Syncretism and Shinto: A Short Examination

Syncretism is something that is not restricted to any single culture, time period, or religious viewpoint: every religion syncretizes, or has syncretized, in their long histories. Often, when we are examining how syncretism works within our own modern polytheist traditions, it is good to look at the examples of religious cultures that are still active and thriving to see how they handle certain issues. One such example came to prominent light in my own life recently, as I alluded to here, and this column will explore it further.

For most Western peoples, whether secular or specifically spiritual, the new year has begun. From the viewpoint of traditional Chinese and Japanese cultures, however, we’re in the liminal period leading up to it at present. My last column was somewhat focused upon the end-of-year celebrations we often see in Western polytheistic contexts, many of them focusing on the rebirth and return of light and the deities associated with light or the sun. Such a myth of the sun’s disappearance and return (whether over the course of a year and solstice-focused or more of an allegorization of solar eclipses being equally possible and non-exclusive options for one’s own interpretation) does exist in traditional Japanese Shinto in terms of the solar goddess Amaterasu-Omikami, but the end-of-year and new year festivals of the Shinto tradition do not focus on the figure of this particular kami or any of the others, they instead focus on various acts of purification, which is a basic focus and theme throughout all of Shinto’s ceremonies.

Perhaps some of you saw, in the 1990s, the common e-mail forward which listed different world religions, and described each of them in terms of the phrase “shit happens.” Shinto itself tops the version of that list I was most familiar with, and was expressed by stating, simply, “Shit happens.” It took me many years to see how this was at all applicable to the religion–and, whether one likes it or not, it is! There are many concepts within Shinto that are closely related to certain conceptions within various Western polytheisms, and the concept of kegare is one of these, closely paralleling the Greek concept of miasma. Kegare is impurity, and it happens simply as the result of going through life and being in contact with the things of life, up to and including all the small deaths which are required to continue life. There are also forms of kegare known as tsumi which are actively cultivated by impure actions, as well as ritual violations and unethical behavior; but even if these grave errors of tsumi are avoided, everyone accumulates kegare (and, often unwittingly, tsumi), and thus going to a Shrine to engage in Shinto ceremonies is important, because all of them include rituals of purification, and oftentimes even several pre-purifications before the main one takes place. Other than the deliberately tsumi-accumulating actions which one might do, there is no moral negativity attached to kegare in Shinto, and thus it is nothing at all like the concept of “sin” that pervades so many Western monotheisms, even though it is often translated as if these concepts are equivalent.

At the end of the year, and at its mid-point, rituals of purification are especially important to Shinto practice. The Tsubaki Grand Shrine of America in Granite Falls, WA–which is the place where my engagement with and education on Shinto has mostly occurred–celebrates the end-of-year purification ceremony, Oharahishiki, usually in mid-December. The Shrine grounds are in an amazing spot of nature along the headwaters of the Pilchuck River (near the mountain of the same name), where evidence of Native American activity has been found dating back thousands of years. The river, which is considered a kami in physical form, is used for various ceremonies during the year, and for the regular practice of misogi-shuho purification (involving near-full bodily immersion in its cold waters), which I’ve participated in on one occasion, and which has formed the basis of a water-based purification practice we now perform in the Ekklesía Antínoou. During the Great Fall Ceremony a few years ago at the site, I watched salmon in the river who were spawning right before me! It is truly a place that is literally the “source of life” for the salmon and much else in nature, and thus is a great location to serve as the focus and actively-cultivated source of communal spiritual life for local Shinto practitioners. At this Shrine, which serves the large Japanese diaspora in Western Washington state, as well as a growing number of Western people (many of them polytheists, pagans, and occultists of various stripes), major seasonal festivals are held on Sundays before noon, which is an obvious accommodation to prevailing religious sensibilities in this country, and in itself represents a syncretistic reckoning of sacred time on the local Shrine’s level. The Oharahishiki takes place on the Sunday in mid-December, and represents the first of four ceremonies that mark the passing of the old year and the beginning of the new, and which stretch from mid-December to early February.

A gohei–a wooden purification wand with two paper shide or paper streamers representing the spiraling energy (ki) of the kami‘s presence. They are used for purification, as well as marking sacred areas.

In the Oharahishiki, each person (and, hopefully, their home) is purified by a special small hand-held gohei (“purification wand”), and the oharae-no-kotoba or “great words of purification”–a prayer that occurs in many Shinto ceremonies–is read facing the gathered people rather than directing it toward the enshrined kami. This peculiar “direction” of the prayer of purification occurs only twice during the year, at the mid-year and end-of-year purification ceremonies. In my own experience, the energetic effects of this are palpable, and the cold and white character of Shinto’s purifying energies, and of the presence of the kami generally speaking, washes in a wave over the people at various points during the recitation of the norito (“prayer”). By this ceremony’s completion, the accumulated tsumi and kegare of the latter half of the year is purified, and fresh ki (“life-energy”) from the abundance of nature around the Shrine, as well as the direct involvement of the kami (and especially Sarutahiko-no-Okami–the head of the earthly kami and the giver of ki–in the case of the Tsubaki Shrines in Japan and the U.S. where he is enshrined), is infused into the participants for the close of the year and the beginning of the new year.

Next in time is the Hatsumoude, the first Shrine visit of the year, on which thousands of people come to the Tsubaki Grand Shrine of America at times ranging from midnight on New Year’s Eve to late in the afternoon on January 3rd or 4th (depending on the year). While this is the busiest festival of the year at the Shrine here in the U.S., major Shrines in Japan can receive literally millions of visitors over those few days. Many people participate in a ceremony, but many others simply come and make small monetary offerings and pray before the Shrine only, and then obtain omamori (amulets) and other items for their personal or domestic practices, and often also have divination via omikuji for the year-to-come. The atmosphere over those few days is festive, and there is also food available on the Shrine grounds, as well as tea, and fires are kept going outside to warm people who are waiting for a ceremony or are simply enjoying their tea in the intensified energetic environment of the Shrine. I will come back to a particularity of this festival in a few moments.

Following this, on a Sunday in mid-January, is the Kosatsu-Takiage-Shiki, which is a ceremony that expresses thanks, purification, and then proper disposition of all of the sacred instruments used in the previous year. In Shinto, many things are renewed on an annual basis–not unlike the movement of nature itself–and this includes all gohei and haragushi purification wands, all the shide that mark sacred areas of the shrines, the shimenawa ropes that similarly indicate sacred areas or objects, and all of the omamori that were used by people during the previous year, as well as many other such items. The culmination of this ceremony is the burning of all of these items in a grand purifying pyre while all present chant Harae Tamae Kiyome Tamae Rokkonshyojo, which translates very roughly as “purify me completely through the six roots of my being,” and which is used in a number of different purification ceremonies and other practices in Shinto.

The final ceremony of these four is Setsubun and the Mamemaki, which is usually right about the time of Imbolc, and at the Tsubaki Grand Shrine of America, usually falls on the morning of that greatest of secular sporting holidays, Super Bowl Sunday. (As I am not a football fan, this has never made any difference to me!) Setsubun simply means “season-division,” and it was the old new year festival, and likewise Chinese New Year usually takes place around that time as well. Several important actions are taken on the part of the Shinto kannushi (“priest”) on this occasion, including firing misfortune-dispelling arrows in various auspicious or inauspicious directions for that particular year. But, the real fun for the gathered people occurs in the Mamemaki, when two brave Shrine volunteers, dressed as oni, come menacing and attacking, and (due to cultural puns) the people mercilessly pelt them with roasted soybeans to dispel the negative energies they bring while yelling “Oni wa soto!” This is literal fun for the whole family, as you can imagine. Once the oni are driven away, some soybeans are thrown toward the Shrine itself to bring good fortune to it, as people shout “Fuku wa uchi!” The two phrases together essentially mean “Out with the bad, in with the good!”

We can see an evolution here, however, in how these various festivals eventually stacked up in this order, and how the secular new year as observed in the West came to be influential in all of this. Though the older traditions are still preserved in terms of Setsubun, the major focus has shifted to Hatsumoude both in Japan and in Shinto as practiced elsewhere. Participation in the larger and more formal ceremony for those who come to the Shrine is pretty much the norm for all four of these festivals except for Hatsumoude, where simply coming to the Shrine, making an offering and praying, and obtaining various sacred items or other services is individual and though “formal” is essentially informal, and can be done without any difficulty or sense of it not being “odd” to have traveled all that distance without taking part in the official ceremony. And, the ceremonies themselves on each occasion demonstrate this. For the Oharahishiki, Kosatsu-Takiage-Shiki, and Setsubun ceremonies, there is a preliminary purification, followed by a great and reverent deep bow by everyone present to open the official ceremony, and then the presentation of food offerings and all the other activities of that particular ceremony occur, and at the end, there is a final deep bow as well to complete the ceremony. For Hatsumoude, the ceremony which is followed is exactly like any other ceremony that one might make an appointment for during the rest of the year at the Shrine, and is in fact one for purification (which is usually the ceremony I take first-time visitors, as well as my college students, to at the Shrine). There is a preliminary purification, of course, but then after that, there is no major formal bow, nor are food offerings given (though, since they are given daily at the Shrine, they are already present); it simply goes right to the appropriate norito for the occasion.

While the casual observer and participant in the Shrine’s rituals might not think this is a very major detail to focus upon, it speaks volumes to the student of religious history, of polytheist practice, and of syncretism. The three more traditional rituals, with their various distinctive characteristics and practices, are all accompanied by a formal bow at the beginning and end of the ceremony. Yes, there is bowing throughout the ceremony as well (especially by the kannushi), but also before the ceremony begins several times for those who approach the Shrine in a reverent fashion, but this additional deep bow, without clapping (as is done with praying), and a deep (ninety-degree) rather than slight (forty-five-degree) bow, really demonstrates the more ancient and traditional character of those festivals as opposed to the newer and less-formalized ceremonies on the several days of Hatsumoude‘s observance itself.

There are a great many things, and probably many more obvious ones, which Shinto can teach about syncretism (not only with Buddhism and Taoism, but also with Christianity), and thus this particular issue may seem like a very small matter to focus upon, but it is intriguing to do so in any case. What might this suggest for our own practices of syncretism? While the form of Hatsumoude described above, held on its modern dates, has been done for over a century in Shinto, really the concept of “first Shrine visit of the year” has been done for ages, and would entail any time this occurs, whether on January 1st or March 19th if that date happened to be one’s first visit of the year. The accommodation of this tradition to Western orderings of time, represents a major syncretistic innovation for Shinto in Japan and elsewhere based on contact with Western culture; likewise, the holding of ceremonies on Sunday at the Tsubaki Grand Shrine of America represents a similar innovation.

