How Sallustius Made Me A Hellenist (Part II)

XV.

Why we give worship to the Gods when they need nothing.

This solves the question about sacrifices and other rites performed to the Gods. The divine itself is without needs, and the worship is paid for our own benefit.

The providence of the Gods reaches everywhere and needs only some congruity for its reception.

All congruity comes about by representation and likeness; for which reason the temples are made in representation of heaven,

the altar of earth,

the images of life (that is why they are made like living things),

the prayers of the element of thought,

the mystic letters of the unspeakable celestial forces,

the herbs and stones of matter,

and the sacrificial animals of the irrational life in us.

From all these things the Gods gain nothing; what gain could there be to God?

It is we who gain some communion with them.

All images from the Wikimedia Commons. Links shown here: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12

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How Sallustius Made Me A Hellenist

XVIII.

Why there are rejections of god, and that god is not injured.

Nor need the fact that rejections of god have taken place in certain parts of the earth and will often take place hereafter, disturb the mind of the wise:

both because these things do not affect the Gods,

just as we saw that worship did not benefit them;

and because the soul, being of middle essence, cannot be always right; and because the whole world cannot enjoy the providence of the Gods equally,

but some parts may partake of it eternally, some at certain times,

some in the primal manner, some in the secondary.

Just as the head enjoys all the senses, but the rest of the body only one.

For this reason, it seems, those who ordained festivals ordained also forbidden days, in which some temples lay idle, some were shut, some had their adornments removed, in expiation of the weakness of our nature.

It is not unlikely, too, that the rejection of god is a kind of punishment: we may well believe that those who knew the Gods and neglected them in one life may in another life be deprived of the knowledge of them altogether.

Also those who have worshipped their own kings as gods 

have deserved as their punishment to lose all knowledge of god.

Images all from Wikimedia Commons. In order: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

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Looking Back on the Anthesteria

The Anthesteria Papers: A Journal (11 - 13 Anthesterion 1.697)

1. Anthesteria Eve
2. Pithoigia
3. Khoes
4. Khutroi
5. Purification

Anthesteria Eve

Today, the snow came. They say that it will stop tomorrow. On my way home from giving someone computer tutoring, I took pictures of the road, the house, and the steps. One of the trees in the yard looked so beautiful.

We have had over a foot so far. The Anthesteria is a festival where flowers are in abundance, and I suppose that climate is inappropriate for the region; however, the wine aspect of the festival takes precedence. At this time of year, with the snow blowing outside, I need something to keep me sane for the rest of winter because Gaia will remain hard and unyielding until May.

The Finger Lakes needs a founding myth for Dionysos. Here, where the landscape varies between the languid, cool summers and the snowy winters, is an oasis of vineyards and gorges. The landscape drove me mad as a child when we moved away because I would see it when I closed my eyes. It's one of the places that, if you come in the summer, you will never forget. Kids and milk indeed.

After stopping at the liquor store for some cheap, local ice wine, I went home and tried to figure out what exactly I needed for the shrine. My regular one doesn't work for this festival, and I have decided to keep it covered until Sunday night. (This means I will miss Kyklos Apollon on Saturday night, but I think Apollon will understand; this may also have happened last year.) I made a beautiful small one using some fake flowers and a Classical painting of Dionysos adorned with vines, the same image that is on the cover of one of those posh academic editions of the Homeric Hymns.

I also have a special snuffer that I acquired just before the 12 Days of Dionysos that I am now using for Dionysian festivals.

Day One: Pithoigia

I have decided that it honors Dionysos the most when I am not gagging down sour wine. Ice wine tastes like alcoholic fruit juice, and I don't need to bother mixing honey in. On the label, it says "18.5% Residual Sugar By Volume." This stuff is great. I cut wine with water because I don't drink enough to know my tolerance level, and celebrating alone means that I am the only one to mind the candle on my temporary shrine.

This is probably more alcohol than I have ever had in my life. The main, structured Hellenic ritual closed about 10 minutes ago and I am still buzzing, unable to keep still. My Grooveshark playlist for Dionysos (which I made while dinner was cooking) is playing "Lightning Strikes" by Yes.

During the ritual, I read from the Bacchae and the Orphic Hymns. I also browsed through Elizabeth Roberts's Earth Prayers from Around the World to satisfy the festival's other side because all of the winter produce comes from California or wherever. I burned myrrh and breathed deeply while listening to music and thinking about Dionysos.

