Olga the Varangian

A Varangian reenactment in 2019. Image source: Silar

In the 10th century Olga was married to Igor, Prince of the Rus, who at this time were Pagan. The origin of the Rus is disputed, though the most widely accepted view is that the Rus rulers were originally Scandinavians (mostly from eastern Sweden), also known as Varangians, who came to rule over Slavs in what is now NW Russia, and then over generations interbred and assimilated so as to became fully Slavic. The first Rus ruler, in the 9th century CE, was Prince Rurik, who was succeeded by his kinsman Oleg, who conquered Kiev in 882 CE, as well as much other territory. Oleg attacked Constantinople in 907, forcing the Byzantines to sue for peace in exchange for payment of a large sum. In 911 Oleg negotiated a favourable trade agreement with Constantinople, but died shortly after.

Oleg was succeeded by Igor in 912, who expanded Rus rule over the Pechenegs (a Turkic people) and the Drevlians (a Slavic people), and led expeditions against the Byzantines in the 940s, which failed due to the destruction of his ships by legendary “Greek fire”. Olga gave birth to Igor’s son Sviatoslav around this time. Igor was murdered by the Drevlians in 945, while collecting tribute. At this time Sviatoslav, Igor’s heir, was very young.

My Christian Larp

A sculpture outside St James' King Street, Sydney

In 2024 I developed an interest in Christianity (which I wrote about here). I read the Gospels three times. I read the rest of the New Testament once. I listened to a bunch of podcasts. I studied a bunch of websites. I read a couple of books. I bought some icons (of St Mary and St Olga) and tried praying in front of them. By 2025, after visiting a bunch of Orthodox churches and finding each of them focused strongly on specific cultural groups (Russian, Greek, Assyrian, etc), I developed the view that I should look into Anglo-Catholicism, which is a movement within the Anglican communion which emphasises a return to catholic practices and theology sans the Pope. The main draw card was ethno-cultural. It seemed to me that most churches revolve around ethnic identity so Anglicanism looked like a good fit. The experiment didn’t go well and perhaps I really should have known better, not least because when my interest in Anglo-Catholicism started I had a highly unusual dream wherein the Virgin Mary spoke to me and she said just one thing: “the Anglican church is a desert”.

Visiting Anglo-Catholic Churches in Sydney

Sydney has half a dozen or so churches that align with Anglo-Catholicism (at least that is my understanding). I visited most of them and my experiences were as follows:

The Logos According to the Gospels

A page from a medieval Bible: Johnbod

Until not long ago I thought I knew Christianity and had thoughtfully rejected it, then my podcast addiction led me to bump into information that suggested I knew nothing but shadows on a wall when it came to this important and complex religion. Because I regard myself as a truth seeker, and truly open-minded, for some months now I have been trying to unlearn my prior suppositions and learn what this religion actually is. An obvious starting point is the Gospels. I have relied on two translations, one is the New King James Version (NKJV) and the other is the Eastern Orthodox Bible (EOB). They are each translated from slightly different original manuscripts – the NKJV mostly derives from Greek manuscripts that were available in north-western Europe in the early 16th century, whereas the EOB is translated from different Greek manuscripts held in libraries in south-eastern Europe. In this post all of the quotes are from the text of the EOB.

The transitory world of men versus eternal life

A prominent theme in the Gospels is the juxtaposition between the everchanging worldly realm of men, of which death is an aspect, and that of God’s (Matt 16:23), which is associated with eternal life. The earthly realm is transitory (Luke 21:33), full of many distractions that are both pleasurable and unpleasurable (Luke 21:34), and it contains much evil (John 7:7). Whereas the realm of God has “many mansions” (John 14:2) but it “is not of this world” (John 18:36), even though it “is within you”, but it cannot be seen (Luke 17:21). Jesus explains (after exorcising a man) that it “is by the spirit of God that I cast out demons, then the kingdom of God has come upon you” (Matt 12:28), which suggests the kingdom is a state of being that can be experienced in this life. This experience starts as something small (like a mustard seed) but if the seed grows within the fertile soil of a human heart it (allegorically) “becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air can come and find shelter in its branches” (Matt 13:32).

Note that “kingdom of God” is not a literal translation from the original Greek. According to the EOB a more literal translation is “rule of God”, “ruling power of God” or “reign of God” (at xvi). This connotes an experience of God’s power, whereas “kingdom” is more suggestive of a physical place that is elsewhere.

Ancient Roman Christians

Christian beliefs and practices in the 2nd and 3rd centuries

Icon of Mary, Rome (6th century or earlier)
Image source: Asia

Given that I have a good understanding of the religious landscape in ancient Rome it seems fitting to look at Christianity during this era. Many contemporary analyses of this kind focuses heavily on the New Testament, with a particular focus on 1st century Christians. As there is nothing I can add to the discussion on 1st century Christians I am instead starting in the 2nd century, with a focus on this nascent religion as it was before it became a major political force in the 4th century CE.