One of the major points of my last column here was to emphasize that holy days and festivals take place in real time, with real people (and, needless to say, honoring real deities!), and thus they have histories that can be traced and understood, instead of assuming that they are all part of some distorted romantic notion of “antiquity” and “tradition.” As we continue to research the ancient practices of our various Western cultures and the holy tides and days they observed, likewise innovations can and will occur based on any number of factors, whether personal or communal in nature. This process can (and, I’d argue, should!) also be taking place with the wider occasions observed both secularly and religiously in our wider overcultures. Chanukkah has only become a “major” Jewish holiday as a result of the over-hyping of Christmas in American culture; likewise, in Shinto, the secular New Year of Western society has become a multi-day festival amidst the constellation of traditional Shinto observances that has entirely eclipsed the others in importance. While such syncretistic innovations may not (and, likely, should not!) overshadow other observances that we have as modern polytheists, perhaps we should look to these examples as possibilities for how such innovations can become even more meaningful and important for us when they are consciously entered into, rather than simply relying on some reflected glory of an ancient and unchanging past–which, it should be pointed out, never existed and has never been a reality. History is not a record of unbroken continuity and sameness, it demonstrates that no matter how much matters may seem the same, or may continue similar themes, there is change of all sorts occurring at every point. Our traditions are not amazing dragonflies in amber, they are many types of salmon hatching, swimming downstream and out to oceans and returning to their native rivers to spawn once again–rivers that can never be swum the same way twice.

What is a Lokean?

A question that I’ve been frequently running across as Loki’s fame has spread across the Internet over the past few years is, “how do I become a Lokean”? To answer that question, I thought I would first tackle the question, “what is a Lokean”? I have to warn my audience that there won’t be many footnotes in this article, and so a lot of what I’ll be talking about concerns my personal spiritual experiences and (GASP) UPG. Some of it may come off as spiritual “woo woo” to more agnostic or cultural Heathens/Pagans, but it is what it is. This is my experience, take it or leave it.

First of all, who in the hell am I, and why am I qualified to answer this question? I’ve been a devotee of Loki since 1995, when as a child I began having dreams about a person who called himself “Loki” and would take me on strange adventures. I grew up in a spiritual household, where one of my father’s best friends was a Native woman who I would define as a medium or spirit worker. She was like a second mother for me when I was growing up, and she taught me many useful things from a young age, including how to use my (what has now been popularly labeled) “god phone”. She and my father were some of the first people I shared my early experiences of Loki with, and he became my close companion not just in the dream world, but in my everyday life as well. My father bought me my very first book of Nose Myths around this time (which was “Nordic Gods and Heroes” by Padraic Colum). These stories made me even more enamored with Loki and his world, and I was hooked ever since.

From 1995- 2004 I was practicing a solitary blend of eclectic paganism/heathenry that was mostly inspired by my individual practice with Loki and books by pagan writers (such as Freya Aswynn and pretty much anything with a Norse title I could get my hands on) along with the Eddas. Some of these books had positive things to say about Loki, some of them had negative things to say. The negative interpretation of Loki as essentially the Norse Satan ran so contrary to what I had personally experienced of Loki (who had never brought me anything but blessings and good advice) that I tended to tune out those parts and ignore it. It has never ceased to hurt my heart when I read full on antagonistic descriptions of Loki, but in 20+ years it’s never altered my opinion.

Around 2005 I finally decided to actively seek out Heathens in my area, and became involved with a local group who I remain friends with to this day. Initially, some of the members were nervous regarding my devotion to Loki, but the unease slowly began to dissolve as we got to know each other better. I think it was during this time that I decided that, in any way I could, I wanted to be a good “ambassador” for Loki in the Heathen community. This has often meant learning to swallow my pride, and being willing to really listen to other’s points of view in order to be heard, but this philosophy has never steered me wrong.

In 2006, I decided to finally join one of the major Heathen organizations. I chose the Troth because of its open door policy towards people of all ethnicities and sexual orientations. Through the Troth I began to make friends in the wider Heathen community, and have been a member ever since.

So why was sharing my autobiography necessary you may ask? I just wanted to demonstrate that I’ve been an active worshipper of Loki for 20 years, and have been a sometimes observer, sometimes participant in the Heathen community specifically for about 10 years. I’ve had quite a long time to develop my own ideas about who Loki is and what it means to be a Lokean (ideas which have always been evolving, and I hope always will), and I’ve also been observing the shifting opinions that the Heathen community holds about Loki and Lokeans for a long time. I therefore might have some insight that people who are newer to the concept of Loki and “Lokeans” might find useful.

Get on with it! What is a Lokean?

Back when I first started to explore Heathenry, the word Lokean was used to describe a Heathen or Pagan whose “patron” or “fulltrui” was Loki, or someone who viewed Loki positively and included them in their worship. I think I first came across this word on the now defunct “Loki Cult” website, before I adopted it to describe myself. Since that time, my exact definition hasn’t changed all that much. A Lokean is someone who (whether they describe themselves as Heathen, Pagan, or something else) worships and works with Loki as the primary deity in their personal practice. Some people in the past few years have begun to use the word Lokean as if it were an independent religion in its own right, which has never been my understanding. In my opinion, taking Loki completely out of his cultural landscape and focusing only on him to the point of ignoring the existence of the other Norse Gods essentially strips him of his role in the natural and spiritual world. Being aware of who he is and how he interacts with the other gods in his Pantheon is important, but I don’t think it’s mandatory that someone identify as “Heathen” in order to be Lokean. However, many did and still do.

I think it is a very important distinction to make that not all people who identify as Lokean identify as “Rökkrtrú”. I am personally not a fan of this label, though some people under the Heathen umbrella do choose to use it. Because many new Lokeans have despaired of being accepted by mainstream Heathenry (whether that is due to running into Heathens that aggressively oppose the worship of Loki, or because of an expectation that all Heathens hate Loki) some have embraced this title, which I think has led to it becoming a widespread term, despite the fact that it was never used in antiquity. Because I tend to view the Jötunar as a class of deities in their own right like the Titans were in ancient Greece, I tend to see the word Rökkr as superfluous and as carrying unnecessary stigma that tends to further alienate the deities who are granted this title in the minds of Heathens. However, that is only my opinion, and I mean no disrespect to individuals who have embraced this title.

How do you become a Lokean?

There is no specific “oath” involved in becoming a Lokean, and no agreed upon model of worship. Before one starts throwing oaths around, I think it’s important to understand the function of an oath in modern Heathenry, and how they’re supposed to effect you in the spiritual and physical world. Oaths aren’t thrown around liberally in most Heathen circles, and making an oath is perceived as tying your destiny, your luck/personal power, and your honor to your word. If anyone else is present for your oath, it is widely believed that their luck and honor is on the line as well, since they are expected to help you uphold your word. Making an oath to a god is tying your destiny, your fortune, and your life to them, for good or for ill. People who break their oaths are highly looked down upon in modern Heathenry, and some might go as far as to say that oath breakers have no place in the community, or are even cursed. Some believe that if you break your oath to a god for any reason, they may decide to exact their own recompense from you at their own discretion (and potentially from anyone who witnessed the oath but didn’t hold you to your word).

Some kindreds put a safety-net in place before someone makes an oath, and a price is agreed upon that the person making the oath will pay if they break the oath or discontinue the oath for any reason. In the case of making an oath of devotion and service to Loki, whether asking him to be your fulltrui, husband, or friend, I would suggest creating an agreed-upon payment that you will give him in the case that the oath is broken for any reason. This isn’t intended to be a loophole where you make an oath to Loki, pay him when you screw up, and then oath again. The point is that you are hurting your own power by damaging the integrity of your word, and continuously doing that can have negative effects on your overall success and effectiveness in life.

There are also timed-oaths, where you make an oath to do something until a designated time. This might be the safest way for a new devotee to approach an oath of devotion to Loki: agree to honor him as your fulltrui for a certain amount of time. If you both find this to be a favorable arrangement after the designated time, you can move onto more long-term agreements from there. In either case, I suggest that contacting a diviner that you trust and who has proven themselves to be effective may be helpful in determining whether or not Loki agrees to the terms you’re creating. An oath to a god is a two way street, and they may accept your oath or not.

Any oath you make to Loki is between you and him, and if you are primarily worshipping Loki in your practice, or have made some kind of oath of devotion to him, then you have the right to call yourself Lokean, even if someone (the author included) doesn’t agree with your specific worship practices.

Is it safe to worship Loki?

This really is kind of a loaded question. To be 100% honest, no, I don’t think it always is “safe” to worship Loki…. or Odin, or Freyja, or any god that holds dominion over powerful, life-shattering transformation. One of the hardest lessons I’ve had to learn in working with Loki has been coming to terms with his role as a god of chance. Where Odin aligns himself with the force of destiny, Loki is in alignment with the happy accident: the quick, powerful shifts in fate, which can bring down nations and permanently alter our destinies. He is pure potential with no boundaries or expectations. That place of pure potential isn’t a place where human beings can live forever. Trying to live in that place of Loki’s pure energy of transformation can be extremely disorienting and disorganizing and I think this is where Loki’s reputation as a god of “chaos” truly comes from. Nothing can ever find completion or stable ground in pure potential, and it’s my personal belief that anyone who is deeply aligned with Loki will (sooner or later) need other stabilizing powers in their lives to ensure that the Lokean in question doesn’t become trapped in a whirlwind of potential with no direction. The gods are real, and the gods are powerful, and playing with gods can actually affect your life in subtle ways you may not expect. This is one pitfall that lies in new devotees flocking to the god Loki because of their affection for a character in a movie named Loki, without any real understanding of who the real Loki is, what he represents, or how his energies are going to effect them in the real world. I have met many Lokeans who have gone through stages where they have been living in the chaos of pure potential (myself included) and can’t seem to get their lives together. Finding outlets for stability and direction is important for anyone who has been called by Loki.

It’s also important to remember that Loki is not always a nice, gentle, guy, who will tell you everything is wonderful about you (even your faults) and bring you flowers on the weekend. He is a trickster and a transformer. If you are lying to others or, even worse, lying to yourself, his lessons can rip your life to shreds and force you to see what really lies behind all of your masks. He is the cremation fire that will burn away all of your comfortable illusions and expose you for who and what you really are. He is not a comfortable god, and he is not always a “nice guy”. He can be a real dick sometimes, and not just to the people you personally think are full of shit: That axe swings both ways. If you aren’t prepared to transform, potentially destroying every illusion of yourself you’ve ever clung to, don’t try playing house with Loki.

