Ancient Germanic Tattoos and Cannabis Use

Comic book illustration by Kresse (1953)

I am reading the fifth book in the Warrior of Rome series by Harry Sidebottom, called The Wolves of the North. As well as being a novelist, Sidebottom is a Fellow and Tutor in Ancient History at the University of Oxford. His intimacy with ancient history means that he is often able to bring the ancient world to life, and what I have been reading about recently is particularly intriguing. He is describing the Heruli – an ancient Germanic tribe who are depicted as, inter alia, tattooed inhalers of cannabis. How much truth is there likely to be in this portrayal? Well, it seems to be quite feasible. 

Describing the Heruli ("utterly abandoned rascals")

Briefly put, the Heruli were one of a number of Germanic tribes who became a problem for Rome from the 3rd century onwards. Originally from Scandinavia, by the mid 3rd century they were living in the general area of modern day Ukraine. From there they spread themselves in a number of directions, sometimes successfully and sometimes not.

Odin – God of the Fearless

"Winter" by Wyeth (1909)

Most of what we know about Odin, and other Germanic Gods, comes from Icelandic manuscripts written roughly 200 years or more after Iceland formally adopted Christianity (though much of this material appears to copy works written hundreds of years earlier). Perhaps one of best descriptions of Odin comes from the Hyndluljod:

“Let's ask the Host-father [Odin] to sit in good cheer; he grants and gives out gold to the worthy ... He gives victory to some, to some wealth, eloquence to many, and sense to men; a fair wind he gives to sailors, and fine words to skalds; he gives manliness to many a fighter.”

Another of the Icelandic poems, the Havamal, is said to record the words of Odin. From this, perhaps the most haunting passage is the following:

“Wounded I hung on a wind-swept tree. For nine long nights, pierced by a spear, pledged to Odin. Offered, myself to myself. The wisest know not from whence spring the roots of that ancient tree. They gave me no bread, they gave me no mead, I looked down; with a loud cry, I took up runes; from that tree I fell.”

This is a tale of shamanism that hints at a means of acquiring sacred knowledge that has been lost but can be found. On a purely functional level it also establishes Odin as the father of the written word, and thereby the protector of knowledge. Thus he is known as the Fjölnir (wise one, all-knowing or concealer), Fjölsviðr (very wise one) and Saðr (truthful).* Another story that emphasises this aspect of Odin is told in the Prose Edda:

Roman Beliefs Regarding the Afterlife

"Nymphs Finding the Head of Orpheus"
by Waterhouse (1900)

February is the month when ancient Romans traditionally honoured their dead, during the festival of the Parentalia, and this got me thinking about Roman attitudes to the afterlife. Roman polytheism does not provide clear-cut answers about the much pondered question of whether or not there is life after death:

“Traditional Pagan culture offered all kinds of views of death and the after-life: ranging from a terrifying series of punishment for those who had sinned in this life, through a more or less pleasant state of being that followed but was secondary to this life, to uncertainty or denial that that any form of after-life was possible (or knowable) … the official state cult did not particularly emphasise the fate of the individual after death, or urge a particular view of the after-life [Beard et al, Religions of Rome 1 at 289-290].”

Traditional views – realms of the dead

The conventional view of life after death in ancient Rome conceived of an afterlife wherein the soul separated from the body and then typically lived on in the underworld kingdom of Orcus (Dis Pater/Pluto). Sometimes the spirits of the dead might return to the world of the living, as either Manes (protecting spirits of the dead) or Lemures (malevolent spirits of the dead). Over time, Roman ideas about the afterlife came to be strongly influenced by Hellenic visions, which were themselves not always uniform. The features most commonly ascribed to the afterlife included descriptions of Hades being surrounded by various rivers, including the rivers Styx, Acheron and Lethe. From this latter river the dead drank the waters so to forget their former lives. Meanwhile they crossed the river Styx by paying Charon the ferryman – thus the dead customarily had a coin placed in their mouths or their hands lest their souls be stranded in limbo. Upon crossing to the other side of the river they were confronted by Cerberus, the three-headed dog, who prevented unauthorised souls from entering or leaving Hades. Once within Hades, the earthly behaviour of the dead was judged by Minos, Rhadamanthys and Aecus, to determine their fate in the next life. War heroes went to the paradisiacal Elysium, as did, by some accounts, the virtuous. Those guilty of hubris or other behaviour deemed particularly offensive to the Gods might find themselves in Tartarus: a place of divine punishment apparently inhabited by only the most unfortunate of criminals. Meanwhile most of the dead were thought to dwell on in the Asphodel fields, which was neither particularly pleasant nor unpleasant.