My hands are still mildly sticky from the wine, and my Kindle is the best. ritual. tool. ever.

Day Two: Khoes

It has finally stopped snowing, and my cheeks are flushed from about 2/3 a glass of wine.

I am thinking about celebrating the Anthesteria alone, and the more I think, it would be fantastic to celebrate this in a community of people where the happiness and joy of the holiday can abound.

Offering cult to the Eumenides has made the story of Orestes personally significant, so I celebrated that part traditionally reserved for men, the sharing of wine in separate glasses. It interests me that, as a long-term devotee of Apollon, I am so compelled to worship them. Many of the shrines dedicated to the Eumenides existed because Orestes had passed by that location in flight. It seemed appropriate to drink with him for that unintentional blessing.

Tonight, while meditating on Dionysos, I thought about him walking through the nighttime modern streets, coming into town via train and walking. Everything is silent, and there are no people. He goes through a small alley door into a room where the ghosts of the past sit waiting for the sacred marriage to complete, the hieros gamos. Out on the streets, everything is still quietly anticipating the presence of the God. I imagine myself there on the darkened streets, and when he comes out that door, I see him. We acknowledge each other briefly; suddenly, it's like a switch has been flipped and there are people everywhere with flowers and images and wine. It was a great moment in my imagination, and it makes me long for something that beautiful in reality.

My flute came out tonight; I played something improvisational in the lower registers to avoid wakening anyone. I'm not sure I can replicate the melody; it just came, and there was a regular pattern to it. I cut it off because I don't want to disturb anyone in the house, and I wasn't sure how much longer I could go on playing without embellishing and running up into the higher register.

Today, after the sun rises, I will make a hole in the several feet of snow to pour and clean the libations from the past few days. I would rather do this before tomorrow when the ancestors are worshipped. I am also thinking ahead to purification ceremonies for the lighter and other items I have used during the rituals, but the purification ceremony must wait until the Anthesteria has finished — Sunday night?

I anticipate going to bed tonight and reading something, but I am not quite sure what.

I wonder if it's significant that the Hindus begin Holi right after our Anthesteria ends?

Day Three: Khutroi

Today, I made offerings to the Chthonic Gods (Plouton, Persephone, and Hermes Chthonios), along with the ancestors. I cooked a thick stew of beans, oats, and potatoes, and I added a lot of interesting spices from the cabinet. It smelled good, but I didn't taste any of it. I dug a hole in the snow where I made the offerings.

My grandfather left many letters behind from his time serving in World War II, and I had intended for a while to open them during the Anthesteria. I read several of them from his time training in LA, along with one after he had begun his service in the United Kingdom, where he prepped houses to receive wounded soldiers. I have some budding ideas about what to do with these letters, including do some kind of giant blog project, but some of the letters are not dated. Thankfully, most have postmark stamps on them.

Purification

I asked Apollon for purification after the Anthesteria had ended, and for the first time I played my half-tuned psaltery while worshipping (using the notes I had tuned). Chanting PAIAN PYTHIAN APOLLON APOLLON PYTHIAN PAIAN was beautiful with the accompaniment. (Note: since that recording, I have made it a more melodic chant.) I sprinkled khernips everywhere and prayed for ritual purity.

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Philinnion

I first heard about this story in Lacey Collison-Morley's Greek and Roman Ghost Stories (1912), which prompted me to verify its origins at Theoi Greek Mythology. Anthesteria is a weird festival filled with the macabre. Orestes celebrated with his own wine-glass, defiled by the blood of his mother. The dead walk the Earth; shrines are covered.

It is the perfect time for vampires. Hellenistai, meet Philinnion.

Philinnion was the daughter of Demostratus and Charito. She had been married to Craterus, Alexander's famous General, but had died six months after her marriage. As we learn that she was desperately in love with Machates, a foreign friend from Pella who had come to see Demostratus, the misery of her position may possibly have caused her death. But her love conquered death itself, and she returned to life again six months after she had died, and lived with Machates, visiting him for several nights.

"One day an old nurse went to the guest-chamber, and as the lamp was burning, she saw a woman sitting by Machates. Scarcely able to contain herself at this extraordinary occurrence, she ran to the girl's mother, calling: 'Charito! Demostratus!' and bade them get up and go with her to their daughter, for by the grace of the gods she had appeared alive, and was with the stranger in the guest-chamber.