Loki is also very childlike in many ways, much like the Orisha Eleggua. He can be possessive, moody, and impulsive. If I did every single thing that popped into Loki’s head, my life would be in shambles. In this lies another Lokean lesson: Sometimes, he may try to push you as far as he can, just to see where it is you’ll stand up for yourself and draw your own lines. Self-respect and living in accordance with your chosen destiny is an important lesson of Loki’s.

A god can’t change its nature, and they are who they are. I would therefore caution not to make any promises or agreements with Loki you are not expecting to mindfully keep for the rest of your life. Making an oath to Loki because of your newfound excitement over him, the Thor movies, or his hype on the Internet may feel good in the moment. However, 40 years down the line when you may have moved onto new spiritual paths (or no spiritual paths), the hype of your earlier interests has simmered down, and you have either forgotten or disregarded the oaths you made to a Norse deity once upon a time, that could seriously come back to haunt you. Loki is a god of transformation, of change, of trickery, and sometimes of destruction. You also have to keep in mind that when you’re dealing with Loki, sometimes it’s like dealing with a kid. What would happen if you promised a kid you were going to get them an ice-cream cone every Sunday and then forgot about it or just stopped? Probably a big, freakin’ tantrum. Aligning yourself with Loki’s energy and then ignoring it could cause it to flare up in unexpected ways in your life, like a child’s unrestrained cry for attention. Loki is what he is, and just because you think that you are one of his “special people” will not exempt you from learning some of the harder lessons he may have to teach. He is not a human being, he is a force of nature, and doesn’t play by the rules of human social conventions.

With those things beings said, for some people, no other god “fits” for them better than Loki. There are some people whose energy is naturally in alignment with the kind of energy that Loki carries, and who can carry and deal with this energy in ways that may not work for others (just like any other god or goddess). Herein lies the wisdom of Lucumi, which has spiritual technology in place to identify your energy, and align it with what it needs to become even better. Sometimes who we think we are and what we think we need doesn’t match up with reality, and we can trick ourselves into believing we’re something we’re not. There is no other god or goddess that makes me feel the sense of devotion, peace, and completion that Loki does. However, I recognize that this does not mean that Loki is the god for everyone, or that aligning oneself with his energy will be beneficial for everyone. This is why I think it’s important that before you make an oath or agreement with Loki, you should spend some time getting to know who he really is, how his energy actually operates in your life, and if your life is getting better or worse when you’re in alignment with that energy.

Do Lokeans have an honor code?

I think that many people within Heathenry probably assume that because Lokeans have seemingly read the Eddas and have “chosen” to worship Loki despite the fact that he is obviously an agent of evil and chaos in the world, that we have no honor system, or somehow stand for the destruction of all that is good and decent. This is absolutely untrue. Often times I’ve found that people who are critical of Loki don’t seem to be talking about the same Loki that I am, and I’ve developed my relationship with Loki from a point of personal experience (which many Loki critics haven’t). Maybe this makes me delusional, but if that’s the case, maybe we’re all delusional and we should all accept Jesus as our lord and savior ASAP.

As I explained in my own account, I believe that from the very beginning, Loki chose me, not the other way around. I also believe that because my personal interactions with Loki began long before I had time to be indoctrinated by the idea that he is a force of evil, this has never colored my perception of who he is. It is my personal belief that Snorri’s descriptions of Loki in his Edda were highly influenced by his own need to cast a villain in his Balder story, and Völuspá (which itself was highly influenced by the Book of Revelations and the doomsday narrative which was so popular in the 10th century, when it was most likely composed). I also do not believe that Ragnarök is a single, future event, in which all of human kind will have to take a stand with the “good guys” against the “bad guys” (but that’s a different article for a different day). Loki does have an honor code, and so do the people who worship him.

That being said, Loki is a trickster deity, which gives him a different code of ethics than most other deities in the pantheon. There are a few major roles that a trickster plays within its respective pantheon, many of which remain consistent across cultures. Trickster is there to challenge (and thereby, often reinforce) social norms. If Trickster screws up big time by breaking a social taboo, his story helps to reinforce why that taboo is in place. Trickster is also there to remind us to lighten up, and to laugh at our own ridiculous human natures. Sometimes we can become so self-righteous and so entrenched in our own beliefs and egos, that Trickster appears to hold up the mirror and make us really look at ourselves, question our motives, and perhaps most importantly, laugh at ourselves. Trickster is the speaker of unpleasant truths. He’s the little boy that points out that the Emperor has no clothes on. He’s here to point out our hypocrisy, our injustices, and our biases, so we’ll hopefully grow into more functional human beings. Trickster is also a creator and a destroyer. He creates people, nations, and worlds, and he also destroys them so that new paradigms can be created.

In order to perform these functions, Trickster always needs to be a liminal figure. He is someone who can move between extremes in order to present the truths and follies of all sides. He moves between male and female, different races, chaos and order, and is never really fully any of them. He is a shape-shifter so he can experience and compare all possible realities. He is not the enemy of order; he is the enforcer of balance between chaos and order and is the instigator of action. Stagnation brings rot. Whenever things are becoming stagnant, it is Trickster who acts as the force of action.

These are very subtle virtues, which don’t necessarily spark the same emotional reaction as words like justice, victory, and family, which are ascribed to other deities in the Norse pantheon; nor do any of Loki’s positive qualities fit comfortably within our romanticized vision of a Viking warrior culture. Loki isn’t famous for being a warrior; he’s famous for his cunning. Out of all of the gods and goddesses, only Loki has the power to find a solution to any problem and think outside the box. Even Odin can’t think his way out of a fix the way that Loki can. He may create turmoil in his quest for action and transformation, but without Loki, what stories about the gods would be left? And how boring would our mythos be without anyone to push boundaries?

With Loki as our focus of worship, what kind of code should Lokeans honor? Holding a sense of flexibility and being able to adapt and transform. We should be continuously working on ourselves, bettering ourselves, transforming ourselves in alignment with our quest for authenticity. We should never become so rigid in our ways of thinking and believing that it becomes impossible for us to see anyone’s truth but our own: part of the role of the trickster is to walk the line between extremes and thus find a place of common ground between them. This means learning to walk a mile in anyone’s shoes in order to come from a place of genuine understanding.
We should be strong enough and brave enough to speak the truth, especially when it needs to be spoken and nobody else has the cojones to do it. There is, however, a careful line that needs to be trod here. Some people mistake speaking the truth with speaking their fervent opinion, and begin to see anyone whose perception is different from theirs as the enemy of the truth. This means learning to speak your truth from your heart, not your ego, which says: “I’m right, and anyone who says I’m not is persecuting me.” Being a devotee of the trickster means being willing to turn that own harsh finger on yourself before you turn it on anyone else. It also means being able to discern between the things we just dislike and true injustices that need to be challenged.

Perhaps the most powerful tool at the trickster’s disposal when facing these challenges is humor. Back in the day, it was only the Jester that was allowed to criticize the king through humor, thus becoming an unthreatening outlet for the voice of the people. Being able to laugh at yourself is a prerequisite; otherwise you may begin to embody the dogmatic attitudes you are opposing. Laughter, when not being used as a weapon of attack, allows us all to examine the truth in a neutral, deflated setting.

Living with the trickster also means knowing when it’s time to create new things and when it’s time to let old things go. This can be one of Loki’s hardest lessons. We often build our identities around exterior, vulnerable concepts: what we do for a living, our religions, our relationships, our communities. When those things stop serving us, or even start hurting us, they can be some of the hardest things in our lives to let go of, because we mistakenly believe that they define who we are as people. Loki is a god that always pushes you to dig deeper, to get to the true heart of our beings, and to learn that all of these things are vulnerable to change. It’s up to us to find the core of our being, which can be transformed but never destroyed. Nothing is permanent but change, and Loki can teach you to be a reed in the wind (even if you have to learn the hard way).

Is it the goal of Lokeans to be controversial?

An accusation that has been leveled against Lokeans as long as I can remember, is that they are only interested in Loki in order to appear controversial. In reality, what “controversial” means, has changed from generation to generation, and I personally believe that Loki’s reputation as the god of “outsiders” has more to do with Snorri’s depiction of him as the “enemy from within” than anything else. Some 19th century artists, such as Mårten Eskil Winge seem to have portrayed Loki as purposefully Semitic, reflecting a time period where romantic European nationalism was beginning to take hold and the Jews were the feared “other”. As modern Heathenry began to develop in some circles as a predominantly male, heteronormative, and in some cases sexist tradition, groups such as the Odinic Rite have identified forces in the world they see destructive (such as the “gay agenda” and “women’s lib”) as the vehicles of Loki. Others have suggested that Loki really represents Jesus, who destroyed the old religion. Other people use Loki to point out the destructive nature of racial mingling. Out of all the gods, Loki has been selected to be the “other”, no matter who each respective group believes the “other” is. Sometimes, this can be as simple as taking behavior or qualities one personally sees as repellant, and then projecting those things onto an exterior enemy (i.e. Loki).

So what do Jews, women’s lib, the “gay agenda”, and mixed-race relationships have to do with Loki? Actually, nothing. If wearing clothes made of burlap was considered by any group to be socially taboo, I’m sure that Loki would have been called the god of burlap at one time or another. The reality is, that in many ways Loki (like the Devil of Christianity) has been singled out as the scapegoat on which to project those things that we fear, revile, or vilify. Within Heathenry, he has often become the scapegoat for all of our perceived “sins”, whether real or imagined. How much of these projections actually say something about Loki’s character, or that of the person who is creating their own image of Loki, is up for debate.

I have actually never met a person who actively worshipped Loki in an attempt to make themselves appear controversial (I’m not saying they may not exist, I’ve just never met them). Some people who fall outside the realms of social normality are drawn to Loki, because they resonate with the image that has been built around him as an “outcast”. I tend to reject the image of Loki as the “god of outcasts”, and rather see him as the god of liminal figures: people who for any reason, live within more than just the accepted reality. In our modern culture, this may mean gay people, transsexuals, the transgendered, people who live with physical or mental illness, biracial people, people in a biracial relationship, people with dual citizenship, foreigners, immigrants, artists, anyone who straddles two realities or challenges the accepted reality. Whether or not these people have been considered “outcasts” has largely depended on their social environment at the time. Sometimes people such of this have been elevated and valued for their unique experiences. Other times they have been reviled as enemies of conformity. I would therefore say it is not at all a prerequisite to be controversial or an outsider to be a Lokean, though you may find that people with a liminal life experience will be drawn to Loki, because out of all the gods he embodies and expresses their own experience in a way that they can relate to. Loki is both Jötunn and Æsir, male and female, chaotic and constructive, good and bad, and he is also none of these things.

