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(Video) The Absolute Cheesiest Tale About Charlemagne

In this narrated video essay, we present the absolute cheesiest tale about Charlemagne (r. 768-814) that was recorded by the medieval monk and historian, Notker the Stammerer (c. 840-912). With direct quotations from the medieval text and historical artworks to help illustrate the scene, prepare to be regaled about Charlemagne’s peculiar cheesy experience with one of the bishops of his realm.

[Video Timestamps]
00:00 Notker the Stammerer
01:10 Charlemagne, the Bishop, and Cheese
03:15 Notker Quote
04:34 Cheesy Logistics
05:48 Bishop Epilogue
06:05 Outro

All of the artworks and stock clips used in the video were labeled as Public Domain or free use at the time of the video’s creation.

Video Music
Free To Use Gregorian Chant Music Royalty Free “Camelot Monastery”
By Darren Curtis (https://www.youtube.com/@DarrenCurtisMusic, https://www.darrencurtismusic.com)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a4Vgb8UC07I

Medieval: The Old Tower Inn (CC0) Full Track + Loop
By Random Mind (https://www.youtube.com/@randommynd)
https://youtu.be/zFO3Jyr-mZ4?si=RK3fcM5BKiLg0dGc
License: Creative Commons CC0 https://creativecommons.org/public-domain/cc0/

[Free Medieval Tavern Music] “Ale and Anecdotes” Royalty Free Fantasy RPG Theme
By Darren Curtis (https://www.youtube.com/@DarrenCurtisMusic, https://www.darrencurtismusic.com)
https://youtu.be/y6v8TbhMWDE?si=oDkPZ-iAQ5I_Gxh-

[Video Transcript]
In the 880s, a monk named Notker the Stammerer decided to write about the life of Charlemagne, the famous king of the Franks who took power in 768 and died in 814. Notker’s only major biographical predecessor on the subject was Einhard, who wrote his Life of Charlemagne in the 820s. Notker the Stammerer, as a monk, felt that Einhard neglected the subjects of religion and the church in his coverage of Charlemagne’s life. Therefore, Notker, in his own work, The Deeds of Charlemagne, pointedly filled nearly the entire first book of his project with numerous bizarre stories involving prominent clergymen in Charlemagne’s empire. These tales, told to Notker by an enigmatic cleric named Werinbert, were unfortunately often left devoid of names, locations and dates, so it is difficult to assign any concrete historical validity to the tales. Even so, the strange stories are immensely entertaining and can give a window into the mind of a 9th-century audience.

One of Notker’s stories told of an anonymous bishop who managed property along an inland route that Charlemagne used frequently for his travels. While the king of the Franks was there, the unnamed bishop offered the king his hospitality, supplying food and drink from his own stores. The local church estates had plenty of supplies to feed the monarch, but a problem occurred on one particular trip. For one, in that specific incident in question, the king’s journey through the land had been provoked by unexpected circumstances, so the bishop had little time to prepare. Secondly, adding further complexity to the mix, the king arrived in the bishop’s territory on the day of a Friday Fast and, as a devout Christian, Charlemagne refused any dish made with meat from land animals or birds. Fish was an acceptable meal for the fast, but as the king was in an inland bishopric, Charlemagne would have been long gone before any fresh seafood could be carted into town. Unfortunately for Charlemagne, all that the bishop could provide on that Friday was cheese.

Surrounded by his attendants and the bishop, Charlemagne prepared for his meal. As the bishop blushed with embarrassment, a wheel of cheese was brought before the king. It was the best cheese that the region had to offer, but it must have looked unappetizing, especially the rough, dry edges of the wheel. According to the tale, Charlemagne withheld any comment and silently cut away the edges, intending to eat only the smooth and creamy center. When the bishop realized what the king was doing, he hesitantly approached and lightly commented that Charlemagne had cut away the best part. As the tale goes, Charlemagne trusted the bishop and looked for the choicest section of the unseemly hardened ends of the cheese. He cautiously ate a selected piece, slowly but methodically devouring the specimen. When the king finally swallowed the cheese, he enthusiastically turned to the bishop and agreed that the ends were delicious. On this curious scene of Charlemagne and his feast of cheese, Notker the Stammerer wrote:

