Critique of Atheism

"In the desert" by Gerome (1872)

In a couple of earlier posts I have spoken against the role Christianity played in my mother’s mind in the months leading up to her death from cancer – she was worried that as she was an apostate she was destined for hellfire.* However, it has since occurred to me that atheism was perhaps the fiercer torturer of her mind, because it was her quasi-atheism that prevented her from becoming the Christian she clearly wanted to be. Her heart was a Jesus loving Christian but her mind was a sceptical atheist – the two combined were a toxic mix that eroded her peace of mind at the time in life when we need peace of mind most (when we come to meet death). Atheistic tendencies and assumptions are becoming increasingly pervasive in contemporary (Western) society, and this is a problem for polytheists, for atheism denies the existence of all deities and so has the potential to act as spiritual poison in the wavering mind, as it did for my mother. I must admit that occasionally I feel myself swayed by atheistic tendencies (especially when I am sinking into depression). Thus, I feel the need to articulate the problems with atheism as I see it. They are as follows.**

1. By denying the existence of the divine (including the human spirit which continues on after death) atheism implicitly advocates the supremacy of a profaned material world.
2. Taken to its logical conclusion atheism gives us no reason to live; each of us is as Sisyphus, pointlessly labouring for a lifetime with nothing more fleeting than pleasure to console us.
3. Atheism gives us only reason and logic to trust in, but reason and logic can only get us so far. The unreasonable, emotional, imaginative, fertile and wild attraction of the Bacchanalia (and similar) will continually unfetter itself so long as life itself prevails.

Head Covering in Roman Polytheism (for Women)

Vibia Sabina, wife of Hadrian, 2nd century CE.
Source: iessi Flickr

For someone like me, who only allows my closest friends and family to know of my Pagan ways, I must admit I sometimes feel a tinge of envy when I see “moderate” Muslim women flaunting their religion so conspicuously by wearing colourful headscarves and modest Western dress.* It is historical fact that modest dress and head covering was widespread amongst ancient Roman women, so is this a tradition that contemporary Roman polytheists should adopt? I like to think I’m pretty open-minded so I want to try to understand what “the veil” meant to ancient Roman women. In particular, I want to understand if it was a religious practice.

Head covering  during religious rites

It is a fundamental basic of Roman polytheism that in most religious rites one, whether male or female, covers the head (capite velato), except where the ritus Graecus applies:

“The Romans usually sacrificed with the head covered. In the case of Apollo and Ceres, however, sacrifice was made in the Greek mode, with the head uncovered, apparently because these deities were considered to retain something of their Greek origin … [Warrior, Roman Religion, Cambridge University Press at 21].”

Plutarch (1st century CE) posed the question of why it is that when Romans worshipped the Gods they covered their heads and gave a tentative answer:

“… they thus worshipped the Gods, either humbling themselves by concealing the head, or rather by pulling the toga over their ears as a precaution lest any ill-omened and baleful sound from without should reach them while they were praying [Plutarch, Roman Questions, penelope.uchicago.edu].”

Covering the head thus denotes piety and establishes the fundamental dress code appropriate to most Roman rites. For me, when I cover my head before the household shrine it is as if I move from the profane to the sacred dimension of life. Also, as Plutarch says, covering the head may minimise the chance of seeing or hearing something inauspicious while conducting the rite. Thus one is less distracted and more focused. Averting negative influences by head covering is also alluded to by Virgil, in book III of the Aeneid; in which head covering is advised so that “no evil-eyed enemy face can intrude” on the rite (line 406, as translated by Ahl).

Epicurean Polytheism

Fresco from the Villa di Livia. Source: Lo Dolce Lume

Oftentimes the philosophy of Epicurus and his followers (most notably the Roman Lucretius), is cited as an important founding stone in the story of atheism.* This is despite the fact that Epicureanism does not deny the existence of the Gods, and in fact repeatedly affirms their existence. In his Letter to Menoeceus, Epicurus wrote that the first principle of his philosophy is that:

“the Gods exist … but they are not as the majority think them to be … For the assertions of the many [in 4th/3rd century BCE Athens] concerning the Gods are conceptions grounded … in false assumptions [O’Connor (trans), The Essential Epicurus, Prometheus Books at 62-63].”