“Within a short time after Christ’s death [certainly by the 2nd century], Christianity became identified as a cult quite separate and distinct from Judaism. Non-Jewish converts often brought to the new cult ideas and rhetoric from their former religions or philosophies [especially Stoicism and Neo-Platonism] … Christianity … was a cult that attracted large numbers of lower-class people and encouraged them to participate in … emotionalism ... [and] private assembly ... [Shelton at 407-409]”

In the early 2nd century a Roman governor wrote to Trajan (ruled 98-117 CE) about the measures he was taking in relation to adherents of the new religion:

Protestant Christianity Versus Christianity

Destruction of "Idols" by Protestants (1524)

I have found myself in an awkward spiritual spot. Years ago I thoughtfully rejected Christianity – I even wrote a blogpost in 2013 about my reasons why. But lately a trinity of events have occurred such that I feel compelled to reconsider my position.

First, a good friend persuaded me to look at a particular window at St Mary’s Cathedral (Sydney) for the aesthetics. It showed Mary on a crescent moon with a halo of stars. It was beautiful and as I looked at it I had a strange sense of a medieval and mystical version of Christianity, and a thought “what a shame this type of Christianity no longer exists”.

Second, my approach to religion subtly shifted over a period of many months until I arrived at a position where I was starting to think maybe God exists in some great cosmic sense, and that the Gohonzon (the sacred mandala of Nichiren Buddhism, which I have been venerating for a number of years) is a portrait of God, and that (at least some of) the benevolent Gods might be God’s helpers.

Third, I listened to a podcast on Martin Luther and had a thunderstruck moment when I realised that the religion I had so thoughtfully rejected a long time ago was perhaps not Christianity but something rather more specific – Protestant Christianity, which is quite honestly just the predominant Germanic take on Christianity from the early modern period onwards. In my mind Protestantism was Christianity and vice versa, simply because I didn’t know any other type. The Christianity I thought I knew was rather uninteresting and uninspiring so it never occurred to me to explore any variations of it. Nearly 500 years of Protestant ancestry had taught me to look somewhat askance at Roman Catholicism, thus I tended to avoid it. My very limited encounters with Orthodox Christianity suggested it was a religion inextricably tied up with ethnic and cultural identities that had nothing to do with me, so I never thought about it, other than to admire the aesthetic. I did not even know there was a church further to the east than Lebanon until a few months ago, such was my general disinterest in Christianity.

The notions I had thought were synonymous with Christianity but are actually features of Protestantism (mostly inspired by Martin Luther and then John Calvin) include:

The Priests Are in Charge and It Feels Dystopian

"Abbot Armand-Jean le Bouthillier de Rance"
by Hyacinthe Rigaud (17th century)

Earlier this month every Australian was required to fill in the 4 year census. When it came to answering the question in relation to religion the form displays “no religion” as the first choice, because “no religion” was the single most popular answer to this question in the last census – 30.1% of Australians giving this answer in 2016 (followed by Catholic at 22.6% and Anglican at 13.3%; all other religions were at less than 4% each). In theory Australia is a fairly irreligious nation, but in practice the quasi-religion of Scientism is wildly popular. 

Science is the “the systematic study of ... the physical and natural world through observation and experiment” (Oxford Dictionary) – it is a method by which hypotheses can be either plausibly dreamt up or validated. Scientism is an “excessive belief in the power of scientific knowledge” (Oxford), and there now seems to be a large body of people professing to hold such sacred knowledge. They are our “experts” (typically scientists and doctors of one kind or another) who are more than willing to present themselves as the true holders of the only kind of knowledge worth having any faith in. The worst among them are the de facto astrologers and haruspices of our time – these priests of our secular age who tell us they know how to confidently predict, via the magic of modelling, variable and unpredictable things, such as controlling the spread of a highly contagious virus. 

Western Mourning Traditions – After the Funeral

"Love's Melancholy" by Meyer (1866)

In secular times such as ours the rites of mourning have become somewhat vague. Generally speaking, there is a notion that one wears black for a period of time – though no one really expects black to be worn at any time other than at the funeral – and sometimes a group of people may wear black armbands for a certain period, such as a football team at a sports event. There is also a half-remembered tradition that widows should wait for a year before becoming romantically involved with someone new. In the last few decades a new quasi-tradition has arisen whereby the bereaved are encouraged to book some sessions with a grief counsellor or psychologist. Beyond these things it is hard to pin down Western mourning traditions, even Debrett’s fails to say much on the matter, advising of little more than the intricacies of funeral arrangements while acknowledging:

“It is only in our increasingly secular times, when death has become something to be ignored, avoided and indeed feared, that these most final and utterly inevitable rites of passage are often, quite wrongly, skimped on [Morgan, Debrett’s New Guide to Etiquette and Modern Manners at 96].”

The truth of the matter is that we are mostly left to invent our own way of mourning. Society at large, as fragmented as it is, will expect little from us once the funeral is over. The insensitive will hope that we will simply move on and adapt to the new normal as quickly as possible – the grief of others and the reality of death is simply too awkward to deal with. Those who care will probably encourage us to do “whatever feels right” and treat us gently (unless they are overwhelmed by their own grief). Those who mourn are often left grasping onto thin air, with few known traditions to fall back on – at such times looking at historic traditions may give the bereaved something to work with.

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.

