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Erasistratus Discovers The Love Of Antiochus For Stratonice, By Edward Francis Burney (c. 1760–1848)

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thehistorianshut
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This drawing, by the British artist Edward Francis Burney (c. 1760–1848), re-creates the ancient tale of King Antiochus I Soter (r. 281 to 261 BCE) and Queen Stratonice of the Seleucid Empire. Theirs is a love story, albeit an awkward one. At the time of the scene in question, Antiochus was not yet king, and Stratonice was the stepmother of the young man. She was married to Antiochus’ father, King Seleucus I Nicator (r. 305-281 BCE), who married her after Antiochus’ mother was no longer in the picture. Unbeknownst to King Seleucus, the woman he chose to marry was also a woman that his son, Antiochus, was madly in love with. Therefore, when Stratonice became Seleucus’ wife, it caused Antiochus to fall into deep and melancholic depression. During the worst of the oppressive gloom, Antiochus became bedridden and his state of mind and body deteriorated to such an extent that King Seleucus called in a physician to examine the ailing young man. Fortunately for the royal family, the physician, named Erasistratus, quickly discovered the cause of the prince’s illness. As the story goes, it was a classic case of lovesickness. In the scene above, Erasistratus is seen in the act of proving his hypothesis, and his discovery would lead to both a divorce and a marriage. The ancient Greek-Roman biographer, Plutarch (c. 50-120), narrated the tale of what allegedly occurred in that room:

“[Erasistratus] perceived quite easily that he was in love, and wishing to discover who was the object of his passion (a matter not so easy to decide), he would spend day after day in the young man’s chamber, and if any of the beauties of the court came in, male or female, he would study the countenance of Antiochus, and watch those parts and movements of his person which nature has made to sympathize most with the inclinations of the soul. Accordingly, when any one else came in, Antiochus showed no change; but whenever Stratonicé came to see him, as she often did, either alone, or with Seleucus, lo, those tell-tale signs of which Sappho sings were all there in him, — stammering speech, fiery flushes, darkened vision, sudden sweats, irregular palpitations of the heart, and finally, as his soul was taken by storm, helplessness, stupor, and pallor” (Plutarch, Parallel Lives, Life of Demetrius, chapter 38).

Edward Francis Burney re-creates this scene in his drawing. In it, the physician, Erasistratus, can be seen checking Antiochus’ pulse as Stratonice stands nearby. After this awkward incident, King Seleucus amicably divorced himself from Stratonice in 294 BCE, and let her become the wife of Antiochus. Whether or not this is how their relationship truly began, the historical figures of Antiochus and Stratonice indeed married and had at least five children together.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

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Sophocles

By
thehistorianshut
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Sophocles (c. 496-406/405 BCE)

“All men make mistakes, it is only human.
But once the wrong is done, a man
can turn his back on folly, misfortune too,
if he tries to make amends, however low he’s fallen,
and stops his bullnecked ways. Stubbornness
brands you for stupidity—pride is a crime.”

  • From Sophocles’ Antigone, approximately between lines 1020-1030, translated by Robert Fagles (Penguin Classics, 1982, 1984, 2018).

The Curious Origin Controversy Over The Word, Easter

By
thehistorianshut
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Easter, Ostern, and the Passover Connection
Easter, and its German equivalent Ostern, are peculiar words. They are the English and German language designations for the Christian celebratory day to honor and commemorate Jesus’ resurrection after crucifixion. The day is called by many names, varying from language to language, but the labels of Easter and Ostern are particularly anomalous. This is because the vast majority of other languages designate the celebratory day of Jesus’ resurrection with a name that derives from the Greek and Latin word for Passover, Pascha. For example, Easter is known as Pâques in French, Pasqua in Italian, Pascua de Resurrección in Spanish, Påsk in Swedish, and Påske in Danish and Norwegian, to name a few. This links back to the belief that Jesus was crucified around the beginning of Passover, and resurrected three days later, still in the Passover week. Instead of following the overtly Passover-themed trend, the German and English language communities opted to take a vastly different approach in how they named the celebratory day, resulting in confusion, controversy and debate that still rages on to this day.

Easter and Ostern have a complicated and contested origin history. On one side, a faction of scholars believe the words were derived from the Latin word, alba (meaning white, and could describe dawn), and the phrase, in albis (in white). Proponents of this position believe German and Anglo-Saxon communities latched on to the white and dawn imagery and symbolism, favoring those descriptions over the Passover references used by other Christians. In time, as the white and dawn allusions changed through the etymological evolution of language changes, translations, or mistranslations, the peculiar titles of Ostern and Eastern came to be. Encyclopedia Britannica summarizes this train of thought, stating, “There is now widespread consensus that the word derives from the Christian designation of Easter week as in albis, a Latin phrase that was understood as the plural of alba (‘dawn’) and became eostarum in Old High German, the precursor of the modern German and English term” (Encyclopedia Britannica, entry for Easter). On the other hand, other scholars, including prominent medieval historical figures, believed that Easter and Ostern were named after the archaic name of the month in which Passover occurred—the Paschal month. April, the Roman month in which Passover takes place, was known as Eosturmonath to the Anglo-Saxons and as Ostarmanoth or Ostaramonath to the Franks. In this line of thought, the English word, Easter, and the German parallel, Ostern, derived not from the phrase, in albis (in white) or eostarum, but from those ancient month names that were eventually supplanted by Roman-based calendars.


Eosturmonath and Ostaramonath
Eosturmonath and Ostaramonath can be found in historical records. Eosturmonath was preserved for posterity by a Northumbrian monk and historian named Bede (c. 673-735). Often called the Father of English History, he was the author of the acclaimed Ecclesiastical History of the English People and began the tradition of labeling dates before the birth of Jesus Christ as BC. On the topics of the months and Easter, Bede wrote:

“In olden time the English people—for it did not seem fitting to me that I should speak of other people’s observance of the year and yet be silent about my own nation’s—calculated their months according to the course of the moon.  Hence, after the manner of the Greeks and the Romans (the months) take their name from the Moon, for the Moon is called mona and the month monath. The first month, which the Latins call January, is Giuli; February is called Solmonath; March Hrethmonath; April, Eosturmonath… Eosturmonath has a name which is now translated ‘Paschal month’, and which was once called after a goddess of theirs named Eostre, in whose honour feasts were celebrated in that month.  Now they designate that Paschal season by her name, calling the joys of the new rite by the time-honoured name of the old observance” (Bede, De temporum ratione (The Reckoning of Time), chapter 15 / §§329-331).

Historical use of Ostaramonath or Ostarmanoth can be found in the writing of Einhard (c. 770-840), who joined the court of Charlemagne sometime during the early 790s, and became a highly respected member of Charlemagne’s scholarly circle by 796. He composed a biographical Life of Charlemagne sometime between 817-827, in which he described how Charlemagne (r. 768-814) imposed the Frankish names of months on the subjects of the Carolingian Empire. Einhard wrote, “He gave names to the months in his native language, since before that time the Franks had given partly German and partly Latin names…And he called January Wintarmanoth, February Hornung, March Lentzinmanoth, April Ostarmanoth…” (Einhard, The Life of Charlemagne, chapter 29). Einhard, unfortunately, did not plainly explain the meaning of the month names, but they can nevertheless be inferred in a self-explanatory way. Wintarmanoth can be reckoned as Winter Month, Lentzinmanoth as Lent Month, and Ostarmanoth or Ostaramonath as Ostern or Easter Month.


Eostra, Ostrara, and Eos
The ironic and controversial nature the names, Easter and Ostern, come from their connection to Eosturmonath and Ostaramanoth, and how those archaic monthly titles came to be coined. As Bede reported, he believed that the Anglo-Saxon Eostre Month was “called after a goddess of theirs named Eostre, in whose honour feasts were celebrated in that month. Now they designate that Paschal season by her name, calling the joys of the new rite by the time-honoured name of the old observance” (De temporum ratione (The Reckoning of Time), chapter 15 / §331). This Eaostre or Eostrae figure that Bede wrote of was an ancient Saxon protective goddess with connections to dawn, fertility, and possibly the season of spring. She was honored by her worshippers at the time of the spring equinox. Similarly, the Frankish Ostern (or Ostara) Month was, and is, believed by many to have been named after a Germanic equivalent to Eostre, named Ostara. It is also believed that Eostre and Ostara may be parallels of, or connected to, the Greek goddess of Dawn, Eos.

Despite the aforementioned Encyclopedia Britannica insistence that there is “widespread consensus” that Easter was named after a Latin phrase referencing dawn or white, many authoritative sources still directly link the name of Easter to a Saxon goddess. An article attributed to Professor Carole Cusack at the University of Sydney states, “The English word for Easter is derived from the name of a minor Anglo-Saxon goddess, Eostre, a goddess of the dawn or spring. Feasts in her honour were often celebrated in April. In German, the word for Easter is ‘Ostern’ and is derived from the German version of Eostre, called Ostara. In both these names the linguistic element meaning ‘east’ (eost, ost) reinforces the connection with the dawn” (read Here). Similarly, an article from the University of Chicago states, “In a Germanic language such as English, the festival of Easter (Ostern in German) derives from Eostre, a pagan goddess of the dawn and spring” (read Here). Additionally, the Oxford Companion to the Bible begins its entry on Easter with the statement, “Easter. From Eostre, a Saxon goddess celebrated at the spring Equinox” (Oxford Companion to the Bible, entry for Easter (written by A.R.C. Leaney), pg. 404).

Even if one presumes that Easter, Ostern, Eosturmonath and Ostaramonath were named after Latin phrases about dawn or white, debate can still lead back to pagan goddesses, as Eostre, Ostara, and Eos were all deities linked to dawn. Furthermore, Eos (also spelled Aos) was also associated with the color white. The Lyric poet, Ibycus (c. 6th century BCE), called her “white-cheeked Aos” (Ibycus, Fragment 284 (trans. Campbell, Vol. Greek Lyric III)) and the poet, Bacchylides (c. 510-452+ BCE), similarly called her “White-horsed Aos” (Bacchylides, Fragment 20C, (trans. Campbell, Vol. Greek Lyric IV)). Whatever the case, the debate about the origin of the word, Easter, still remains heated and ongoing.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (The Last Chapter (The Venerable Bede Translates John) by James Doyle Penrose (1862-1932), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons, Bible-Researcher, and Wikimedia Commons).

 Sources:

Pomona And Vertumnus, By Suzanne de Court (c. 1575–1625)

By
thehistorianshut
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This artwork, by the French artist Suzanne de Court (c. 1575–1625), is a watchcase cover decorated with enamel on metal. Suzanne’s artwork draws inspiration from an ancient mythological tale involving the god Vertumnus—an Etruscan deity of seasons and vegetation—and Pomona, a Roman goddess of orchards and fruits. Although the watchcase cover seems to depict what looks like two women in conversation, one of the two figures is Vertumnus in disguise.

Due to Pomona and Vertumnus being both deities of plant life and nature, they naturally had a lot in common. In particular, Vertumnus was so enthralled with his counterpart, Pomona, that he fell in love at first sight. Pomona, on the other hand, was totally absorbed in her agricultural duties, living in a walled-off orchard and rejecting any and all advances from male deities who sought her company. This did not deter patient and persistent Vertumnus. Instead, the god decided to use all of the magical skills and tools at his godly disposal to catch Pomona’s attention and court the goddess.

Vertumnus, a masterful shapeshifter, approached Pomona’s garden again and again in the guise of all sorts of masculine physiques and appearances in hopes of winning the goddess’ approval. He took on the appearance of a reaper, a haymaker, a plowman, a vineyard worker and an apple picker, only to be turned away or ignored each time. After Pomona rejected all of these personas, Vertumnus had an epiphany; if he adopted a disguise as a woman, maybe Pomona would let down her guard enough to talk. The Roman poet Ovid (43 BCE-17 CE) described these transformations:

“All these forms he adopted again and again to get close
to Pomona and so to enjoy the sight of her beautiful person.
One day he even put on a grey wig with a bright-coloured headscarf,
crouched down over a stick and pretended to be an old woman.”
(Ovid, Metamorphosis, 14.651-655).

Vertumnus’ elderly woman disguise worked to great effect, and he achieved his long-awaited audience with Pomona. It is this achievement that Suzanne de Court brings to life on the watchcase cover. As the story goes, Vertumnus’ conversation with Pomona went more than well. The incognito god began telling the goddess that she had a godly admirer, and he went on to flatteringly describe his real self for her. After Vertumnus caught Pomona’s attention with the self-lauding gossip, he removed his shapeshifting illusion and switched back to his real form, pleasantly surprising the goddess. Pomona reportedly did not hold a grudge against Vertumnus’ deceptive icebreaker tactics, and to the contrary, the two were said to have ended up living together happily ever after.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Sources:

Cicero

By
thehistorianshut
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Marcus Tullius Cicero (106-43 BCE)

“Nothing can be sweeter than liberty. Yet if it isn’t equal throughout, it isn’t liberty at all.”

  • From The Republic by Cicero (Book 1, chapter 47), translated by Niall Rudd (Oxford University Press, 1998).

The Valley Of Hinnom And The Origin Of The Hebrew Underworld

By
thehistorianshut
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Hell
Hell, as a word, did not come from the Bible. The word is Germanic in origin and is, ironically, tied to Norse mythology, as a goddess named Hel oversaw the dead in Norse myth. In ancient and early medieval mythology, it was common for the name of the deity of death to also be frequently used to describe the realm of the dead. Therefore, just like Hades in Greek mythology, the name Hel could also be used to refer to both the Norse goddess of the dead and also her fiefdom of the deceased. Old English, with its ties to Germanic cultures and language, adopted the word hel, which transformed into the modern hell. To put it bluntly, when English translations of the Bible use the word, hell, the translators are using a newer and more familiar Germanic designation for the underworld instead of the original ancient Hebrew titles, such as Sheol, Abaddon, and Gehenna. Specifically, Gehenna is the designation that is most often replaced in the New Testament. With the word, Hell, and other non-Hebrew baggage put to the side, a discussion can be had of the original underworld envisioned by the ancient Hebrews, and the curious development of this concept over centuries.

Sheol
Sheol, Abaddon and Gehenna can be used somewhat interchangeably, but there was a clear hierarchy in regard to which of the three was the most all-encompassing term. Sheol was the broadest and most general description of the realm of the dead. It was used in the oldest books of the Bible, such as Genesis and Numbers, with Biblical figures talking of the dead being in Sheol and espousing beliefs that they, too, would eventually become an inhabitant of that place. Genesis contains a scene of Jacob grieving over the loss of his son. The text states, “All his sons and all his daughters sought to comfort him, but he refused to be comforted and said, ‘No, I shall go down to Sheol to my son, mourning.’ Thus his father bewailed him.” (Genesis 37.34-35, NRSVUE version). This quote presents the concept of Sheol as a neutral, all-encompassing, realm of the dead. At this stage of conceptualization, there was little talk of separation between the good and the bad in the underworld. All dead went to Sheol. On the all-encompassing nature of the place, both for the souls of the nobility and the common masses, the author of the Book of Isaiah vividly wrote:

“Therefore Sheol has enlarged its appetite
and opened its mouth beyond measure;
the nobility of Jerusalem and her multitude go down,
her throng and all who exult in her.”
(Isaiah 5.14, NRSVUE version).

Regrettably, most ancient authors of the Bible provided sparce information about the residents of the underworld, rarely describing their afterlife existence, or how they acted or felt. Some valuable insight, however, can be gleaned from the concept of the Rephaim that early Hebrews shared with their Canaanite neighbors. In modern English translations, Rephaim (or refa’im), is often replaced by the word “shades” in certain sections of the Bible that involve the Jewish underworld and its inhabitants. Take, for example, Isaiah 14. The rather difficult to read Orthodox Jewish Bible (OJB) English translation of this specific passage reads: “Sheol from beneath is astir for thee to meet thee at thy coming; it stirreth up the refa’im for thee, even all the attudei aretz (he-goat world leaders); it hath raised up from their kise’ot (thrones) all the melachim of the Goyim” (Isaiah 14.9, OJB version). A similar approach is taken in the Young’s Literal Translation version (YLT): “Sheol beneath hath been troubled at thee, To meet thy coming in, It is waking up for thee Rephaim, All chiefs ones of earth, It hath raised up from their thrones All kings of nations” (Isaiah 14.9, YLT version). In contrast, the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV) and a majority of the other newer translations opt to use the word, shades, instead of Rephaim in the context of the underworld. The NRSV translation of Isaiah 14 reads:

“Sheol beneath is stirred up
to meet you when you come;
it rouses the shades to greet you,
all who were leaders of the earth;
it raises from their thrones
all who were kings of the nations.”
(Isaiah 14.9, NRSV translation).

Use of the name, Rephaim, for ghostly underworld figures occurs in other sections of the Bible. Further instances include Isaiah 26.14, translated as “Dead — they live not, Rephaim, they rise not” (YLT version) and “The dead do not live; shades do not rise” (NRSV edition). Another example of this is in Proverbs 2.18-19, translated variously as “For her house hath inclined unto death, And unto Rephaim her paths. None going in unto her turn back, Nor do they reach the paths of life” (YLT version) and “for her way leads down to death and her paths to the shades; those who go to her never come back, nor do they regain the paths of life” (NRSV edition). Biblical descriptions of kingly shades having prominence in the underworld was paralleled in Canaanite writings, in which kings and legendary heroes were described as joining the ranks of the Rephaim in the underworld. Take, for instance, this reference to a certain King Kirta of Hubar, and his dynasty’s founder, named Ditan, from tablets found in the ruins of Ugarit (which fell around 1200 BCE):

“May Kirta be highly praised,
in the midst of the Rephaim of the underworld,
in the assembly of Ditan’s company.”
(Kirta, Tablet 2, Column 3, approximately lines 1-3).

Sheol, to reiterate, is the ancient term for the general Hebrew land of the dead. Both good and bad, and lowly and kingly go there. Heroic Rephaim shades retain some high status in the afterlife, but their authority and purpose in that underworld realm remain vague. For more specificity, one must delve into descriptions of Sheol’s subregions of Abaddon and Gehenna.

Abaddon
Abaddon and Gehenna are terms with connotations of punishment. Abaddon means “place of destruction,” which gave the title a natural ominous and negative feeling. Nevertheless, it was fairly synonymous with the less-imposing designation of Sheol, and the two titles were often paired together. For instance, of the underworld’s gluttonous and unending collection of human souls, it was said, “Sheol and Abaddon are never satisfied…” (Proverbs 27.20). The old biblical authors also made it clear that God’s omniscience included the realm of the dead, and that He was fully aware of what was occurring in the underworld. The Book of Job illustrated this idea:

“Sheol is naked before God,
and Abaddon has no covering.”
(Job 26.6)

Sheol and Abaddon were described with notable personification. It has already been mentioned how the underworld “enlarged its appetite” (Isaiah 5.14), how it is “never satisfied” (Proverbs 27.20), and how it can stir, rouse and be troubled (Isaiah 14.9). These insatiable themes continued in Proverbs:

“Sheol, the barren womb,
the earth ever-thirsty for water,
and the fire that never says, ‘Enough.’”
(Proverbs 30.16).

Yet, this personification is more neutral than diabolical. These descriptions of the realm of the dead emphasize the insurmountable and inescapable powers of death and decay over living matter, which is fated to be absorbed into the earth in the course of the natural and divine order. For more hellish descriptions and more focus on fire and sulfur, we must turn to Gehenna.

Gehenna
Gehenna was the closest thing that the ancient Hebrews had to the modern vision of Hell. Despite the hellish final result, Gehenna seems to have had a rather mundane origin story. Gehenna is believed to have been conceptually and etymologically tied to an ancient place called the Valley of Hinnom. In Hebrew, the Valley of Hinnom would be gē’ hinnōm, and was combined to gēhinnā in Aramaic, ultimately resulting in the Gehenna that was replaced by Hell in English texts.

In the beginning, Gehenna was merely a valley. It played host to underworld-related rituals involving fire, to be true, but it was still just an ordinary valley. In the Book of Joshua, Gehenna was stated to have been just to the south of Jerusalem. The text mentioned “the valley of the son of Hinnom at the southern slope of the Jebusites (that is, Jerusalem)” (Joshua 15.8) and this geographical positioning was reiterated with a later mention of “the valley of Hinnom, south of the slope of the Jebusites” (Joshua 18.16, NSRVUE version). Most importantly, Hinnom had a ritual spot known as Topheth (the Burning Place), where obscure rites involving fire were carried out in connection to the dead, the underworld, and the afterlife. Authors from later in the biblical tradition would claim that the ceremonies at Hinnom predated the arrival of the Hebrew people at Jerusalem, but large portions of the population, from all levels of society, were comfortable enough with what was occurring in Hinnom to embrace the fiery rituals for generations.

Ancient Hebrew people had a complicated relationship with the Valley of Hinnom, to say the least. On the one hand, many of the ancient Jewish inhabitants of the region, especially in the earliest times, reportedly showed great interest in the Valley of Hinnom and personally were involved in carrying out the valley’s unique fiery rituals for the dead. Certain Hebrew kings were said to have physically and financially supported the valley rituals and even God, himself, was sometimes described in Hinnom terminology. For instance, the Bible states, “For his burning place [Topheth] has long been prepared, also for the king; its pyre is made deep and wide, with fire and wood in abundance; the breath of the Lord, like a stream of sulfur, kindles it” (Isaiah 30.33) and also, “Thus says the Lord of hosts: So I will break this people and this city as one breaks a potter’s vessel, so that it can never be mended. In Topheth they shall bury until there is no more room to bury” (Jeremiah 19.11, NRSVUE version).



Conquests and Changing Beliefs
In contrast to the societal beliefs in ghosts, Rephaim, and the various characterizations of the underworld, there was also a growing faction of theologians among the Hebrews that began to relentlessly chastise the era’s belief in spirits and the realm of the dead. This trend began approximately around the 8th century BCE and came to hold complete theological dominance by the 6th century BCE. Curiously, this reactionary theological movement occurred around the same time as the fall of the Kingdom of Israel to the Assyrians in 722 BCE and the subsequent conquest of the Kingdom of Judah by the Babylonians in 587 or 586 BCE. This led to the Babylonian Exile or Captivity period of Jewish history, which ended in 538 BCE due to the intervention of the Persian ruler, Cyrus the Great (r. 550-529 BCE). A great example of that movement’s anti-ghost and anti-afterlife frame of mind was written by the author of Ecclesiastes:

“But whoever is joined with all the living has hope, for a living dog is better than a dead lion. The living know that they will die, but the dead know nothing; they have no more reward, and even the memory of them is lost. Their love and their hate and their envy have already perished; never again will they have any share in all that happens under the sun. Go, eat your bread with enjoyment and drink your wine with a merry heart, for God has long ago approved what you do. Let your garments always be white; do not let oil be lacking on your head. Enjoy life with the wife whom you love all the days of your vain life that are given you under the sun, because that is your portion in life and in your toil at which you toil under the sun. Whatever your hand finds to do, do with your might, for there is no work or thought or knowledge or wisdom in Sheol, to which you are going” (Ecclesiastes 9.4-10, NRSVUE version).

Theologians and religious authorities at the beginning of the reactionary movement in the 8th century BCE were not as extreme as the author of Ecclesiastes had become by the postexilic period, but they nevertheless pushed back in varying degrees against beliefs of ghosts, spirits, mediums, necromancy, and other afterlife-adjacent topics. Leviticus, presumed to have been written around that period of reactionary backlash, contains several attacks on mediums and spiritualists, as well as those who sought their services. The text stated, “If any turn to mediums or spiritualists, prostituting themselves to them, I will set my face against them and will cut them off from the people” (Leviticus 20.6) and “A man or a woman who is a medium or a spiritualist shall be put to death; they shall be stoned to death; their bloodguilt is upon them” (Leviticus 20.27). Furthermore, Isaiah—another biblical text from that period—warned readers against people who made statements like: “’Consult the ghosts and the familiar spirits that chirp and mutter; should not a people consult their gods, the dead on behalf of the living, for teaching and for instruction?’ surely those who speak like this will have no dawn!” (Isaiah 8.19-22, NRSVUE version). These criticisms were ironic, for Hebrew kings like King Saul and King Solomon were associated with necromancy and sorcery. Solomon’s connection to sorcery comes largely from legend and folktales, but the Bible, itself, tells that King Saul (said to have ruled c. 1020-1000 BCE) had the Witch of Endor use necromancy to summon the ghost of the prophet, Samuel. The test described the scene:

“Saul swore to her by the Lord, ‘As the Lord lives, no punishment shall come upon you for this thing.’ Then the woman said, ‘Whom shall I bring up for you?’ He answered, ‘Bring up Samuel for me.’ When the woman saw Samuel, she cried out with a loud voice, and the woman said to Saul, ‘Why have you deceived me? You are Saul!’ The king said to her, ‘Have no fear; what do you see?’ The woman said to Saul, ‘I see a divine being coming up out of the ground.’ He said to her, ‘What is his appearance?’ She said, ‘An old man is coming up; he is wrapped in a robe.’ So Saul knew that it was Samuel, and he bowed with his face to the ground and did obeisance” (1 Samuel 28.10-14, NRSVUE version).

Unfortunately for the Hebrews who enjoyed participating in the fiery ceremonies at the Valley of Hinnom, their activities were too involved with ghosts and the afterlife to be seen with favor by the new theologians. Even worse, the ceremonies at Gehenna were eventually deemed to be ungodly and abominable by the new theological movement, especially due to the site’s ties to Canaanite deities, Baal and Molech/Moloch. This association was mentioned by the author of the Book of Jeremiah, who wrote, “They built the high places of Baal in the valley of the son of Hinnom, to offer up their sons and daughters to Molech, though I did not command them, nor did it enter my mind that they should do this abomination, causing Judah to sin” (Jeremiah 32.35, NRSVUE version). Nevertheless, to the disappointment of several biblical authors, a great many ancient Hebrews, including kings, continued to flock to the Valley of Hinnom, where the fire ceremonies continued. Reflecting this persistence, books of the Bible (including Kings, Chronicles and Jeremiah) contain frustrated denunciations against people who did not cease their activities at the Topheth (Burning Place) of Hinnom.

Speaking of the population in general, the author of the Book of Jeremiah contiued, “And they go on building the high place of Topheth, which is in the valley of the son of Hinnom, to burn their sons and their daughters in the fire—which I did not command, nor did it come into my mind” (Jeremiah 7.30-31). Similarly, several kings of Jerusalem were criticized and singled out by name. Of King Ahaz (c. 8th century BCE), it was said “he made offerings in the valley of the son of Hinnom and made his sons pass through fire, according to the abominable practices of the nations whom the Lord had driven out before the people of Israel” (2 Chronicles 28.3). Additionally, biblical authors had a list of complaints against King Manasseh (r. 697/697-642 BCE), such as “He made his son pass through the fire in the valley of the son of Hinnom, practiced soothsaying and augury and sorcery, and dealt with mediums and with wizards. He did much evil in the sight of the Lord, provoking him to anger” (2 Chronicles 33.6). On the opposite side, however, King Josiah (r. 640-609 BCE) whole-heartedly joined the new reactionary theological movement that focused solely on Yahweh (God) and his interaction with the living, deemphasizing all other aspects of spiritualism and the afterlife. Free of the Assyrian influence that had been present since the time of Ahaz, Josiah cracked down on religious practices that were not centered completely on Yahweh. This included the ceremonies at Hinnom. The Bible states, “He defiled Topheth, which is in the valley of Ben-hinnom, so that no one would make a son or a daughter pass through the fire as an offering to Molech” (2 Kings 23.10).

Such is the odd origin of the real Gehenna, which inspired the conceptualization of God’s fiery place of burning. The most apt hellish description of Gehenna from the Hebrew Bible that fits modern concepts of Hell was written by the author of the Book of Isaiah, who wrote, “For his burning place has long been prepared, also for the king; its pyre is made deep and wide, with fire and wood in abundance; the breath of the Lord, like a stream of sulfur” (Isaiah 30.33). Hellenized, Romanized, and Christianized Hebrews amplified the hellish fires and the punitive nature of Gehenna by making a connection to the underworld realm of Hades and the Greek mythological underworld prison of Tartarus. The new system of blissful heaven and torturous hell was illustrated in the Gospel of Luke’s tale of poor Lazarus and the rich man. It read, “There was a rich man…And at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man’s table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores. The poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried. In Hades, where he was being tormented, he lifted up his eyes and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side” (Luke 16.19-23). As for Abaddon, the old designation that was synonymous with Sheol, it was brought back in Revelation as a personified angelic creature leading forces from the abyss. It was written, “They have as king over them the angel of the bottomless pit; his name in Hebrew is Abaddon, and in Greek he is called Apollyon” (Revelation 9.11). Hell certainly came a long way from the neutral realm of Sheol and the ceremonial fires in the Valley of Hinnom.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Cropped section from Christ in the Realm of the Dead, by Joakim Skovgaard (1856 – 1933), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the SMK.).

 

Sources:

Alceste, By Charles-Antoine Coypel (1694-1752), Clément-Louis-Marie-Anne Belle (1722-1806), And Michel Audran (1701-1771)

By
thehistorianshut
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This tapestry, woven by the workshop of Michel Audran (1701-1771) after a design by Charles-Antoine Coypel (1694-1752) and Clément-Louis-Marie-Anne Belle (1722-1806), is titled Alceste and draws inspiration from the ancient Greek myths of Alcestis. According to the ancient tales, she was the beautiful daughter of King Pelias of Iolcos, and she married the king of Pherae, Admetos by name. Admetos’ courtship of Alcestis was unorthodox, as the king of Pherae won his future wife’s hand in marriage by completing a difficult public challenge issued by Alcestis’ father, Pelias. The challenge was to leash a lion and a boar to a chariot, and Admetos succeeded in this quest with the help of the gods. With the challenge completed, Admetos received permission from Pelias to marry Alcestis. Competition and political arrangements aside, Alcestis ultimately embraced the role of the selfless, devoted wife. Admetos, unfortunately, did not always reciprocate his wife’s sacrificial love.

After the wedding of Alcestis and Admetos, the gods Apollo and Artemis decided to pay a visit to the couple’s kingdom. Artemis, the huntress goddess, stalked around the local shrines and temples during her stay, and she angrily concluded that her due sacrifices and offerings in Pherae were not up to her standards. In her fury over the deficient offerings, Artemis began to plot a deadly punishment against the king of the city. She was not subtle about her intentions, leading to Admetos discovering he was in peril. The king of Pherae rushed to Apollo, who was his friend, and begged for assistance. Apollo, willing to help, concluded that Artemis’ curse could not be outright stopped, but he theorized that the wrath of the goddess could potentially be delayed or transferred if the Fates consented.

Following Apollo’s direction, Admetos was able to postpone Artemis’ vengeance, and the Fates were persuaded to allow for a willing volunteer to take Admetos’ place the next time the king faced death. Yet, who would willingly sacrifice their own life so that Admetos could live? Cue Admetos’ selfless and devoted wife, Alcestis. She volunteered to make the ultimate sacrifice. This myth and its conclusion was described by a scholar known as Pseudo-Apollodorus (c. 1st-2nd century):

“Apollo advised him to propitiate the goddess, and demanded of the Fates that when Admetos was about to die, he should be released from death if somebody would freely choose to die in his place. When the day came for him to die, neither his father nor his mother was willing to die for him, so Alcestis died in his place. But Kore [or Persephone] sent her back to earth again, or, according to some accounts, Heracles fought with Hades for her [and returned her to Admetos]” (Apollodorus, Library, I.9.15).

Such is the myth that is re-created in the tapestry. The artwork likely depicts the ending of the myth, with Alcestis returning home to Admetos after her adventure in the land of the dead. Michel Audran and the designers seemed to have opted for the tale of Heracles being Alcestis’ rescuer. This can be discerned due to the prominent Herculean figure in the center of the tapestry, seen wielding Heracles’ signature club. Interestingly, Apollo, as a god associated with prophecy and oracles, could likely foresee that Alcestis would be rescued from the realm of Hades. Admetos, on the other hand, was not privy to that knowledge when he allowed his wife to offer herself as sacrifice.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Sources:

Søren Kierkegaard

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thehistorianshut
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Søren Kierkegaard (1813-1855)

“The sectarians deafen one another with their noise and clamor, keep anxiety away with their screeching.”

  • From Soren Kierkegaard’s Fear and Trembling (Problema 2), translated by Howard V. and Edna H. Hong (Princeton University Press, 1983).

The Tale Of Charlemagne’s Humbling Prank Against A Bishop

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thehistorianshut
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Charlemagne (r. 768-814), the king and emperor of the Franks, was put in a tough position when a bishop who was a friend and confidant of his wife, Hildegard (d. 783), became the subject of scrutiny for lavishly overspending on dubious religious relics. Charlemagne, hoping to chastise the bishop, concocted a scheme that would highlight the folly of the bishop’s actions and serve as a teaching moment for the realm. In furtherance of his plan, Charlemagne made a deal with a Jewish merchant who had international trade connections and had a familiarity with the relic trade. This merchant, under Charlemagne’s protection and direction, was tasked with approaching the problematic bishop with an offer to sell him a relic, which, unbeknownst to the bishop, would be counterfeit. With the permission of the king, the merchant was also allowed to charge extortionate prices for the holy hoax.