In the same letter Epicurus goes on to argue that the best kind of man “keeps a reverent opinion about the Gods, and is altogether fearless of death and has reasoned out the end of nature” (ibid at 67). What is radical, and must have been profoundly radical in the ancient world, is the affirmation in the Principle Doctrines of Epicurus that a God is “free from trouble nor does it cause trouble for anyone else; therefore it is not constrained either by anger or by favour” (ibid at 69). However this is not to say that worship of the Gods is therefore useless, for it is known that Epicurus and his followers in fact did worship the Gods, but not in a greedy, grasping way, but rather as an act of reverence for beings who exhibit “the ultimate beatitude” (Urmson & Ree (Ed), The Concise Encyclopedia of Western Philosophy and Philosophers, Routledge at 93). The hope and belief was that by doing so we can become Gods ourselves, for to live according to Epicureanism is to “live as a God among men” (Epicurus, Letter to Menoeceus).

Faith in Polytheism

Roman coin depicting Fides, minted 2nd century CE
Source: romanmint.com

One of my first posts on this blog, nearly five years ago, was about the question of faith. It turns out this has been amongst the more popular of my posts. In it I essentially make the case for leaving faith out of my religious perspective. In one of the more articulate passages I wrote:

“Faith does not make anything true, it just makes something feel more true while at the same time abrogating one's ability to ask all possible questions and to be open to all possible answers.” 

When I wrote this my mother had been dead for less than a year. Her long illness (cancer) and death was profoundly traumatic for me and part of that experience was made up of her elder sisters, both devout Christians, coercing, persuading, and generally doing all that they could to convert her before she died. As she edged closer to death she began to fear the prospect of hell, without definitively converting, and it disturbed her peace of mind in her final months. For this reason I went through a phase of disliking Christianity and, to me, “faith” was a term irrevocably linked to it. I associated faith inextricably with the word that often precedes it – blind. The notion of faith seemed like (to me at the time) a dodgy trick by which people were lured into believing untrue things based on the flimsiest of evidence.* Fast-forward a few years and things have a changed somewhat. I can now look at faith without the caustic afterglow brought about by my previous antipathy to Christian beliefs.

The Lararium

Miniture bronze statue of Venus (1st-2nd century CE)
such as may have been placed on an ancient Lararium

For me, the heart of Roman polytheism lays with the Lararium – the household shrine which honours the household and patron Gods. For nearly seven years I have maintained this shrine and over the years its location, look and the ritual associated with it has changed. I make offerings several times a month. This is the time when my home, or at least my shrine, becomes a sacred space; when I connect with the divine, which is to say I connect with the universe more fulsomely because I do not simply use it for my own ends but offer in return my respect, my reverence, fire, water, food and incense. Without the Lararium Roman polytheism would, for me, be no more than a theory, or an inclination. With the Lararium it is ritual action, it is part of my life and my home.

The setting up of the Lararium is inspired by the ancient Roman practice of maintaining a sacred space in the home. Beard, North and Price write:

“The Roman house itself was the centre of family and private religion. In richer and middle-ranking houses a common feature was a shrine of the household gods – now conventionally known as a Lararium ... Commonly found in the central court (atrium) of a house, or sometimes in the kitchen, these shrines contained paintings or statuettes of household gods and other deities; they might also include (in a wealthier house) commemoration of the family's ancestors. We assume ... that these shrines would have formed the focus of family rituals ... [Beard et al, Religions of Rome: Volume 2, Cambridge University Press at 4.12]”

Isis in the Roman tradition

Bronze statue of Isis-Venus, 1st-2nd century CE

When (some) Romans first came to worship Isis in the first century BCE they embraced a religion that was even older than Christianity now is to us, for Isis had been worshipped in Egypt since the mid 2000s BCE. In neighbouring Greece she had been attracting worshippers since the 4th century BCE. Five-hundred years later, during the peak of the Roman empire, she was worshipped from as far west as England to as far east as Afghanistan; Tacitus even claimed she was worshipped as far north as Germania. She must have seemed exotically alluring to Romans in the same way that Indian spirituality captures the imagination of many Westerners today. Beyond the enticing mysteries of the orient the success of Isiacism was at least partly attributable to its ability to meet the needs of the increasingly diverse and cosmopolitan societies of the Roman empire. As a Goddess who subsumed the numerous other Gods of different regions Isis was able to achieve universal appeal – her cult was not restricted to Egyptians, but was embraced by people of all kinds of ethnic backgrounds. Likewise, Isis was revered by the educated elite as well as slaves, and by women as well as (or perhaps even more than) men.