Do you have to marry Loki to be a Lokean?

When I was first introduced to Heathenry as a child, the only person I can recall ever claiming to have married a Norse god was Freya Aswynn, who underwent a marriage rite to Odin. Whether or not these kinds of unions were taking place before or at the same time, I have no idea. The next time I heard about god-marriage, with was around 2007, when I was first became familiar with the writing of Galina Krasskova, Raven Kaldera and Elizabeth Vongvisith, who to my knowledge was the first person to publically declare her marriage to Loki. Here and there I would hear accounts of people undergoing marriage vows with their gods, which I assumed resembled rites such as Marriage Lwa or the marriage vows that Nuns make to Jesus. When the Thor movie came out in 2011, I observed an explosive boom on the Internet of women (both young and old) who were claiming the title of “Loki’s wife”. I personally believe that the intersection of fandom and Heathen blogs were the formula that created this particular concoction, and I’ve already addressed how I’ve seen this influx effect Loki’s image in Heathenry in my (now somewhat controversial) article, 4 Reasons Heathens Hate Lokeans (By a Lokean).

In reality, I wrote the abovementioned article because I was becoming very frustrated in the trend that I was observing, where people were writing about their religious experiences with Loki with the same degree of reverence that they might write a DeanXSam sexy Supernatural fan-fiction. Because of this tendency towards over-sharing their sexual experiences (whether real or imagined) with a Loki who bears a striking similarity to Tom Hiddleston, I have seen this trend do more damage to Loki’s image within Heathenry than anything else in recent history. Any positive or constructive discussion about Loki’s role within Norse Paganism in the past has sadly become completely eclipsed by the current belief that all Lokeans are teenage girls with Tumblr accounts and reactionary crybabies, and Loki must foster that kind of behavior in people. Therefore, not only is he “evil”, but he’s also become a joke of a god who isn’t worthy of any serious worship. Sadly, not many people who have embraced Loki in this way and are completely new to Heathenry have seen how this new movement has made the perception of Loki within Heathenry even worse than it was before. Not only is it worse, but it’s now also become something of a running gag. My frustration comes from a deep love of Loki and a dislike of his name being further dragged through the mud.

Does this mean that there are no serious worshippers who use their marriage to Loki as a devotional act? No, there certainly are people out there who take their priestess/wife vows to Loki very seriously, and attempt to be positive presences in their own communities. These same serious worshipers would also tell you that there is also absolutely no prerequisite to marry Loki in order to worship Loki. However, because of the overwhelming voices of the new Loki brides on the Internet, I tend to see many people succumbing to a kind of passive peer pressure, where they may feel that their “seriousness” as a worshipper of Loki depends on marrying him in the eyes of their contemporaries. I suspect that marrying Loki has become a merit badge for new worshippers to prove how deeply Loki loves them. In many cases this seems to be turning into a competition between Loki wives, in which an inflated sense of drama and unworthiness seems to be making them miserable more than it seems to be empowering them. I would therefore encourage anyone considering jumping on the Loki-bride bandwagon to really wait and see how your relationship with Loki develops naturally as the Marvel hype inevitably begins to wind down. You don’t need to make yourself a carbon copy of the Lokeans you’ve met online in order to be a real Lokean. All of that is between you and Loki.

Better yet, get off the Internet. Stop seeking validity from strangers on the other side of a computer screen. Go out in nature (Heathenry is a nature religion, and Loki is a nature god) and spend some real time with Loki and experience his power on your own. Develop your own rituals for him and your own relationship with him that doesn’t include lighting a digital candle in a chat room. Get all of the other voices out of your head, and then you’ll be able to hear what your heart is really telling you.

Are all Lokeans girls?

Perhaps because of the massive influx of Loki brides, there are probably currently many more females publically identifying as Lokeans than males (though that is only my best guess). In reality, I have met many men who identify as Lokean, and many of them have been some of the most honorable, witty, and interesting guys I’ve ever met. If you are a male or male-identified person who is being called by Loki, don’t despair that you need to fit into the “Loki wife” mold in order to be a Lokean. There is nothing “unmanly” about being a man who worships Loki. Loki’s masculinity may not always be stereotypical, but he’s still a masculine figure that can empower men who likewise, may express and experience their masculinity in non-typical ways.

Are there really any “Lokean elders”?

Just as in any group (or sub-group) there are some people who have been at this “Lokean” business longer than others. In my opinion, doing something for a while longer than some other people doesn’t automatically grant you the title of “elder”, though some Lokeans have chosen to adopt it. However, there is no Lokean committee that grants the title of elder, and whether or not you choose to regard a Lokean as your elder should be dependent on whether or not a more experienced person has helped to guide and uplift your own spiritual experience. If you feel like someone deserves the title of your elder, that’s up to you to bestow it.

Conclusion

In conclusion, I would like to affirm to my readers that everything I have said comes from my own 20 years of experience. This may not be your exact experience. I didn’t start out worshipping Loki with all of these understandings, or with this level of “seriousness”, and I’ve failed a lot along the way. My perceptions might change and evolve in another 20 years. It’s hard to say what Loki worship will look like in the future, and what it means to be “Lokean” may transform by then as well. I’m far from perfect, I’m not a Lokean guru, but hopefully my experience has something to offer new seekers.

Because of constant questions about what kind of positive example Loki could possibly set for his Lokean worshippers, I’d like to leave you with a list of nine “Lokean virtues” that I’ve compiled. Whether or not Heathens need the 9 Noble Virtues at all is highly debatable, and this list is admittedly something I’ve pulled out of my own ass. You may or may not resonate with this list, so take what you like as guidelines if you need them. Feel free to ignore the rest:

  1. Truth: Be real. Be true to yourself as much as you are to others. Don’t apologize for who you are.
  2. Humor: Learn to find the humor in all things, especially in yourself. This is how we learn not to be self-righteous assholes.
  3. Humility: If you need to tie your balls to a goat to get shit done, suck it up buttercup.
  4. Cunning:Try to think outside the box. Don’t make a mess so big that you can’t think your way out of it.
  5. Transformation:Don’t be afraid of change, because that’s how we grow. Don’t be afraid of self-examination and listen to constructive criticism.
  6. Creativity:Create awesome stuff. Try new things out. If you don’t like it, blow it up and try again.
  7. Accountability:You are the only one in charge of your own destiny, your own life, and your own actions. Own your shit.
  8. Empathy:Try to see things from more than one perspective. Walk a mile in someone else’s shoes before you pass judgment.
  9. Experimentation: A mistake is only a mistake if you do it twice. Until then, everything is an experiment.

Compromise is not an option

On December 13, I posted an article in my personal blog in which I discussed the dangers of compromising one’s religious practice for the comfort of the majority.(1) In that article, I promised that I would discuss the theological implications of compromising on our polytheistic values, beliefs, and praxis. This column is the culmination of that promise.

More and more in the various communities at large, bubbling up every time there is a heated discussion or debate, every time a potentially “controversial” practice is mentioned,  I’ve noticed a push to cull from our traditions those things that might make the mainstream — be it mainstream Paganism, mainstream Abrahamic religions, and/or the humanist contingents — uncomfortable. Yielding to that impulse is a slippery slope into moral cowardice, a tearing at the threads of our traditions in a way that threatens the integrity of the whole of our respective religions.

As polytheists, we must, above all, guard against the impulse for homogenization. The traditions that we are struggling to restore are precious things. They are containers of Mystery, of the manifold ways in which our Holy Powers may manifest and transform Their devotees and by extension the world at large. That is not something to be dismissed lightly. I would go so far as to posit that at the heart of this push toward unification is not only an unexamined monotheistic impulse, but a deep hostility toward Mystery and thus toward the Gods Themselves.

That is all too often at the heart of cries for homogenization: a desire to cull Mystery from the religion, a desire to excise that which is authentic and true leaving only pabulum accessible to the masses, regardless of their effort or devotion. What remains is then the human part of religion and nothing of the Gods.

I suppose if one’s “religion” is a purely social endeavor, then perhaps this is acceptable. To those of us involved in restoration however it is not.  Polytheism is steeped in diversity of practice. It is not neat, homogenous, unthreatening. It is a riotous panoply of cultus and praxis. Often rooted in specific places, the regional variants that have the potential to develop now, as they did in the past, can be staggering. Acknowledging and embracing regional cultic practices, understanding that the Gods can and do request different things from different people means first and foremost A) acknowledging that the Gods exist and B) granting them pride of place in one’s hierarchy of priorities. That is all the more so when one’s cultic practices are outside of mainstream values. To those committed to this work, this seems so obvious and fundamental but the reality is, that in our current culture, it’s not.

Moreover, I’ll be honest, this is a tremendously difficult article for me to write, precisely because this is for me, in colloquial terms, a ‘no brainer.’ It begins and ends with the Gods and with doing what is honorable and right by Them. I have no comprehension whatsoever of the impulse to curb one’s devotion for the comfort of the mainstream (or for anyone’s comfort including my own for that matter). It’s been trained out of me by close to thirty years of devotional work. So much of my own theological musings never need to move beyond “that’s what the Gods want” because, by virtue of being a spirit-worker, I can ask directly and receive a comprehensible reply. When I’m not in the headspace to do that, i divine and if i can’t do that, i live with a diviner so I have the option of asking him to divine for me. I realize, however, that this isn’t the case with the majority of people. Not only that, but we live in a society that all but pathologizes devotion. We as a society prioritize the shallowest aspects of the social so it’s no wonder then that it’s almost ingrained in us to cull the authentic out of our spiritualities until what we have is a social clique in place of a religion.  If we’re not careful, we do it without thinking. Like water flowing downhill, after all, our actions and habits tend to take the path of least resistance. Not only don’t we think about it, we’ve been trained by our society to avoid doing exactly that.

In many ways, this highlights what I believe to be one of the essential splits between devotional polytheists and large swaths of the Pagan and/or humanist “pagan” majorities (and to be honest, between the minority of Gods-oriented folk and the majority of those who are not within most religions down through history. This is not in any way a Polytheist or Pagan problem alone). It raises the question of whether or not our traditions and those of us practicing those traditions are Gods-driven or human-driven; and while I would argue that the dichotomy is in fact a false one, that serving the Gods first and foremost benefits, augments, and nourishes our humanity, I’m well aware that’s not a position that everyone comprehends or with which everyone agrees.

Ironically, a similar conversation is currently happening in an interfaith community with which I tangentially associate. The idea of a ‘hierarchy of religion’ cropped up unexpectedly to the dismay of many and the obliviousness of more in a recent series of discussions. I believe this concept, unconscious or not, of a hierarchy of religion is in part, at the heart of this push to mediocritize our traditions. The “hierarchy of religions’ is the unspoken idea that certain expressions of religion are “more evolved” than others. Given that Religious Studies, Anthropology, and many related disciplines evolved and really hit their stride during the Victorian period, the most evolved form of religion was viewed as a very WASP expression of Protestant Christianity (with all the racism, classicm, and white privilege one might expect with those origins). Now days in academia, there tends to be the expectation that if you are educated you’ll of course be agnostic (or even atheist) but if not that, then a non-devout Protestant is the next best thing. Religious expressions that don’t fit that model may be viewed as corrupt, perverted, dangerous, deluded, mentally ill, or, more likely, primitive and un-evolved. They tend to be dismissed as ‘what those un-evolved primitives over there are doing” and generally those “primitives” are quite a few shades darker than the self-congratulatory white man doing the dismissing.

If you think this is something that died with the Victorian period, or that’s relegated solely to academic frustrations, think again. I’ve seen every bit of this poison in Paganisms and even Polytheisms. This, sadly, is the cultural inheritance of “modernity”  and I very much view this complex of attitudes as part and parcel of what we are all tasked with fighting as we struggle to restore our traditions in clean and sustainable ways. It’s part and parcel of those attitudes — so dismissive of the power and diversity of the sacred, and its expression—that would prevent the resacralization of our world.

I think that we must be especially wary of calls for the homogenization of our traditions, for the excising and culling (or control and othering) of the more experiential elements, and for the prioritization of our feelings. Alarm bells ought to go off in our minds, hearts, and spirits whenever anyone person or organization suggests “we shouldn’t do that, it might make us look weird.” or “”we’re so much more evolved than our ancestors. We shouldn’t do that anymore.” or “That might make people uncomfortable.” Let us instead be brave and bold in our commitment and devotion to our Gods. Let us instead choose to communicate and educate. Let us instead refuse to limit our spirituality to modern ideals, ideals and mores informed not by ancestral wisdom, but by disrespect, disregard, and contempt for direct experience of the sacred.

More than anything else, I think it’s incumbent on us to consider what it does to the Gods’ relationship with Their people when we choose to compromise in our devotion and in the expression of our traditions. I think it’s important to consider that the practices contained in our Mysteries foster relationship with our Gods in very specific and very important ways. These are all things that are or were obvious and fundamental in religions and cultures steeped in their ancestral, polytheistic, and often animistic traditions. They’re not so obvious in our culture, disconnected as it is from authentic experience. It’s the spiritual equivalent of an organic, homemade eight course gourmet meal vs. McDonalds.

When I initially decided to write this, I had planned to focus solely on the theological issues at hand, but these are fairly easily summed up: prioritize the Gods and don’t compromise on the tradition and that tradition will grow and nourish its followers. The real problem is the intersection of the social with the theological. In a world as fundamentally disconnected,  imbalanced, and hostile to the Gods as the one in which we live, sometimes those issues need to be addressed first, before the theological ones fall into place. Sometimes we need to challenge our social assumptions, examine our commitments and reorganize our priorities before we’re ready to address our theology. It’s ongoing work, challenging work, but necessary work in the scope of this restorative process.

notes:

1. http://krasskova.wordpress.com/2014/12/13/compromise-is-not-an-option/

A Syncretistic Saturnalia

I don’t know if it is coincidence or not (and I’m not sure I believe that “coincidence” actually happens–!?!), but it seems that people seem like they’re a little bit “off” these days, and it really started to happen hot and heavy as of December 17th, when Saturnalia began. Saturnalia is one of the great “feasts of reversal,” so to speak, when the Golden Age of humanity returns again, kings serve slaves, slaves are crowned as kings, and all sorts of mirth and games are afoot.

And, apparently, people lose their minds, too.

Whether one ascribes it to our mania of over-commercialization and the holiday excesses of food, money, and enforced family gatherings and the dramatic stresses they create, or the secular-skewering-religious-while-religious-tries-to-skewer-back overculture’s general atmosphere at the present time of year, or just the weather and the season, or the Roman festival’s arrival, it’s a very strange time of year. I will not say it’s the “Most Wonderful Time” by any stretch of the imagination, and I’ll say that even less the more that song gets played; but, I find myself looking at my festival calendar, and there’s all sorts of things going on from a variety of different traditions.

In the Ekklesía Antínoou, there are various threads to follow–Greek, Roman, and Egyptian, for starters. We honor the Roman by celebrating the seven nights of Saturnalia themselves (and some other Roman festivals that fall within that time), as well as the birth of Sol Invictus on the 25th–on which more in a few moments. Saturn, Ceres, and Bacchus were all honored during the wider period of Brumalia, a Winter Solstice festival that could commence as early as November 24th, and each of them are honored during our Saturnalia feasts. Some of us honor the Greek tradition by a modern nine-night festival called Heliogenna, but for me it comes forth most in the Graeco-Thracian festival of Nyx, Mother Night, which is on Winter Solstice itself. Further, the main syncretism of Antinous to Dionysos is also celebrated on Winter Solstice, and a further Graeco-Egyptian dimension is brought in by honoring him as syncretized to Harpocrates on that day as well.

But, from my various Celtic practices, there are further dimensions about these days. The birth of Cú Chulainn also happens on Winter Solstice (gosh, EVERYONE wants to be in on that one, don’t they?). And, one of the only Gaulish festivals that we have record of in Roman practice, the Eponalia, happens on December 18th, since she was eventually incorporated into Roman practice after the long period of conquest and then colonization of Gaul as a mother goddess and a goddess beloved of the cavalry. While this could just be a random date chosen by the Romans to honor this foreign goddess, I suspect there may be more to it than that. In my own personal musings on the timing of this date, I am reminded that Cú Chulainn had strong connections to horses as well as hounds, and his comparanda in other Celtic cultures were likewise mothered by horse goddesses, and so perhaps there is more at work here than can be discerned with certainty by the source-aware eye.

Undoubtedly, there will be lots of people–both in paganism and in the wider culture–that will be talking about how Christmas is just a Christianization of an older pagan solar festival, and usually Mithras comes into the discussion at some point as well. It is one of the points of the year where Christians are willing to concede that many of their own most beloved practices are the results of early syncretisms of their movement with what was going on in the wider Roman polytheistic world. (Indeed, decorated trees at this time of year probably come from Saturnalia practices.) That’s certainly true of Christianity, and illustrates the irony that many religions which have historically been most opposed to syncretism have often been extremely good at doing it themselves, especially in their earlier periods. But, on this particular score, it doesn’t seem to pan out on closer scrutiny, which few people actually want to engage in on these matters, whether they are on the pro-pagan side or not.

The Romans used to honor a god called Sol Indigenes, the “Native Sun,” who had a feast on August 9th, and may have also been the recipient of the Agonalia sacrifice of a goat on December 11th. There was no major or active syncretism, however, of Sol Indigenes to the Greek Helios that is visible to archaeologists or scholars of religion.

Then there was that whole thing with Elagabulus, the teenage Syrian Roman Emperor (whose comics, action figures, and films you should eagerly watch for!) of the Severan Dynasty, who brought the cultus of the Syro-Roman Sol Invictus Elagabulus to Rome, and attempted to impose a kind of pagan monotheism with it in the early 3rd century CE. That left a very bad taste in the Romans’ mouths for a few decades after his assassination, though probably as much from his rather excessive and hedonistic lifestyle and his disregard for other Roman social customs than the specific matters of religion.

It was not until the principate of Aurelian in the mid-3rd century CE that a state-sponsored cultus of Sol Invictus, stripped of any specifically Syrian associations, was commenced, and continued for the rest of late antiquity, and began celebrating his birth on December 25th. The first high priest of the cult was one Virius Lupus, interestingly enough (though I’m not named after him, but an earlier person of that name who was a governor of Britannia during the reign of Septimius Severus…which is another story!). You can read more about all of this in Gaston Halsberghe’s book The Cult of Sol Invictus (Leiden: Brill, 1972).

A few decades before the time of Elagabulus, however, Tertullian of Carthage–one of the important Christian church fathers–reported that the Feast of the Annunciation was celebrated on March 25th. The Annunciation is the occasion of Jesus’ conception by Mary, and thus nine months from then would be the reasonable time to expect that Jesus would be born. Thus, some Christian churches were potentially celebrating his birth on December 25th decades before the birth of the Sun–native or otherwise–was marked by the Romans. It is important, when facts like this are known by polytheists, to admit and acknowledge them without any major fuss. It does our traditions no good at all to always cloak them in the authority of hoary antiquity when it can sometimes be proven that such is not the case. To disabuse oneself of the notion that “older” = “better” where all things polytheistic are concerned is a very good step. Doing so, likewise, helps to shed some of the objectifying tendencies we have toward our own traditions, to think of them as “pure” and “ancestral,” and in doing so thinking of them in manners half-a-step short of the distorting and romantic notions of the “noble savage” who did things prompted not by history and its often political and social circumstances but instead by nature and the “timeless” existence of ancient peoples as well as still-living indigenous cultures.

And Mithras? There is no evidence that his birth was celebrated on December 25th or anywhere near it. Of the various relics left to us by the cultus of Mithras, a cult calendar was not one of them. It is only via his apparent mythic narrative connections to and occasional syncretism with Helios in early iconography, understood at later periods to be “the same as” the Roman Sol Invictus (even though Mithras’ cultus in the Mediterranean exists at least three centuries before that of Sol Invictus), that such suggestions come about. These get erroneously misunderstood by those who aren’t aware of the actual chronologies involved. This suggestion was especially made in scholarship of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, when much was made of the “rivalry” of the Mithraic cultus to Christianity and the supposed similarities between the two–many of which were entirely invented, and which are still used by atheists to discredit Christianity’s “originality” despite there being no substance to them at all. It behooves us to know the specifics on these matters so that the discussions of both atheist and Christian interlocutors can be corrected when such points are raised either for or against their particular theological positions, or our own.

Rather than ending this multi-syncretistic reflection on the holy tides of different cultures at this time of year with a set of good wishes to all, no matter what they celebrate–which is what you’d expect, isn’t it?–I’ll instead make a suggestion in line with what I’ve just outlined. Saturnalia is a time of reversals. so it is said. Those of us who make our livings at educational institutions usually enjoy a break–however long or short it may be–between our scholastic or collegiate terms at this time of year, when the last thing we might want to be doing is reading and studying. Enjoy the holiday parties and rituals, and hold some of your own, I’d advise those who are in a similar boat. And, for those who are not used to making friends with books and libraries and the spirits that haunt them? Make it a point to take a few moments when you’re indoors (from the dark and cold of winter in the Northern Hemisphere; or, a few moments out of the sun and in the shade in the Southern Hemisphere!) to pick up a book or a trusted and vetted internet source and find out more about the specifics of whatever holiday tradition you celebrate, whether of ancient provenance or of more modern vintage, and understand that holidays and the history of them happen in real time, with real people under real circumstances deciding to commemorate the turning of the seasons and the gods associated with them in particular ways. Holy days, not unlike syncretism generally, happen with real people in real historical situations, and it can be a wonderful and indeed important way of honoring the ancestors of your spiritual tradition to find out not only what they did, but what historical circumstances lead them to begin doing so in the ways of which we are now aware so many centuries (or smaller spans of time) from their origins.

Service above Self

Brennos, December 2014

Service above Self

Last night I found myself, once again, in downtown Oakland at a vigil for members of the community that have been killed by the police. This was a rare peaceful moment in the troubles that have been consuming our city lately. People gathered on a cold and rainy December night and encircled Lake Merritt in downtown Oakland for a candlelight vigil to remember these lives that have been cruelly taken from their family and friends, casualties of systemic racism and a police force that is violently opposed to taking responsibility for it’s officers’ misdeeds and crimes. This has been an emotional time for our community here in the Bay Area, a time of anger and a time of mourning. The issue of racism within the law enforcement community doesn’t have an easy fix. It’s not a problem that’s going to go away anytime soon and so the demonstrations continue.

In the last 17 days, there have been 15 nights of demonstrations in the streets. These actions have ranged from peaceful vigils to vandalism and looting. Last night was thankfully a quiet one, a moment of introspection and reflection during a period of unrest and pain. I found myself reflecting on these movements that have been springing up around the world recently. Across the globe, people are standing up to reclaim their sovereignty from systems of rule that seek to compromise it.

A little over two years ago, members of my priesthood, the Coru Cathubodua, and members of our community, stood on the shore of this same lake, holding a beautiful sword that had been charged with our community’s prayers and hopes for the return of sovereignty to our land. The night before was our Samhain feast. The sword was placed on an altar in the center of the room and during the feast people went up to it and held it and whispered their prayers and dreams to it. Prayers of a just land with our community living in rightful relationship with the natural world and with each other. So that morning we stood on the shore of the lake, we raised our voices to the Morrigan and the spirits of the land, and we sacrificed that sword for the sovereignty of the land, throwing it far out into the lake.

Memories of that moment became crystal clear as I was walking along the lake last night in the cold rain. I began reflecting on my path to priesthood that led me there to that lake that morning and led me there again on a windy and wet night. As my mind wandered through these paths I looked down to the sidewalk and in front of me was a section of the path that the city had engraved in flowing letters the phrase “Service above Self”

Service above Self. Three simple words that articulated my views on priesthood better than I have been able to do in pages of writing. For me, priesthood is a path of service. Service to your gods and service to your community. This is not an abstract concept. Service isn’t a theoretical mindset but a ‘get your hands dirty and wear out the soles of your shoes’ kind of endeavor. It’s a path that can consume your life. ‘Priest’ is not a title I hold lightly, as a matter of fact I have trouble seeing it as a title at all. ‘Priest’ is not something that I am, it is something that I do. ‘Priest’ means not going to bed when you are exhausted because the gods are vocal and want offerings and want to be heard. It means spending hours of my day answering emails and questions from individuals that are looking for help decoding their own messages from the gods. It means hours of ritual planning and business meetings. It means daily devotional practice and offerings. Recently for me, priesthood has meant marching alongside and providing first aid and support to people demonstrating in the streets so that they can have their basic human rights returned to them and be treated equally in the eyes of the law. It has meant bandaging cuts, washing pepper spray and tear gas from people’s eyes, and sometimes getting between a demonstrator and police in riot gear to prevent the police from beating that person.

Priesthood and activism are inseparable to me. I was pushed into this most recent act of service to my community after witnessing the officers sworn to protect and serve the public brutalize a peaceful protest and tear gas a large section of my town. That night left many people with broken bones, concussions, and deep outrage at the response of the authorities.

The next night and every night since then I have been walking alongside the demonstrators with a first aid kit trying to help people when I am able to and to provide a witness to the many abuses of the police force that have been sent there to, in their own ironic words, “defend the protester’s first amendment rights”. And they have defended the protesters bloody, with batons, tazers, tear gas, pepper spray, LRAD’s (long range acoustic devices), and “non lethal” projectiles aimed at people’s heads, making them much more lethal. Those charged with defending the people are treating the people as the enemy, abusing them at demonstrations and vilifying them in the media.

So as a priest, I have no choice but to stand alongside my community. I have no choice but to speak out against injustice and abuse. I have no choice but to listen to my goddess and stand for sovereignty. Because priesthood is service; service above self.

 

Brennos is an activist, spirit worker and priest of the Morrigan presently living in Berkeley California. He is one of the founding members of the Coru Cathubodua, a Celtic devotional polytheist priesthood based in the Bay Area. As a priest, he works towards social justice, environmental healing, and sovereignty of the land. He writes on these and other topics on his blog, Strixian Woods.

Sacred Streets

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This article is dedicated to the leaders of the troop, the singers and dancers, actors and pantomimes, writers and musicians, acrobats and magicians, painters, illustrators and sculptors – The Dionysian Artists.

Mille viae ducunt homines per saecula Romam – A thousand roads lead men forever to Rome.

I ponder on this phrase a lot, typically it means: all paths lead to the same destination, but my feelings of it go back further. I like to believe that all roads lead to the founding of civilisation – in a literal sense – in that the streets and roads are the birthplace of our culture particularly through street performance.

In 2008 two hermit artists decided to do something pretty dramatic, well, at least for them. They decided to go out into the streets of a major metropolitan city and draw on the pavement for donations. My partner and I soon discovered the power of the street.

The knowledge and physical wealth that it grants. My perspective of the street changed overnight, no longer did I consider those busking or working on the street to be lowly, instead I quickly develop an admiration and love for the street. Street culture is a fascinating subject, in some ways it’s part of the overall culture but also separate of it. There are unspoken laws, unique slang, obscure subcultures and most importantly unrecognised traditions that can be traced to ancient times. Street performers are often outsiders who don’t follow the social norms that has been expected of them, many are freaks and weirdos, most are extremely talented and either completely mad or incredibly wise, or a bit of both.

In some respects I view busking or street performance as an actual magical rite, performers perform a ritual, they finish and hold out a hat and get money from nowhere. Away from earnings, they transform the commonplace environment of the street into a domain of miracles with feats of disbelief. I have never witnessed such direct and consistent magic like street performance. I don’t think it’s mere coincidence that terms used in reference to magic are similar or identical terms used in art: craft, spell, act, art. It is also interesting that Street Magic is still performed today and in fact many street magicians use tricks, symbols and colours that were used in ancient times.

Through my profession and my own spiritual practice I started witnessing uncanny connections between performance and my beliefs, exploring this subject has resulted in this article.

Ancient Greek religion was unique at the time because unlike some other cultures it was based around household worship, community and polis. In some cases priests were elected from the general population, religious titles and positions were granted to common people. Interacting and communing with the divine was not exclusive to just the elite or ordained priest, everyone was entitled to participate and later there were rites in which even slaves were allowed.

One of the most important and unique developments of this faith was the theatre. I suspect the theatre had humble origins beginning with bards that would travel from town to town reciting epic Homeric stories on the side of the road or in the local agora. As their reputation developed more people would gather on grassy hills to see these bards perform. Slowly these bards incorporated other performers who mimed, danced, played music etc. Over time actors were given lines and the hills were carved out into an amphitheatre. What started as a simple impromptu act by travelling performers turned into an organised community service.

The theatre was not just for entertainment, it held multiple functions as a gathering place. Plays themselves were considered sacred performances, Tragedy is usually consider the foremost important form. The origins of Tragedy was lost in ancient Greece, where scholars like Aristotle and Athenaeus of Naucratis debated the etymology of the word. In general, Tragedy is commonly believed to originate from τραγῳδία trag(o)-aoidiā “goat song” meaning that it may of involved some form of ritual sacrifice. It is agreed that it is related to the god Dionysos. Richard Seaford suggests Tragedy evolved from some form of Satyr play related to the Dionysian mysteries which possibly enacted the death, rebirth of Dionysos – these performances were intense and involved audience participation, the mystery rites later became free for public viewing:

At the Dionysiac festivals the citizens en masse watched the ritual impersonation of myth on the streets, but were excluded from the mystic ritual at the heart of the festival. And so not only was the traditional processional hymn transformed into a scripted stationary hymn under a hillside (so that all could see), but also the irresistibly secret sights of mystic ritual were opened out to the curious gaze of the entire polis. Greek ritual tends to enact its own aetiological myth, and the first tragedies were, I suspect, dramatisations of the aetiological myths enacted in mystery-cult – as was, a century later, the highly traditional Bacchae.” (1)

In some respects the theatre was place of religious observance similar to how one might view a church. The performers were taking on the role of religious spokesmen. By the time fifth century BC Athenian Golden Age of drama playwrights were writing plays with the same themes as the mystery performance but incorporating other tales. So the essence of being confronted with death was still present but transformed into another new narrative to maintain audience enthusiasm.

Also to maintain audience enthusiasm and to prevent them leaving the theatre depressed was the comedies which were performed as intermission plays between the tragedies. These light hearted plays sometimes involved actors dressed as satyrs (with a long red leather phallus around their waist) the plays would parody classical stories. For example the only surviving satyr play, Cyclops by Euripides features Odysseus saving Silenus and his troop of satyrs from the cruelty and sexual molestation of the Cyclops, Polyphemus. Other times they involved a serious debate or dire situation that results in some silly happy ending.

The origins of Comedy appear to be ancient even in classical times. The term comedy is usually considered derived from Kom-oid meaning “party song” and may have had its origins as some silly drunken mockery. Obviously related directly with Dionysian festivals. Compared with tragedy its origins are confusing. It appears that it was imported into Athens via the Dorians in what is called the Dorian farce. Athenian comedy originally seems to be focused on nonsense and impromptu with only a loose story. Dramatic comedy being introduced from Sicily and evolved into a proper narrative as mentioned by Aristotle in Poetics 5.1449b:

The making of tales (i.e. plots) originally came from Sicily, but of the Athenians Crates first began, by discarding the abusive scheme as a whole, to construct stories and tales.” (2)

This is further evident as Athenian Old Comedy writer, Aristophanes references the Dorian Colonies of Magna Graecia in Wasps, for their farces which he considered low-class for its obscene humour, slap stick and sexual themes.

Don’t expect anything profound,
Or any slapstick à la Megara.
And we got no slaves to dish out baskets
Of free nuts—or the old ham scene
Of Heracles cheated of his dinner;
… Our little story
Had meat in it and a meaning not
Too far above your heads, but more
Worth your attention than low comedy.
(3)

Still Aristophanes employed the themes in his comedies. His criticisms appear to be attempts to prop up his own plays over Magna Graecia, where it looks like native writers were the inventors of the first comedic plot.

Old comedy also featured something pretty radical, it was used as a platform to ridicule and lampoon people of importance, such as leaders, nobility and even gender statuses. I consider this the birth of free speech, especially after the theatre became a domain of politics with politicians holding debates or speeches before plays. Regardless, as the art form developed (and possible political problems) comedy became more focused on archetypical stock characters. These characters deviated from anyone in particular and are notable for a lack of mythic or religious figures, instead they are stock characters based on everyday life: courtesans, revellers, parasites, angry cooks and soldiers etc. This is considered Middle Comedy. From here comedy disappeared from history in Greece as none of the play survived, until it had a resurgence during the reign of Alexander as New Comedy.

However the Italians had a different sense of humour to the Athenians and maintained and expanded the traditions of comedy. An especially fascinating aspect is found in Tarentum (Taranto) where comedy was incorporated into female initiation rites and was performed for girls entering maidenhood:

Rhinthon, who was born in Syracuse but worked in Taras/Tarentum, has earned the reputation of expanding the genre of tragi-comedy, subverting some of the Attic conventions. It is very likely that his plays were performed in the theater at Locri, and the presence of a phlyax figure in the Grotta suggests that Locrian women enjoyed the sophistication and wit he represents.

[…] There may have been actual theatrical performances in the cave: among the votive objects were miniature models of the Grotta on which curtains were carved in relief. Terracotta figurines of comic actors and musicians, along with masks, indicate the importance of the theater to the votaries. The chiaroscuro mix of the serious and the comic, like the interplay between death and life, would be appropriate for the rituals in a nymphaeum.” (4)

(Again returning back to what Seaford mentions about satyr plays and mystery rites.)

The comedy in Italy of utmost importance in this essay as it is the link between classical comedy and the Middle-Age Commedia dell’Arte. The stock characters found in Middle comedy in Greece are direct precursors to the future Harlequin and Pierrot (which will be discussed later).

Before and after Alexander, performing troops became highly respected in Greece. It appears that they were formalised into an official professional guild called, Dionysiakoi Technitai (Artists of Dionysos) where they were granted unprecedented privileges. The Debate, On the False Embassy, 348 BC, specifically states that the first two ambassadors from Athens to negotiate peace with Philip II were tragic actors and poets:

Aristodemos and Neoptolemos were Tragic actors. Because of their profession these men had safe-conduct to go wherever they wished, even into enemy territory.” (5)

Phillip’s high regard for these actors was seen as corruption by critics in Athens, even going as far as claiming the actors were serving their own interests over the city’s. Of a particular note Neoptolemos sung a tragic ode to Phillip the night before his daughter’s wedding, which was later seen as an ill omen. It was during the wedding that Phillip was assassinated in the theatre. (While no links are found in history, I love fantasying of a conspiracy by the actors.)

By 279 BC a Delphic decree by the Athenian state was written in marble granting these artists immunity within all Greece: any harm, taxation or conscription was forbidden against them. (6) These marbles were followed up with a number of congratulatory awards naming performers and those that worked for the Technitai including carpenters, prop makers and background artists. In The Context of Ancient Drama by Eric Csapo & William Slater they claim that this organisation was the first trade union. However I feel that because the guild appears to have its own internal autonomous government structure, which was completely apart from any other state government, it was more akin to the Papal State. This is evident in the Delphic decrees as they emphasis religious services performed by the Technitai moreover than their acting abilities. To return back to the Mysteries cults of Greece, there are strong ties within these rites and performance. The Technitai would had been the ones that performed the sacred plays and also the ones that knew all the mysteries. They were not mere actors, but diplomats, spies and the highest priests of the time. Their power became so prominent they were allowed to wear distinctive clothing and regal items to prove their association to the guild and also their authority, including purple robes, crowns and golden jewels bearing their insignia.

Perhaps it is completely unrelated, but in less than one hundred years after the Delphic decree Rome outlawed and committed a massive purge of the Dionysian cult in 186 BC with declaration of the senatus consultum de Bacchanalibus. Livy wrote a fantastical account for the reason why in History of Rome (7), claiming that members of the cult were performing evil nocturnal rites that involved either extorting or killing nobility to gain their inheritance with an intended conspiracy against the Republic. I wonder if the Technitai (who were the Dionysian cult) was the real threat behind this drastic action? Whatever the case, the Technitai continued to exist throughout Roman imperialism even into Christian times. What humbly begun on the streets in time became a powerful international organisation.

Apart from the organisation of the Dionysiakoi Technitai there were also independent street performers throughout Greece and Rome. With exception of the laws mentioned from the Twelve Tables and some minor laws preventing ranked Roman officers and members of the senate from viewing or participating, these performers appeared to be free to perform wherever.

They may of even been supported by the state to please the mob during festivals. A distinctive trait of these travelling performers was the Phylakes stage, a portable stage made of boards that allowed actors, poets and dancers to perform. This mobility allowed them to follow the rustic Dionysian processions that would spread out from the cities after religious festivals. While their performances may of copied classical plays these street actors are most often mentioned for their crass and lewd comedic performances.

Of interest, these independent performers also did other forms of street performance such as street magic, Alciphron of Athens (unknown date, possibly between 170 and 350 CE) is one of the few that records the classic cups and balls routine. He mentions being “rendered speechless and gaped with surprise” as he watched a street performer:

A man came forward and placed on a three-legged table three small dishes, under which he concealed some little white round pebbles. These he placed one by one under the dishes, and then, I do not know how, he made them all appear all together under one.

At other times he made them disappear from beneath the dishes and showed them in his mouth. Next, when he had swallowed them, he brought those who stood nearest him into the middle, and then pulled one stone from the nose, another from the ear, and another from the head of the man standing near him.

Finally he caused the stones to vanish from the sight of everyone. He is a most dexterous fellow and even beyond Eurybates of Oechalia, of whom we heard so much.” (8)

(Note: Eurybates of Oechalia is a famous thief mentioned in previous letters)

There are few classical sources of these performers with only vague references in law and mention of preference for performers to set up on crossroads or outside places of worship. Crossroads were a place of mystery for Ancient people and associated with the gods Hermes and Hekate. Two divinities of magic, chthonic gods as guide and guard of the dead. (Hermes is also inclusive of travel, begging, rustic performance, con-men, thieves, trade and money.)
Here is where I start to wonder if these people were not just performers for entertainment purposes but played a role as a poor man’s celebrant and priest? Was street magic enough proof by performers to act as a charlatan and quack doctor?
Plato is quite critical of what he describes as so called Orphic priests:

Begging priests and prophets frequent the doors of the rich and persuade them that they possess a god–given power founded on sacrifices and incantations.” (9)

The Orphic cult itself is based around the legendary traveling musician and prophet of Dionysos, Orpheus, who ventured into hades to free his beloved from death. While in the realm he witnessed the mysteries of death and after failing in his original task went about teaching the mysteries in what would become Orphism. The traditions, myths and rituals differ from time, place and possibly priest, but there is a shared concept that those initiated into its mysteries are free from continual reincarnation of mortality and are able to enjoy an eternity feasting with gods and other initiated.

An interesting aspect of this cult are the gold leaf tablets or scrolls left with the dead that instruct the soul of the correct destination to be free of reincarnation. These tablets have been found all over the Hellenistic world from Thrace, to Sicily and Crete, all share similar characteristics, however some are poorly made while others are elaborate. The most amateur tablets feature spelling mistakes, incorrect instructions, some are simply blank. Is this proof of hacks jumping on the band wagon to fool a grieving family after the loss of a loved one? Were these hacks travelling performers who proved their power with parlour tricks? I can only guess.

An aspect of ancient funeral rites, especially in Italy was that funerals were not solemn, at least not how they are in the west now. Livy actually marks the year 328 BC for two significant events, the founding of the colony at Fregellae and the meat served at the funeral of the mother of M. Flavius. (10) Funerals were used by Romans to demonstrate the wealth and power of the family after the death, they would involve massive public feasts, games and performance.

Apart from politics funerals were a celebration of life and performers found themselves in the role of celebrates where they lead a triumphant procession of the body to the tomb – the tomb itself was often elaborately decorated with Dionysian scenes. Festivals, performances and tombs are reassurances for the living, to prove that life after death is a good thing. Plays aided in that distraction. When viewing or participating both audience and actors have to remove themselves from their current situation and identity. One must suspend their thoughts to comprehend the “fantasy” in front of them, performance in itself is a form of release. What better way to recover from grief then be submerged within a fantasy. To return back to the independent street performers, did they involve themselves in these funeral performances or offer their services to rural folk too?

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An interesting point by Dionysian polytheist author, H. Jeremiah Lewis (11) is the colour schemes shared with street performance throughout history and also magical ritual in classical times, particularly in regards to Orphism. White, red and black are colours that make up a dusky dark cloak worn by Medea in the Orphic Argonautika in Greek it is called: ὄρφνῐνος orphninos. The colours are also mentioned in a Bulgarian healing ritual where each are related to the varying realms of heaven, earth and the underworld. Much later times the colours are worn by harlequins, clowns and street magicians in what was originally street shows, the Middle-Age Commedia dell’Arte. I suspect that the colour scheme goes as far as the Greek theatre mask.

Unfortunately the masks were made of organic plant stuffs, similar to papier-mâché thus none have survived history. But I believe they were painted with white for the flesh, black around the eyes and eyebrows and red for the lips. A good example of this is the modern ‘French’ mimes with face paint that is outlined around the jaw and chin with black, black around the eyebrows and eyes, white over the face and red on the lips and sometimes cheeks. Mimes also earn their name from Pantomimes which comes from the ancient theatre as “imitates all” meaning they spoke, danced, played music etc. The silent aspect of their performance was a later addition.

Harlequin is first attested to Orderic Vitalis in the 11th century, where he claims he was haunted by a troop of demons led by a black masked giant named familia harlequin, a description that reminds me a lot of satyrs, Pan and the retinue of Dionysos. By the time of the Renaissance the Harlequin evolved into a stock fool character for plays as either a servant of the devil or the devil himself. Noted for despite his large appearance he is nimble physically as his role often involved some form of foolery and acrobatics.
Clowns are the most ancient performers known with references of clown characters found in ancient Egypt royal courts, 4500 years ago. (12) A fascinating aspect of the clown is that they have a long history of being associated with priests and healers, in some cases the role was actually filled by a member of the priestly caste. Anthropologists relate clowns to the Heyoka, with many Native American tribes considering clown shamanic powers to be the most powerful. The shaman healing aspect is not unique to Native American’s, similar roles are found in shamanic traditions of Europe, Africa and Asia too.

Even now modern Clown doctors can be found mentioned in medical essay’s for their effectiveness recognised in western medicine, proven by performers like Patch Adams, Hunter Doherty:

Their activities include entertaining bored children and mothers in crowded outpatient clinic waiting rooms, distracting anxious families in inner-city emergency rooms, comforting parents of children in intensive care units, and distracting small AIDS or cancer patients during painful and frightening procedures. They spread joy and mayhem wherever children might be found in what is otherwise an environment not designed with children in mind.” (13)

Of course with associations with healing comes also the chthonic relationship too. Shamanic practices often cite clowns as either scaring off or being possessed by the dead. No doubt being linked with illness and healing would lead to this.

The modern appearance possibly originates from the Italian Commedia dell’Arte, as the Pierrot (foolish victim) or Pulcinella stock characters usually dressed in white, loose robes, sometimes with red frills around the neck. In a classical context Pierrot, akin to the mime, fits nicely into the description of the chorus in most Greek plays, typically they were white robed and wore plain masks. The chorus sometimes plays a shamanic role as an intermediary between actors and audience, thereby breaking through the Fourth wall.

As the circus developed in more modern times clowns adapted into what we know of today. An interesting result of pop culture and connections with figures like John Wayne Gacy (and attacking clowns in France this year) clowns have once again regained their associations with death and despite positive work in hospitals performances featuring clowns are being cancelled, some even feature warnings for people who suffer coulrophobia. (14)

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Street Magicians appear to be an art form that has barely changed throughout history. (As already mentioned by Alciphron’s account.) The Conjurer by Hieronymus Bosch (1502), features a street magician performing a similar trick as the cups and balls, in the painting the magician wears black and red attire (akin to the Harlequin) and holds up a snail shell instead of a ball. The second central character is a man dressed in white and red (akin to the Pierrot?) who appears to be a gasping in shock at the trick. While difficult to see in most reproductions online, he actually has a frog coming out of his mouth, symbolising loss of reason and succumbing to animal instincts of disbelief, a foolish victim. Art commentators often mention how Bosch uses these two figures to deceive the viewer as their clothing draws the eye, a casual viewer can easily miss the thief stealing the victims coin purse to the far left.

The overall theme of the painting is attributed to Flemish proverbs:

“He who lets himself be fooled by conjuring tricks loses his money and becomes the laughing stock of children.”

“No one is so much a fool as a wilful fool.”

The criminal association is not just found with Bosch and these proverbs, other Middle-age commentators are critical of street performance and sort it being banned. Classical theatre was outlawed by Emperor Justinian in the sixth century and thereafter performance was viewed by Christian leaders as being a pagan act, equating it to other criminal activity such as thievery and prostitution. The English parliament of King Henry IV even partly blamed street performers for rebellion in Wales:

No westours and rimers, minstrels or vagabonds, be maintained in Wales… Who by their divination, lies and exhortation are partly cause for insurrection and rebellion now in Wales.” (15)

These fears of street performance continue into the modern age by the authorities, especially in Europe, where there is an increased of anti-social laws in public spaces – despite social studies reporting busking activity actually decreasing crime rates and establishing a sense of safety to the public. (15)

Modern street performers cannot be generalised easily. They are made up entirely by individuals that do things their own way, each with an unique act. They are not sponsored or funded by any other business than their own, yet a good number travel around the world each year living in perpetual summer. Some are professionally trained from world famous circus groups, others are self-taught or trained in a sort of apprenticeship. Their skills are acquired through practice, hard work and failure. Apart from learning their tricks they also learn to master the act of engaging with the public, a task that is quite difficult. I’m often amazed not just by their act but how they gather crowds. You can see their charisma at work when they start out as some funny looking person standing in the middle of the street yelling like a madman, to being the centre of attention of a hundred or more people in less than ten minutes. The most experienced performers make this look simple, however when you see the beginners you realise just how difficult it is to stop people for a moment to watch.

In regards to traditions, many street performers still follow the customs of the circus, even if they’re not conscious of it. Of note: those I’ve watched often wear red, black and white. I asked one performer why he chose to wear the colours and he informed me that apart from being attention grabbing, they are colours he is comfortable performing in.

While some may have forgotten their historical backgrounds street performers still maintain the Dionysian spirit, not just in their occupation and travelling lifestyle. Currently there are several organisations established by street performers with aims of fighting the constricting laws in cities around the world that prevent free speech and performance in public. In many cases they are succeeding against a system that affects everyone’s right to freely express themselves. Often these organisations are the only ones that are fighting these issues and bringing light to these invasive laws that are passed through government without media acknowledgement. To that extent they are like the technitai as ambassadors between the public and government.

We live in a world entrenched in so much information that is provided to us by corporate businesses, governments and politically bent media. Rarely do we get to see an individual’s perspective of the world, especially an individual that has resisted the set expectations of what culture presumes of them. Performers prove that we can be free, that anyone can make their own life on the street not only with dignity but also admiration. From my own perspective the service I provide is paid for not only with generous donations from the people, but also the incredible support and encouragement that is constantly shown to me while I work. In times where I’m feeling a bit dishearten by what is happening around me, it’s always beautiful to realise that the horrors in the world are mere minorities to the kindness of the majority.

To finally finish this piece I would like to quote Owen Lean , a street performer, from the Busker Hall of Fame:

We live in a society where we have repressed a lot of our animal instincts in striving for order – yet inside of us that animal is screaming and fighting to get out, and every now and again we need that release.

This is what street performance does. We, the busker, stand right in the centre of the urban environment, right in the middle of this 9-5 world of straight lines and literally pull our audience out of it for twenty minutes and we do our job right, turn them into children again, allowing you to experience a different world, a world where the rules are broken, and where you’re not only allowed but actively encouraged to play.” (17)

 

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Sources:

1 Richard Seaford, Dionysos; 90

2 Section 3: Ancient Greek Comedy, Chapter 8: Early Greek Comedy and Satyr Plays
http://www.usu.edu/markdamen/ClasDram/chapters/081earlygkcom.htm

3 Trans. P. Dickinson, Oxford U.P, Plays; 171

4 Bonnie MacLachlan , Kore as Nymph, not Daughter:Persephone in a Locrian Cave
http://www.stoa.org/diotima/essays/fc04/MacLachlan.html

5 / 6 Eric Csapo & William Slater, The Context of Ancient Drama; 233, 244

The 279 BC Delphi Degree:
It was decided by the Amphictyons and the hieromnemones and the agoratroi: In order for all time the technitai in Athens may have freedom from seizure (asylia) and from taxation, and that no one may be apprehended from anywhere in war or in peace or their goods seized, but that they may have freedom from taxation and immunity accorded to them surely by all of Greece, the technitai are to be free of taxes for military service on land or sea and all special levies, so that honours and sacrifices for which the technitai are appointed may be performed for the gods at appropriate times, seeing that they are apolitical (apolypragmoneton) and consecrated to the services of the gods: let it be permitted to no one to make off with the technitai either in war or in peace or to take reprisals against them, provided that they have contracted no debt with the city as debtors, or are under no obligation for a private contract. If anyone acts contrary to this, let him be liable before the Amphictyons, both he himself and the city in which the offence was committed against the technitai. The freedom from taxation and security that has been granted by the Amphictyons is to belong for all time to the technitai at Athens, who are apolitical. The secretaries are to inscribe this decree on a stone slab and set it up in Delphi, and to send to the Athenians a sealed copy of this decree, so that the technitai may know that the Amphictyons have the greatest respect for their piety towards the gods and adhering to the requests of the technitai and shall try also for the future to safeguard this for all time and in addition to increase any other privilege they have on behalf of the Artists of Dionysus. Ambassadors: Artydamas, poet of tragedies, Neoptolemos, tragic actor.

7 Livy, History of Rome, Book XXXIX
http://www.fordham.edu/halsall/ancient/livy39.asp

8 The Letters of Alciphron via Christopher Milbourne , Magic: A Picture History

9 Plato, Republic 363c; 364a–365b

10 Edited by Bettina Bergmann and Christine Kondoleon, National Gallery of Art, Washington, The Art of Ancient Spectacle; 259

11 http://thehouseofvines.com/2014/01/27/confirmation-of-a-taboo/
http://thehouseofvines.com/2014/01/27/puppies/

12 Michael Bala, Jung Journal: Culture & Psyche Volume 4Issue 1, 2010, The Clown An Archetypal Self-Journey

13 Linda Miller Van Blerkom, Clown Doctors: Shaman Healers of Western Medicine

14 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clown#Fear_of_clowns

15 (Jusserand 1950, 113) via Kalli R. Fullerton, Street Performers and the sense of place.

16 Susie J. Tanenbaum, Underground Harmonies: Music and Politics in the Subway of New York

17 http://buskerhalloffame.com/the-story/contributors/owen-lean/why-were-necessary/

More info:
http://buskerhalloffame.com/
http://blog.buskr.com/

Image info:

1 Theatrical masks of Tragedy and Comedy.
Roman artwork
2nd century CE.
Public Domain
Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:TragicComicMasksHadriansVillamosaic.jpg

2 Ooooh I’m a Mime
Tyler Mestas
11 May 2013
CC copyright
Source: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ooooh_I%27m_a_Mime.jpg

3 The Conjurer
Hieronymus Bosch
1496 – 1529
Public Domain Image
Source: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Hieronymus_Bosch_051.jpg

4 Shove tuesday (Pierot and Harlequin)
Paul Cézanne
1888
Public Domain Image
Source: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Paul_C%C3%A9zanne_060.jpg

 

A special thanks to H. Jeremiah Lewis (Sannion) for introducing me to this subject and his continual free publication and research found on his blog: thehouseofvines.com