"On hearing this extraordinary story, Charito was at first overcome by it and by the nurse's excitement; but she soon recovered herself, and burst into tears at the mention of her daughter, telling the old woman she was out of her senses, and ordering her out of the room. The nurse was indignant at this treatment, and boldly declared that she was not out of her senses, but that Charito was unwilling to see her daughter because she was afraid. At last Charito consented to go to the door of the guest-chamber, but as it was now quite two hours since she had heard the news, she arrived too late, and found them both asleep. The mother bent over the woman's figure, and thought she recognized her daughter's features and clothes. Not feeling sure, as it was dark, she decided to keep quiet for the present, meaning to get up early and catch the woman. If she failed, she would ask Machates for a full explanation, as he would never tell her a lie in a case so important. So she left the room without saying anything.

"But early on the following morning, either because the gods so willed it or because she was moved by some divine impulse, the woman went away without being observed. When she came to him, Charito was angry with the young man in consequence, and clung to his knees, and conjured him to speak the truth and hide nothing from her. At first he was greatly distressed, and could hardly be brought to admit that the girl's name was Philinnion. Then he described her first coming and the violence of her passion, and told how she had said that she was there without her parents' knowledge. The better to establish the truth of his story, he opened a coffer and took out the things she had left behind her--a ring of gold which she had given him, and a belt which she had left on the previous night. When Charito beheld all these convincing proofs, she uttered a piercing cry, and rent her clothes and her cloak, and tore her coif from her head, and began to mourn for her daughter afresh in the midst of her friends. Machates was deeply distressed on seeing what had happened, and how they were all mourning, as if for her second funeral. He begged them to be comforted, and promised them that they should see her if she appeared. Charito yielded, but bade him be careful how he fulfilled his promise.

"When night fell and the hour drew near at which Philinnion usually appeared, they were on the watch for her. She came, as was her custom, and sat down upon the bed. Machates made no pretence, for he was genuinely anxious to sift the matter to the bottom, and secretly sent some slaves to call her parents. He himself could hardly believe that the woman who came to him so regularly at the same hour was really dead, and when she ate and drank with him, he began to suspect what had been suggested to him--namely, that some grave-robbers had violated the tomb and sold the clothes and the gold ornaments to her father.

"Demostratus and Charito hastened to come at once, and when they saw her, they were at first speechless with amazement. Then, with cries of joy, they threw themselves upon their daughter. But Philinnion remained cold. 'Father and mother,' she said, 'cruel indeed have ye been in that ye grudged my living with the stranger for three days in my father's house, for it brought harm to no one. But ye shall pay for your meddling with sorrow. I must return to the place appointed for me, though I came not hither without the will of Heaven.' With these words she fell down dead, and her body lay stretched upon the bed. Her parents threw themselves upon her, and the house was filled with confusion and sorrow, for the blow was heavy indeed; but the event was strange, and soon became known throughout the town, and finally reached my ears.

"During the night I kept back the crowds that gathered round the house, taking care that there should be no disturbance as the news spread. At early dawn the theatre was full. After a long discussion it was decided that we should go and open the tomb, to see whether the body was still on the bier, or whether we should find the place empty, for the woman had hardly been dead six months. When we opened the vault where all her family was buried, the bodies were seen lying on the other biers; but on the one where Philinnion had been placed, we found only the iron ring which had belonged to her lover and the gilt drinking-cup Machates had given her on the first day. In utter amazement, we went straight to Demostratus's house to see whether the body was still there. We beheld it lying on the ground, and then went in a large crowd to the place of assembly, for the whole event was of great importance and absolutely past belief. Great was the confusion, and no one could tell what to do, when Hyllus, who is not only considered the best diviner among us, but is also a great authority on the interpretation of the flight of birds, and is generally well versed in his art, got up and said that the woman must be buried outside the boundaries of the city, for it was unlawful that she should be laid to rest within them; and that Hermes Chthonius and the Eumenides should be propitiated, and that all pollution would thus be removed. He ordered the temples to be re-consecrated and the usual rites to be performed in honour of the gods below. As for the King, in this affair, he privately told me to sacrifice to Hermes, and to Zeus Xenius, and to Ares, and to perform these duties with the utmost care. We have done as he suggested.

"The stranger Machates, who was visited by the ghost, has committed suicide in despair.

"Now, if you think it right that I should give the King an account of all this, let me know, and I will send some of those who gave me the various details."

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