Lucius Apuleius, an intellectual from Roman Numidia, reverently described a vision of the Goddess in his Metamorphoses (more commonly known as The Golden Ass):

“… she had a full head of hair which hung down, gradually curling as it spread loosely and flowed gently over her divine neck. Her lofty head was encircled by a garland interwoven with diverse blossoms, at the centre of which above her brow was a flat disk resembling a mirror, or rather the orb of the moon, which emitted a glittering light. The crown was held in place by coils of rearing snakes on right and left, and it was adorned above with waving ears of corn. She wore a multicoloured dress woven from fine linen, one part of which shone radiantly white, a second glowed yellow with saffron blossom, and a third blazed rosy red. But what riveted my eyes above all else was her jet-black cloak, which gleamed with a dark sheen as it enveloped her … Stars glittered here and there along its woven border and on its flat surface, and in their midst a full moon exhaled fiery flames. Wherever the hem of that magnificent cloak billowed out, a garland composed of every flower and every fruit was inseparably attached to it … In her right hand she carried a bronze rattle … when she shook the rattle vigorously three times with her arm, the rods gave out a shrill sound. From her left hand dangled a boat-shaped vessel, on the handle of which was the figure of a serpent … Her feet, divinely white, were shod of sandals fashioned from the leaves of the palm of victory … She breathed forth the fertile fragrance of Arabia [likely frankincense] as she deigned to address me in words divine: ‘Here I am, Lucius, roused by your prayers. I am the mother of the world of nature, mistress of all the elements, first-born in the realm of time. I am the loftiest of deities, queen of departed spirits, foremost of heavenly dwellers, the single embodiment of all Gods and Goddesses. I order with my nod the luminous heights of heaven, the healthy sea breezes, the sad silences of the infernal dwellers. The whole world worships this single godhead under a variety of shapes and liturgies and titles. In one land the Phrygians, first born of men, hail me as the Pessinnuntian mother of the Gods; elsewhere the native dwellers of Attica call me Cecropian Minerva; in other climes the wave-tossed Cypriots name me Paphian Venus; the Cretan archers, Dictynna Diana; the trilingual Sicilians, Ortygian Proserpina; the Eleusians, the ancients Goddess Ceres; some call me Juno, others Bellona, others Hecate, and others still Rhamnusia. But the peoples [of Ethiopia and Egypt] … worship me with the liturgy that is my own, and call me by my true name, which is Queen Isis.  

… set aside your grief, for through my providence your day of salvation is now dawning … Your future life will be blessed … and when you have lived out your life’s span and you journey to the realm of the dead … you will constantly adore me, for I shall be gracious to you. You will dwell in the Elysian fields … [Apuleius, The Golden Ass at 219-222].”

How to be a Bodhisattva

Buddha statue from Ghandara (Pakistan), 1st-2nd century CE.
Source: japanesemythology.wordpress.com

Defining Bodhisattva

Loosely put, Bodhisattvas can be described as Buddhist Deities, or if one comes from a Christian background one might understand them to be like Saints. Bodhisattvas are particularly important within the Mahayana tradition and practitioners are encouraged to aspire to become Bodhisattvas themselves. The history of the Bodhisattva concept is described thus:

“The term ‘bodhisattva’ appears first as the title the Buddha used to refer to himself before he realised nirvana. The Jataka Tales, popular scriptures of Theravada Buddhism, extend the concept of bodhisattva to include previous lives of the Buddha before he was born as Siddhattha Gotama [Skt. Siddhartha Gautama] … Already on the path to Buddhahood, the bodhisatta (Skt. Bodhisattva) in these stories exhibits many of the qualities of a Buddha, most notably a selfless desire to serve others regardless of the consequences for himself … Mahayana Buddhism … seized upon the concept of the bodhisattva as one of its most important spiritual ideals. Followers of Mahayana Buddhism are expected to take and repeatedly reiterate the ‘bodhisattva vow’, a promise to dedicate one’s life to the welfare of other beings and to forgo final realisation of nirvana until all beings have been led to release. In essence, the bodhisattva vow replaces nirvana, the supreme goal of Theravada Buddhism, with the supreme goal of Mahayana Buddhism: Buddhahood [Reat, Buddhism: A History at 50-51].”

The Lotus Sutra

Bodhisattva of compassion, Avalolitesvara, holding a white lotus,
Ajanta Caves mural, west central India, 5th century CE or earlier.
Source: travel-maharashtra-sanjuu.blogspot.com

Recently I have become increasingly fascinated with the Lotus Sutra. When I first encountered it, it felt like a revelation. I read book IV, within which there is a parable about a rich man with a poor son. The son believes he is unworthy of prosperity, and so slowly the rich man uses skillful means to ensure the son accepts the wealth that is his birthright; wealth being a metaphor for Buddhahood. I responded powerfully to this story because it reflected where I was and have been for years – an admirer of Buddhism but more or less convinced that I am incapable of taking up this seemingly long, difficult and austere path. The key message of the Lotus Sutra is that enlightenment is within the reach of us all and Buddhist realisation is ultimately not for the few but the many, whether man or woman, renunciate or lay-person, human or non-human. This profoundly validating message lies at the core of the Lotus Sutra.

Historical context

Scholars agree that a significant portion of the Lotus Sutra represents the earliest Mahayana teachings to have been committed to writing. Coincidentally it was also the first Buddhist Sutra to be translated into a European language (in 1852 it was translated from Sanskrit into French by Orientalist Eugene Burnouf). It was originally written in either Sanskrit or, more likely, in Prakit, a related though more humble Indian dialect, perhaps around the time of the birth of Christ, circa 500 years after the lifetime of the Buddha. Although the earliest date we can give the Sutra with any certainty is 255 CE, when the first Chinese translation was made – the original Lotus Sutra has long been lost. The earliest Sanskrit copies we have date from the 5th or 6th centuries, though several Sanskrit copies, some made as recently as the 11th century or possibly later (when Mahayana Buddhism in south Asia entered a period of severe decline, following Muslim persecution and subsequent absorption into Hinduism), have been discovered in Nepal, Gilgit (north Pakistan) and Xinjiang (NW China). Its name in Sanskrit is the Saddharma Pundarika. Saddharma means something like doctrine, truth or good law. Pundarika has a wide range of meanings including white lotus flower. Note that during the lifetime of the Buddha India was not a very literate society – instead of recording the Buddha’s teachings in writing the first Buddhists committed his teachings to memory. The Lotus Sutra is said to be what was originally a secret teaching given by the Gautama Buddha at the end of his life. The Sutra is widely accepted as authentic amongst contemporary Mahayana Buddhists (over half of the world’s Buddhists are Mahayana), but is disregarded by Theravada Buddhists, which is unsurprising, given that it is a foundational Mahayana Sutra.

Schools of Buddhism

Source: buddhanet.net/e-learning/buddhistworld

I have been studying and practicing Buddhism on and off since my teenage years. As a child one of my family members was interested in Vajrayana (Kagyu) Buddhism and so inevitably I was exposed to this form of Buddhism first. Later, when I was in my mid to late 20s I became quite devout for a number of years but found myself most drawn to Theravada Buddhism. Subsequently I developed a renewed interest in Vajrayana Buddhism and explored the Gelugpa and then Nyingma schools within the Vajrayana tradition but stopped a couple of years ago – somehow Vajrayana Buddhism just didn’t seem to be quite working out for me, despite my continuing respect for its teachings. In recent years I have developed an interest in Nichiren Buddhism, a Mahayana lineage from Japan. In an attempt to make sense of these many paths I want to try to summarise the core teachings of Buddhism, as recognised by a number of the most prominent schools, and then look a little at the different practices associated with various lineages. What I am hoping to find is that despite the different styles of Buddhism that have developed in different parts of the world there is nonetheless an identifiably common thread that runs through them all.

Freyja – Love Goddess

"A Blonde Beauty" by Styka 

The usual starting place, when looking to the written sources on Germanic Gods, is Snorri Sturluson – an Icelandic Christian who wrote the Prose Edda, the most extensive resource we have on Norse mythology. Of Freyja he writes:

“Njord [a Vanir fertility God associated with the sea] … had two children. The son was called Frey and the daughter Freyja. They were beautiful and powerful … Freyja is the most splendid of the Goddesses. She has a home in heaven called Folkvangar [Warriors’ Field]. Wherever she rides into battle, half the slain belong to her. Odin takes the other half … Her hall, Sessrumnir (With Many Seats], is large and beautiful. When she travels, she drives a chariot drawn by two cats. She is easily approachable for people who want to pray to her,  and from her name comes the title of honour whereby women of rank are called frovur [the Scandinavian Fru and German frau are derived from Freyja’s name] … She delights in love songs, and it is good to call on her in matters of love … 

Freyja, along with Frigg, is the most noble. She married the man called Od. Their daughter, Hnoss, is so beautiful that from her name comes the word for a treasure that is exceptionally handsome and valuable. Od went travelling on distant paths, while Freyja remained behind, crying tears of red gold. Freyja has many names, because she gave herself different names as she travelled among unknown peoples searching for Od. She is called Mardoll and Horn and Gefn and Syr. Freyja owned Brisingamen [a famous necklace]. She is called the Goddess of the Vanir [Vanir Gods tend to be associated with fertility in the land and sea] ...  