Alma-Tadema - Roman Visions

Victorian Britain (1837-1901) was more than a little obsessed with the Roman era - from their Queen, who was named after the Roman Goddess of Victory, to the expanding British empire which bore similarities to that of Rome's, to the copious number of Romanesque artworks produced in the United Kingdom during that time. Of all the painters dealing with Roman themes none was more popular than Dutch-born Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema (1836-1912) - a prolific painter who specialised in depicting (somewhat romanticised) scenes of everyday life in the classical world. While some of his work seems a little kitsch these days, some of it is wonderfully evocative and brings the ancient world to life. In homage to this true Romanophile, here follows some of my favourite Roman-themed works by Alma-Tadema.

Click on image to enlarge

The decorative marble floor and brightly painted wall in the image below is typical of ancient Roman architecture - but only the wealthy (and their slaves) lived in homes like this. In Rome itself most people lived in apartments. As we can see the sea in the background, Alma-Tadema perhaps intended to depict a villa in a wealthy seaside town, such as Herculaneum (destroyed by the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in 79 CE).

"An Oleander" (1882)

Roman Calendar

"Sacrifice to Jupiter" by Noel Coypel (17th century)

Living in Sydney, where the seasonal calendar is the reverse of that of Rome’s (so that when it is winter in Rome it is summer in Sydney and vice versa), I have tended to not pay too much attention to the traditional polytheistic calendar of ancient Rome – for so many ancient celebrations were related to the seasonal cycles of Europe. I am also mindful of the fact that many ancient festivals celebrated the founding of temples that have long since fallen into ruin – if the temple no longer exists then celebrating its coming into being seems somewhat incongruous.  And then there is the fact that I don’t know too many Roman oriented polytheists – so with whom do I celebrate these festivals? 

Turning aside from contemporary concerns, I note that even when Rome’s empire was at her height there was no such thing as a universal Roman calendar of religious festivals, for each region of the empire established their own calendar, which did not necessarily mirror the calendar in Rome (Scheid, An Introduction to Roman Religion at 41-42). Furthermore, the religious calendars varied from century to century, so not only were they not uniform from region to region, they were not uniform from century to century either. 

The Invincible Sun – Sol Invictus

Christmas day (aka Dies Natalis Solis Invicti*) is getting closer and so I thought I would pay tribute to Sol Invictus, the Invincible Sun, sometimes thought to be the same as, or at least related to, radiant Apollo – one of the most revered Gods within the Roman pantheon. While the veneration of the Sun (Sol) is certainly a genuinely ancient Roman practice, the cult of Sol Invictus was a latecomer to the classical world and did not achieve widespread appeal until the third century CE, when it received imperial patronage. Beard et al describe the cult of Sol Invictus in ancient Rome thus:

“In AD 274 the emperor Aurelian dedicated a great temple to the Sun (Sol) which was famed in antiquity for the richness of the offerings and dedications it contained … The cult of the Sun can have clear associations with eastern religions: the full title of the God Elagabalus was, in fact, Sol Invictus Elagabalus – Invincible Sun Elagabalus; and here it is often assumed that the particular form of the cult derived from the cult of Ba’al at Palmyra in Syria, after Aurelian’s successful campaign there … At the same time, however, its significance had Roman roots too. So, for example, a regular sacrifice to Sol is marked on 9 August of several Augustan calendars; and there had been a longstanding identification in both the Greek and Roman worlds of the God Apollo with Sol (or Greek Helios) … Besides, the imagery of the God – at least on the few contemporary coins on which it is shown – is strongly Graeco-Roman, rather than oriental (contrast the explicit eastern imagery attached to Elagabalus’ cult) and the priesthood founded to serve the cult was given the very Roman title of ‘pontifices of the Sun’ [M Beard et al, Religions of Rome: Volume 1 at 259].”

A number of Roman emperors are known to have particularly revered the Sun. The rising popularity of the cult coincided with a decline in that of the imperial cult and it is possible that some members of the third and fourth century Roman elite may have aspired for it to become a sort of “universal solar cult consecrating the religious unity of the Roman world”: R Turcan, The Gods of Ancient Rome at 142. It is also arguable that the cult of the Sun was, for some Romans at least, quasi-monotheistic – Macrobius portrays one of the leading Pagans of the fourth century, Praetextatus, as stating that "the supreme God, of whom all the others are aspects, is the Sun": cited in J Rüpke, A Companion to Roman Religion at 114.** However, the cult of the Sun was still very much a polytheistic phenomenon, as Rüpke explains in his summation of the rise of Sol Invictus in ancient Rome:

“… in the years after [Emperor] Gallienus’ death in 267, a series of strong and efficient emperors managed to stabilise the Roman empire … Foremost among them was Aurelian. Much more than his predecessors he laid emphasis on the fact that a God had invested him as emperor. After his victory over Palmyra in the summer of 273 he established the cult of Sol Invictus (Invincible Sun) in Rome. The God received his own magnificent temple, the templum Solis, and the priesthoods were restructured in order to give the priestly college of Sol a special rank … This cult had an air of monotheism, insofar as there was a central God, but it did not exclude the veneration of other Gods. It was new, but remained within the framework of traditional religious practice and could happily co-exist with the older cults … the worship of Sol was one of the key cults in the fourth century … The [polytheistic] emperor Julian (361-3 CE) ... was especially devoted to the Sun and viewed him as the supreme God … [J Rüpke, A Companion to Roman Religion at 102-114]”.

I discuss the rituals we might engage in for a solar oriented Christmas in more depth in my post A Pagan Christmas in High Summer.*** In the meantime I have put together this visual tribute to the Invincible Sun – may he look favourably upon us.

Taken from the Roman Forum, part of Saturn's temple on right. Source: romanpagan.blogspot.com

Io Saturnalia!

Saturnalia falls on 17 December (and can be celebrated up to the 23rd*) and I can feel the fever coming on. Almost instinctively, most Westerners know how to celebrate it - probably because many of its customs were incorporated into the celebration of Christmas. Traditionally it is a festival held in honour of Saturn, who is associated with agricultural bounteousness and a mythological golden age of plenty. More generally it is a time of merry making, disrupting established rules and hierarchies (eg, by reversing social roles - in my home we role swap on Saturnalia; I usually pretend to be the cat), game playing (dice was most popular in ancient times), parties, feasting, drinking, relaxation and gift giving.** I wanted to find some good Saturnalian images to help bring the mood on. Here follows some of my favourites (which I couldn't resist annotating:):

Etruscan dancers from the tomb of the Triclinium in the Necropolis of Monterozzi, c. 470 BCE

 Pompeii banquet scene from the Casa dei Casti Amanti, 1st century CE

Temple of Saturn, Roman Forum. Source: romanpagan.blogspot.com

"Happy Arcadia" by Makovsky, circa 1890

"A Roman Dance" by Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema, 19th century CE

Illustration by Norman Lindsay (1922), of the Satyricon

"Roman Feast" by Tancredi Scarpelli, early 20th century CE

"Allegorical Scene" by Makovsky, late 19th century CE

"Saturnus" by Polidoro da Caravaggio, 16th century CE

A note on offerings - as we have no temples of Saturn in which to make offerings there is no hard and fast rule as to how to honour Saturn appropriately during Saturnalia, except to say that it is not necessary to cover one's head during ritual offerings. Getting in the festive spirit is surely one of the best ways to honour Saturn. As to the nature of ritual offerings, Saturn is an agricultural God so agricultural offerings (such as olive oil) may be especially appropriate. Macrobius suggested that Saturn may have once looked favourably upon human sacrifice therefore human proxies, such as gingerbread men, may be especially suitable offerings (note that actual human sacrifice is definitely not a feature of the Roman way to the Gods). In my household I light a beautiful Christmas candle in Saturn's honour on a large plate or tray on my balcony (as a kind of temporary shrine) and then place shortbread men on the plate/tray before the candle. However, I'm sure there are many other valid ways to honour Saturn during Saturnalia.

* Thus Saturnalia kicks off on the 17th and may continue for a week until 23 December.
**Beard et al, Religions of Rome: Volume 2 at 124-126.

Written by M' Sentia Figula (aka Freki), find me at neo polytheist and romanpagan.wordpress.com

Menstruation and Ritual Purity

"Circe" by J Waterhouse (1911)

Lately I have been thinking about the question of menstrual blood and ritual purity. Menstrual taboos are most notably associated with conservative Judaism and Islam, but they also occur in fellow Indo-European religions in the east, such as Hinduism, Zoroastrianism and the indigenous religion of the Kalash. Meanwhile in the west, if social media is anything to go by, a number of polytheists seeking to reconstruct the indigenous religions of Europe (including the Religio Romana) also advocate menstrual taboos – the general idea is that menstruating women should not perform ritual offerings (or enter temples) to the Gods because they are ritually unclean while they are menstruating. In light of all of this, and because I like to think I am genuinely open minded, I considered the possibility that there might be something to this apparently very ancient and widespread taboo.

Nine Problems with Christianity

Note: if you believe that Abraham, Moses, etc were prophets of the one true God I respectfully ask that you do not read the following post.

"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 Christian 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.

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]?'