Charlemagne’s accomplice put a lot of effort into fabricating the fake relic that he would try to sell to the bishop. The merchant, as the story goes, caught a local mouse and had the unfortunate creature preserved with taxidermy. The stuffed mouse was then perfumed with spices, decorated with dyes or paints, and it may have been augmented so that it would not look like the average rodent. With the counterfeit curio in hand, and an exotic tale in mind to match it, the merchant set off to sell it to the bishop. Notker the Stammerer (c. 840-912), a monk and biographer, recorded the story, keeping the bishop’s name anonymous to spare the man from further embarrassment. Notker wrote:

“So the Jew caught an ordinary house mouse and stuffed it with various spices, and then offered it for sale to the bishop, saying that he had brought from Judea this most precious animal, never seen before. The bishop was filled with such joy at this, and offered the Jew three pounds of silver for the precious article. Then the Jew said: ‘A fine price indeed for so precious an article! I had rather throw it into the depths of the sea than let any man have it at so cheap and shameful a price.’ So the bishop, who had much wealth and never gave anything to the poor, offered him ten pounds of silver for the incomparable treasure. But the cunning man, with pretend indignation, replied: ‘The God of Abraham forbid that I should thus lose the fruit of my labour and transport.’ Then the greedy cleric, all eager for the prize offered him twenty pounds. But the Jew in high dudgeon wrapped up the mouse in the most costly silk and began to leave. Then the bishop, as thoroughly taken in as he deserved to be, offered a full measure of silver to obtain the priceless object. And so at last the merchant yielded to his entreaties with much show of reluctance” (Notker the Stammerer, The Deeds of Charlemagne, book 1, chapter 16).

With the mouse relinquished and the silver collected, the merchant returned to Charlemagne with the proceeds of the sale. After hearing the colorful debriefing, Charlemagne decided a stern reprimand of the bishop was in order. Even more, the king decided to rebuff the bishop in public. Notker the Stammerer continued the tale, writing, “After a few days the king called together all the bishops and nobles of that province to his assembly; and, after many needful matters had been considered, he ordered all that silver to be brought and placed in the middle of the palace. Then thus he spoke and said: ‘Fathers and guardians, bishops of our Church, you ought to minister to the poor…One of you has given a Jew all this silver for a painted mouse’” (The Deeds of Charlemagne, book 1, chapter 16). The guilty bishop, knowing his purchase was discovered, threw himself on the ground before the king and begged for forgiveness. Charlemagne verbally lashed the bishop with a few more phrases of wise criticism, but he ultimately let the man go without any further corrective measures. The public shaming was punishment enough.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Painting by Georg Sturm depicting Charlemagne and Einhard, on the west wall in the entrance hall, [Public Domain] via Rijksmuseum, Wikimedia and Europeana).

Sources:

  • Two Lives of Charlemagne, by Einhard and Notker the Stammer, translated by David Ganz. New York: Penguin Classics, 2008.

Fall Of Troy, Helen Boarding Ship To Return To Sparta, By An Unknown 18th-Century Weaver

By
thehistorianshut
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This tapestry is titled Fall of Troy: Helen boarding ship to return to Sparta, and is believed by the Getty Institute to have been created between 1710 and 1720. In the long timeline of Homer’s recounting of the Trojan War saga, this scene takes place right in the middle of the chronology. It is set just after the fall of Troy, but immediately before the majority of the victorious Greek forces sailed off for their respective homes. In fact, the tapestry depicts the very moment when Helen and Menelaus boarded their flagship to begin their journey back to Mycenaean Sparta. The Spartan royals left earlier than many of their allies. In fact, Menelaus left so quickly that he skirted religious ceremony and failed to offer proper respect to the gods. It is this scene of Helen and Menelaus hurriedly departing from Troy that the 18th-century weavers re-created in the tapestry.

Unfortunately for Helen and Menelaus, they were about to depart on yet another perilous adventure, for nothing good comes from angering the gods before setting sail into the mercy of the winds and waves. Suffice it to say, the journey home did not go smoothly. Homer narrated the scene from the viewpoint of Nestor, who stated:

“’Meanwhile we were sailing together over the sea from Troy, Menelaus and I, the best of friends. But when we were abreast of the sacred cape of Sunium, where Attica juts out into the sea, Phoebus Apollo shot one of his painless arrows at Menelaus’ helmsman and killed him, with the tiller of the running ship still in his hands. This man, Phrontis son of Onetor, had been the world’s best steersman in a gale, and Menelaus, though anxious to journey on, was kept at Sunium till he could bury his comrade with the proper rites. But when he too had got away over the wine-dark sea in those great ships of his and had run as far as the steep headland of Malea, far-seeing Zeus brought disaster on their journey, and sent them a howling gale with giant waves. Then and there he split the fleet in two” (Homer, The Odyssey, Book 3, approximately between lines 270-290).

Such is the peril into which Menelaus and Helen were sailing in the scene depicted within the tapestry. Due to the godly attacks on his ships, the Spartan royal couple was subjected to a seven-year detour of sailing around the southeastern Mediterranean. In a conversation from Book 4 of The Odyssey, Menelaus reported that he visited Cyprus, Phoenicia, Sidon, Arabia, Libya and Egypt during those years of divine punishment before they were ultimately allowed to find their way back to Sparta.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Sources:

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