[After his involvement with the disappearance of the Goddess Idunn, Loki] said he would go into Giant Land to find Idunn if Freyja would lend him her falcon shape ...  

How should Freyja be referred to? By calling her the daughter of Njord, the sister of Frey, the wife of Od, the mother of Hnoss, the possessor of the fallen in battle, of the hall Sessumnir, of male cats and of the ring of the Brisings, the God of the Vanir, the household deity of the Vanir and the God whose weeping is beautiful [Sturluson, Prose Edda, Penguin Classics at 35, 42-43, 82 and 111].”

Janus – Gateway God

18th century herm of Janus. Source: hadrian6.tumblr.com

Janus is the God of the doorway and the gateway. He is the holder of the keys to auspicious beginnings and provides access to the divine. He is invariably depicted as the perceptive two-headed God, looking backwards and forwards, both into and outside the home, both eastwards and westwards, and from a state of lawless savagery towards peaceful civilisation. He is a God strongly associated with social order and harmony; he “is said to have lifted human life out of its bestial and savage state. For this reason he is represented with two faces, implying that he brought men's lives out of one sort of condition into another” (Plutarch). He is thus a God of transitions and a God of high importance in the Roman tradition; a fact well demonstrated by the custom of making the first ritual offering to Janus. Cicero cites the reason as follows:

“In all matters, beginnings and ends are the vital features. This is why they cite Janus first in sacrifices, for his name is derived from the verb ire, to go; hence the word iani for archways, and ianuae for the gates of secular buildings [Cicero, The Nature of the Gods at 71].”

Tutelary Gods of Sydney

"Sydney" by vampiresaredifferent.deviantart.com

The founding of Sydney by Europeans theoretically began on the 26th of January 1788 when a flag was first flown on Sydney’s shore, courtesy of a small number of British officers who had disembarked from the first fleet; it took up to eleven days for the remainder of the men to make their way to shore, at which point the women arrived:

“On February 6 their disembarkation began … Those who had decent clothes had put on all their finery … The last of them landed by six in the evening … as dusk fell the weather burst. Tents blew away; within minutes the whole encampment was a rain-lashed bog. The women floundered to and fro … pursued by male convicts … One lightning bolt split a tree in the middle of the camp and killed several sheep and a pig beneath it. Meanwhile … sailors … asked for an extra ration of rum ‘to make merry with upon the women quitting the ship.’ … Bowes [a doctor who travelled with the first fleet] remarked, ‘it is beyond my abilities to give a just description of the scene of debauchery and riot that ensued during the night.’ … with ‘some swearing, others quarrelling, others singing – not in the least regarding the tempest, tho’ so violent that the thunder shook the ship exceeding anything I ever before had a conception of’ [Hughes, The Fatal Shore, Random House at 89].”

This event marked the true date upon which Sydney was founded and the circumstances were both dramatic and remarkable – it is as if Jupiter took an offering of “several sheep and a pig” for himself by the action of his lightning, while the settlers drank and f—ked in a wild Bacchanalian rite as the storm roared around them.

Speaking Out - Sexual Assault and Cultural Predispositions

Today it has emerged that a large number of sexual assaults took place during NYE celebrations in Cologne by around "1,000 drunk and aggressive young men ... of Arab or North African appearance". One particular story to emerge from this series of incidences is as follows: 

One man described how his partner and 15-year-old daughter were surrounded by an enormous crowd outside the station and he was unable to help. "The attackers grabbed her and my partner's breasts and groped them between their legs" [www.bbc.com/news].

The first time I was ever sexually assaulted was by north Africans

I feel keenly for this 15 year old girl because when I was the same age I was also assaulted by a group of males in central Cairo - although it was clear what was happening (running up to me in an almost childish game and trying to grab at my genital region), not one local Egyptian came to my aid. During the same trip I was also groped on the genitals by an old man while he spoke to my mother - I was too stunned to say anything at the time but I was so distressed afterwards that my mother cut short our trip (and so I never got to see Alexandria). These two incidences constitute the first time a man ever touched me intimately - not ideal. A year later I got talking to a German exchange student at my school and she told me she had had a similar experience when she went to Egypt.

A barrier between men and women is created after a large number of women were sexually assaulted during protests in Cairo
Source: www.theguardian.com/world/2013/jul/09/sexual-violence-egypt-target-woman