There are various official formats associated with the use of prayer beads in other faiths; there are many different ways to pray the Catholic rosary, for example, depending on which sort of rosary you happen to have. Buddhist or Hindu malas can also be used to keep count of various meditative or prayerful things, most notably mantras.
For pagans there aren't any similar traditional customs. This can be freeing in that you can use them in whatever way you are inspired to, but it can also be a little intimidating in the sense of "okay, what do I do with this thing now?"
Myself, I write prayers to go with my beads--but I write prayers anyway, it's something I've done for roughly as long as I've made prayer beads (going on 20 years now). If prayer composition (either writing or otherwise preparing them, or coming up with them easily off the top of your head) is something you are drawn to, then that's wonderful, but it isn't required.
The main thing the different sorts of prayer beads seem to have in common is that they are used to keep track of what you are doing, to enable you to focus on the prayer itself rather than the count. (Whether the count itself is significant will depend on you and your practice, but I find it helpful myself.) Often they are used when repeating a particular prayer or mantra; the Catholic rosary forms frequently include different beads (sizes, shapes, etc.) to be used for repeats of different prayers (the "Our Father" and "Hail Mary" for example).
Here are a few ideas:
Finally, prayer beads don't have to be fancy or complicated in order to be useful; you can make a simple set in a matter of minutes by tying knots in a piece of string. (You can of course also make a more traditional set of beads, have one made or buy one ready-made. :))
The important thing, I think, is to have something to hold onto--for me, using prayer beads helps me to take prayer out of my head and into the physical world.
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Short answer: The Roman gods were and are the Roman gods. The Romans did not simply take the Greek gods for their own and rename them. But the Romans had something called the interpretatio romana in which they identified foreign gods with their own deities. I’ve mentioned this elsewhere with regard to the Celtic gods of Gaul, but it’s something they tended to do regardless of where they went. And just as the British goddess Sulis became identified with the Roman Minerva, so did the Greek goddess Athena. Thus, many of Athena’s stories became associated with Minerva as well. (Which is not to say that those tales do not now belong to Minerva, too.)
Slightly longer answer: Rome, like Greece, came from older Indo-European origins. They (and their gods) have common ancestors. So it is also that rather than Jupiter deriving from Zeus, both gods derived from a more ancient ancestor, the reconstructed Proto-Indo-European *Dyeus Pater or “sky father,” and are cousins to the Norse Tyr. Since the Romans did, much much later, borrow from the Greeks as well, it’s now hard to say how much myth and deity attribute were common to both before that occurred. Minerva and Athena share a common ancestor, but it’s safe to say that Minerva became more “Athena-like” after the Romans encountered the Greeks.
(I’m adding a parenthetical caveat to say that I am not here discussing the differences between Greek and Roman religious practices, which were considerable and which certainly affected and affect relationship with deity. That’s a topic for a much longer day. I am also not considering the Etruscan gods in this post–again, another topic, another day.)
In some cases the Greek and Roman deities seem fairly similar–Zeus/Jupiter and Hera/Juno, for example, although in both cases the Roman gods do simply seem more Roman; Juno, to me (UPG warning), seems more matronly and perhaps dignified than the common perception of Hera.
In other cases there were noticeable differences. The Roman Vesta maintained a larger public presence than did the Greek Hestia. The Roman Venus was originally associated with gardens, fruit and flowers; while she also shares much with the Greek Aphrodite, to me she “feels” rather earthier than Aphrodite and lacks some of Aphrodite’s connection with the sea (again, UPG warning). And the Roman Mars retained his agricultural connections along with his warlike attributes and remained a widely popular deity, while the Greek Ares was less beloved.
And of course there are the many gods who simply have no Greek equivalent–Janus comes first to mind but there are numerous others.
Further reading:
Beard, Mary, John North and Simon Price. Religions of Rome: Volume 1, A History. Cambridge University Press: Cambridge, 1998.
Lipka, Michael. Roman Gods: A Conceptual Approach (Religions in the Graeco-Roman World). Brill: Boston, 2009
Scheid, John. An Introduction to Roman Religion. Trans. Janet Lloyd. Indiana University Press: Bloomington, Indiana, 2003.
]]>It was very much traditional for a grateful worshipper to leave a votive offering in the shape of the part of their body that had been healed. Asklepios temples held many models of arms, legs, hands and other body parts (sometimes life-sized!), a testimonial to the god’s goodness and mercy.
Pictured above is my most recent physical offering to Asklepios, a necklace in garnet and carnelian with a silver-toned pendant in the shape of an anatomical heart. (Apologies for the picture quality.)
The last time I gave physical votives to Asklepios, I went with a more traditional version and made small clay plaques. But that was 10 or 12 years ago and I now have a much more crowded Greek altar with many more icons. In other words, no room for anything large.
And unfortunately I don’t have pictures of the clay plaques. But they are pretty easy to make, so I’ll give some basic instructions on what I did.
First, you need some clay. I used air-dry art clay in terra-cotta, because that was the look I wanted; you could also use white clay and then paint it after it dries. Another option would be polymer clay, if you prefer it.
Once you have the clay, make your models. You can make a model of a foot, hand, or other body part and carve into it whatever message of gratitude you like. You can also make a flat rectangular or oval surface, and then either carve an image of the affected body part or system (say, lungs, a spine, or a digestive system) into it or else use more clay to show the part in a raised effect. The plaques may work better if you’re dealing with a larger system rather than a foot or hand.
Then, let it dry. Once it’s dry, you can offer it to the god with whatever words of prayers of thanks you feel appropriate.
Drawn or painted images would also be good media for this sort of offering. I’ve also dedicated writings to Asklepios in thanks for particular gifts of healing. Really, the sky is the limit. Asklepios is kind and good, he accepts all sincerely-made offerings.
The item pictured above is not available for sale right now–but I can make you one, or one like it featuring one of a number of other Egyptian gods!
This is a little different for my shop in that I don’t plan to offer these ready-made at this time but only by special order. This is in part because of the materials–the pendants are made using pre-made glass lockets and miniaturized reproductions of my own drawings of the Egyptian gods, which I will put together as the pieces are requested, so I won’t usually have ready-to-go finished pendants on hand.
That said, pictured below are pendants for Thoth and Bast, taken from either side to give you an idea of scale (so if what you want is a Thoth or Bast necklace, that I can do right away! :))
I consider these to be primarily wearable or decorative pieces; the glass pendants (1×1.6″ or 25.4×40.6mm) are wonderful but the edges are necessarily a little rough because of the hinge and closure mechanism (and according to the manufacturer they are not intended to be reopened/closed frequently but rather used to hold images permanently); because of this I probably wouldn’t recommend carrying it around all day in a purse or pocket although it would be fine in a desk drawer or similar spot. They are, needless to say, not waterproof, and being made from glass they are potentially breakable.
The beaded loop consists of 42 6mm gemstone beads of your choice (if I don’t have the stone you prefer in stock I can order it) and will be approximately 27″ (68.6cm) long. The pictured example piece does not have a clasp, but it can be made with either a lobster clasp or a magnetic closure.
The necklaces will be $55 for pieces made from most stones, although some stones may add a bit more to the price.
I can currently make pendant necklaces for the following Egyptian deities:
Amun; Anubis (Yinepu); Atum; Bast; Bes; Geb; Hathor (Het-hert); Heka; Heruakhety; Horus the Elder (Heru-Wer); Horus the Younger (Heru-sa-Aset); Isis (Aset); Khepera; Khnum; Khonsu; Ma’at; Maahes; Mafdet; Min; Montu; Meretseger; Mut; Nephthys (Nebt-het); Nefertem; Nekhbet; Nun; Nut; Osiris (Wesir); Ptah; Ra; Renenutet; Sekhmet; Serqet; Seshet; Set; Shu; Sobek; Sokar; Taweret (Tauret); Thoth (Djehuty); Tefnut; Wadjet; and Wepwawet.
Since the pendants are two-sided, you can also choose to have two different gods on the pendant–for example, Isis and Osiris, or Nekhbet and Wadjet who represented Upper and Lower Egypt respectively.
If you’re interested, contact me at my shop.
A pantheon, the way we usually use the term, is the group of gods worshipped by a culture. We can get some idea of a culture’s pantheon from its mythology, but it’s not a complete understanding, and it is often not the same understanding that we get from a study of the religious practice of the culture. Stories are one thing, custom is another. And in either case there can be a certain artificiality to a pantheon. The gods and their interrelationships are not limited by our conceptions of them; myth can help to provide deity with an overlay of humanity that can aid our understanding but it is necessarily an incomplete understanding. What is also true, however, is that a pantheon is not a modern construct but one that has existed for a very long time.
The Greeks
The Greek gods are arguably the best-known of ancient pagan deities and constitute a pantheon well documented by both myth and practice. Even so, their grouping is not as stable as, say, Edith Hamilton would lead us to think.
While there are a great number of Hellenic deities, the dodecatheon or primary group of twelve are those we think of first. In Athens and in many other places these were Zeus, Hera, Demeter, Poseidon, Athena, Aphrodite, Hermes, Artemis, Apollo, Ares, Hephaistos and Hestia (in Athens this grouping is first attested in the 6th century BC, although there is of course no way to know how long it existed before that).
But while the notion of a group of twelve gods was consistent throughout ancient Greece, the specifics could vary regionally. Hestia and/or Ares could have their places occupied by Hades, Dionysos and/or Heracles. In Pherai, a place was held by Themis rather than Hera as consort of Zeus, and another by Enodia who perhaps took the place of Artemis. At Olympia a radically different dodecatheon has been attested, including not only Zeus, Hera, Poseidon, Athena, Hermes, Apollo, Artemis and Dionysos but also Kronos, Rhea, the Charites (Graces) and the river god Alpheios.
(Of course you don’t have to limit your worship of the Greek gods to twelve, and you don’t have to include them in your worship if other less well-known deities call to you more strongly–it just shows how much even communities could vary in how they related to the gods.)
The mythic nature of the gods’ relationships to one another also varied. Aphrodite was the daughter of Zeus and Dione, except that she was also created from the blood of the castrated Ouranos when it fell into the sea and thus an older deity than Zeus himself. Eros was the child of Aphrodite, but he is also a much more ancient and primordial deity, self-created at the beginning of existence.
So while the Greeks clearly perceived their gods as interrelated and as part of an immortal community, the nature of those relationships was variable, and the mythology was neither linear nor consistent.
The Norse
What we know of the grouping of the Norse gods worshipped in Scandinavia comes mostly from myth, particularly the Elder (Poetic) and Younger (Prose) Eddas. That’s where we find the names of the gods, their attributes and what we know of their relationships. This literary evidence is not always supported by what is known about religious practice, either from historical writings (such as those of Tacitus or Adam of Bremen) or from archaeology. We do know that there was a temple at Uppsala, Sweden where Odin, Thor and Frey were worshipped, so we know that these gods can be said to have comprised a pantheon in practice.
All in all, though, there’s plenty of evidence to support dealing with the Norse gods as a related group. Modern heathens may disagree on who was, is, or should be considered a part of the Norse pantheon, but there is generally agreement on the fact that it existed.
There is also some disagreement on whether certain deities are in fact deities or merely manifestations of other deities. Frigga’s handmaidens (Saga, Eir, Gefjon, Fulla, Sjofn, Lofn, Var, Vor, Syn, Hlin, Snotra, Gna) are considered by some to be aspects of Frigga herself. It’s not a wholly unreasonable thought, since the Norse gods are known by more than one name (Odin in particular has so many that it’s hard to keep track of them all!).
Personally I am inclined to see them as separate, individual deities, partly because several of their number do in fact appear independently, partly because of my own natural polytheistic outlook, and partly because I feel that regardless of whether an entity is “God A Under A Different Name” or “Totally Different God B,” it’s only polite to use the name they provide because there is certainly a reason for it.
(Please note that this section is about the Norse gods specifically, not the Germanic deities in general or as a whole.)
The Celts
It is not really proper to speak of a “Celtic pantheon.” Just let me get that out there to start–it’s important to be regionally specific about the gods of the Celts, because there are great differences despite their sometimes being etymologically related.
While there is literary/mythological evidence grouping the gods of the insular Celts, this information is very much lacking with regard to the continental Celtic deities.
But let’s begin with what we know of Celtic myth. The gods of Ireland and other Gaelic lands, the Tuatha de Danann (including Brigid, Manannan, the Dagda and their relations), can probably be considered a group in that they were featured in some of the same stories. Likewise the gods of Wales. There is some question as to whether specific entities are deities or lesser beings (heroes and so forth), in part because those who wrote down the stories had a vested interest in this issue, but if you decide a pantheon exists based on whether the gods were perceived as a group, when it comes to the insular Celtic deities it seems that that may well have been so, although without direct historic or archaeological evidence of worship of specific deities there’s a certain level of supposition there as well.
When you get off of the islands (or into the Roman-occupied areas of the isles), however, the evidence for a Celtic pantheon is much less clear. The lack of a surviving mythology means that there is no evidence that most of the gods were seen as interrelated in any way. There are exceptions–according to Tacitus, the gods Esus, Taranis and Teutates were particularly honored among “the Celts.” And there are existing sites where more than one deity received offerings; often a male and female deity who seemed to be “paired” although it is not always clear whether they were considered consorts or were simply worshipped in the same place.
But although some of the continental Celtic deities were more widely worshipped than others (for example, the Matres–mothers–were worshipped over an incredibly broad area), that’s not to say that they comprised a pantheon in the same sense that we know there was a Greek pantheon. Regional and tribal variations existed and the gods worshipped in one place were very often entirely different from those worshipped in another.
So, short version–while it may be reasonable to talk about a Gaelic or Welsh Celtic pantheon, the same does not hold true for the Gaulish deities. You can certainly worship the gods of Gaul, but to call them a pantheon is almost surely inaccurate. It is, for example, unlikely that the British Sulis and the Iberian Endovelicus would have been worshipped side by side in the normal course of things, simply because they are gods who come from vastly different and distant regions.
Please note that I’m not saying that you can’t worship gods from different regions of Gaul. You can. Just recognize that they probably did not have an existing relationship with one another in ancient times.
It’s also good to keep in mind that nearly all of the archaeological evidence that lets us know who these gods were dates to the Roman occupation, the effects of which on the local religion are nearly impossible to know.
Why does this matter?
Whether this matters will depend on your own religious practice. So for you it may or may not matter (although I think it is always interesting to know these things).
I’m writing from the point of view of a multi-faith polytheist who tries to honor the gods in ways that are somewhat familiar to them. I feel like it’s the polite thing to do. I’m not a strict reconstructionist but I do rely on what I know of history to inform my practice. (It makes less of a difference, I find, in day-to-day household practices than it may with regard to larger or seasonal festivals.) That means that I generally try to worship the gods within their own cultural context. As (almost) always, YMMV.
There was variation in myth–many times there were several different versions of a god’s parentage or other characteristics. Was Aphrodite born of seafoam, born of the blood that fell into the sea whe Ouranos was castrated? Or is she the daughter of Zeus and Dione? In one sense it may not matter, Aphrodite is Aphrodite regardless and is always a part of the pantheon–but an Aphrodite who is older than the Olympians, who has no daughterly connection to the king of the gods, has a different relationship to the other gods and a different place among them.
There was variation in practice–think of Artemis. Almost everywhere, she is a young, unmarried woman, freely roaming the wilderness, a patron of beasts and/or hunters. In Ephesus, however, her iconography told a different tale–rather than the youthful goddess, bearing a bow, with her skirts tied up to facilitate running through the woods, we find a more maternal image, crowned, ornamented with a large number of what appears to be breasts. Again, both are Artemis, but each holds a somewhat different place.
What I see in a god, what I understand, what I perceive, may not be exactly what you see and understand and perceive. In part that is a caveat (for when you read what I write :)), but in part it is also an invitation.
The Scandinavian and the insular Celtic myths that we know were written down long ago, generally by people who were at best dispassionate and at worst antagonistic toward the beliefs those stories reflected. The tales in the Elder (Poetic) Edda were copied down by Christian monks–how much in them is an accurate transcription of what they knew or heard? (That said, how much did the stories change among those who believed during the pre-literate centuries?) In the Younger (Prose) Edda, Snorri’s intent was primarily the preservation of a literary form rather than its content, which provides a different set of difficulties. In both cases, however, the conversion had been recent enough that a certain amount of the Norse myth was maintained. The Celts were not quite so fortunate, and the Irish legends (and especially the Welsh ones) can be difficult to parse for religious content. The stories, however, are often still there.
In the Kalevala we have a comparatively modern (and comparatively well-documented) instance of surviving ancient tales making their way into the modern record.
The Finns of the time (like their Scandinavian neighbors) had not been pagan since the 12th century BCE or so. and by the mid-19th century any myths in their original form or forms had long disappeared. What still existed, however, was a long-standing tradition of story-singing in which one could hear echoes of the ancient Finnish pagan faith. This oral tradition existed for centuries, but by the 19th century the practice was dying out, and with it what was known of ancient myth.
We can thank Elias Lönnrott for the survival of much of what we know about Finnish folklore and myth, as he was the author of the Kalevala, the Finnish national epic poem. The 19th century in Europe was a time of political upheaval, of smaller and less powerful lands reacting to many years of having been occupied by larger and more aggressive nations; in the case of the Finns, the occupier was Russia (they did not declare their independence until 1917). One way in which the smaller lands, such as Hungary and Poland as well as Finland, asserted their identity was through their native folklore and myth. The Kalevala was an example of this–a reminder to Finns of their unique culture.
Lönnrott travelled far and wide throughout Finland, going from place to place, listening to the story-singers and writing down their tales. This research took years and resulted in a large body of work and a wide variety of songs (including many stories with more than one version depending on the region and the storyteller). It was an impressive feat and one which resulted in the survival of many stories and lore that otherwise would have been long lost.
With reference to Lönnrott I use the word “author” mindfully and with intent, because in assembling his poem he used enough poetic license that the work as a whole can be considered his creation. He sometimes combined characters (the Kalevala’s version of Lemminkainen, for example, includes characteristics of several other heroes as well), renamed them or created them out of whole cloth to be featured in existing tales (such as the unfortunate bride Aino, who is never named such in in the original songs).
This isn’t intended as a criticism of Lönnrott, by the way; while saving the stories was one of his goals, it was not the only one–and the creation of the Kalevala, Finland’s national epic poem, was itself a uniting force. What the Kalevala is not, however, is an accurate retelling of ancient Finnish myth or of the folktales that held its last remnants.
However, the wonderful thing about the Finnish stories is that we don’t only have Lönnrott’s final work to rely on. We also have his extensive records and transcriptions of the songs and stories he tracked down so long ago. We know much of what, in the Kalevala, is Lönnrott’s own work; we can tell when he changed things. We have the original 19th-century songs and you can actually go in and compare different versions of the same stories.
I absolutely recommend reading the Kalevala or any of the transcribed Finnish songs. The stories are wonderful, and the rhythm of the poetry is beautiful and unique.
References:
Kuusi, Matti, Ed. Trans. Keith Bosley. A Trail for Singers: Finnish Folk Poetry: Epic Finnish Literature Society: Helsinki, 1999.
Lönnrott, Elias. Trans. Keith Bosley. The Kalevala. Oxford University Press: London, 2009. Kindle edition.
Pentikäinen, Juha Y., Trans. Ritva Poom. Kalevala Mythology. 2nd ed. Indiana University Press: Bloomington, 1999.
We don’t know a lot, archaeologically or otherwise, about the religious practices of pre-Roman Celtic and Germanic tribes. Even with regard to god names we only have what the Roman writers happened to record. However, once the Romans were there, we start to see Roman-style altars, inscriptions, even temples dedicated to Celtic and Germanic deities.
Votive offerings
I’ve had a long-standing interest in votive offerings in general. A votive offering is one made to a deity or other spirit as a demonstration of reciprocity–it can be made in gratitude for blessings received or for the answering of a particular prayer. In some cases the offering to come is specified when the prayer is made (for example, “if I survive this battle, I will set up an altar in your honor”)–when the prayer is answered, the offering is made.
Votive offerings were an extremely common expression of devotion in ancient times; typically they were placed in temples or somewhere else they would be seen. The rich might make offerings of precious metals while the less fortunate multitudes most often left offerings made with clay; in either case these could represent the nature of the deity or of the prayer request–someone who prayed for a child might leave a votive figure in the shape of the mother goddess who granted that prayer, while someone who prayed for healing might leave a votive in the shape of the body part that was healed (temples of the healer god Asklepios were often filled with models of legs, hands, eyes, and so forth). The votive offering was not only an expression of gratitude, it was evidence of the god’s power, their ability and willingness to help those in need.
The concept of the votive offering is still with us. Probably the example we are most familiar with is the votive candle, lit in a church for a loved one who has died; in Central and South America a more direct descendant of the ancient practices exists in the milagro, a small charm which may be offered to a saint–there are milagros in the shape of arms, legs and other body parts which can be used as a part of prayers for healing.
Inscriptions
Often the inscriptions and dedications are fairly simple, and a common element included in many is ex voto, short for ex voto suscepto or “from the vow made”; in fact these sorts of offerings are sometimes referred to as ex-votos. Some examples of such offering inscriptions follow:
Deo Apollini Borvoni et Damonae, Caius Daminius Ferox, civis Lingonus, ex voto.
“To the god Apollo Borvo and to Damona, Caius Daminius Ferox, Lingones citizen, from the vow made.”
Marti Cicollui et Litavi L. Mattius Aeternus Ex voto
“To Mars Cicolluis and to Litavis, L. Mattius Aeternus, from the vow made.”
The somewhat more specific votive formula votum solvit libens merito, sometimes abbreviated as V.S.L.M., was commonly used on altars and inscriptions in Roman-held territories. It translates to “paid his/her vow willingly and deservedly. Examples follow:
Deo Marti Nodonti / Flavius Blandinus / armatura / votum s(olvit) l(ibens) m(erito)
“To the god Mars Nodens, Flavius Blandinus, weapons-instructor, paid his vow willingly and deservedly.”
Deo Borvoni et Damonae, Maturia Rustica votum solvit libens merito,
“To the god Borvo and to Damona. Maturia Rustica paid her vow willingly and deservedly.”
Deo Sucello Nantosuelt(a)e Bellausus Mass(a)e filius v(otum) s(olvit) l(ibens) m(erito).
“To the god Sucellus and Nantosuelta, Bellausus, son of Massa, paid his vow willingly and deservedly.”
Deae Ardbinnae Titus Iulius Aequalis vslm
“To the goddess Arduinna, Titus Julius Equalis paid his vow willingly and deservedly.”
(This reminds me a bit of the newspaper prayers you sometimes see in the Classifieds section, often to Saint Jude who is the patron of hopeless causes–of course since the ancients carved their prayers of thanks into stone, they are a bit more permanent!)
Why this is so great
What I love about this formula is how widely it was used and understood. It originated in Rome, but the Roman Empire grew quite large and this practice grew with it.
And I love it because every time you see an item or altar inscribed with VSLM or ex voto, you may not know the specifics of the situation but you know that someone prayed to a god and the god answered.
As a virgin goddess, she has no children.
Myths and Stories
Artemis shares her first story with her twin Apollo, her birth; in some versions of this tale, she is born first and even helps with her brother’s delivery.
In myth Artemis is not particularly friendly to mortals outside of those who are under her particular protection; in fact she can be deadly, and several of her myths have to do with her killing mortals who have somehow offended her. Along with her brother Apollo, she killed all of Niobe’s children when Niobe dared to compare her large brood to Leto’s two. She is also known to have slain several of her companions after they were seduced by Zeus.
Artemis is one of the three virgin goddesses, along with Hestia and Athena; Aphrodite has no power over her.
Names and Epithets
Artemis Agrotera (Artemis of the Hunt). Refers to Artemis as a patron goddess of hunters.
Artemis Genetyllis (Artemis of Births). Refers to Artemis’ role as a protector of childbirth.
Artemis Akraia (Artemis upon the Hill) Many of Artemis’ temples were outside the city walls, often atop a hill.
Festivals
Artemis was one of the most widely-worshipped and most ancient Hellenic deities. She was celebrated in a number of festivals, including the following:
Elaphebolia, a festival of Artemis Elaphebolios (deer hunter), when a stag was sacrificed to the goddess; when stags became too rare, pastry substitutes replaced this offering
Charisteria, a festival of thanksgiving to Artemis Agrotera (goddess of the hunt) and Enyalios (Ares)
Mounichia, when Artemis was offered small cakes similar to those offered to Hekate at crossroads.
She was also honored on the sixth day of each Greek month.
Symbols
Probably Artemis’ most important atribute is the bow and arrow. The bear and the deer were sacred to her; her chariot was said to be drawn by deer.
In ancient Greece, the process was closer to home, and there were a number of agricultural estivals, often devoted to Demeter and Persephone, associated with the growing season; the harvest festivals we now see most often would have been the last of these. The specific festivals celebrated would vary with the community, and of course since they were so closely tied to the agricultural year, climate and custom would also influence the time of year when they occurred.
Here I’ve chosen four different agricultural festivals held at different points during the agricultural season; they do not mirror the recorded practice of any one specific city or region, but rather reflect the growing season itself:
Now, unless you are a gardener or farmer, you may not feel a need to do more than simply honor and acknowledge the role of agriculture in our lives. If, on the other hand, you are someone who spends some time digging in the dirt, you may want to mark more than one aspect of the season at more than just one point.
In this post I’m including ritual scripts for both options. First, a general stand-alone Proerosia (in which the seed is mostly metaphorical); and second, a series of four festivals–the Proerosia, the Chloeia, the Antheia and the Kalamaia–intended to be celebrated by folks who keep a garden or otherwise maintain a direct personal connection with the cycle of growth, at specific points in your own growing season. The Greek festivals focused on the growth cycle of the wheat crop, but could also follow the growth of a household garden; when it comes to festival dates, let your garden be your guide.
(In the interest of full disclosure, I do not currently keep a garden so have not in fact personally done the four-part series of festivals. I have, however, done a fair amount of gardening in my life and can attest to the fact that the four points during the season in which the four festivals occur–preparation for planting, appearance of the first green shoots, flowering of the plants, and of course the harvest itself–are significant and notable.)
The ritual scripts are in PDF format; you’ll need Adobe or another PDF reader in order to read them.
Proerosia for urban folks and non-gardeners
Proerosia
Chloeia
Antheia
Kalamaia
Quite a few of the goddess triads had additional names as well, epithets sometimes referring to location or tribal affiliation. Whether these were considered to be separate sets of entities from one another is uncertain, but the iconography remained fairly consistent from group to group: three female figures, often accompanied by symbols of fertility, prosperity and abundance.
The Mothers are interesting in that they were worshipped by both Celtic and Germanic tribes; they are a good example of the fluidity of religious practice in the Gaulish and Germanic regions. Whether a particular set of Mothers is Celtic or Germanic can sometimes be determined linguistically although this isn’t always possible. To some extent you can say that most of the Matronae groups are centered in those areas occupied by Germanic tribes, particularly around the Rhine river, while the Matrae groups are usually located in Gaul and Britain, but there are exceptions to this rather loose rule, and in some areas you’ll find inscriptions to both the Matrae and the Matronae.
Myth
Unknown.
Cult
The Matrones received votive and dedicatory offerings from their worshippers; otherwise little is known of the specifics of their cult.
Etymology
The native name or names of the Matrones/Matres, if any, are unknown; the titles Matrae or Matronae are Latin for “mothers” and are Roman in origin.
The more specific names of the goddesses can be difficult to analyze etymologically, even as to whether they are Germanic or Celtic in origin.
Region
The Mothers were worshipped widely over ancient Gaul and Germania. Hundreds of inscriptions to the three goddesses have been found, spread over a large part of Europe, although there is a particularly strong center of worship in what is now eastern Germany and western France; the city of Cologne, Germany in particular was home to quite a few different sets of goddesses, both Matrae and Matronae.
What follows is a selection of the Matronae under more specific names, which may or may not refer to more specific entities.
Literary evidence
Unknown
Archaeological evidence
Andau, Austria (Matrae); Hoeilaart, Belgium (Matronae Cantrusteihae); Adel, Britain (Matrae); Aldborough, Britain (Matrae); Bath, Britain (Matrae Suleviae); Benwell, Britain (Matrae Campestris); Binchester, Britain (Matrae: Matrae Ollototae); Birdoswald, Britain (Matrae); Bowness-on-Solway, Britain (Matrae); Burgh-by-Sands, Britain (Matrae Domesticae); Carlisle, Britain (Matrae); Carrawburgh, Britain (Matrae); Carvoran, Britain (Matrae); Castlecary, Britain (Matrae); Castle Hill, Britain (Matrae Campestris); Castelsteads, Britain (Matrae); Chester, Britain (Matrae); Chesterholm, Britain (Matrae); Chichester, Britain (Matrae Domesticae); Cirencester, Britain (Matrae, Matrae Suleviae); Colchester, Britain (Matrae Suleviae); Cramond, Britain (Matrae Alatervae, Matrae Campestris); Daglingsworth, Britain (Matrae); Doncaster, Britain (Matrae); Gloster Hill, Britain (Matrae Campestris); Heronbridge, Britain (Matrae Ollototae); Housesteads, Britain (Matrae); Little Walsingham, Britain (Matrae); London, Britain (Matrae); Mumrills, Britain (Matrae); Newstead, Britain (Matrae Campestris); Newcastle upon Tyne, Britain (Matrae); Ribchester, Britain (Matrae); Rochester, Britain (Matrae); Skinburness, Britain (Matrae); Stanwis, Britain (Matrae, Matrae Domesticae); Winchester, Britain (Matrae Germanae); York, Britain (Matrae, Matrae Domesticae); Agones, France (Matrae Mogontiones); Aix-en-Provence, France (Matrae); Aix-les-Bains, France (Matrae Comedovae); Anduze, France (Matrae Mageiae); Bavay, France (Matronae Nervinae); Beire-le-Chatel, France (Matrae); Bellecombe, France (Matrae Baginatiae); Beziers, France (Matrae Menmandutiae); Bure la ville, France (Matrae); Carpentras, France (Matrae); Cimiez, France (Matronae Vediantiae); Collias, France (Matrae Suleviae); Curnier, France (Matrae); Grenoble, France (Matrae Nemetiales); Greoulx, France (Matrae Griselicae); Labeaume, France (Matrae); Lyons, France (Matronae Aufaniae); Maison-Meane, France (Matronae); Marquise, France (Matrae Suleviae); Marseille, France (Matrae); Metz, France (Matronae Senonae); Narbonne, France (Matrae); Nimes, France (Matrae Nemausicae); Rasteau, France (Matrae); Rogues, France (Matrae Vroicae); Sainte-Jalle, France (Matrae, Matrae Baginatiae); Saint-Remy-de-Provence, France (Matronae Glanicae, Matrae Rocloisiabo); Savoillan, France (Matrae); Strasbourg, France (Matrae Magiseniae, Matrae Suleviae); St. Zacharie, France (Matrae Ubelkabae); Vaison-la-Romaine, France (Matrae); Velleron, France (Matrae Suleviae); Venasque, France (Matrae Suleviae); Vienne-et-Val, France (Matrae Suleviae); Yvours-sur-le-Rhone, France (Matrae Eburnicae); Aachen, Germany (Matronae Vacallinehae); Abenden, Germany (Matronae) Allmendingen, Germany (Matrae, Matronae); Alzey, Germany (Matrae Suleviae); Altdorf, Germany (Matronae Alaferhuiaem, Matronae Hamaheviae); Andernach, Germany (Matrae); Antweiler, Germany (Matronae, Matronae Vacallinehae); Benzelrath, Germany (Matronae Mahalinae/Mahlinehae); Berkum, Germany (Matronae Atufrafinehae); Bettenhofen, Germany (Matronae Etrahenae, Matronae Gavadiae, Matronae Gesahenae); Billig, Germany (Matronae Chandrumanehae); Bingen, Germany (Matrae Suleviae); Birten, Germany (Matrae Treverae); Blankenheim, Germany (Matronae Ahinehiae, Matronae Teniavehae); Boeckingen, Germany (Matronae Senonae); Boich, Germany (Matronae Textumeihae); Bonn, Germany (Matrae, Matronae Alaferhuiae, Matronae Amartninehae, Matronae Ambiamarcae, Matronae Amfratninehae, Matronae Andrustehiae, Matronae Aufaniae, Matronae Austriahenae, Matronae Ineae, Matronae Renahenae, Matronae Romanehae); Bornheim, Germany (Matronae Gabinae); Bromheim, Germany (Matronae Romanehae); Burgel, Germany (Matronae Alagabiae, Matronae Aufaniae, Matronae Aviaitinehae, Matronae Romanehae); Cologne, Germany (Matrae, Matronae, Matronae Afliae, Matronae Ambiamarcae, Matronae Andrustehiae, Matronae Aufaniae, Matronae Axsinginehae, Matronae Boudunnehae, Matronae Euthungae, Matronae Fernovinehae, Matronae Gabiae, Matronae Gantunae, Matrae Germanae, Matronae Gesahenae, Matrae Kannanefates, Matronae Lubicae, Matronae Mahalinae/Mahlinehae, Matronae Malvisae, Matronae Masanae, Matrae Mediotautehae, Matrae Remae, Matrae Suebae, Matres Suleviae, Matronae Udravarinehae, Matronae Vallabnaehiae); Commern, Germany (Matronae, Matronae Aufaniae); Derichsweiler, Germany (Matronae Alusneihae); Deutz, Germany (Matronae Abirenae, Matronae Ambioreneses, Matronae Gesahenae, Matronae Mahalinae/Mahlinehae, Matrae Suebae); Dormagen, Germany (Matronae Alaferhuiae); Duren, Germany (Matronae Turstuahenae); Embken, Germany (Matronae Vataranehae); Endenich, Germany (Matronae Vacallinehae); Enzen, Germany (Matronae Hiheraiae); Erfstadt Friesheim, Germany (Matronae Vanginehae); Eschweiler, Germany (Matronae); Euskirchen, Germany (Matronae Caimineae, Matronae Fachineae, Matronae Gratichae, Matronae Ratheihiae, Matronae Romanehae, Matronae Seccanahae); Floisdorf, Germany (Matronae Abiamarcae, Matronae Textumeihae); Friedberg, Germany (Matronae); Gellep, Germany (Matronae Octocannae); Gerennsweiler, Germany (Matronae Berguiahenae); Gleuel, Germany (Matronae Ahueccanae); Godesberg, Germany (Matronae Andrustehiae); Greifswald, Germany (Matronae); Gusten, Germany (Matronae Vatviae); Hasselsweiler, Germany (Matronae Vatviae); Hermulheim, Germany (Matronae Audrinehae); Hoven, Germany (Matronae Saitchamiae); Inden-Pier, Germany (Matronae Alusneihae); Iulich, Germany (Matronae Aufaniae, Matronae Gabiae, Matronae Gavadiae, Matronae Nersihenae, Matronae Romanehae, Matronae Vacallinehae, Matronae Vatviae); Iversheim, Germany (Matronae Vacallinehae); Kirchheim, Germany (Matronae Gabiae); Krefeld, Germany (Matronae Octocannae); Ladenburg, Germany (Matrae, Matrae Suleviae); Lechenich, Germany (Matronae Lanehiae); Lessenich, Germany (Matronae Vacallinehae); Linnich, Germany (Matronae); Lipp, Germany (Matronae Vatviae); Mainz, Germany (Matronae, Matronae Aufaniae, Matrae Ollogabiae); Meckenheim, Germany (Matronae Fernovinehae); Merzenich, Germany (Matronae Channihae or Chuchenehae, Matronae Havae) Morken-Harff, Germany (Matrae, Matronae, Matronae Austriahenae, Matronae Vatviae); Muddersheim, Germany (Matronae Arvagastae, Matronae Gabiae); Munchen-Gladbach, Germany (Matronae Gavadiae); Muntz, Germany (Matronae Iulineihiae); Nassenfels, Germany (Matrae Suleviae); Nettersheim, Germany (Matronae Aufaniae); Neuss, Germany (Neuss); Nideggen-Abenden, Germany (Matronae Vataranehae); Niedenstein, Germany (Matronae Alhiahenae); Niedernberg, Germany (Matrae Vagionae); Nieukerk, Germany (Matronae Malvisae); Ober-Elvenich, Germany (Matronae Albiahenae); Odendorf, Germany (Matronae Aserecinehae); Odenhausen, Germany (Matronae Aserecinehae); Patteren, Germany (Matronae Alaferhuiae); Pesch, Germany (Matrae, Matronae, Matronae Etrahenae, Matronae Vacallinehae); Pommern, Germany (Matronae Aufaniae); Remagen, Germany (Matronae, Matronae Ambiamarcae); Rheydt, Germany (Matronae Cantrusteihae); Roedingen, Germany (Matronae Etrahenae, Matronae Gavadiae, Matronae Gesahenae, Matronae Vatviae); Rohr, Germany (Matronae Gabiae); Rommerskirchen, Germany (Matronae Romanehae, Matronae Vataranehae); Rovenich, Germany (Matronae Gabiae); Salzvey, Germany (Matronae Vacallinehae); Sinzenich, Germany (Matronae Tummaestiae); Soller, Germany (Matronae Textumeihae);Tetz, Germany (Matronae Berguiahenae, Matronae Cantrusteihae); Thorr, Germany (Matronae Almaviahenae, Matronae Amnesahenae, Matronae Gavadiae, Matronae Naitienae, Matronae Udravarinehae, Matronae Vanamianehae); Trier, Germany (Matronae, Matrae Suleviae, Matronae Xulsigiae); Vettweis, Germany (Matronae Turstuahenae, Matronae Vesuniahenae); Weilerswist, Germany (Matronae Romanehae); Wesseling, Germany (Matronae Afliae); Wissen, Germany (Matrae Frisavae); Wollersheim, Germany (Matronae Vataranehae); Xanten, Germany (Matronae, Matrae Annaneptae, Matronae Aufaniae, Matronae Gabiae, Matrae Marsacae, Matrae Suleviae); Zingsheim, Germany (Matronae, Matronae Fachineae); Zulpich, Germany (Matronae Anesaminehae, Matronae Aufaniae, Matronae Channihae or Chuchenehae, Matronae Ulauhinehae, Matronae Vesuniahenae); Budapest, Hungary (Matrae Suleviae); Albenga, Italy (Matronae); Angera, Italy (Matronae); Arcisate, Italy (Matronae); Bene Vagienna, Italy (Matronae); Borgomanero, Italy (Matronae); Borgo San Dalmazzo, Italy (Matronae); Brebbia, Italy (Matronae); Brescia, Italy (Matronae, Matronae Dervonnae); Brienno, Italy (Matronae); Cantu, Italy (Matronae); Casalvolone, Italy (Matronae); Dormelletto, Italy (Matronae); Fino Mornasco, Italy (Matronae); Foresto, Italy (Matronae); Lomazzo, Italy (Matronae); Manerbio, Italy (Matronae); Milan, Italy (Matronae, Matronae Dervonnae); Rosate, Italy (Matronae); Rome, Italy (Matrae Suleviae); Serravalle Scrivia, Italy (Matronae); Susa, Italy (Matronae); Vercelli, Italy (Matronae); Vimercate, Italy (Matronae); Zuglio, Italy (Matronae); Nimwegen, Netherlands (Matrae, Matronae Aufaniae, Matrae Mopates, Matrae Suleviae); Utrecht, Netherlands (Matrae Noricae); Freixo, Portutal (Matrae); Karlsburg, Romania (Matrae Suleviae); Carmona, Spain (Matronae Aufaniae); Duraton, Spain (Matrae); Palencia, Spain (Matrae Duilliae); Penalba de Castro, Spain (Matrae, Matrae Brigaecae); River Rhine (Matrae Vapthiae)
Key:
Blue – Matrae with no epithet
Dark blue – Matrae with various epithets
Red – Matronae with no epithet
Dark red – Matronae with various epithets
When you’re researching gods with little or no literary trail, such as the continental Celtic and Germanic deities, you’re often limited to what has been found in the archaeological record. If you’re lucky there will be statues, votive offerings, and inscriptions with some detail, but sometimes all you’ve got is a name, in which case you may be limited to trying to parse the etymology. None of this is all that easy, and most of it is going to be subject to interpretation.
Here I’m just going to put down a few of my own thoughts on this process and things to keep in mind, in no particular order.
Probably the best known sources of ancient Greek hymns and prayers are the Homeric Hymns and the Orphic Hymns, both of which have been collected and made available in a number of different translations. They are lovely and there are quite a few of them, so here I’m going to provide just a little context.
The Homeric Hymns
The 34 Homeric hymns were not (as is often assumed) written by the Homer who is said to have authored the Iliad and the Odyssey during the 8th century BCE, although many are believed to have been written not long after those epics in the 7th and 6th century BCE, while others appeared hundreds of years later. They are called “Homeric” because they use the same poetic metre.
Some are very brief (as short as 3 lines) while others are quite lengthy, ranging from 293 to 580 lines. The shorter ones tend to be prayers of praise while the longer ones often include the telling of myths of the gods. They are believed to have been used to introduce longer pieces (or, in the case of longer hymns, as stand-alone works) during performances and competitions.
What that means is that these prayers were intended for an audience, not generally for use in what we would consider a religious context, and certainly not for use in personal prayer. That doesn’t mean that we can’t use them that way–just that it’s something to keep in mind. The shorter prayers in particular are often a lovely choice.
The Orphic Hymns
By contrast, the 87 Orphic Hymns were not only written for religious use but in a very specific religious context–that of Orphism, a mystery religion practiced as early as the 5th century BCE.
They are quite beautiful (I am especially fond of the Orphic hymn to Athena); they also come with incense recommendations for each, which underlines the religious context.
The Orphic hymns reflect the Orphic religion; they thus include prayers to gods not a part of the “mainstream” Greek religion, as well as references to a specifically Orphic mythology that diverged from what we may be familiar with in a number of ways.
What this means is that while we can certainly use Orphic hymns in our own worship even if we don’t subscribe to that particular belief system, it’s probably a good idea to learn a bit about the Orphic religion first because some of what is in the hymns does have a different meaning in the Orphic context.
To be continued!
1. They are personal.
When you write a prayer to your gods, you write it from your own point of view. It will reflect the relationship between you and the deity, and you can say things with it that just wouldn’t be there in a piece written by someone else. It can be as subtle or as direct as you want it to be.
2. They are unique.
The prayers that you write are new to the world and to the gods. The words you speak heve never been spoken before. The gods have never heard them before. A prayer you write is an entirely brand-new creation!
3. They add to the accumulated honors paid to the gods.
The gods may not need our praise and recognition, but I think that most of them like it. And I think that we need it, not just on a personal level but as a community–the more we give to the gods, the more we love and worship them, the more we are all enriched.
4. They (may) add to the resources available to the community.
You don’t have to make your writings available to others, either widely in public or on a one-on-one basis. Most people don’t. The gods receive and are honored by them regardless. But if you do choose to share your writings with others, it is a real gift to the community.
5. You learn so much!
There’s something about the act of writing that brings understanding. It is rare that I come out of a writing session without some insight into the nature of the god or gods I am writing for; writing, to me, is not only a devotional act but one that connects me to the gods like little else can.
* My prayer blogs are online and include writings for Greek, Celtic, and Norse gods.
Because everyone can’t do everything. Everyone can’t know everything. They can’t, and they shouldn’t have to.
You’ve probably heard the phrase “it’s the religion with homework.” That’s not inherently a bad thing–I am certainly a fan of research and study and learning about the things that are important to you–but it is a thing that can keep people from approaching the gods.
Not everyone has the time or the resources or the wherewithal to engage in intense study. And they shouldn’t have to, to honor the gods.
Not everyone has the ability to devote huge chunks of their lives to their religion. And they shouldn’t have to, to honor the gods.
I used to see on various forums, when a new someone would come in and ask a question, many people reply abruptly with “Read the Eddas/Iliad/Mabinogion/etc.!” And while that’s in a way understandable (“I did the work, you can too.” “If you really want it, you’ll go the extra mile.”) it is, to me, unwelcoming.
The polytheistic faiths are not evangelistic paths, we are not (generally) active seekers of new adherents, but I don’t think it’s useful or necessary to make it more difficult than it already is for the new person. Why set up obstacles? No, we don’t owe it to anyone to spoon-feed or hand-hold, but to offer a little help isn’t that.
So, you know what? I love research and reading. I enjoy it. It’s fun. Not everyone is me. (One is enough. :)) I like comparing sources and pulling them together. And I like to write. So, this blog, where I try to take what I’ve learned and make it more accessible.
I also write prayers, which comes from a different bit of background and a less clear-cut mental place, but even there I am doing it as a maker of useful things, a provider of practical and usable information.
It’s also, for me, something I do to honor the gods. Making it easier for others to approach them, learn about them, worship them, that’s a part of what I feel called on to do as a part of my own path. Taking information that may be difficult to access and making it available, to me that feels important.
Because you shouldn’t have to be a scholar to worship the gods. You shouldn’t have to be a student or a mystic or a poet or a priest. You should be able to be just an average person with a busy life who wants to connect with the deities in whatever way they are able, and you shouldn’t be made to feel bad about it because you lack the time or the resources or the wherewithal.
Since I realized that I’m not the only one in this situation, I’ve decided to add Goddess Prayer Beads to my shop.
These are meant not only for those who honor an unnamed or unknown goddess, but for those who honor a nonspecific or single Goddess for any reason, and for those who honor the feminine divine.
I plan to include a variety of goddess-image types because I know that Mother Earth isn’t the only such connection, but I’m starting here because it’s in my comfort zone. If you’re interested in these, and you relate best to a different sort of goddess-image, please let me know and I can try to find something more appropriate (for example, I’m currently looking for a lunar-goddess image, but have not as yet found “the one” :)).
This makes sense, honestly, for me as someone who lives a good way away from the regions my gods first made themselves known. I’m similarly interested in the ways that communities introduce new gods, and the ways that deities accompany colonists to a new region. Gods and their migrations is clearly a topic of some interest.
A lot of what little we know about the gods of Gaul and (apart from Ireland and Wales, where a mythic literature survives) Britain is based on archaeology and linguistics. What this means is that much of our knowledge is dependent on what has survived and been discovered in and on the ground, usually in the form of imagery and (Latin) text inscriptions. This included not only temples (some gods had several, most had none that survived) but also such things as votive offerings which might have inscribed on them the name of the deity receiving them, altars raised in fulfillment of a vow made to a particular deity, and place-names that appear to honor a deity or indicate the presence of a worship site. Sometimes the linguistic and archaological evidence doesn’t match up–for example, the goddess Nantosuelta’s name would indicate a river connection but her strong association with symbols of abundance and prosperity (along with her large number of likely worship sites) suggests that she is far more than a river spirit. It may be that other gods we are familiar with from fewer sources originally had a wider range of associations than we know of as well.
In some cases a god was known across a wide geographical area. Epona was one such–the Romans themselves adopted her and there is, uniquely, evidence of her worship in Rome itself–but other gods were known in different regions as well, such as Belenos, Sirona, or Rosmerta. Others were most well-known in a particular area–for example, as goddess of the river Seine, Sequana tended to be worshipped most often near that river. Still others, tribal deities, have been attested primarily in regions where those tribes existed, although tribal territories sometimes moved and their gods did likewise. There are also gods we know of only from a single inscription or other archaeological find.
Here I’m going to talk a bit about Rome. I’m not myself (at least at this point in time–I’ve learned over the years to never say never) a follower of the Roman gods. Partly this is a conscious choice in that the Romans were very particular and detail-oriented about their worship, and I don’t think I’m personally a good match for that sort of system; partly I suspect it’s because I am already so connected with the Greek gods, and the Greek and Roman pantheons have a very complex relationship.
But about Rome. The Romans were travelers, that is one way to put it. On their travels they encountered many people, and along with these people they encountered their gods. And when it came to gods, the Romans had this thing called the interpretatio romano, which means, essentially, that they saw the gods they encountered as being their own Roman gods under different names. So if they ran across a Celtic god who was a healer, they figured that he was Apollo; if they found a war god, they assumed he was Mars, and so forth. So, Apollo Grannus is the Celtic god Grannus by way of the interpretatio romano. Mars Leucetius is the deity formerly known as Leucetius. And so on. (So, if this is the way your polytheism rolls, there is certainly precedent for it. :))
This was more common with male deities, although sometimes a Celtic goddess was associated with a Roman one (such as Sulis Minerva, patron goddess of the healing springs of what we now know as Bath). But often the Romans would take a Celtic deity couple, such as Borvo and Damona, and only the male deity would be given a Roman name to add on–thus, at some sites Borvo might become Apollo Borvo while Damona remained simply Damona.
To some extent the interpretatio romana is helpful to us in that it provides a bit of context that would otherwise be missing, since we lack a lot of information on Gaulish gods; knowing that, say, the Celtic Cissonius was known to the Romans as Mercury Cissonius lets us know that the Romans believed that Cissonius had something in common with the Roman god Mercury. On the other hand, we have no way of knowing exactly why the Romans thought that Cissonius was Mercury–Mercury has many associations including commerce, communication, and travel, and we don’t know which of these attributes may also have applied to Cissonius.
On the other other hand, it’s certainly arguable that becoming identified with Mercury made some changes to Cissonius’ character, and that Mercury Cissonius was a subtly different entity (or, at least, took a different role) than the “original” Cissonius. But that’s not quite what I meant to write about here, so I’ll let it pass for now.
Another thing the Romans did on their travels was grow their empire. Over the centuries the Roman Empire expanded from Rome itself all the way to Britain, on the way taking over great parts of Gaul, adding their lands to the Roman territories, and taking their citizens as part of their army.
These Gaulish soldiers took their own gods along with them when they travelled with the Roman army to other parts of the Roman Empire. Thus, when we have evidence of gods being worshipped in a variety of regions, we don’t necessarily know how that came to be, although in some cases (for example, when a god known to exist in what is now Germany is also attested at a Roman military site in northern Britain) it does seem to indicate that a soldier may have brought his gods along with him to his new posting.
So the issue here, for me, isn’t whether a god can move from one geographic region to another. Clearly there is evidence that the ancients believed that they could. It’s more a matter of how this happens–and of what happens when a god who was once strongly associated with a place is honored in a different place. For example, it seems likely that a healer goddess retains that ability whether or not she is called on at her own healing springs–the British Coventina, known for a spring near Hadrian’s Wall, is also attested in what is now France and Spain.
My own sense is that gods may begin as gods of place, but they don’t necessarily stay that way.
On a tangentially-related note, like a lot of kids, I grew up with rocks. Rocks in the field, rocks on the beach. From an early age I collected them, brought them home, played with them, seeing which rocks I could write with and which rocks were best to be written on.
Which brings me, in a round-about way, to my first point. The Mohs scale is a very old and very traditional way of determining and measuring the hardness of minerals. (The ancient Greeks and Romans knew it, although they did not call it by that name.) Basically it involves putting two minerals together and seeing which will scratch which–that which is scratchable being the softer of the two. The Mohs scale ranges from 1 to 10, ten being the hardest; a diamond has a Mohs score of 10 while talc has a score of 1. To put it another way, you can scratch talc with your fingernails, while a diamond can scratch almost anything else in your jewelry box because it is the hardest stone in there.
Speaking of stone and stones, I sometimes find myself in old cemeteries. These days most grave markers are made from granite, but a long time ago they were more typically made from marble. Well, marble may be prettier but granite is harder. Old marble tombstones are often weathered and worn, the text is difficult to read, the corners are rounded by the many years of rain and wind.
The point is, some rocks and minerals are harder than others, and the same can be said of our polytheisms.
I am not a diamond-hard polytheist, nor am I easily crumbled between two fingers. Sometimes I might be a bit like granite, other times I am more easily weathered by the encounters I have had.
Less ideally but perhaps more frequently, we sometimes do things without that full awareness, particularly things that we do often.
Like when you’re driving along a route you often drive and suddenly realize that while you did indeed end up where you intended to go, you don’t in fact remember this specific trip. You were, for lack of a better term, on autopilot. Maybe you were daydreaming, maybe you don’t even remember what you were thinking about, but in any case you weren’t quite all there on your journey.
Or like when you’re reading a book, and suddenly notice that you’ve just read a page and a half with no idea whatsoever of what you read and you have to read it again.
Maybe you’re tired. Or distracted. Or preoccupied. Or nervous. Or worried. Maybe it’s one of those times when your brain insists of going in one particular direction regardless of what you ought to be (or want to be) thinking or doing instead. Maybe it only happens on rare occasions. Maybe it is an ongoing effort to hold your focus steady.
And yes, prayer and devotion is something that, ideally, is done mindfully and with full awareness. It’s something you want to be fully present for. Ideally.
It’s something I struggle with on a regular basis. Keeping focused on prayer can be hard, is hard. My mind wanders, it goes everywhere except where I want it to be. Irrelevant thoughts intrude, they sometimes overwhelm the thoughts I mean to be having.
And I’ll find myself well into my devotional routine, just as when I am driving a familiar route, knowing where I am but also knowing that I haven’t really been paying attention to what I was saying. And there I am, two and a half prayers later and not remembering having prayed those prayers, although surely I did, surely the words were there, the names of the gods were there, they passed through my mind but I wasn’t watching when they did.
And while I try to do better, I eventually had to become okay with this.
Partly this is a matter of simply not letting the perfect be the enemy of the good. If the only acceptable devotions were those that were perfect–that were done with perfect and complete concentration, with no brain-flutters off in random directions whatsoever? I would have given up on the whole deal years ago.
Partly, though, it is a matter of recognizing the inherent worth of the imperfect, on its own, as it is. The prayers are said. The gods hear them. The names of the gods echo in my mind, regardless of how much conscious awareness I have of it. The words of devotion are spoken and meant, regardless of how much conscious intent is in the act.
I was dual-faith from early on (Hellenic and Norse), but since I now honor gods from four different pantheons, I have amended that to “multi-faith.”
Some of the changes are purely practical. I don’t spend as much time studying because there are fewer books and sources left to study. I do still study, but I know the basics, am familiar with the lore, and am comfortable with ritual and other practices, so some of that work has simply been done already.
When my kids were little, I used my shower time to pray and do simple daily devotions, because it was often the only time during the day that I could count on being left alone with my own thoughts. I assumed that this would change eventually, but they are young adults now and guess what? I still pray in the shower. It works. I don’t only pray in the shower, but I have kept that piece of my practice.
I used to do a lot more group work than I do now (mostly because of personal and health stuff that makes it harder to do that sort of thing). But I used to attend a lot of rituals. I used to write and to lead a lot of rituals, heathen for the most part because that’s the irl group connection I’ve had. I’ve had training for it, which I undertook because our group needed someone to do it. These days, though, I am more of a resource than an active leader, which is a change.
Doing less group work has meant (for me) a lessened focus on festivals and following the calendar and a greater focus on smaller personal devotions and worship. I think I have personalized my practice more since it’s just me now, but less so than I would have expected. I’ve kept the things that (still) work and changed the things that don’t.
I used to do a lot of networking, seeking out and meeting other pagans and polytheists locally, attending Pagan Coffee Nights and so forth. I don’t do much of that anymore.
Similarly, the fact that I no longer travel well means that I no longer go to events far from home. That means a decrease in face-to-face interactions with others, which is certainly an additional change in the role community plays for me.
I do, however, still have online connections with others, which is a different sort of community but community nonetheless.
I also used to incorporate more meditation and visualization work in my practice than I do now (again mostly due to the aforementioned “stuff” and the accompanying lack of focus). It never was easy work for me but it was rewarding, and I hope at some point to be able to do it again. Until then, I have the experiences I’ve had and the knowledge I’ve gained, and that has to be enough.
In many cases, existing Celtic myths don’t identify deities as deities at all, and it can be hard to know the original fact of the matter.
So, Blodeuwedd. Known primarily as the bride of the hero Lleu Llaw Gyffes, her name means “flower-face” and she was in fact created from flowers and herbs. Lleu, you see, was under a curse–he was prohibited from taking any human woman as wife. For this reason, his magician uncle Gwydion and his magician great-uncle Math took oak and broom and meadowsweet and made from them the beautiful Blodeuwedd–who, not being human, was not subject to Lleu’s curse. Their marriage, however, was not a happy one and Blodeuwedd took a lover, with whom she plotted to kill Lleu. The plot fails and, as punishment for her faithlessness, Gwydion turns her into an owl. Seems pretty straightforward, right?
But I have a lot of sympathy for Blodeuwedd, honestly. She only existed in order to become the wife of Lleu. That is why she was made. She had no choice in the matter. She had no allies, no family, no friend, no one to take her side. She came into existence, fully grown. No one had ever thought of her as anything but a means to an end, cared for her for her own sake, or given any consideration to what she might want from her life. And then someone came along who might perhaps have thought of her as a person, an individual with her own identity and autonomy–things no one had ever thought her worthy of, or capable of.
It’s understandable. It’s relatable.
To me, that’s the bigger message behind the story of Blodeuwedd. The importance of knowing one’s own value, the importance of having one’s own will.
I actually tend to apply that principle across the board in my life. First time I make a new recipe, I follow it to the letter. I may (and probably will) make changes when and if I make it again, but on that first attempt I want to know that what I am making is as expected. When I know how it is meant to turn out, I can do things differently and see what effect that has.
And yes, this also informs my approach to my religious practice. If there is an established way of doing something, I will probably try that first. If it doesn’t work for me, I can make changes, tweak it to see if it’s adaptable, or try something wholly different.
Briefly, I try the tried-and-true, and if the tried-and-true isn’t true for me, I try something else.
I genuinely like the idea of organizations that promote pagan and polytheist religion, that provide resources and information and training and community and networking. I think it’s a good thing and I like to support it, and sometimes support means becoming a member.
In the past I’ve been more active in groups, taking on volunteer positions or participating in forums. Right now I don’t do a lot of that, due to personal stuff, but I still maintain my memberships because even if I can’t be an active member, I can be a supportive member.
You can absolutely have a rich and rewarding spiritual life all on your own, and you can certainly do so without ever joining anything. And there are plenty of places where you can find an informal community–again, without ever joining anything. You don’t have to affiliate with a faith group to practice your faith.
But if you do decide to join something, do a bit of research first–there are a lot of groups out there. Some are good and some are not so good, so pay attention to what you find.
Read the group’s website, even the boring bits.
Read the “About” page if they have one, and their FAQ.
Take note of any mission statement, vision statement, or list of principles or values.
Look over their bylaws. How is power handled within the organization? Look at things like member voting rules and officer positions, terms and responsibilities. Are there requirements for membership that you cannot comply with or that you disagree with?
Some groups will have incorporated as a non-profit organization, and if they have there may be financial statements available. This may or may not be important to you.
On a related note, most groups will tell you what membership fees (if any) are used for.
A group doesn’t have to be a perfect fit for you (or vice versa) but it shouldn’t promote ethical principles you are opposed to. Generally a group will have some statement defining its position on race, ethnicity, gender, sexual identity and orientation and so forth, and you’ll want to look at that.
Most groups with an online presence have online discussion forums of some sort, whether these are email lists or web forums. Some groups have regular chats. The option of online participation in the group may or may not be important to you, and if it is, take note of what is available.
Some groups have real-world gatherings and/or subgroups–if this is important to you, see if there are any in existence near you.
If you are hoping to learn, see if there are classes or other religious training offered and what form these may take.
If the group has a public forum or Facebook page (some do, some don’t), check it out to get a feel for the discourse there and what is considered acceptable behavior. Different groups will have different customs.
Finally, and if you have additional questions, there will almost always be a contact form or email address provided. Try not to be too impatient–these are volunteer-run organizations and an immediate response isn’t guaranteed. On the other hand, if you don’t hear anything for a very long time, it can be an indication that the group itself isn’t all that active, which is also good to know.
If you say your prayer silently, in your head, it will be heard.
If you say your prayer standing or kneeling or lying motionless at your altar, it will be heard.
If you say your prayer while you wash the dishes or fold the laundry, it will be heard.
If you say your prayer slowly and mindfully, each word hanging in your mind like a leaf on a tree, it will be heard.
If you say your prayer quickly, with the words racing through your head so fast you are barely aware of them, it will be heard.
If you say your prayer calmly, with precision and measured meaning, it will be heard.
If you say your prayer desperately or in a panic, with no sense or coherence, it will be heard.
The gods will hear you when you call, they will listen when you pray.
So I will skim over the initial set-up discussion. You’ve got your flat space, you’ve got your statues or other god-images (or not), you’ve got candles maybe, offering bowls possibly. Perhaps an incense burner, divination tools, prayer book? And as time goes by, little gifts for the god or gods you honor at the altar. So, various altar stuff. Voila and well done! But if you’re using the altar at all, you will have to do some maintenance on it eventually.
Basic cleaning and dust removal. Statues tend to have lots of little ins and outs, nooks and crannies that tend to gather dust. You can wash some statues with water, but not all (as I and my favorite Hermes statue know from experience). I generally like to dust with a soft cloth, and I’ve come to really like those disposable Swiffer Duster things. (I don’t do this nearly often enough but I am always glad when I do it.)
The more items on the altar, the longer this will take.
Offerings of food and drink. If you’re offering food, or libations of wine, juice, milk, anything but water, then you’ll want to wash your offering bowls or cups after every use.
If you have a pest problem (no judgment there, in some seasons and in some regions this is unavoidable) you won’t want to leave food offerings out for too long, and you may want to cover liquid offerings to keep bugs and spiders out. Keep your climate in mind–don’t leave an offering of milk out too long in the heat, for example.
Altar cloths. I am actually torn on the subject of altar cloths. On the one hand, I have a lot of them, many of which I hand-knit in different colors (love those ombre yarns!). They can really pull an altar together and give it a more finished look; they are also a wonderful way to add some color symbolism to your altar or shrine.
That said, I really only use altar cloths for temporary altars I set up for rituals. For a permanent altar or shrine, I prefer a bare surface. This is at least in part because of the dust-gathering factor but it’s also because I like a more general-purpose look on a permanent altar.
Candles. Always assume that your candles will drip. Always assume that the drips will overflow the candle holder and onto the altar itself.
To get wax out of an altar cloth, everyone has their own favorite method. I like to stick it in the freezer and remove it once the wax has had a chance to harden (although with a textured altar cloth–like my hand-knit ones–even this is not a guaranteed success). Also keep in mind that a colored candle may leave a stain on the cloth even if you are able to get all the wax out.
I like to use a “candle coaster” sometimes, just a jar lid turned upside down, that can contain the drips. If I’m planning to burn a candle down entirely I’ll put it in a cauldron or other larger container.
Let the candle cool before you pick it up. I’ve had my hands bathed on numerous occasions with liquid wax from pillars, votives and tea lights, and ow.
Incense. I don’t use a lot of incense because there are folks in my household with a sensitivity to scent, but I do use it occasionally as an offering.
I like pressed Japanese incense that comes in sticks entirely made of incense. I like it because you can break it into smaller pieces and it burns just fine even if you don’t want to use the whole stick at once, which is nice if you are on a budget or if you’re doing a brief ritual.
I don’t have the fire-making talent to use granular or resin incenses, but you can get some nice traditional incenses (frankincense, myrrh, etc.) to use on charcoal.
You’ll probably want to clean out your incense burner after every use, or at least empty it out. Otherwise you’re likely to get a faceful of ashes the next time you pick it up (or maybe that’s just me :)).
You won’t typically see him in myth, or listed among the gods of a city, but he had a very important part in household worship in ancient times and received a libation of unmixed (unwatered, full-strength) wine after the main meal of the day. He was honored as well at feasts and symposiums where he received libations. On a larger scale, he traditionally received offerings on the second day of the month.
He was usually represented in the form of a snake, although sometimes he was depicted as a young man, carrying a cornucopia or other symbol of abundance.
It is proper, but actually not entirely accurate, to speak of “the Agathos Daimon” because it refers to a category of spirit unique to each individual or household. Your Agathos Daimon is not quite the same entity as your neighbor’s; each has essentially the same powers and duties but will exercise them as appropriate for the needs and circumstances of their household.
So when you pray or offer to Agathos Daimon, you are dealing with your good spirit who has your own best interests at heart. It is appropriate to pray to him for many sorts of blessings–prosperity, protection, health, fertility, abundance and plain old good luck–and it is good to maintain a strong relationship with him.
In the broader culture, oaths are significant in part for their rarity–if you marry, the ceremony will likely include an oath, and if you are called on to appear in court you will swear one, as you will if you take on a public (or, sometimes, a private) office. It is kind of a big deal, not least because most of us will only do it on occasion, if ever.
In ancient Greece, though, oaths were a commoner occurance. There was even a god, Horkos, whose main calling was the swearing of oaths. And the breaking of oaths was a severe enough offense that Zeus himself would exercise his wrath against the oathbreaker. In other words, for the ancients, oaths were definitely a significant matter. The Delphic maxims warned against the swearing of oaths (“19. Do not use an oath”), but for anyone active in public life that was easier said than done.
Personally, I have not sworn many oaths. I swore a marriage oath. I swore an oath to Aphrodite. But I am, I will admit, a little oath-shy.
Something I’ve observed in the heathen community is a certain amount of less-than-functional oathing. (I’m not saying it’s unique to heathenry, just that it’s a comparatively larger community with a longer history than most modern polytheistic faiths, which means that custom has had a longer time to develop and solidify, and that there’s just been more opportunity for things, good or bad, to happen.) I think this may have to do with the role played by oaths in our broader culture, where they are sworn only rarely–we are not accustomed to them. So, say that an oath is sworn, perhaps for an important matter, perhaps not. Say, too, that the oath is broken. The fact that an oath was broken adds significantly to the bad feeling that results–not only did the person do whatever it is they did, they also broke their oath. Friendships are ended that might otherwise be repaired, because even if the offence itself might be forgivable, the broken oath is not.
I am not saying here that a broken oath is not a significant thing. I am saying that the oath itself is also a significant thing and should not be sworn frivolously or without great care.
And the ancients, I think, thought the same. An oath sworn in ancient Greece would generally take a fairly specific form–it would usually be sworn in the name of a god or gods, and it would specify what penalty would be suffered by the oath-taker should they fail to keep their oath.
Any oath was of course significant, but there were a few ways the ancients could mark the importance and sacredness of a particular oath.
Going to a holy place, a temple of sacred grove, to make an oath would grant it some additional weight. (Similarly in modern heathenry an oath sworn during sumbel–a sacred ritual space–has a greater weight.) There are also examples of oaths being sworn more than once, in more than one place, because they are so important.
Swearing by a particular deity was a stronger statement than swearing by “the gods” in that the oath is more narrowly directed; calling on the deity by a specific (and appropriate) epithet can also be effective. For example, you might swear an oath of marriage to Hera Teleia and Zeus Teleius.
Some people think that swearing an oath will increase the likelihood that they’ll actually do whatever it is they are swearing to do. (I think it is the same principle behind New Year’s Resolutions…) This is almost never the case. If you think you need an oath to get yourself to do a thing, it’s not a good indication that you are at all ready to do the thing. People who ask another to swear an oath for similar reasons will likely be similarly disappointed.
If you are going to swear an oath, to god or to mortal, it’s good to pay attention to how it is worded. Know what it is you are oathing to, because it is in a way a contract. Be specific about what you are promising. Maybe include a time limitation, saying that you will do X for Y amount of time, or that you will do X within Z period of time. A more open-ended oath is not necessarily a bad thing, it can leave room for changes in relationship, but if you make one, be certain that you can fulfill it.
Others in my household might disagree. My partner, for example, does not want an altar on his chest of drawers–he wants to be able to put spare change on it, or his hairbrush. Meanwhile I am starting to eye the flat shelves that are balanced on the radiators…
This is not uniquely a multifaith issue. Plenty of pagans are fond of altar-building. Plenty of us have many gods and perhaps many altars. But it’s probably true that being multifaith means more gods, and more gods means more altars, or at least the desire for more altars.
I’ve actually been giving more thought to options for wall altars, wall shrines. Years ago I decorated a wooden shelf for a Dionysos shrine, but since all my wall space was (and still is) in high-traffic areas it didn’t work very well. Things got knocked off. It wasn’t good.
I’ve considered the possibility of making a shrine from a medicine cabinet, the kind you hang over the sink in the bathroom. They come in different sizes and although they are generally shallow, there’s enough room for images inside, or even small icons, and of course they are designed to hang on walls. I haven’t tried this yet but I think there are possibilities there.
I think it depends on how the space will be used. If you are going to leave physical offerings you need a place to put them. If you simply want a place to pray at, an appropriate picture or plaque on the wall is probably enough.
What I’ve got right now is this:
I have three altars that occupy the tops of chests of drawers.
I have two altars that occupy the tops of bookcases.
One shrine is in a cabinet purchased for the specific purpose of being a shrine.
Another is in a cabinet on the left side of a buffet I use to store clothing; I’ve decorated the “walls” appropriately and have attached fairy lights to the “ceiling” as a light source.
I have two shrines that are pretty much just on the wall and one that’s art right now but is going to be a more active shrine soon.
I am undecided as to whether the Hermes beads hanging from the rear view mirror in the car count as a shrine but I do talk at them on occasion.