The Problem with Mythology

"The Rape of Europa" by Reni (1639)

We should probably be cautious when we read myths – too many of them are the spun out creation of storytellers that risk reducing the Gods to characters in a fairy tale. The great, divine and essential nature of the Gods may thus be obscured. It may to wise to be mindful that the popularity of some myths in the ancient world may have contributed to the decline of polytheism – and may also impede contemporary comprehension of the Gods. Christian writers of the Roman era, such as Justin Martyr, Tertullian and Minucius Felix, invoked Greco-Roman myths to mock the Gods, and therefore belief in them. The Christian poet Prudentius went so far as to write “depart adulterous Jupiter, defiled with sex with your sister” (cited in Beard 2 at 361). If we were to accept myths at face value then the early Christian fathers could be occasionally convincing, in terms of eroding our belief in the Gods. If we understand that myths may be beautiful and instructive in some way (sometimes acting as a gateway to sacred knowledge, for deep truths may be embedded within, as may be the case for many of the stories that we think of as no more than fairy tales: bbc.com), but that they should always be treated with caution and never treated as somehow equivalent to religious scripture, then we get closer to the truth.

Nine Problems with Christianity

"Dante and Virgil in Hell" (1850) by W Bouguereau 

In my life I find that Christians are everywhere, especially within my extended family. Though I am not a big fan of belittling other belief systems, because the ways to the truth are many, I have had to really think about and be able to articulate why I don't accept their faith – because I am pretty sure I am not the only one who has had to fend off well-meaning evangelists, I thought I would share some of these reasons:

I. Fear (of hell) lies at the core of Christianity I watched my mother die a protracted death (cancer) and witnessed for myself the way her fear of hell (she was not a Christian, but had been raised in a very devout Lutheran home) needlessly poisoned her final months – I could never wish to be part of a religion that inspires such a morbid dread of the afterlife.

Thoughts in 2025: this is a critique of Protestant Christianity, which does not allow for purgatory (Catholicism) or toll houses (Orthodoxy). Luther's teachings on hell are indeed vile (ie, anyone who does not go to heaven experiences 'eternal endless torment'), but they are probably wrong, or only partly right (if they are right at all). I think it likely that Luther was in fact a heretic, for his teachings have pushed people away from God. All of the original nations that once embraced his teachings (German states, Scandinavia, etc) have become overwhelmingly secularised. 

II. I cannot believe that God, as understood by Christians, is real If the Christian God is so powerful why do horrible things happen again and again and again? To my mind there are only two plausible answers to this question: either because he does not exist in the manner that Christians claim he exists (ie, he may exist but is not nearly as powerful as Christians say; this view is the one I tend to adopt) or he does exist as Christians claim but allows awful things to happen because he is cold and mean and is therefore not worthy of reverence. Cicero put the argument more eloquently:

'Either God wishes to remove evils and cannot, or he can do so and is unwilling, or he has neither the will nor the power, or he has both the will and the power. If he has the will but not the power he is a weakling, and this is not characteristic of God. If he has the power but not the will, he is grudging, and this is a trait equally foreign to God. If he has neither the will nor the power, he is both grudging and weak, and is therefore not divine. If he has both the will and the power (and this is the sole circumstance appropriate to God), what is the source of evils, or why does God not dispel them [Cicero, The Nature of the Gods, 3.65]?'

Julian the Apostate – Pagan Hero?

Bust of Julian (4th century): St Petersburg

When I first heard about Julian the apostate (also known as Julian the philosopher) – the last polytheistic emperor of Rome, who attempted to reinvigorate the old ways throughout the Roman Empire after decades of Christian rule – I was naturally pretty interested. My initial impression was that he must of been amongst the last of the old school Romans bravely trying to push back the tide of Christianity. As I have learned more about him, and his times, I have come to realise that this was a naïve and self-serving perspective. I know now that Julian the apostate was an infinitely more complex character than I could have ever imagined and perhaps, ultimately, an unknowable one at that.

The first thing to know about Julian the apostate is that he was indeed a Christian apostate – he was not brought up as a Pagan. He was raised as a Christian. From the age of seven he was under the guardianship of the Bishop of Nicomedia (having been orphaned by his murderous cousin, the emperor Constantius II) and he later became a lector of the Christian church. It is known that he had a detailed knowledge of Christian teachings and it is thus an inevitable conclusion that Julian’s world views were profoundly influenced by his Christian education. The monotheism that earmarks Christian teachings appeared to have stayed with him, to some extent, as he drew ever more interest in classical philosophy and Hellenic polytheism.

The Roman Structure Within Faversham Stone Chapel

Roman brickwork within Faversham Stone Chapel

In a field in Kent the ruins of an ancient building of uncertain origin lies. It is called Faversham Stone Chapel, or alternately Stone-next-Faversham, and was known as the Church of Our Lady of Elverton – or Our Lady of Elwarton – from the 7th century until the 16th century, when it was abandoned after falling into a state of disrepair. The building was not, however, forgotten. From the 18th century onwards it became the occasional subject of archeological interest because it was clear that this was no ordinary church for, as Hasted pointed out in 1798, within the ruins of the Stone Chapel there are: