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dissertation entitled

The Role of Metamorphosis

in Greco-Roman Religious Thought

presented by

David Walter Leinweber

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THE ROLE OF METAMORPHOSIS IN
GREGG-ROMAN RELIGIOUS THOUGHT

By

David Walter Leinweber

A DISSERTATION

Submitted to
Michigan State University
in partial fulfillment of the requirements
for the degree of

DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
Department of History

1992

 

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ABSTRACT
THE ROLE OF METAMORPHOSIS IN
GRECO-ROMA RELIGIOUS THOUGHT
By

David Walter Leinweber

This work traces beliefs in metamorphosis which manifest a commonality in the
diverse milieu of Greco-Roman religion. Metamorphosis was the idea that an external
religious power could fundamentally change some or all of the human condition’s basic
limitations. Metamorphosis beliefs were manifested in a variety of ways, including
folklore beliefs in shape-shifting, transformation of perspectives which occurred through
ecstatic states, healing, rejuvenation through blood, and the resurrection of the dead. The
prevalence of such ideas is abundantly attested in literary and archaeological sources.

No work has focused exclusively on the role of Metamorphosis in later ancient
religion. In doing so, this thesis argues that metamorphosis should be given a more central
role in studies of the various "Hellenistic" religions. Metamorphosis should be seen as an
element which helped to attract the diverse peOples who found spiritual satisfaction in the
newer faiths. Hence this thesis also provides support for the early twentieth century work
of scholars like Franz Cumont, A.D. Nock, and Gilbert Murray, who all emphasized

human spirituality as an important causal factor in the diffusion of the new cults. The

David Walter Leinweber

metamorphosis, in all of its various guises, promised hope to many inhabitants of the

ancient world. It was one of the greatest common themes of a profoundly religious age.

We returned to our places,

these kingdoms.

But no longer at ease there,

in the old dispensation,

with an alien peOple worshipping their gods.

T.S. Eliot

The Journey of the Magi

iv

 

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

 

 

 

INTRODUCTION ................................................................................................................ 1

CHAPTER 1

SHAPE-SHIPTING METAMORPHOS IS ........................................................................... 23
Werewolves ............................................................................................................... 38
Conclusion ................................................................................................................. 49

CHAPTER 2

ECSTATIC METAMORPHOSIS ........................................................................................ 58
Authoritarian Trance in Witchcraft and Folklore .................................................... 51
Trance and Metamorphosis in Paganism ................................................................. 63
Ecstatic Metamorphosis in Early Christianity ......................................................... 90
Conclusion ................................................................................................................. 107

CHAPTER 3

HEALING METAMORPHOSIS AND DREAM CULTURE ............................................ 109

CHAPTER 4

REGENERATIVE METAMORPHOSIS THROUGH BLOOD ......................................... 143
Life andSacrifice ..................................................................................................... 144
13100d and Life ........................................ - -- ........................... 150
BIOOd/Life in Magic and Sorcery ............................................................... 158

 

 

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CHAPTER 4 (cont’d.)

Sacred Meals and Blood: Mithras and Christianity ................................................. 166
Conclusion ................................................................................................................. 181
CHAPTER 5
DEIFICATION AND THE RESURRECTION .................................................................. 183
CHAPTER 6
CONCLUSION ..................................................................................................................... 230
BIBLIOGRAPHY ................................................................................................................. 234

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INTRODUCTION

This is the history of an idea: the metamorphosis. In both Greek and in Latin, the
word metamorphosis means transformation, as it does in English. Transformation is one
of the greatest gifts which any religion can offer its adherents. Without it, any religion’s
survival would be hard. Transformation strikes the most deeply personal chord in human
beings, and promises the most compelling kind of religious hope: that the human
condition can be changed in fundamental and meaningful ways. This is the great appeal
which the world’s successful religions offer their deVOtees. One cannot account for the
tremendous success of the Greco-Roman faiths, and ultimately Christianity, without
careful consideration of metamorphosis.

This thesis outlines and explores the major strands of metamorphosis which can
be said to have existed in Greco-Roman religion. In doing so, it takes the Metamorphoses
of Apuleius as its prime source of inspiration. The work is sometimes remembered for
its more tawdry episodes—although even these provide invaluable glimpses into ancient
popular culture. But the fable told by Apuleius is much more than just an ancient piece
of compelling albeit dubious literary entertainment. Alongside such significant works as
the New Testament, Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey, and Hesiod’s T heogony, the

Metamorphoses is one of the greatest literary sources for ancient occidental religious

 

 

 

 

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history. Its title was apt, for the novel synthesized the two greatest extremes of
metamorphosis which religion and folklore could offer. These were, respectively,
fundamental transformation of the body and mind.

In its early books, The Golden Ass—as Apuleius’s Metamorphoses is commonly
called—deals with metamorphosis of the body. The chief protagonist Lucius is turned into
an ass after dabbling in sorcery. Such transformations characterized classic folklore
accounts of shape-shifting which figured heavily into western notion of witches and
shape-shifting. (During these same early passages of the novel, the great sorceress Panthia
also turned herself into an owl, or an owl-like creature.) Lucius’ plight, with his
unfortunate metamorphosis into the shape of an ass, was clearly perceived as the
consequences of his dabbling in the fiendish and murky world of the ancient occult. This
shape-shifting account typifies a frequent form of religious or supernatural
metamorphosis—a supernatural power which could change the body’s shape, its most
basic physical attribute.

The end of Apuleius’ novel has a more abstract form of metamorphosis. After
having endured many trials and tribulations in ass form, Lucius is restored human shape
by the goddess Isis. This was a reversal of the simpler shape-shifting metamorphosis
which had occurred earlier in the novel. But this restoration of human shape was
accompanied by a metamorphosis of more spiritual proportions. Having regained his
human shape, Lucius’ spirit was also transformed. He became a fervent devotee of Isis,
was initiated into the mysteries, and commenced to live a more enlightened and pure life.

This transformation of Lucius’ inner-self was fully as significant as the transformation of

 

 

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his physical shape. Hence, Apuleius’ Metamorphoses takes us full circle. The conversion
of Lucius fully entails his entire being. In the beginning of the novel, a man was turned
into a beam. By the novel’s end, a beast has been turned into a man. In this, the
metamorphosis described in The Golden Ass was one of the most profound and
fundamentally transcending religious experiences which antiquity could offer to its
citizenry.

Expanding on the metamorphosis described in Apuleius, this thesis seeks more
fully explore to the role which metamorphosis played in ancient religions—ranging from
the simple shifting of the body’s shape to the abstract transformation of the inner-self. To
develop a manageable tOpic, I have selected the most representative manifestations of
metamorphosis for closer examination. The success of the Greco—Roman cults—success
which often came at the expense of the older, more venerable religions of the "classical"
world—were in part fueled by a belief in metamorphosis—by the belief that the human
being could basically change, or be changed. Sometimes the desired ends of this change
were merely enhanced power, as in many of the simple shape-shifting folklore tales
discussed in chapter one. At a more elevated level, however, metamorphosis sought less
nefarious or carnal ends. There was the belief that the human consciousness could be
enlightened, which often occurred in the context of ecstatic states. Chapter two focuses
on these ecstatic states, and the role which they played in transforming the human spirit.
Metamorphosis ideas are also prevalent in the many healing cults of later antiquity --

notably that of the Greek medicinal god, Asklepios. Here, the role of dreams in

 

 

 

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harnessing divine powers was as familiar as that of ecstasy had been in transforming the
vofig. This is the focus of chapter three.

The other forms of metamorphosis discussed here were concerned with nothing
less than the fundamental essence of human life itself: the belief that both the mind and
the body could, through religious means, reach a fundamentally perfected state. Such
concepts took on a variety of forms. It was believed that blood had regenerative powers,
a subject addressed by the fourth chapter. Blood was considered a potent liquid capable
of transforming life itself, offering both rejuvenation and revivification. Finally, the notion
that men and women could become god is explored in the fifth and final chapter. This
was a sophisticated reversal of the notion inherent in the Metamorphoses’ early chapters:
that men and women could become beasts. It was arguably the most enlightened and
greatest development of ancient religious history. It appears in two distinct ways. First,
Emperor worship was a rather new touch in occidental religious culture. Second, the
greatest metamorphosis belief of all, the resurrection of the dead, appeared In this
particularly compelling belief system were combined all the great themes of ancient
metamorphosis into one composite whole. The risen believer was given both a
transformed body and a transformed spirit. The human essence, with all its psychological
quirks and physical foibles, was forever transformed. Metamorphosis was one of ancient
religion’s greatest developments, and one of its most powerful ideas. >

This thesis frequently employs terms which need to be carefully defined. Several

terms will be defined as they appear in the text. Others appear with sufficient regularity

to warrant their careful consideration at the outset. The first such term is "religion," a

 

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term often used and seldom considered. "Religion" derives from the Latin word religio,
which generically refers to scrupulousness, or moral steadfasmess. Religio came to take
on sacred overtones, connoting a holy alliance between a human being and the gods, or
God. The word, however, did not initially include the necessary supernatural component
with which it is often imbued today. This work defines religion as the practical
application of some philosophy to one’s life. In the interests of focusing on a more
narrow range of issues, I have not included discussion of "quasi-religious" philosophies
such as rationalism, cynicism, stoicism and epicureanism, though consideration of these
schools of thought would provide many useful new insights into a more expansive work
on metamorphosis. For our purposes here, I have limited the definition of religion to
forms of belief specifically involving the agency of some external and supernatural force.
My work includes consideration of not only “traditional“ Greco-Roman religions, ranging
from the Homeric Pantheon to Christianity, but folklore as well.

The distinction between folklore and "traditional" Greco-Roman religions must be
considered, too. I make this conceptual distinction by distinguishing between "popular"
religion, and "formal" religion. In using terms like folklore, popular culture or petty
religion, this thesis generally refers to such topics as witchcraft and magic. In his useful
work The Religions of the Roman Empire, John Ferguson distinguishes between magic
and religion, arguing that magic involves a series of rituals which if "correct in every

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Ferguson argues, the result depends upon the will of the gods.1 Ialso assert that popular
religions generally lacked the centralized and hierarchical orders of priests and priestesses
which usually characterized the more traditional religions.

There are gray areas between these two gaps, of course. Folklore aspects of magic
and witchcraft clearly re-appear in the more formal brands of Greco-Roman religion.
Hecate, for example, was a major and, I would argue, "formal" deity in ancient religion.
But while Hecate was a relatively significant figure from classical Greek religion in her
own right, she also lent her considerable influence to the various forms of "goddess"
worship which characterized much Hellenistic religion, e.g. Isis, Diana/Artemis, Atargatis,
and others. Nonetheless, Hecate appeared as a major figure in many "popular" religious
accounts. She was clearly the patron goddess of many of the nightwitch beings discussed
in the body of this text. Similarly, religions which became more or less "formal"
invariably stemmed from popular religion. The cult of Dionysus which Euripides
described in Bacchae is clearly popular, informal religion. Yet the sect of Dionysus
became a major religion with more formal overtones linkages to the old Olympic
Pantheon. New Testament Christianity is popular religion as well. Indeed, events such as
the trial of Christ, or the trial of Socrates, can be seen as classic confrontation between

' popular and formal religion. While such gray regions between popular and formal religion
do not always make for seamless categories, my thesis generally tries clearly and

explicitly to distinguish between folklore and formal religion.

 

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University Press, 1970), 158-59.

 

 

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Another clarification which must be made is the distinction between what have
traditionally been labelled "oriental" cults, and "occidental" cults. In exploring aspects of
metamorphosis, this thesis focuses much on the so-called "Hellenistic" religions,
sometimes referred to as "oriental" religions. While the term "oriental" generally has
fallen out of fashion, I do, on occasion, use it as another adjective for "eastern." The term
"oriental religions" merely connotes those religions whose origins were neither Greek nor
Roman, but the older cultures which lay to the East: Hebrew, MeSOpotamian, Persian, and
Egyptian. I make no qualitative judgement about these cultures or their religions, as did
Cumont, whose work will be discussed below. Neither do I consider the neolithic origins
of many of these beliefs, which would no doubt considerably muddy the waters of the
more clearly defined cultures of the historical era. In later antiquity—-the twilight
centuries of the Hellenistic and Imperial eras—the more regional beliefs of the old
religions were mixed into a cosmopolitan stew. The lines separating what had once been
definable as Greek, Roman, Egyptian, and Mesopotamian religions were thinner.

Aspects of metamorphosis occur in every ancient religion with which I am
familiar. In the interests of creating a manageable topic, and fashioning a representative
collage of ancient religious life, I have focused on select religions. This includes, of
course, some discussion of the old "Olympian" religion traditionally associated with
Classical Greece. Though the heyday of the Olympian deities can be said, generally, to
be prior to my period of focus, it is impossible to engage in any meaningful discussion
of Hellenistic or Greco-Roman religions without requisite consideration of classical

antecedents. As mentioned earlier, my thesis also considers the record of folklore-—

 

 

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magic, witchcraft, and "popular" religion. Here metamorphosis themes are particularly
abundant, and hint at many similar notions from formal Greek religion. Other religions
given consideration here are those of Dionysus, Mithras, Asklepios, the Hellenistic
Egyptian faiths, and Christianity.

My inclusion of Christianity into this religious milieu also warrants clarification.
Largely because of modern considerations, serious study of Christianity has sometimes
been ghettoized into seminaries, or parochial education. Part of this exclusion is certainly
understandable. Christianity is Still a living faith, while most other ancient religions are
not. To the extent that I am able, I have tried to strip away two thousand years of
Christendom, and look at Christianity with the same sort of distance with which I
examine other religions. Since the assumption of my thesis is that metamorphosis was
essentially a positive thing in most of its manifestations, I speak well of Christianity, as
I do many of the other ancient Greco-Roman religions. I am not out to praise Christianity.
But above all, what I do not want to do is mindlessly to denigrate Christianity, or to take
the easiest and commonest route of all, which is to ignore Christianity. Its version of
religious metamorphosis was too powerful to ignore, and too much a part of the larger
context of ancient religions. Christianity is a sensitive subject in a way that the religions
which died with antiquity are not, but that fact must not dissuade serious scholars from
considering it along with the other religions of the day.

In terms of periodization, the religious upon which this work focuses are primarily
a product of the great religiously diverse age which flourished between the death of

Alexander the Great, and the rise of Christian orthodoxy in the Roman Empire. This age,

 

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as ephemeral as its specific dates may be, has elicited some of the twentieth century’s
greatest works of religious scholarship. Too, it has elicited a major debate among
historians regarding the nature of the religious conversion which occurred Specifically,
the debate has focused on the role of personal spirituality in the new faiths. This can
generally be said to contrast with the work of a breed of more recent historians who tend
to explain away great religious movements as emanating from social, psychological, or
even economic forces.

Three of these earlier historians have provided particular inspiration for the
approach used here: Franz Cumont, Gilbert Murray, and AD. Nock. The strength of all
these historians was their ability to synthesize the diverse data emanating from later
antiquity’s various religions and produce compelling and digested theoretical arguments.
They are particularly relevant to this work on two counts. Firsr, all had special sensitivity
to the uniquely diverse religious age which bridged the gap between the ancient
"classical" world and Christendom. Second, they had a sensitivity to human spirituality
which sometimes has seemed lacking in the modern and the post-modem ages. When I
discuss the significance of metamorphosis in providing appealing ideas to spiritually
hungry individuals, I am echoing the work of these earlier historians—their emphasis
upon the importance of religious ideas and their attraction to individuals on a personal
level.

Franz Cumont’s Les Religions Orientales dans la Paganism romaine remains one
of the most influential and important works on ancient religion ever produced. With

prodigious research ability, Cumont’s interpretative skills made him truly noteworthy. His

 

 

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notions of "orientalism" supplanting occidentalism hint at later French intellectual schools,
notably that of Braudelian mentalité. In Les Religions Orientales, Cumont argued that the
incoming oriental cults were freshly exotic replacements for what were increasingly
perceived as dry and cold ancient faiths.2 Sometimes Cumont’s thinking involved a too
simplistic dichotomy between orientalism and occidentalism. Nonetheless, the more basic
tenets of his 1905 thesis remain still provocative: that the traditional indigenous faiths of
Greece and Italy had become Stale. As staid replicas of their former selves, the old
religions had become dryly interwoven with the mechanical formalities of civic-state
devotion and the cynicism of much "classical" culture. Cumont even argues that Rome
offered absolutely norhing to the East—an idea which is difficult to take seriously, though
it could be argued that Rome offered far more in terms of social administration than in
powerful religious ideas.

Against the backdrop of the dead and dying faiths of Greece and Rome, Cumont’s
oriental religions proved an irresistible force. Facilitated by the increased trade and
increasingly cosmopolitan economy of the Hellenistic world, the old faiths of Egypt,
Syria, Persia, Asia Minor and Other regions in the Ancient Near East mingled with those
of western conquerors to produce truly compelling new cults, or hellenized versions of
old cults: Sarapis and Isis, Cybele and Attis, Mithras, Atargatis, and literally hundreds of

others.

 

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Cumont’s emphasis on orientalism was fascinating, but problematic. More
important was his emphasis on personal spiritual needs. Cumont failed to connect the
great conversion in aggregate Spiritual life to any "secular" or social cause. The great
transformation in Greco-Roman religion arose nor from impersonal socio-economic forces,
military conquest or political coercion. Rather, he argued that the new cults prevailed over
the old ones simply because they were more successful at satisfying basic human spiritual
needs. In the eyes of this writer, Cumont’s acknowledgement of humanity’s inherent
religious needs constitutes his greatest legacy.

What Cumont also understood was that the era he was describing was an utterly
unique period in ancient religious history. This was the very period explored by AD.
Nock in his significant work Conversion: The Old and the New in Religion from
Alexander the Great to Augustine of Hippo. Here, Nock chronicled the great religious
transformation which so profoundly affected the culture and society of later antiquity.
Appropriately quoting "Man does not live by bread alone," Nock also stressed religion’s
importance in casting light on "many of the impulses which lie below the level of
consciousness."3 Like Cumont, Nock emphasized the attraction which the new cults,
many oriental, wielded for the inhabitants of the Hellenistic and Imperial worlds. He
made useful distinctions between types of religion. First, there were traditional beliefs,
wearing both formal and informal guises. Such beliefs informed any social unit’s world

view. In antiquity’s early millennia, most of these belief systems were fairly localized.

 

3 Nock, Arthur Darby, Conversion: The Old and New in Religion from Alexander the
Great to Augustine of Hippo, (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1933), 1-2.

 

 

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Any group invariably develops religious or superstitious views concerning such basic
topics as morality, mortality, and the supernatural realm. This response was compounded
in an innocent age. Unknown quantities such as medicine and agriculture were understood
in almost entirely religious terms. Hence, these traditional beliefs comprised the religious
milieu into which a man or woman was born and lived out his or her life; it was part of
the cultural baggage which all human beings inherit. Second, however, Nock also saw
some religions as "prophetic" in nature. Prophetic religions were centered around a
"founder" espousing a rupture with traditional beliefs, and a heartfelt embracing of new
creeds and/or forms of religious experience. Christ and the Buddha were such prophets.
So was Socrates.4

Nock defined prophetic faith as demanding personal "conversion"—or a re-
structuring of one’s most fundamental priorities and a profound change in one’s most
basic phiIOSOphy. Ancient conversions, like those of Saul of Tarsus’s Damascus Road
experience and the conversion of Lucius in Apuleius’ The Golden Ass, are only two of
the most famous examples.

Nock’s greatest strength was his subtle depiction of a "middle country" existing
between the two extremes of cultural and prophetic religion, a conversion a la the
prophetic faiths which ultimately transformed antiquity’s various cultures. Much of this
conversion stemmed from Macedonian and Roman military conquests. These imperial

actions created cosmopolitanism. CosmOpolitanism exerted a relentless pressure on ancient

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l3

society, gradually culminating in a cultural conversion no less dramatic than the personal
conversion of Paul.

Nock’s "Great Conversion" provided historians with a major interpretative
question. It was one of the greatest social and cultural revolutions of all time. Virtually
the only major religion to emerge from antiquity intact was Judaism, though it was by no
means unscathed by contact with the several multi-national empires under which it had
been dominated Ultimately, Christianity and Islam, both prophetic religions which were
also very much products of their age, culminated this great conversion with their
ascendancy over the Other competing faiths of Hellenistic culture.

For Cumont, the transformation in ancient religion had been a product of
orientalism. For Nock, it was a kind of social revolution in which prophetic religion
merged with cultural religion. But, despite their differences, borh Cumont and Nock
emphasized the religious dimensions of religious history, and included spirituality as a
primary force in religious culture. Both also were well aware of the unique combination
of circumstances which resulted in the conversion to Christian (and later Muslim) culture.

A third hisrorian, likewise from the twentieth century’s earlier decades, also
compares with Nock and Cumont in these regards. This was Gilbert Murray, whose The
Five Stages of Greek Religion remains an important work. Those same transforming
tendencies which Cumont had labeled orientalism, and which Nock had ascribed to
prophetic religion, Murray attributed to a newer mysticism. The old Greek pantheon
deities were pooled in with the "traditional gods, from Hercules and Dionysus up to Zeus

and Cronos," gods who, he asserts, were "simply old-world rulers who had . . . been

 

 

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transferred to the ranks of heaven. Against these traditional gods, and then against the

great age of Hellenic philosophy, he pits the newer mysticism—epitomized above all by

Christianity:

Anyone who turns from the great writers of classic Athens, say Sophocles
or Aristotle, to those of the Christian era must be conscious of a great
difference in tone. There is a change in the whole relation of the writer to
the world him. The new quality is not specifically Christian: it is just as
marked in the Mithras worshippers as it is in the Gospels and the
apocalypse . . . It is hard to describe . . . It is a rise of asceticism, of
mysticism...a loss of self-confidence, of hOpe in this life and of faith in
normal human effort . . . it is not so much to live justly, to help the
society to which he belongs or enjoy the esteem of his fellow creatures:
but rather, by contempt for the world and its standards, by ecstasy,
suffering and martyrdom, to be granted pardon for his unspeakable
unworthiness, his immeasurable sins. There is an intensifying of certain
spiritual emotions: an increase of sensitiveness, a failure of nerve.6

Murray pointed to two great strands of religion. The one range was labeled the
"Great Schools," of Greek philosophy, culminating in Plato and his distinguished

successors. The other range was Christianity, culminating in Paul. The former was largely

 

the product of Greece proper, while the latter largely emanated from Hellenized Jews. The
"Failure of Nerve" constituted the "lower country" lying in between the two extremes. The

central thrust of the Failure of Nerve theory, then, was to show how a "period of religious

 

5 Murray, Gilbert, The Five Stages of Greek Religion, (New York: DOUbleday Books,
1951), 153.

 

5 ibid., 119.

 

 

 

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history, which seems broken, is really continuous, and to trace the lie of the main valleys
which lead from one range to the other."7

When Murray pitted "The Great Schools" against "the Failure of Nerve," he
pointed to a kulturkampf which Nietzsche, Rohde (and later E.R. Dodds) had identified
as a struggle between intellect and emotion—between rational consciousness and irrational
impulses.8 What warrants note, however, is that Murray identified with Christianity what
Rohde and Nietzsche linked to Dionysus. To the emphasis on myth and emotion which
was placed on Dionysian faith—the mysticism and allegory—Murray added not only the
asceticism and esotericism inherent in Christianity, but guilt and insecurity as well.

Murray’s larger focus of "The Failure of Nerve" was the Hellenistic Age. The
Hellenistic Age, above all, was precipitated by a collapse of the traditional Greek religion,
according to Murray. All of this had its seeds in the calamitous events of 404 BC.
wherein the "Beloved City" of Pericles had become tyrannical, and lost its soul along with
the war. Hence, to Murray, the destruction of Athens wielded far more significance than
the victory of Sparta. Above all, it destroyed the ideal of the 7:0th which Athens had
epitomized. Since traditional Greek religion had been centered on the rtoltg, primarily,
it was bankrupted by the Peloponnesian War? Hence a moral and spiritual vacuum was
created in Greek society, paving the way for the great religion of the Hellenistic Age, of

which Christianity was the most effective.

 

7 ibid., 121.

8 Dodds, 13.12., The Greeks and the Irrational, (Berkeley: University of California
Press, 1951).

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These emphases on Spiritual vacuums, dead old religions and the like, explained
much about the advent of the new mystic religions. Perhaps it was most succinctly
described by ER. Goodenough. In The Church and the Roman Empire, he wrote, "No
religion can have any general appeal which does not at least seem to offer to men what
they feel they deeply need. Christianity was and is no exception to the rule." Continuing,
he adds, "It (Christianity) succeeded at first fundamentally because it offered to the
Graeco-Roman world into which it came, and of which it was largely a product, the kind

of comfort and inspiration men were seeking."10

 

Such historians appealed much to the religious sensibilities which were much more
prevalent in scholarship then than they are now. More recently, scholars like Ramsey

Macmullen and Walter Burkert have done much to remind historians not to over-simplify

 

complex social and psychological processes by using trite religious sirnplisms.11 In
particular, Macmullen’s Paganism in the Roman Empire challenged the view espoused
by scholars like Cumont that the Roman Empire was a kind of theistic melting pot,

likening it instead to a good rich Irish stew.12 As had Toutain’s work Les Cultes Paiens

 

1° Goodenough, Erwin R., The Church in the Roman Empire, (New York: Henry Holt
and CO., 1966), 4-5.

1‘ Burkert, Walter, Ancient Mystery Cults, (Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard
University Press, 1987); cf. Homo Necans: The Anthropology of Ancient Greek Sacrificial
Ritual and Myth, (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1983).

12 Macmullen, Ramsey, Paganism in the Roman Empire, (New Haven, Connecticut:
Yale University Press, 1981), vi.

 

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dans I’Empire Romain, Paganism in the Roman Empire derided Cumont for too quickly
glossing over the many regional disparities in the new cults’ diffusion.l3

Macmullen also cautioned against an over-enthusiastic view of the "spiritual-
fortitude-spiritual weakening" school of interpretation. Referring to Cumont as the "high-
priest of the oriental cults," Paganism in the Roman Empire described the emphasis which
scholars like Cumont or Nock placed on spirituality as "too vague," further reasoning that
"moral attributes and inner-thoughts are not only almost entirely hidden from us, but not
even investigated through such data as could be used."14 Similarly, in his Christianizing
the Roman Empire, Macmullen likewise carefully distinguished between history, and
theology—the latter being the field which he believed N ock and Cumont to have studied,
as opposed to the former. Though Macmullen’s work can seem to hint at irreligion, his
notes of caution need to be remembered. Nonetheless, the role which personal religious
experience played in the new cults’ popularity cannot be so easily dismissed.

In 1961, V. Wessetzsky produced Die a'gyptischen kulte zur Romerzeit in Ungarn.

It was the first volume in a useful and important publication Etudes Pre’liminaires aux

 

13 Toutain was Cumont’s contemporary nemesis. The two battled over the degree to
which the Hellenistic (i.e. oriental) cults actually supplanted the older gods and goddesses
of Greece and Rome. In Cumont’s day, the geographic universality. of "les religions
orientales" was challenged by Toutain, who argued that archeological evidence simply
did not support Cumont in this regard. Many of the rural regions offered no evidence of
the eastern cults whatsoever. Toutain, 1., Les Cultes Paiens dons 1’ Empire romain, (Paris:
1911), vol. 2., 5-34; cf. Cumont’s review of Toutain in Revue de I’Histoire des Religions,
LXVI (1912), 125-29; Heuten, G., "La Diffusion des Cultes égyptiens en Occident," in
Revue de l’Histoire des Religions, 104, 1931, 409-16; Macmullen, Paganism in the
Roman Empire, 116.

‘4 Macmullen, Paganism in Rome, 123.

 

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18
Religions Orientales darts l’Empire Romain (EPRO), edited by M.J. Vermasseren. This

particular series has given increased weight to archaeological evidence. It has produced
studies, many of them regional, exceptionally rich in empirical evidence. Thus it has
provided opportunities to address the broader questions which have been raised by earlier
twentieth century scholars.

At this point in my research, I have limited myself, for the most part, to the rich
resources of ancient literature. In so doing, I have left no doubt fertile ground unexplored
till some later date. Some attention has been given to material culture, though more
careful consideration of archaeological findings is a task I am reserving for later revisions
of my work. The record of art history is also something I plan to examine. I must point
out, also, that my inclusion of inscriptions into the body of the text has been, for the most
part, sporadic. Here and there are scattered references to the Corpus Inscriptionum
Latinarum, or to the compilations of Epidarus inscriptions which the Edelsteins compiled.
But overall, my work has limited itself to "literary" sources. These yielded more than
enough pertinent information to keep me busy for the past two years. Nonetheless, I
intend to expand my research by including other types of sources, as soon as is possible.
The translations provided in the body of the text are, generally, my own. Translated texts
which I consulted, especially those from the Loeb Classical Library, are listed in the
bibliography along with other primary and secondary sources.

This dissertation’s central contention is that the varied textures of Greco-Roman
religion during the Hellenistic era cannot be fully understood without serious

consideration of the role which religious ideas play in the spiritual life of individuals.

 

 

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More, ideas regarding the metamorphosis of the body and soul manifest an important and
attractive commonality in many cults. The idea that an external religious power could
fundamentally transform someone, physically or Spiritually, has to be considered one of
the truly inspiring ideas of ancient religion. The metamorphosis’ potential for meaningful
change was what lured Lucius and his servant-girl friend Fotis to peer into Pamphile’s
chamber, then dangerously and tragically experiment with her unknown magic potions.
It was what induced Aelius Aristides to spend decades of his life in the Asklepion in
Pergamum, seeking illusory notions of holistic well-being. It was the force which struck
Saul of Tarsus blind on the Damascus Road, and compelled him to finish out his life
promising new Christians a perfected body, and a final resurrection from death.
Metamorphosis was a hypnotically attractive notion, and one of the most profound

common themes of a great religious age.

 

 

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SHAPE-SHIFTING METAMORPHOSIS

The belief in a human metamorphosis took a range of forms. The Golden Ass
begins its narrative with a woman who turns into an owl, and a man who turns into an
ass. These are examples of shape—shifting, and a primitive form of belief in the
metamorphosis. It was an exceedingly popular image in ancient and European folklore.
Such accounts can generally be said to indicate more nefarious forms of the
metamorphosis. Nonetheless, the ability to shift one’s shape was a powerful and coveted
skill. It was especially prevalent in folklore accounts of nightwitches, lamiae, and the

stories of lycanthropy which came out of Greece.

LAMIAE

Lamia was a somewhat obscure figure from the lower stratum of Greek

mythology.1 Though a fairly minor character, her story provides a particularly elemental

 

‘ For more extensive reading on Lamiae, cf. Nilsson, Martin P., Greek Folk Religion,
(New York: Harper Torchback Books, 1940), 98; cf. Tisserant, M. Halm, "Folklore et
Superstition en Gréce classique: Lamia torturée?," in Kernos: Revue Internationale et
Pluridisciplinaire de Religion Grecque Antique, 2, (1989), 67-83; Snowden, Frank, Blacks
in Antiquity, (Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press, 19970), 155; Seltrnan, C.T.,
"Two Heads of Negresses," in American Journal of Archaeology, XXIV, (1920), 14-15;

20

 

 

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account of shape-shifting beliefs. Too, she came to be generically associated with a
general type of nightwitch figure with shape-shifting capabilities.

Her own metamorphosis was not a pleasant one. Originally the beautiful daughter
of a Libyan king, she was seduced by Zeus. Subsequently, she bore the great old god
children. However, Hera, mad with envy, killed Lamia’s children.2 The Libyan princess
turned ugly with grief and anger. She was said to have devoted the rest of her existence
to devouring children.3 Several variations of this mythological theme exist. She became
a kind of fairy tale figure, used by mothers and nannies to induce good behavior among
children.4 Sometimes she was said to have the ability to pluck out her eyes.5 In some
literature she appeared as a seductive, vampire-like creature who preyed on handsome
young men. The most famous example of this version of the Lamia theme is taken from
Philostratus’ Life of Apolonius. Here a Lamia appeared as a beguiling enchantress of
Phoenician descent. In a variation of the "unknown lover" theme common in folklore, the

beautiful lady met and completely fascinated a youth, Menippus, so that a marriage was

 

Gruppe, Otto, Greichish Mythologie und Religiongeschicte, (New York: Aron Press,
1975), II, 1487.

2 There are shades of this myth in Apuleius’ rendering of the Cupid and Psyche myth.
Here, the love goddess denounces the maiden as a succubus. "Indignant Venus exclaims
forcefully," denouncing "Psyche, that usurper of my beauty. Tunc indignata Venus
exclamavit vel maxime: Psychen illam meae formae succubam." Apuleius, Met, V. 28.

3 Diod. Sic., 20. 41.

4 Lucian mocks those who, like children, still fear the Lamia, and the Mormo, another
horrific female figure associated with childhood fables. Luc., Lover of Lies, 3; cf. Dio
Chrys, 0r., 55; Strabo, 1. 28. 8.; Horace, Ars P., 340.

5 Plut, De Cur., 2.

 

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hastily planned. On the wedding day, Apolonius convinced Menippus that his comely
fiance was really a Lamia, who was planning to devour him shortly after the marriage.45
The theme was treated by nineteenth century poet John Keats in his haunting work
"Lamia."

The various images which went into the Lamia figure heavily in the depictions of
witches which recur throughout ancient literature. For example, Apuleius’ Metamorphoses
was nicknamed The Golden Ass for its depiction of the adventures of an unfortunate man
who has been turned into an ass. The circumstances surrounding this unfortunate event
are fraught with examples of shape-shifting. After parting ways with Aristomenes, Meroe
and Panthia, Lucius continued his travels. He spent time at another inn, this one owned
by the wealthy Milo. Before going to Milo’s inn, Lucius was warned by the servant girl
Fotis and by his own cousin Byrrhanea regarding the wicked wife of Milo, Pamphile. In
many ways, she was the same sort of nightwitch creature whom Apuleius introduced in
the characters of Meroe and Panthia. Lucius was told that she wielded a deadly penchant
for young men.7 However, a new twist was added. Pamphile was a shape-shifter. Hence,
readers confront the second most famous example of shape-shifting found in The Golden

Ass (the first being that of Lucius, of course). Accompanied by another servant girl,

 

6 Phil., VA., 4.25; Consider also that such evil spirits were apparently attracted to
physical beauty and youth, as were many of the witches discussed in this work. For
example, also in Philostratus, it is reported that while Aponius was in India, he was
approached by a woman whose sixteen year old son had been possessed by a Saiuorv for
several years. Aponius told the woman that the spirit was smitten by her son’s good
looks. He subsequently rebukes the Sammy with a threatening letter. cf. ibid., 3. 38.

7 Apul., Met, 2.5; 2.12; 3.15.

 

 

 

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Lucius watched Pamphile through a window as she stripped off her clothes, and sprinkled

some kind of powder on herself.8 This changed her into an owl-like creature who
subsequently flew out the window. Enarnored with the possibility of shifting his own
shape, Lucius crept into Pamphile’s room after she had flown away. Helped by the
servant girl, he mimicked the sorceress’ actions which he had just observed. Instead of
turning into an owl, however, Lucius turned into an ass. Moreover, he was unable to
regain his human shape. Thus began the meandering adventures of man/ass Lucius, which
constituted one of antiquity’s most powerful religious fables.9
Pseudo-Lucian’s version of the same story described this portion of the fable, with
many of the exact same themes.10 Again, a perverse metamorphosis comprised the core
of the tale. Lucian’s rendering of the tale also took place in Thessaly. The young man
was on business. He had been invited to the home of Hipparchus in Hypata, a town in

Thessaly.11 When he met a well-dressed woman named Abroea in the street, she warned

 

8 Stripping off one’s clothes was a common theme in more modern shape-shifting
folklore, notably that of the werewolf. Werewolves were often said to strip off their
clorhes before undergoing their metamorphosis. Petronius offers a story demonstrating
this and other important characteristics from early werewolf lore. Pet, Sat, 61.

9 Apul., Met, 3. 20-21; cf. Lucian, Trans, 12: 12-13..

1° Apuleius began his Metamorphoses by stating that "we begin a Greek tale;
Fabuluam Graecanican incipimus." He also refers to his story as one in the Milesian
mode. This is usually thought to refer to Aristides of Miletus, who wrote a collection of
sexually explicit accounts in the first century AD. The story of Lucius and his
unfortunate transformations were more than likely common fables in antiquity, especially
in Greek-speaking regions. Apul., Met, 1. 1.

1‘ Lucian, Lucius, 1. 1; The "young man on business" seems to have been a common
motif by which Hellenistic and lrnperial authors could spin a long and adventuresome
narrative. Consider that the protagonist in Petronius’ Satyricon, was also travelling for
entrepreneurial reasons. This more practical theme in many later stories contrasts sharply

 

 

 

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him about the wife of Hipparchus. This was the character corresponding to Milo, the
innkeeper in Apuleius, and the husband of the great sorceress Pamphile. Abroea warned
Lucius that Hipparchus’ wife was a cunning sorceress, one who cast her eye on all
handsome young men. Again, the parallels with Apuleius are striking.”

As in Apuleius, one sees again the moral undergirding of the story, despite the
novel’s lechery and borderline pornography. The transformation sought was a kind of
perverse inversion of more uplifting metarnorphoses available in the more ethical and
abstract religions. Hence the moral component of transformation beliefs was
apparent—though the morals may be have been more readily observed in the breach than
in the practice. Rather than heed Abroea’s advice, Lucius was excited to learn that the
occult excitement and experimentation he sought was so close at hand.13 Indeed, if it
was illicit pleasure he sought, the inn of Hipparchus was something of a jackpot—sin city
for the weary traveler. Lucius decided that before encountering the powers of Hipparchus’
wife, he would have his way with the servant girl Palaestra, Lucian’s equivalent of
Fotis.l4 It is at this point in the novel that metamorphosis came to take a central role in

the fable’s plot. After much graphic sex with Palaestra, Lucius asked her to help him spy

 

with the ’Odyssey’ and ’Pilgrimage’ themes of earlier lore.
12 ibid., l. 4; cf. Apul. Met., 3. 15.
‘3 Lucian, Lucius, 1. 5.

14 The name Palaestra is perhaps something of an off-color witticism. It is
suspiciously close to the Greek word for wrestling school, nahiotpa, which makes a kind
of sense, if one reads about the gymnastic sexual decathlon instruction which Lucius
received in the servant girl’s tutelage. ibid., 1. 5.

 

 

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25

on Hipparchus’ wife.15 A few days later, Palaestra informed Lucius that the witch was
going to turn herself into a bird. They went and spied on her through a crack in the door
of her bedroom. As in Apuleius’ Metamorphoses, the sorceress stripped off her clothes,

1.‘6 Subsequently, she became a "nightraven" or a K6Opa§

then rubbed herself with an oi
wmeptvog; Apuleius uses the word "bubo" or owl. "F it bubo Pamphile."l7 Here,
Lucius stripped and Palaestra daubed him with the enchantrnent ointment. He turned into
an ass. And as in the Apuleius account, he was told to eat roses and be cured.18

It is evident that bOth versions of the ass/man story have powerful elements of
human metamorphosis, even linking them with a kind of crude morality. More, there are
elements of shape-shifting themes which can be demonstrated to exist elsewhere in Greco-
Roman folklore. In shifting her shape into that of an owl, Pamphile hints at elements of
the Strix myth. Strix is a Latin word generally translated "screech owl." During antiquity,

however, the Strix became closely linked with nocturnal, vampiric witch-like creatures,

notably that of the Lamia.19 The most famous incidence of such syncretism is found in

 

‘5 ibid., 1. 11.

1‘ As the nOt-so-subtle overtones of this story indicate, an element of sexual
perversion often appeared in some of these shape-shifting accounts. One recalls the Story
of Pasiphae, who rejoiced to become the ’adultera’ of a bull, and regarded with jealousy
the comely cows. She so desired to become a bull that she wore purple gowns and went
up to wander among the mountain herds. Too, she envied Europa and 10, for the one was
a cow, and the Other was born of a cow’s mate. Ovid, Ars Amitoriae, l. 295; cf. also,
Plutarch, Agis, 9.

‘7 Apul., Met, 3. 21.
" Lucian, Lucius, 1. 11, 14.

’9 Oliphant, 8.6., "The Story of the Strix," in Transactions of the American
Philological Association, 44, (1913), 133-49.

 

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Jerome’s Vulgate. Isaiah originally referred to the demonic Lilith.20 This Hebrew
demoness, who was said to be the first wife of Adam, manifested many vampire/Lamia
qualities. Since Adam had left her for Eve, she was believed to reserve a particular
loathing for happy lovers and children. By later antiquity, she was linked with Lamia, so
that when the Old Testament was translated into Latin, the Hebrew Lilith became
"Lamiae."21 Moreover, the original King James version of the Bible translated the
passage as screech owls, while the Revised Standard Version simply used the more
generic "night hag. "22 Such linguistic flexibility reflected a synthesis of what were once
clearly defined and separately conceived figures. By the end of the classical period those
various notions regarding women, the supernatural and evil were synthesized into a kind
of generic female archetype. Embodied in this still formative literary and mythological
model were many of the characteristics later to be linked more specifically with vampires

or witches. A metamorphosis ability was chief among their powers.

 

2° Isaiah 34: 14.

21 Of course, there is a wealth of ancient near eastern and Hebrew scholarship
addressing this rich folklore tradition. Only a few of the more useful and important
sources can be noted here. Perhaps the most thorough is Raphael Patai’s chapter on Lilith
in his work The Hebrew Goddess. Ginzberg’s work is also invaluable. Patai, Raphael,
The Hebrew Goddess, (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1967), 221-254; cf.
Ginzberg, Louis, Legends of the Jews, (Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society of
America, 1925), vol. I, 65. Volume 5 of Ginzberg’s work notes the confusion of Lilith
with Lamia. cf. 5, 87; cf. Caquot, Andre’, "Anges et Demons en Israel," in Ge’nies, Anges
et Demons, (Paris: Editions du Seuil, 1971), 117.

22 When appropriate and/or necessary, the goddesses themselves would take-on the
"hag" visage. Recall than Juno turned into an old hag to visit Semele, the mother whose
dalliance with Jove ultimately produced Bacchus. Ovid, Met., 111. 273-286.

 

 

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27

The Strix (pl.= striges) had one of the more important blends of human and animal
characteristics in Greco-Roman folklore. Generally, the word was associated with witches.
Petronius tells of striges who began to screech so that you would think a dog to be
following a hare.23 After such screeching witches startled a group, a strapping
Cappadocian went out to inspect the commotion. He came back bruised to a pulp, having

been touched by the unseen phantoms. Meanwhile, a mother in the inn discovered that
her baby had disappeared—and was replaced by a bundle of straw. The big slave died a
few days later. He had gone mad.24

Perhaps the most detailed story regarding the strix is found in Ovid. This
concerned the very early Roman goddess Carna, who was the deity of hinges. The hinge,
of course, easily was linked to the comings and goings of daily life, especially home life.
Hence, Carna was the goddess of the hearth. Her name may have etymological
connections to the word caronis, or flesh. Either Ovid or a now forgotten convention
confused her with Cardea, the goddess of hinges whose name was derived from the word
for hinge, cardonis. In F asti, where Ovid discusses the Roman calendar—unfortunately,
the final six books/months are not extant—Ovid states that June lst was the sacred day
given to Carna. He himself states that information about the mythical origins of her power

and origins were largely lost.

 

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28

The story of Carna and the Strix tells much about ancient beliefs in shape-shifting.
Alemus was an ancient grove near the Tibet’s mouth. Here a nymph named Cranae used
to hunt—an activity which apparently roused her passions more than the attentions of her
many suitors. When pressed by one of these, she was wont to take him out of the light
to a dark cave—an activity which her amorous admirers naturally favored as well. Once
in the woods however, she would hide in the brush. After she tried this with the deity
Janus, he said she should be the goddess of hinges, since she was so found of opening
the closing the door of possibility.25 Janus finally caught Carna and had his way with
her. In return for seizing Carna’s maidenhood, Janus, true to this word, made her the
goddess of hinges. Hence, Crana became a goddess of the home and hearth, since the
hinge was so readily linked to the doorway. More, the god presented her with a single
white thorn.
This story sets up another tale regarding Proca, the ancient king of Alba Longa.
The Proca story makes the link between the strix and transformations into owl-like
creatures clearer. Indeed, in introducing the tale, Ovid reports that striges meant screech-
owls (avidae volucres). LCL translator Frazer translates this as birds, but the word used
is not avis, but volucris, which can refer to virtually any flying thing, chiefly birds or

insects. So though the word strix come from owls, meaning birds, these are not normal

 

25 Janus was considered the god of gates and doors. Indeed, the very word Janus
(ianus) also meant passageway, or gate. Hence, one notes Janus Patulcius, the deity who
opened doors, and Janus Clusivius, the deity who closed doors. cf. Livy, 1. 19. 2; An
ancient hymn to Janus is preserved in Varro, 7. 27; cf. also, Ogilvie, R.M., The Romans
and their Gods in the Age of Augustus, (London: Croom Helm, 1969), 11; Schilling,
Robert, "Janus: Le Dieu Introducteur, Le Dieu des Passages," in Rites, Cultes, Dieux de
Rome, (Paris: Editions Klincksieck, 1979), 220-262.

 

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29

birds.” Neither are the Strix Harpies, though they were descended from the Harpies.
They were said to have large hooklike claws and to attack nurseless children. Using their
pointed beaks to rip the throats of children, they drank their blood.

Ovid does not know whether these beasts were born thus, or were turned into
these forms through sorcery. He does tell, however, that they came into the home of
Proca, where there was a five-day-old infant. The Striges attacked the infant. The nurse
went to Cranae (Carna) and pleaded for help. Cranae touched the doorpost three times
with arbatus leaves, also the threshold. She sprinkled the enurance with charmed water.
Finally, she left some sowguts out for the birds as a sacrifice. The child got his color
back. This story has strong symbolism regarding thresholds, which figured heavily in later
European accounts of vampires and shape-shifters.

Carna was associated with both the buckthom and the thresholds. The Greeks
believed that buckthorn or whitethom fastened to a door or outside a window kept evil

spirits and ghosts from the house.” This belief was a fascinating precursor to later

 

25 Recall too the daughters of the mythical king Minyas. They refused to grant
recognition to Bacchus as the divine figure he was, saying "he was not among the ’true
gods’ (sea non est Bacchus in illis)." For their scorn of Bacchus and his holy festivals,
the girls were turned into bats, night creatures "hating light (lucemque perosae)." Ovid,
Met., IV. 274-75, 389-415.

27 In more recent eras, thorns were frequently placed in the coffins of the recently
deceased to ward off evil spirits or the onslaught of vampirism. Barber, Paul, Vampires,
Burial and Death, (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1988), 53. cf. Whitethorn was the
Wood used, along with Hawthorn, to make the stake which was pounded through the heart
of a vampire. Summers, Montague, The VampiresHis Kith and Kin, (New York, 1929),
203-04. Recall, also the atheist Bion, who suffered a deathbed religious conversion,
requesting buckthorn to be attached to the doors. Diog., Lae., V. Ph1., 1v. 54-57.

 

 

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30

EurOpean beliefs regarding the thresholds of the home, notably that the devil, or vampires,
could not enter through the threshold of a home without someone inside inviting them.23

This link between shape-shifting, vampires and witches was an important one. In
later European folklore, all three sorts of creatures would clearly be fused and confused,
as is evidenced by the frequent link between vampires and werewolves. No doubt these
linkages derive from the earlier centuries of occidental antiquity. One recalls Circe, one
of the first ’femme-fatale,’ nightwitch creatures to have been described in Greek literature.
This compelling and powerful being clearly used elements of shape-shifting in her bag
of magical tricks. Homer’s Odyssey reports that her palace on the island of Aeaea was
surrounded by a retinue of fearsome wolves, and lions—creatures who were, in actuality,

men whom she had bewitched with drugs.29

 

28 Note that the threshold has long been associated with folklore. This hardly seems
surprising, since it was so clearly linked with the security of the home. This tradition
continued into early modern eastern Eur0pe, where it was sometimes believed that a
vampire was unable to cross a home’s threshold without being invited. In an often
insecure age, to cross the threshold uninvited was a kind of domestic rape—a violation
of what little privacy and sanctity ancient society was able to offer families. Along with
Carna (Cardea), Janus was traditionally considered the god of doors. Consider, for
example, that Apuleius goes out of his way to point out that Meroe and Panthia had
passed over (evaserant) the threshold (Zimen) of the room in which Socrates and
Aristomenes were sleeping. "Just then they crossed the threshold and the doors re-swung
back to their original position. "Commudum limen evaserant etfores ad pristinum statum
integrae resurgunt." Even more telling is Lucan’s account of the great nightwitch
Erictho. As powerful as she was, it was forbidden Erictho to rest her head in the city or
under a roof. Still today the custom of "carrying the bride across the threshold," survives
in England and Scotland, from the old days of Roman Britain. Apul., Met., 1. 14; cf.
Lucan, Bella Civile, VI. 567-70; Laing, Gordon, Survivals of Roman Religions, (New
York: Cooper Square Publishers, 1963), 33.

29 Homer, 0a., K. 209-220.

 

 

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31

There are other clear precursors to shape-shifting and vampire folklore. In many
regions of Eastern EurOpe, it was believed that shape-shifters could not cross salt waiter,
or "running water."30 Some obscure predecessor of this belief appears in The Golden
Ass. After the terrible and vampire-like nocturnal attack sustained by Socrates in the
beginning of the novel, Meroe stOpped up the wound in the young man’s throat with a
sponge. Then, Panthia admonished that he "take care not to pass over a river." When
Socrates failed to heed this mandate, his wound re-opened, and he expired.31 The link
between running water in Apuleius and more modern superstition is too tenuous to
comment on in anything less than cursory fashion. Still, in general terms, the similarity
can hardly be coincidental.

Still other elements which the witches of Metamorphoses exhibit bore resemblance
to modern shape-shifting folklore, and must be considered. At one point, Apuleius reports
that the witches of Thessaly were closely linked with death, corpses and crypts. Lucius
remarked that not even the graves were safe, and that the witches would go into the
cemeteries to gather bones and slices of flesh from the recently deceased.32 This hints

at the not-so-subtle cannibalistic qualities of Lamiae. Indeed, Thessalian witches would

 

3° As will be noted below, water was used in purifying ceremonies prior to funerals,
which may account for some of these ancient and longstanding ideas. Lucian, 0n
Funerals, 12; Summers, Montague, The Vampire: His Kith and Kin, (New York:
University Books, 1960), 208; cf. Wild, Robert, Water in the Cultic Worship of Isis and
Sarapis, (Leiden: EJ. Brill, 1981), 145.

3‘ "Cave . . . per fluvium transens." Apul., Met., 1. 13'14-

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bite off the flesh of dead men’s faces and use it in their magic spells.33 Ovid too
describes Thessalian witches as old, ghoulish hags haunting the graveyard.“ He writes
of haemonia, thereby describing many of the characteristics associated with "old"
Thessalian sorcery. Those included many of the horrific notions described by Apuleius,
and familiar to more recent horror themes: Spirits rising from tombs, witches, who seek
to split the very earth with their "infamous incantation (infamz' carmz'ne)."35

This ghoulish image of witches haunting graveyards borrowed much from Hecate,

who possessed many vampiric characteristics herself. First, Hecate had strong nocturnal

qualities, and was linked with moon goddesses like Diana, Selene, Artemis or the Syrian

Atargatis. Euripides referred to her as the "queen of the night."36 A prayer preserved by

 

’3 Recall that Thessaly was considered the seat of witchcraft in the western ancient
world. The pOpular Thessalian lore had a clearly occult connotation. Medea’s most
famous spell-casting took place in Thessaly, as reported in Ovid’s Metamorphoses. Also,
Ovid’s Remedia Amorz's equates the region Haemonia (Haemonia=early term for Thessaly)
with old sorcery and witchcraft, which the author claims have no power against gods like
his patron deity Apollo: "Viderz't, Haemoniae sz'quz's mala pabula terra er magicas arres
posse iuvare putat. lsta veneficii vetus est via." "If anyone believes the evil potions of the
Haemonian region to be able to help, he shall see. Such is the ancient way of sorcery."
Ovid, Metamorphoses, VII. 160; cf. Ovid, Remedia Amoris, 248-252.

3" Lucian’s version of the same story told by Apuleius, commonly Transformations,
also sets these early and horrifying events in Thessaly. Again, the protagonist is on
business. He has been invited to the home of Hipparchus, instead of Milo. There is all the
sexual titillation in the early chapters too, coupled as it is with an interest in magic and
sorcery. The wife of Hipparchus (Milo) is also said to be attracted to handsome young
men. Lucian, Trans, 1. 4.

35 "Non Anus infami carmine rumpet humum." Ovid, Remedia Amorz's, 250- Anus
interchangeably means old woman, hag, or witch.

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33

Origin describes her as an enemy of the sun.” And like the hags reported by Apuleius,

 

she was said to wander among the tombs, and even to drink blood. Too, she was said to
make the dogs bark when she approached.38 The belief that an animal could recognize
a shape-shifter, vampire or a witch was prevalent throughout medieval and early modern
European history. In certain regions of eastern Europe, it was believed that a white
stallion who had never mated could recognize a vampire’s grave, or that dogs could sense
unnaturally evil individuals.39 More, Hecate was associated with suicides, and, in many

regions, suicides were thought to become vampires, or roam the earth as restless

Spirits.40

 

Finally, Hecate was frequently the goddess called upon by other sorceresses who
were making spells or potions. Sometimes there were forms of shape-shifting in these
magic charms. She appeared in the famous myth of Arachne. After Athena lost her
weaving contest with Arachne, she used a plant named Hecatean to sprinkle on Arachne,
to turn her into a spider.41

Apuleius includes another story in The Golden Ass which resembles later vampire

folklore, and hence is significant in any discussion of shape-shifting. Ass-Lucius was sold

 

3’ Or., Phil., 72.

3" Theoc., 2. 10-17.
’9 Villeneuve, Roland, Loup-Garous et Vampires, (Paris: La Palatine, 1963), 137-38.

4° Cavendish, Richard, The Powers of Evil in Western Religion, Magic and Folk
Belief, (New York: Putnam’s 1975), 98.

41 "Post ea discedens sucis Hecateidos hervae sparsit." "After saying these things, she
sprinkled her (Arachne) with the juices of the Hecatean herb." Ovid, Met., VII. 194.

 

 

 

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34

tan auction to a poor gardener. Meanwhile, a man from a neighboring village shared the
umble hOSpitality of the gardner. On the next day, the guest promised to return the favor
'ith some gifts. Lucius was sent on the seven mile journey to the next town. Here again,
ucius was witness to a horrific tale—a story within a story being the device frequently
red by Apuleius to spin his meandering tale.

The master rode Lucius to the next town. Even before the main story began,
range omens were observed while the gardener and his former guest supped A hen laid
It an egg, but a live chicken; the ground under their table burst asunder, and a shower

blood spurred forth; wine in the host’s cellar began to boil; 3 great frog leapt out of
:log’s mouth. These events indicated that the upcoming happenings were going to be
mere occurences, but occurences with supernatural overtones. The omens could be
guries of the man’s son’s upcoming death, but they also hinted at a natural order that
i been disturbed. Meanwhile, a servant brought word of disaster. The host had three
is who were well bred and educated. They had gone to defend a poor man with whom
y sympathized. The man’s hut bordered on the property of another young man, and he
le his cows and trampled his crops repeatedly. More, confusing some illusionary border
abble, he was trying to take the poor man’s land for himself.

In the "legal" battle which ensued, the poor man gathered friends to serve as
resses, and showed them the borders of his property. The three sons of the gardner
t were among these potential witnesses. The rich man however, proved recalcitrant.
:n one of the brothers challenged his legal rights to the prOperty, he called out his

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35

brothers. Significantly, Apuleius described the carnage which ensued as a nefaria daps.
Daps meant feast, but also had a religious connotation—a sacrificial banquet, or festive
religious meal. This is the use of inverted religious metaphor common in later varnpire
literature, in which Christian sacraments such as baptism and marriage were often
blasphemed, or mirrored by evil.

A vicious fight ensued in which two brother were killed—one by the dogs, and
the other by the spear of the rich young ruler. But before the third remaining brother and
the noble clashed, the poor brother used an interesting metaphor in denouncing the
aristocratic landowner:

Reap thou your rewards from the destrucdon of our entire family, and
nourish your insatiable cruelty with the blood of three brothers."2

This story has elements which would emerge in later vampire lore, like the stories
about Dracula the noble, and the Hungarian countess Elizabeth Bathory. In such stories,
there was a noble figure who sucked the surrounding peasantry in more ways than one.
The blood of the peasantry can be understood synonymously with the labor of the
peasantry, with their sweat and meager wealth, which were readily exploited by the
leisurely classes and privileged aristocracy. The vampire motif in such a context is a
metaphor for the parasitical class relationship which was the characteristic of medieval
social structure and the feudal land-holding systems. (Indeed, the "peasants storming of
the castle" has become immortalized in scores of horror novels set in feudal Eastern

Eur0pe, for just such reasons.) The son’s final tirades at the noble just before his violent

’2 F ruere exitio totius nosrrae familae et sanguine trium fi'atrum insatiabilem tuam
crudelitatem pasce. . . . Apul., Met., IX. 39-39.

 

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36

death fit this pattern, in which the parasitical blood-sucking metaphor is used to describe
social inequity. The local lord sucks the economic and/or spritual life and vitality from
his neighboring peasants.

One other story, drawn from Ovid, sheds light on both the magic potions of
Thessaly, and witch figures like Hecate. It too involved shape-shifting. Glaucus, a sea-
god, was in love with Scylla. He had been a fisherman. On some remote shore he had
fished. There a large rock projected out into the water. On one side was water, on the
other side, vegetation. Glaucus noticed that when he placed his caught fish on the
vegetation, they would spring back to vigorous life after eating the herbs. They would
jump back into the sea. He tried it himself, and became a merrnan. He fell in love with

. Scylla. who rejected him, whereupon he sought out Circe for magical aid. Circe however
offered her own charms to Glaucus, who rejected them "propter amorem eius pro Scylla."
She did want not to harm Glaucus, but wanted to hurt Scylla. Thus she mixed herbs
together, singing the incantations of Hecate.”

Along with the S trix, other examples exist of strange mythological creatures who
were part bird and part female. Often, as in the case of the Strix, such beings were quite

horrific and/or malevolent. No doubt the most famous of such examples is taken from the

Gorgo, the Medusa. This noted and ugly beast/woman was derived from an account in

k

’3 Ovid, Remedia Amoris, 248-50; Circe, like her mentor Hecate, also attracted dogs.
Cf. Ovid, Met., XIII. 848-970.

 
 

 

 

 

 

37

Hesiod.44 The blood from one her veins was said to be used by Asklepios for healing,
blood from another to do injury.”

Not all horrific human/bird creatures were female. Ovid tells of Daedalion, brother
of Peleus, husband of Thetis. He was turned into a bird when his daughter Chione stirred
the passions of both Apollo and the son of Mercury. Both slept with her, and she bore
twins. Chione however became proud, and boasted of her superiority to Diana, who shot
Chione with one of her arrows. Her father, seeing the girl die, went mad and fled to the
top of Mount Parnassus, evidently in order to kill himself. Apollo pitied him, and turned
him into a hawk. However, the man remained mad with grief and rage, and became a
hawk-like creature who spent his time terrifying the other birds."6 This is something of
a masculine counterpart to the Lamia story. A father’s grief—as opposed to a m0ther’s
grief—leads to both a supernatural transformation and a hardening of the spirit, now

malevolent."7

 

4" Hesiod, Theog., 270; cf. Homer, [1., 5. 738.

45 Apollodorus Mythographus, 3. 120; In the archaic period, the Gorgon was generally
depicted as the famous horrific figure still associated with her. During the Classical era,
however, she became more of a tragic figure. cf. Pausanias, 2. 21. S; Cicero, Vern, 4.
124.

‘6 Ovid, Met., 289-345.

47 Another story in Ovid also describes a man whose shape is shifted to that of a
woman’s. The blind Theban soothsayer Tiresias had once been walking in the woods.
Here, he came across two serpent mating. Striking them with his staff, he was suddenly
changed into a woman. Eight years later, Tiresias came across the two serpents again,
who were participating in the same activity as before. He struck them again and was
restored his male form. Subsequently, he took sides with Jove in divine marital squabbles.
For this, Juno made him blind. Ovid, Met., HI. 325-338.

 

 

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38

WEREWOLVES

Lamiae, Strix and Other nightwitch figures were by no means the only beings to
pursue more malevolent forms of the metamorphosis. The most famous shape-shifter in
western culture, the werewolf, must also be considered. Here again, the power of
metamorphosis was used for nefarious and perverse purposes. Nonetheless, it was an
immensely powerful transformation for those who sought it.

In Lucan’s Bello Civile, when Pompey sought out out the great Thessalian
nightwitch Erictho, the evil sorceress was depicted as fighting with wolves over graveyard
corpses.“ It was indeed a horrifying image—one which will impress modern readers as
much as it no doubt impressed ancient ones. It was not just the incidental reference to
wolves as scavengers of the dead, or the understandable belief that the wolf was one of
mankind’s most ancient enemies. Rather, it was the placement of the wolf in this whole
macabre scene, replete with witches, graveyards, and dead corpses coming to life. Indeed,
this relatively little known tale from Lucan showed the wolf as one of occidental
superstition’s most ancient and familiar malevolent faces. In short, in the pantheon of
horrific figures and archetypal characters who went into Western Civilization’s Halloween
culture, the wolf was second to none. More, since the ancient days of Greece and Rome,
particularly noteworthy wolves have often been given human characteristics, while

eSpecially evil individuals have often been linked to wolves. More careful exploration of

g

4” Lucan, Bello Civile, 552-53.

 

 

39

this truth reveals the origins of one of the most venerable shape-shifting beings in the
vocabulary of Eur0pean folklore and popular culture: the werewolf.49

Werewolf lore was an age-old feature of the ancient world; one of the most
venerable shape-shifters in antiquity. The oldest folklore stories regarding something like
werewolves which can be found in occidental antiquity derive from the Greek region of
Arcadia. It was a region full of lore regarding wolves.’0 This was an ancient region of
the Peloponnesus. Strabo reports that the Arcadian tribes were believed to be the oldest
Greek tribes, naming the two groups Azanes, and the Parrhasians.’1 By the time the

famous geographer was living, Arcadia had many deserted cities. The old temple of Zeus

 

49 In Greek culture, the wolf was often associated with trickery and deceit, 507mg.
Hence, it is no coincidence when the Iliad’s ’Dolon’ wears wolf-skin to spy on the
enemy. This also hints at other examples to be discussed below, wherein donning
anirnals-skins is part of the prelude leading to shape-shifting. Too, Pindar’s Pithia, 2,
notes the general treachery of the wolf. In Virgil’s Aeneid Circe turns some of the men
into wolves. After Patroclus has begged Achilles loan him his armor, Patroclus leads the
Myrrnidons into battle, whom Homer describes as "carnivorous wolves, Mirror mg
whood'you Diodorus Siculus reports that the Egyptians venerated the wolf. Homer, IL,
16. 155-160, 10. 334; Eur, Rhes, 204; Pindar, Pit., 2. 82-85; Diod., Sic, I. 83; cf. Buxton,
Richard, "Wolves and Werewolves in Greek Thought," in Interpretations of Greek
Mythology, ed. by Jan Bremmer, (London: Croom Helm, I987), 64; for a good general
study, cf. Mainoldi, Carla, L’Image du loup et du chien dans la Grece ancienne d’Homere
a Platon, (Paris: Editions Ophrys, 1984); cf. Detienne, Marcielle, and Svenbro, Jesper,
"Les Loups au festin ou la Cité impossible," in La Cuisine du Sacrifice en Pays Gréc,
(Paris: Centre de Recherches comparées sur les Société Anciennes, 1979), 215-237;
Block, Ride, "Le loup dans les mythologies de la Grece et de l’Italie anciennes," in Revue
de l’instruction publique en Belgique, 20, 1877, 145-158; Summers, Montague, The
Werewolf, (Hyde Park, New York: University Books, 1966).

5° Strabo reports another story, which was more incredible and probably more ancient,
was told regarding the origins of Rome. According to this myth, Rome was an Arcadian
colony, which is interesting, given the wolf imagery surrounding the two cultures. Strabo,
5.3.3.

5‘ Strabo, VIII. 8. 1.

 

 

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40

Lycaeus was still slightly revered—but many of Arcadia’s old cities were ruined and/or
deserted. Too, it was historically a region rich in sheep. This is interesting, since horrific
stories of wolves would seem to fare well wherever the populace depended upon sheep
for a significant portion of their livelihood. Homer reports that the region was rich in
sheep (rtohfitmltov).52 Similarly, Pausanias notes that Arcadians (Pelasgians=Arcadians)
were known for their sheep-skin coats, which he asserts had been introduced by the old
king Pelasgus, and which he notes were still worn during his lifetime in Euboea and
Phocis.53 Too, the Arcadian city Manitea was allegedly the placed where Rhea had given
birth to Poseidon. She had hid him there with a flock of lambs, in order to keep him safe
from Cronus’ appetites.’4

Arcadia was replete with wolf imagery and lore.55 The most famous ones

surrounded the mythical king Lycaon, the son of Pelasgus.“ He was reputed to have

 

52 Homer, 1]., 2. 605.
53 Paus., VIII. 1. 5.

5" Meanwhile, Rhea told Cronus she had given birth to a horse, and gave him a foal
for supper instead of baby Poseidon. ibid., VIII. 8. 2-3.

55 For an excellent overview of Arcadian lore, geography and history, cf. Jost,
Madeleine, Sanctuaires et Cultes d’Arcadie, (Paris: Librairie Philosophique, 1985), 258-
267.

5" Lycaon’s father Pelasgus was reputed the first inhabitant of the Arcadian region.
He taught his people to live in huts, wear sheep-skins coats, avoid eating toxic plants, and
eat acorns. So the father of Lycaon—who was something of a proto-typical werewolf, as
shall be observed below—was associated with benevolence and herbivorism. During his
reign, Arcadia was called Pelasgia. Paus., VIII. 1. l. The land was called Arcadia after
Callisto (daughter of Lycaon, granddaughter of Pelasgus) came to the throne and its
dwellers were Arcadians, instead of Pelasgians. Paus., VIII. 4. 2; cf. also, Piccaluga, G.,
Lykaon: un tema mitico, (Rome: 1968).

 

 

 

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41

lived during the age of Cecr0ps, a pre-historical Athenian king. Here, Pausanias includes
a kind of inversion of the biblical Cain and Able story. Both Cecr0ps and Lycaon
worshipped Zeus—in fact, Pausanias reports that Cecr0ps was the first to name Zeus the
supreme deity, which indicates that his legend may well derive from the days when the
old ethonic gods were first supplanted by the Olympian Pantheon. Cecr0ps refused to
sacrifice "any living thing" on Zeus’ altar.” Pausanias reports that "Lycaon bore the
baby of a man to the altar of the Lycaean Zeus and poured blood on the altar. And
immediately, they say that he became a wolf instead of a man."58 Ovid tells that
Arcadia’s reputation was so inflamed with the Stories of Lycaon’s atrocities that
Jove/Zeus himself went to visit, disguised as a mortal. After performing some miraculous
signs (Ovid does not say what), he was worshipped by the common folk, so that Lycaon
determined to test the divinity of the stranger. He planned to kill him while he slept. But
fust he took a prisoner, cut his throat and boiled him to serve to Zeus. When he served
the god this gruesome repast however, Jove was angered, and Lycaon turned into a

wolf.’9 Ovid reports that he retained elements of his human appearance."o

 

57"

"fondant ’éxer mnv." ibid., VIII. 2. 3.

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Sector yeveoeat mucov oaotv avrt avepdmou. " ibid., VIII. 2. 3.

’9 Ovid, Met., 1. 199-245; Plato briefly mentions this account of Lycaon too, in his
Republic, where it serves as a kind of moral metaphor for good kingship. He is discussing
the problem of when the protector becomes a tyrant—likening it to when the protector’s
behavior too closely resembles the shrine to Lycaean Zeus in Arcadia. He too recalls the
myth that whoever tastes of cannibalism. He notes that whoever tasted the bits of human
flesh which were reputedly mixed in with other sacrificial meats became a wolf. This is
important too in a social sense. In medieval and early modern times, vampires and
werewolves were seen as aristocratic parasites. cf. Plato, Rep., VIII. D-E.

 

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42

Pausanias stated that he believed the myth of Lycaon, saying it had been a story
from the early days.61 He also believed that the story reflected an earlier, hoary age
when gods and men co-mingled, and visited each other’s homes.62 He also reports a
folklore belief (M70001) that since the time of Lycaon, a man was metamorphosed into
a wolf at the time of sacrificing to Lycaean Zeus. If the wolf-man abstained from eating
human flesh, he would not remain a wolf forever, but would regain human form at the
end of that time. If he did try human meat, he would be lycanthmpic forever.63

The name of Lycaon was related to the Greek word for wolf, MJKOQ So too were
the titles of the many institutions Pausanias reports that the king founded Lycaon founded
the city of Lycosura, which he placed on the mountain called Mount Lycaeus. He
surnamed Zeus Lycaeus, and instituted a games festival in his honor, called Lycaean
Games (dyavoc MSicouoc). Also, Pausanias reports on a town named Lycuria which was

near the boundaries of Pheneus and Cleitor.64 This was probably the region which

 

6" z'bz'd., I. 236—240.
6‘ '1..th 55. 137:2) atom/«Sax! éK nalatou." Paus., VIII. 2. 4.

52 Augustine reflects similar views. He too notes the Lycaon story, citing as his source
Pliny, whose information Augustine believed to be derived from the fourth century B.C.
sculptor Scopas. Aug., De Civ. Dei.,XVIII. 17; cf. Pliny, NH, 4. 21.

63 .
Pausanaias, VIII. 2. 6.

6“ z'bz‘d., VIII. 19. 3.

 

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43

produced the obscure Arcadian poet "Lycian Olen," to whom Pausanias refers.65 Too,
the father of Arcadian Polybius was named Lycortus.“

In addition, the root for wolf—MSK—appeared abundantly in Arcadian names and
words. Here, one especially intriguing point emerges: kings with the "Lyc" prefix in their
name seem to have fared poorly in the eyes of history.67 More specifically, they were
sometimes seen as cruel. Conversely, the reigns of such rulers were often sandwiched in
between kind and benevolent rulers, who did not have the ”lyc" prefix in their names. For
example, we read that Lycurgus, the eldest son, ruled the kingdom after the death of his
father Aleus. Pausanias reports him as being a treacherous ruler who was known for
killing a certain warrior named Areithous in an unfair fight.63 A closer examination of
the king list provided by Pausanias reveals much in this regard:

——Pelasgus: Introduced huts, warm clothing, and taught which plants were good

to eat. Linked with herbivorism. Said to have introduced the eating of acorns and
oak trees.69

 

6‘ ibid., VIII. 21. 3.
6“ ibid., 19. 1.

67 Ulysses’ grandfather in the Odyssey, a man apparently known for thievery and
cunning, was named Autolykos. Homer, 0d., 19. 394; Buxton, "Wolves and Werewolves,"
64.

6” z'bz‘d., VIII. 4. 10.

69 Many inhabitants of Arcadia/ Pelasgia kept this dietary regime with an almost
religious zeal, causing the Pithian priestesses to refer to the men there as "acorn eaters
(Bdlavrm) (2701). The folk of the area identified three sorts of trees of "oak" trees. The
second type was named "edible oaks (rat; ¢nyog)." With regard to the subsequent reign
of Lycaon, this point is especially interesting. Lycaon’s crime of cannibalism not only
was generally offensive, but it occurred in a region where religious dietary restrictions
hint at vegetarianism. Lycaon’s contemporary Cecr0ps would not sacrifice anything with

a spirit in it—anything animal, that is. ibid., VIII. 1. 6; VIII. 2. 2-3.

 

 

 

 

44

--Lycaon: Cannibal. Tried to kill Zeus. Was cursed by the gods by being turned
into a wolf, etc.7°

-—Nyctimus: Eldest son of Lycaon. His reign was a time of building in which
Lycaon’s other sons founded cities in the region.71

—-Arcas: Namesake of Arcadia. Introduced cultivation and bread baking. Divided
his land among his three sons Azan, Apheidas, and Elatus.72

——Cleitor: Probably re-unifier of Arcadia, after its division between the sons of
Aras.73

--Aepytus: son of Elatus. Succeeded to power since Cleitor had no children.
Killed by a snake bite.74

-—Aleus: Built sanctuary in Tegea to Athena Alea. Made Tegea the capitol.75

—-Lycurgus: Unfair fighter, treacherous.“

This king list provided by Pausanias is generally a list of stable, even benevolent
rulers. The rulers which provide grist for Arcadia’s gruesome reputation all have the "lyc"
prefix in their name. Pausanias himself seems fairly oblivious to the region’s gruesome

reputation, reporting his careful descriptions of geography and culture without much

 

7° ibt'd., VIII. 2. 1-4.
7‘ ibid., vm. 3. 1-2.
72 Elatus migrated to Phocis and founded Elateia. He may have provided the link

Pausanias makes between Arcadian sheep-skin coats and the coats worn in Phocis during
his own time. ibid., VIII. 4. 2-4.

73 ibid., VIII. 4. 5-6.
7“ ibid., VIII. 4. 7.

75 ibid., VIII. 4. 8-10.
7‘ ibid., VIII. 4. 10.

 

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attention to the area’s importance in the history of nascent western folklore. He did
intentionally seek out the town of Nonacris, named after the wife of Lycaon. He also
notes an Arcadian clan, the Cynaetheans, who had a spring in their area which was
famous because a drink of its water would heal a man who had been bitten by a rabid
dog.77 Here again, one notes the prevalence of dog and wolf lore in Arcadia, as well as
the oft debated link between rabies and lycanthropy. Pausanias notes that the site was in
barely Visible ruins. But for the most part, Arcadia was just anOther of the regions
Pausanias discussed. The prevalence of lycanthropy is little noted.

Another important shape-shifting fable also comes from Arcadia. It concerns
Lycaon’s daughter Callisto, which is interesting, since it demonstrates yet more
misfortune which seems to surround Lycaon, uniquely. This fable was apparently one of
the many generic, widely told folk tales of the Greeks (1.43m 65 to: Mo/mva m6
éMcrivtbv).7.8 Callisto was loved and seduced by Zeus. Ever-knowing of her husband’s
dalliances, Hera turned Callisto into a bear, which Artemis, showing her support for Hera,
promptly shot with one of her arrows. Zeus, according to Pausanias, then turned Callisto

into the Great Bear constellation described by Homer.79

 

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79 Pausanias also reports that Callisto, after being turned into a bear by Hera, bore a
son in her womb. This was apparently Areas, since no other son is mentioned. Before
Artemis shot Bear-Callisto, Zeus sent Hermes to rescue the unborn infant before turning
Callistro into a constellation. Despite the myth about Callisto’s metamorphosis into a
constellation, the Arcadians apparently also claimed that they knew where Callisto had
been buried. Ibid., VIII. 3. 6-7; cf. Homer, 0d., 5. 272.

 

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46

Several other werewolf—like metamorphosis stories also existed in antiquity.
Apuleius tells the story of the robber Thrasyleon, who donned a bear-skin to help himself
and his fellow thief gain entrance to the home of a certain Demochares, who collected
exotic beasts. This shows some similarity with later stories of werewolves donning wolf-
skin to facilitate their metamorphosis. Thrasyleon was ultimately cornered by some men
and slain. Apuleius never says that he was a shape-shifter, but the costume seemed to
have worked fairly well, since the behavior of the man inside grew appropriately
animalistic.”

Ovid too tells a story which does not necessarily specifically imply the werewolf,
but which does indeed have the wolf acting as the dispenser of divine wrath.81 Here, a
wolf comes and ravages Trachis as a retribution for Peleus’ murder of Phocus. The wolf
kills not out of hunger, but out of malice and bloodlust.82 The king’s wife Alcyone
pleads with her husband not to fight the wolf. She and Peleus climb a tall lighthouse
tower and pray to Nereid—the local sea goddess. Only when Peleus’s entreaties stir his

wife Thetis does Nereid turn the wolf into marble.83
Other stories are far more specific in describing shape~shifting. Philostratus, in his

life of Apollonius, tells of the time that a plague was raging in Ephesus. Apollonius was

8" Apul., Met., 4. 21.

81 The English word "monster" is derived from the Latin verb monstrare, which
means to show, or point out. Thus, the monster was a device by which the gods "showed"
their anger with humankind.

82 Ovid, Met., 11. 345-409.

83 z'bid., 11. 384-390; Nereid was also associated with Psamathe, who was the mother
of slain Phocus.

 

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summoned. He led a group of the Ephesians down to the famous theater, where an image
of an avenging deity was erected. A ragged beggar stood nearby, and Apollonius, with
his prescience, told the crowd to stone him. The crowd reluctantly did. Subsequently the
beggar’s demonic nature was quickly revealed When he had been sufficiently stoned,
Apollonius bade the crowd remove the stones, whereupon they found a great Molossian
dog. This too hints at later werewolf lore, in which the metamorphosis reverses itself after
the death of the shape-shifter. That the dog was rabid may hint at some remote link
between hydrophobia and the belief that a man could become a beast.84
But the most specific example of modern werewolf folklore is found in Petronius.
One of Trimalchio’s dinner companions tells the following story. He had been a slave
living in a home belonging to Gavilla. Here, he fell in love with Melissa, the wife of
Terentius, the innkeeper. After the innkeeper’s death, the youth was joined by another
friend—a soldier.“ The two went among the graveyards where the soldier friend
stripped himself, urinating around his clothes in a circle.86 Obviously, this behavior

evoked images of canine territorial procurement. Then his friend turned into a wolf, and

 

8‘ Philostratus, VA., IV. 10; remember as well the Arcadian well whose waters were
believed to cure men and women of rabies. cf. above, ff. 56.

85 In a remarkably modem-sounding idiom, Petronius writes that the soldier was as
"brave as hell—fortis tamquam Orcus." Pet., Sat, 62.

8° Stripping off one’s clothes figures heavily into many of these werewolf and shape-
shifting accounts. As noted previously, Apuleius’ Pamphile stripped-off her clothes before
changing into an owl. Too, Pliny gives an account of Arcadian lore which depicted a
member of a family who stripped off his clothes, swam across the river, and turned into
a wolf. If he avoided eating human flesh for nine years, he would regain human shape.
A1ong with the ’su-ipping’ motif, one also notes the presence of “crossing running water"
which has been previously noted. Pliny, NH, 8.81. cf. Apul, Met, H1. 21.

 

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48

ran off to the woods. More, his clothes had turned to stone, apparently as a result of the
werewolf’s action. The story, as told by Petronius, is remarkably like similar accounts of
the modern horror genre:

The moon shone as if at noon. We came among the gravestones. My man

began to venture toward the stones. I sat singing, and counting the stars.

Then, as I looked again at my comrade, he undressed himself and put all

his clothes near the road. I was too scared to breathe. I stood as if dead.

And he suddenly became a wolf—do not think me to jest about it. After

he was a wolf, he began to howl and fled into the woods?7

The terrified young man made his way back to Melissa’s house, where the
frightened young lady reported that a wolf had burst into the inn, slaughtering the
sheep.“ One of the slaves had pierced the wolf’s neck with a spear. The next day the
young man headed to his home. Passing the place where the soldier had left his clothes,
the young man found a pool of blood. Obviously the wounded wolfman had been there.
Upon reaching his home, the young man found the soldier lying in bed with a doctor

attending a wound in his neck. Immediately, he knew his friend to be a werewolf:

"Intellex illum versipellem esse (pellis- clothed in skins.)."89

 

8" Luna lucebat tamquam meridie. Venimus inter monumenta. Homo meus coepit ad
stelas ire. Sedeo ego cantons et stelas numero. Deinde ut respexi ad comitem, ilIe exuit
se et omnia vestimenta prope viam posuit. Mihi anima in naso erat; stabam tamquam
mortuus. At ille subito lupus factus est. Nolite me iocari putare. Postquam lupus facrus
est, ululare coepit et in silvas fugir. ibid., 63.

8” Recall the natural link between sheep and wolves that appears here again, as well
as in the report of Pausanias. cf. above. ff. 37.

*9 ibid., 64.

 

 

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49
CONCLUSION

The metamorphosis beliefs outlined in this chapter could perhaps be considered
quite primitive. They were the ones most readily associated with folklore and popular
culture. These tales told during the Hellenistic period were clearly pre-cursors to later
legends of vampires and werewolves. But they were more than just that. They were the
most elemental manifestations of shape-shifting beliefs found in a variety of Other guises.
They all reflected a basic belief in forces capable of fundamentally changing a human
being’s most readily evident attribute: his shape. The beliefs outlined here express this
notion in a brutally self-evident way. Men and women could change into Various beasts,
including bird-like creatures and wolves. And as often as not, to procure such a
transformation was to procure a special power which elevated one person above the other.
Early accounts of "shape-shifting" revealed a power associated with bad but strong
peOple; malevolent witches, jealous gods, evil kings. Such beliefs had a great appeal for
many peOple, albeit for less than noble reasons. Shape-shifting was the petty occult’s
blaSphemous inversion of the more sacred metamorphoses offered by other faiths. Still,
they reflect rudimentary beliefs in something quite profound—a belief in the potential for
metamorphosis. This was the belief which played a central role in many of the religions
found in later antiquity. It was a belief that a power existed which could fundamentally
alter the human condition in a range of ways. It was an idea which could offer h0pe, as

well as terrify.

 

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CHAPTER 2

PAGAN ECSTATIC METAMORPHOSIS

Versions of metamorphosis found in shape-shifting folklore did indeed fascinate.
But they were almost exclusively focused on the physical body. Such a limited focus of
transformation could never hOpe to satisfy thinking men and women. The more
sophisticated realm of metamorphosis occured mentally, or spiritually. This was a more
intertesting proposition. Human consciousness is an enigma. This was as true in antiquity
as it is now. From Plato’s famous cave, to Paul’s dark glass, the finite limitations of
human reason and insight were a curse which most religions somehow sought to alleviate.
In Greco-Roman religion, a whole range of beliefs came to surround the struggle of
human beings to achieve a more enlightened consciousness. Many ancient western
religions came to offer experiences which could fundamentally impact the vofig, leaving
individuals forever changed This was one of the greatest achievements of the
metamorphosis. The means by which this enlightenment was often gained was the ecstatic
state.

The ecstatic state was one of the most readily observable phenomena found in both
ancient folklore and ancient religion. Such states took on several forms, including dreams.

Ecstasy touched on a variety of issues, including pr0phetic visions, spiritual revelation,

50

 

 

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51

and the manipulation of human free-will by divine or Otherwise supernatural beings. The

trance state had clear antecedents in the Classical World, but achieved maturity in the

Hellenistic Age, where it responded to a wide variety of personal human needs. Chief
among these was the simple need of many individuals for a new and enhanced outlook
on life—to see the world through rosier spectacles. This need helps to account for the
success of Hellenistic mysticism, and ultimately, Christianity. But not all ecstatic
experiences brought welcome forms of expanded insight. Sometimes such states were
horrifying, especially to those less educated for whom supernatural beings and occurences

were so often petty and horrifying. These forms of trance will be considered first.

AUTHORITARIAN TRANCE IN WI I CHCRAFI’ AND FOLKLORE

The metamorphosis of the mind was not always surrounded with the pleasantries
of abstract and mainstream religion. Sometimes the trance-state was a violent intrusion
into mortal thought life—a kind of psychological rape. Indeed, ancient folklore is replete
with stories attesting to the power of the supernatural realm to manipulate the mind of
men and women. Before looking at the larger manifestations of ecstatic states in Greco-
Roman religion, similar accounts of trance‘states in petty folklore and myth must be
considered. Many of these derive from stories of witchcraft which were popular during

the hellenistic and imperial periods. Again, one of the most important sources for such
stories is the Metamorphoses of Apuleius. Apuleius describes the three great enchantresses

of his novel, Meroe, Panthia and Pamphile as classic "nightwitches," who draw on several

 

 

 

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52

of the great mythological themes of trance inducing powers which antiquity granted to
its most powerful sorceresses. Of these, Meroe and Panthia exhibit skills of what to
observers of more modern folklore will appear as the hypnotic skills often associated with
such occult beliefs as demonic possession and vampirism.1
The novel’s protagonist Lucius was born a gentleman, but his business in Thessaly
had taken him on a tour of the streets, the baths, and the inns that were all part of the rich
folk life enjoyed by the empire’s lower-classes.2 The social stratum in which magic and
mythology blended into a rich brew which was actually a kind of folk religion.
Ultimately, Lucius’ adventures, borh as man and ass, led him to the more universal and
abstract cult of Isis. Indeed, the goddess was clearly presented as a balm for the great ills
caused by Lucius’ dabbling in the murky and often fiendish theology of the masses. But
that fact in no way diminishes the power and significance of the events described in the
novel’s first three books.
The major incidents of witchcraft occurred in Thessaly, which is described as the

birthplace of sorcery and magic.3 The first being with supernormal powers encountered

 

1 As chapter 1 have already noted, vampires-—or beings which are close ancient
equivalents to more modern notions of vampires—were themselves frequently associated
with metamorphosis, or shape-shifting.

2 Apul., Met., 1.23.

3 ibid., 2.1; The belief in Thessaly as the seat of powerful witchcraft is mentioned by
other ancient authors as well, notably Lucan, whose de Bella Civile notes that the witches
there were powerful enough to compel the gods themselves to obey their spells and
wishes. The great sorceress Erictho was said to be able to call the gods away from all
altars but her own (VI. 445-455). Moreover, the region was believed to produce a wealth
of herbs which were potent ingredients in any magic potion. Medea herself was said to
have collected plants there (VI. 435-440). The plants were strong enough to thwart fate,
as they were able to shorten a man’s life-span, despite his allotted fate (VI. 610). Lucan,

 

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‘ Apul,
”bid, 1

 

 

 

53

in the book is Meroe. Her story was related to Lucius by Arisromenes. While travelling,
Aristomenes has met an old friend, Socrates, in the baths. Socrates had just come from
the home of Meroe, where he was a guest. Significantly, he already appeared to have
been subject to some kind of attack which sucked away some of his life force. He was
so "meager and sallow" that Aristomenes barely recognized him.4 Socrates related how
he had visited a certain Meroe. More, there are implications that Meroe had bewitched
her quite handsome young guest. Here, already, readers see subtle evidence of trance
induction, or at least authoritarian manipulation of the human psyche. Socrates claimed
that although Meroe was quite aged, he found himself attracted to her. Indeed, in telling
his story, Socrates scarcely seemed able to believe his own actions; not only did he take
Meroe to bed, but he gave her all his possessions.’

That night, Aristomenes and Socrates shared a room in Meroe’s house. Meroe
came for revenge, apparently angered that Socrates had spoken ill of her in his
conversation with Aristomenes. With her was her sister and ally in witchcraft Panthia.
Next occurred a veritable vampire attack. Many comparisons with vampire mythology can
be made here. The bags out Socrates’s throat with a dagger, collecting his blood in a
bladder, while a terrified Aristomenes feigned sleep. In terms of blood, comparisons with

modern vampire literature are obvious. In addition to the collecting of blood, beliefs in

 

de Belle Civile, VI.
4 Apul., Met., 1.6.

5 ibid., 1.7.

 

 

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54

hypnotic induction and trance states, which it was believed vampires could induce in their
victims, are also apparent.

To the surprise of his companion Aristomenes, Socrates awakened, alive, the next
morning, complaining of shadowy and horrible nightmares. Also, he appeared to have had
even more of the life sucked out of him.6 Several important points emerge from this
story. First, though the hags’ entrance is described as noisy and even violent, Socrates did
not awaken. Here, Apuleius may be describing an ability that witches were believed to
have—hypnotizing their victims, so that they helplessly succumbed without resistance.
Indeed, the witches of Thessaly were said to be able to charm people to sleep,
specifically, those individuals guarding corpses which the witches hoped to molest.7
There is little other plausible explanation as to why a young man like Socrates would
submit to such an attack from two older women.

The next morning, Socrates had vague recollections of the prior night’s horrors.
This seems a clear enough description of something which modern psychologists have
labeled a "simple or initiatory trance." PeOple thus immobilized are more or less catatonic.
At the same time, they are, at some level, conscious of activity surrounding them, and
will remember it the next day as if a dream.8 Such a state went on to become a common

theme in literature. It plays a particularly significant role in Victorian works, where it was

 

6 ibid., 1. 1243.
7179121., 2. 22.

8 As an important work on this too-little understood topic, of. Mayo, Herbert, "Trance
Sleep, Somnambulism, and Trance-Waking," in The Origins of Dracula, ed. by Clive
Leatherdaly, (London: William Kimber Books, 1987), 191.

 

 

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55

used by a moralistic audience to justify their own fascination with evil and/or sexuality.
A comparison of Apuleius with similar scenes in Gothic horror works may be unorthodox,
but is extremely instructive in this regard. In The Golden Ass, upon waking, Socrates

appeared "emaciated, and with the pallor of boxwood."9 Moreover, he harbored surreal

recollections of the previous, terrifying night:

. . . yet truly, while sleeping, I saw in my dreams that I was slit in the
throat. I felt the pain of my slit throat, and I thought my very heart to be
wrenched from me; and now I am weakened in spirit, my knees tremble,
my gait is unsteady, and I want some food to strengthen my spirits.10

There is a great similarly between this scene in Apuleius, and a famous scene in
the Victorian novelette Carmilla, by the Irish writer Sheridan Lefanu. Here, the young

heroine Laura describes her dim recollection of a nocturnal attack by the vampire

Carmilla:

I had a dream that night that was the beginning of a very strange agony.
I cannot call it a nightmare, for I was quite conscious of being asleep. . .
I saw, or fancied I saw, the room and its furniture just as I had seen it last,
except that . . . I saw something moving around the foot of the bed, which
at first I could not diStinguish . . . I felt a stinging pain as if two large
needles darted, an inch or two apart, deep into my breast.11

 

9 Apul., Met., 1. 17.
1° ". . . verum, tamen et ipse per somm'um iugulari visas sum mihi. Nam et iugulum
z'szum doluz' et cor z'psum mihi avelli putavi et nunc etiam spiritu deficior et genua quatior
et gradu titubo et aliquid cibatus refovendo spiritu desidero." Ibid., 1. 18.

11 Lefanu, Sheridan, Carmilla, in Novels of Mystery from the Victorian Age, (New
York: Pilot Press, 1945), 598.

 

 

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56
A similar passage can be found in Bram Stoker’s definitive work Dracula. In her
journal, Mina Murray records a strange experience related by her friend Lucy Westema,
who is being victimized by Dracula:
I didn’t quite dream; but it all seemed to be real. . . . Then I had a vague
memory of something long and dark with red eyes . . . and something very
sweet and bitter all around me at once . . . and there was a singing in my
ears, as I have heard there is to drowning men; and then, everything
seemed to pass away from me.12
Another tale from the often meandering Metamorphoses appears later in the novel,
again implying the subtle manipulation of human will by sorcery. Here, the novel
describes a certain baker’s wife who had been caught in adultery. Subsequently, she
divorced her husband, and undertook to the "familiar arts of women, (familiares
feminarum artes)" which were synonymous with witchcraft.l3 Armed with these
newfound skills, the spurned adulteress then decided to do one of two things: either she
would win back her husband’s love, or she would have him attacked by a spirit. Failing
in the first endeavor, the sorceress conspired to send the spirit of a woman killed violently
to destroy her ex-husband.14 One day, at noon, then, a disheveled, ragged, half-naked

woman with unkempt hair mixed with Cinders appeared at the baker’s. The woman gently

took the baker by the hand. Here again, as in the case of Aristomenes, the lack of a

 

‘2 Stoker, Bram, Dracula, (Toronto: Bantam Books, 1981), 104.

13 Apul., Met., IX. 29.

14 Note again the linkage between these ancient beliefs and more modern folklore
notions. Violent and/or untimely deaths were traditionally the ones which prompted
restless spirits to linger among the living. More, sometimes suicides were said to become
vampires. Cf. Cavendish, Richard, The Powers of Evil in Western Religion, Magic and
Folk Belief, (New York: Putnam’s, 1975), 98.

 

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57

struggle must be noted, despite the woman’s horrific appearance. Pretending that she had
a secret, she lured him into a private room. Later, however, neither of them returned, so
that the servants, now done with chores, knocked on the door. When there was no
response, they finally broke down the door and entered. The mysterious and terrifying
woman was gone, while the man was hanging dead from the rafters.15

Again, this seems a use of some kind of trance—state, hypnosis, or simple demonic
possession. There is no mention of a struggle, either in the Baker’s entrance into the
room, nor while he was in there. Hence, the subtle implication seems to be not that he
was forcefully hanged, but that he was somehow seduced into suicide. After all, he had
cooperated docilely with the woman up to entering into the room. Why would
suggestibility and submissiveness have diminished upon his entering the room? The
suggestion of suicide is further enhanced when his spirit later appeared to his daughter
in a dream, and told her that he went to hell. Suicides often were believed to go to hell.
More important, he told her that he was bewitched (larvatus), and that thus "she sent him
forth to hell."16

Other stories also depict witches who charm the wills of mortals with apparently
hypnotic powers or spells. Such a state was caused by a variety of means, including
potions and incantations. In trying to rejuvenate Aeson, father of Jason, for example,

Medea brought him out for her magic rituals. Here, Ovid reports that the old man was

‘5 Apul., Met., IX. 30.

’6 ". . . ad inferos demeasset." ibid., IX. 31.

 

 

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58

"stretched in full sleep by her incantation."l7 The ablative carmine, of course, comes
from the Latin word "carmen," or song. The word can also mean recitation or incantation,
as it probably does here, though the musical connotations should not be overlooked.
Music was sometimes associated with inducing trance states, or bewitching men and
women. The sirens’ "song" is perhaps the most famous example. The famous story taken
from the Odyssey has elements of hypnotic induction. Here again, one sees the kind of
mixture between authoritarian hypnosis and erotic seduction observable in Apuleius, and,
later, in classic European vampire lore. It is important to note that not only do the sirens
tempt Odysseus with clear sexual and sensual evocation, but they offer, albeit
disreputably, a refreshing and "relaxing" respite from his weary travels. "They know,"
they assert, his long and arduous toils at the walls of Troy. This story should be seen in
psychological terms, rather than just in sexual ones. The sirens seem to offer Ulysses
peace, and the obvious temptation they offer is to submit—to surrender to their haunting,
musical call.18

Music appears again, much later, in another one of the Greco-Roman world’s
relatively few references to anything which could be construed to resemble formal
hypnotic induction. The writer, again, is Apuleius, whose Apologia contains what ER.

Dodds believed to be the only clear example of formal hypnotic induction in antiquity.19

 

’7 . . in plenos resolutum carmz'ne somnos. . . Ovid, Met., 7. 252.

13 Homer, 0d., x11. 184-191.

19 One would hope that in light of the many examples offered that Dodds’s rather
sweeping statement could be somewhat reconsidered. Dodds, E.R., The Ancient Concept
0f Progress, (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1973), 200.

 

 

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59

While courting a wealthy woman in Oea, site of modern Tripoli, Apuleius was accused
of witchcraft. Specifically, it was alleged that he had taken a young boy off alone
somewhere and bewitched him with incantations.20 Though vehemently proclaiming his
innocence, Apuleius did concede that he had heard children may be lulled into an
oblivious state through the use of music or sweet smells.21
Music appeared again as an instrument of enchantrnent in Ovid, when Mercury
charmed the one-hundred eyed Argus to sleep, using a combination of music, and a long-
winded narrative regarding the origins of the reed.22 Somewhat similarly, Jason used
both an enchanted potion and a long recitation to lull to sleep the dragon-like monster
guarding the Golden Fleece.23 And again in Ovid, the mythologist reports that Medea,
after rejuvenating Aeson, went on to work her magic with Pelias. Here, again, one reads
that the old man had been placed into a "death-like sleep ("neci similis . . . somnus),"
through the use of magic words and incantations.24
Potions were often used to induce this sleep-state as well. This has already been
observed above in mention of the story of Jason and the Golden Fleece.25 Alcohol

played a key role—indeed some would say central role—in the Bacchic rites. In referring

 

2° Apul., Apol., 42.

21 Ibid., 43; too, the devotees of Bacchus were said to have been called to the
mountains by music. Euripides, Bacchae, 680-700.

22 Ovid, Met., I. 680-270.
23 [bz'd., VII. 149-158.
“ ibz‘d., VH. 326-327.

25 cf. rm. 22.

 

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60

to the nightwitches of Thessaly, Lucan wrote that they could corrupt men’s minds without
any potion—thereby implying the presumptive use of potions, at least on the part of some
witches. The strength of Erictho and the witches of Thessaly was that they did not need
such aids.26 Moreover, Ovid shows Demeter putting a young child to sleep with the use
of poppy juices, a story which may hint at the use of opium.27
The simple use of the fixating gaze, or authoritarian command, could also produce
states of trance. Aulus Gellius reports that certain African peoples could cast spells by
voice and tongue (voce atque lingua) which Were capable of having devastating effects
upon such natural phenomena as creps. Similarly, he asserts that people among the
Illyrians could kill with their mere gaze—an odd precursor of EurOpean beliefs in the
"evil eye. " Women and men possessing this gift were said to be identifiable by two pupils
in each eyeball.28 Finally, Lucan reports that Thessalian witches could attract unmarried
men by the "magic turning of the twisted thread"—a clear reference to visual fixation and
enchantnuent.29
Finally, one of mythology’s most famous enchantresses must be mentioned: Circe,
as depicted in Homer’s Odyssey. She combined many of the characteristics of

psychological enchantrnent discussed thus far. Moreover, there are overtones, albeit subtle

 

25 Lucan, de Bella Civile, VI. 458-460.

27 Ovid, Fasti, 4. 531-34; Kritikos, PG, and Papadaki, S.N., "The History of the
POppy and of Opium and their Expansion in Antiquity, in Bulletin of Narcotics, XIX,
1967, 23.

28 Aulus Gellius, Noctes Atticae, IX. IV. 8; cf. Pliny, NH., VII. 8; Augustine, de
Civz'tate Dez’, XVI. 8.

2’ "Traxerent tortz’ magica vertigine fill." Lucan, De Bello Civile, Vi. 458—460.

 

 

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61

ones, of the kind of supernatural trance induction found in the later stories of Meroe,
Erictho, Medea, and others. The island of the femme fatale is presented as a kind of 10tus
cave, where the men are lured by the potential of soft living, wine and female
companionship. Circe’s most fearsome power is her ability to make the men forget their
native lands. This is accomplished not only with feminine beauty and material luxury, but
drugs as well.30 This power lures the men into her palace, whereupon she changes them
into swine—after they have eaten her drugged repast, and had Circe wave a wand over
each of their heads.

One sees the same kind of emphasis on human will, and the surrender thereof, that
is witnessed in the story of the sirens. Some may even see misogynous overtones in such
stories—a kind of vagina dentata motif, warning strong, warrior-like males against the
dangers of flabby living in the arms of beautiful women. This element does enter the
Circe story. But the danger is real and apparent at the outset, as evidenced in the
suspicions of Odysseus’ companion Eurylochus, who refrains from entering Circe’s home,
because of "suspecting a plot (otociuevoq 567L0V)."31 Circe’s lure is no simplistic magic
hocus-pocus. Circe herself implies that there is more of a psychological aspect to her
spells, when she tells Odysseus—who did not turn into a swine as the other men do,
thanks to the help of Hermes—that his mind (voog) is inflexible—that he has the mental

fortitude to withstand her Spells.32 The passage in its original Greek means something

 

30’". . . that the ancestral home might be wholly forgotten; . . . {vet nayxi) KetGor'octo
nortptdog mtg." Homer, 0d., X. 235.

3‘ ibid., x. 258.

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62

like "your heart is strong,“ for it literally reads the "mind in your cheSt"; in other words,
the mental spirit (voog) that resides in a warrior’s breast. Later, Odysseus not only
overcomes sexual temptation, but he overcomes physical appetites in general, refusing to
eat from Circe’s abundant banquet table until he has convinced her to return the shapes
of his men—which she does, also making them younger, thinner and more handsome.33

Odysseus resisted the psychological seduction of one of antiquity’s most beautiful
and powerful witches. Like the trance inducing spells of other witches like Medea, Meroe
and Erictho, Circe’s magic was not simply the manipulation of mere nature, but the
overcoming of men’s wills. Hence, even though Odysseus resisted surrendering himself
to Circe only with the direct warning and help of Hermes, his victory over Circe is one
of mythology’s great examples of a mortal’s overcoming a supernatural creature. More,
Odysseus as a man, in an obvious undertone of the myth, resisted Circe’s potent sexuality.
When he finally bedded her, it was on his terms. He not only outsmarted a goddess, he
channeled his male sexual impulses. It was no small coincidence that this lover of Circe
was the only man to hear the Siren’s song and live to tell the story.34 But Homer’s age
was an age of heroes. In the later tales of Apuleius and others, petty mortals like Socrates
and the Baker would lose both their lives and their souls in the face of such subtle but
unrelenting power. This was the dark side of the trance-like state, and the metamorphosis

of the VO’OQ which often accompanied it.

 

33 ibid., X. 382-387.

3“ ibid., 333-347.

 

 

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63
TRANCE AND METAMORPHOSIS IN PAGANISM

How did the trance-like state help to achieve a metamorphosis of the mortal voOg?
Clearly the trance was an important part of Hellenistic folklore. Similar states existed in
the religion of Greece, and the subsequent HelleniStic world, appearing in sacred
mythology and in the rituals of religious life. Trances were crucial components in the
transformation of human psyche which occurred in much Greco-Roman literature. The
trance state was a feature in a kind of metamorphosis power which had a full spectrum
of transforming potential. These forms of consciousness ranged from a state capable of
increasing a warrior’s fighting abilities to a state filling a mother with such religious
fervor that she was willing to kill her own son.

Probably the most important term relating to the trance state derives fiom the
Greek word exotaotg, etymologically related to the English word ecstasy. Executor; is
a compound term formed from two basic Greek words. First, the 8K is from the adverbial
prefix 85,, which means "from out of," literally, as it does in English.” 21:ng derives
from the Greek verb 10mm, which means "to stand." Generally, Greek words which add
an cm; ending to the root word imply an abstract connotation, similar to English nouns
ending in "ing."36 Hence, stasis means, literally, a standing. Thus, in modern legal
vernacular, stasis means the place where things stand, or established precedent. ékG‘tOtO‘tg,

then, means, literally, a standing outside of oneself—a state of being "beside oneself."

 

 

35 cf. exodus, exit, expatriate etc.

36 For example, the word catharsis (Kaeapmg). which means a cleansing.

 

By its
consciousness.
V

' ' '1
Helen “ac m.

of Dionysus. 1
example of er
is the French:
be found in
found in Her
It has
sures are su]
more expliei
consciousne:
denve fI‘Om
for which H

their volitio

Ric:
DionySOS, :
COmme 13 <
“than."

 

 

 

 

 

64

By its very definition the term ecstasy implied a profound metamorphosis of
consciousness. Still, much controversy surrounds the role of ecstasy in Greek and
Hellenistic religions. More specifically, there is the whole issue of when and how this
important feature of ancient religion arrived into the western world. It is most generally
believed that the practice of attaining or experiencing ecstatic states came from the cult
of Dionysus, during the Classical period. Homer, for example, is often said to contain no
example of ecstatic religion. One of the leading scholars focusing on this important topic
is the Frenchman Jeanmaire, who argued that no example of demonic possession was to
be found in Homer.37 Still, examples of divine manipulation of mortals’ psyches are
found in Homer—aside from the many dream sequences.

It has already been observed how possession or the use of authoritarian trance
states are subtly implied in the Homeric myths of both Circe and the Sirens. Other even
more explicit examples exist. Virtually all of them involve some metamorphosis in human
consciousness, or perception. Indeed, heroic acts of courage characteristic of the age often
derive from divine dabbling in the human psyche. The anthropomorphic, meddling gods
for which Homer is so famous dabble not only in the physical affairs of humans, but in

their volition and spirits as well. Early in the book, in fact, Hera put it into Achilles

 

37 "Rien ne prouve que les Grecs, avant le soi-disant intrusion de la religion de
Dionysos, aient interpreté les acces de folie furieuse ou melancolique auu'ement que
comme la consequence d’un etat demoniaque, de l’intervention d’une puissance divine,
Batumv." Jeanmaire, H., Dionysus: Histoire du Culte de Bacchus, (Paris: Payot, 1951),
109; Dodds, The Greeks and the Irrational, 67.

 

 

”soul" to £111
ACthIlS in I‘-
exarnple whe
participle do:
The eonnorat

senses," Will

(tauntouou

Other
beings who '
by the great
Iliad. The g
Athena, wht
funofbam.
SUbsequentl
Ihis height:

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38 "em
hardened pg

39 HOm
so HOm
u

Hoin

‘2 ibid.

 

 

 

65

"soul" to call an assembly to discuss the plague by which Apollo was ravaging the
Achaens in revenge for the abduction of Chryseis.38

Dodds, too, noted that early implications of possession appear in the Odyssey—for
example when Melanetho refers to beggar Odysseus as émnatayausvog, which is a
participle deriving from the verb exnatdtoow, which means, literally, to "knock out."39
The connotations are clearly that the disguised king of Ithaca was "knocked out of his
senses," which has at least some resemblance to later use of the term exotaotg.
Elsewhere, Odysseus is again referred to by one of the suitors as éttfttaotov othnmv
(emuodoltoetzto be touched), or the touched vagabond.4o

Other examples from Homer include far more explicit evidence of supernatural
beings who "touch" the minds of men. These examples often include direct intervention
by the great Olympian deities themselves. The most famous example comes from the
Iliad. The great Achaean warrior Diomedes was depicted as being helped in battle by
Athena, who favored both him and the Greeks.41 Before Diomedes embarked into the
fury of battle, Athena promised she would grant courage, strength and valor to Diomedes.
Subsequently, when Diomedes went to battle, he was taken by a vigor (@0942 Given

this heightened state of warlike arousal, Diomedes wounded both Aeneas and his

 

’8 "érct repeat." Homer, [1., 1. 54; recall also the passage in Exodus in which God
hardened Pharaoh’s heart.cf. Exodus 11: 11-12.

39 Homer, 0d., 18. 327; Dodds, The Greeks and the Irrational, 67.
4° Homer, 0d., 20. 377.

4‘ Homer, 11., 5. 5.

42 find, 5. 125.

 

raw

proteetor, Api
guest feat
heroic deeds
ether
Dion: (:5 to
lycaon. i.e.
goofs Too.
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ovetemphasi
Greek religir
would be pr
that of Dion
ln l
Charactensn
heroic wan-j

clear. Iodee

\
‘3 ibid.,
“ not,

45 11
~01

‘° ibid.,

47 Jean-

66

protector, Aphrodite."3 Later, again with the help of Athena, Diomedes achieved his
greatest feat: he wounded the immortal god Ares.“ This was indeed one of the greatest
heroic deeds found in the Iliad or anywhere else in classical mythology.

Perhaps the most telling testimony to the divinely inspired fury which prompted
Diomedes to such great deeds comes from the Trojan archer Pandarus. This son of
Lycaon, i.e. Pandarus, reports to Aeneas that he "knows not if he (Diomedes) be a
god?” Too, he asserts that "if he is the man whom I bespeak . . . he rages not thus
without some god.""‘5 The significance of the word ttodveeat here is hard to
overemphasize. It is directly linked to the word "mania," which plays heavily in later
Greek religious culture. The word expresses a frantic or delirious quality, which later
would be prevalent in Hellenic faith, especially in ecstatic and emodonal religions like
that of Dionysus.

In Homer, the word seems especially linked to war and represented a
characteristically archaic form of metamorphosis: the transformation of ordinary men into
heroic warriors.‘7 The word appears rarely, and mostly in the context of an odd sort of
battle hypnosis. But again, the link between the trance-state and metamorphosis seems

clear. Indeed, later Greek texts, most notably those associated with Dionysus, show the

 

43 ibid., 5. 121-380.

44 ibid., 5. 846.864.

‘5 "moor 015’ at 986; dottv." ibid., 5. 184.
‘6 ibid., 5.135.

‘7 Jeanmaire, Dionysus, 109.

 

smwua
Battle: of l
Ease-though
of "maria tr
of Dionysus:
stuck uith t
appears as tl
divine. and t
madness aln
Dionysus (11
warrior.
Sorn
some simila
some of the
beliefs in a
HennOlimo
in his nativ
1116 death 31

Seen Ariste

49 he

DiOflySus,"

so
Hon

 

67

state to be a highly important part of religion. The most important of these texts is the
Bacchae of Euripides, which is the story of Dionysus’ arrival into Thebes from the
East—though many scholars see him as indigenous to Greece. Even here, the relationship
of "mania" to warfare lingers on. The blind somhsayer Tieresias states that the "mania"
of Dionysus is similar to the "mania" of Ares. Hence, when soldiers at the battle front are
struck with the touch of a spear, "this mania also is from Dionysus."48 Indeed, Dionysus
appears as the most minor of figures in the Iliad, but clearly is perceived by Homer as
divine, and as part of the Homeric pantheon."9 Moreover, the connotations of Dionysian
madness already seem to have been extant, as evidenced by Homer’s reference to "mad
Dionysus (uawouefioro Aldo [60010)3‘50 Thus could divine lam/{0t transform the Greek
warrior.

Sometimes the transforming trance-state was linked to a form of virtual death—or
some similar condition in which the mind temporarily left the calla. This was not unlike
some of the zombie-like conditions made famous in Voodoo lore. It was a precursor to
beliefs in astral projection. Herodotus recounts the stories of two men, Aristeas and
Hermotimos, who had rather telling "out of the body experiences." Aristeas entered a shop
in his native Proconnesus, and dropped to the ground as though dead. When rumors of
the death and impending funeral began spreading, a stranger came up and said that he had

seen Aristeas on the road to Cyzicus. Returning to the shop, his relatives found Aristeas’

 

48 "uavta 8e mi 1006’ Sort Aiovo'ooo indoor." Euripides, Bacchae, 304-306.

49 Kraemer, Ross, "Ecstasy and Possession: The Attraction of Women to the Cult of
Dionysus," in Harvard Theological Review, 79, 55-80.

5° Homer, [1., 6. 132.

 

 

body was gor.
long poem, a:
spirit had for:
aeemin Her.
.3 15 ab‘c 1c
Mere
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since he gift
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diilnaOOn (it
blind Ponce
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he might pe
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of itself w;

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51
Hem

52 Apol

 

68

body was gone. For six years the man was missing. Finally, he returned home, with a
long poem, an arimaspea, which told how he had been possessed by Apollo and how his
spirit had journeyed the earth.’1 A similar story was told by Herodotus above regarding
a certain Hermotimos.’2 In both these stories, the soul is freed from the body for a time,
and is able to travel. This no doubt reflects some obscure belief in éicotaorg.”

More typically, uavta figured in the sort of trance state which became linked to
prophecy and divination. This state was more clearly connected with metamorphosis,
since the gift of prediction was an expansion of normal human mental powers. The link
was evident in the etymological correlation between the word uavta and the word
uavnkdg, which corresponds to the English word mantic. Bonds also existed between
this word and the word Mantis, which means seer: Significantly, oracular or mantic
divination appears little in Homer. The notable exception is the presence of Tieresias, the
blind prince of Thebes. He was a great soothsayer—so great that Persephone granted that
he keep his divination powers even in death, even though the other dead souls were only
shades. It was he whom Circe advised Odysseus to visit in the underworld, in order that
he might petition the sage’s counsel.“

Thus, a major strand of the Dionysian uavtoc was linked to divination. This in and

of itself was a major power which religious tranformation could offer the especially

 

5‘ Herodotus, 1. 14.
52 Apollonius, Mirabt'lia, 3.

53 Bremmer, Jan, The Early Greek Concept of the Soul, (New Jersey: Princeton
University Press, 83), 25-29.

54 Homer, 0a., 10. 490-495.

 

 
 

Its.)

30

 

 

 

69

zealous. Hence, responding to Pentheus’ denunciation of the new cult, Tieresias says,
"This spirit is a seer. For the mad Bacchic state holds much divining art."55 Similarly,
Tieresias again links traveller] with Bacchic possession, saying that "whenever the
powerful god should come into the body, he causes his seers to bespeak coming
events?“ Plutarch too said that Dionysus was an important part of ancient oracles.’7
In this sense, the Bacchic trance equates with the Apollonian seers and their pithy
foretelling.58 Hence, prophetic trance states, or "frenetic divination," played a central role
in ancient religious thinking.’9 Cicero referred to the ancient belief (vetus opinio) that

men are able to divine the future, noting that the Greeks call this gift uavnx‘n.

 

55 "uavrtg 5’6 Satumv 688. TO yelp Baxxefiotuov real to uorvrchdeg uorvrrrcnv
1:02.7th ext-:1." uavr®058g=mad; uavnrcn=the art of divination; cf. Euripides, Bacchae,
298-99.

5: "(Stow yap 6 080g cit; t0 GOLL’EKGU TOME, WW TC) uékhov To“; HEHHVOWQ
K0181." Note the idiom for possession: é'pxottat 'erg carpet. Euripides, Bacchae, 300-301.

57 Plut., Mor. Symp., 7. 10. 2; Livy reported that, after its arrival into Rome, the
Bacchic trance state was still a central part of the cult’s rites. Livy, 39. 13. 12; Otto,
Walter, F., Dionysus: Myth and Cult, trans. by Robert B. Palmer, (Bloomington, Indiana:
Indiana University Press, 1965), 143.

’8 Cicero reports that the Roman forefathers had thought that the brain, when in an
unconscious state, was essentially motivated by two central states: one was frenzy, the
other was dreams. The Romans believed that the chief vehicle for frenetic divination was
the Sibylline Oracle. Cic., De div., 1. II. 4. -

59 "La Divination intuitive est, pour le vulgaire, un art pratique; elle répond, avec la
pr0phétie, au besoin de connai‘tre l’avenir. Mais en meme tempes, elle nous met en
relation avec le divin. Aussi lorsque ces faits sont recontrés par une philsophe a
tendances religiouses, il négligera les résultats pratiques pour insister sur l’essence meme
de l’acte divinataire, qui est un certain mode d’union avec le principe supérieur, 11 y
cherchera non plus la prévision, mais l’intuition des principes. Bre’hier, Emile, Les Idées
Philosophiques et Religieuses de Philon d’Alexandrt'e, (Paris: Librarie Philsophique,
1950), 196.

 

 

Continuing, .
narne. divine:
disine. diyim

Perha

famous tales
ll'anting to
reports that
divine inspir
word to eitt
But
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exllerienee—

\

6° Cic.,

6‘ She '
love, Thou!
giflS by (h,
allOwed to
to ask that
Cerium“ 0.
Sibyls alld
ROUllCdgc,

62 n

63 Cf. u

 

70

Continuing, he asserted that the Romans improved upon the Greeks, giving the gift a
name, divinatio, which came from the same root word which informed the Latin adjective
divine, divimts.60

Perhaps the best of many examples of this connection between divination and
ecstasy comes from the Sibyl at Cumae, who brought Apollonian divination to Rome.61
One story, preserved by Ovid, is particularly telling. In one of ancient mythology’s
famous tales, Aeneas takes the golden bough (ramus aureus) and descends into Orcus.
Wanting to see his father’s ghost, Aeneas enters Cumae and seeks out the Sibyl. Ovid
reports that the Sibyl kept her eyes turned down, then "raised her (head), furious from
divine inSpiration."62 The word used here is furor, which is Latin’s closest corresponding
word to either utxvta, or t‘itccx’cow’tg.63

But the most important aspect of Bacchic ecstasy was not oracular in nature. An
emotional element of the Bacchic furor had its role in enhancing personal religious

experience—its role in providing a kind of social escape for the practitioners of the cult.

 

6° Cic., MW 1. 1. 1.

6‘ She had been a fair maiden beloved by Apollo, who offered bribes to obtain her
love. Though she never surrendered to Apollo that which he most wanted, she was given
gifts by the smitten deity anyway. Looking at a pile of sand, she asked that she be
allowed to live for as many years as there were grains of sand in the pile—but she forgot
to ask that she stay "forever young." She tells Aeneas she has already endured seven
centuries of life, and will have to endure many more. Ovid, Met., 14. 130-52; Park. H.W.,
Sibyls and Sibylline Prophecy in Classical Antiquity, ed. by H.W. Park, (New York:
Routledge, 1988).

62 ". . . erexit . . . deo furibunda recepto." Ovid, Met., 14. 108-

63 cf. "What do you do, oh demented one, which furor is with you." "Quid facis, o
demens? Quis te fitror." Ovid, Met., 3. 641.

 

 

In tenns of me'
be ecsnitic—to
of physical end
The "B
offering meani
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he emphasis
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APOSUC Paul

. 65 The (1
“Want isg
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“We!

 

71

In terms of metamorphosis, this was even more significant than the gift of divination. To
be ecstatic——to "stand outside" of oneself—was to be freed from the most basic realities
of physical existence. It was a liberating transformation.

The "Bacchic state" was important to practitioners in and of itself.64 Aside from
offering meaningful change in perspective, it was pleasurable. It both enhanced spiritual
life and provided an occasional outlet from social and cultural constraints. This explains
the emphasis on personal religious experience, and on mysticism, which can be said
lacking in Homeric religion.“ This emotional component no doubt accounted for much
of the cult’s popularity, which continued well into the Roman period. Bacchus’s use of
spiritual ecstasy and his rather physical, primitive world view were no doubt part of the

attraction.66 Also, wherever the Bacchus went in antiquity’s later centuries—to the

 

64 The issue of what function or purpose the ecstatic state served was also debated in
early Christian circles? Was its function practical or personal? Was it to serve the spiritual
community through prophetic utterances, or was it to provide an enhanced personal sacred
experience for the individual? This issue is one of the most famous issues which the
Apostle Paul discussed in his first letter to the infant church at Corinth. cf. 1 Cor. 11-14.

65 The dating of the cult’s emergence in Greek culture, as well as its origins, are
important issues which will not be debated here. This paper accepts Nilsson’s assertion
that Bacchus did not come to Greece until "just before the historical age." N ilsson, Martin
P., Greek Folk Religion, (New York: Harper Torchbooks, 1940), 35.

66 ". . . innombrables sont les sarc0phages (aux He et IIIe siecles) qui mettent 1e mort
sous le sauvegarde des figures dionysiaques. 11 pouvait pretendre a devenir universel,
unissant I’extase spirituelle a une philiSOphie biologique du monde. . . ." Bayot, Jean,
Histoire Politique et Psychologique de la Religion Romaine, (Paris: Bibliotheque
Historique, Payot, 1957), 215.

 

 

orient or the L
aclear Greeidl
That B:
god is appropr
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some to us fr
critics. Socrat:
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there can be :
indeed. the p
Thebes) won
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As th
Wasy is ma
Bacchic sirer

\

72

orient, or the Larinus Mundus—the art and iconography which accompanied him retained
a clear Greek/Hellenistic tone.”

That Bacchus should retain Hellenic appearance throughout his tenure as a living
god is appropriate. The uavta which he offered to the Hellenistic and Roman world was
decidedly Greek. Socrates, quoted by Plato in the Phaedrus, said that "the greatest goods
come to us from lion/{mm Similarly, apparently defending the state of tron/(0t from
critics, Socrates said, "they (those who had gone before) supposed mania neither a shame
nor a disgrace."69 Apparently the liberating p0tential of such a state was a powerful
attraction which the cult of Dionysus wielded Mania no doubt also accounts for the
hostility with which the cult was sometimes viewed, both in Rome, and apparently, if
there can be any truth read into Euripides’ Bacchae, in Thebes and all Greece as well.
Indeed, the play opens with Dionysus boasnng that he "drove all Cadmus’(the King of
Thebes) women raving forth (éfieunva, from expatvm=drive mad, enrage) from their
homes."7°

As the play progresses, the link between personal, inner metamorphosis and

ecstasy is made increasingly clear. The cult exerted an hypnotic fascination. Lured by the

Bacchic siren call, devotees flocked to the mountains to roam the slopes in feral abandon,

 

‘7 Foucher, Louis, "Le Culte de Bacchus sous l’Empire Romain," in Aufste'ig and
Niedergang der ro‘mischen Welt, II. 17. 2. 1981, 684-701, 684.

68"

1a winced t'c'ov amecbv mt‘t‘v yiwnton 511a uaviag." Plato, Phaedrus, 244a; cf.
Simon, Bennett, Mind and Madness in Ancient Greece: The Classical Roots of Modern
Psychiatry, (Ithica, New York: Cornell University Press, 1978), 185-87.

69"

. . out: odoxpav fwofivro 01586 oveifiog uaviav." ibid., 244a.
7° ibid., 36.

 

mesmerized b

.x .. .
letters. Sue
atone pointr
the very niclrn
"Clamour Kit

. ‘ ‘3 ,.
assocntea .

followed by l

M‘ The hC
Boetizt .\'0 do
Which refers
Kithara was
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Met., 3. 700‘

1 Euripic

*3 Euripit
see Nilsson,
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Paradox: My
109.

7‘ Pausar
fOr dancing"
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7S Ovid
Sleep." "Ille
Wine in Wh

73
mesmerized by raw emotions and passions which the cult had loosed from social

fetters."l "

Sweet it is to roam the mountains" (6’p810§=mountain living), sings Euripides
at one point, referring to the wild pleasures which could await one in the cult.72 Indeed,
the very nickname by which Bacchus sometimes was known—Bpofitttog (Bromius), or the
"Clamour King"—indicates just the kind of revelries with which his worship was

associated.73 There was no doubt much dancing and music." Often the revelries were

followed by heavy sleep, thus the iconography which often depicts sleeping Bacchus.”

 

7' The home region of the Bacchic rites was Cithaeron, a mountain in southwest
Boetia No doubt this mountain site’s name bears some link with the Greek word Kithara,
which refers to an ancient stringed instrument. Both musically and linguistically, the
Kithara was the forerunner of the modern guitar. This fact serves to highlight the
traditional bond that Dionysian mythology has always had with music. ibid., 62-63; Ovid,
Met., 3. 700-705.

72 Euripides, Bacchae, 36-37.

73 Euripides, Bacchae, 65; 84; 115; 143; et a1; For discussion of the term Bromius,
see Nilsson, Martin P., The Dionysiac Mysteries of the Hellenistic and Roman Age,
Sweden; Lund, 1957), 50, 62, ff. #92; cf. Gue’pin’s chapter on "Bacchic Joy." The Tragic
Paradox: Myth and Ritual in Greek Tragedy, (Amsterdam: Adolf M. Hakkert, 1968), 108-
109.

7‘ Pausanias wrote that he never understood why Homer called Panopeus "excellent
for dancing" until he went there and saw the Thyiades (Thyiades=Bacchae), Attic women
who traveled to Pamassos every year where they held sacred dances with the Delphic
women. (Note that Homer apparently knew of these rites.) Paus., Description of Greece,
10. 4.3; cf. Evans, Arthur, The God of Ecstasy: Sex Roles and the Madness of Dionysus,
(New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1988), 13; Too, Otto wrote that music and dance were
"the deepest expression of the Dionysians mania." Otto, Dionysus, 143; cf. Lawler,
Lillian, The Dance in Ancient Greece, (London: A. and C. Black, 1964), 74-76; For
discussion of the daily use of music and hymns in the temple life of later paganism, in
general, see, N ilsson, Martin, P., "Pagan Divine Service in Late Antiquity," in Harvard
Theological Review, 38, 66.

7’ Ovid depicted the god: "He was seen to stagger, heavy with unmixed wine and
sleep." "Ille mero somnoque gravis titubare videtur." Ovid, Met., 3. 608; Also, recall the
scene in which the Bacchic women Ion, Autonoe and Agave are discovered the morning

 

indeed the re
attrition. Teir
0.11911) of dai
Cadmus. she:
even logic szr
Pm o
imbibing of r
slid not merel
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exceptions. (
divinations \

\

after some 01

.6 "have
will, Whicl
a Sliflhngly
chapter [hm
he used Mg
Word is agai
m desen'b'mI
"V 5°th

74

Indeed, the restful, heavy sleep which followed the festivities was also part of the
attraction. Teiresias points out that the God gave the gift of sleep, and the "forgetfulness"
(M1911) of daily ills.76 The "irrational" quality of these rites is further emphasized by
Cadmus, when he pits the Bacchic states against the Greek word for reason; 1070;. "Not
even logic strikes down these things," he bewails.77

Part of the methods used to induce the manic state may have been the simple
imbibing of mass quantities of alcohol. In terms of the metamorphosis, this drunkeness
did not merely include the transformation from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde for which liquor
is well noted. Alcohol was used in many cults which sought to induce dream or trance
states.78 In some situations, other drug use may even be implied.79 There were
exceptions, of course. In his Life of Apollonius, Philostratus reports that dreams and

divinations were the most godlike of human faculties. Hence, interpreters of dreams

 

after some of their revelries, sleeping in an exhausted heap. Euripides, Bacchae, 680-711.

7° "brwov re lnenv tdrv Kae’r‘luépav xaxtbv Stfittxnv." ibid., 282; the word here,
2.11911, which means forgetfulness, is used by Aelius Aristides, several centuries later, in
a startlingly familiar context. Aristides will be given much more treatment below, in
chapter three, including his use of this particular word It should now be pointed out that
he used 111911 to describe a state which involved the "forgetfulness of all troubles." The
word is again used in a religious context, in reference to personal sacred experience, and
in describing a meditative state which borders on trance-like". . . navrdbv . . . M161] év
1:th Summmbv." Ael. Arist., XLVII. 39.

77 "01556; ma mraflam 16709" Euripides, Bacchae, 203.

78 Consider the papyrus record of a cure by Sarapis, in which the Libyan Thrason was
instructed to drink a pitcher of unmixed wine before falling asleep to dream up his cure.
Greek Literary Papyri, 1, ed. by D.L. Page, (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1941),
96.

79 cf. Kerenyi, Karl, Dionysus: Urbild des unzerstorbaren Lebens, (Munich: Langen
Miiller, 1976), 316.

 

always sought
it may have «.

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change in per

Bacchus was
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devotees w
misconsrmc,
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be at Ieasts
with dnlnke

80 Philo

81

75

always sought to know when a dream was seen. If it was seen in the early hours of sleep,
it may have been muddled by alcohol.80 But Other sources clearly indicate the use of
intoxicatir. : drinks in many cults. Chief among such cults was that of Bacchus. The great
change in personality and behaviour: accompanying drunkenness was believed to have
some effect on the divine voOg.

Hence, even intoxication was sometimes equated with Bacchic metamorphosis.
Bacchus was the god of fruit and vines, no doubt reflecting linkage with ancient Greek
agrarian/fertility rites. Permissiveness and an abandonment of cultural morals were part
of these agricultural festivals in many ancient societies. The metamorphosis was
understood in terms of the agrarian growth cycle. Agricultural festivals invariably
involved loosened strictures on sexuality and public conduct in general. At the barley
festival in the Old Testament book of Ruth. Moabite Ruth declares her intent to meet in
the cornstalks with anyone in whom she finds favor.“ Such practices apparently
appeared also in the religion of Bacchus. Rumors of misconduct among the Bacchic
devotees were rampant. Some actions may have been misconstrued, or largely
misconsu'ued—as were similar accusations launched against Christians during the first
centuries AD. Nonetheless, one has to assume that where there is much smoke, there may
be at least some fue. The general ancient populace seems to have equated Bacchic rites
with drunkenness. Wine invariably takes a central place in contemporary descriptions of

the cult and its rites. Pausanias reports that in Elis, the Eleans worshipped Bacchus with

 

’° Philostratus, VA., 11. XXXVII.

3‘ Ruth 2: 1-3; cf. Kraemer, "Ecstasy and Possession," 57.

 

the geatCSt Zt‘
Thyia There.
openly done i
shut In the n
every Other }'
Chher
nhgon hti
linhng him
Bacchus—b}
chorus sings
the Wine b0\
is described
Wllh wine.
Cithaeron it

\
82 This 1
he Changed

prOwer. E.S
Mum. 19:

83
Paus.

a
Dem

85 ll
3‘ on.
" ibid.

88.

lbid.

 

 

76

the greatest zeal, and even asserted that the god himself attended their sacred festival, the
Thyia. There, at a temple outside the city, the priests would place empty pots. This was
openly done in the presence of any cynics who wished to inspect. The temple doors were
shut. In the morning the pots would be full of wine.82 The Andrians also believed that
every other year at their feast, wine would flow spontaneously from the god’s temple.83

Other sources are even more specific regarding the use of wine in Bacchic
religion. In De Corona, Demosthenes tries to malign the reputation of Aeschines by
linking him to the cult of Sabazios—which was frequently compared to that of
Bacchus—by accusing him of mixing their drinks for them.84 In Euripides’ Bacchae, the
chorus sings that the “wine bowl (Kpam p) cast sleep about men."85 Pentheus states that
the wine bowl comprised the center of attention in Bacchic festivities.“ Bacchus himself
is described at one point as "wine-colored (otvoorrdg)," which may mean either saturated
with wine, or that he had the drunkard’s beet-red face.87 Indeed, the very ground at

Cithaeron itself was said to flow with wine, psi 5’0’IVQ).88 Finally, another Euripides

 

82 This miracle bears some startling comparisons with Christ’s first miracle, in which
he changed the water into wine during the wedding feast at Cana. John 2: 1-11; cf.,
Prower, E.S., Water into Wine: A Study of Ritual Idiom in the Middle East, (London: John
Murray, 1956), 61-66.

“3 Paus., Description of Greece, v1. 26. 1-2.

3’ Dem., De Cor., 258-59.

85 . . dtv8pdtor Kpamp brwov duotfidtltltu . . Euripides, Bacchae, 385.
8‘ ibid. 220.

87 ibid., 236.

8* ibid., 142-43.

 

 

play, Ion. alsc
Bacchic revel
reports that l
maenads. Ion
upon the an
been ec tatic
Aeco
those for Wh
function left
early on.90 r‘
from social
roles which
meaningful
Pohucal act
prOVlded m(
WhiCh man}
Above all, f
alld pOlldca

empOWefim

 

 

77

play, Ion, also shows how prevalent the assumptions were regarding drinking among the
Bacchic revelers. Here, Xuthus relates to Ion his experiences with the Bacchic cult. He
reports that he spent the evenings with Delphian girls who were Bacchic initiates, or
maenads. Ion shows the assumptions of drunkenness which most Greek society imposed
upon the cult by asking if the maidens were sober or not. Xuthus reports them to have
been ecstatic with the pleasures (rtpdc; fidovatg) of Bacchus.89

According to the myths, the Bacchic metamorphosis was especially sought by
those for whom the idea of basic change was the most compelling; anyone whose social
function left them unfilled. The cult was particularly pepular among women—at least,
early on.90 As to why this was, one can only surmise. Perhaps they sought a liberation
from social constraints. In the 19603, many women were dissatisfied with "traditional"
roles which Eur0pean and American culture had allotted them. They tried to enact
meaningful social change through theoretical feminist critiques of modern life and
political activism. But many were also powerfully attracted to the counterculture, which
provided more immediately satisfying alternatives to gradual emancipation. The liberation
which many women experienced in the counterculture Was a profound metamorphosis.
Above all, it was a personal transformation, one which transcended the world of social
and political change. Rejecting the dominant culture for a counterculture was immediately

empowering, for individuals.

 

89 Euripides, Ion, 550.

9° The Greek term for the female priests of Bacchus was tronvdtdeg, a word which,
like so many words in the Bacchic vocabulary, also derived from newton. Dodds, E.R.,
"Maenadism in the Bacchae," in Harvard Theological Review, 33, 154-76.

 

 

Such
Bm'nic srorir
cult by a rele
to wander ti
grooming an.
adorned their
to suckle no
on their lips.
of its day \
descriptions
Freedom we

The
alone. Men
Shook loose
role of Wor
eSpCClally l
frenzied (3;

\
91 .
Elm!

78

Such transformation by means of a counterculture was also prevalent in the
Bacchic stories from ancient Greece. No doubt many Greek women were attracted to the
cult by a release from societal constraints which it provided. Bacchic women were said
to wander the slopes of Cithaeron with unkempt hair, rejecting social standards of
grooming and beauty imposed upon them." In place of careful Theban grooming, they
adorned their hair with wild ivy. Too, their breasts were full of milk, and they were said
to suckle wolves. Thus they graced the mountain SIOpes, with cries of praise to Bacchus
on their lips.92 The cult offered one of the most raw and powerful religious experiences
of its day, which accounted for much of its popularity among women and men. The
descriptions of mountain roaming reveal the casting aside of civilized affeCtations.
Freedom was one of the sect’s chief traits.

The loosening of social constraints would by no means be attractive to women
alone. Men were affected as well.93 Consider Pentheus, who while in the Bacchic frenzy,
shook loose his hair, so that Bacchus accused him of resembling Agave. Still, the specific
role of women in the cult does demand attention. Diodorus Siculus reported that it was
especially popular among women. Women in many Greek cities used to gather for the

frenzied Opytoe.“ It has already been noted how the Bacchae begins with Bacchus’s

 

9‘ Euripides, Bacchae, 680-711.
92 Euripides, Bacchae, 680-711.
9’ ibid., 931.

9‘ Ta Opyta refers to sacred rites and mysteries. There are not necessarily any sexual
connotations. Still, sexual rites, or allegations of them, were a part of the legacy of these
and Other like rituals, as evidenced by the etymological derivatives which 16 6mm has
spawned in the English tongue. Diod., Sic., 4. 3; Lissargue, Francois, "The Sexual Life

 

boasting of h
on the slope:
soothsayer ii
masculine he
initially and
launches at
women.";. I
means mind
states in par
Upon the Ti
trance or ec

\
of Satyrs,"
World, ed.
Princeton L
95 Em
Dionysos,.
Course 51 on
Pris en Cha
Ganimand,

79

boasting of his effect upon the women of Thebes, and how they have taken to running
on the slopes of Cithareon.” Similarly, in Bacchae, Cadmus asks the blind Theban
soothsayer if they are the only ones (udvor) willing to visit the rites. Use of the
masculine udvor probably implies that few men participated in the Theban rites—at least,
initially and/or traditionally."5 And again, one of the accusations which Pentheus
launches at Bacchus is that he "brings new consciousness (VOCOV Katvflv) to our
women?” The LCL translator renders VOO’OV Kortvnv as "strange madness," but vooo
means mind, or understanding. Pentheus may nor be complaining here of the Bacchic
states in particular, but just that the cult had a liberating, consciousness-raising effect
upon the Theban women.98 A new consciousness is not necessarily the same thing as

trance or ecstasy.

 

of Satyrs," in Before Sexuality: The Construction of Erotic Experience in the Ancient
World, ed. by David M. Halperin, John J. Winkler and Froma I. Zeitlin, (New Jersey:
Princeton University Press, 1990), 58-59.

95 Euripides, Bacchae, 36; cf. "Un des gestes symptomatiques de la folie de
Dionysos...est de jeter les femmes mariées hors de la maison. loin de la cite, dans une
course a travers les foréts et les montagnes or‘i tout ce qui vit, animal on étre humain, est
pris en chasse par la meute sauvage." Detienne, Marcel, Dionysos Mis a Mort, (Paris:
Gallimand, 1977), 10.

9‘ Euripides, Bacchae, 195-96.
9" ibid., 354-55.

9" Consider also the myth of Proctus, mythical king of Argos. His daughters refused
to honor Dionysus and went mad, believing themselves to have turned into cows. Proctus
summons the somhsayer Malampous, to whom he promises if he can restore the girls’
sanity. Not only does Malampous fail, but madness strikes the other Argolide women,
driving them from their homes, a la Euripides. Detienne calls this mania an "epidemic."
Appollodorus, Bibliotheca, 2. 2. 2; Vergil, Eclogues, 6. 48; Detienne, Marcel, Dionysus
at Large, (Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press, 1989), 1; cf. Viam, F.,
"Melampous et les Proitides," in Revue des Etudes Anciennes, 1965, 25-30.

 

As de
women. He c
them a mean
an enchanter.
of course. or
which pits 1
religion. Thi
or more lite
anamn
had taken
ecstasy.102

\

9; "RAE/l

Euripides. l

‘°° ibid.
Who Will c
adietetive at
aCharm. It
song, (05¢
the Latin v
important,
imllomtntr
been seen,
Remember
Met., 7, 25
(0nd, Me
Cithaeron
mYStical p

101

Pm
shaped so

102 Eu

 

 

 

 

 

80

As depicted by Euripides, Bacchus exerted an almost hypnotic attraction to
women. He offered them a metamorphosis of the mind. More to the point, he offered
them a metamorphosis of their lifestyle. At one point, he is seen an alien from Lydia, and
an enchanter, a transfixer or a juggler (ydng=enchanter, juggler).99 Yong in this context,
of course, could just as easily be translated "seducer."‘°° He has a "sensitive" quality
which pits itself against the more rational—hence, cold and analytical—Appolonian
religion. This quality moves Pentheus to describe the deity as "the effeminate stranger,"
or more literally, the "girlish-shaped stranger."‘°l From this perspective, there is more
than a little sexual jealousy and insecurity present in Pentheus’ complaint that the deity
had taken their women up to the mountains, where they were "faking" Bacchic

ecstasy.102

 

9" "Keyouot S’dig ttg ElGEAfihDGE Eévoc; ydmg énqadog Audi/org onto xeovo’g.”
Euripides, Bacchae, 234-5.

10° ibid., 234; the word yong is also used in the New Testament to describe evil men
who will deceive the infant church: charlatans and deceivers. II Timothy 3:13; the
adjective accompanying yonc; also merits attention: entpbog. Literally, it means to act as
a charm. It derives from a combination of the adverbial prefix em, on, and the word for
song, (0511. 52511, as well as meaning song, can also mean magic, or incantation, as does
the Latin word for song, carmen. This connection between music and religion/magic is
important, not only for the obvious linguistic reasons, but because it reveals the probably
important role which music played in many ancient superstitions and faiths. Too, as has
been seen, music was believed to have the ability to entrance people, and enthrall them.
Remember the Sirens (Homer, 0d., 12. 184-91), the spells of Medea on Aeson (Ovid,
Met., 7. 252), and Mercury’s use of music to charm the one-hundred-eyed Argus to sleep
(Ovid, Met., 1. 680-270). Also remember the linguistic link between the mountain of
Cithaeron and the word for guitar, which also attests to the use of music for religious and
mystical purposes. cf. above, ftns. 18; 19; 62.

l
1‘" Put into nominative case, this phrase is "o ennonopooc, eevogs" the female-
shaped stranger. @nhtig = effeminate, female. ibid., 230-235.

‘02 Euripides, Bacchae, 218.

 

 

The a
fascinating :11
Again. the bt
must consul
lletarrorpiio
asunder by l
Euripides la
furor. Caref'

The
Euripides":
Juno. jealou
retiming tl
his divinity
unborn info
WhCl'C he c
his birth.“

\-

103
Hes

10‘ Thi:
meular’
PYObably g

Apul., M91

105 Ovi
Which unft
MEL, 3 3(

105 . ,
lbtt

 

81

The trance-like state which proved so liberating is intriguing—one of the truly
fascinating and enigmatic problems found in the study of ancient religions. What was it?
Again, the best Greek source for scholars is probably Euripides’ Bacchae. In Lau'n, one
must consult Ovid’s rendering of virtually the same myth, more or less, in his
Metamorphoses. The core event in both these myths is Pentheus’ being literally ripped
asunder by his own mother and sisters. In describing the trance state, or hinting at it,
Euripides largely uses forms of afitomttt and ttodvottat. Ovid largely uses the word
furor. Careful consideration of the relevant elements within these stories is warranted.

The core myth of Bacchus’s birth is narrated in Ovid and assumed in

‘03 Zeus/Jupiter wooed the mortal Semele, impregnating her with his child.

Euripides.
Juno, jealous as ever, visited Semele. Wearing a disguise, Juno aroused Semele’s curiosity
regarding the true nature of her nocturnal, immortal lover.104 Since Semele questioned
his divinity, Zeus is compelled to kill her—which he did, with a lightning bolt.1°5 The
unborn infant, Bacchus, was ripped from Semele’s womb and sewn up in Jove’s thigh,

where he continued his gestations. His foster mother became Semele’s sister Ino, upon

his birth.106

 

“’3 Hesiod, Theogony, 940.

1°" This is a variation of that familiar mythological motif, the "unknown lover." In
particular, the questioning of the god’s identity resembles the Cupid and Psyche myth,
probably given its most famous treatment in Book Two of Apuleius’ The Golden Ass. cf.
Apul., M__e_t., II.

“’5 Ovid reports that Zeus used one of his more gentle lightning bolt, tela secunda,
which unfortunately for Semele, proved just as lethal as would have the tela prima. Ovid,
Met., 3. 300-307.

’06 ibid., 310-315.

 

Osid'
mformation
metamorpho
the full powt
States impiie
a captured 5
and the son
boat and en
prize he hat
sleep and u]
him to be it
ship. But tl
awoke, and
MS to do.

entwined m

07 Non
Bacchus as
to the cons.

e newer ;
Wthh Was
108

Ovi.

1" ibid

82

Ovid’s rendering of the myth of Pentheus and Agave contains further enlightening
information on the nature of these Bacchic ecstatic states, and their role in the
metamorphosis. Here, in the murder of Pentheus by Agave, his own mother, is displayed
the full power of the Bacchic furor. Many elements comparable to the authoritarian trance
states implied in folklore witchcraft tales are also manifest. Pentheus was presented with
a captured slave, Acoetes from Maconia. Acoetes informed Pentheus that he was poor,
and the son of poor pe0ple.‘°7 His arduous toils had earned him his sole possession, a
boat and crew. On one voyage, one of his crew, a certain Opheltes, brought aboard a
prize he had found in the way of booty—a young boy who "was seen to stagger with
sleep and unmixed wine."‘°8 This was clearly Dionysus, though only Acoetes recognized
him to be divine, and tried to dissuade his crew from bringing the bound Bacchus aboard
ship. But the rif-raf who were his crew insisted. Once on board the vessel, Bacchus
awoke, and demanded to be taken to the isle of Naxos.109 This the men swore by the
gods to do. But they quickly proved deceitful and changed course. Bacchic ivy then

entwined the ship, holding it dead still in the water. The men began turning into fish, and

 

"’7 Note this important class-element which Ovid injects as a sub-element 0f the story:
Bacchus as the prorector and benefactor of the economically poor Acoetes, as opposed
to the conservative, self-sufficient aristocrat Pentheus. This theme is found in a range of
the newer religions which became popular in later antiquity, most notably Christianity,
which was immensely popular with the poor and downtrodden.

‘°' Ovid, Met., III. 590-608.
‘°" ibid., 111. 620-636.

 

jumped over

and SCI $3.111

Hear;

Euripides's
.r-‘igave was
throng of \v

This
of the Bat:
profound p
ascendancy
WV. Shea
by the mu
Acoete. evt
he IIIIEmpu
saying, I.“

\
llO . .
lblc

111 h

At

Q1

112 n

430.

113 it

Q.

 

83

jumped overboard. Left alone, then, on the ship with Bacchus, Acoetes changed course
and set sail for Naxos, where he became a fervent devotee of the new deity.110

Hearing this story, Pentheus mocked the new god and ordered Acoetes tortured.
But the god intervened and rescued the slave from such cruel torrnents. Thereupon,
Pentheus went to Cithaeron, where the god’s sacred festivities made the hills resound with
the throaty cries of orgiastic worship. This is the point at which the story preserved in
Euripides’s Bacchae and the one told by Ovid begin overlapping. Pentheus’ own mother
Agave was there at Ta OthOt. When she saw him, shouting "Come sisters," she led a
throng of women who literally tore Pentheus limb from limb with their bare hands.111

This incident provides some of the most telling information regarding the nature
of the Bacchic trance state. It was an immensely powerful force, capable of producing
profound personal transformation. Hera herself implied this when, confronted with the
ascendancy of the new god whose mother (Semele) was the object of so much of her
envy, she asserted, "He (Dionysus) has more than shown how much fervor might prevail
by the murder of Pentheus."112 The furor was already evident early on in the tale of
Acoete, even before the true nature of the deity was revealed to him and his crew. When
he attempted to convince his mutinous crew to take the god to Naxos, they mocked him,

"113

saying, "What furor holds you.

 

“0 ibid., 640-692.
“1 "Adeste sororesl" ibid., 111- 713°

”2 "Quidque furor valeat, Penthea caede satisque ac super ostendit." ibid., IV- 429-
430.

“3 "Quis te furor." ibid., 111. 641.

 

This:
cut a comfo:
it offered we
Thus. the rut
sis impose
Despite the
terrible aurl
example, B.
intentions ‘

lared th
Pentheus w
the matter.

resist.

 

84

This then is the implicit message of the Pentheus myth: Not only was the Bacchic
cult a comfort to disaffected groups like women and the poor, but the states of possession
it offered were so strong, they could induce a mother to brutally dismember her own son.
Thus, the metamorphosis of the vobg had serious and lethal implications. Furor or mania
was imposed upon mortals by the gods, seemingly without regard for their own wills.
Despite the humanitarian and gentle overtones of the Bacchic myth, something of the
terrible authoritarian trance states of occult magic can be found as well. Consider, for
example, Bacchus’s use of the imperative verb form éxomoov when he announced his
intentions to "Ecstasize" Pentheus from his senses (<l>Pt-:Wva).”4 Indeed, the god
declared that while in this state which is "outside of reasoning, (£50) 106 opovei’v.),"
Pentheus would don women’s clothing and attend the rites. Pentheus had little choice in
the matter. This was a kind of "siren call" which Pentheus was apparently powerless to
resist.

Agave’s perception of reality was clouded as well. In Ovid, she told her sisters she
saw a wild boar (aper), who was really Pentheus.“ In the Bacchae, the messenger’s
report which chronicles Pentheus’ fate described how Bacchus called out to his women
followers at Cithaeron to avenge the Theban King’s blasphemy. At first, the women

sprang up, but seem not to have heard the god’s message. But on the god’s second call,

 

“4 Euripides, Bacchae, 850.

“5 Even her running is described as frenetic, With OVid reporting that "She was the
first one running with an insane rushing." "Prima est insano concita cursa." ibid., III.
711; 714-715.

 

Agave and
breath.“ T
doubt indica
etsratie Stair
insulted. Es
oblivious to
Pentheus. e'
the transfor
Afte

women hav
occured. A
and his bar
held up PC}
10 find Pen
make a on
She came 1
She men

and her SC

\
116 u

117 . ,
Ibt.
us .

tbi

119

ibi

 

 

85

Agave and her sisters leapt up to do the god’s bidding, "frenzied by the god’s
breath."116 They were like religious zombies. Bacchus’s need to command twice no
doubt indicates the immense nature of the task he was commanding, which required the
ecstatic state to dominate completely every shred of the women’s rational, human
instincts. Even then, the murder was only accomplished with the women completely
oblivious to their actual behavior. Agave saw a wild beast, not recoginzing her own son
Pentheus, even when he called out to her to identify himself.117 This is how powerful
the transformation in Agave was.

After the murder, more telling characteristics of the ecstatic state in which the
women have been are revealed. A fundamental transformation of the perspective has
occured. Agave felt good about having slain the wild animal which threatened Bacchus
and his band of revelers on Cithaeron. Her perception of reality was so distorted that she
held up Pentheus’ head. She believed the head to be that of a lion, stating that she wanted
to find Pentheus, who she knew would be proud of her achievement, and would want to
make a trophy out of it.118 Cadmus had to confront Agave with the head twice before
she came out of her delirium. After the mania left her, she suffered extreme remorse.“9
She remembered neither why Pentheus would have gone to Cithaeron, nor even why she

and her sorores went. Cadmus’ response to her inquiry was very telling: "Ye raved."

 

116 "”0806 twoaiotv euuaveTC Euripides, Bacchae, 1087-1100; 1095.
“7 ibid., 1120-25.
“3 ibid., 1210-1215.

“9 ibid., 1270-80.

 

 

Here. the V:
"Bacchus c
this aetion.
god's home
a woman
seducrive e
there were
her matern
lt r
under the
audience, ':
he entered
Pentheus 1

that he 3a

 

 

 

 

 

86

Here, the verb ttaivouon, related to the noun uavrbt', is used. eudvete. All Thebes was
"Bacchus crazed," ééeBaKefianZ" With her reason restored, there was no sense that
this action, however difficult and tragic, had to have been undertaken; no sense that the
god’s honor and sanctity was to be held even higher than family and civic duty. She was
a woman who had been psychologically raped by Bacchus, and compelled by his
seductive ecstasies to do something her conscious mind would never have permitted. If
there were some dark, subliminal level at which her devotion to Bacchus surpassed even
her maternal instincts, it was not reflected in her sorrow at what she had done.

It must be remembered that Pentheus himself had only gone to Cithaeron while
under the controlling. influence of Bacchus’ trance-state. Bacchus, speaking to the
audience, had promised that he would addle the senses of the king of Thebes. He did. As
he entered, Pentheus was clearly experiencing distorted perception. Bacchus convinced
Pentheus to dress as a woman in order that he could see the rites.121 Pentheus reported

1.12

that he saw two suns, two Thebes, and that Bacchus was a bul Bacchus told him,

 

12° ibid., 1293-94; too, a verbal derivative of tron/{0t is used by Pentheus himself to
describe a servant who brings in bound Bacchus, and reports of the Theban prison doors
Opening miraculously. "MarveoGe." "Ye rave." Here, the word as used by Pentheus has
an odd connotation, both irnplying simple "lunacy" and the effects of the god upon the
messenger. ibid., 451.

121 There is a prurient interest in the rites which Pentheus displays. In his rather
secular analysis, Euripides is no doubt emphasizing this when he has Pentheus dress as
a woman, and traipse off into the woods to witness what he believed would be lewd
activities among the females.

‘22 ibid., 918-922.

 

 

"Now you see
norion, "on me

Anorhe
borh to Penthe
metamorphosis
Pentheus. wan
grabbed a pine
an erect positi
Agave. Euripi.
combat as evi
usually a task
Eun'pides ertp
easy.125

One 01
states found 11
COncerned Ti:
homfic figure
writhing, knor
80 that it Was
\

123 H

WV 6
12A ibid., ‘

125 . .
ibid., -

 

 

 

87

"Now you see what it is necessary that you see," an ancient precursor to that French
notion, "on me voit bien qu’avec 1e coeur. L’essentiel est invisble pour les yeux. "123

Another point worthy of mention is that the trance state gave unnatural strength,
both to Pentheus and to Agave. Here, this also hinted at more physical elements of the
metamorphosis, in which not only the vofig was enhanced, but the O’CDua as well.
Pentheus, wanting to see what he believed would be pornographic female activities,
grabbed a pine tree and bent it down to earth. Sitting on top of it, he let it float back to
an erect position, whence he hOped to see the Bacchic activities more clearlym With
Agave, Euripides was even more explicit. First, she was obviously Pentheus’ match in
combat, as evidenced by the outcome of the struggle. More, she tore out Pentheus’ limbs,
usually a task reserved for Hercules or the Golem, as it required great physical strength.
Euripides explicitly stated that the deity gave Agave strength, which made violence
easy.125

One other story, preserved in Ovid, showed how closely the authoritarian trance
states found in witchcraft coincided with those described in the stories of Bacchus. This
concerned Tisiphone and Hera. Tisiphone was one of the Furies. She was a classic
horrific figure, rivaling Medusa, whose repulsive traits she closely mimicked. She had a

writhing, knotted nest of venomous snakes for hair. They were continually biting her face,

so that it was swollen and purple, with Open, bleeding, festering sores that never healed.

 

123 "vfiv S’Opdtg (it 30311 o’bpétv." ibid., 924.
”4179121., 1059-79.

‘25 ibid., 1127-28,

 

 

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herself upon t
Stepmouier of
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mum” pal
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128 u

 

88

Hera, still seething with envy over Zeus’s affair with Semele, now desired to avenge
herself upon the house of Cadmus. More specifically, she sought to harm Ino, the
stepmother of Bacchus, and her husband Athamos.

Thus Juno sought out Tisiphone. In carrying out Juno’s work, Tisiphone "took a
torch dripping with evil blood, and donned a garment red with liquid gore."126 Then,
having concocted a magic potion (which included conventional items like blood, hemlock
and tears), and using her magic torch, she had her serpents bite Athamas and Ino. Here,
the similarities with the myth of Pentheus and Agave are striking. Like Agave, Athamas
was furibundus, and in a mental condition which completely altered his perception of
reality.127 Agave had perceived her own son Pentheus to be a wild boar, which she
subsequently ripped to pieces. Athamas claimed to see a lioness with two cubs,
whereupon he pursued his wife, and grabbed his baby son, Learchus, to dash his brains
out against a rock. Mother Ino could only look docilely on this scene, shouting "Ho
Bacchus!" Then, as "madness had made her strong," she jumped from a cliff into the
Ionian sea.123

This myth of Inc and Athamas has important similarities with that of Pentheus and
his mother Agave. On the one hand, Tisiphone was a mere mythological monster, bearing
elements of the nightwitch. On the other hand, Bacchus was an Olympian god, possessing

both a complex myth and abstract theology. He was one of later antiquity’s most pOpular

 

‘26 T isiphone malefactam sanguine sumz't inportunafacem, fluidoque crurore ruventem
z'nduz'tur pallam. Ovid, Met., IV. 481-82.

127 Ovid, Met., 512.

123 ". . . vz'res insanz’a fecerat." ibid., IV. 528.

 

deities. Yet i
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89

deities. Yet the kind of spell which Bacchus and Tisiphone induced were virtually
identical. Able to act against whomever he wished. Bacchus did nOt resort to the hocus-
pocus magic of potions or spells—though the traditional use of alcohol in his rites cannot
be overlooked. But for both the case of Tisiphone and Bacchus, the trance state was
imposed upon apparently unwitting and unwilling mortals, with disastrous results. Indeed,
in telling the Tisiphone tale, Ovid’s use of furibundus again refers to a frenetic, or ecstatic
state inherent in the condition imposed upon Ino and Athamas. Both Agave and Athamas
killed their beloved sons while mistaking them for wild and threatening beasts. That this
witchcraft state of Tisiphone so closely resembles the Dionysian ecstatic state should be
carefully considered by historians of ancient religions. An often too fine line exists
between the petty superstitions of p0pular culture, and the great major religions of world
history, among which Bacchus must certainly be numbered The same holds true for other
great faiths, both modern and ancient. Among these must be included Christianity. There
were striking similarities between the ecstatic and trance-like states of classical religion
and folklore, and like psychological experiences described in the New Testament. Here
too, ecstasy played a key role, fundamentally transforming Christianity’s greatest men and
women during the Apostolic Age. Here, the link between metamorphosis and ecstasy was

even more pronounced.

 

 

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9O
ECSTATIC METAMORPHOSIS IN EARLY CHRISTIANITY

Becoming a Christian was synonymous with metamorphosis. Indeed, Christianity
was a religion which emphasized conversion—a dramatic turning-away from one’s old-
self, and one’s old way of thinking. NOthing could symbolize fundamental transformation
more than the several great "conversions" of the New Testament: Paul, the chosen twelve,
the Ethiopian eunuch, to name just a few. But the Christian conversion generally involved
more than just a conscious repentance. It was a fundamental conversion of the divine
v00; This was one of the great acts of metamorphosis found in Greco-Roman religion.
It was often achieved through the advent of ecstatic states.

The culture from which Christianity emerged must be considered. The Jewish faith
had undergone dramatic transformation during the pre-Christian era’s last centuries. An
added dimension of mySticism evolved in the faith of the Old Testament. As well as
employing classic eCStatic states of the sort found in Graeco-Roman culture, there was
also a heavy emphasis on visionary experience. This is an important distinction. In Greek
and Roman mythology, the gods could and did appear among mortals. Their aetivities
among men ranged from the revelation of truth to c0pulation. But despite the prevalence
of ecstatic states in later Graeco-Roman religion, especially after the advent of Bacchus,
the revelatory vision seems a peculiarly oriental phenomenon. St. John’s vision on the isle
of Patmos is one example. Occidental mortals encountered their gods in more decidedly
physical ways. Aeneas, Orpheus and Odysseus all literally went to hell, for example, to

meet with Pluto, and the dead. In the West, gods and goddesses were forever turning up

 

on battlefield
light which '
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overemphasi
East and We
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129 Noe.
On the TH};

 

91
on battlefields, or in bedrooms, in decidedly physical ways. Even the bright visionary

light which was said to conclude the Eleusinian rites did not have the complex and
convoluted visionary qualities which one sees in the more mystic eastern faiths.128

Nonetheless, the impact of hellenic culture on eastern religion cannot be
overemphasized. The exchange tranSpired on a two-way street. The interactions between
East and West had produced myriad shapes and forms of new local faiths, many of them
modifying and distilling elements from the old regional pagan systems. New and
unprecedented cults were flung throughout the ancient world. More, the body of shared
knowledge became increasingly diffuse and varied. Ancient ideas were eagerly traded
back and forth by merging cultures. Thus, local cultural homogeneity made possible by
geographic isolation became less and less fiequent. After the conquests of Alexander,
Greek phiIOSOphers began to compile the great old wisdom of the Orient. Works like the
writings of Baroussa and Manetho synthesized the millennia’s wealth of knowledge
accumulated by Near Eastern peoples, making ancient world views more accessible to the
new age. Works like the Corpus Hermeticum, which was a compendium of diverse
treatises on alchemy, magic, astrology, and other renderings from Babylonian and
Egyptian religion, also helped to spread this cultural diffusion.129

As was so often the case, Jews were caught in the middle. The influences from

both East and West were immense. Some historians have even spoken of "Jewish

 

‘28 Plut., De prof, virt., 10.

”9 Nock, A.D., "Early Gentile Christianity in its Hellenistic Background," in Essays
on the Trinity and the Incarnation, ed. by A.E.J. Rawlinson (1928), 60-61.

 

 

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92

mysteries," in reference to this new eclectic theism.”° Macabees, of course, displayed
the plight of the tiny but resilient pe0ple in their struggle against Hellenistic culture. Still,
the Septuagin was produced largely because so many Jews outside of Syria-Palestine were
now more comfortable with Greek than Hebrew. As for the Orient, Judaism was now seen
by many as just one more of the many local religions of the Ancient Near East. The
Corpus Hermeticum, for example, shows how much Hebraic culture was now part of this
melting pot, since it lists Genesis as a sacred text.131 Moreover, apocalyptic literature
signified a tremendous oriental influence on Judaism proper. Such literature generally
involved special visions and revealed glimpses of history’s eschatology. This form of
writing undoubtedly reflected the influence of Persian and Babylonian religion, and such
influences were clearly evident in texts like Daniel, Revelation, and scores of apocryphal
documents. Hence, the SOphisticated and mature Hebrew religion now was stratified into
varying strands. Some groups, like the Pharisees and Sadducees, retained a highly
traditional and orthodox character. A third group however, while also maintaining Jewish
rites and customs, seems to have absorbed the more ephemeral and mystic quality of the

age.132 These were the Essenes.

 

m Nock, A.D., "The Question of Jewish Mysteries," review of Goodenough, By Light,
Light, in Gnomon, 13, (1937), 156-65; cf. Goodenough, E.R., By Light, Light: The Mystic
Gospel of Hellenistic Judaism, (New Haven: Yale University Pres, 1935).

‘31 Nock, A.D., "The Milieus of Gnosticism," review of Jonas Gnosis and
Spdpantiker: Geist, I, in Gnomon, 12, 1936, 607.

132 One example of the Essene eclecticism seems particularly telling. The group
followed a meticulous morning ritual which seems to have been centered around the
sunrise. This practice very much resembled other contemporary solar cults like those of
Sarapis, 801, and Apollo. cf; Josephus, Bella Judaica, 2. 8. 7; cf. Hani, Jean, ”Sarapis
Dieu Solaire," in Revue ties Etudes Grecques, I, 83, 1970, 52-55.

 

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135 Dal
(1964), 26

93

The Essenes were important in part because they represented a strand of Judaism
which bore many similarities to early Christianity. They seem to have adopted some of
the mysticism and esorericism which lent themselves to the practice of inducing frenetic
or ecstatic states. This personalized kind of mysticism generally was the sort which
focused on procuring personal change, or metamorphosis. This change was largely a new
development in Judaism. Earlier periods had seen dreams play an important role in Jewish
folklore. These dreams had been generally tied to practical and sometimes even political
ends, just as in Greek culture the frenetic state had largely been reserved for prophecy,
until the advent of Bacchus.‘33 After the Diaspora, however, ecstatic States and,
especially visions, played an increasingly important role. Evidence of this shift had
occurred as early as the prophets—Ezekiel’s vision of the wheel and the call of Jeremiah
provide vivid examplesm But it was later Judaism which really developed fuller
qualities of mysticism. Apocalyptic literature from this period frequently involved Special
vision into an invisible spiritual realm, like Daniel’s glimpse into the court of heaven.”

Into this milieu came the Carpenter’s humble, unpretentious faith. Its primary
document was a corpus of assorted narratives and episdes which came to be called the
New Testament. Its impact upon occidental culture down to the present age has been

enormous. But it had received its own influences from elements of both eastern and

 

'33 "Jacob’s ladder," Gen. 28; cf. Joseph’s famous dream of his brothers’ subservience
to him, Gen. 37.

‘3‘ Ezek. 37; Jer. 1: 1-10; 24: 1-10.

‘3’ Daniel 1:7-12; cf. Nock, A.D., "Gnosticism," in Harvard Theological Review, 57,
(1964), 265.

 

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earlier faiths
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94

wesrern thinking. Chief among these is the role which ecstatic states, many of them
startlingly hellenistic in nature, play in the sect’s central stories and tenets. As had Other
earlier faiths, Christianity offered its adherents fundamental inner metamorphoses,
transformations of the perspective and the opportunity to change their lives’ most basic
realities.

The Christian metamorphosis was not especially new, nor was its use of ecstatic
states to facilitate metamorphosis. In particular, the trance states in the New Testament
bear startling resemblance to those of the Bacchic cult. These ecstatic states were
inherently focused on procuring fundamental personal transformation—as had been the
case in Bacchic religion. Christian ecstasy offered a profound metamorphosis. Again, the
Greek terms employed by the New Testament writers largely described such conditions
with the words used by earlier Greek writers like Euripides. éfio‘taoig is by far the most
common. Forms of uorvror also appear. The dream (Ovap) and vision (Opaua) were also
prevalent. While dream states are to be discussed in the subsequent chapter, careful
consideration of these remaining terms and states is warranted.

The transforming powers of Christianity were as fraught with controversy as had
been those of Bacchus. Ecstatic or mantic states were sometimes viewed by New
Testament observers as forms of mental illness, or demonic possession. When Christ’s
accusers come to arrest him, saying he is Beelzebub, their charge is that he is ecstatic.

In Mark 3:21, he is charged with being "ecstatic," while in Mark 3:22, he is charged with

 

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95

having Beelzebilb——in Other words, being demonically possessed“ Consider also the
boy with the unclean spirit, who was wont to throw himself in the fire.”7 In the later
Apostolic Age, the practice of glossolalia, "speaking in tongues," also elicited such
charges. Glossolalia was a classic ecstatic state. Paul himself had this "gift" (xdtptoua),
but he carefully warned against its excesses. In I Corinthians, for example, Paul laments
that someone has blaSphemed Christ while in an ecstatic statem Also in I Corinthians,
Paul notes that if all the church were gathered together and all spoke in tongues, and
"uninitiated (151016;) or faithless ones (dictator) were to enter, they would say, "ye
rave." The Greek word here for "ye rave," "uatveofle," is, interestingly enough, the same
Greek word Pentheus uses to describe a messenger smitten by Bacchus. It may be
possible, though doubtful, that Paul is not using this word to connote insanity. At any
rate, the "mantic" aspects of contemporary religion would have been well-known to any
one familiar with Hellenistic or Greek religion:
If therefore all the church should be gathered together and all should speak

in tongues, and should enter either uninitiated ones, or faithless, would
they not say that "ye raved."139

 

‘36 cf. "xort dtxouoorvreg 6t nap’orutou ééflleov xpatfloon autov, anyov yap 6n
cfieo’m. Kort ot ypotuuortstg ot ditto ’Iepooohficov xarafidvreg thaw Oct
Beelemell. Ext-:1." Mark 3:21-22a.

‘37 Mark 16: 14.29.

‘3’ 1 Cor., 12: 3; Cf. Segal, Alan F., Paul the Convert, (New Haven: Yale University
Press, 1990), 35.

‘39 "’cdrv 00v awaken 1‘] éxxltnotor 63.11 érti to auto Kort navreg kalaow
yhrboooug, etoe’ltemotv 83 tStdbwi fl dictator, oux epouotv on universes. " I Cor 14:
23.

 

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96
A form of uatvotlou is used again, with similar meaning, by Luke, the writer of
Acts. Here he describes captured Paul’s defense of himself to Agrippa, who says to Paul,
"You’re mad (Mafvn)."‘4°
The transformation of drunkenness was sometimes erroneously equated with
Christian ecstasy, as it had been with Bacchic ecstasy. In Acts for example, at the famous
"Day of Pentecost," all the disciples were praying, when they saw tongues of fire

(710600“ (0081 “9909) hovering over their heads.141

Afterwards, in Jerusalem, a great
throng of humanity gathered "from all the nations under heaven (and navrog Eevoug
Ithv inch 166 oupocvoii), whereupon Peter reported to an incredulous audience, "These
men are not drunk as ye suppose."142 Finally, the writer of the epistle to the Ephesians
wrote to the early church there: "Be ye not drunk with wine ("uh usxfiotceoee ofvcp) in
which there is dissipation, but be ye filled in spirit (nhnpofioee av rtvefiuart)."“3

AnOther area of comparison with transforming Bacchic ecstasy is minor, but
fascinating. That is the use of the metaphor which both Bacchus and several New
Testament Christians use regarding the ability of the transformed spirit to transcend prison

walls. In cults which both were heavily persecuted by the governments of their day, this

metaphor is especially instructive. In Bacchae, when Pentheus threatens to jail Bacchus,

 

14° Acts 26:24; cf. Acts 12: 15.
1‘“ ibid., 2: 1-4.
‘42 ibid., 2: 1-15.

14’ Ephesians 5: 18.

 

 

 

 

 

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222 15.22

 

 

 

 

97

the god replies that "the Spirit (50tftlcov) will free me whenever I want."“’" This passage,
and the whole general spirit of Bacchus’ remark, bears uncanny resemblances to Christian
stories. The spirit (avefiua, or Satucuv), cannot be contained by the prison cells of human
political systems. In a world which did, and does, lack humane forms of government, the
statement from Bacchus was virtually anarchistic.145 This was the power which the
Bacchic mysteries claimed—that there was a spiritual essence in humankind which
transcended nature (tbt‘xrtg) and reason (hoydg). Certainly then, no prison could contain
it. This was another sense of éKo‘Iétotg. If the spirit could be free from the physical body,
what good were chains or locked doors. It was an ideal religion for those social groups
with little or no hope. The power of the metamorphosis was such that it could liberate the
spirit from the body. It was an impressive idea.

Prison figured heavily in the thinking of early Christian writers. It had to. Prison
was where so many early Christian writers found themselves. Hence, jail and persecution
were integral part of the narrative vocabulary which sprang up around the early church,
with its saints, its apostles and especially its martyrs. Above all, the allegiances of the

Christian were spiritual, not political.146 In Philemon, Paul referred to himself as a

 

1"" "Most 11’ b’Satumv autog, brow bytb 96km." Euripides, Bacchae, 452-470.

"’5 Mercier also argues that Dionysian religion was a form of anarchism: "C’etait une
religion ’populaire’ et ’orgiastique.’ Anarchiste meme." Mercier, Le Retour d’ApolIon,

39

”6 One of Christ’s most noted sayings, quoted in all three of the Synoptic Gospels,
was "Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s, and unto God that which is God’s. This
statement reflects a veritable indifference to government, especially that of Rome. Matt.
22: 15-22; Mark 12: 13-17; Luke 20: 20-26.

 

 

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98
/
”prisoner of Christ Jesus (Beoutog Xptorof) 1116001147 In II Corinthians, Paul boasted

of all the hardships he had suffered, including prisons.148 The entire book of Phillipians
was written while Paul was in Roman custody. Here, he asserts that the circumstances of
his imprisonment have been a witness and blessing for the infant cause of Christ.149 In
verse 19, he notes that his circumstances, thanks to the prayers of believers, will deliver
him.”0 The ultimate spiritual victory over imprisonment was in the Apocalypse of John,
who found himself imprisoned on the isle of Patrnos "on account of the word of God and
the witness (Blot rov loyov tot) 8801‘) Kori mv uaptuptorv 'Inoofi) of Jesus."151 As
this ecstatic vision no doubt testified to contemporaries, the Roman government could
imprison the body, but it could not harness the spirit.

The adventurous narratives of Acts are filled with even more such prison
references. The power of God rivals prison in not only a spiritual sense, but in a physical
one as well. Indeed, Paul’s experiences in the Philippian jail, the conversion of the
Philippian jailer, are all found in Acts. Paul and his companion, Silas, have been thrown
into prison after casting a demon out of a Philippian prOphetess. In fact, they were thrown

l
into the innermost part of the prison (sic; howrepav (bulloucitv).‘52 Then Paul and Silas

 

147 One should also remember that Philemon was written to encourage the slave
Onesimus to return to his master. Philemon 1: 1, 9.

148 II Corinthians 11: 24-27.
”9 Philippians, 1: 13-14.

15° ibid., 1: 19.

15‘ Revelation 1: 9.

‘52 Acts 16: 24.

 

 

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99

hymned God, whereupon a great earthquake came and shook loose their bonds, and broke
Open the prison. In this story, Paul and Silas did not take this opportunity to flee, but
remained and converted the Philippian jailer. Subsequently, Paul made use of his Roman
citizenship, whereby he and Silas were freed. The image of the two men singing in the
darkest cell of a Philippian jail is one of the New Testament’s most powerful.”3 In
another tale, Herod had Peter arrested and thrown into prison. The night before Peter’s
trial, two angels appeared to him. At first he thought he was seeing a dream (8561(81
(Spectra Blue/new). However, the angels free him, and he fled to the home of some local
believersfy' These stories reflect the powerful belief in spiritual and physical liberation
which was part of Christianity’s power. In this sense, Christ and Bacchus were kindred
spirits.

The Christian ecstatic metamorphosis was profoundly spiritual, as had been that
of earlier Greek faiths. This is evidenced by the many New Testament references to the
spirit. Indeed, the Christian "Holy Spirit" was a manifestation of the divine being believed
to wield enormous powers of transformation. Again, antecedents to beliefs in a
transforming spirit are found in classical Greek literature. For example, in telling Pentheus
that the spirit would free him from jail, Bacchus had used the Greek term Batuwv.
Aalucuv is far less p0pular a term in New Testament Greek. Indeed, it came to mean

demon, a word to which it is obviously related. Early Christians preferred the word

 

153 ibid., 16: 16—40.

15” Upon arriving, Peter is ecstatic, having just escaped a dreary fate in prison. He is
greeted by a certain Rhode, who incredulously questions his enthusiasm with the simple
but telling words "Morivn." "Thou art mad." cf. ibid. 12: 9,15.

 

rvct‘iua to n
as in the En;
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references :
personalizec
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trance or re
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says that 1
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151 ..

158
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100

rtveiluor to refer to the spirit of their God. The word was related to the word for breath,
as in the English word pneumonia. Passages which imply uavla or éxorérorq are often
coupled with allusions to "being in the spirit," or being led "by the spirit." Such
references are highly significant. They show that early Christianity had largely
personalized the frenetic state, giving it an abstract personality in the guise of the Holy
Spirit (rwefiua dwiov). The phrase "in the spirit" frequently refers to the entrance into a
trance or revelatory state, as it clearly does in Revelation, when John’s great vision of
heaven begins with his statement that he was "in the spirit (in heaven)."'55 Paul says
that he can be delivered from prison "through the spirit of Jesus Christ (our . . . 100
rrvefiita‘tog 'Inoof) Xpto‘toil), probably referring more to a spiritual than a physical
release.”6 All three of the synoptic gospel writers use forms of "in the spirit" to
describe Christ’s venture into the wilderness, where he fasted and was tempted. Matthew
says that Jesus was led "by the spirit into the desert!”7 Mark says, literally, that the
spirit "cast him forth (éxBaMer) into the desert?”8 Luke’s rendition of the tale uses
the metaphor twice in one verse: Christ was "full of the holy spirit (1:111an rt'vefiuoctog

'aytou)," and was "led in the spirit into the desert (fiye'co lav rd) rtvefiuom av 11]

 

1” "eueecog eyevounv 6v rwefiuom." Revelation 4: 2.

15‘ Philippians 1: 19; cf. above, ftn. 141.

‘57 'Tore o 'Inoofi otvftxen ate épnuov 151:5 rot) rtveuuotrog." Matthew, 4:1.
‘5’ Mark 1: 12.

 

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101

€pfiurp)."‘59 Paul hints at similar states, when he says that no one is able to say "Lord
Jesus (Kuptofiq ’Inoofig) except that he is "in the Spirit."‘°°

Sweeping changes and great personal decisions are often accompanied by
éxororcrtg. This fact further highlights the link between ecstasy and metamorphosis. The
change could be intensely personal, or it could include admonitions which would
ultimately effect the entire faith. The use of "word" in reference to Christ’s supposed
possession by Beelzebub has already been noted.‘61 Many other worthwhile examples
come from Luke’s Book of Acts—arguably the most Hellenistic of the New Testament
documents.”2 Peter’s vision (bporuor) at Joppa, wherein the eating of unclean foods was
sanctioned for Jews, is one such case. First, there are implications of borh meditation and
sensory deprivation accompanying the vision, which often figure into the hallucinatory
religious experiences of any culture. Simon Peter had gone up onto a rooftop to pray. In
his report, he claimed that he was hungry (rtpoortewog) and wanted to eat. Too, he was
praying, an activity which involves inward focus and meditation. Secondly, he was on a

rooftop, which no doubt provided a panoramic view of the world—a high place, where

the sky made God seem more real.”3 Larer Peter recalled that he saw the famous Joppa

 

”9 Luke 4: 1.
160 "...81 In“ év msouom 'a'nyJ." 1 Cor. 12: 3.
161 Mark 3: 21-22.

“2 One of the definitive hellenistic religious visions and conversions, for example, is
found in Acts: Paul’s vision on the Damascus Road. Acts 9: 10.

“3 Acts 10: 10; cf. Paul was said to be fasting before witnessing the vision which
resulted in the commissioning of Saul and Barnabas. ibid., 13: 2.

 

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by Paul wl
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religious l

 

 

102

vision while "in ecstasy (elfiov av éxototoer Opaua)."‘“

This same phrase was used
by Paul when he described a vision which instructed him to leave Jerusalem and preach
to the gentiles.’°5

One of the oddest and most significant uses of ecstasy comes in Mark’s
description of the Resurrection story. Mary Magdalene and Mary the Mother of Christ,
brought oil to the tomb, with which they planned to anoint the body of Jesus. Here, they
saw one of antiquity’s most notable images: the stone rolled away from the tomb, and
brilliant angelic creatures standing guard at the empty grave. The angels told the two
women to go to Galilee, which they did. Here, the author of Malls uses an interesting
choice of words. As Mary and Mary departed, he reported that "fear and trembling held
them.”‘“ The word for trembling is fairly standard, rpo/uog. More interesting is the
choice of words which the author uses to imply an apparently paralyzing, almost surreal
fear—Exoractg. The word has a lesser used connotation which implies fear—but the kind
of fear which can drive one from his or her senses. The women were, literally, "beside
themselves" with fright. This is highly important. The first eyewitnesses to the Christian
resurrection were peOple in the throes of an out of body experience. The resurrection story

was not only for the ages. It also involved an intensely personal and transforming

religious experience for the two women who visited the tomb.

 

1“ ibid., 11: 5.
“‘5 ibid., 22518.
166 Mark 16: 8.

 

 

 

 

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103

Still, the use of an ecstatic state to enhance religious experience was not without
controversy. At Collosae, arguments erupted over the use of trance and ecstatic states.
Here a tiny Phrygian sect of Jewish Christians, probably Essenes, had mixed several
themes from Judaism, Christianity, and other more cosmOpolitan faiths. Paul dedicated
a few verses to chastising them in his epistle Colossians, thereby immortalizing them as
the perpetrators of the "Collosian Heresy.“7 From Judaism, the heresy had absorbed
restrictions on food, observations of festivals, new moons and the sabbath.“58 From

elsewhere, the cult had absorbed visionary experiences, and the worship of angels.169

 

"37 Lightfoot, J.B., "The Collosian Heresy," in Conflict at Collosae: A Problem in the
Interpretation of Early Christianity Illustrated by Selected Modern Studies, ed by Fred
Francis and Wayne A. Meeks, (Missoula, Montana: Scholars Press, 1975), 13.

’68 Colossians, 2: 16.

‘69 ibid., 2: 17-18; There is also evidence indicating angel worship in the early part

of Hebrews. The worship of angels probably derived from Babylonia and Persia Diodorus
Siculus described the sophisticated notions of Babylonian astrology, and a complex world
of spiritual intermediaries who could control destiny and nature. Much apocalyptic
literature reveals absorption of these notions by more malleable seetors of Judaic culture.
Josepheus wrote that the Essenes had secret books concealing angelic names. In the
apocryphal book of I Enoch, the angels have taken on personalities, some of them now
famous. Michael hears mortal complaints, Raphael heals maladies, and Gabriel is a
virtually omnipotent being. This may be part of a trend in later Judaism in which abstracr
concepts came to be identified as angelic beings. The most notable example is probably
Wisdom, who was given female identity through large parts of Proverbs. Paul himself
states at one point that Christ is the wisdom (Gorilla) of God. Both Luke and John depict
the devil as an angelic being cast out of heaven. Angel worship seems to have survived
the first century. Both Origen and Justin referto angel cults. cf. Hebrews 1: 5-2, 18;
DiocL Sic., ii. 30; Josephus, Bella Judaica, 2. 8. 7; cf. IEnoch 40: 9; cf. Proverbs 3: 19;
I Cor. 1: 24; Luke 10: 18; John 12: 31; Origen, c. Cels., 5. 8; Justin, Apol., 1. 6. 2;
Pétrement, Simone, Le Dieu S e’pare’: les origines du gnosticisme, (Paris: Les Editions du
Cerf, 1984), 81-83; "St. Paul et le gnosticisme: l’Epitre aux Colossiens," in Le Origini
dello Gnosticismo, ed. by Ugo Bianchi, (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1967), 544; Grant, R.M., "Les
Etres intermédiares dans le Judaisme Tardif," in Le Origini dello Gnosticismo, 142.

 

 

 

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171 P0

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172 Ph
State Was
the benev
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173

 

104

The Collosian Heresy must be seen in its broader, Hellenistic context. It
constitutes one of the New Testament’s most candid snapshots of that rare syncretistic
blend of Hellenism, Judaism and Christianity—an eclectic, heterodoxy whose time was
so short. Mantic or frenetic states are among the best examples of this fusion. The
visionary experience had become important for many Jews of that period.”° An
important one of these was Philo, who displayed many of the esoteric and mystic qualities
which could easily be linked to Jewish or Christian ecstatic states. Seeing God while in
an ecstatic or trance state had become a theme in many Hellenistic religions.171 For
Philo, then, the divine mind was to be distinguished from the human mind. Ecstasy came
when the human light set, as it were, and the divine light shone.172 Hence, like Paul,
Philo saw the body as corrupt—as an entity which was to be transcended, if contact with
the divine was to be attained. Indeed, in De poteritate Caini, he disparaged the body, even
equating it with death.173

For Philo, religious conversion could heal the rupture between man and God. The

final step of spiritual metamorphosis, then, was to discover God through an ecstatic

 

17° Segal, Paul the Convert, 35.

”1 Porphry wrote of Plotinus that Plotinus four times saw God while in a trance state.
Porphry, Vita Plotini, 23; Murray, The Five Stages of Greek Religion, 143.

172 Philo, Heres., 263; Bréhier notes that in Philo (i.e. Hellenistic Judaism) the ecstatic
state was used to attain personal understanding of the divine being. Reason could show
the benevolence and power of God, but only intuition and ecstasy could reveal "l’Etre lui-
meme. " Brehier, Les Ide’es de Philon d’Alexandrie, 23.

‘73 Philo, De Pot. Caini., 25; Leg. AIL, 3. 69; Williamson, Ronald, Jews in the
Hellenistic World, (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1989), 196-97.

 

 

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Philo discus
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Paul says
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0n States

 

105

experience, something which Philo scholar Jean Daniélou called the ”sortie de soi."”"
Philo discusses the ecstatic experience in Quis Rerum Divinarum Heres."5 His writing
is sprinkled with references to "out of body" experiences. For example, in De cherubim,
he undergoes rites, after which he is transported into a spiritual realm where he sees the
prOphet Jeremiah.176 He describes the supernatural commands which brought Moses and
the Jews out of Egypt as "visions and dreams."177 The eclectic nature of such mysticism
points to the rare heterodoxy which was found b0th in Hellenistic Judaism, and early
Christianity. That is why, as evidenced by the Collosian experience, the potential for
"heresy" in such matters was so high. That is why the first century AD. was such a
precious moment in human religious history.

Using ecstasy to procure this ultimate spiritual enlightenment figured heavily in
primitive Christianity, as well. Paul’s most important allusion to ecstatic or mantic states
in the New Testament is found in his reference to "the third heaven (tpttog orbpolvog)."
Here, Paul describes someone, probably himself, who is "caught up" into the third heaven.
Paul says that in this clearly ecstatic state, he heard the "unspeakable words (appntoc
'pflua‘ta)." While Paul does not use the specific term étcororcrtg, he does place emphasis

on states which can be either in or out of the body:

 

17" Daniélou, Jean, Philon d’Alexandrie, (Paris: Librarie Artheme Fayard, 1958), 193.
"5 Philo, Quis Rerum Divinarum Heres, 69.
”6 Philo, De cherubim, 49-

"” Philo, De Somn., 1; Vit Moses, 1: cf. Nock, A.D., "Philo and Hellenistic
Phil030phy,’ in The Classical Review, 57, 1943, 77-81.

 

 

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example <
(cba‘neil
Xptotoil)
apocalypst
revelatory
Words: the
verb "to h
Greek, nc
idea~oftt
then, me:

disclosure

 

106

I know a man in Christ who fourteen years earlier—whether in the body

I know not, or outside of the body I know not, God knows—was snatched

up into the third heaven. I know this man—whether with body or without

body I know not, God knows—that was snatched up into paradise and he

heard the unspeakable words which it is not possible for a man to

speak.178

Finally, sometimes Paul described the ecstatic state as "Revelation." One such
example comes from Galatians, where Paul atuibutes his awareness of the gospel
(ebowyahtov) to the "Revelation of Jesus Christ (51’ ouroxalfiwcug 'Inoof)
Xptorofi)."m Similarly, he refers to his Damascus Road experience as an
apocalypse.180 Indeed, 'Artoxétltuunc; is probably the most definitive term for the
revelatory trance state, as found in the New Testament. It combines two important Greek
words: the adverbial prefix dtrto, which means, literally, "out of" and a derivative of the
verb "to hide," "KGAURTCO." The noun derived from Kalcfirrto) is Kahuwtg. Normally, in
Greek, nouns ending in mg designate an absrract projection of the root word’s central
idea—often corresponding to English verbal nouns ending in ing. The word Kalkmptg

then, means, a hiding away, a concealing. Artoxétlwu/rg means a revealing, or a

disclosure; a taking out of hiding. The idea embodied in the word lies at the very heart

 

17’ "015a avepomov év Xprorrp npo erav Senateooaptbv -- cite 6v 0’ rattan or’nc
0150:, site éerg tot) owuaeog 0151c 015a, 0 980g olfisv -- btprtayevror 10v IOIOO‘COV
éoog Tpf’tO'O or’rporvor‘). Kat 0150: 10v torofitov divepomov -- sire év ocuuom site
xtopig 1'00 omuarog 00x 0150:, ‘o 980:; olb‘ev -- 6n npnayn etc; 10v napafieroov Kori
flicouoev appnror 'pmlorca 6t or’nc éébv avepcortoa kahnoocr." 2 Corinthians, 12: 3-4;
Deismann, Adolf, Paul: A Study in Social and Religious History, (New York: Harper
Brothers, 1957), 79.

’79 Galatians, 1: 12.

18" ibid. I: 15-16.

 

 

 

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alld T111121

 

 

107

of Hellenistic esotericism. It was the name given to what was arguably antiquity’s most

famous ecstatic experience: the Apocalypse of John on the Isle of Patmos.

CONCLUSION

To understand the gods or God more fully was one of the greatest gifts which
metamorphosis could offer adherents. But it was a kind of understanding which far
surpassed the ability of finite human reason or logic to grasp. In this sense, it was a
decidedly anti-intellectual form of enlightenment. It came to individuals through divinely
inspired forms of ecstasy. It was something which happened to a person, generally at the
behest of some external source. Still, transforming ecstatic experiences were phenomena
which pe0ple ultimately came to seek for themselves. People who experienced the
transforming powers of this ecstasy were often left forever changed.

The ecstatic or mantic state was one of the most deeply rooted phenomena in
Hellenic and Hellenistic religion. The same concepts which undergirded some of the
"nightwitch" folk-tales found in Greek, Roman and Hellenistic mythology appeared also
in antiquity’s more abstract religions. The cult of Bacchus was chief among these.
Subsequently, the ecstatic state went on to play a dominant role in the early Christian
church. But as were Other Christian borrowings from pagan culture, divine mania was
fraught with controversy. It was a central feature in some of the New T estament’s leading
famous stories—many of which went on to inform major elements of Christian doctrine

and ritual. At the same time, it played heavily in the misunderstandings and schisms

 

 

 

 

which plag
demonsrraa
that a Stall
Sometimes
superman-an
human cor
1n the 9 ca
and some
by irration
the mostd

and Pagan

108

which plagued the early Church, especially at Corinth and Collosae. Mor' mportant, ::
demonstrated the sweeping thematic continuity which spanned Graeco Roman religion:
that a state exiSted in which the human psyche could transcend the physical body.
Sometimes, as in the stories of witches, and even Bacchus, this state was used by
supernatural beings for dubious, even nefarious ends. But too, it was a state in which the
human could seek God or the gods, and come-to undersrand the divine self more fully.
In the great religious age which bridged the Classical World and Christendom, many men
and women were compelled to their faith by impulses which surpassed reason and logic;
by irrational, powerful fits which changed their perSpectives forever. It comprised one of
the most definitive links between early and late ancient religion, and between Christianity

and Paganism. It represented one of the great common themes of spiritual metamorphosis.

 

Thu
concerned
have been
metamorpl
exclusively
could dram
for the 301
time to co
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990mg

 

CHAPTER 3

HEALING METAMORPHOSIS AND DREAM CULTURE

Thus far it has been observed that religious beliefs in human metamorphosis
concerned both the mind and the body. Two fundamental variances of this ancient norion
have been explored. First, there were those popular examples of "shape-shifting"
metamorphosis found in the folklore of popular culture. Such ideas were almost
exclusively concerned with the (Sailor. Second, it has been demonstrated how Ekataotg
could dramatically enlighten an individual’s spiritual essence—a kind of metamorphosis
for the soul. Ecstatic ideas were almost entirely focused on the human VODQ. Now it is
time to consider a third form of metamorphosis—one combining elements from the first
two extremes. This was the healing metamorphosis which was sought by religious
adherents in the incubation temples of antiquity. Primarily associated with the cult of
Asklepios, ancient healing sects promised complete transformation—not only in physical
health, but in personal life as well. And just as the ecstatic state was often the vehicle
which accompanied a fundamental transformation in the divine vofig, the supplicants at
ancient Asklepia used dreams to procure their desired cures. It was the element of Greco-

Roman metamorphosis which was the most directly practical in the daily life of ancient

people.

109

 

 

 

The
and medicin
to grow we
limitations1
belief that o
of the most
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0f ASklepi
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providing
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Productio

 

110

The healing cults of the Hellenistic and Imperial periods uniquely fused religion
and medicine. In the starkest of terms, the body’s mortal failings—its tendencies to age,
to grow weak, and its vulnerability to infirmity—were part of those basic physical
limitations which the metamorphosis sought to alleviate. This can be put another way: the
belief that one’s shape could be shifted, as it were, from sickness to health, comprised one
of the most directly attractive and powerful ideas of ancient religious history. The belief
that one’s personality could be shifted from, say, timidity to boldness also proved
tremendously compelling. In short, the healing cults offered a complete metamorphosis;
they promised great things to both the inner and the outer man. It was an especially
compelling blend of medicinal healing of the body and spiritual food for the soul. Aside
from the deification of mortal human beings, and the resurrection from the dead
(avaoracrtg raw vertbv), this was arguably the most sophisticated manifestation of
Greek or Hellenistic shape-shifting beliefs. Antiquity offers many examples of this healing
form of metamorphosis. Perhaps the most widespread and representative is that of the cult
of Asklepios in ancient Asklepia.

Ancient Asklepia foreshadowed the sanitoria of nineteenth century Europe,
providing havens where the chronically ill and/or neurotic could "enjoy bad health" amidst
the serenity of impressive temple sites which were routinely secluded and idyllic.l By
day, the temple’s patrons were at leisure to enjoy bathing, athletic games, theater

productions, scenic walks, or conversation. At night, they would retire to the "dBatov,"

 

1 Kee, Howard, Miracle in the Early Christian World, (New Haven, Connecticut: Yale
University Press, 1983), 104.

 

 

a special 10‘
of the sanc
Asklepios u
an entironn
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Dre
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been mo:
offerings

3 .
Crc

111

a special room generally found in the temple’s inner sanctum. Here, in the solemn Still
of the sanctuary, the shadowy atmosphere redolent with incense, the devotees of
Asklepios would sleep. Not surprisingly, after spending days or weeks immersed in such
an environment, the sleepers would frequently dream of divine visitation. Vivid dreams
seem to have been experienced, including the appearance of Asklepios himself, who
administered doctorly and spiritual advice. Aristophanes’ Plums provides the best generic
account of these "incubation" temples, albeit a sarcastic and irreverent one.

Dreams were one of the commonest avenues by which the gods and God
communicated with men—the vehicle by which the gods offered advice and admonitions.
They were used by practioners of the healing cults to obtain divine guidance for healing.
A popular culture component appeared in many of these beliefs. Cicero wrote that along
with frenetic divination, dreams were the Other chief means of procuring special
knowledge of divine truths and the future.2 He notes that even within his own memory,
the consul Lucius Julius rebuilt Juno’s temple in accordance with the dream of a certain

Caecilia.3 Dreams figure heavily in Apuleius’ story of Lucius and his quest to regain his

 

2 There was no shortage of skepticism regarding such superstitions then, just as there
would be no shortage of skepticism today. In Apuleius’ Metamorphoses, the old maid
comforted the young maiden whom the robbers have kidnapped, since she had been
having nightmares regarding her lover’s safety. The maiden is told that "as the visions of
the day are accounted false and untrue, so the visions of the night do often chance
contrary." "Nam praeter quad diurnae quietis imagines falsae perhibentur, tune etiam
nocturnae visiones contrarios eventus nonnumquam pronuntiant." As for cynicism
regarding incubation and healing, Diogenes the Cynic once remarked that there would had
been more votive offerings if all those whom the god had not healed had left their
offerings. Apul., Met., IV. 27; cf. Diog. Laet, 69.

3 Cic., De div., I. 24.

 

human shat
on the mor
through the
would retL‘
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culture. In
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Zeus in a
sight7 ln

given to i

112

human shape. At the novel’s end, he was advised in a dream to join a procession of Isis
on the morrow. He was told that he would see a priest with roses in his hand. Going
through the crowd, Lucius was to snatch the roses from the priest’s hand. These roses
would return his human form. On the morrow, after a remarkably attractive and
compelling religious parade, he met the foreordained priest with the roses. Eating the
roses from the priest’s hand, he finally regained his human shape.‘

Other stories also reveal the importance which dreams played in ancient religious
culture. In Plutarch’s Cleomenes, a Spartan Ephor received guidance in a dream, while
sleeping in the temple at Pasiphaé.’ Philostratus tells the story that just prior to
Apollonius’ birth in Tyana, the Egyptian deity Proteus had appeared to his mother. The
woman asked about the baby to whom she was about to give birth. Proteus responded,
"Me.”5 In Euripides’ Bacchae, Pentheus implied that Semele had been impregnated by
Zeus in a dream, saying, "I wonder whether he (Zeus) bore you nightly or according to
sight.7 In Petronius’ Satyricon, Quartilla was feeling ill, and asked for a remedy to be

given to her in her dreams.8

 

‘ Later, Lucius wrote that the goddess appeared to him in dreams each night. Apul.,
Met., 13.

5 Plutarch, Cleomenes, 7.

‘5 Philostratus, VA., 1. 4; For more on Proteus, cf. Homer, 0d., 4. 385; Virgil,
Georgics, 4. 387.

7"

norapa 5E: vutctmp o’ 11 mt' ottu' hvdymoev." Euripides, Bacchae, 469.

8 Petronius, Satyricon, l. 17.

 

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113

Indeed, many Greek and Latin dream passages do not use generic words for
dream, Ovap, Ovetpog, or the Latin somnium—itself a derivative of the Latin word for
sleep.9 Instead, most ancient textual passages referring to dreams prefer to use some word
combination which implies that the dream "seemed to be seen." In Latin, some form of
videre somnis is often used, which means to see while in a sleeping state. This differs
from simply saying that someone "saw a dream," which would be videre somm'um. Other

H H

references to dreams include such phrases as "to see in the quiet, videre in quietem.”
In Latin, the noun quiet has connotations which include rest, night, sleep and dream. But
perhaps the most direct and accurate rendering is simply "in the quiet"—-"quiete," or "in

quietem." Again, the emphasis is on the state of being, and not the dream itself. Hence,

the ancient concept of dream seems to have been more a surreality than modern concepts

 

9Quasi sleep states also figure heavily in many in other Greek language accounts in
which divine truths or admonitions are made known to mortals. 801cm) figures into many
of these accounts, as does Blame, the verb "to see." In the Anabasis, XenOphon uses the
word to describe his dream, also referring to dark, distant thunder which adds that
familiar surreal air to ancient dream accounts. One reads that XenOphon "saw a dream."
Moreover, he "was not able to sleep. And while it was thundering, it seemed that a
lightning bolt fell into home." The Greek text reads . . ."eifiev Ovap. éfioésv am
Bpovmg yevouevng ommbc; needy gig mv noctpdiow otrctocv." The word for sleep is
sometimes used to convey this half-waking state as well. The New Testament’s account
of the transfiguration includes description of a state which seems to have John, James and
Peter suspended somewhere between waking and sleeping, as "being heavy with sleep,"
or "flefiapnuzvor have)" (Beeps-:60: to burden, weigh down, or depress). A kind of in
between sleeping state is also implied during Matthew’s account of Joseph’s dream
foretelling Christ’s birth. Here, Matthew tells only that an angel of the Lord (dwelog
Kuptoo) appeared to Joseph in a dream (Kat' Ovap) and announces the Messiah’s birth.
While Matthew does not ever tell readers that Joseph had, in fact, gone to sleep, he does
refer to Joseph’s "having rising from sleep," or Eyepeeiq . . . (into 1:01?) firwou." Also,
Luke’s quoting from the Old Testament prophet Joel, in the book of Acts, uses the
intriguing word évortwaoefiootht: "Your old men "shall dream in sleep." Luke uses
80mm in his description of Peter’s vision in prison. "He seemed to see a dream. EEOKz-rt
58 (Spectra Blenstv." Xen., Ana, 3. 1. 15; Luke 9: 32; Matt. 1: 20-24; Acts 2:17, 12: 9.

 

 

 

 

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114

of dreams—in which the verb "to see" is seldom employed, since it lends an air of reality
to the dream state which modems would never concede.10 The Greeks had the same
sense in their language’s descriptions of dreams, usually using some form "he saw a
dream (atfiev Ovap)," or "he seemed to see a dream."

In this light, many ancient descriptions of dreams are especially striking. Dreams
were often perceived as existing in another realm—a kind of surreal netherworld The
sleeping dreamer was entering this realm. There was a shadowy quality to many dream
descriptions which connoted a kind of hazy, even hypnotic state. Such accounts certainly
seem to hint at modern notions of lucid dreaming. Cicero relates the poem found in the
Annales of Ennius concerning Rhea Silva, the Vestal Virgin who ultimately gave birth to
Romulus and Remus after a divine dream of Mars left her with a not-so-dreamlike

offspring. Here, Cicero quotes Rhea as stating, "a beautiful man was seen by me through

 

1° For Latin terminology regarding sleeping states, Cicero’s De Diviatione has a
lengthy treatise on dreams. It is replete with pertinent samplings of these linguistic
phrases, only a few of which can be noted here. For example, "when Hamilcar seized
Syracuse, he was seen to hear a voice, ". . . cum oppugnaret syracusas, visum esse audire
vocem." Video is used again by Cicero in reporting that after seizing Suguntum, Hannibal
dreamed that Jupiter called him to a summit of the gods: "Hannibal was seen in his sleep

to be called by Jove into a council of the gods. Hannibalem . . . visum esse in somnis
a love in deorum concilium vocari." "In quietem" is also used in a variety of contexts by
Cicero: "he was seen in quiet, (in quitem visum esse)," or . . . "was seen by him in the

quiet ("ei visum in quiete"). Too, Cicero sometimes includes elements of both ”in
quietem," and videre, for example writing that "the second ’night’ . . . Juno was seen by
him—--". . . ei secundum quitem visam esse iunonem." (This account also concerns
Hannibal, who wanted to carry off a column from Juno’s temple, after boring into it and
discovering it was gold. Juno appeared to him in a dream and warned him not to—advice
which he wisely heeded.) These same passages describing dreams also use forms of
videre somnis, for example, "to have seen in sleep, ("in somnis vidisse"), or "he was seen
in somnis (visum esse in somnis). cf. Cic., De div., I. XXIV. 50; 49; 48; 53; 52; 49.

 

 

 

idyllic will1
slightly ha]
per anaoen
were nor tr
lasakm
which the
encounten

m

and disint

wmmm

rams

aCCOUm

 

 

 

 

115

idyllic willows to have abducted me to the riversz and to new places."11 Note the
slightly hazy, pleasant dreamlike quality implied in the phrase "through idyllic willows,
per amoena salicta."12 This hints at all the elements of subliminal psychology which
were not to be articulated for nineteen more centuries. The dream state was perceived as
less a feature of the mind’s activities during sleep than it was another shadowy realm
which the dreamer entered. In this gray and often sweet region, men and women
encountered the gods in ways which could change them forever.
In the Asklepios cult, many notions from this milieu of beliefs regarding dreams
and divine guidance were enjoined into a full-scale religion, complete with an ethical
system, and worship ritual. The cult was the sophisticated culmination of several centuries

of beliefs regarding dreams and miraculous healing metamorphoses. Earlier stories taken

 

u ". . . nam me visus homo pulcher per amoena salicta et ripas raptare locusquo

novos." Cic., De div., I. XX. 40.

12 In Victorian and Gothic literature, the trance-state was often used by moralistic

audiences to justify a salacious preoccupation with sex. Dracula’s victimizations of Lucy
and Mina, for example, were really seductions disguised in the form of authoritarian
trance. That way, the girls—and the audience—could explain away the sexual overtones:
"The Girls thought they were dreaming," or "They were overcome by the hypnotic powers
of the vampire." The virginal maidens being seduced by the Count never seemed quite
able to remember fully the details of the prior night’s activities. They always seemed to
remember it as though it had been a dream, or as though looking at themselves through
some hazy, dream-like fog. In Apuleius’ Metamorphoses, the "sum visas" was the term
used by Socrates to describe the vampiric attack upon him by the witches Meroe and
Panthia. There are elements of that here in the Rhea Silva story. The Vestal Virgin recalls
her illicit seducer only marginally—as though she were staring at him through pleasant,
hazy willows. This way, she can be more detached from the sacrilegious implications of
her own activities. The similarities between Victorian vampire literature and this Roman
account are striking. Apul., Met., 1. 18; Mayo, Herbert, "Trance Sleep, Somnambulism
and Trance-Waking," in The Origins of Dracula, ed. by Clive Leatherdaly, (London:
William Kimber Books, 1987), 191.

 

 

from myth
inadvertent]
control. Tn:
passive mo
experience.
primary Di
such drean
the gods v
Hu
transform:
Which off:
and emplt
age, Spin“
would-be
Asklepng
Could inc
A

cult, bod

quintesse

 

 

116

from mythology, however, depicted divine dreams happening to humans almost
inadvertently—as events which happened to them, and were more-or-less beyond their
control. The same can be said of the ecstatic state, which generally seems to have befallen
passive mortals. Even Paul’s Damascus road conversion fits this definition of religious
experience. So do the stories surrounding Agave, Pentheus, and other characters from the
primary Dionysus myth. Conversely, Asklepios offered a whole practical system in which
such dreams could be routinely procured at the bidding of the supplicant. The whims of
the gods were less relevant.13

Human control was significant in terms of the metamorphosis as well. The
transformation in both ocbttoc and vofrg could now be achieved through the dream culture,
which offered many of the same regenerative and enlightening qualities as other religions,
and employed a much more practical way of attaining them. In a busy and cosmopolitan
age, spiritual enlightenment and physical healing could now be acquired whenever the
would-be supplicant could fit it into his schedule. And the metamorphosis offered by
Asklepios was infinitely practical. It included the basic exigencies of physical health, but
could include the healing of personality disorders as well.

Aristides’ The Sacred Tales provides an e5pecially rich source for the Asklepios
cult, both in terms of temple life and personal religious experience. Arisu'des seems the

quintessential supplicant. Born in AD. 117, he was well-schooled in the Greek tradition

 

’3 It was in this sense a move toward convenience in religion, and one which should
not be unfamiliar to those acquainted with American religious life. Ancient Asklepia
manifest a large-scale turn in ancient religions toward service-oriented religious
consumerism.

 

 

of rhetoric
much det
Poseidon
Encounter
conversio
in the gne
his rhetor

If
fit the bil
as physic:
and religj
reveal pg]
soul. The
Problems
Written 0
’mitacle t
Were plai

"val'iOUS :

 

117

of rhetoric, and he left behind him a legacy of truly prolific writing. His first works reveal
much devotion to the deity Sarapis, as well as more established Hellenic gods like
Poseidon and Apollo. Early on, however, he became convinced his health was failing.
Encountering a vision in the Asklepion at Smyrna, he experienced a life-changing
conversion of almost ’Damascus Road’ proportions. Thereafter, he spent over a decade
in the great temple at Pergamum, where he was thoroughly preoccupied with his health,
his rhetorical skills, and Asklepios.”

If ever there was a candidate for physical and spiritual metamorphosis, Aristides
fit the bill. His years at the Asklepion were spent searching relief from spiritual as well
as physical maladies. One notes not only the early link which existed between medicine
and religion, but between psychology and religion as well. Hence, Aristides’ writings
reveal perhaps the mOSt intriguing combination between religious healing of the body and
soul. The metamorphosis cure sought by Aristides took on a striking range of forms. His
problems were by no means limited to the realm of physical health. Much has been
written on his personality. He does seem a hypochondriac, ever seeking the fabled
’miracle cure.’ At one point, he cited a truly ponderous list of ailments, many of which
were plainly psychosomatic. His breath would get "caught in his throat;" he reported

"various symptoms in my teeth and ears, and a tension everywhere in my arteries.“ He

 

1” For the most thorough and concise summation of Aristides’ life, Behr, C.A., Aelius
Aristides and the Sacred Tales, (Amsterdam: Adolf M. Hakkert, 1968), 121-130.

‘5 For English translations and for the numerical references, this word has used Aelius
Aristides, The Complete Works, trans. by CA. Behr, 2 vols., (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1981).
The Greek text is Arisrides, ed. by W. Dindorf, 3 vols., (Hildesheim: Georg Olrns
Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1964); Ael. Arist., )QNIII. 56.

 

 

 

 

was SO WOF

‘ if to catch ‘
l clearly dis;
public spea

Perhaps he

point. a c:

having sto

Th

sequence,

Marcus A

"none of

translates

\ believes t

orations,

 

118

was so worried about his teeth falling out that he was "always holding up his hands as
if to catch them.” Aristides was also preoccupied with his career as a rhetorician and
clearly displayed frustration in this regard. He seems to have felt some fear regarding
public speaking and competition from colleagues, which also encouraged him to feel ill.
Perhaps he sought a metamorphosis in his own career, as well as health.17 Indeed, at one
point, a companion, Hermocrates of Rhodes, complained that Aristides would claim
having stomach pains to avoid public speaking.‘8

This was the only time Aristides exhibited fear of his own career. In one dream
sequence, he fancied himself keeping company with the Emperors Lucius Verus and
Marcus Aurelius. Noting the general comfort of his surroundings, he pointed out that
"none of those other fearsome fellows was present."19 The word here, which Behr
translates as "fearsome," is "ooBorpog." Behr equates this word with contempt, and
believes that Aristides used it to refer denigratingly to sophist competitors.20 In other

orations, this clearly the case, notably in the Funeral Oration in Honor of Alexander, (Sm

 

1“ ibid., XLVIII. 62.

’7 This linkage between mental health, physical health and career is not as strange as
it may first seem. Consider how many modem-day gurus of pop-psychology and popular
religion promise both better careers and better health.

‘8 ibid., L. 23.
19 Ael. Arist, XLVII. 46.

2° Behr, Aelius Aristides, 106.

 

 

fl

Aieiavbpt
(Alexander:
In I
mmdw.r
competitior
granted evr
COMO;
"busde av
intimidatir
quite clear
Su
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received i
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(“591‘ pt

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21 n

Oration

 

 

119

AheéaVSpcp Emtatpog), in which he praised his former teacher by asserting that he
(Alexander) "did n0t ascribe to hirrrself that most fearsome (ooBaporatog) of titles.”21
In The Sacred Tales, however, the word was used in more than just an insulting
capacity. Aristides fantasizes about security, luxury, and the lack of intimidating
competition for the Emperors’ attention, as evidenced by his claim that "I alone was
granted everything, and no one else had even a small part in these honors."22 The word
ooBapog comes from the verb 001380), meaning to scare away, or more literally, to
"bustle away" a flock of birds. The adjective can mean pompous, haughty—or,
intimidating. So even if Aristides used the word as a "term of contempt," it also seems
quite clear that he was much more comfortable without those "fearsome fellows" present.
Such insecurities and personality quirks are highly significant, for they were often

the focus of the transformations desired by Aristides. Indeed, the "treatments" Aristides
received in Pergamum focused as much on his psyche as on his health. Frequently, this
particular aspect of his experience manifests itself in the guise of career aspirations.
Indeed, if evidence reveals Aristides as an orator occasionally struck with phobia, he was
not without ambition or ego. In fact, during one nocturnal fantasy he compared his own
oratorical skills to the military skills of Alexander the Great.23 Furthermore, he believed
that religious life could improve professional life. In To Plato: In Defense of Oratory,

(trept‘ pneopucrig) he invoked both Hermes and Apollo to guide him in his oratorical

 

2‘ . . opts to ooBorpoirtoctov bump my 0vouotttbv Eneypaqrorto." Funeral

Oration in Honor of Alexander, 3.

22 Ael. Arist, XLVII. 46.

2“ ibid., L. 49.

 

 

 

endeavors
Apollo. W
insrrucring
but the co
duties.

A1
his drearr
mastered
having p:
of public
pressure
mhmh
patients’
reality,26

I
Confider

Once he

(Homer

120

endeavors.“ Similarly, he believed that the pithy priestesses at Delphi, when moved by
Apollo, were rendered capable of making public speeches, ruling governments, and
instructing others in the sciences.” Thus, they were not only given miraculous wisdom,
but the confidence and expertise needed to perform speaking, teaching and administrative
duties.

Aristides sought such a miraculous personal metamorphosis for himself. Many of
his dreams focused on his professional life, not his health. Indeed, he seemed to have
mastered a skill modern therapists call "end-result imagery." This technique involved
having patients relax, then visualize themselves in an idealized form. Individuals fearful
of public-speaking are encouraged to imagine themselves calm and composed in high-
pressure situations, or giving eloquent and impassioned speeches. Obese individuals are
told to imagine themselves being thin and fit. Such techniques are designed to change
patients’ concepts of themselves, so that an individual’s fantasy life can be translated into
reality.”5

It is significant that Aristides experienced dreams which helped to boost his self-
confidence, hence his career. He imagined himself in the most flattering of situations.

Once he dreamed of being praised by a young admirer who marveled upon hearing that

 

”‘ ibid., 11. 19.
2’ ibid., H. 41.41.

2‘ For a discussion of the use of this technique in modern psychology, cf. Korn, E...
and Johnson, K., Visualization: The Uses of Imagery in the Health Professions,
(Homewood, Illinois: Dow-Jones-Irwin,) 162-63.

 

Arisrides
some Der
fancied h
one reve:
conversat
his house
rhetorica
himself.3
dream "f
awakenir

ll
Writings
Physical
techniqu

entity.32

PSychia.
(gluing

 

121

Aristides was so distinguished among men.” At anOther point, he dreamed of reciting
some Demosthenes, claiming he "spoke to the Athenians as if he were he)” Aristides
fancied himself keeping company with the truly great orators and writers of Greece. In
one reverie, he reported that Plato and Lysias were visiting his home to enjoy some
conversation. He was delightfully surprised when SOphocles and Aeschylus drOpped by
his house, too.29 In yet another dream, a philosopher named Rhosander praised Aristides’

rhetorical abilities, saying he spoke with more dignity (aéioua) than Demosthenes

 

himself.30 The effect of imaging is particularly clear when Aristides reported that this
dream "kindled all his later ambition (othorttriaf’ so that he was inspired, upon
awakening, to practice speaking. His friends, he said, noticed much improvement.”1

Imaging your own metamorphosis is a technique found elsewhere in Aristides’

 

writings as well. In the religion of Asklepios, the same practices and beliefs applied to
physical health, too. Perhaps the most noticeable is "displacement," the visualization
technique in which patients imagine their ailments being displaced to some other

entity.32 Another word for this practice is "transference." Transference was a popular

 

27 Ael. Arist., XLVII. 49.
2" ibid., XLVII. 16.

2" ibid., L. 57-62.

3° ibid., L. 19.

3‘ ibid., L. 20.

32 For a useful explanation of displacement, and one accessible to non-specialists in
psychiatry, cf. Stein, Calvert, Practical Psychotherapy in Nonpsychiatric Specialities,
(Springfield, Illinois: Charles C. Thomas, 1969), 92.

 

 

componer

world ((11

healing CI
in a pars
all but uh
night till
wine.33 3

his "heat

34

spor.
P

involved

Mysian

dangemr

\

33 V
account
0f Dion
somerin
§0dlike
dream .
apparen
at morr
certain
abstenu‘
this W0
XXXV.

34

C
HaWart

 

 

122

component of Hellenistic theology, the most famous example being when the "sin of the
world (dtttapttoc 1:01“) Koouofi)" was placed on the back of the crucified Christ. The
healing cults of the day often applied this same notion to medical beliefs. A case recorded
in a papyrus dating from AD. 3 involved Sarapis, though belief in transference was an
all but ubiquitous theme in p0pular religion. An oracle told Thrason the pauper to fast all
night till 4 A.M., at which time he was instructed to drink a full-sized pitcher of unmixed
wine.33 Subsequently, he was to fall asleep. Thrason did as instructed. Upon awakening,
his "headache" was miraculously transferred to a nearby Libyan, who collapsed on the
spot.“

As for Aristides, he displayed an extreme belief in transference, and one that
involved far higher stakes than Thrason and his headache. While travelling through the
Mysian Plain to Smyrna, he learned that Philumene, his foster sister’s daughter, was

dangerously ill. Later, he discovered that the girl has died, asserting that her death had

 

33 Wine played a controversial role in incubation. As noted here in the Thrason
account, it was sometimes a requisite for receiving sacred healing or guidance. The cult
of Dionysus also had elements of this. But too, in dream procurement, its use was
sometimes discouraged. Philostratus reports that dreams and divination were the most
godlike of human faculties. Interpreters of dreams always wanted to know when the
dream was seen—if seen before midnight, or in the early hour of - sleep. This was
apparently due to the notion that dreams could be muddled by alcohol. Dreams dreamt
at morning or just before awakening resulted from a more clean and sober mind. A
certain Greek seer named Oecles, who divined in Attica, induced dreams. He required
abstention from food for one day, and abstention from wine for three days. He believed
this would produce clear-headedness, and receptiveness to divine messages. Phil. VA, 11.
XXXVII.

3" Greek Literary Papyri, I, ed. and trans. by D.L. Page (Cambridge, Massachusetts:
Harvard University Press, 1941), 96.

 

 

not taken
nature of e
girl’s life
Aristides 5
his suprer
vampirict
real tragee
girl’s brot
asupplicz
reporting

E1
malevole
visualiza
Weatmen
Tales an
general;

him_ He

Berensc
Comnm

123

not taken place without "some divine agency (diver) 50:11.100 nvOQJ’”

The precise
nature of this "divine agency" becomes gruesomely clear when an oracle reports that the
girl’s life had been traded for that of Aristides.” Here is a truly compelling image:
Aristides sucking life and health from the virility of the young. He apparently believed
his supreme devotion to the gods entitled him to superior treatment. Yet however
vampiric the dream seems, and however casually Aristides seems to have greeted the very
real tragedy of the girl’s death, he benefitted psychologically, if not physically. After the
girl’s br0ther also died during a smallpox epidemic, Aristides again viewed the death as
a supplication for his own ailments. Finally, he took transference to its logical extreme,
reporting that his relief from a long-running fever coincided with the boy’s dedth.37
Elsewhere, the imaging of desired metamorphosis is equally clear, though far less
malevolent Others of Aristides’ dreams plainly resemble controversial modern
visualization techniques used by cancer patients and therapists. Central themes of such
treatments include visualizing the ailment and then the curative treatment.” The Sacred
Tales are replete with such images. As noted, Aristides’ complaints are consistently

general; his teeth, his circulatory system and his digestive tract particularly fascinated

him. He believed that the gods could directly affect his health, at one point asserting that

 

3‘ Ael. Arist., LI. 18-19.
3‘ ibid., LI. 23-24.
3’ ibid., L. 20.

3‘ For summation of this technique as applied in modern medicine and psychiatry, cf.
Berenson, Susan, "The Cancer Patient," in Relaxation and Imagery: Tools for Therapeutic
Communication and Intervention, (Philadelphia: W.B. Saunders Co., 1988), 171.

 

Asklepios
his dreams
He dream
dreamedt
healthy tis
him to i
interpretet
excavatio
Finally,r
imagery.
involved

funher a

The nod
far fmm
science

Would n
believec
were gp

41

il

 

124

Asklepios somehow cleansed (Kaeaper) his uppereintestinal tract (mv 6M0)” Similarly,
his dreams are full of images involving the god cleansing or purifying Aristides’ body."0
He dreamed that Asklepios came and drew blood (sixty pints!) from his forehead"1 He
dreamed that Sarapis took a lancet and cut into his face, removing refuse and restoring
healthy tissue to the lips and gums.42 He dreamed he was given some figs which caused
him to immediately vomit (med onouSfiv dueiv).43 Often these dreams were
interpreted as medical advice. Hence, after dreaming that he was witnessing the
excavation of a large ditch, he sought an emetic, for he "took note of the dumping."44
Finally, not all Aristides’ medical dreams were connected with Specifically therapeutic
imagery. Pain displacement techniques can be found there, as well. Such procedures
involved the patient’s "focusing on a pleasant scene that then sets the scene for going

"45

further and deeper with specific imagery to relieve pain. Aristides seemed to be

 

39 Ael. Arist., L. 5.

4° Some of this clearly indicates the presence of psychosomatic illness in Aristides.
The notion that the health of the voOg can directly influence the health of the othuoc is
far from new. Mind over matter is not just an idea emanating from nineteenth century
science and pseudo—science. Philo Judaeus, for example, wrote that the best physicians
would not tell the truth to patients who were smitten with deadly disease, because it was
believed that if the patient actually believed he would get better, his chances of doing so
were greatly improved. Philo, Quod Deus Immutablis Sit, X111. 65.

4‘ ibid., XLVIII. 47-48.
“2 ibid., XLIX. 47.
43 ibid., XLVII. 54.

4" ibid., XLVII. 46-50; cf. Bonner, C., "Some Aspects of Religious Feeling in Later
Paganism," in Harvard Theological Review, 30, 1937, 121-22.

45 Berenson, "The Cancer Patient," 182.

 

 

 

 

employing
he dreamt
Upon aw:
finishing.‘
ll
modern p
accounts
scholars 1
part of t
phenome
alleged 1.
problems
Will enri
PTOducir.
no meat
knowing

We mus

 

125

employing this kind of focusing skill. In one section, in great distress with a t00thache,
he dreamed that Asklepios ordered him to gather his friends and read them a speech.
Upon awakening, he did as the god commanded. He was rid of the pain before
finishing.46
The correlation between those images conjured by the sleeping Aristides and
modern psychological techniques of guided visualization is indeed impressive. But his
accounts derive from dreams, not consciously articulated theories. How seriously can
scholars take them? In fact, some modern therapists assert that dreams are very much a
part of the imaging process. More important, they can "be induced, and when this
phenomenon takes place, they become of even greater importance.” Such dreams are
alleged to have both physical and psychological components. "By using the solution to
problems and artistic creations your dream life provides," one psychiatrist writes, "you
will enrich your waking life."48 More, "you will build a capacity for coping with fear
producing situations that carries over into the waking state.”9 But such theories are by
no means new. In the second century A.D., Aristides wrote, "We employ dreams, not
knowing in advance of the evening, surely, what we are going to see, and we know what

we must do to be saved. "50

 

4‘ Ael. Arist., L. 30.

‘7 Korn and Johnson, Visualization, 162-63.

4“ Garfield, Pat, Creative Dreaming (New York: Ballantine Books, 1974), 14.
“9 ibid., 17.

5" Ael. Arist., H. 70.

 

 

 

 

Th.
uaww
health. C1:
the gods 1
Greek his
In the Ne“
the Lindc
Sometim.
scorned
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appears
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and Cr:
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SS

 

126

The role of dreams, then, seems crucial. Asklepios’ adherents sought out dreams
as a way of procuring metamorphosis in many aspects of their lives, not just medical
health. Clearly, dreams had a religious significance. Aristides himself wrote, "the care of
the gods causes mankind to be saved by dreams.”1 Significant dreams appear early in
Greek history, such as the reverie (Overpog) Zeus sent to Agamemnon in The Iliad.52
In the New Testament, dreams were frequently regarded as divine messagess3 Of course,
the kind of credulity associated with such dream seriousness did not go entirely unnoticed.
Sometimes popular beliefs regarding dreams were heartily mocked and disdainfully
scorned. Hippocrates made fun of delirious sleepers who groaned and shrieked all night,
and who would suddenly jump from their bed screaming Hecate was attacking.“ Worse,
people afflicted with these sleep disturbances (perhaps Hippocrates is describing epilepsy)
were exploited by frauds, who created secure jobs for themselves by selling bogus

"cures."55 It was not to be the only time such individuals were to be accused of profiting

 

51 ibid., II. 75.

52 Homer, 11., 11. 25; Dodds, E.R., The Greeks and the Irrational, (Berkeley:
University of California Press, 1951), 122, ftn. 20.

53 Here are some of the most famous examples: In Matthew 1, "an angel of the Lord
appears to him in a dream . . . ayyehog mptou Kat’ ovap eoavn (6vocp=dream)." In
Matthew 2, while dreaming, Joseph is told to flee to Egypt. In Acts 18, the Lord speaks
to Paul "through a dream (51' opaua’tog)" by night. Matt. 1:20; Acts 18: 9.

54 In a similar light, Lucian wrote of a fever epidemic during the reign of king
Lysimachus in Abdera. After it broke, people‘went "mad with tragedy, shouting iambics
and creating a din." "artavreg yap cg spaytofiiocv napextvouv Kai iauBt-ria éoeyyouv'to
Kort treya éBbmv." Hipp., Sacr. Dis., IV. 30; Lucian, How to Write History, 1.

55 ibid., II. 140.

 

 

from other
develome
St
Sometime
leaves on
a more 5;
religious
Philo Inc
11

offer, (it:
makes tl
Being d.
or divim
Which i:
become

seeing <

1’robab?

 

 

 

127

from other people’s dreams. In a disturbing reminder that anti-semitism is not a modern
development, Juvenal wrote that Jews would sell any sort of dream.“

Still, procuring dreams was taken very seriously by many of the faithful.
Sometimes dreams were pursued with overtly simple magic, like the belief that laurel
leaves on the sleeper’s head would cause his dreams to come true.57 But there was often
a more specifically theological or spiritual component. Extensive or otherwise impressive
religious rituals could create sacred dreams. For example, after undergoing some rites,
Philo Judaeus was carried into a spiritual realm where he saw the prophet Jeremiah.58

In light of the powerful forces of metamorphosis which dreams were thought to
offer, dreams became something of a field of inquiry in their own rite. Aristides himself
makes the assertion that he has been trained in "divine visions," using the Greek phrase
Ger/ac 30mg.” The word Baiting is, of course, an adjective designating the noun as holy
or divine. The word OWEU; is the plural of 0mg, a noun derived from the same root, OTC,
which is found in the verb ontauouou (to see). But when G is added to It, the letters
become ‘1’ for euphonic reasons. Thus what would normally be onmg becomes 0mg: a
seeing or a viewing, hence a vision.

But is Aristides referring to what would be conventionally considered dreams?

Probably he is, though the question is not without some ambiguity. The Sacred Tales lack

 

56 Iuv., IV. 546.
5" Fulg., Myth, 1. l4.
5“ Phil. Jud, De cherub., 49.

59 Ael. Arist., XLVII. 38.

 

 

 

 

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not detaili
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the verbE
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ancients
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128

commensurate references to sleep and preparation for sleep. Aristides himself admits to
not detailing the circumstances in which the dreams occurred.60 Furthermore, the text
often fails to disdnguish clearly between dream passages and waking passages. Quite
often there is no more warning that a dream passage is occurring than the imperfect of
the verb aoxe’os, often followed by the infinitive etvon, or ovagythveroa. Thus one reads,
"éfidxouv elven uev Aenvnotv," or that "uor yiyveron (Sn/1g)"51 Such passing remarks
are often the reader’s only indication that Aristides has passed from describing waking
life to dream life—two states of consciousness which, in The Sacred Tales, are often
otherwise indistinguishable.62
But if specific references to sleeping and dreaming in Aristides are lacking, there
is an abundance of indirect evidence from which historians can infer much. In general,

the cult’s adherents were immersed in an atmosphere conducive to special sacred dreams.

 

6° ibid., XLVIII. 2.
6‘ ibid., LI. 56-57.

62 There was an interesting belief in a "first sleep," the early stage of sleep which the
ancients apparently believed to be the deepest stage of sleep. This is probably what is
referred to in Cicero’s reference to an Arcadian traveller who "being terrified rose up
from the first sleep . . . eum primo pererritum somnio surrexisse." LCL translator
Falconer translated this passage as "greatly frightened at first by the dream, he arose."
It probably refers however, to the "primus somnus," that first stage of sleep which the
ancients believed to be particularly strong, and most vulnerable to dreams. Apuleius
referred to this same belief. Here, he reported that the robbers to whom unfortunate ass-
Lucius has been enjoined moved at the moonless time of night (noctis illunio tempore),
"in which it was believed that "affable sleep invaded the hearts of mortals more strongly
with its first attack—quo somnus obvius impetu primo corda mortalium validius invadit."
At the end of Metamorphoses, Lucius fled to the town of Cenchreae, a port on the
Corinthian isthmus. Sleeping, he awoke to a full moon—a time when he believed that the

goddess Isis had the most puissance and strength. It was a time when animals and
inanimate things were made stronger. Cic., De div., 1. XXVII. 56; cf. Apul., Met., IV.
18; XI. 1.

 

 

Porphyriu.
purity by
Asklepios
"uncrossa
Strangely
Spillluallj
51
focused t
temple p
encoulag
profit the
The min

Arisude:

\

63 P‘
réve dw

6‘ r:
Purity. 1
Other hl
devotio-
that son
Ill Des“
in this
make 1:
rememl
Sympm
healing
De Sac

6S

129

Porphyrius noted that, before going into the temple, followers were expected to achieve
purity by thinking pure thoughts.63 Even the word dBatov, referring to the room where
Asklepios’ dev0tees slept, is derived from aBatog, a verbal adjecrive meaning
"uncrossable," "inaccessible," or "consecrated." Indeed, the word and the room seem
strangely reminiscent of the Hebrew’s ’Holy of Holies,’ into which only the most
spiritually pure priests were allowed to enter.“

Spending their days striving to maintain spiritual purity kept worshippers’ thoughts
focused on Asklepios, helping to prepare their minds for dreaming in the dBarov. But
temple patrons did not think only of the soul. Aristides implied that the infirm were
encouraged to focus their thoughts on physical ailments, stating, "desire leads to what will
profit them," adding, "they desired to vomit when to do so was going to be expedient!“

The mind-set which helped to produce sacred dreams was continued upon waking. For

Aristides, this took the form of a dream diary. At one point he claimed that the god

 

"3 Porph., De abstent., II. 19; cf. Becker, Raymond, Les Machinations de la Nuit: La
réve dans 1’ histoire et 1’ histoire du réve, (Paris: Editions Planete, 1964), 157.

6‘ Healing cults surrounding Isis (Isis Hygeia) also demanded a measure of spiritual
purity. Plato notes that the confession of sin was a prerequisite for healing with Isis, and
Other healing religions as well. The poet Tibullus asked Isis to heal him, promising
devotion in return for an answer to his request. All this contrasts with Lucian’s criticisms
that someone could buy good health from the gods for the price of a cow. This is the "Do
at Des" form of religion admirably described by Burkert in his chapter "Personal Needs
in this Life and After Death." Burkert reminds readers of Plato’s assertion that people
make promises to the gods when they are ill, or in trouble. Still, one needs always to
remember that religion can also lift up peoples’ sights as can few other things. Plato,
Symposium, 201d—212c; laws, 909; Tibulus, l. 3. 23-32; for more information on the
healing properties of the Isis cult, Diod. Sic., 1. 23. 4; Diogenes Laertius, 5. 76; Lucian,
De Sacr., 2; Burkert, Ancient Mystery Cults, 16.

‘5 Ael. Arist., 11. 62.

 

ordered h
believe t1".
conscious
Other thir
your tire:
I
dreams"
seem to
mixture
mOSt no
by Arist

juSt belt

0f the '
Hypnot
mental

Stmng

68

Backel

70

 

130

ordered him to write down his dreams.66 This is significant. Some modern researchers
believe that dream diaries can enhance the dream experience by teaching sleepers to be
conscious of their reveries. More, the dreamer can develOp "almost t0tal recall" by, among
other things, "valuing the dreams and lying quietly upon awakening . . . lie still and let
your dreams flow back?“

This infatuation with various divine emissaries no doubt produced acute "lucid
dreams" in which "the dreamer is consciously aware that they are dreaming while they
seem to be soundly asleep."68 Such a state would help account for the rather bizarre
mixture of sleeping and waking images in many of The Sacred Tales’ dream sequences,
most notably the ubiquitous dream of Asklepios or some other shadowy figure standing
by Aristides’ bed. Aristides notes a certain philosopher, Rhosander, frequently visited him
just before he awoke, a time when most lucid dreams were said to occur.“9

Another important component used in inducing therapeutic dreams was the sense

of the "warm safe place,‘ an image used all but universally by relaxation therapists.
Hypnotists and teachers of self-hypnotism recommend that relaxation be linked to specific
mental images, frequently a calming, idyllic natural setting; a palace which evokes a

strong sense of security and contentment.70 But whereas modern psychoanalysts have

 

‘56 ibid., XLVIII. 2.
67 Garfield, Creative Dreaming, 173-74.

‘58 Conscious Mind, Sleeping Brain: Perspectives on Lucid Dreaming, ed. by Jayne
Backenbach and Stephen Laberge, (New York: Plenum Press, 1988), ix.

6" Ael. Arist, L. 19.

7° Korn and Johnson, Visualization, 90.

 

 

patients lit
Asklepios
regard, Wt
religious -
ll

of physio
himself r
Minor to

by its A

in an ins

often, te

of urbal

Olive tr

rich dat

75

Religi.

 

131

patients lie on sofas in modern office buildings and imagine restful scenes, the priests of
Asklepios had created a real, tangible, warm, safe place: the temple complex itself. In this
regard, worshippers of Asklepios had discovered the peculiar institution known in modern
religious circles as a retreat.

The sites where the ancients went to worship Asklepios—and seek metamorphosis
of physical Calla and the divine voibg—were among antiquity’s most beautiful. Aristides
himself reports, in The Panathenaic Oration (IIavocGnvoct'xdg), that many cities in Asia
Minor took great pride in their temples.71 Strabo states that Epidarus was made famous

by its Asklepion.72 The sense of entering a ’warrn, safe place’ is poignantly preserved

n73 Qu1t C

in an inscription found there referring to "entering the golden house of the god.
often, temples were constructed outside the city, in rural settings, away from the bustle
of urban-life.74 In Epidarus the sanctuary was about six miles outside of the town.75

Olive trees grew around the altars."5 The large sanctuary of Cos was renowned for its

rich dark grove of Cyprus trees which surrounded the temple complex.77

 

71 Ael. Arist., I. 364.
72 Strabo, Geo., s. o. 15.

73 Ferguson, John, The Religions of the Roman Empire, Ithaca, New York: Cornell
University Press, 1970), 110. '

7‘ Plut., Mor., 2862.
75 Paus., II. 27. 5.
76 Walton, Alice, The Cult of Asklepios, (Boston: Ginn and Company, 1894), 138.

77 Places, Edouard des, La Religion’Grecque: Dieux, Cultes, Rites et Sentiment
Religieux dans la Gréce Antique, (Paris: Editions A. et J. Picard et Cie, 1969), 108.

 

 

Th
naturalisdt
invariably
springs. ‘
especially
a spring. '
When Ar
water, "u
the bathi
comprise
praised '
ipéup
(“Wm

Propertit

Aristide
benefici
It‘vmple

he coul.

78‘

79

 

 

132

These sites were not only intended to provide peace and quiet for the soul. The
naturalistic sanctuary they represented also created the arnbience of physical health. This
invariably necessitated that the Asklepion be located near the site of clear, healthful
springs. Vetruvius wrote about Asklepia’s need for healthful locales, pointing out,
especially, the need for pure water.78 In Corinth, also, the Asklepion was located near
a spring. Temple patrons seemed to derive satisfaction and even strength from the waters.
When Aristides and companions travelled, they sometimes felt compelled to seek out pure
water, "unpolluted" by city life. This way, even while travelling, they were able to enjoy
the bathing which the god frequently ordered in their dreams.79 In Pergamum the waters
comprised an essential component of the cult’s curative powers. Aristides particularly
praised the springs there. In Regarding the Well at the Temple of Asklepios, (sic to
(bpéap tori Aorchemofi) and again in A Panegyric on the Water in Pergamum
(Hocvnyupucdq értt to) 135mm t-fv Hepyoiuqo), he lavishes praise on the water’s miraculous
properties.80

This serene secluded atmosphere figures heavily in the images conjured up in
Aristides’ dreams. It was the atmosphere which made virtually any ancient Asklepion so
beneficial a place for both the othua and the voOg. In sequence after sequence, the
temple appeared as a kind of haven, where Aristides could find peace and leisure, where

he could relax amidst the warm acceptance of friends and admirers. "I dreamed that I was

 

78 Vit., De arch., l. 27.
7" Ael., Arist., XLVII. 52.

3° ibid., XXXIX. 4; cf. L11. 3.

 

 

in the tip
friends g1
seen me
in an As
reports h
in the cc
of Apol
warmth:
again to

Asklepi

induce
Signific
were v
divine
dimen:
dream
Simila

may i

 

 

 

133

in the nportfihata (gateway to the temple) of the Asklepion, and a certain one of my
friends greeted me warmly (neptfldthhstv Kai othoopoveioeat) . . . since he had not
seen me in a long time."81 Many dream sequences Open with Aristides finding himself
in an Asklepion somewhere, and feeling glad and secure to be where he is. In one, he
reports his pleasure (exarpov) at being in the temple of Apollo on Mount Milyas. More,
in the confusion familiar to anyone who has ever slept and dreamt, he thought the priest
of Apollo there was also the priest of Isis in Smyrna. Again there is that image of
warmth: "I dreamed we had long been fast friends," he said.82 The word xociptn is used
again to describe his feeling upon dreaming that he had found himself in the temple of
Asklepios at dawn, and he was "glad" because it opened early.83
Since so many of Aristides’s dreams are initiated with the sort of setting used to
induce and deepen hypnotic states, the question of suggestion inevitably arises. This is
significant, since an earlier chapter has already noted how ecstatic and trance-like states
were vehicles by which the religious follower could transform and enlighten his or her
divine v01); In this light, the dream component of Asklepios’ cult takes on an added
dimension of relevance. As was the case with ecstatic states, supplicants who had vivid
dream experiences could undergo dramatic transformations of mind and body. The
similarities with trance-like conditions found in ancient religions is striking. Indeed, there

may well have been some connection between trance-states, and the lucid dreaming

 

3‘ ibid., XLVII. 10.
32 ibid., XLWII. 2425.

*3 ibid., XLVVII. 30.

 

 

 

 

sought by
acute luci
terminolt
so, this n
the ecsra
Apuleius
cults prt
routinelj
vobg w
superna

thth

the "er
a pries
"medic
Dodds
readin;

"Waldl

EVflu

CORO
Ludw
JOhns

 

134

sought by devotees at the Asklepia. Laboratory research has shown hypnosis to produce
acute lucid dreaming.34 The question which arises can only be framed in the most basic
terminology: was anything resembling trance induction used in the cult of Asklepios? If
so, this would provide an important link between the incubation temples of Asklepios and
the ecstatic experiences described elsewhere in other Hellenistic and Imperial texts like
Apuleius, Ovid, Plutarch, and the New Testament. The dream culture of ancient healing
cults provided a kind of world where the revelation sought in ecstatic states could be
routinely procured. With practice, an experienced dreamer could encounter the divine
voOg with nightly frequency. It was an ingenious religious method of tapping into the
supernatural powers which were believed capable of forever and fundamentally altering
the adherents, both physically and spiritually.

The role of hypnosis in ancient Asklepia is controversial. E.R. Dodds denigrated
the "crude view" that patients were "hypnotized," or mistook "waking for sleeping and
a priest in fancy dress for the divine healer." Rather, he compared Asklepios’ cult with

"85 What seems odd, however, is that

"medieval and modern religious faith-healing.
Dodds would make that distinction at all. No such delineation is necessary. A careful
reading of Aristides’ The Sacred Tales reveals both hypnosis and patients confusing

"waking and sleeping," as well as forms of faith-healing. The religious zealots of the

 

8" Cohen, David B., and Price, Robert F., "Lucid Dream Induction: an Empirical
Evaluation," in Conscious Mind, Sleeping Brain, 122.

85 Dodds, E.R., "Supemormal Phenomena in Classical Antiquity," in The Ancient
Concept of Progress, (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1973), 169; cf. Edelstein, Emma and
Ludwig, Asclepius: A Collection and Interpretation of the Testimonies, 11, (Baltimore:
Johns Hopkins Press, 1945), 159.

 

 

vii“

 

 

 

Hellenism
experimel
life to nc
would ha
the and:
inductior
variety
Asklepi:
alm03t i
somethi
hnkage
derived

to give

of hyp
lucid z

lllCl‘ap:

 

 

135

Hellenistic and Imperial eras were an inquisitive and eager lot, and they were willing to
experiment with all sorts of religious experiences. A man who could devote years of his
life to nocturnal dreaming of gods and godly advice was a man who almost certainly
would have dabbled with whatever forms of trance induction and somnolent experience
the ancient world had to offer. The question is, then, just what forms of hypnotic
induction were available to the ancients, and which ones were used in the Asklepia.

A previous chapter has already expended much ink documenting the extent and
variety of trance and ecstatic experiences available to the ancients. In the case of
Asklepia, the question is not the existence of trance-like states which may have existed
almost inadvertently. Rather, the charge is that the priests of ancient Asklepia practiced
something resembling formal hypnotic induction. It is a highly controversial notion. The
linkage between hypnosis and sleep cannot be overlooked The word hypnosis itself is
derived from the Greek word from sleep, i’mvog—though the word hypnosis, adding 0
to give it a more abstract connotation, would not occur for several centuries.86

Several passages in The Sacred Tales, largely overlooked, also suggest the practice
of hypnotic induction. Already it has been noted that methods employed in producing
lucid and meaningful dreams frequently resembled those used in modern relaxation

therapy. Apuleius had referred to the use of music or verse. Aristides seemed to hint at

 

8" In the story, previously noted above, Apuleius is accused of bewitching young boys
through the use of incantations. Though denying the charge, Apuleius does concede that
he had heard children may be lulled into an oblivious state through the use of music or
sweet smells. Haddock, Joseph, Somnolism and Psycheism, (New York: Harper and Row,
1959), 58; Rose, H.J., Religion in Greece and Rome, (New York: Harper and Row, 1959),
58; Dodds, The Ancient Concept of Progress, 200; Apul., Apol., 42; Acts 10: 10; 22: 17.

 

 

 

136

something similar. Feeling quite faith, he wrote a lengthy poem about Asklepios’
mythological mother Coronis. Here, he seemed to be almost employing meditation and
relaxation techniques, notably chanting. He reports that he stretched the strOphe to great
lengths and that he sang them in a state of "inward focus." This phrase—”Kort ’is'tlautov
istvunGeig—is n'anslated by Behr as "inward focus." But Behr overemphasized the
intellectual aspects of Aristides’ activities, and devalued the mystical, with this
rendering.87 eveuueouon is generically translated "considering" or "pondering," while
Kata plus the personal accusative pronoun ’ttocmov means, literally, "according to
myself." Given the unique context of this passage, the phrase clearly implied more a
meditative mystic state than a logical or rational one. Moreover, the singing of the lengthy
strophe combined with Aristides’ meditation seems to have produced an altered state of
consciousness, for Aristides reports a "forgetfulness of all troubles (noivcdw t‘ifin Miter]
ijV 1:th Suoxeptbv).88

Aristides’ assertion that he was trained in "divine visions," as well as his
apparently uncanny ability to procure lucid dreams for himself, involves some level of
autosuggestion. This is true, despite the Edelsteins’ assertion to the contrary. More
controversial is the notion of hypnotic states being induced by temple priests. The
Edelsteins’ in particular, cautioned against such an interpretation, since it was an

argument so easily exploited by cynics and anti-religious types.89 This is certainly

 

8" Ael. Arist., XLVII. 73.
3" ibid., XLVVII. 39.

89 Edelsteins, Asclepius, 158-65.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

undersra
world’s
at the er
incident

inducnc

who se
extends
years fl
Aristidt
a pries

Ostens

of a p:
Luciar
goven
centre
and p(
men.
Susan
3 SW:
hanc
anion
Well.

Wrote
as ivt
contr.
do In

 

 

 

137

understandable, even honorable. Opponents of theism have often labeled leaders of the
world’s great religions as frauds or magicians—or merely emphasized the few charlatans
at the expense of the many sincere believers.90 Still, facts are facts. There is at least one
incident in The Sacred Tales which can be construed as a classic case of hypnoric
induction.

Aristides and some comrades travel to Smyrna. There, he dreams. He sees a figure
who seems at once to be both Asklepios and Apollo. The figure stands before his bed,
extends his fingers and "calculates (oulhoytoo’tuevogf' the time, saying, "You have ten
years from me and three from Sarapis."91 Already several points warrant mention. First,
Aristides seems quite confused as to the identity of the visitor by his bed. Perhaps it is
a priest. More important is the strange reference to calculating time with the fingertips.

Ostensibly this referred to the years Aristides had spent in devotion to both Asklepios and

 

9° There was no shortage of frauds and charlatans in ancient religion. Lucian wrote
of a prophet of Asklepios, Alexander, who was apparently quite a rouge. According to
Lucian, Alexander realized at a very young age that hope and fear were central emotions
governing all human activities. The man or woman who could learn to harness and
control these emotions in others would subsequently be able to tap into immense wealth
and power. Alexander apparently mastered this art He would prophecy healing to dying
men—presumably for a price—then recant his prOphecy at the last minute, just as the
supplicant was about to die. Too, Lucian describes him as having fiery, glowing eyes and
a sweet voice. Both these qualities no doubt lent Alexander a charismatic and even
hypnotic air. This seems significant in light of questions regarding the use of hypnosis
among other priests of Asklepios. There were, by the way, plenty of medical frauds as
well. (I must resist the temptation to make yet another modern analogy). Cynical Lucian
wrote of physicians who tried their best to look the part, sporting such medical baubles
as ivory pill-boxes and golden scalpels. These were, however, entirely for show. Lucian
contrasts such frauds with real physicians, who may not have the prettiest equipment, but
do know what they are doing. Lucian, Alexander, 3; The Ignorant Book Collector, 29.

9‘ Ael. Arist., XLVII. 18.

 

 

 

 

Sarapis,

even ges
incident
century.
which i
cornse,

pracdce
Aristidt

llldllCllt

CYCEICS
me "at
a com

complt

1986)

117; j
OfDr

ml 3
too I

138

Sarapis, respeCtively. But such an act would also necessarily involve some maneuvering,
even gesticulating, of the hands. Hence, one sees overt similarities between this specific
incident and methods of hypnotic induction extensively employed during the nineteenth
century. These involved having the patient fixate his gaze on the therapist’s fingertips,
which were subsequently wiggled or quivered as suggestions were made.92 And of
course, counting of some sort or another comprises a virtually universal theme in hypnoric
practice. One cannot rule out the possibility that the shadowy, confusing figure at
Aristides’ bedside is a priest, employing ancient and now forgotten techniques of hypnOtic
induction.

The technique seems to have worked. The figure at Aristides’ bedside apparently
creates in him a state of complete somnambulism, a deep hypnotic state which includes
the "ability to keep the eyes open and get up and walk about."93 Bearing this in mind,
a comparison between a scene in The Sacred Tales and one suggested script for inducing
complete ambulatory hypnosis is instructive. Aristides writes:

Standing before my bed in this form, when he had extended his finger and

calculated the time, he said "You have ten years from me, and three from

Sarapis. . . He said that "this was not a dream (ovap) but a waking state

(unap)," and that I would also know it. At the same time he commanded
that I go down to the river and bathe.“

 

92 Edmonston, William, The Induction of Hypnosis, (New York: John Wiley and Sons,
1986), 175.

9’ Chertok, L., Hypnosis, trans. by D. Grahm, (New York: Permarnon Press, 1966),
117; Mayo, Herbert, Trance Sleep, Somnambulism, and Trance-Waking," in The Origins
of Dracula, ed. by Clive Leatherdaly, (London: William Kimber Books, 1987), 191.

9‘ "av route) rd) oxtttatt more éunpooeev tn; euvflg npoBoltbv 1:er 8(1me
teat xpovoug rivag ouMuyudttrevog, éxerg. 64m, Séxa Em nap’ éuor‘) teat tpta trapa
101') Xapamfiog...tafica 5e elven out: Ovap, (ELAN i’map, 8108on 86 mt ainov. teat

 

used by 1

‘ (IO 0 r—C

commar
ambulai
exampl
defmiti

COllll0ll

Chertc
Sacrec
come
the in

prOfOl

dream

fillet
Ael.

 

 

139

This quotation has numerous similarities with the following script, designed tO be

used by professional hypnO-therapists:

You are relaxed . . . you can Open your eyes without waking up. At first,

everything will seem confused, and then things will get clearer. You will

go on sleeping, and, still asleep, you will be able to get up and walk about.

. . . Now Open your eyes very slowly. You see things all blurred. But they

get more and more distinct, and everything now seems quite clear.”

There are several similarities here. First, both passages have the distinct
commanding tone which mark traditional authoritarian hypnosis. More important is the
ambulatory somnambulism implied in both texts. The figure at Aristides’ bed, for
example, asserts that "this is not a dream, but a waking state (unap)." In its simplest
definition, the word unocp means reality. But another meaning, clearly in use here,
connotes a "waking state.“

Both passages also refer to increasing clarity which the subject will experience.
Chertok suggests that things would initially seem "blurry," but soon become clearer. The
Sacred Tales seems to imply the same thing, the figure telling Aristides that he would
come tO realize the nature Of his condition. Indeed, the verb the figure uses, EIO‘EO’GOtt,
the future infinitive Of Office, to know, also implies a kind Of "coming to" from within a
profoundly deep trance-state, and an attainment Of lucidity and clarity.

More telling are the strings Of events which Aristides experiences following his

dream. Upon awakening, he acts immediately to carry out the command given him in his

 

ditto: minder KOttOtBétVta etc; rev norauOv rev 1ch mg 1:0an peovcoc AOOOOLO'GOtt."
Ael. Arist., XLVVIII. 18.

95 Chertok, Hypnosis, 117.

 

 

dream, aim
the very p6
the vision <
off his rob
disregard e
an incredil
comprises
individuals
icecold w
of inner a
during the
0f the sun
there is a
Ar
0f hypno;

Clearly in

 

140

dream, almost as if compelled by some post-hypnotic suggestion. He reports that it was
the very peak Of winter and the weather was freezing.96 Still "being full Of warmth from
the vision Of the god (Err trig Gépung the isx Oil/8mg 1:00 9800 ueOtog div)" he strips
Off his robe and jumps into the freezing river.97 Significantly, Aristides claims an utter
disregard Of the frigid water, reporting instead that his skin had a rosy hue, and there was
an incredible lightness throughout his body. Here, one recalls that insensitivity to pain
comprises an important part Of the deepest hypnotic conditions. Experiments have shown
individuals hypnotized thus have shown truly remarkable indifference to pain, including
ice-cold water and even branding irons on the skin.98 Similarly, Aristides reports feelings
Of inner warmth (deletion Omvextig) while he was swimming in freezing water, and also
during the remainder of the day. Aheoc generally refers to the warmth and radiant light
of the sun, another common image in relaxation and hypnotic imagery. More important,
there is a rise in body temperature during hypnosis, particularly waking hypnosis.99
Aristides also appeared to experience time distortion, another marked characteristic
Of hypnosis”) Throughout the experience, Aristides med oblivious to the hour, most

clearly indicated by his exclamation, "Who could say what came nextl," as well as the

 

9‘ Ael. Arist., XLVIII. 2o.
9’ Note again the use of dung. Cf. ibid., XLVII. 37.
98 Inglis, Brian, Trance, (Toronto: Grafton Books, 1989), 78-80.

99 Edmonston, William, Hypnosis and Relaxation: Modern Verification of an Old
Equation, (Toronto: John Wiley and Sons, 1981), 154.

10° Sparks, Laurence, Self-Hypnosis, (New York: Wilshire Books, 1962), 108.

 

 

 

fact that ht
appears an
that he "sat
by patients
euphoric s:
"inexplical
aPPUiOQl
or "said"
possibility
the word
the word
same W01
into the
1311mm
similarit

Were ab]

 

141

fact that he did nothing the rest Of the day save worship Asklepios.101 TOO, there
appears an element Of surrealism, also quite typical of trance states. Aristides’ assertion
that he "saw things but did not see them," hints at a description Of mesmerism Often cited
by patients Of modern therapy: "Things seemed unreal.""’2 Finally, Aristides cited a
euphoric sense Of well being, "dcppnrOg eueuttat."‘°3 Behr again translates this phrase
"inexplicable contentment," again deleting the religious overtones Of the words. Actually,
dippntog is derived from pfiitog, an adjective with a passive meaning connoting "spoken,"
or "said." And as with many adjectives ending in tog, the word also refers to
possibility—hence means speakable. The apositive or negates the word, just as it does in
the word atheist or amoral. Hence, the word literally means unspeakable, or holy, just as
the word d’tBOttov means literally an area "inaccessible" or "consecrated" Indeed, this
same word appears in 2 Corinthians in the passage where Paul describes being caught up
into the "third heaven," whereupon he heard un3peakable words (flxouoev dppncor
tptittoctocfo" Both Paul and Aristides described an ecstatic state which bears many
similarities with hypnotic trance, as defined by modern psychology. In this state, they

were able to procure metamorphosis for themselves.

 

10‘ Ael. Arist., XLVIII. 22.
“’2 Ael. Arist., XLVVIII. 23; cf. Edmonston, Induction of Hypnosis, 367.
“’3 Ael. Arist., XLVIII. 23.

m4 2 Cor. 12: 4.

 

In.
which sup
altered sta
advice c01
some of t'
world’s n
realm: 1r.
were pOV

entirely

142
CONCLUSION

In antiquity, the incubation temples provided one Of the most practical avenues by
which supplicants could seek Out and procure metamorphosis. This involved the use of
altered states Of consciousness in which it was believed that god (Asklepios) could Offer
advice concerning health, career, and general personal well-being. The Asklepia provided
some Of the most rewarding and beneficial acts Of metamorphosis available tO the ancient
world’s religious supplicants. But their benefits, however tangible, were decidedly Of this
realm: transformation of physical and mental health, career and even personality. They
were powerful gifts which the god could Offer his devotees. They were arguably almost
entirely secular gifts. It can be argued that tO Offer greater rewards tO mortals, ancient
religion had to look beyond the confines Of the human life and the mortal sphere. TO do
this, ancient religion ultimately Offered to mortals the greatest act Of metamorphosis Of

all: the ability to become god, and live forever.

 

It
demonsnt
medicine.
which ve'
Many Ht
blood. I
metamor
Ultimate
life. The
(than c
In this I

was Cl't

be cm
Han-is"
Claren

CHAPTER 4

REGENERATIVE METAMORPHOSIS THROUGH BLOOD

It has been said that "Blood is the life." Today, more than ever, science has
demonstrated this Old European adage to be true. Yet centuries before the discoveries Of
medicine, ancient religion and pOpular culture had evolved SOphisticated belief systems
which very much understood blood to be the life-giving liquid we know it to be today.1
Many Hellenistic/Imperial cultures reveal stark beliefs in the regenerative powers of
blood. This is significant in terms Of the metamorphosis. More abstract forms of
metamorphosis involved the transformation of both caller and vofig into idealized forms.
Ultimately, this involved the injection Of some redemptive element into ancient religious
life. The consciousness could be not only enlightened, but fundamentally saved. The
odnroc could be not only healed, but raised from the dead into an idealized (teleog) state.
In this regard, the role which blood came to play in many metamorphosis belief systems

was crucial.

 

1 Harris’ work asserts that the ancient Greeks never understood the blood system to
be circulatory in nature, despite what he describes as "superior methods Of inquiry."
Ham's, C.R.S., The Heart and Vascular System in Ancient Greek Medicine, (Oxford:

Clarendon Press, 1973), 1-2.
143

 

Ancit
the metamor
rejuvenate tl
its powers w
drinking of
creature cou
living creati
antiquity’s
powerful g1
But this sar
of the anci
which riva
Petty but c

beliefs in r

In
itself bc’m
Case, relig
Sacrifice .

This is 3i.

 

 

 

144

Ancient religious beliefs in blood have two important themes directly relating to
the metamorphosis. First, blood was Often seen as having regenerative powers. It could
rejuvenate those who employed its powers, either physically or spiritually. To this end,
its powers were harnessed, usually in some ritualistic way, sometimes involving the literal
drinking Of blood. A second and related theme is that the blood and/or life of one living
creature could be sacrificially Offered as a propitiation for the blood and/or life Of anOther
living creature. This is transference. The concept Of transference was a prevalent one in
antiquity’s religious life. Indeed, its most Obvious legacy is still with us today in the
powerful guise Of the Christian Lamb, whose blood was offered on behalf Of humankind.
But this same powerful idea is manifested in myriads Of other cultures and belief systems
of the ancient world. Sometimes it is found in the powerful faiths of later paganism,
which rivaled Chrisrianity in power and popularity. Other times it is found in the quite
petty but colorful world Of popular culture, and the fascinating local superstitions and

beliefs in magic which comprised the folk religion of the common peOple.

LIFE AND SACRIFICE

In some forms Of metamorphosis belief, blood was synonymous with life—life
itself being a precious commodity in the Often harsh ancient world. And as is so Often the
case, religion occasionally demanded the sacrifice Of that which is most precious. Human
sacrifice was still practiced and rumored to be practiced in the periods Of later antiquity.

This is significant, since the idea Of either physical or spiritual renewal by the consuming

 

 

 

 

 

of blood—it
life-force o
sometimes
ranging frOl
Lord’s Sui
renewal—c
antiquitys
medieval a
Hu
and Isaac,
many peo]
believed b
to these 3:
Of a certa
indicate t]
The Font
Gauls we

were bel

 

 

145

of blood—in one form or another—is very similar to human sacrifice. In both cases, the
life-force of one being is believed transferred to another being, sometimes divine,
sometimes human. It is this core belief which is evidenced in a variety Of practices,
ranging from the elemental formulae of sorcery to the beautiful imagery Of the Christian
Lord’s Supper. The belief, both literal and symbolic, that blood Offers life and
renewal—or that the life Of one can be offered for the life of anOther—is one of
antiquity’s most prevalent religious beliefs, and one which clearly survived into the
medieval and modern periods.

Human sacrifice in antiquity was not confined to hoary folktales about Abraham
and Isaac, or other such rites.2 Elements of the old customs survived in the cultures of
many peoples down into the heyday of the Greco-Roman period. In parts Of Afiica, it was
believed by some Greeks that children were sacrificed to Saturn/Cronus.3 Tertullian refers
to these same practices, noting that they continued unabated right up until the consulship
of a certain Tiberius. The date is hazy, but similar references in Plato and Augustine
indicate this was probably a hellenize‘d version of the Old Carthaginian human sacrifices.4
The Pontic Tauri and the Egyptian Busiris were reputed to immolate strangers.5 The
Gauls were thought to sacrifice human beings to Mercury, while the Romans themselves

were believed by later Christians to have buried Greeks alive in an attempt to soothe

 

2 Genesis XXII21-13.
3 Minucius Felix, Octavius, xxxa.
4 Plato, Minos, 315; Augustine, De Civitate Dei, vii.19.

5 ibid., XXX.4.

 

 

 

 

 

angry sods-6
ate every d:
details of H
too old to s
with some .
main cours
No less tol
custom of
captured C
time swall
overemph:
As for
heyday of

The most

\
6 ibic
sacrificed
elderly, 1
similar
Hinnisda
(Brussels

7
Tel

 

146

angry gods.6 Also, Tertullian recalls that Herodotus had written that some Scythian tribes
ate every dead man upon his death.7 Here, T ertullian is probably erroneously recalling
details of Herodotus’ reports on the Massagetai, in which he notes that when a man was
too old to support himself, his kin gathered around and sacrificed him to the gods, along
with some Of his cattle. A feast would be held, featuring the deceased man’s flesh as the
main course. Herodotus notes that peOple who died prematurely of disease were buried.8
No less tolerant an emperor than Claudius was still forced to oppose the Gallic Druids’
custom of human sacrifice, banning it.9 Even the Romans were reported to have buried
captured Greeks alive in an attempt to appease angry gods.lo If Latinophiles have a hard
time swallowing that story, it must be remembered that Roma’s warlike nature is hard to
overemphasize.

As for Greece, if Hellenic human sacrifice seems only a remote possibility by the
heyday of Greek civilization, there are elements of it which are early, but deep-rooted.

The most famous of these probably comes from Homer. As with the Romans, the context

 

6 tomorrow; cf. Tertullian, Apolgeticus, which similarly reports that the Gauls
sacrificed peOple to Mercury, though he specifies that these people were invariably the
elderly. Tert, Apolog., 1X45; for the relationship which exists between the markedly
similar texts Of Minucius Felix’s Octavius and Tertullian’s Apologeticus, see
Hinnisdaels, Georges L’Octavius de ‘Minucius Felix et L’Apologe’tique de Tertullien
(Brussels: Publications de l’Academie, 1922). ‘

7 Tert, Apolog., IX.4—5.
8 Herodotus, 1.216.

9 Pliny, NH,29.53-54.cf. Huzar, Eleanor G., "Claudius, the Erudite Emperor," in
Aufstet'g und Niedergang der Ra’mischen Welt, 32.1.II.,612-650,649.

‘° Min. Fel., Oct, XXX. 4.

 

 

 

for this brut
again and n
to escape hi
the intentio
The
home of s
Lycaon sa
angered Z
Lycaon. P
turned intc
he had a
Significan.
rites whic
NI
were kno
the mOSt

F eriae L.

 

 

 

 

147

for this brutality is war. Here, after Patroclus has been killed, Achilles arms himself once
again and races to the Scamander River, where the Trojans have fled in a futile attempt
to escape his wrath. Homer reports that Achilles took twelve Trojan warriors captive, with
the intention of sacrificing them at the fresh tomb Of Patroclus.ll
The famous story of Lycaon must also be noted. Lycaon was ruler of Arcadia,
home of some of western culture’s most ancient werewolf stories. The story is that
Lycaon sacrificed a child, who was irnmolated next to some animal parts. This act
angered Zeus, who turned him into a wolf. Thus were born the obscure rites of Zeus
Lycaon. Participants in the rituals ate the victims. Whoever ate of the human flesh was
turned into a wolf for nine years. He would regain human form at the end of this time—if

‘2 This gruesome story wields great

he had abstained from eating human meat.
significance, for it combines elements of Lycanthropy, cannibalism and bloody sacrificial
rites which were to become important themes in western folklore.

Not only men satiated themselves on the blood of humans. The gods themselves
were known to do the same. Again, Jupiter seems to have been the chief culprit. Among

the most compelling examples in this regard are the ancient festivals of Zeus Latiaris, the

F eriae Latinae. Here, a criminal was sacrificed to the "Latin Zeus." The origin Of these

 

1‘ Homer, [1., XXI. 26-33; cf. Wathelet, P, "Homére, Lykaon et le Rituel du Mont
Lycée," in Les Rites d’Initiation: Actes du Colloque de Liege et de Louvain-La-Neuve,
ed. by Julien Ries, (Louvain—La-Neuve: 1986) 285-297, 286.

‘2 This important tOpic is given much fuller treatment in the chapter on shape-
shifting which appears in this work. cf. Paus, VH. II. 3-7; Plato, Rep., 565; Burkert,
Walter, Homo Necans: The Anthropology of Ancient Greek Sacrificial Ritual and
Myth, (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1983), 84-93; cf. Cook, A.B., Zeus: A
Study in Ancient Religion, (1914).

 

 

 

 

games were
Strabo does
Aeneas and
that the Lat
the muse L'
a consul sc
apparently
that "Zeus,
sacrificial
finally, in:
that it wa
blood.”
Dc
lifc~u-an;
healing c
ultimately

IllCll' are

13 SH

14 .
Cl

16 u

Min. Fe]

17 M

 

 

148

games were interwoven with mythology, but there can be little doubt as to their antiquity.
Strabo does nOt mention their bloody aspects, but he does mention that after the death of
Aeneas and Anchises, Ascanius founded Alba on Mount Albanus, and that it was then
that the Latini offered their first sacrifice to Jupiter.l3 Cicero, in quoting the poem by
the muse Urania, Consulate, reports that these festivals were traditionally celebrated by
a consul soon after election, at the discretion of the new leader.” These festivals were
apparently quite bloody, a fact which prompted the denunciator Minucius Felix to prompt
that "Zeus, when Latin, is steeped in blood."15 Later, he does concede that at least the
sacrificial victim was a criminal condemned to death—an "evil and noxious man."16 And
finally, in another reference to the sometimes bloody rites of Ma Bellona, Minucius writes
that it was Jupiter Latiaris who instructed Bellona to tinge her sacrifices with human
blood.”

During the Hellenistic period, the idea that a life could substitute for a
life—transference—gained popularity, especially in the practices of the period’s various
healing cults. This hints at the final victory over death which the metamorphosis
ultimately promised. While such beliefs were not always specifically related to blood,

their are enough similarities to prevalent religion and folklore beliefs to warrant their

 

‘3 Strabo, Geo., 5.3.2.
1“ Cic., De Div., I.xi.l8.
‘5 "et cum Latiaris, crurore perfunditur." Min. Fel., Oct., XXIII. 6-7.

'6 "et quod Saturni filio dignus est, mali et noxii hominis sanguine saginatur."

Min. Fel. Oct., XXX. 4; cf. Tert., Apol., IX. 5.

1" Min., Fel., m. 5; cf. above, ftn. 15.

 

 

 

 

mention her
god Sarapis
pauper nam
pitcher of '
inStIuCted
Libyan, wl
For
But cures
did not all
horrific be
Tales of r‘
ill health-
While tra'
sister’s d
that her c'
The prec
Subseque
Aristides

3.1111 hea]

 

149

mention here. One such example comes from the record of a cure by the Graeco-Egyptian
god Sarapis, preserved on a papyrus dating from AD. 3. Here, an oracle has told a certain
pauper named Thrason to fast all night till 4 A.M., whereupon he was to drink a full-sized
pitcher Of unmixed wine. Subsequently, he was to fall back to sleep. Thrason did as
instructed. Upon awakening, his ”headache" was miraculously transferred to a nearby
Libyan, who collapsed on the 3pm.18
Fortunately for the innocent Libyan bystander, Thrason merely had a headache.
But cures involving the transfer of infirmity from a diseased individual to a healthy host
did not always feature such mild ailments. Sometimes such healing involved deadly and
horrific beliefs which echo malevolent sorcery. One example comes to us from the Sacred
Tales of Aelius Aristides, a second century AD. sophist who spent several years nursing
ill health—and a tendency to hypochondria—at the famous Asklepion in Pergamum.
While travelling through the Mysian Plain to Smyrna, he learns that Philumene, his foster
sister’s daughter, is dangerously ill. Later, he discovers that the girl has died, asserting
that her death has not taken place "without some divine agency (diver) Oatuofi nvOg)."‘9
The precise nature of this "divine agency" becomes all too clear in one Of Aristides’
subsequent dreams, when an oracle reports that the girl’s life had been traded for that of
Aristides.20 This, then, is a truly compelling image: Aristides as Dracula, sucking life

and health from the vitality Of the young. More dismaying is the fact that Aristides, one

 

‘8 Greek Literary Papyri, ed. by D.L. Page, (Cambridge: Harvard University press,
1941), 95'96.

‘9 Ael. Arist., Sacr., Dis., LI. 18-19.

2° ibid., Ll. 23-24.

 

 

 

 

 

of the secor.
Asklepios, T
believed the
the girl’s 1i
smallpox ej
ailments. F

from a lon

B
Roman tr.
attitudes
Culture p
beliefs w
Character
dishonor
this cust
was 30rr

Ottt som

21 .
ll

 

 

150

of the second century’s most religious men, and perhaps our best source for the cult of
Asklepios, had no remorse about harboring such thoughts and beliefs. He apparently
believed that his supreme devotion to the gods entitled him to superior treatment, and that
the girl’s life had been a gift to him. Indeed, after the girl’s brother also died during a
smallpox epidemic, Aristides again viewed the death as a kind of supplication for his Own
ailments. Finally, he took this transference to its logical extreme, reporting that his relief

from a long-running fever coincided with the boy’s death.21

BLOOD AND LIFE

Blood was often synonymous with life, the final and greatest gift which Greco-
Roman metamorphosis Offered mortals. This was readily evidenced by scores of cultural
attitudes and beliefs regarding life and blood which appear in both Roman and Greek
culture proper. These took the forms Of both metaphorical religious symbols, and literal
beliefs which were manifested in practice. Blood could be linked with a person’s essential
character. For example, Aulus Gellius related that when a soldier of Rome had somehow
dishonored himself, his vein was Opened and blood was let to spill. Gellius implies that
this custom was based on an old belief that linked blood and spirituality. If a man’s spirit
was somehow unclean or unworthy, the problem could be remedied to an extent by letting

out some Of his unclean or unworthy blood.22 The notion is remarkably similar to beliefs

 

2‘ ibid., L. 20.

22 Aulus, Gellius, Noctes Atticae, X.8.

 

 

 

 

 

 

about impu
continued u
l-le erte t'
Struck with
by a heavy
again, we
blood—wi
his dream:
his forehe
0t
abilities t
practice a
Indian tri
the Catil
mentione
fertility.
the Cam

Subsequ

151

about impure blood which were translated into European medical practice, and which
continued until the nineteenth century. Lucian reported a similar belief among the Greeks.
He wrote that during the reign of King Lysimachus, the Thracian folk Of Abdera were
struck with an epidemic. On the seventh day of the plague however, the fever was broken
by a heavy flow of blood from the invalid’s nose, as well as profuse sweating.” Here
again, we see some evidence of a belief that links bleeding—letting out the impure
blood—with healing. Similarly, while AriStides was visualizing himself being healed in
his dreams, he imagined that Asklepios visited him and drew sixty pints (I) of blood from
his forehead.“

Other examples show equally the ancients’ belief in blood’s special properties-—its
abilities to transform and give life. Lucian wrote of the Toxaris, or blood friendship, a
practice apparently not unlike the blood brOtherhOOd enjoyed by southwestern American
Indian tribes like the Apache.” Another case, the scene described in Sallust, in which
the Catilinarian conspirators sealed their traitorous vows by drinking blood, must be
mentioned.“ Other beliefs in blood were more overtly centered on potency, virility and
fertility. Hence, Ovid’s F asti reports that every October 15th a chariot race was held on
the Campus Martins, and that the right horse Of the winning team was slaughtered

Subsequently, the blood was mixed with a strange brew, including sulphur, straw, and the

 

23 Lucian, How to Write History, 1.
2‘ Ael. Aris., Sac., Dis., XLVIII. 47-48.
2‘ Lucian, Toxaris, 37.

2‘ Sallust, Cat., 22.

 

 

 

ashes of ere
distributed
ancient beli
story regart
a big, snap
Gaul’s net
around hi-
Torquatus
demonstra
pass on tl
of Virtual]
the belie:
possessor
to view ‘
TC
(WeStpo:
as A'

29 SI

3° B

3

Here: i
friends
huhting

ghost c

treache:
him th:

 

 

152

ashes of cremated unborn cow fetuses. Then, on April 21st, day of the Palilia, the Vestals
distributed the mixture as a fertility enhancer. This custom, too, no doubt reflects some
ancient belief in the life- giving powers of blood.27 Also from Gellius we read the famous
story regarding the Tarquatus gens. Here, the Roman soldier Titus Manlius had just killed
a big, strapping Gaul soldier in combat. In the heat of his great victory, he clutched the
Gaul’s necklace, still gruesome with combat gore, and placed its still bloody jewels
around his own neck?“8 Suetonius tells us that the necklace was preserved by the
Torquatus gens down to the reign of Caligula29 Burriss argues that this incident
demonstrates the ancient Roman belief that the blood of a worthy conquered foe would
pass on the valor of its owner to the victor.30 This belief, of course, lies at the very heart
of virtually any society which has incorporated cannibalism into its military culture. TOO,
the belief that personal possessions conferred their former owner’s powers upon the
possessor may be demonstrated here. This notion complements a still prevalent tendency

to view blood as a literal and figurative manifestation of vengeance.31 Burriss may be

 

27 Ovid, Fasti, IV. 721-862;cf. Burriss, Eli Edward, Taboo, Magic, Spirits,
(Westport, Conn: Greenwood press Publishers, 1972),36-37.

2” Aulus Gellius, Noctes Atticae.IX.l3.6-19.
29 Suetonius, Caligula, XXXVI
3° Buniss, Taboo, Magic, Spirits, 28-29.

3’ Consider the story Of Charite, as related by Apuleius in his Metamorphoses.
Here, she chose Tlepolemus over Thrasyllus, after a long courtship battle. Feigning
friendship with Tlepolemus, Thrasyllus slew Charite’s husband while the two were
hunting, subsequently turning his amorous attentions to the young widow. But the
ghost of Tlepolemus appears to his wife in a dream, and tells her of Thrasyllus’
treachery. Charite then vows vengeance. After poking out Thrasyllus’ eyes, she tells
him that her husband’s death has been avenged "by your blood (tuo cruore)." Apul.,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

superstitior
Sor
powers co
Mater, wh
term had '
Tauroboli
come fret
reports th
A platfor
hull was
platform
down or

Cntllusia

Met., V
32 .

Termin,
33

(Cthag

153

making a bit much Of this story; however, since Titus’ actions can merely be construed
as manifesting the simple feelings that any warrior would have had upon defeating a
powerful enemy, and the necklace may have been merely a momento of the struggle. The
superstitious angle need not be overplayed Still, the point is worth making.

Some of the most gruesomely explicit examples of beliefs in blood’s transforming
powers come from the cult practice of the Taurobolium, usually linked with the Magna
Mater, which came to Rome from Asia Minor.32 Franz Cumont argued that the original
term had been Tauropolion, which through normally sloppy popular articulation became
Taurobolium.” By far the most famous ancient testimony regarding these bizarre rites
come from Prudentius, who witnessed a Taurobolium during the fourth century AD. He
reports that a trench was dug, and that the high priest (summus sacerdos) stood inside it.
A platform cloned with large perforations was placed Over his head. Subsequently, a large
bull was led in, bedecked with garlands. After the bull was placed on the perforated
platform above the priest, its breast was pierced with a spear, and the hot blood gushed
down on the devotee. Prudentius reports that this gruesome shower was greeted with

enthusiasm by the priest, who even Opened his mouth to drink some of the warm

 

Met., VII]. 12.

32 Livy, XXV, I; cf. Duthoy, Robert, The Taurobolium: Its Evolution and
Terminology, (Leiden: as. Brill, 1969).

3’ Cumont, Franz, The Mysteries of Mithra, trans. by Thomas J. McCormack
(Chicago: The Open Court Publishing Co., 1910), 180-81.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

blood" It
of the slair
Sor

some seets
threw thei
of Lucius
mutilatior

by Phileb

behalf of

adherents

put her c

3‘ P
Roman .

35 (
describe
tauroboi
ceremm
comma
ellphem
(3331171111

Pr0babl
Mystén

361
”i

one of

 

154
blood.34 It was believed by the cult’s adherents that bathing in and drinking the blood

of the slain bull made the practitioners strong.”

Sometimes beliefs in blood were accompanied by self-mutilation. The votaries of
some sects, especially Cybele, and even the Syrian Atargatis, circumcised themselves, and
threw their amputated sexual organs into the nearby rivers.“ Equally telling, in the story
of Lucius the ass, both as related by Apuleius, and pseudo-Lucian, we read of other self-
mutilation practices. Here, Lucius the ass has been sold in an auction, finally purchased
by Philebus, an old devotee of Atargatis whose duty it was to travel, begging alms on
behalf of the goddess. He took ass-Lucius home, where there was a retinue of female
adherents who plied the same trade as Philebus. They would dress up the "goddess" and

put her on Lucius’ back.37 The goddess was apparently linked in some way with blood,

 

34 Prudentius, Peristeph., 1006-1050; of. Ferguson, John, The Religions of the
Roman Empire, (Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press, 1982), 104-105.

35 Cumont, The Mysteries of Mithra, 180-81; Loisy argues that this scene
described by Prudentius is not just a standard Taurobolium, but ". . . c’est le grand
taurobole céle’bré 1e 24 mars par l’archigalle (Archigallus=high priest of Cybele),
ceremonie publique . . . dont l’apparat ne convient nullement aux taurobloes
communs." Loisy notes that the passage subsequent in Prudentius describes what he
euphemistically labels "la mutilation des galles," because the Taurobolium and the
castration of the priests were on subsequent days. Hence, the famous ceremony was
probably not an everyday occurrence. Loisy, Alfred, Les Mystéres Paiens et Le

Mystére Chre’tz'en, (Paris: 1914),118-19.
3“ Lucian, De Dea Syria, 47-49.

37 Here one wonders whether some statue of the goddess is being used, or whether
one of the girls herself dressed up as the deity.

 

 

 

for at some
to Atargati

Th:
of which i1
passion in
during the
brought t:
mysteriou
for the Pi
and the

sacrifice

especial]
(Beitragi
he argue
by his j
Journal
de Cali;
finally,

41 S

42 (
Phoent
1972);

Vote! .
1969).

 

 

 

155

for at some towns her worshippers would cut themselves, spilling their blood in sacrifice
to Atargatis.38

The emperor Caligula also was reputed to have had bizarre religious tastes, some
of which involved the use of blood rites. Many of these ostensibly derive from Caligula’s
passion for oriental mysticism and the new religions which were flooding into the Empire
during the first century AD.39 Seneca notes that different sorts of sacrifices were daily
brought to Caligula.4o In his Lexicon, Suidas comments on Caligula’s fascination with
mysterious ceremonies.41 Koberlein asserts that this ritual combined with a fascination
for the Phoenix bird, whose appearance was reported in Egypt upon the death of Tiberius
and the ascension of Caligula to the role of emperor.42 Suetonius reports that the

sacrifice of various birds was a characteristic feature of the new regime. More, he asserts

 

3“ Lucian, Met., 1.37; Apul., Met., VII. 12-13.

39 The most important work arguing for Caligula’s fascination with oriental,
especially Egptian, religion is: Koberlein, E., Caligula and die cigyptishcne Kulte,
(Beitrage zur Klassichen Philologie, Heft 3, Meisenheim an Glan, 1962), 12-13. Here
he argues, among other things, that Caligula’s love of Drusilla, his sister, was inspired
by his penchant for Ptolemaic incest. cf. Gavin Townend’s review of Koberlein in
Journal of Roman Studies, 54, (1964), 203; cf. also, Cumont, Franz, "La Salle Isiaque
de Caligula au Palatin" in Revue de l’Historie des Religions, 114 (1936), 127-129;
finally, cf. Suet., Cal., 15. 24; Cass. Dio, 59. 9. 2.

4° Sen., Tran., 14. 9.

4‘ Suid., Lex., 1.

42 Cass. Dio., 58. 27; Tac., Ann., VI. 28; cf. Brock, R. van den, The Myth of the
Phoenix according to Classical and Early Christian Traditions, (Leiden: EJ. Brill,
1972); Habaux, Leroy, Le Mythe des Phenix, (Paris, 1939); Schuster, Marialuise, Der
Vogel Phoenix in der antiken Literatur und der Dichtung des Laktanz, (Vienna: Werl,
1969).

 

 

 

 

that in som
Indeed, on!
from a fla
only reserr
scenes in
blood“
Es
blood wh
peOples.f
be at lea:
they are
Always
scomfull
of Marsj
was gar]
Similar j
intender

and see

 

 

156
that in some of these unorthodox rituals, Caligula would sprinkle himself with blood.’13

Indeed, one of Suetonius’ characteristic death omens, in the case of Caligula, is blood
from a flamingo splattering the Emperor.44 This sprinkling of oneself with blood not
only resembles more well-known rites such as the Taurobolium. It also recalls witchcraft
scenes from Apuleius’ Metamorphoses in which the hags sprinkle themselves with
blood.“

Even more explicit were specific Graeco-Roman beliefs in cannibalism or drinking
blood which rivaled anything which the "civilized" world scorned in the other barbarian
peoples. Some, though not all, of these examples come from hostile sources and can thus
be at least somewhat suspect. Nonetheless, at leasr some people believed the stories, so
they are highly significant in any analysis of popular culture. Others are no doubt true.
Always the notion that blood can give or revive life is readily apparent. Tertullian
scornfully discusses the blood rites practiced by the Ma Bellona (war goddess and sister
of Mars) cult. Here, it was reported the thigh of an initiate was cut, the resulting blood
was gathered in a shield, and then was drunk by the devotee.“5 Minucius Felix reports
similar pagan practices, probably referring to the same cult. Here, in a long discourse
intended to show the corruption of paganism, he derides men who drink their own blood,

and seek religious fulfillment through their own wounds. "What about him who makes

 

“3 Suet., Cal., 57.
4“ ibid., 57.
45 Apul., Met., 11.1; 11.7; 11.23.

45 Tertullian, Apologeticus, IX.10.

 

 

 

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157

libations with his own blood, or makes entreaties to the gods with his wounds," he
writes.47
Of course, supematural beliefs regarding the eating of certain foods were not so
unique in the ancient, or even modern world. Philostratus tells us that eating snake hearts
or livers could give the gift of prophecy, for example.48 In the cult of Asklepios, health
could be eaten.49 What seems odd, however, is that the Romans, for all their
SOphisticated pretensions, would apparently have extended such beliefs to the eating of
human flesh or the drinking of human blood.50 One of the oddest of such examples
surrounds the gladiatorial games of the imperial period. Celsus notes that certain
individuals were known to have drunk the blood from a gladiator’s slit throat as a cure

for epilepsy (comitialis morbus).5l It was also believed that the liver of a slain gladiator,

 

‘7 "Quid? qui sanguine suo libat et vulneribus suis supplicat. . . Minucius Felix,
Octavius, XXII.9.

‘8 Philostratus, VA., 1.xx.

49 Nock, Arthur Darby, "Gentile Christianity in its Hellenistic Background, in
Esaays on Religion and the Ancient World, ed. by 2. Stewart, 2 vols., 11., 72-76; cf.
Plato, Phad., 247.

5° Even more telling is the drinking of blood which the souls in the underworld
apparently had to endure in order to regain enough life to speak with the living.
Indeed, Ovid’s description of the city of the dead notes that "there were bloodless
shades, without body and bones." ". . . Errant exanguines sine corpore at ossibus
umbrae." The shades whom Homer depicts as addressing Odysseus in the Odyssey also
drink blood in order to address the Ithacan king. Both Tieresias, whom Odysseus had
venture into the underworld to meet, and the hero’s own mother were among those
who drank blood in order to speak to the Trojan War veteran. Ovid, M et., IV. 443;

Homer, 0d., XI. 90-234.

5‘ Comitialis means referring to the Comitia. Hence, Comitialis Morbus referred
to the disease whose symptoms could impede the functions of the Comitia. Celsus, De
Medicina 11123.7; cf. Pliny, NH.,XXVIII.4.10; Tertullian, Apol., IX.10; cf. Hippocrates

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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158

52 Other beliefs were attached to

if eaten nine times, was likewise a cure for epilepsy.
eating the human flesh of the games’ victims. Tertullian denounces those who dine on the
flesh of animals who had endured the gladiatorial contests—presumably having satiated
themselves on human flesh on more than one occasion. Here, he notes that the "stomachs

"53 The exact beliefs

of the bears themselves are desired, stuffed full of human guts.
which went into such alleged eating habits are largely lost. Nonetheless, one can well
assume that they involved the classic motivations of all cannibalism or blood-drinking:
that one might absorb the life-force and potency of the person of whom he partakes. For

all their gruesome overtones, these basic primal ideas were to survive antiquity and enter

into the medieval and modern eras.

BLOOD/LIFE IN MAGIC AND SORCERY

Beliefs regarding blood’s regenerative powers are also found abundantly in the
witchcraft and sorcery beliefs of the ancient occult. Here, one sees the death and
nocturnal imagery associated with images of the nightwitch, as well as the powerful and

complex feminine strand which ran through much of ancient paganism. The preserved

 

famous description and analysis of epilepsy, in Hippocrates, Peri [eras Nousous,
11.129.

52 Scribonius Largusi, Compositiones: Compositions de remédes, ecrites et
rassemblee’s au Ier Siecle, (Leipzig: Teubner, 1887), 17; cf. Majno, Guido, The
Healing Hand: Man and Wound in the Ancient World, (Cambridge, Mass: Harvard
University Press, 1975), 403.

53 "Ipsorum ursorum alvei appetuntur cruditantes adhuc de visceribus humanis . .
." Tert., Apol., IX.11.

 

 

 

 

 

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159

literary accounts of witches’ spells are replete with the use of blood. One of the best
examples comes from Ovid’s Metamorphoses, in the story which depicts Medea restoring
youth to the aging father of Jason, a truly great act of metamorphosis.S4 This was a favor
Jason sought from Medea after securing the Golden Fleece. Medea says that she can
indeed help, but only with the help of the "three-formed goddess (diva triformis
adiuvet)."55

The spell cast by Medea is full of occult imagery, much of which will be
startlingly familiar to modern readers. She went out to cast her spell during a time of the
full moon.56 Then, calling on three formed Hecate (Triceps Hecate) she asked that she
be given the power to perform what would be her greatest feat of sorcery—the restoration
of youth!57 A chariot came out of the sky, led by a team of dragons. This took her to
various fields, where she gathered herbs. Returning, she dug two trenches in the earth.
Slitting the throat of a black ram, she drenched the open ditches with blood, adding wine

and milk.“

 

5“ Ovid, Met., VII.160-350.
55 ibid., 181.

56 ibid., 181-183.

57 ibid., 194—214.

58 The digging of trenches into which wine, milk and blood are poured is noted as
an element of other folklore stories as well. More specifically, these pits thus prepared
were often depicted as gateways into Hell or Hades. When Odysseus seeks to visit the
underworld, he is instructed by Circe to seek out a certain branch of the River Styx,
where he digs a pit into which he pours the libations of milk, honey, wine and water.
Blood then is used to culminate the preparations of these magic rites, when the
Homeric hero sacrifices black ram and ewe. What the hero has done as Circe
instructed, the world of the dead just sort of materializes there on the ground. It does

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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To her pot of ingredients, she added more materials, many of which will again be
familiar to those who have even passing acquaintance with more modern European
notions of witchcraft and occultism. She added hoar frost, colleCted while the moon was
full. More, the wing and flesh of the screech owl was included. The screech owl, of
course, is the Strix, which was also the Latin word for witch.” The Strix was heavily
linked with Lamiae, Empusa, Mormo, and a range of orher characters possessing
nightwitch characteristics. Even more Startling, she used the guts (prosecta) of a werewolf
(ambiguus lupus), which, Ovid reports, were wont to change their fierce faces into human
ones.“"o

Having concocted this brew, Medea slit Aeson’s throat with her knife, and drained
his blood. She then filled his veins with her potion, whereupon Aeson became young
again. Here, the connection between blood and youth must be noted. It appears again in
the next episode of this meandering tale, when Pelias’ daughters seek out Medea’s powers
to make their aging father young again, as she had just done with Aeson. To impress the

daughters with her powers, she made an old ram young again.61 This was accomplished

 

not burst Open. This is very similar to the Lucian account of Menippus’ ritual which
also opens up the way to the underworld. Homer, 0d., X. 510-530, XI. 34-35; Lucian,
Men., 9-10.

5’ Oliphant, S.G., "The Story of the Strix," in Transactions of the American
Philological Association, 44 (1913), 133-49.

a)"

270.

. . inque virum soliti vultus mutate fen'nos ambigui prosecta lupi." ibid., 265-

6' ibid., VII. 298.

 

 

 

 

 

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161

by draining away the rarn’s tired old blood, and replacing it with younger stuff. After this
was done, the old ram turned into an infant.62

The spell loosely recalls the scene in Apuleius in which the hags collect Socrates’
blood in a bladder.63 Here, there are elements of classic vampire storytelling, though
classical notions of vampirism would not appear for several centuries. Nonetheless, the
bags in Apuleius do possess elements of this great folklore theme. One recalls the
nightwitch Meroe, and her companion Panthia. The story of Meroe is related by
Aristomenes, an acquaintance of The Golden Ass’ famous protagonist Lucius. While
travelling in Thessaly, Aristomenes met an old friend, Socrates, in the baths.64
Significantly, he already appeared to have been subject to some kind of attack which
sucked away some of his life force. He seemed so "meager and sallow" that Aristomenes
barely recognized him.“ Socrates related that he had visited a certain Meroe.

Immediately upon meeting Socrates, readers can sense that something was amiss.
Clearly the unfortunate young man had already had a devastating encounter with evil.
Such scenes, taking place in the early stages of a novel, are common in modern literature

of the horror genre. An attack’s symptoms appear in subtle ways, and astute readers get

 

62 ibid., V11. 320; Incidentally, Medea proved treacherous on this particular
occasion. She discretely put bogus herbs into the pot, and bid the girls to cut their
father’s throat. When they did, Pelias merely bled to death (334-335). The same story
is also told by Pausanias, albeit in much briefer fashion. After their father’s death,
Pelias’ daughters, he asserts, went to Arcadia Paus., V11. XI. 1-3.

63 Apuleius, Metamorphoses, ;lkj.

6" Thessaly was to ancient folklore what Transylvania was to modern folklore. It is
invariably described as the home of witchcraft and sorcery. ibid., 2. l.

6‘ ibid., 1. 6.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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162

a sense that something is definitely wrong, even before the negative forces in the book
are specified. Obviously, Meroe, who had still not yet appeared in the story at this point,
had drained energy from Socrates.

What happened next to Socrates was little less than a kind of vampire attack.
Angered that he Spoke ill of her, Meroe came for revenge that same night, while he was
sharing a room with Aristomenes, With her was her sister Panthia For some mysterious
reason, Socrates did not awaken, though the hags’ noisy entry fully roused, and terrified,
Aristomenes, Taking a sword, the Lamiae cut Socrates’ throat, collecting his blood in a
bladder. Subsequently, they cutout his heart and stopped up the wound in his neck with
a sponge. Apuleius noted that the blood may have been stored in the bladder for use in
some sacrificial rite."6

Apuleius makes no specific reference to the purpose for which Meroe and
Pamphile gathered the youth’s blood, other than speculation about the possibility of
religious or magic rituals. But the link between aged witches and the blood of a youth
seems clearly to have had a rejuvenative nature. At least, other stories passed down
involving witches and the use of blood often involved the regeneration of youth, potency
and even life itself. In this regard, blood was often seen as a powerful fluid, possessing
many magical properties. In some cases it could open the gateway to hell itself. Lucian,
for example, related that in an attempt to journey to the underworld, Menippus was led
by Mithrobarzanes to a remote region, where a pit was dug. Then calling on Hecate and

Persephoneia, he slaughtered some sheep and sprinkled their blood around the trench. The

 

6° ibid., 1. 9.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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preferret

163

ceremony achieved the desired results, and the ground was ripped asunder, opening the
way to the land of dead souls.‘57

Given that blood was sometimes given power over hell itself, its vital role in one
of ancient witchcraft’s greatest feats should nor surprise anyone."8 This feat involved the
reanimation of a corpse by the Thessalian witch Erichto. The story is recorded in Lucan’s
De Bella Civile, and features Pompey’s disappointing son, Sextus.”9 Here, on the eve of
Pharsalus, the great opposing armies of Caesar and Pompey have met in Thessaly.70
Sextus was curious about the future. Not being a good Roman, he spurned the traditional
Latin methods of augury such as reading entrails, or the use of omens.71 Instead, he

preferred to use sorcery—a particularly compelling thought for Sextus, since he was

 

67 Lucian, Men., 9-10.

‘8 Indeed, Lucan reports that Erictho was something of a blood-drinker/cannibal
herself. After noting that she inhabited the empty tomes after the ghosts had been
driven away, she was said to have gaurded corpses, and stolen pans of the dead flesh
from recently deceased. This report corroborates that of Apuleius’ Metamorphoses.
Here, Lucius remarks that noe eve the graves of the cemeteries are safe from these
nightwitch creatures, and that the witches would venture out among the graves to
gather bones and slices of flesh from the recently deceased. Again, this seems to hint
at not-so—subtle cannibalistic qualifies which many of the nocturnal sorceresses were
believed to possess. Too, Lucius notes that Thessalisn withces would bite off the flesh
of dead men’s faces and use it in thier magic spells. Such cannibalistic qualities are
reminiscent of Hecate. Theocritus asserted that Hecate was said to wander among the
tombs, and even to drink blood. Lucan, Bello Civile, VI. 510-570; Apul., Met., 2. 20-
21; Theoc., 2. 10—17.

‘9 Gordon, Richard, "Lucan’s Erictho" in Homo Viator: Classical Essays from
John Bramble, (Great Britain: Bristol Classical Press, l987),231-24l; cf. Rose, H.J.,
"The Witch Scene in Lucan" in Transactions of the American Philological Association,
44, (1913), l-lii.

7° Lucan, De Bella Civile, VI. 414-15.

'" ibid, v1. 425430.

 

 

 

 

 

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164

presently in Thessaly, where he knew the greatest witches of the world resided.
Subsequently he sought out the greatest witch, Erictho. Erictho resuscitated a dead man
who then predicted Pompey’s disaster at Pharsalus. Among other things, this was
accomplished by fresh blood (ferventi sanguine) being poured into fresh wounds (vulneres
nova) which had been created by Erictho on the spot. After this act, and many magical
incantations, the corpse came alive and told Sextus of his father’s impending defeat.
One other ancient link between blood, magic and metamorphosis must also be
mentioned here. It further involves elements of the nightwitch theme, blood and the moon.
Specifically, there are infrequent but consistent references to these sorceresses lowering
the moon from the sky. Again, Lucan’s description of the Thessalian witches in De Bello
Civile is useful. Here he reports that these femmesfatales could bring the stars down from
the sky, and that "the moon paled and glowed with a black and dirty fire."72 More, these
incidents are generally accompanied by descriptions of the moon’s changing color—it
almost always taking on a bloody tinge. This is only yet another example in the important
link between the moon and sorcery. In Seneca’s Medea, for example, Medea calls upon
the moon to aid her in her magic spells. Her invocation includes many bloody images.73
Ovid’s Artis Amitoriae, referring to the considerable powers that the ancients attributed
to sorcery, stated that witches could make the moon turn red, claiming, "I saw, believe

you me, the stars and the firmament steeped in blood; the face of the moon was purple

 

72 . . . Phoebeque serena . . . pallvit et nigris terrenisque ignibus arsit." Lucan, De

Bell., Civ., VI. 499-500.

73 Sen., Med., 770-796.

 

 

 

 

 

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165

with blood” Lunais posits that these reports may have been due to lunar eclipses. She
notes that Quintus Curius, in describing an eclipse, noted that "the waning moon hides
away the first gleam of her firmament, then it stains all light with the suffusing color of
blood.“

The moon’s turning blood red was also sometimes considered as the supernatural
indication of a great or terrible event—an emperor’s birth or death, great social change,
or some apocalyptic happening, for example. In the East, such stories had been around
for a while.76 The blood-red moon as a plague in Exodus is just the most famous
example. The New Testament’s Book of Acts has Luke quoting the Old Testament’s Joel,
saying "your young men shall see visions (dpétoag) and your old men will dream dreams
. . . the sun will be turned to darkness and the moon into blood.” Even today, the
moon’s turning red as blood is still an obscure but powerful theme in modern folklore.

Consider the song "Voodoo Child" by J irni Hendrix, in which he announces that on the

 

7" "Sanguine, siqua fides, stellantia sidera vidi; Purpureus Lunae sanguine vultus
erat." Ovid, Ars. Am., I. 8. 11-12.

75 . . . . . . . . . . .
". . . luna deficzens pnmum nrtorem sidens sur condzdzt, deznde sanguznzs colore

suffuso lumen omne foedauit." Quint. Cur., His., IV. 10. 2-7; of. Lunais, Sophie,
Recherches sur la Lune, (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1979), 221.

76 How much of this may be a result of oriental astrology’s influence on Graeco-
Roman culture is not clear. Heavenly portents foretelling great events were an
especially prevalent theme in Persian and Babylonian tales. Such stories were probably
behind the famous "Star of Bethlehem" which Matthew reports as greeting the birth of
the Christ child. Matthew’s gospel was designed to display Christ as a great "king,"
so a sign from the heavens declaring his death would have been in the classic tradition
of oriental biographies chronicling royal infancy and childhood narratives. Matt. 2: 3-
5.

77 . . o nlctog unraotpoupnoeton etc oxdtog Kort Tl GElfiVT] etc editor. . .
Acts 2: 20; Joel, 2:28-32.

 

 

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166

night he was born, the "moon turned a fiery red." Such references in popular music can
be categorized along with other surviving ideas, such as Willie Dixon’s "The Seventh
Son," as an indication that these ancient superstitious have a life of their own and can
survive for centuries. This is a powerful metaphor derived from the beliefs in astrology
and witchcraft commonly held by black slaves in the South. In ancient times, this was the
case, particularly in the great age of Roman imperialism, which was more suited to the
notion of semi-divine beings than the old Republic had been. In one instance, Suetonius
has Domitian predict that the moon "will turn red (luna se cruentaret)," as an indication

of his impending death."

SACRED MEALS AND BLOOD: MITI-IRAS AND CHRISTIANITY

As has been evidenced, beliefs regarding blood and life comprise an elemental
core of Graeco-Roman notions of metamorphosis. Blood could transform men and
women, giving them rejuvenation, strength, and even life itself. By later antiquity, these
ideas were represented in some of the most widespread cults of the great
hellenistic/Imperial period. Of these, two warrant especially careful consideration: Mithras,

and Christianity. First, Mithras.

 

7' Suet., Domit., xvr 1.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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167

 

Mithras was an ancient Indian deity who entered the Empire via Persia.79 He is
still a figure in the Hindu Pantheon, which prompted one historian to call him "the
world’s oldest living god. "8° His name was invoked in an ancient near-eastem treaty
between the Mittani of Upper-Mesopotamia and the I-Iittites.81 Ironically, his massive

popularity apparently bypassed Greece. Franz Cumont notes that Greek contains a number

 

of Theophorous (God—bearing) names from Egyptian or Phrygian gods—Serapion,
Metrodoros, Metrophilos, Isidore, for example—but that the Greeks never admitted the
gods of their ancient enemies to their inner-circle.82 Persia certainly qualified as an

ancient enemy of the Greeks. Thus Mithraism passed right from Asia to the Latinas

Mundus.

 

The cult had been brought back by Pompius Magnus during his eastern Acta.83
It was to gain tremendous popularity, especially during eras of the Antonines and

Severi.84 Predictably, the simple yet compelling ideas of Persian dualism proved as

 

79 A useful summary of Mithra’s link to ancient Indian religion can be found in
J .P. Mallory’s In Search of the Indo-Europeans, (London: Thanes and Hudson, 1989),

131-133.

8° Spiedel, Michael, Mithras-Orion: Greek Hero and Roman Army God, (Leiden:
E.J. Brill, 1980), 1.

8‘ ibid., l.

’2 Cumont, Franz, Les Religions Orientales dans la Paganisme Romaine, (Paris:
Librarie Orientaliaste Paul Geuthner, 1906), 138.

3’ Plutarch, V. Pompei, 24.

8" Cumont, Les Religions Orientales, 130; cf. Vermaseren’s remark that "W0
Romer waren ( und wo war das nicht seit l Jahrhundert!) dahin kam auch Mithras."
Verrnaseren, Martin J., "Mithras in der Romerzeit," in Die orientalischen Religionen

im Ro'merreich, (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1981), 96-120, 96.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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168

popular in Rome as they had in the orient.” They seemed to explain so many of
humanity’s perpetual problems, presented a clear delineation between good and evil, and
even managed to offer people some hope. Plutarch himself reported that he found these
ideas extremely attractive.86 Mithras has been called the single greatest rival ever
encountered by Christianity.87

Mithraic imagery abounds with metaphors for transformation and metamorphosis.
Many of these images are quite bloody. Mithras had a long and complicated myth, the
meaning of which is still hotly debated among scholars. He was reputed to have been
born in a cave. The great Persian god, Ahura-Mazda, was embodied in the guise of a
bull—that potent beast that figures so often in ancient religions. Mithras and the bull
struggled, beginning the fight which has been depicted on scores of Mithrea throughout

Roman EurOpe and Italy. The scene is a familiar one. Mithras sits astride the bull. His

 

85 Cumont, of course, saw all this as further evidence of the superiority of oriental
religion and culture over western counterparts. He reported, for example, that when the
Persian Sassanid Dynasty had replaced the Parthians, and began to reassert
conservative Persian cultural traditions, Rome felt compelled to imitate her. He also
noted that Diocletian’s court, with its eunuchs and complicated hierarchy, was an
imitation of the Sassanids’ court. Hence, Mithraism was only one of Persia’s many
influences on the Roman world. In fact, Cumont ominously asserts, "Jamais, pas meme
a l’e’poque des invasions musulmanes, l’Eur0pe ne sembla plus pres de devenir
asiatique qu’au moment on Dioclétien reconnaissait officiellement en Mithra 1e
protecteur de lEmpire reconstitué." Cumont, Franz, Les Religions Orientales, 131.

8" Plutarch, De Is. et 0s., 46.

87 There are some fairly stunning parallels. The birthday of Mithras, for example,
was celebrated during the Fastus of December 25. Also, Mithras was reputed to have
been born in a cave, and this scene is displayed in some ancient art as being
accompanied by shepherds. cf. Vermaseren, M.J., Mithras: The Secret God, trans. by
Therese and Vincent Megaw, (New York: Barnes and Noble, 1963), 75.

 

 

 

 

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left arm has grabbed the head of the bull, and is pulling it back. His right hand slits the

bull’s throat with a dagger.88 Blood gushes from the wound

Interpretations of this elemental myth seem infinite.89 What is relevant here is the
significance of the bull’s spilled blood Much of the theology which seems to be depicted
in the myth’s symbolism bespeaks a belief in the regenerative powers of blood, and the
powers of a sacrificed life. Where the bull’s blood fell, corn and other verdant life is
depicted growing. From the bull’s spinal-cord came wheat, and vineyards sprouted from
his blood.90 Clearly, the blood was seen as re-vitalizing life, even saving it.91 This

accounts for the telling inscription found at the famous Mithraeum at Santa Prisca, "You

 

3‘ Ferguson, The Religions of the Roman Empire, 47-48; cf. "Das Tbten des Stieres
ist also ein kosmisches Ereignis, ein Geschen, das sich auf Himmel und Erde, Glitter
und menschen, Ewigkeit und Zeit bezeiht. Das ganze Heiligtum ist auf die Steirtt'itung
als Mittelpunkt der Mithras-Legende
gerichtet. . . ."Vermaseren, "Mithras in der Romerzeit," 99.

‘9 Cumont argued that the Mithras story emanated from Indo-Iranian religion, and
gave it a long and convoluted interpretation. Hinnells, who calls Cumont "nearly a
primary source," argues that no Iranian text depicts Mithras slaying a bull, so there is
a real paucity of sources from Persia. Cumont, Franz, The Mysteries of Mithra, trans.
by Thomas J. McCormack (Chicago: The Open Court Publishing Co., 1910); Hinnells,
John, "Reflections on the Bull-Slaying Scene," in Mithraic Studies: Proceedings of the
First International Congress of Mithraic Studies, vol. 11., ed. by John Hinnells,
(London: Manchester University Press, 1975), 290-312.

9° Cumont, The Mysteries of Mithra, 136-37.

9’ "Infine, l’impreesa del dio taumCtono sembra esaltata come font di ’salvezza’
per l’uomo. . . ." Gaspamo, Giulia Sfamen, "Il mitraismo Nell’Arnbito Della
Fenomenologia misterica," in Mysteria Mithrae: Atti del S eminario Internazionale su
’La Specificita Storico—Religiosa dei Misteri di Mithra, con Particulare Refermento
alle Fonti Documentarie di Roma e Ostia (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1979), 327.

 

 

save us by
the bull’s tl
is depiCted
taken to m
a tradition
celebrating
mnmnh
ascribed tC
Th1
various ar
sweeping
went on It
Fir
the historj
and mad
Graeco-R

many mo

 

 

170

save us by shedding eternal blood."92 Many reliefs even depict a young dog, leaping at
the bull’s throat, eagerly lapping up the life-giving liquid.” More important, Helios-Sol
is depicted at many of the scenes, along with Selene, the moon goddess. This is largely
taken to mean that after the bull was killed, Mithras and Sol dined together.“ Hence,
a tradition something like the Christian Lord’s Supper emerged, with Mithraic devotees
celebrating this sacred meal, the way Christians observed communion. In fact, garbage
pits near Mithraea have frequently yielded animal remains to excavators, which are often
ascribed to the eating and drinking of blood and flesh.95

The Christian communion, or Lord’s Supper, is even more compelling. Here,
various ancient beliefs in blood’s transforming powers—from the most theologically
sweeping to the most mundane and vulgar—are distilled into a simple ceremony which
went on to become a major sacrament in one of the world’s greatest religious faiths.

First, the many comparisons with Mithraic cult meals must be noted, as well as
the historical tensions between the two cults, which often had markedly similar beliefs
and practices. Indeed, the power of this great religion was soon felt, even by the great
Graeco-Roman pagan cults, some of which were ostensibly in their prime. And while

many modern religious critics delight in pointing out the many pagan influences upon the

 

92 " Et nos servasti . . . sanguine fuso." Burkert, Walter, Ancient Mystery Cults,
(Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press, 1987), 112.

93 Campbell, Leroy, Mithraic Iconography and Ideology, (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1968),
12-13.

9" Verrnaseren, Mithras: the Secret God, 140.

95 ibid., 101-103.

 

 

 

Christian fai
was especia
Haereticoru
as well as 1
Such accus
the influent

Chr

rites were .

and cannil

most famc

Trajan. W

11 was [he

"eucharis
Iheir bre
have bee
0111 Me;

98 H
religlous
Pointed
Christin]
bloocL .
MyStel‘lt
YearbOC
35.

 

 

171

Christian faith, it must also be remembered that the influence was felt both ways. This
was especially true in the case of the Lord’s Supper. Tertullian’s De Praescriptione
Haereticorum accused the pagans, probably Mithraists, of copying the Christian Eucharist,
as well as beliefs in death and resurrection.” So did Justin Martyr’s Apologia Prima.SW
Such accusations are important, for they show the emerging power of Christianity, and
the influence which its powerful ideas exerted on the other cults.”

Christian cult meals were not without controversy themselves. Blood and bloody
rites were again at the center of the tension. The early Christians’ symbolic use of blood
and cannibalism imagery prompted some of antiquity’s goriest allegations. Probably the
most famous early pagan source referring to Christianity is Pliny the Younger’s letter to
Trajan. While it does not explicitly mention the charges of cannibalism, it does note that

it was the habit of Christians to meet at specific times, worship, then eat a meal. Pliny

 

9" Tert., De praes. haer., 40.

97 Just. Mart., Apol. Prim, 66. Kane argues that one cannot make too much of
"eucharistic Mithraism" based on this passage. He argues that the Mithraic meals, with
their bread and wine, bore only "superficial similarities" to Christianity. They may
have been supericial, but they were also blatant and obvious. Kane, JP, "The Mithraic
Cult Meal in its Greek and Roman Environment," in Mithraic Studies, 313-351.

98 Hugo Rahner notes this important and often unnoticed development in later
religious history. Here, he also recalls Cumont, whose Les Religions Orientales
pointed to the Taurobolium. The Taurobolium priests were apparently accusing
Christians of imitating the dies sanguinis (March 24), and the mysticism surrounding
blood. Cf. Cumont, Les Religions Orientales, ix; Rahner, Hugo, "The Christian
Mysteries and the Pagan Mysteries," in The Mysteries: Papers from the Eranos
Yearbooks, (New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1978), 337-401; cf. above, ftn.
35.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

makes no a
was eaten,
Mo
written aro
pagan Cae
for busine
to Ostia-
civitatem)
and kiss
conversat
Christian
C
reference
twist on -
Some of

Of their

172

makes no allusion to cannibalism, but he does point out that no food out of the ordinary
was eaten, so he probably was aware of the charges.99

More explicit information is given in Minucius Felix’s text Octavius, probably
written around AD. 200. Here, Minucius described how his friend Octavius converted the
pagan Caecilius to Christianity. Caecilius related to OCtavius that, when he was in Rome
for business, he met Octavius. After a few days spent getting re-acquainted, the two went
to OStia—which Octavius reported to be a "most pleasant city (amoenissimam
civitatem).'"°0 In Ostia, Caecilius saw a statue of the hellenistic-Egyptian deity Sarapis,
and kissed its hand.‘°‘ The overtly pagan aetion ultimately brought on a long
conversation between the two friends, which focused on the differences between
Christianity and paganism.

Caecilius’ arguments against Christianity provide some of the most specific ancient
references to the accusations launched at Christians. The debate is, indeed, an interesting
twist on things, for Caecilius views Christians as surreptitious, deviant and even occultish.
Some of the various charges include that the devotees of Christ worshipped the genitalia

of their clergy, and the head of an assm

 

9° Pliny, NH., 10.96.
’°° Min. Fel., Oct., 11. 3.
‘°‘ ibid., 11. 4.

“’2 ibid., IX. 3-4; Tacitus, Hist, V. 3. 4; Tert., Apol., 16. The charges that
Christians worshipped the head of an ass, as bizarre as they may seem, also turn up in
graffiti—most n0tably the famous drawing "Alexarnenos worships his God" which was
found on the Palatine Hill. Here, Alexamenos is mocked in a crude drawing which
shows him worshipping a man with the head of an ass, being crucified on a cross.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The
initiates c<
insn'ucted
nature of
congregat
brooct103 '
and Minu
of the p:
infanticid
by Whicl
often cru
less-than

I

own hor

103 '-

EPillhar
their m.
Gnosdc
(1967),

105

173

The bloody charges as described by Caecilius grow. He alleges that Christian
initiates confronted an infant which had been covered in dough. The initiate was then
instructed to strike what he believed to be merely bread, apparently not knowing the true
nature of the little bundle. Of course, the blows killed the infant. Thereupon the
congregation swooped down on the poor child like vampires, wantonly licking up his
blood.103 The same charge is also noted in Tertullian’s Apologeticus. Both Tertullian
and Minucius Felix launch a scathing counterattack, pointing out the abundant hypocrisy
of the pagan charges. In particular, Minucius Felix points to the Greek practice of
infanticide, made famous in the Oedipus stories. More, he harshly condemns the custom
by which women used podons to induce abortions.” Finally, he notes that in their
often cruelly pragmatic behavior regarding babies, pagans were only imitating their often
less-than-humane gods, notably Cronus/Saturn, who ate his own children.’°5

Tertullian is even more biting, accusing the pagan denunciators of feeding their
own horrific blood-lust with such stories:

Come. Plunge your sword into a guiltless infant, the enemy of no one, the

accused of nothing, the son of everyone, or, if that is the duty of another,
Stand thou beside the man dying before he lived, await thou the new soul

 

“’3 ". . . Huis, pro nefas, sitenter sanguinem lambunt

. . . Min. Fel., D(. 5; consider also the gnostic sect known as the Phibionites, whom
Epiphanius accuses of eating unborn fetuses which had been manually ripped from
their mother’s womb. Epiphanius, Panarion, 26. 4-5; Benko, Stephen, "The Libertine
Gnostic Sect of the Phibionites according to Epiphanius," in Vigiliae Christianae, 21
(1967), 103-19.

1°“ ibid., xxx. IL
"’5 ibid. xxx. 111.

 

flee
it w

Ter
in their div

condemne

Tertullian
have som
value. M
semi-sec
notably ?
accusatit
reaction
referenc
Bacchic

Concert

\
106

filium,
fugt‘ent
Vescen

107

108

 

 

 

 

174

fleeing, receive thou the raw blood, fill thou your bread with it, feast on
it wantonly.106

Tertullian also emphatically asserts that Christians did not even use animal blood
in their diets. Noting that Christians were "baited" by being offered blood sausage, he
condemned such stories as being the stuff of widespread prejudice and ignorance
regarding the early Church. Nor did they eat meat which had been strangled or died on
its own ("roadkill"), since they believed the blood therein to be unclean.107

But, of course, despite the sorts of vitriolic defenses launched by Christians like
Tertullian and Minucius Felix, the fact was that the Christians’ Lord Supper did indeed
have some rather bizarre overtones—some of which were overtly bloody, if taken at face
value. More, the Graeco-Roman world had a history of religious rites which were either
semi-secretive or slightly carnal. Such feasts were obviously a part of Greek religion,
notably in the Bacchanalia. Here, ironically, the meals raised some of the same sorts of
accusations which the eucharist meal would. The famous Livy account of Rome’s hostile
reaction to the arrival of the Dionysian cult in 186 B.C. does not include specific
references to blood or cannibalism, but it does, indeed, Show the Roman concern with the
Bacchic feasts. Specifically, the feasts were seen to have a licentiouS quality, which

concerned the Republican government enough to issue its famous Senatus Consultum.108

 

’06 "Veni, demerge ferrum in infantem nullius inimicum, nullius reum, omnium
filium, vel, si alterius oflicium est, tu modo adsiste morienti homini antequam vixit,
fugientem animam novam expecta, excipe rudem sanguinem, eo panem tuum satia,
vescere libenter." Trans. by author, Tert., Apol., VIII. 2-3.

”7 ibid., 1X. 4.

1°“ Livy, 39. 18.

 

 

D637
Bacchus rit
there were
Christian t
Minucius
Christians
circulated.
are wont
sexual im

1%
Chnsuan
proper Ct
Here aga
be overe
compkx

cahed._

Hence,
"Thyste
flesh c
relation
10 ince
Athena
Romwt

110

UniVer

 

 

 

 

175

DeSpite the lack of bloodiness evidenced in the charges Livy reports against the
Bacchus rites, many important comparisons can be made with the Christian meals. First,
there were allegations of sexual impropriety which were frequently launched against the
Christian believers, as they had been against other earlier cults coming into the Empire.
Minucius Felix and Tertullian had both indicated that there were charges against
Christians of orgiastic behavior, and even incest. In one story, which apparently
circulated, the Christians would tie a small dog to a lamp. When the dog moved, as dogs
are wont to do, it would tip over the lamp, leaving the room in darkness. From there,

sexual immorality of every sort was said to ensue.109

However bizarre such charges may sound to those familiar with modern orthodox
Christianity, the ancients obviously took them very seriously. Indeed, struggles over
proper conduct at the Christian meal are an important theme in primitive Christianity.
Here again, the close proximity which many such meals had with other pagan rites cannot
be overemphasized. In fact, the dining room featured prominently in many pagan temple

0

complexes.11 More telling is the Greek word by which these meals were

called—Seirwov. Asimov is generically translated "supper," or "banquet." Indeed, by the

 

’09 Tert., Apol., VII. 1; Min. Fel., Oct., IX. 5. These passages also allege incest.
Hence, Wilken describes the Christian feasts as envisioned by pagan critics as
"Thystean Banquets." Thystes was a Greek who seduced his brother’s wife and ate the
flesh of his own sons at a dinner. There were also references to incestuous
relationships between mother and son. In 1 Corinthians, Paul makes veiled references
to incest, saying he has not heard of such immorality, "even among the gentiles."
Athenagoras, Legatio, 3. 1; 31-32; 1 Cor., 5: 1; Wilken, Robert, The Christians as the
Romans Saw Them (New Haven, Conn, Yale University Press, 1984), 17.

11" Meeks, Wayne, The First Urban Christians, (ch Haven. Conn: Yale
University Press, 1983), 156-58.

 

 

 

time Paul
standardiz
not mean
associate
In Mark, ‘
for HCX'Ot
describe
the term
places 0:
word [01
that the
l
metarno:
infant cl
all-tool
Kun'akc

dmhker

111
112
113
114

115

176

time Paul wrote 1 Corinthians, the term for communion had been become somewhat
standardized as the "Keptoucov Seimov," the Lord’s Supper.111 However, Stains/0v does
not mean the meager sip of wine and wafer on the tongue which modem Christians
associate with communion. It is consistently linked with celebratory, even carnal, feasting.
In Mark, the word is used to describe no less a party than Herod’s infamous birthday bash
for Herodias, which cost John the Baptist his head“2 In Luke, the word is used to
describe a wealthy and hypocritical Pharisee lavishly entertaining guests.m Mark uses
the term again, when Christ warns against those who like to look respectable, and eat at
places of honor "in the banquets (Ev tot; 5drvorg)."“‘ Hence, when John uses the
word to describe the famous Last Supper (Christ "rose up from the feast"), we can assume
that the disciples were enjoying a hearty repast.”

The Lord’s Supper played an important role in emerging ChriStian views regarding
metamorphosis. But it was Still fraught with controversy, even within the ranks of the
infant church itself. Paul’s epistles to the early church at Corinth readily demonstrate the
all-too-literal fashion with which the Greek Christians were ready to celebrate the
Kuriakon Deipnon. The entire letter is famous for its admonishments concerning

drunkeness, sexual laxity and other forms of hedonism associated with pagan deipna.

 

m 1 Cor. 11:20; 11:25.

“2 Mark 6: 21.

“3 Luke 14: 12.

1“ Mark 12: 39.

"5 "E'yetpetou ex 100 Betrwofr." John 13: 4.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

More, the
first centur
probablyi
sacred to
"stumblin
meat offt
pracuce.
from Bitl
had witn
A
charges .
was alsc
These vi
utterly c
one of t

anus

COITupt

116
117

118

the C01

119

 

177

More, the controversy over meat offered to idols demonstrates the confusion which the
first century church had in differentiating between its new religion and the old cults. This
probably indicates that the first Christian deipna were scarcely distinguished from the old
sacred feasts of Greek religion. Paul’s famous advice that believers not become
"stumbling blocks (npdoxouuorf‘ indicates that at least some early Christians were eating
meat offered to pagan gods at their meals.“ Later Christians clearly avoided the
practice. Hence, one of the chief anti-Christian charges reported by Pliny in his letters
from Bithynia and Pontus was that the areas in which Christianity had gained popularity
had witnessed a serious decline in the market for sacrificial meats.117
And of course, the problems associated with the Kuriakon Deipnon also involved
charges of blood and cannibalism. Along with simple pagan disu'ust of Christians, this
was also due to the complex views regarding blood which the new faith manifested.
These views involved a kind of schizophrenia regarding the physical body. The flesh was
utterly corrupt, along with the physical kosmos in general.118 This, of course, comprises
one of the central tenets of the Christian faith. In this decadent physical world, sin was
a genetic trait, and the flesh (oapé) was ever carnal and doomed to die.119

Such inherent depravity was what the metamorphosis sought to heal. Man’s

corruption was inherited from Adam. But Christ had been the "Final Adam (éoxortog

 

“6 1 Cor. 8: 9; 10: 28.
“7 Pliny, Ep., 10. 96.

“8 1 Peter uses the word Kosmos in a particularly degrading way, equating it with
the corruption and vanity of the secular world. 1 Peter. 3: 3.

“9 Romans 3: 23; 6: 23.

 

. A5041)“
Messiah: 5
of the dea
which all
Christ, w:

at least. tl

It was 111

 

17.01

121
VEKpav
m .1

held sw
death. I
somethi
this is
resurrec
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123

Elaine
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the L(
rfimiss

 

 

178

'Afiatt)."‘2° Hence the great verse in Corinthians, forever immortalized in Handel’s
Messiah: Since by man (Adam) came death, by man (Christ) came also the resurrection
of the dead."121 Thus were posited two physical worlds, one, represented by Adam, in
which all nature was corrupt and doomed to eternal death;122 the other, represented by
Christ, was full of life, holiness and beauty.123 Christ brought a new physical order—or,
at least, the new spiritual order was described in the symbolism of metaphorical language
regarding the world and the flesh.

Blood was both a symbol of the old sin, and a giver of the new transformation.

It was linked with the corruption of the old order, as represented by the First Adam.124

 

12° I Cor. 15: 45.

I /
121 "érterfifi yap 51' avepamov Gavatog, Kort 51' avepamov avaotaotg
vexptbv." ibid., 15: 21-22.

122 "Man is incapable of redeeming himself from the world and the powers which
held sway in it. Of these powers, the most important are the flesh, sin, the law and
death. Man’s redemption...can only come from the divine world as an event. It is
something that must happen to man from the outside. Now Christian faith claims that
this is precisely what has happened in Jesus of Nazareth, in his death and
resurrection." Bultrnann, Rudolph, Primitive Christianity in its Contemporary Setting,
trans. by RH. Fuller, (New York: New American Library, 1956), 198.

123 The exact physical nature of Christ, the "Second Adam," was problematic.
Elaine Pagels points out that Paul implies that the first Adam had been a natural man,
while the Second Adam had been a "life-giving spirit." Such a conundrum was at the
very heart of the gnostic and orthodox conuoversies regarding Christ’s corporeal
nature. 1 Cor. 15: 45; cf. Pagels, Elaine, Adam, Eve and the Serpent, (New York:
Random House, 1988), 128.

17" Hebrews 9 shows Christ as the final sacrifice. He was able to enter the ’Holy
of Holies,’ the ’“A'yta 'ytmv,’ by his own blood being spilt and not that of Old
Testament sacrifices of goats and bulls. The writer of Hebrews noted that all Hebraic
covenants had been sealed in blood, including the first covenant between Moses and
the Lord. Finally, the author asserts that without the shedding of blood, there is no
remission (of sins). "Kort xwptc; aiuatexxuotag 01') ytve'tou dueorg." Hebrews 9:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

John talks
flesh, nor
order help
the cup tt
Wm:
the blood
deStined'
B
image of
Christ ha
was seer
was VlCV
with my
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Hence,

10.12,

125

(W5po

125
Matthg
begin

m
gnosti
SCrvic
l3. 2;

 

179
John talks of the authority of God’s name, "which is not of the blood, nor the will of the

flesh, nor of the will of man."125 The linking of blood and flesh with the old carnal
order helps explain much regarding the Christian communion supper. When Christ passed
the cup to his disciples, he announced that it represented the "new covenant (1’1 Kettvfi
81a9111cn)" which is "in my blood (8v IQ) aittom trou)."‘2‘ Hence, when initiates drank
the blood or ate the body of Christ, they were partaking in the new order—the one
destined to replace the old corrupt Koottog which had existed since Eden.127

Blood itself had undergone a metamorphosis of sorts. An essentially positive
image of blood was offered to the Christian devotees. After the regeneration offered by
Christ had worked its magic, their blood was again pure. Subsequently, the blood of saints
was seen in a highly positive light. In the new Christian world view, "redeemed" blood
was viewed as a precious, life-giving commodity. Christian blood remained super-charged
with superstition and religious symbolism. It was still the source of salvation and life. The
fascination with which it was viewed by religion and popular culture remained unabated.

Hence, the image of drinking blood, or somehow harnessing its powers, remained

 

10-12, 22; cf. Exodus 24: 8.

125 n

. . of mix £5 aittéttmv 01358 ex GeMttatog oapxbg 0088 ex Gdnuatog
otv5pog 6006 ex Gem“) Eyevvnenoav." John 1: 13.

’25 The wording of this passage in the synOptic gospels is very close. Mark and
Matthew even have virtually the same structure, both using the genitive absolute to
begin the passage. cf. Matt. 14: 22-26; Mark 26: 26-30; cf. John 13: 1-4.

127 The Gnostics worshipped the feminine side of God as Charis, or grace. The
gnostic teacher Marcus was reported to have conducted eucharistic communion
services in her honor, promising "grace" to all who drank of her blood. Iren., AH, I.
13. 2; cf. Pagels, Elaine, The Gnostic Gospels, (New York: Random House, 1984), 51.

 

 

 

powerful.
to be drir
H1

the old h:
witches 1
ancient t
drinking
from Ch
himself.

of Baby

saints, z

Christin

gathem

of Baby
devil, 1
Firmiq
develol

Christi

“that

180

powerful. Creatures or beings particularly hostile to Christianity were frequently depicted
to be drinking the blood of the saints. It was an ugly and powerful image.

Hence, the new church quickly developed horrific blood drinking figures to replace
the old hags like Medea or Pamphile. This is not to say that more pOpularized notions of
witches necessarily died. They certainly did n0t. But more mainstream evil beings in the
ancient Chrisrian "pantheon" showed how powerful and negative the notion of blood-
drinking beings could acrually be. Indeed, two of the most famous nefarious characters
from Christian mythology were said to drink blood: the Whore of Babylon and the Devil
himself. In John’s apocalyptic revelation on the isle of Patrnos, for example, the Whore
of Babylon is described as drinking (11290000007 = getting drunk) on the blood of the
saints, and on the blood of Christ’s martyrs.128 It is an important image—a veritable
Christian parallel to pagan accounts of nightwitches, who themselves were said to have
gathered and used blood for their various nefarious rites.

Other evil images of blood-drinkers also surfaced in early Christianity. The Whore
of Babylon’s malevolence was rivaled in its chilling effectiveness by early images of the
devil, who had been largely missing from Old Testament Judaism. By the time of
Firmicus Matemus, he was quite a popular object of hatred and loathing. Thus was
developed one of western civilization’s most famous archetypal literary figures: the

Christian Satan. In his De Errore Profanarwn Religionum, Matemus borrows from the

 

1" "Kat eifiov tnv yuvai 1.18900an be too atuatog 165v 6:7th Kat ex 100
atuatog raw uaptfipmv 'Inoofi." Rev. 17: 6.

 

 

 

book of l
Sauutisit
is seen as

the devil

r—40*<:t::.Cr-15=F;-L”_.v-<

Venenfi
efian;

Kartag
h0min1
homin.
Draco

 

181

129

book of Revelation to equate Satan with a dragon (Spotxtov). More, significantly,

Satan is included for condemnation along with all the pagan faiths and deities. The Devil
is seen as an agent of holocaust and damnation. And as had been the Whore of Babylon,
the devil is given the especially chilling characteristic of feasting on Christian blood:

You creep into the temples and you feast on the miserable blood of the

slain enemies, neither by your venoms is the gory slaughter lacking, nor

the semi-charred portion of cremated bodies: frequently you stain yourself

with the blood of human victims, and by the bloody gore of the Latiarian

T emple—and your furies are nurtured by the altar of Carthage and by the

blasphemous utterings of parched throats. Doing these things, you boast

that you benefit miserable humanity in order that you might destroy it by

your cruelty. . . . Oh miserable men! Flee! Flee, and abandon such a

contagion as quickly as you are able. It is a dragon which is worshipped.
It is not possible to hide.130

CONCLUSION

Beliefs in regenerative blood, so pervasive yet subtle, constituted a major pillar
of metamorphosis ideas which undergirded much later ancient religion. The various
notions regarding blood informing many ancient beliefs were profound metaphors about

life and death. Hence, these beliefs regarding blood can be seen as symptomatic of the

 

’29 Rev. 20.

13° "Serpis in templis et occisarum hostiarum misero pasceris sanguine, nee
venenis tuis cruor defuit nec semiustae crematorum corporum panes: humanarum te
etiam victimarum frequenter sanguine cruentasi er Latiaris templi cruore vel are
K artaginis rabies tua et siccarum faucium venena nutrita sunt. Tu haec faciens
hominibus te miseris prodesse inctas ut crudelitate tua perimas . . . F ugite, o miseri
homines, fugite, et contagionem istam quanta cumque potestis celeritate deserite.
Draco est qui colitur; latere non potest." Trans. by author, Fir., Mat, De Err. Prof.,
XXVI. 2.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

greateSt rel
profoundly
basic cont
regeneratic
of Christ 1t
nodon. Th
found one
human be
an idea It
Medea, E
altogether
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be seen h
PIECCpt; a
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religions
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included

131

(ChiCagc

 

182

greateSt religious issues. It was to these very issues which the metamorphosis finally and
profoundly responded. Christian views regarding blood entailed a synthesis of those two
basic concepts regarding blood noted at the outset of this chapter—sacrifice and
regeneration. Humans could be offered regeneration through sacrificed blood. The blood
of Christ was only the most famous, and perhaps most eloquent, expression of that simple
notion. The Lord’s Supper provided a microcosm of these beliefs. In a new guise was
found one of antiquity’s most ancient religious notions: that the qualities of a god or
human being could be captured or embodied in some sort of food and eaten.m It was
an idea remarkably similar to the beliefs in blood represented in the old stories about
Medea, Erictho, the Lamiae, or Apuleius’ old hags. Nor are the ideas of the eucharist
altogether different from those ideas of transference found in the other cults, like
Asklepios, Sarapis, or the petty superstitions of popular culture. A great continuity can
be seen here in an amorphous idea which was centuries ahead of science in its simple
precept; a subtle concept comprising one of the truly lasting legacies handed down from
ancient religion and popular culture: For the Blood is the Life. It was one of ancient
religions’ most compelling transformation metaphors. And its notions regarding
regeneration and renewal alluded to even more profound metamorphosis beliefs. These

included the great hope for god-like perfection and freedom from death.

 

‘31 Thomas discusses this phenomenon of "eating the god" in her discussion 0f the
Latinae F err'ae. Thomas, Ruth Edith, The Sacred Meal in the Older Roman Religion,
(Chicago, 111: University of Chicago Libraries, 1935), 3-4.

 

 

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Egypt,

 

CHAPTER 5

DEIFICATION AND THE RESURRECT ION

Many manifestations of metamorphosis have already been noted. The shape of human
beings could be changed, giving them the powers and attributes of animals. The
consciousness could be ecstatically transformed into a more divinely inspired
consciousness. The body’s physical infirmities and the personality’s foibles could be
touched by divine healing, and added significant elements of divinity. Blood could offer
rejuvenation and revivification. But the most developed form of metamorphosis combined
elements from all these. The whole of the human being could take on divine attributes,
becoming veritably god-like.

Early Greek religion had posited anthropomorphic (man-shaped) gods. Hellenistic
religion offered ’theomorphic’ (god-shaped) men. This was the final and most
sophisticated evolution of the metamorphosis; the belief that men and women could
become like gods or God. Forms of this new metamorphosis took on many shapes. Chief
among them were the elevation of the Emperors to divine status, and Hellenistic beliefs
in resurrection. Many different Hellenistic religions can serve as models, but two are

especially informative: the Egyptian cults which entered the West through Ptolemaic

Egypt, and Christianity.

183

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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184

The new reality of cosmpolitan empire provided an especially favorable context
for the new metamorphosis. Subtle but fundamental shifts in later antiquity’s occidental
culture had greatly challenged existing religious systems. The anthropomorphism of
classical religions was seriously challenged by the new faiths of the Hellenistic world, and
its accompanying syncretism. The petty, imperfect gods of the old panthea—larger than
life though they may have been—were now confronted by a plethora of new divinities
and beliefs which challenged the old order. In the Greece which emerged after the
Peloponnesian War, this was the famous "Failure of Nerve" about which Gilbert Murray
wrote. Rome too, experienced its "failure of nerve." As in the case of Greece, it was
precipitated by a series of crises in public life, and by the challenge of cosmopolitanism.

But if the Hellenistic era was eclectic, the trend was only exacerbated by the
Roman Empire’s arrival into Mediterranean affairs. The Empire’s dizzying conglomerate
of ethnicities exerted pressure on indigeneous religious life which has seldom since been
rivalled, until perhaps the present age. In Italy itself, the pressure had reached a boiling
point during the first century B.C. The final decades of the Republic were marked by
increased apathy toward the traditional faith. Franz Altheirn rightly notes, "towards the
close of the Republic, then, things had reached such a pitch that the attention of the age
was diverted not only from the principal figures of the Greek world of gods, but also

from the revered insdtutions of native Roman religion. The great Capitoline temple was

 

’ Altheim, Franz, A History of Roman Religion, trans. by H. Mattingly, (London:
1933), 331.

 

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185

burnt in 83 B.C., and was not fully restored for twenty—one years.2 Cicero described the
Roman mood at this time as indifferent. He noted that the old cults had become largely
irrelevant in practical affairs. The auspices were mere pawns in political struggles, and
the augural discipline was no longer favored with widespread reSpect.3 Similarly, Livy
frankly conceded that by the first century B.C., men no longer believed that gods could
disclose future events.4

More abstract metamorphosis beliefs emerged during this period of flux. The
spiritual crisis, confronting both Greece and, later, Rome, facilitated the introduction of
new cults, many of which involved unique ideas, as well as different gods. This
development was characterized by a plethora of inventive beliefs in transforming religious
powers, not the least of which was the Christian Resurrection. But it also appeared in
more subtle ways. One of these was the belief in Egyptian animism, which was
introduced into the Hellenistic and Imperial religious world-view. The old dog and jackal
headed Nile deities were largely mocked by the occidental world. Nonetheless, clear
elements of the old Egyptian thinking emerged into the world of later antiquity.
The S yncretism which characterized later religions was an example of metamorphosis in-
and-of itself. Part of this development emanated from the strain of cultural diversity. A

culture’s gods are archetypal figures personifying the values and beliefs of the society.

 

2 Nock, A.D., "Religious Development from the Close of the Republic to the Reign
of Nero," in Cambridge Ancient History, 10, 496.

3 Cic., de Div., I. 16. 29; Taylor, Lily Ross, "Manipulating the State Religion" Party
Politics in the Age of Caesar, (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1964), 76-97.

4 Livy, XLIII. 13. 1.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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186

CosmOpolitan ages, then, tend to pressure change upon the simple old divine
embodiments of the local and regional cults. Few eras in all history have been more
cosmopolitan than the Hellenistic and Imperial ages. Consequently, few periods have
offered more amorphous, less clearly defined divine persons.

Scores of deities—both new and old—were the beneficiaries of the new
syncretism. The Egyptian gods Sarapis and Isis are among the best examples. Both were
derived from ancient Egypt But by the Hellenistic and then Imperial periods, their central
ideas and iconographies were absorbed by the West, where they became centerpieces of
one of later paganism’s most pOpular religious sects. Indeed, part of their attraction—as
was the case with so many of the ancient near eastern cults which found their way into
Imperial religious life—was the flexibility which they offered to the Greeks and
Romans.5 Both had their origins in the ancient faiths of the Nile. Isis was an important
goddess from the old Pharonic faith. She was given hellenized features by the Greeks,
which made her more palatable to the new cultures of the era. The origins of Sarapis were
more complex, and directly related to shape-shifting, animism and syncretism. The

generally accepted theory asserts that Sarapis was a fusion of the god Osiris and the Apis

 

5 "Serapis offre a chacun l’aspect ou philosophique qu’il desire." Bonneau, Danielle,
La Crue du Nile: Divinité Egyptienne a travers mills ans d’historie (332 av. 641 a;. J .C.,
(Paris: Librarie C. Klinck Seick, 1964), 321; cf. "It (the Isiac faith) was, or at least it
became, a complex religion with a wealth of mythological, phiIOSOphical, and
eschatological elements which, though never systematized and brought into agreement,
yet offered to all classes of believers something which their religious aspirations craved."
LaPiana, G., "Foreign Groups in Rome during the First Centuries of the Empire," in
Harvard Theological Review, 20, (1927), 303.

 

 

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187

Bull." Upon the death of each Apis, the bull’s spirit was believed to merge into the more
generalized soul of Osiris. In conjunction with the dead bull’s venerated status, elaborate
funeral procedures were developed for the dead bulls, including the construction of
tombs.7 Eventually, workers building the tombs housing the mummified Apis bulls began
worshipping the dead beasts prOper. Consequently, a new collaboration between Osiris
and Apis was created, called Osiris-Apis. When the Macedonians came to rule Egypt in
the fourth century B.C., the term was bastardized to "Osarapis," and finally "Sarapis."8
Hence, Sarapis, one of antiquity’s greatest pagan deities, emanated partially from a bull.
Given the fact of Egyptian religion’s inherent beauty and usually SOphisticated theology,
this blending was one of the crudest and most elemental forms of metamorphosis which
survived into later antiquity.

This is not to say the transference of beliefs from East to West was an entirely
seamless or smooth process. Often traditional Egyptian religion was seen as strange and
even repulsive by the Greco-Romans. Egyptian animism—the veneration of animals, or
the placement of divinity into an animal shell—seemed to many in the Greco-Roman
world suspiciously close to animal worship. The role of animals in Western religion was
largely reserved for folklore. In a world where gods had evolved into human-like beings,

oriental animism sometimes seemed crude and primitive. Western culture was steeped in

 

6 For more information on the Apis bull, see DiocL Sic., 84, 85, 88, 96,

7 Diodorus also includes a rich account of the complex funeral rites which Egyptians
followed upon the death of their venerated animals. ibid., 1. 83. 5-9.

8 Wilcken, Urkenden der Ptolema'erzeit, 1, (Berlin: 1927), 19; Bevan, E.R., The House
of Ptolemy: A History of Egypt under the Ptolemaic Dynasty, (Chicago: Argonaut Press,
1927), 40-41.

 

 

 

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188

the glory and brilliance of Apollo, or the sensual and erotic heat of Aphrodite. To some
Greco-Romans, the idea of worshipping dog-headed Anubis must have seemed little less
than appalling. Still, ideas found in Egyptian religion figured heavily in Hellenistic
Egyptian faith and in the most abstract beliefs in shape-shifting which emanated from it.
Confronting Egyptian beliefs, the West could Hellenize the iconography surrounding
Osiris or Isis, giving it the Greco—Roman exterior of plastic art, and translating the rich
ancient myths into Greek and Latin. It could also Hellenize the animistic elements
embedded in oriental shape-shifting accounts.

Egyptian views regarding animals present a curious twist in metamorphosis beliefs.
In Hellenistic religions, men were sometimes turned into animals, and men were
sometimes turned into gods. In Egyptian animism, animals were sometimes turned into
gods. The Egyptians were very serious about the worship of animals. Diodorus Siculus
notes that anyone unfortunate enough to kill a cat in Egypt would pay with his life.9 The
Egyptians were so pious in this regard that they apparently even refused to eat sacred
animals during a particularly vicious famine (Mirth . . . meCottevcov).‘° One of the best
examples of this sacred animism concerned the ibis. The ibis figures heavily into Egyptin
animism. Diodorus noted, "The Egyptians excessively venerate certain of the animals, nor

only living, but also dead—animals such as cats and fishes and dogs, and the birds which

 

9 Diod., Sic., I. 83.

’0 ibid., 1. 84. l.

 

 

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189
they call ibises."ll Similarly, Herodotus asserted that anyone who killed an ibis or a
falcon, even unintentionally, had to die.12 Indeed, the ibis was a particularly irnportant
image in Egyptian religious symbolism. The sacred bird had been linked with other gods,
including Isis and Osiris.13 Moreover, ibises are depicted on two frescoes at
Herculaneum, walking in the scene of a holy shrine.”

Egyptian veneration of animals clearly offended more pious and/or traditional
Greeks and Romans, whose religion tended to glorify man. To them, this reverse
metamorphosis which posited divine animals seemed bizarre. Even in the imperial period,
when Egyptian religion had gained more widespread acceptance, sardonic Juvenal would
still write:

What won’t those mad Egyptians use for Gods? One district worships the

green crocodile, another ibises gorged full on snakes, and in another, apes

are still the style. . . . Here cats, there riverfish are thought divine, dogs

too! But our Diana gets no mention where eating leeks and onions are
made sin. How shrewd to make a shrine of one’s own garden.”

 

11 n

oeBovrou yap Ema raw Cdxov odyt’mrror Kae’brtepfloltr‘lv or) Cdrvra uovov,
and Kat talcumoavra, olov ailorbpoug Kort toug ixveouovorg xat xfivag, Err
S’tapoucorg Kort tag Kalouttevag trap’otmotg tBerg." Diod. Sic., 1. 83. 1.

’2 Herod., 2. 65,

13 In Egypt, probably more than four million of these birds were mummified and
interred in the N ecropolis north of Saqqarah. They were embalmed at the rate of about
10,000 annually. Smelik, K.A.D., "The Cult of Ibis," in Studies in Hellenistic Religion,
ed. by M.J. Vermaseren, (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1979), 225-243.

1" Tinh, Tran Tam, Le Culte des Divinities Orientales a Herculaneum, (Leiden: E.J.
Brill, 1971), cat. # 58, 59 (fig. 40,47)-

” Mazzaro’s translation seems to convey the biting wit and sarcasm of Juvenal with
special subtlety; Juv., Sat., XV, trans. by Jerome Mazzaro, (Ann Arbor: University of
Michigan Press, 1965); Cumont notes that "Parrni les vegetaux, l’oignon est
particulierement sacré. La raison suppose’ en est qu’il provoque le ’flatus ventris,’ c’est

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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190

The foreign nature of some Egyptian reliigion figured heavily in the struggle
between Antony and Octavian—a struggle which, in one aspect, can be described as a
battle pitting Roman xenOphobia against the emerging Empire’s nascent cosmOpolitanism.
Indeed, Antony’s reputed love affair with Hellenistic/Oriental culture was depicted by
Octavian as an almost Homeric struggle between gods and men. The deities of the East
were pitted against the deities of the West. On the eve of Actium, Octavian’s speech to
the army denounced Antony for having embraced Egypt’s customs and religions.16 Later,
in Virgil, Actium is depicted in almost apocalyptic proportions. Describing the buckle of
Aeneas, Virgil offers what is really a portrayal from Actium. In a corner of the scene, the
Nile awaits the return of conquered Antony. On one side are seen Augustus and the
traditional gods of the Roman hearth. On the other is Antony, followed by a swarm of
oriental deities. At his side is the dog—headed Anubis and various other alien beings.”

Sometimes the metamorphosis of animals into gods produced tawdry episodes.
Dog-god Anubis figures heavily in a salacious scandal which occured in Rome in AD.
19. This was the year of the persecution which Tiberius launched against both Egyptian

and Judaic religions.18 A military draft was used as a pretext for the ethnic cleansing

 

a dire l’expulsion des demons malfaisanta avales avec la nourriture." Cumont, Les
Religions Orientales, 74.

‘6 Cass. Dio, 50. 24-30.
‘7 Verg., Aen., VIII. 675-713.

’8 Smallwood, E. Mary, "Some Notes on the Jews under Tiberius," in Latomus, 15,
(1956), 314-315; Heidel, W.A., "Why were the Jews Banished from Italy in AD. 19," in
American Journal of Philology, 41, (1920), 28-47; Tac., Ann., 11 85. 5; Suet., _'_I‘_ib_., 36;
Cass., Dio, LVII. 18. 5a; Joseph., Ant [ud., XVIII. 65. 81-5; Philo, In flaccum, 1, Legatio
ad Gaium, 23-24.

 

 

 

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191

policies. Many Jews and Egyptians were exiled to Sardinina. The others were ordered to
leave Italy unless they renounced their faiths within a fixed period of time. Suetonius
asserted that Egyptians and Jews were banished from Rome and forced to burn their
religious garments. And while he specifically cited only Jews as being subject to the draft,
Suetonius did say that those of the same race or similar beliefs were expelled from the
city.19 It is not entirely clear whether or not Suetonius distinguished clearly between
Jews and Egyptians.

Unfortunately, neither Suetonius or Tacitus offered any kind of specific
explanation as to why these persecutions occured. Scholars have had to consider a set of
intriguing, though rather dubious accounts offered by Josephus.20 While the stories told
by Josephus are almost certainly apocryphal, they reveal the revulsion which most
Western society reserved for odd divine beings who were half-man and half-god. In one
of these narratives, the beauty of a Roman noblewoman named Paulina greatly fascinated
the knight Decius Mundus. Decius failed to seduce Paulina, despite offering her 200,000
Attic drachmas. Subsequently, he bribed a certain freedwoman named Ida with 50,000
drachma who, in turn, offered 25,000 drachmas to a temple priest The priest went to tell
Paulina that the Egyptian god, Anubis, desired her company for an evening at the temple.
Paulina’s husband, Satumis, granted permission. Decius, disguised as Anubis, met Paulina
at the Iseum and obtained as a god that which eluded him as a mortal. Afterwards, his

pride inflated by the experience, Decius revealed his true idenitity to Paulina, who told

 

’9 Suet., T ib., 36.

2° Joseph., Ant. Jud, XVIII. 65-80.

 

 

 

 

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192

her husband Saturnia. When word of the scandal reached Tiberius, the temple was
demolished, the cult statue thrown into the Tiber, and the priests involved were
crucified.21 Curiously, Decius was merely banished.22 It has also been argued that

Tiberius was trying to prevent oriental style prostitution from coming into Rome.23

 

2’ ". . . ce fait rapporté par Flavius Josephus est partiellement confirmé par la

decouverte dans le Tibre de six sistres, quatre pres du Ponte sisto et deux pres du Pont
unberto, c’est a dire sur la frange orientale du Champ de Mars." Malaise, Michel, Les
Conditions de Penetration et de Difiusion des Cultes Egyptiens en Italie, (Leiden: E.J.
Brill, 1972), 393; Bissing, F. von, "Sul tipo dei sistri trovati nel Tevere," in Bulletin de
la Societe d'Archeologie d’Alexandrie, 31 (1937), 211—224.

2" The story of Paulina and "Anubis" is placed alongside a similar anecdote, this one
involving the Jews. A Roman woman named Fulvia was swindled into offering gold and
purple to four Jewish men, believing her gifts would adorn the great temple in Jerusalem.
Instead the men kept the valuables. Fulvia told her husband—coincidentally named
Saturnis, as was Paulina’s husband in the accounts of the Egyptian cults. Again, news
of the misdeed reached Tiberius, who punished the entire Jewish community in Rome.
The reasons why Josephus took pains to distinguish between an incident involving Jews,
and an incident involving Egyptians, are enigmatic. Neither Tacitus or Suetonius does.
Unnik asserts that Josephus "was not after the telling of a juicy story, as is often thought,
but he wanted his readers to see the true reasons for what had happened and the
differences between the two cases." Sharon Kelley Heybob also concurs with this more
plausible explanation. Many Jews from the period were not the culturally and
theologically distinct individuals popular Christian images often portray. Jews and
Egyptians were often fully hellenized and blurred into the syncretistic blend of Hellenistic
and Imperial religion. More, Judaism had met with earlier Roman opposition, as had the
other incoming oriental religions. Valerius Maximus reports, for example, that the Jews
were banished from Rome in 139 B.C. for proselytizing their cult of Jupiter Sabazius. So
it is possible that Josephus wanted to distinguish between his own religion and the other
incoming oriental cults. Val. Max., 1.3.3.; Unnik, W.C., "Flavius Josephus and the
Mysteries," in Studies in Hellenistic Religions, ed. by M.J. Vermaseren, (Leiden: EJ.
Brill, 1979), 258; Heybob, Sharon Kelley, The Cult of Isis Among Women in the Graeco-
Roman World, (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1975), 118; Fellman, Rudolf, "Der Sabazios Kult," in
“Die orientalischen Religionen im Ro'merreich, ed. by M.J. Vermaseren, (Leiden: E.J. Brill,
1979), 316-340.

23 Heidel noted the similarities in the accounts of both Paulina and Fulvia as
evidencing this encroaching temple prostitution. He notes that Tacitus equates the Jews
and Egyptians so closely that they almost seem to be identical. Moreover, strict measures
were taken by the Senate to eliminate the apparent presence of prostitution among

 

 

 

 

 

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193

Regardless, the stories serve to display the level at which Rome was being confronted
with the emerging cosmOpolitanism of her Empire. Anubis, the dog-headed god, was a
part of this tension.

But despite such tensions, there was a kind of inevitability in the new syncretism,
which ultimately facilitated the evolution of metamorphosis beliefs. Traditional Roman
culture was doomed to fail in the struggle to avert dilution with the Hellenistic faiths. In
the same year that Tiberius launched his persecutions, Germanicus visited the ancient
lands of the Nile.” Here, he sought out the sacred Apis bull and observed a fast in
honor of the occasion.25 Given Germarlicus’ rank, the visit may well have had political

implications.26 Still, the oriental cults were now attracting the t0p levels of Roman

 

Equestrian women. Heidel says that Fulvia’s gifts to the four men were gold and purple.
In some oriental societies, gold and ptuple were woven into temple hangings by
prostitutes, e. g. in II Kings, where, among the reforms of King Josiah, was numbered that
"He broke down the tents of the sodomities, that were in the house of Jehovah, where the
women wove hangings for the Asherah." Smallwood more plausibly noted that by the
New Testament period, there was virtually no prostitution left in oriental
religions—especially in biblical societies. She argues that the fundamental reason for the
expulsion of AD. 19 was that the Jews were converting many Romans to Judaism, basing
her claims on a single reference from Cassius Dio, and a reference by Seneca to general
suspicion of foreign beliefs around this time. Still, general Roman xenophobia seems the
most realistic explanation for the persecutions of AD. 19. II Kings, 23: 7; Tac., Ann., II.
85; Cass. Dio, 57.. 18. 5a; Sen., Epist., 108. 22; Heidel, W.A., "Why were the Jews
banished from Italy in AD. 19," in American Journal of Philology, 41 (1920), 38—47;
Smallwood, "Some Notes on the Jews under Tiberius," 318.

2" Ootgeheirn, J ., "Germanicus en Egypte," in Les Etudes Classiques, 27, (1975), 241-
57.

25 Pliny, NH., VH. 185; Solin., XXXII. 19; Amm. Marc., XXII. 14.8.

2" "On ne peut s’empe’cher de songer que Germanicus par son voyage en Egypte
cherchait la sympathie des Egyptiens, laquelle aurait pu lui étre d’un grand secours dans
un lutte éventuelle contre Drusus, 1e fils de Tibere." Malaise, Michel, Les Conditions de
Penetration et de Difi‘usion des Cultes Egyptiens en Italie, (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1972), 394.

 

 

 

 

 

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194

leadership. Indeed, the son of Germanicus was to finally bring Egypt’s gods and notions
of Hellenistic monarchy into the Eternal City.

But the animism imported from Egypt was only the crudest example of
metamorphosis in Hellenistic and Imperial religion. The ancient idea that men could
become gods gained further credence, and features heavily in many of the new hybrid
sects. Ancient mythic heroes such as Hercules, Cadmus, Romulus, Aeneas had all
received forms of deification. The Hellenistic and Roman eras saw this old notion spread
and diffused into the new cults. Ultimately this took the form of belief in resurrection—an
idea which culminated in Christianity, but which found echoes in other faiths as well.

The other men that became gods had been, generally, mythic heroes from the
hoary ages of pre-history and folklore. For society to worship or venerate a near
contemporary was something quite new which Greece and Rome inherited from the East.
In fact, this accounts for the deification of two fundamentally different contemporaries:
Caesar and Christ They were light-years apart, bOth metaphorically and philosophically.
Caesar represented the culmination of everything for which the public man could strive;
power, fame and glory. Christ embodied pure human spirituality—the rejection of secular
careerism, and the baubles of human institutions. These men left powerful biographies for
the ages. Yet both were to transcend their niches as mere historical figures. They became
immense cultural icons—archetypal literary figures symbolizing two antithetical religions:
worldly glory, and simple human decency—the civitas hominis and the civitas dei. They

were, in effect, two sides of the same coin. Both became gods.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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195

Deification for Caesar and Christ was not an easy transformation. Worshipping
men as gods represented the greatest assertion of metamorphosis beliefs. The shift in
views regarding the fundamental humanity of all men and women did not come naturally
to the West. Indeed, the struggle between old and new thinking in this regard was seldom
more visibly marked than in the struggle over Emperor worship. Emperor worship was
an ancient and engrained custom in the East, with its millenia long history of pharaohs
and priest-kings. The kulturkampf in the West was manifested early in the struggle over
Emperor worship. Rome’s ostensibly republican institutions wrestled with the idea of the
Hellenistic monarchy, which proved to be pro-cursor to the Emperor, as well as the
Emperor’s cult. Consideration of the first major rulers of Rome to claim divinity reveals
much in this regard

The worship of kings and pharaohs, an ancient and established custom among
many eastern societies, had been adOpted by Alexander the Great, and became customary
among many Hellenistic rulers. This was particularly true in Egypt, where millennia of
worshipping the monarch had readied the indigeneous population to bow low before the
Ptolemies. Caesar, who campaigned triumphantly in Egypt, was the first Roman ruler to
toy with assuming godhood. In settling Egypt, he flirted with the notion of creating an
eastern style monarchy, perhaps one modeled after the Ptolemies. In the West, he was
clearly offered hints of divinity by the Senate. These honors came in response to Caesar’s

great triumphs at Thapsus and Munda.27

 

2’ Nock, Conversion, 56.

 

 

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196

After Thapsus, a chariot was set on the Capitol facing Jupiter. Alongside it was
a bronze statue of Caesar which seems to have had one foot resting on a glove.28 While
the significance of such symbolism is not certain, the implications of world rule and even
divinity seem evident. After Munda, Hellenistic influences were even more visible.
Receiving news of Caesar’s triumph, the Senate decreed that the morrow’s Parilia should
be celebrated simultaneously with the victory.29 In the processional launching the
Parilian games, an ivory figure of Caesar was to be carried, accompanied by other
gods.30 In later years, Caesar placed a gold image of the divine Cleopatra beside the
statue of Venus, his ancestoress, in a temple.’1 And after the Ides, the peOple originally
desired to bring Caesar’s corpse into the temple of Jupiter for burial.32

In the struggle between Antony and Octavian, the political implications of the
different religious systems became even more marked. For political propaganda, the
struggle between Rome’s two leading strongmen took on grandiose theological and

cultural aspects. Cleopatra’s influence upon Antony was crucial in this regard.33 Plutarch

 

28 Cass. Dio, 43. 14. 6.

29 The Parilia celebrated the gods and goddesses Pales, patrons of the flocks and
fields. A prayer to Pales is found in Ovid. By Cicero’s day the games were celebrated
as representing the foundation of Rome. Ovid, F asti, 4. 721; Cic., De Div., 2. 98; Varro,
Rust, III. 2.1.9. 1

3° Cass. Dio, 43.45. 2; Suet., Iuv., 76.1.
3‘ App., BCiv., 2. 148.

32 ibid., 2. 148; Suet., Juv., 88. Suetonius reports that after Caesar’s death, a comet
shot through the sky.

’3 Huzar, E. G., Mark Antony: A Biography, (London: Croom-Helm, 1978), 189-90.

 

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197

tells that Cleopatra, as the divine ruler, was associated with both Isis and Aphrodite.“
As her alliance with Antony developed, Cleopatra posed with him for various paintings
and statues. In Egypt, in 38 B.C., Antony declared himself Dionysus. Dio Cassius stated
that Antony was depicted as Dionysus or Osiris, and she as Isis or Selene.” In 34 B.C.,
after defeating the Armenians, Antony presented his spoils to Cleopatra, who sat on her
throne dressed as Isis.36 By traditional custom, he should have offered the fruits of his
conquest to the Capitoline Jupiter.37

The allure of transforming oneself into divine stature was great. Even Augustus,
who claimed to champion traditional Roman virtues, showed Hellenistic notions of a
semi-deistic monarchy. Immediate and overt creation of an imperial cult would have been
both politically unwise and incompatible with his conservative Roman posturing.
Nonetheless, Rome’s first emperor attempted to associate his position with the gods,
however cautiously. Here is found the basis for the deification of Rome’s Emperors which
would characterize later periods. In particular, Augustus honored Apollo. His great
triumph at Actium was achieved near the temple of Apollo. In commemoration of his

victory, he enlarged Apollo’s old sanctuary. He also founded the new city of Nicopolis

 

3“ Plut., Am, 54. 6.
35 Cass. Dio, 50. 5. 2-3; 25. 2-4.

3‘ ibid., 4940.3; cf. Plut., Ant., 50; cf. also, Huzar, E.G., "The Literary Efforts of
Mark Antony," in Aufsteig und Niedergang der ro‘mischen Welt, II. 30. 1., 1982, 654-57.

37 "There is ample evidence in all this that fundamental aspects of the Hellenistic god-
king were now being assumed by the Romans; ill a sense Antony is the last of the
Hellenistic monarchs." Fishwick, Duncan, The Imperial Cult in the Latin West: Studies
in the Ruler cult of the Western Provinces of the Roman Empire, (Leiden: E.J. Brill,
1987), 48.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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198

and began the quinquennial games.38 The Temple of Apollo was consecreated and
erected next door to Augustus’ own home?’9 Even earlier steps had aligned the
Principate with the immortals. After the Peace of Brundisium, he arrived at a banquet
dressed like Apollo."O

But despite the flirtatious of Caesar, Antony and Augustus with deification, it was
only with the reign of Caligula that the practice was introduced de jure. The Emperor was
born in A.D.12. Much of his youth was spent with his grandmother Antonia, the daughter
of Antony. Only at the age of nineteen did he go to live with his adoptive father,
Tiberius.41 Thus, the young Caligula was reared in an environment acquainted with the
Orient.42 Perhaps this led him to introduce many overtly eastern practices into Rome.
Uncertainty continues as to the extent Caligula was influenced by Egyptian beliefs. It
seems clear, however, that he was far more susceptible to eastern ideas than his two
predecessors. These more eastern flavored ideas included the ascent of men and women,
particularly royal ones, to the level of deities.

Caligula may have lost his sanity after a bout with illness in 37.43 Insanity may

have made Caligula eager for the heightened glory heaped upon oriental rulers. He

 

3" Suet., Aug, 18; Strabo, 7. 7. 6.

39 Cass. Dio, 53. l. 3.

4° Suet., Aug, 70; cf. also, Huzar, "The Literary Efforts of Antony," 656.
4’ Suet., Cal., 10.

‘2 Plut., Ant, 87.

‘3 Philo Legatio ad Gaium, 14. 22.

 

 

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quickly displayed inclinations toward Hellenistic monarchy. He began by declaring
Tiberius a god, but the Senate discouraged this initial act44 He next introduced the
oriental practice of prostration.“ Later, a band of Alexandrian Jews visiting Rome were
denounced by the Emperor for their peOple’s general reluctance to admit his divinity.46

After Caligula, Emperor worship became an increasingly accepted addition to
Roman religion. Caligula’s successor Claudius largely strove to revive the muted
conservatism of Augustus and Tiberius in regards to Emperor worship."7 He displayed

reluctance to accept divine status, although he did receive such accolades in Britain."8

 

"4 Sen., Apocol., 2.

‘5 Cass. Dio, 59. 27.

4" Philo, Leg; 353; One wonders to what extent these significant breaks with
Augustus and Tiberius were the results of specifically Egyptian sentiments. The evidence
seems to indicate that Caligula harboured a special fondness for the refined and exotic
Nile culture. Philo reports that he surrounded himself with many Egyptian servants. Pliny
notes that Gaius brought a beautiful obelisk from Egypt. Both Plutarch and the C.I.L.
state that it was Caligula who established the Isiac festival in Egypt Suetonius and Dio
report that one of Caligula’s first acts was to build a temple on the Palatine, probably the
Isiac Temple. For more complete studies of Caligula’s orientalism, Philo, Leg, 166; Pliny,
NH., 36. 64; C.I.L., I. 2., 333, and Plut., De Is. et 0s., 13; Suet., Cal., 22 and Cass. Dio,
59. 28. 2; Wissowa, G., Religion und Kultus der Romer, 2ed. ed., (Munich: 1912), 353;
cf. especially, Koberlein, Caligula und c’igyptiscen Kulte (previously noted); Cumont,
Franz, "La Salle Isiaque de Caligual au Palatin," in Revue de l’Historie des Religions, 114
1936), 127-129.

"7 "Augustus and Tiberius had used religion to enlarge their control of the state.
Caligula had misused it for self-glorification. Claudius could readily return to the
Augustan model. The temper of the times called both for conservative traditionalism in
Roman cults and oecumenical tolerance in accepting the foreign gods of the Empire. The
result was a blend in which conservatism was tempered by innovation." Huzar, Eleanor

G., "Claudius," 649.

43 Joseph, Bell. Jud, 7; Tac., Ann., 14. 31; Fishwick, The Imperial Cult, vol. 1., pt.
2. 195.

 

 

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Yet when he died, he was declared a god in Egypt.49 With Nero, religious practice was
more muted than it had been under Caligula, or than it would be under the Empire’s later
rulers. Still, oriental despotism, and the deification of leaders which accompanied it, re
emerged more prevalently than it had during the reign of Claudius. Nero himself exhibited
a healthy dose of skepticism regarding religious faith.50 Nonetheless, he largely

resurrected the purple trappings of oriental despotism which Caligula had so emulated,
and which had found relatively little echo during the reign of Claudius.51 The Emperor
was fairly charmed by the hymns offered him by a band of Alexandrians, and he sent to
Egypt for more singers.52 More important are images found in the Einsiedeln Eclogues.
Published in 1879 from a tenth century manuscript, a passage from these rare documents

repeats Vergil’s phrase while describing Nero: "Tuus iam regnat Apollo. (Your Apollo

 

"9 Poxy., 1021, as quoted in Lewis, Naphatalie, Life in Egypt under Roman Rule,
(Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1983), 89.

5° Suetonius emphasizes Nero’s doubt regarding virtually all religions. Nero did
favour the Syrian Atargatis. Still, he was capable of urinating on her statue, lest anyone
think him a zealot. Suet., Nero, 56; For Atargatis, cf. Luc., Syr D; Apul., Met., 89

5’ Much of oriental despotism which leaked into the Empire’s early decades seems
to have been derived from Egypt. Nero’s close circle of friends and family included
individuals well-acquainted with Egyptian ways. One of Nero’s teachers was Chaeremon
of Naucratis. Chaeremon’s work is no longer extant, but he is mentioned in Porphyry as
having been director of the library at Alexandria. More, Nero’s wife, Poppaea Sabina, had
family who worshipped Isis. In Pompean excavations, the home of her cousin Poppaea
Habitus was discoveredTram Tan Tinh reports that in its garden were beautiful Egyptian
religious symbols. Tacitus reports that when Sabina died, Nero did not burn her body in
traditional Roman fashion, but had her corpse spiced as was done in the Orient. Porph.,
Abst, 4. 6, in Eus., Praep. Evang, III. 4; Tac., Ann., XVI. 6. 2; Tinh, Tram Tan, Essai
sur le culte d’Isis a Pompéi, (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1964), 48-49; Colin, Jean, "Les Consuls
du César-Pharon Caligula et l’He’ritage de Germanicus," in Latomus, 13 (1954), 410.

5" Suet., Nero, 20.

 

 

 

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201

reigns at last)."53 Similarly, a skit on the death of Caligula depicts Phoebus comparing
Nero to the great Sun."1

The role of Emperor worship in introducing the idea that men could metarnorphose
into gods, however significant, had severe limitations. In theological terms, Emperor
worship was hardly egalitarian. The Roman Empire numbered roughly 100 million people.
If only the Emperor had access to divine status, that was hardly evidence of a democratic
trend in religion. Compared to most peOple, the Emperor was already a virtual god. The
same ideas, however—~that a human being could become god—also figured at the center
of several major Hellenistic faiths. Through them, the benefits of divine status were soon
to be offered to popular culture. This provided the most sophisticated extension of the
idea of metamorphosis and the most powerful, accounting for the immense transformation
in religion which comprises Hellenistic and/or Graeco-Roman religions. The notion that
commen men and women could enter into the realm of the spirit and eternity—that a kind
of deification was open to all who sought it—u'ansformed the nature of ancient religion.

This was a profound innovation in religion, and one which was a central characteristic of

 

53 The Einsiedeln Eclogues are sometimes attributed to Calpurnicus Siculus, though
this cannot be proven. The text is found in Poeti Latini Minores, ed. by E. Baehrens, 5
vols., 1879-83, iii; Eclogues, 4. 5. 87 ; Ferguson, The Religions of the Roman Empire, 46.

54 Sen., Apol., 4. 1. 5. 25; recall that in much Hellenistic philosophy, the sun was the
"sun king (Becoming filmy—the "heart of the world" (xapSror tor“) Koouou) which
bestowed all life. The little religious affinity which Nero displayed seems to have derived
from solar worship. Tacitus reports that when a conspiracy against Nero was discovered,
Sol was considered to have saved the Emperor. Tac., Ann., XV. 74; cf. Halsberghe,
Gaston, The Cult of Sol Invictus, (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1972), 35; Cumont, Mithras, 27.

 

 

 

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202

the Hellenistic age. Its most important and elemental manifestation was a liberation from
that most basic nemesis of human aSpiration, death.

The shifting from death to life was the greatest metamorphosis possible for a
human being to undergo. Resurrection from death was an important component in many
of the Hellenistic "mystery" religions. Death was a dominant sub-theme in many of the
new cults. Again, the religions emanating from Egypt are particularly instructive. Sarapis
himself had been born in an ancient Memphis tomb and was frequently associated with
death, the greatest mystery of all. This was a logical extension of his connections with
Osiris.55 Diodorus Siculus notes that Sarapis was equated with both Osiris and Pluto, the
Greek god of the underworld.“ Plutarch’s important De [side et Osiride refers to the

death aspect of Sarapis, and links the god with Pluto/Hades.57 Similarly, there were those

 

55 There was apparently some attempt to make Osiris the son of Zeus and an Egyptian
girl from Thebes. Cf. Diod. Sic., 0n Egypt, 25; "Serapis et Osiris furent ou identique des
l’origine ou identifes immediatement." Cumont, Les Religions Orientales, 70.

56 Apart from well-known myths regarding Hades, popular conceptions of the Greek
afterlife remain somewhat enigmatic. Cynical Lucian says that "the general herd (O
nolfig outlog)" took the old stories from such venerable sources as Homer an: Hesiod
quite literally, including belief in the afterlife—so belief in the traditional Greek afterlife
must have had at least some popularity in the Hellenistic world. Plutareh’s Sayings of
Spartan Woman seems to imply a kind of Valhalla for Spartan soldiers, and that deserters
went to hell. Too, there seems to have been the belief that soldiers dying in battle went
immediatly to the afterlife. At least, this is what Plutarch seems to indicate. He depicts
Leonidas addressing his troops just before Thermopylae, telling them to eat breakfast in
the expectation that they would be having dinner in paradise. This bears some contrast
to Christian eschatology, which often seems to depict a kind of waiting period, wherein
believers must await the final apocalypse described in Revelation before they receive their
"final rewards." Nonetheless, Christ did say to the thief on the cross, "this day
(Muepov) thou shalt be with me in paradise." Diod. Sic., 0n Egypt, 25; Lucian, 0n
Funerals, 2; cf. Plutarch, Sayings of Spartan Women, 1,13, 22; Xenephon, Spartan
Society, 1; Luke, 39-43.

57 Plut., De Is. et 05., 28.

 

 

 

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in Plutarch’s day who believed the word Sarapis literally meant "coffin of Apis.”8 A
worshipper of Sarapis was considered an omen of Alexander the Great’s death.59 His
Greek adherents often depicted Sarapis with wheatstalks and Cerebus (the afterlife and
fertility).60

The transformation entailed by death comprised a central feature in much Egyptian
religious ceremony. Apuleius, for example, describes rituals overtly centering on death.‘1
These were strange cermemonies of which we know but little. Such secret mysteries

undoubtedly added greatly to the shadowy, exotic allure of the eastern cults.62 After Isis

 

58 ibid., XXIX; Diodorus tells of an ancient link between Osiris and the Apis bull.
This focuses on the famous tale of Osiris’ dismemberment. According to this account, Isis
gathered up all the various pieces save her husband’s reproductive organ. She then
delivered one to each Egyptian district for burial. Individual priests were instructed to
choose a local animal to represent Osiris, and the Apis bull was selected as a more
universal embodiment of the god. Diod. Sic., 0n Egypt, 21-22; cf. Augustine, De civ. D,
XVIII. 5.

59 Plut., Alex, LXXVIII; Arr. Anab., VII. 26. Sarapis is now believed to have made
his appearance during the early years of Ptolemaic reign in Egypt. Hence, his appearance
in Persia during the campaigns of Alexander seems anachronistic. This account has led
some to believe that Sarapis was really the Babylonian deity "Shar-Apsi." More plausible
is the theory that the deity referred to in the narratives was some now unknown god
whom men of Plutarch’s or Arrian’s time would have equated with Sarapis. Stambaugh,
John, Sarapis under the Early Ptolemies, (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1972), 9-11; Cumont, Les
Religions Orientales, 70; Brenk, Frederick, In Mist Apparelled: Religious Themes in
Plutarch’s Moralia and Lives, (Leiden: Lugdini Batavorum, 1977), 198.

6° Hani, Jean, "Sarapis Dieu Solaire," in Revue des Etudes Grecques, I, 83 (1970), 52.

6‘ Apul., Met., XI. 23.

62 These mystery rites were quite secretive and exclusive. Lucian reports that while
the emblems of Dionysus were being paraded in the streets, one of the revelers walked
through the town, ordering the uninitiated to shut their doors so they could not see the
religious ceremony. In Petronius’ Satyricon, the protagonist Encolpius and his companion
are greeted at an inn by the maid of the innkeeper Quartilla. The servant girl tells the
young men that Quartilla was in her "secret chapel (cryptam)," where she was practicing

 

 

 

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204
restored human form to Lucius, he became a fervent devotee, undergoing some rite of
symbolic death. Lucius tells us that he entered the threshold beyond death, where he
encountered and worshipped many gods.63 The next day he emerged and was presented
to onlookers in brightly colored, exotic garb, decorated with flowers and various animals.
In his right hand was a "torch brimming with flames."M Most important, on his head he
wore an impressive headdress, implying the radiant sun.“ Like much Christian theology,
this death and resurrection was understood in terms of a re-birth, not unlike the language
employed by Christ in John 3. Indeed, Lucius at one point says that "I celebrated most
festively the ’sacred birth’ (natalem sacrorum)."66

This ritual symbolized some kind of death and resurrection—the final, culminating

act of metamorphosis. Apuleius had referred to an initiation ceremony "like a voluntary

 

her religious devotions. Apuleius, as usual, provides extremely pertinent information.
After Lucius was restored human shape, he underwent initiation into the mysteries of Isis.
Just before he took part in the secret ceremony in which he later claimed to have seen the
gods, Lucius/Apuleius reports that "Then, all the ’uninitiated’ were dismissed. Tunc
semotis procul profanis omnibus." The choice of words used by Apuleius to distinguish
between "initiates" and "uninitiates" is intriguing: "sacrati," and "profani." Another
especially important primary source for the mysteries is Plato’s Phaedrus. Cf. Lucian, de
Sacr., 14; cf. also, Petronius, Satyricon, 1. 16; cf. Apul., Met., XI. 23, 24.

63 "During midnight, I saw the sun flashing with bright light . . . nocte media vidi
solem candida coruscantem lumine." Continuing, Lucius/Apuleius notes, "I approached
the lower gods and the upper gods face to face and I adored them at close range . . . deos
inferos et deos superos accessi coram et adoravi de proximo." Apul., Met., XI. 23.

6“ "At manu dextra, gerebam flammis adultam facem." ibid., XL 24-
65 ibid., x1. 24.

6" "Exhinc festissimum celebravi natalem sacrorum." Birth imagery was a common
theme in death and resurrection theology. The most well-known manifestation of this
truth was in Christian theology, with its emphasis on being "re-born," and dying to self.
All these abstract concepts were embodied in the ceremony of Baptism. ibid., XI. 24.

 

 

 

 

 

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205

death (ad instar voluntariae mortis)."67 The ceremony itself is, in theory, not entirely
unlike the coffin rituals involved in modern masonic liturgy. The ritual described in
Metamorphoses draws on an Egyptian myth concerning the death and resurrection of
Osiris, related by Plutarch’s De Iside et Osiride.68 As a mortal Pharaoh, Osiris was
tricked by enemies into lying down in a coffin, whereupon the lid was suddenly sealed,
and the entire box thrown into the Nile. Isis ultimately retrieved her brother/husband, and
Osiris became a major god of both fertility and the afterlife. Plutarch asserts that one of
Osiris’ first acts was to bring cultivation to the barren land.69 Hence, one notes the
mythological links between funerary rites, fertility and resuscitation.7o Like a seed being

planted into the ground, the dead Osiris/Apis yielded life, in a new and glorified form.71

 

67 ibid., x1. 21.
68 Plut., De Is. et 0s., ll-15.

69 ibid., 13.

7" Also from Plutarch we team that a holy ceremony marked the flooding of the Nile.
In the holy rites, a jar of Nile water headed a procession honoring Osiris and fertility.
Moreover, at the "Pamylia" festival, a statue wielding a greatly exaggerated phallus was
carried. This iconography seems to have been related to the Osiris myth. Plut., De Is. et
0s., 36; Peuckert, Will-Erich, Geheimkulte, (New York: Georg Olms Verlag, 1984), 497.

7‘ This point is especially pertinent given the funeral culture of much of antiquity, and
especially Egypt. Many ancient Egyptian reliefs depict the ritual purification of a dead
person. Here, the minister never washes the person’s head nor feet, but pours water in
streams over the head of the corpse instead Similarly, Lucian reports that the Egyptians
salted corpses and set them at the table for dinner, noting as well that the common classes
were known to bathe corpses before a funeral. Cf. Wild, Robert, Water in the Cultic
Worship of [sis and Sarapis, (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1981), 145, ftn. 69; Lucian, 0n Funerals,
21, 12.

 

 

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206

The growth of a seed into a mature plant was an image of metamorphosis which
was readily absorbed by ancient religions. Sarapis was linked to fertility in even more
explicit fashion. In fact, he was associated with the biblical Joseph, for both Joseph and
Osiris were mythic givers of agriculture to Egypt, in ancient Egyptian and Hebrew
myth.72 This points to the common bond of fertility which the two figures shared.73
Moreover, the Jewish tribe of Joseph was associated with the bull, recalling both Apis and
the Biblical golden calf.74 Referring to this link, Tertullian, in AD. 197, wrote that "For
this Serapis was formerly called Joseph from the family of the Saints."75 Rufmus of
Aquileai (c. 345-401) linked Joseph and Sarapis, citing their common association with
grain.“ So too did Firmicus Matemus in his De Errore Profanarum Religionum, which

urged the eradication of paganism.77 Augustine’s De Civitate Dei describes the origins

 

72 Mussies, Gerard, "The Interpretation Judaica of Sarapis," in Studies in Hellensitic
Religions, ed. by M.J. Vermaseren, (Leiden, E.J. Brill, 1979), 189-214.

73 Consider Ceres, the Roman goddess of agriculture whose altar appears in
Metamorphoses during the Cupid and Psyche myth. After being scorned by Cupid, and
victimized by Venus, Psyche wandered the countryside. She finally saw a couch there,
with sheaves of corn, blades twisted into garlands, barley reeds, hooks, scythes, sickels,
and other havesting instruments strewn about the scene. The goddess Ceres appeared to
Psyche. Although moved by the maiden’s plight, she had made an ancient treaty of
friendship with Venus, and was unable to help Psyche. As well as revealing the
collegiality of the gods, the scene as described by Apuleius is a quaint and special
depicition of the lesser fertility religions which figured heavily in rural popular culture.
Apul., Met., VI. 23.

7‘ Deuteronomy, 33:17.
75 Tert., Apol., II. 8.
’6 Ruf., Aquil., Hist. Ecc., x1. 23.

77 Firm., Mat., De Errore Profanarum Religionum, l3.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

of Sarapis

Augusdne :

The
ancient gu'
bonding 01
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Egyptian
amnfi

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from \
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Apule

 

 

 

 

 

207

of Sarapis just subsequent to an account regarding Joseph.78 This may have been

Augustine’s attempt to differentiate between the commonly linked Sarapis and Joseph.79

The metamorphosis from death to resurrection was frequently understood in the
ancient guise of solar religion. This was eSpecially true with Egyptian faith. Indeed, the
bonding of the Hellenistic/Egyptian religion with death was closely paralleled with its link
to the sun, the earth’s most visible life-giving force. The sun was a traditional part of the
Egyptian afterlife. The Egyptians believed that the sun traveled through the underworld
at night.80 This corroborates the blinding and brilliant image of the spirit realm which

Lucius narrates. Sarapiswas frequently linked with the sun. Weber has asserted that

 

7“ August, De civ. 0., XVIII. 4. 5.
7” Mussies, "The Interpretation Judaica of Sarapis," 194-200.

8° The blending of underworld theology with the metaphor of darkness and light, or
night and day, also figures heavily in Apuleius’ version of the Cupid and Psyche myth.
Readers see some evidence of ancient beliefs regarding hell (Orcus) and/or Domus Ditis,
the House of Pluto. In this version of the myth, a jealous Venus is giving Psyche
impossible tasks—reminiscent of the twelve labours of Hercules. After Psyche passes the
particularly difficult second task, getting some golden fleece from a magical flock of
sheep, Venus declares her belief that the girl is a witch (Malefica=evil doing). She
commands the girl to "take herself straightaway to hell, to the feral haunts of Orcus
himself. Protinusque ad inferos et ipsius Orci ferales penates te derige." There, she is to
fill a box with a day’s worth of beauty. Hell is clearly depicted as being "under the
ground," an ancient understanding of the world which still exists in some religious circles.
With the help of a magic tower, Psyche is instructed to locate the area known as
Taenarus, a ruined and remote region. Here she will find the "breathhole of Hell
(spiraculum Ditis). The Hell depicted in Apuleius does indeed seem to have been linked
with darkness and/or night, for as Psyche departs from Hell a la Orpheus, she is said to
"worship the bright light of day (adorata candida ista luce)." Psyche’s descent into hell,
from which she successfully emerges, is a metaphor for religious salvation. It serves as
a kind of parable for the sort of religious salvation which is the moral centerpiece of
Apuleius’ Metamorphoses. Apul., Met., VI. 13, 16, 19, 20.

 

 

 

Sarapis wa
himself.81
A crucial
Each year
fesrival w
in this fes

was nestlt

 

 

208

Sarapis was initially considered a son of the god Helios, then a manifestation of Helios
himself.81 Indeed, there was an entire sub-sect of Sarapis centering around the sun.82
A crucial account of the solar cult comes from Rufin’s Ecclesiastical History (XI. 23).
Each year, on a certain day following the Nile’s annual flood and the New Year, a
festival was held at Alexandria. The temple was structured so that at a precise moment
in this festival, a single ray of sunshine would suike the god’s image, which normally

was nestled in shadows and darkness. Hani argues that this ceremony symbolically united

 

8‘ Weber, W., Drei Untersuchungen zur iigyptisch greichischer Religion, (Berlin,
1911),

82 Just as Sarapis was frequently associated with Helios, the sun, his consort Isis was
commonly linked with the moon. Indeed, virtually all the major goddesses of later
antiquity had the moon as one of their central symbols. In Ovid, Isis (in her Italian guise
as 10) appears to a certain Ligdus, who was encouraging his pregnant wife to commit
infanticide if the child should prove to be female. This story not only indicates the
significance of Isis as the divine protector of unborn women, but it also shows the
goddess’nocturnal qualities. Her forehead is ornamanted with moon shapes (lunaria
coruna). This correlates to Apuleius’ description of her in his Metamorphoses, wherein
she also has moon shapes on her forehead, as well as the wheat stalks symbolizing
fertility. Later, Apuleius reports that her garment also was adorned with the moon and
stars. Ovid, Met., IX. 660; Apul., Met., XI. 3, 4.

 

 

 

 

 

Sarapis wi
and Re hat

Bu
propound
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1979).

34
Statue
égypt

 

209

Sarapis with the life-giving sun.83 In terms of Egyptian theology, the deities of Osiris
and Re had been merged.84

But the great cults of the Hellenistic and Roman eras were not the only ones to
pr0pound the metamorphosis from death to life. The ancient world’s religiously heterodox
twilight centuries were host to a variety of new and often obscure cults embodying
profound notions about death, life, and resurrection. Lucian preserves one such example
in his The Passing of Peregrinus, which mockingly describes Peregrinus, who had
converted to Christianity for a time, but ultimately returned to cynic philosophy.

According to Lucian, he had become so enamoured of Indie ideas that he finally cremated

 

83 This Egyptian solar ceremony honoring Sarapis conesponds somewhat to early
Roman festivals honoring Luna, the moon goddess, whom later antiquity associated with
Sarapis’ consort Isis. She was one of the oldest and most elemental of' ancient Latin
deities, preceding the Syrian Atargatis and the Greek Artemis, whom Romans worshipped
as Diana. The comparison between Egyptian and Italian tendencies to worship the sun and
moon reveals the tenacious ancient propensity to venerate the heavens. Lucretius claimed
that the first men were compelled to religion by the many activities of the sky—night,
day, storm, show, winds, thunder, etc. The soft and enigmatic visage of the moon was no
exception. In early Rome, Luna was sometimes associated with Hecate and the lunar cycle
which had provided the most accessible unit of measuring time. Ovid notes that the
"moon rules the months. Luna regit menses." Therefore, according to Ovid, the end of
each March ended with the worship of the moon on the Aventine hill. Varro echoes these
same assertions. The passage by Varro notes that the temples built by Titus Tatius
included Temples both to the moon and Diana. If Varro is using some ancient source, this
would probably indicate some distinction between the two during the Sabine period.
Tacitus reports the construction of another temple honoring the moon on the Aventine,
and near the Circus Maximus. Vitruvius mentions this temple as well. Ovid, Fasti, 109-
110, Met., III. 883; Varro, Lingua Latina, V. 68, 74; cf. Tacitus, Ann, XV. 41. l; Vit., V.
5. 8; Lucretius, V. 1188-1193; Lunais, Sophie, Recherches sur la Lune: 1., Les Auteurs
Latins de la fin Guerres Puniques a la fin du regne des Antonins, (Leiden: E. J. Brill,
1979), 98.

8" "Le sens d’un tel rite est Clair. I1 s’agissait, en Somme, d’une reanimation de la
statue, d’une ’unio mystica de Sarapis avec son pere, c’est a dire, en terms de theologie
égyptienne, d’Osiris avec Ré. Hani, "Sarapis Dieu Solaire," 53.

 

 

 

himself at O
Peregrinus’
in death am
more popul
Per:
Odyssey.”5
take on so
man. Men.
who told 1
Fe
abstract r
Eligion :
Proteus,"
to be cal
Indian bi
accused

support

 

 

210

himself at Olympia in AD. 165. Despite Lucian’s derisive tone, many telling qualities of
Peregrinus’ beliefs emerge from the account. These indicate fairily sophisticated beliefs
in death and resurrection theology, and the diffusion of this sort of metamorphosis into
more popular culture.

Peregrinus feigned himself Homer’s Proteus, the "old man of the sea" found in the
Odyssey.” The being had a range of magical powers, including shape~shifting. He could
take on so many forms that it was virtually impossible for Menelaus to apprehend the old
man. Menelaus was able to corner him only at the instruction of his daughter Eidothea,
who told him to disguise himself in seal skins.

Peregrinus combined these beliefs in shape-shifting metamorphosis with more
abstract notions regarding resurrection. He apparently borrowed liberally from Indic
religion and Greek philosophy. Indeed, Lucian at one point calls him "Peregrinus
Proteus," and again, Proteus the "cynic."86 He notes that "Peregrinus no longer deigned
to be called Proteus, but had changed his name to Phoenix, because the Phoenix, the
Indian bird, was said to mount a pyre when it is very far advanced in age.87 Lucian also

accused the "Peregrinus" of repeating certain oracles which conveniently appeared to

support his claims to special and even divine status. It was plain, too, that he already

 

85 Homer, 0d., IV.
8" Lucian, Demonax, 21; adv. Idoct., 14.

87 Lucian, Passing of Peregrinus, 27.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

desired dis
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211

desired divine Status, and fully expected that image would be re-cast in gold.88 Lucian
reports that Peregrinus believed he was cremating himself "in order to teach them to scorn
death and conquer their fears," and to overcome the body’s physical limitations.” He
went to his cremation in a downright filthy shirt, somewhat resembling popular images
of John the Baptist and hinting at the ascetisicm which would come to characterize
religious fervor in late antiquity and the early Middle Ages.90 Indeed, he sees cremation
as a form of despising death, burning, and other such terrors." As he approached his
cremation fire, Peregrinus talked about all the trials he had faced, and the labors he had

endured?2 Reserving as much cynicism for the sophistry and pseudo-intellectualism of

 

8" The word here is avam'fioeoeat, to be risen up again. In Other words, he expects
a kind of cultural resurrection, in which his spirit and legacy will be both literally and
figuratively resurrected in the form of golden statuary. This demonstrates the subtle
tension between abstract and practical meaning which Hellenistic Greek accorded to the
word dtvaotaotg. This word became of monumental significance in Christian theology
and textual criticism.

’9 "039 Stfidierv autoug Oavatou Kataopoveiv Kort eyxaptepeiv tot; fistvoig."
ibid., 23.

9° ibid., 36.

9‘ In Mark, believers are promised that they will be able to handle serpents, drink
poisons, and undergo Other like activities. The passage’s origin is disputed, and it does
not appear in the earlier c0pies of Mark These controversial verses have given rise to
some of Christendom’s more bizarre religious sects, including the snake-handlers and fire-
eaters of American Appalachia. Mark 16: 17-18.

92 Again, comparison with Christian thinking is in order. Consider Paul’s boasting in
his epistle to the church at Corinth. "We are fools on account of Christ, you are strong.
You are in glory, we are in dishonour. Until this hour, we hunger and thirst, we are
naked, burdened and stateless. 1'1qu utopoi 51a XptOtOV, unetg 86 opovutor 6v
XplO'TQ, nueig doeeveig, must“; as toxupot. music Evfioém, music 56 (Stupor. drop

11‘); dipag teat nervtbtlev Kort Stwauev Kat yuuvuefiuev teat xohouttCo'tteOa mt
amatouuev." ICor. 4:

 

 

 

his day a
philosoph
of yelling
the quali
Subseque
who clal:
his spirit
understa
religious
age wh
Christia
metamo

religion

manifes
was ma
liberati

had be

sOme
Cremat
Pereg;

 

212

his day as he did for religious fanaticism, Lucian also notes that the various cynic
philosophers at the scene were pushing Peregrinus into the flames—the ancient equivalent
of yelling "Jump!" to a suicidal man perched on the ledge of a skyscraper.93 He sensed
the quality of religious extremism which led to such phenomena as Peregrinus.
Subsequently, Lucian declares that he would not at all be surprised someday to see some
who claim themselves to be healed of fevers by him, or claim that they had encountered
his spirit in the dark.94 However jaded and acerbic his insights may have been, Lucian’s
understanding of the kinds of social and psychological conditions which give rise to new
religious cults are extremely striking—especially given their context with regards to the
age which nor only spawned minor figures like Peregrinus, but major faiths like
Christianity. What is most important to note here are the striking similarities between
metamorphosis beliefs preached by the obscure Peregrinus and the more powerful
religions of the day, including nascent Christianity.

It was in Christianity where the most profound, tangible and unequivocal
manifestation belief in death and re-birth materialized. Ancient belief in a metamorphosis
was manifested most profoundly in the resurrection, and subsequent beliefs regarding the
liberation of the body and/or spirit from the corrupt realm of the physical world which

had been handed down since the Fall of Man in the Garden of Eden. The Christian

 

93 Indeed, Lucian notes that if Peregrinus should somehow have been able to pull
some of these fraudulent and parasitic intellectuals into the flames with him, the
cremation ceremony would have been a good thing after all. Lucian, Passing of
Peregrinus, 26.

9“ ibid., 28.

 

 

 

 

resurrectio
the new re
rivaled [ht
classes.
ll
dcvdorccr
from the
dvototu
mundant
example
describe
used in
meanin
simple
sensu'v
this,
says t

(dwelt

 

 

213

resurrection of the dead was the last great act of metamorphosis of ancient religion. When
the new religion claimed to have raised men from the dead, it was making a claim which
rivaled the fascination which folklore stories like those of Erictho wielded for popular
classes.

The primary word for the resurrection which occurs in the New Testament is
avaotamg, a word from which the name Anastasia was derived The word is derived
from the verb tomut, to stand, and the preposition ava, which means "up." Hence, the
dtvétotocotc; meant, literally, a standing up, or a rising. And indeed, it is in this very
mundane, literal sense that the word is often used in the Bible. Only a few of the many
examples need be noted here. Peter, in Luke’s resurrection story, for example, is
described as "rising up" (avaotag) and running to the tomb.95 Sometimes the word is
used in ostensibly simple contexts, but ones which could well have larger, more profound
meaning as well. The calling of Matthew, for example, uses dtviomttt in a seemingly
simple context—but one which could well have larger meaning, especially given the
senstive context of the story, and the larger significance of the Christian "calling,
Kiri/01g." Here, Christ saw Matthew sitting at the customs house (em to tekoSVIOV) and
says to him, "Follow me ('AKOAOOGEI nor)" Subsequently, Matthew, "rising up

(dwaorag)" follows Jesus.96 The understated Hellenistic Greek is even more succinct

 

95 Luke, 24:12.

96 Matt. 9:9.

 

 

 

 

 

 

in Luke. Tt
behind." he
0th
death and
This same
in this cor
entailed
rise."99 M
he shall :
by the S;
who had
woman
outov

G0d "01

t0 refer

 

214

in Luke. Telling the same story, Luke noted: ". . . rising up," and "leaving everything
behind," he followed Christ?7

Other uses of aviornttt in the New Testament narratives are more specific to the
death and resurrection themes. Peter "rose up" to go to raise Dorcas from the dead.98
This same story also featured Peter’s use of the imperative avaornet. Use of the word
in this context is perhaps closer to the theological meaning which avototocorg utlimately
entailed. Christ, in referring to the dead Lazarus, tells Martha, "Your brother shall
rise."99 Martha makes a rather telling comment to Christ’s assertion,aying, "I know that
he shall arise in the resurrection in the last day."100 ’Avaotamg is also the word used
by the Sadducees in trying to trick Christ by asking him to whom a wife would belong
who had been married to seven successive deceased brothers: "In the Resurrection, the
woman becomes the woman of which of them, ('H yuv1’t 015v év ti] dcvaordoer tivog
octb'tav ytverat yovft."), to which Christ gave the famous response that God is not the
God "of the dead (vexptbv) but of the living (aim Ctr)Vttov)."'°l

The other important Greek word which was routinely used in the New Testrnent

to refer to resurrection was éyeipa), a verb which literally means to "rouse up" or to

 

97 "Kort Katahltwov ttavra. . . Luke 5:28; cf. also, Mark 2:13-17.
98 Acts, 9:38.
99 " 'Avao'rfloetat o afielooc; oou." John 11:23.

1°" . . Older Orr dcvaomoetou ev rt] dtvaGIécO‘EI €V $016170 7111?:qu ibid., 111
24; Consider also Christ’s famous and telling response: "I am the resurrection and the life
. . . 'Eyn) slut 1‘} drvécorocorc; Kori 1’] Cam." ibid., 11: 25.

1‘” Luke 20:32, 38; The Sadducees did not believe in the resurrection of the dead. an
idea which had found favor with many Jews during the period.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"awaken.”
linguistic i
theological
Despite tl
interchang
Bethseda
the sins (
Pharisees
unto you
of the rt
Matthew
the same
the girl.
the wor
refenec'

VEKpQV

215

"awaken." And as was the case with dvdototmg, Helper) serviced a wide range of
linguistic usages, spanning from the most rigidly practical to the most abstract and
theological. Again, consideration of only some of the most telling examples is warranted.
DeSpite the differences between the two words, they are sometimes used all but
interchangeably. The imperative “EyEIpe is used by Christ in healing the man at the

1302 Christ used the word similarly in another healing. Jesus had forgiven

Bethseda poo
the sins (duaprtor) of a paralytic, an act which incurred the rebuke of the ubiquitous
Pharisees. Subsequently, he said to the crippled man, "Rising up, take your bed and return
unto your home."‘°3 The word refers to healing again in the story of Christ’s healing
of the ruler’s daughter. Here, after his miraculous services were sought by the ruler,
Matthew reports that Christ, "rising up," went to follow the diStraught man.“ Later in
the same account, éyerpo) more specifically connores being raised from the dead. Here,
the girl, whom the ruler had believed dead, "was raised up (nyepe‘n)." Other accounts use
the word in similarly interesting fashion. 'E‘yetpa) figures in John, when the writer
referred to Lazarus as he "whom him (Jesus) raised from the dead—6v nympev Etc

"105

vexpthv. When Christ is sleeping in the boat, and the storm comes which he

 

102 John 5: 8.

‘°’ "'eyepeetc; dpév oou tnv vanv trod {Strays at; rov oixov." Matt. 9:7. Note
also the close synoptic similarity which all the synoptic accounts of this story display. All
three use virtually the same wording, including the imperative of éyetpm. Cf. Mark 2: 9;
cf. also Luke 5: 24.

‘°‘ "...£'yerpeerg, o fitoo’OQ nxolooenoev camp." Matt. 9:19. cf. Mark 5:21; cf. also
Luke 8:40.

1°45 John 12: 1; cf. 12:9.

 

 

ultimately
used in [hi
on the w
Galactic

“ll
disciples
Jesus tell
John and
rise (CW

connotat

216

ultimately quells, the word is used when the disciples awaken Jesus.“ The word is
used in the account in which Christ, and even Simon Peter, are both said to have walked
on the water. Here, John asserts, "the sea was roused up by a mighty wind, 11 re
Oaxaooor dtvetlou ueydlou nveovrotq Stayefpero."‘°7

The words also figure heavily in accounts of the Transfiguration. Here, the
disciples fall to their faces at seeing the unencumbered glory of Christ, at which point
Jesus tells them to "rise up and fear not.“08 After the Transfiguration, Jesus tells Peter,
John and James not to tell anyone the thing which they saw until the son of man "should

rise (avaomY’ from the dead.“ This hints at the more theological and abstract

connotations of dvfomttt. Matthew reports the same admonishment, using é‘ydpm.

 

‘06 Matt. 8:25; cf. also Mark 4:58.

1‘" John 6:18; One interesting point emerges concerning the "Ascension," an event
which certainly could have warranted the use of either avaotaorg or éyerpm. It was,
after all, a "rising up" in bOth a literal and theological sense. Still, the sources describing
the story of Christ’s ascension back into heaven do not use this word. Mark uses the verb
avakaufldvm, saying that Christ was "taken up into heaven (avalfluon 81g tov
oepavov)!‘ Luke uses dtvaoepcn, saying that he was "borne up, dtveoepero." Acts,
generally assumed to also have been written by Luke, uses odpeo): "And saying these
things, he was snatched up which they were wtaching, and a cloud took him from their
eyes." "teat retina elnwv Blenovrmv antebv étrt'tpe'n Kat vedéitn enslaflcv autov
duto 16W ooealttav a'btdbv." Acts 1: 9; cf. Mark 16: 19; cf. also Luke 24: 51; Consider
also the sublte differences of the word dtvaBatvco, or going up. This is the word Matthew
used to describe Christ’s baptism, where Jesus "goes up, aveBn," from the water. Mark
used the same word, in nominative partiple form, dwaBodvcov ex tO‘O 08mm; cf. Matt.
3:16; Mark, 1:10.

108 "'814591118 K0011“! magmas." Matt. 17:7.
“’9 Mark 9:9.

 

 

 

 

"Speak th.
up from t
Bl
direcdy 1
than the 1
example
a final an
the dead
1
conside:
occurs i
commo
to refle

lmows

 

217

"Speak the dream (Opatta) to no one until the time at which the son of man should rise
up from the dead."”°

Both (So/{6mm and mp0) served mundane and practical usages, but were also
directly linked to the theology which informed no less a staple of the Christian message
than the resurrection of the dead. This powerful story and myth was the final and greatest
example of ancient metamorphosis; the transformation of both the body and the soul into
a final and perfected (re/71.8109 state. In the gospel accounts of Christ’s resurrection from
the dead, the words are used all but interchangeably.

But before discussing the resurrection metamorphosis at greater length,
consideration must also be given to another metamorphosis metaphor which frequently
occurs in New Testament thinking; the use of seed imagery. Seed imagery is extremely
common in early Christian writings—especially the New Testament gospels, which tended
to reflect the thinking and idioms of rural Palestinian Judaism. Christ notes that one

111

knows it is summer by the fig tree’s blossom. More, seed and growth cycle imagery
figure heavily into Christ’s great parables. There is the parable of the vineyard workers,

for example.112 Similarly, there is the famous passage of the sower going forth to

sow.113 Sometimes too, the "kingdom of heaven (Bacall-ion 1:th ofipocvobv) was likened

 

11° "MnSevr etrmre to Opaua écoo of) 6 nice tor“) avepomou etc vexptbv ayepefi.
Matt. 17: 9. Note the use of opaua, the word for a vision, or a thing being seen. The
word highlights the esoteric and mystical connotations of the transfiguration experience.

“1 Matt. 24:32-35; cf. Mark 13:28-31; Luke 21: 29-33.
“2 Matt. 20: 1-16.

“3 Matt. 13: 19; cf. Mark 4; 19: Luke 8: 4-8~

 

 

 

to a mustar
greater [hi
among the
field. but
there is al
know the
fruit is g
(autoud
T
in the gr
was, no
assumpt

‘

114 I
115 I
116 1
117
118

119

and Cl
SClfish
impreg
Into th
Hebre'
group.
Cl‘Oficj
Signif
POIenc

 

 

218

to a mustard seed, which is smaller than other seeds, but grows (aufinen) and becomes
greater than other herbs. Finally, it becomes a tree.”4 In the parable of the weeds
among the wheat, the "kingdom of heaven" is likened to a man sowing good seed in his
field, but the enemy comes and sows tares in the midst of the grain and departs.115 Too,
there is always that tried and true axiom of Christian education, "by their fruits ye shall
know them."116 Elsewhere the spiritual life is likened to a tree. "If the tree is good, the

fruit is good."“7 Mark tells readers that the earth bears forth fruit of its own accord

118

(autottam).

These are not mere illustrations taken from nature. The transformation evidenced
in the growing cycle comprised one of religion’s most powerful metaphors. Some of this
was, no doubt, that old equation of fecundity with health and wealth, a not unfounded

assumption for a much harsher age than today’s.119 In Christian theology, the believer’s

 

”4 Matt. 13: 31; cf. Mark 4: 30-32; Luke 13: 18-21-

“5 Matt 13: 25.

“6 mam 'ctbv Kaprctiw on’rcébv ertwaioeoee abrorig." Matt. 7: 16.

“7 ibid., 12:33.
“8 Mark 4: 28.

“9 Such notions were part of Jewish thinking in the first century, as well as "pagan"
and Christian thinking. Philo equated the infamous "self-love (ollaurtaf' of Onan with
selfishness. This refers to the Old Testament story in which Onan is ordered by Judah to
impregnate his brother’s wife. Knowing the child would not be his however, Onan went
into the tent and "spilled his seed on the ground" rather than sire his brother’s heir. In the
Hebrew thinking of the day, Onan had thought of his own well-being rather than the
group. Though long used by clergy to scare adolescent males from the horrors of auto-
eroticism, the passage almost certainly refers to coitus interruptus. Nonetheless, its
significance was not lost on the ancients, who saw Onan’s selfish refusal to share his
potency in the most moral of terms. Cf. Philo, Quad Deus Immutablis Sit, IV. 16; cf. also

 

 

 

 

 

spiritual
character
spark en
which h
intuitive
spiritual
powerfu
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the sect

kingdor

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seeds.
in prot
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121

much

(981a;
Cycle.
Simila
and w
in W11
Spling
10 life
PTOVit
Werc

5;VI

219

spiritual life was a process which closely mirrored the physical maturation which was a
characteristic of the natural world.120 The ’fertile seed’ was a manifestation of the divine

m Unlike older counterparts

spark emanating from all life, and especially human life.
which had always been found in the many ancient fertility cults—with their almost
intuitive understanding that life often emanates from death—Christianity added new
spiritual and ethical dimensions to the ancient metaphor. This was, in essence, the
powerful message which the Christian avatamg conveyed to the ancients: to live, you
must die. Subsequently, you will be resuscitated in a new, perfect body and spirit. Like

the seed which must first go forth into the ground before becoming a plant, to gain the

kingdom of heaven, your old self must die, to be replaced with a new and improved

 

Genesis 38: 8-10.

1” Consider Lucian’s comparison of youthful male maturation with the sowing of
seeds. He nOtes that young plants are frail, and growers must enclose the young seedlings
in protective shelters so that they will not be injured by the breeze. When the stalk begins
to thicken however, the grower can take away the prOtection, which will ultimately make
them even more fruitful (Kaprttttartepa). Lucian, Athletics, 21.

12‘ Philo, who never mentions the dramatis personae of the New Testament but shares
much of its theology, wrote that Hanna, the m0ther of Samuel, received the divine seed
(Getag yovorg). In this same treatise, Philo discussed how God had set up the agricultural
cycle. God, he says, assigned (artsvrtte) growth to the plants. Here there is at least some
similarity to Christ’s famous parable of the seeds. A plant which is not watered decays
and withers. When watered however, its growth is fully manifest for all to see. So too,
in winter, plants die, to rise again in summer. Nature ((1)0010 then rises with the
springtime warmth (8K Baeeog firwou rteptavacnaoa) and nourishes the young plants
to life. Nature provides this nourishment (tpooeta) to the seedling just as a mother
provides milk to an infant. More, the mystified means of this (51a rivtb dttpav av nopmv)
were analogous to women’s life giving breasts. cf. Philo, Quad Deus Immutablis Sit, II.
5: V11. 3740.

 

model. Th
fruit if, fa
Th
was fount
demonstn
body witl
In fact, ‘
Christian
thought
the phys
of God,
a mirror
was syi
Spiritua
physicr
thinkin

YOUI ll

 

 

220

model. This is what Christ meant when he said that "the grain of wheat bears forth much
fruit if, falling to the ground, it dies."122

The seed image comprised a profound metaphor for Christian metamorphosis. It
was found in myriads of early Christianity’s most famous stories and beliefs. As was
demonsuated in an earlier chapter on blood, early Christianity associated the physical
body with death and corruption. This basic idea informed the great doctrine of orignal sin.
In fact, the body was used as a metaphor both for the Church as a whole, and for
Christian maturation. Consider, for example, Paul’s famous line, "When I was a child, I
thought like a child . . . but when I became a man, I put away childish things."123 Too,
the physical body and mortal consciousness were utterly unable to understand the truth
of God, an eerily Platonic idea. Recall, for example, Paul’s statement, "We see though
a mirror into an enigma, but then face to face."124 Hence, the growth of the human body
was symbolically equated with the growth of the Christian initiate in knowledge and
spiritual development. This again is demonstrated when Paul equates spirituality with
physical maturation, using the word ¢p€vog. "Brethren, be ye not children in your
thinking (Torig ¢peotv), but be ye children in regards to evil. Be ye mature (1818101) in

your thoughts."’25

 

‘22 John 12:24.

123 1 Cor. 13: ll; consider also Ephesians, which discusses the ChriStian life,
distinguishing between infants (new believers) and adults (mature Christians). Ephesians
4: 14-15.

(‘24 Bke’nouev yap dprt 51.’ éodmpou év aivtyuom, 1618 58 npdoamov rtpOg
rtpoocottov." 1 Cor. 13: 12.

‘25 ibz’d. 14: 20.

 

 

Bur
symbolisrr
natural be
believed t
message
physical

corrupt—
wages (t
and "fel
“flesh ai
corrupti
physics
Nicode
tells th
heaver

from :

Grer
the

 

221

But this preoccupation with the body was manifested in more ways than just
symbolism regarding human growth cycles. In many primitive Christian doctrines, sin, the
natural body and death were one and the same thing. "Sin reigned in death."126 Sin was
believed to have been handed down by Adam. Indeed, the entire essence of the Christian
message lay in this belief in the utter depravity of the self, as characterized by the
physical body. In this perverse egalitarianism, all men and women were equally
corrupt—equally doomed. Hence, the epistle to the infant church in Rome notes that the
wages (tot Owemth) of sin were death.127 More, a1 had sinned (rtétvreg yap fittaptov)
and "fell short of God’s glory (ficrepofivrort mg 5093119 100 9800)."128 Paul wrote that
"flesh and blood (cdpé Kori critter)" would not inherit the kingdom of god, neither would
corruption inherit incorruption.129 This dichotomy between the spiritual body and the
physical body was also apparent in the discussion between Jesus and the Pharisee
Nicodemus. Here, the religious leader comes to Christ by night to seek answers. Christ
tells the old man that "except someone be born from above, he cannot see the kingom of
heaven." Continuing, he asserts, ”that being born from flesh is flesh, and that being born

from spirit is spirit."130

 

‘26 "...$Baofl£uoev1'j aileron/0t av ‘54) Goo/ditto." Romans 5: 21; Paul also wrote that
Christian are "dead" (vexpoOg) in their sins. Cf. Ephesians 2: 1,5; Colossians, 2: 13.

127 Romans 6: 23.
‘28 ibid., 3:23.
129 1 Cor. 15: 50.

13° The Latin word Uterus embodied many of the same connotations which Hellenistic
Greek did, with regards to the physical body. The "Uterus T errae" was said to have been
the hole in the earth from which all living creation had been born. Birth and the body

 

 

 

Gi
was a crt‘
was appa
Christ’s r
and our
Godvrl3l
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Corinth
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belief
and t1
3 met

WCR
the s

222

Given the equating of the old and/or physical body with death, the resurrection
was a crucial linch-pin in the Christian message of metamorphosis. Hence, when there
was apparently a group at Corinth who were denying the significance and historicity of
Christ’s resurrection, Paul was adamant: "1f Christ be not raised, our message is in vain,
and our faith is in vain—we shall be found false witnesses (weufioudtptupeg) of
God."131 He alleges that the risen Jesus was seen by over five hundred people, many
of whom were still living at the time he wrote the first epistle to the church at
Corinth.‘32 Pitting the first Adam against the second Adam (Christ), he notes that in
Adam, all die. Conversely, in Christ, all shall be made alive (Ccportorr'r()t‘lcrovmtt).‘33
Ironically, Cmonorea) occurs far less frequently in the New Testament than does
tin/10min and é'yEIpcu, but its meaning is no less significant in terms of Christian
resurreCtion theology. Elsewhere, it is used in conjuncrion with the seed metaphor. For
example, Paul writes that "what you sow is not made alive, except that it dies."'3" This
is hinting at many of the same ideas which are found in a range of ancient fertility
beliefs, including the Eleusinian rites centering around Demeter and Persephone, Adonis,

and the elusive Isis rites described in Apuleius’ Metamorphoses. Death is not the end, but

a metamorphosis. In the New Testrnent, this is never clearer than in Paul’s quote that "all

 

were seen as part of a natural physical order, which could be readily distinguished from
the spiritual realm. John 3: 3, 6.

‘3‘ 1 Cor. 15: 14-19.

132 ibid., 15: 5-6.

‘33 ibid., 15:22.

134 ". . . Kat 5 Mpg; or) Cmorrorei'tat édv 111’! MOGM." ibid., 15: 36.

 

 

 

 

 

 

flesh is
(énoopét
E
of the m
and the
incorrut
Continu
natural,
The fir:
unto sp
"SECOl'lr
second

(We

 

223

flesh is not the same flesh." Instead, the apostle distinguishes between "heavenly
(enoupavra) flesh, and earthy (arriving), or carnal flesh.”

Hence, the Christian conversion was a fundemantal transformation. It echoed many
of the most basic ancient religious ideas of the era. But it also added a moral dimension,
and the risen, metamorphosed Christian being had been "sown in corruption, risen in
incorruption; sown in dishonor, risen in glory; sown in infirmity, risen in power."
Continuing, Paul wrote, "the body is sown natural, it is risen as spiritual. If the body is
natural, it is also physical."136 Again, the comparsion is made between the two Adams.
The first man, Adam, was fashioned unto natural life. The second Adam was fashioned
unto spiritual life. Similarly, the first "man" was of the earth (etc mt; xoi‘rcog), while the
"second man (Sautepog GtVGptortog) was "of heaven (8% obpaavoO)."‘37 It was the
second man, Jesus, who, Paul believed, had saved Christians from death, the last enemy

(onortog ExepOg).138 The Christian defeat of death was the only thing which had saved

 

”5:19:21. 15:40.

136 u

oneipetat av (room, éyeiptat av doeapotot. creetpetar av amulet, éyetperar
év Sofia. onetperoct év doeeveta, éyetpetort ev Suvauet. onetperat cantor \jruxtrcov,
éyer'perat carter nveurtomkov. er éotw traitor wuxrrcciv, Ectw rcat nveuuarrrcov. " ibid.
15:43.

13" ibid., 15:47.

‘38 ibid., 15: 26.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

believers
let us eat
Tl
subseque
many of
buried W
from the
life?“0
Christ.’
to the n

dead in

 

224

believers from the vacuousness of existentialism. Paul wrote, "If the dead be not raised,
let us eat and let us drink, for tomorrow we die."139

The sacrament of Christian baptism was perceived as symbolizing death and
subsequent rebirth in microcosm. Paul, in Romans 6 writes: "Or know ye not that as
many of us as were baptized unto Christ Jesus were baptized unto his death? We were
buried with him through baptism unto his death in order that just as Christ was raised
from the dead through the glory of the father, thus also might we walk in newness of
life."140 Hence, one notes that baptism, too, mimicked the death and resurrection of
Christ. The baptized believer had, in effect, undergone a metamorphosis from the old self
to the new self. According to Paul, the believers reason themselves to be on the one hand
dead in sin, but, on the other hand, living in God by Christ Jesus.141

The resurrection came to be seen as much more than just the gift of eternal life.
It involved a fundamental transformation of the body and spirit into a perfected form. The
resurrection figured heavily into traditional Jewish apocalyptic thinking. In New

Testament Christianity, this same notion lived on in an eclectic mixture of ideas spanning

the old "dry bones" rising up a la Ezekiel, and the judgement day eschatology which

 

‘39 "£1 vexpot 013K eyeipovrort, ’(bdryoruev Kort trimuev, apptov yap
étrtoevflorcottev." ibid., 15:32; This verse is quoted from the book of Isaiah 22:13. Christ,
or the gospel writer, alludes to it as well, in the parable of the "rich fool." Cf. Luke 12:

19-20; Is. 56:12.

14" "fl dwoeite 61:1 door éBarrrtoemrev air; Xptotov ’Inoofiv etc tov eavatov
autofi eBartttoenttr-zv; covetaonuev 015v aura) are 1:06: Bartrtouorrog etc tov
eavatov, {vet dronep nyepen Xprorog etc vexpmv 81a mg 8012119 1:00 rtarpog, O‘D’CCOg
Kort nut-zit; év rconv6rnrt Crane neprrrarétocottev." ibid 6:3-4.

‘4‘ 1 Cor. 6: 11.

 

 

 

 

figured sig
final resur
up" in the
in Judaisr
whom G(
E

Easter at
normal ]
ttaditior
Easter r
ascensir
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this m:

to havr
which
resum

Chrisr

took
caug
5:21

225

figured significantly in much Hellenistic Judaism and Primitive Christianity. The great
final resurrection day was now combined with a new twist: the idea of being "snatched
up" in the twinkling of an eye. This final theme seems to have had less ancient precedent
in Judaism, though one could certainly point to the cases of Enoch and Elijah, b0th of
whom God snatched up suddenly into heaven.‘42

Even the apocryphal stories surrounding the first resurrection—that of Christ on
Easter moming—indicate a belief in a resurrected body which was vastly different from
normal physical bodies. There is a kind of schi20phrenia in the gOSpels, and Christian
tradition generally. On the one hand, Jesus’ raising is seen as a literal event. He arose on
Easter morning and spent approximately forty additional days on earth. Then came the
ascension. But there is an0ther more subtle yet pervasive understanding of the
resurrection. Here, Christ makes only occasional appearances as a resurrected being. In
this manifestation, the resurrected Christ was not always clearly recognized, and seemed
to have different powers. It was probably this traditional understanding of the dvaotacng
which informed Saul of Tarsus’ Damascus Road conversion.”3 The appearance of the
resurrected Christ was seen, from this perspective, as part of the ongoing resurrection of

Christ. Hence, Paul, who was not among the dramatis personae of the four gospels, was

 

"2 In Genesis, one reads that Enoch walked with God, and Enoch "was not," for God
took him. Second Kings reports that Elijah, after picking Elisha as his successor, was
caught up by the Chariots of God near the Jordan Riber and Jericho. For Enoch, cf. Gen.
5:21-24; for Elijah’s ascension into heaven, cf. 2 Kings 2:1-12.

"3 Acts 9: 1-19.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

still able
two seer

which rr

Reports
well-kn
only th
in "ant
Luke’s
Emma

Thish

lino.
10 hr
of t
31305

 

226

still able to number himself among the apostles.“"’ This amorphous dichotomy between
two seemingly conflicting views of the resurrected body reveal much about the belief
which many early Christians had in a spiritual and physical metamorphosis.

In New Testament tradition, the resurrection experience had metamorphosed Jesus.
Reports of Christ’s resurrected body and its apparently altered state of physicality are
well—known. Matthew does not mention it much, and the resurrection account takes up
only the last, twenty-eighth chapter of the book. Mark, however, asserts that he appeared
in "another form" ("av {ate/pot popcbfi") to two disciples who were going into a field.145
Luke’s gospel includes the story of Christ’s appearance to the disciples on the road to
Emmaus wherein Christ appears to two of the disciples, but they did not recognize him.
This hints at the "metaphysical" resurrection in which Christ can walk through doors, and
cannot be touched. There is some similar tone to the story at the tomb wherein Christ
seems a confusing, angelic being—not altogether clearly distinguished from the angels
guarding the site. The disciples did not recognize Christ, as "their eyes were sealed in
order that they not recognize him."146 Only when Christ went with them to where they

were staying and broke the bread did the group finally grasp his identity.147 Still, some

 

14" 1 Cor. 15: 9; cf. the word artootolog, apostle, comes from the Greek
étrtootelka), a verb which means to "send forth." The apostles are traditionally thought
to be those disciples whom Christ had personally "sent forth." Since Paul was not a part
of the Palestinian Judaiac milieus which had spawned Christianity, his claim to
apostleship rested on his encounter with the resurrected Jesus on the Damascus road.

1‘5 Mark 16:12.

1"" "of 5%. '6¢9a)coi autobv exportoovro 101“) m emyvdrvon aurov." Luke 24: 16.

147ibt‘d. 24:30.

 

 

 

 

Lukianz
After Cl
reality t
which n
food t1
the acr

ICSUITC

more 6
Mary.
(lilo
being:
at the
"she

TCCOE

(Sum

agh

liter

 

227

Lukian accounts also seem designed to display the "real" nature of the resurrected Jesus.
After Christ was recognized during the bread-breaking, he proceeded to demonstrate the
reality of his ’corpus.”"8 First he commanded them to look upon his hands and feet,
which may hint at the "doubting Thomas" story preserved in John. Similarly, he requested
food, then ate while they are watching.149 Like the story of Thomas discussed below,
the account is obviously included to note the literally physical nature of Christ’s
resurrection.150

The writer of John includes descriptions of the resurrected Christ which are even
more enigmatic. Mary went to the tomb, this time apparently unaccompanied by the other
Mary. There, she met Simon Peter and "the other disciple whom Jesus loved (. . . 15
alloy rraBnnv 0v eotlet 'IcroOg . . .)." Mary looked into the tomb and saw angelic
beings—this time two, one seated at the foot of the place where Christ had lain, the other
at the head. Again, Mary did not recognize the resurrected Christ, the text stating that
"she saw Jesus standing, and she knew not that it was Christ!“1 After she finally

recognized him, he said something very interesting to her: "Do not touch me (Mfl p01)

(Simon), for I have not yet gone up to the Father.“2 Similarly, in the very next

 

’48 Recall as well that when his disciples first recognized him, "they thought to see
a ghost (é5’oxouv rrvefiuor escapeiv). ibid., 24:37.

“9 ibid., 24:37-40; cf. John 20:24-29.

15° For further reference and later debates on the Easter story, read Tertullian’s
literalist interpretation of the resurrection. Tertullian, De Resurectione Carnis, 2.

‘51 ibid., 20: 14-15.

’52 ibid., 20: 17.

 

 

lohannint
the Jews
the door
them his
(
unevent
as in so
bade th
caught
to ask
Christ
resurrt
knowr
acquis
perhat
hintin

preva

 

228

J ohannine account, the disciples were meeting behind locked doors "because of fear of
the Jews (Sta tOv (Do/[30v thv 'Ioubatmv).153 Christ appeared in their midst, although
the doors are locked.154 This implies a non-corporeal Jesus. Nonetheless, he showed
them his hands and his rib, as if to prove his physicality.155
Christ appeared again to his disciples while they were fishing.’56 After an
uneventful night of fishing, Christ appeared to the men while they were in the boat. And
as in so many of the other Easter story accounts, they again did not recognize him. Jesus
bade them cast their nets onto the right side of the boat Upon doing so, the disciples
caught a great wealth of fish. After this miraculous event, not one of the disciples dared
to ask him his identity. This, according to John, was the third time that the resurrected
Christ had appeared to his disciples.”7 There was one other important strand of
resurrection theology in primitive Christianity. A large-scale type of resurrection became
known as the "rapture." Its central feature was a sudden "snatching up" and the
acquisition of the final, perfect body and soul. In 1 Corinthians, Paul gives what is
perhaps the definitive New Testament description of this important futuristic belief. Here,
hinting at some of the greatest "judgement day" themes which were to become so

prevalent in Christian tradition, Paul writes, "We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be

 

”3 ibid., 20:19.

’54 Recall that the witches of Apuleius’ Metamorphoses were also able to go through
locked doors, or enter rooms. Apul., Met., 1. 7.

‘55 John 20: 20.

’56 It was, apparently, back to business as usual for the disciples.

’57 John 21: 1-14.

 

 

 

 

 

 

changed
recalls tl
ids/mm
\
vexpor
seems tr
Chrisria
the fin:

from 1:

are

660

 

229

changed in an instant—in the twinkling of an eye, in the final trumpet)“8 Hence, one
recalls the famous line the the day of the Lord would come as a "thief in the night (cbg
dert'mg av vurcri).”9 Here, in this futuristic event, "the dead shall be raised—01'
vexpoi Eyepet’toovron."’6° And when Paul says that "we shall all be changed," he
seems to be referring to the metamorphosis of the body and spirit into the perfected, final
Christian ideal. More, this final victory over corruption (4)901ptOV) was synonomous with
the final victory over mortality. "Death is swallowed up in victory," he writes, quoting

from Isaiah. "Oh Death, where is thy victory. Oh death, where is thy sting."161

 

158 n

tron/reg 01') Kortrrtenqotraea, travrec 8%: alkaynodueeor av dt’to’ttQ), av 'purtfl
ooeaanoo, av r11 éoxom] calmyyt." I Cor. 15: 51.

’59 I Thess. 5: 2.

16° 1 Cor. 15:52.

I (
’6‘ "Karerreoen ’o Gavatog etc, vi‘xog. 1:00 001), Beware, to vixog; 7:01“) 001),
adverts, to Kevrpov;" ibid., 15:55; cf. Isaiah 25: 8.

 

 

CHAPTER 6

CONCLUSION

Metamorphosis in Greco—Roman religious thought provided a common-theme in
much contemporary religious thinking, and gave an attractive power to many of the day’s
most pervasive and noted religions. That was its role. Ideas about metamorphosis, then,
helped to facilitate the diffusion of the various "Hellenistic" cults and, ultimately,
Christianity. It also furnished an important link among many of the "pOpular" religions
and folklores which were floating about, and the more formal and "traditional" religions
of later paganism. Metamorphosis provided an important bond with earlier Greek, Roman
and Near Eastern Religions. Many of the same ideas of transformation which had
appeared in religion prior to 323 B.C. found a new voice in the syncretism which
followed in the wake of Alexander’s armies. This offered religious men and women a
continuity between early and late paganism, and lent the credence of antiquity to new
forms of religious expression. Euripides lived centuries before the writers of either the
Hellenistic or the Roman eras. Yet his description of religious ecstasy, and its
transforming powers, was remarkably similar to that of Paul or Philo. In their descriptions
of Arcadian lycanthropy, Strabo and Pausanias were reporting on lore which, they

themselves noted, was prehistorically old. Yet their descriptions of men turning into

230

 

 

 

 

231

beasts bear obvious similarities to tales set in the AD. period, like those of Petronius or
Apuleius.

More important, I think, consideration of metamorphosis helps to resolve one of
the great interpretative questions of ancient hisrory: how did the various "Hellenistic"
cults spread throughout the cosmOpolitan ancient world? Certainly more than one reason
exists, and historians must resist the impulse to emphasize one factor for the new
diffusions at the expense of all the others. There are many reasons that new or
transformed religions grow, spread, and flourish. Political, social, and economic forces
play a major role. But one must not too casually dismiss the role of powerful sacred
ideas, human emotional needs, and personal experience. That spiritual and emotional
dimension is what earlier twentieth century historians like Franz Cumont, A.D. Nock, and
Gilbert Murray tried to stress in their work—and it is what I have tried to stress in mine.
The role of metamorphosis in Greco-Roman religious thought was that it directly appealed
to individual peOple on a deeply personal level, offering them hope for meaningful
transformation of their lives.

In many ways, Christian thought represented a culmination of metamorphosis
belief as it had evolved over a period of centuries and millennia. No qualitative difference
between Chrisdan transformation and that of other religions, or, indeed, folklores,
necessarily existed. But a case can be made that in chronological terms, at least,
Christianity embodied a hybrid blend of new and old thinking regarding
metamorphosis—one which not only borrowed heavily from earlier ancient religions and

Palestinian Judaism, but one which spawned its own rather unique promise of change, as

 

 

 

232

well. This new belief in transformation promised not only personal conversion, but a
radically altered concept of body, and resurrection from death. These same notions had
been present in other contemporary religions, too, most notably that of Isis and Sarapis.
When Christianity ultimately gained ascendancy in the religious struggle which
characterized later Roman history, it featured many of those same powerful notions about
metamorphosis which had characterized other ancient beliefs.

The idea of resurrection, and the metamorphosis from death to life, gradually took
hold in the ancient world. It was a tremendously attractive idea—one promising society’s
most lowly elements the gift of divinity. A commonality in many of the more abstract
metamorphosis beliefs posited that men and women could become gods or God. The idea
appeared in a variety of guises, ranging from the deification of Roman Emperors, based
on Ptolemaic Egyptian and other Hellenistic models, to the resurrection theology which
figured so heavily in many of the "Hellenistic mystery-cults." Ultimately, it was a belief
in a spiritual and physical metamorphosis—a religious leitrnotif which helped inspire a
wide range of the Greco-Roman faiths, including those from Egypt and, ultimately,
Christianity.

Metamorphosis entailed one basic, central religious idea, often understood both
metaphorically and literally. Such thinking envisioned a dramatic changing of physical
shape or nature which accompanied a fundamental spiritual transformation. Ultimately,
human beings could be changed into godlike creatures. This abstract metamorphosis
comprised one of the greatest acts of religious salvation. And although fundamentally

simple, it emanated from a profoundly diverse belief system. It ranged from the

 

 

 

 

233

restoration of Lucius’ human shape, and his Spiritual redemption at the hands of the
goddess Isis, to the beliefs in rapturous resurrection which fill the gospels and Pauline
epistles. It was a sacred link between the spirit and the body. Renewal or revivification
in one involved renewal or revivification in the other. It was a symbolic idea of great
religious and philosophical power. Metamorphosis promised that the sometimes dreary
realities of people’s everyday lives could be meaningfully transformed, and that there was

a haven from the unforgiving indifference of the natural order.

 

 

 

BIBLIOGRAPHY

 

 

 

 

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Primary Sources

Apuleius, The Apologia and Florida of Apuleius of Madura, trans. by HE. Butler,
Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press Publishers, 1969).

«Metamorphoses, trans. by W. Adlington, (Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard
University Press, 1965).

Aristides, in 3 vols., ed. by Guilielmi Dindorfii, (Hildesheirn: Georg Olms
Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1964).

Aristophanes, in 3 vols., trans. by Benjamin Bickley Rogers, (New York: G.P. Putnam’s
Sons, 1927).

Augustine, The City of God Against the Pagans, in 4 vols., trans. by George E.
McCracken, (Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 1957).

Cataullus, Gaius Valerius Catullus: the Complete Poetry, trans. by Frank Copley, (Ann
Arbor: the University of Michigan Press, 1957).

Cicero, 0n Divination, trans. by William Arrnistead Falconer, (Cambridge, Massachusetts:
Harvard University Press, 1959).

Diodorus Siculus, in 12 volumes, trans. by Russel M. Geer, (Cambridge, Massachusetts:
Harvard University Press, 1907).

Edelsteins, Emma and Ludwig, Asklepios: a Collection and lntpretation of the
Testimonies, (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1965).

Euripides, 4 vols., trans. by Arthur S. Way, (Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard
University Press, 1964).

Firmicus Matemus, L’Erreur des Religions Paiennes, trans. by Robert Turcan, (Paris:
Societe d’Edition, "Les Belles Lettres," 1982).

234

 

 

 

 

 

 

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