“On that same journey he came unexpectantly to a bishop who lived in a place through which he had to pass. Now on that day, being the sixth day of the week, he was not willing to eat the flesh of beast or bird; and the bishop, being by reason of the nature of the place unable to procure fish quickly, ordered some excellent cheese, rich and creamy, to be placed before him. And the most moderate Charles, with the readiness which he showed everywhere and on all occasions, spared the blushes of the bishop and required nothing else; but taking up his knife cut off the skin, which he thought unsavoury, and fell to on the white of the cheese. Thereupon the bishop, who was standing near like a servant, drew closer and said: ‘Why do you do that, lord emperor? You are throwing away the very best part.’ Then Charles, who deceived no one, and did not believe that anyone would deceive him, on the persuasion of the bishop put a piece of the skin in his mouth, and slowly ate it and swallowed it like butter. Then approving of the advice of the bishop, he said: ‘Very true, my good host…’” (Notker the Stammerer, The Deeds of Charlemagne, 1.15)

Charlemagne was so delighted with the taste of the cheese that he demanded two full carts of the stuff to be shipped to his capital at Aachen on an annual basis. The king even specified how the cheese should be shipped: The cheese wheels were to be cut in half, with the best halves going to the king and the lesser sections staying behind with the bishop. The king’s cheese selections would then be skewered together and placed in a barrel, which, in turn, would be placed in the two carts that would carry the cheese to Aachen.

For three years the bishop meticulously carried out Charlemagne’s orders, slicing, selecting, skewering, barreling and shipping the two cart loads of the excellent cheese to Aachen each year. The burden of finding enough pristine cheese to meet the king’s demands was no easy task, yet the bishop always met his quota and, on the third year, he even drove the carts to Aachen himself. After the third annual shipment was received at Aachen, Charlemagne released the dutiful bishop from the job of being the king’s supplier of cheese. Perhaps, Charlemagne recognized the effort it took for the bishop to collect the cheeses, or the king could have simply grown tired of cheese after three years. Whatever the case, Charlemagne rewarded the clergyman for his three years of service by presenting the bishop with new tracts of fertile lands, which were pristine for the cultivation of grain and wine vineyards. So ended the Absolute Cheesiest Tale About Charlemagne.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Written Sources:

  • Two Lives of Charlemagne, by Einhard and Notker the Stammer, translated by David Ganz. New York: Penguin Classics, 2008.
  • Carolingian Chronicles: Royal Frankish Annals and Nithard’s Histories, translated by Bernhard Scholz and Barbara Rogers. Ann Arbor Paperbacks / University of Michigan Press, 1972.

Art sources:

Video stock footage sources

Ovid

Ovid (43 BCE-17 CE)

“A celibate life is something I’d only wish
On my very worst enemies.”

  • From The Amores (2.10.16-17) by Ovid, translated by Peter Green in The Erotic Poems (Penguin Classics, 1982).

Pythagoras’ Revolutionary Olympic Boxing Revenge

In the 6th century BCE, a curious fighter named Pythagoras emerged from the island of Samos and challenged the preconceived notions and norms of the sport of boxing. Not to be confused with the famous philosopher, mathematician and theologian of the same name and land, the boxer in question here was likely born a few decades before his famed fellow countryman. When the time came for the Olympic Games of the 48th ancient Olympiad (588 BCE), the boxer, Pythagoras, was evidently at a young age that allowed him to arguably qualify for both the main Olympic competition, as well as a youth tournament that was held in conjunction with the Games. His intention was to compete in the boys’ event, but his Olympic journey would take complicated and unexpected turns.

Our young protagonist, the boxer, was an innovative prodigy in his sport, and he was reported to have exhibited a unique, flamboyant personality that has become stereotypical for young geniuses. He grew out his hair to be unusually long, he wore robes dyed with expensive pigments, and he also kept his physique much slimmer than the average boxer of that time. His hair and dress were simply his style, but the slim build was part of a carefully-crafted new training regimen that the young athlete had been developing. In short, Pythagoras the Boxer was pioneering a training program that focused on nutrition, dieting, and a more scientific approach to athletic efficiency. Nevertheless, by the time of the Olympics, Pythagoras had not yet been able to test out his training and capabilities against any fighters of real renown. Therefore, when it came time for the Olympics, he was an unknown entity and was not a favorite to win by any stretch, even in the youth tournament he wanted to join. The scholar, Diogenes Laertius (3rd century CE), cited an epigram about the boxer, stating:

“Gone to box with other lads
Is the lad Pythagoras,
Gone to the games Olympian
Crates’ son the Samian.”
(Diogenes Laertius, Lives of Eminent Philosophers, 8.1.49.  The epigram is also in the Anthologia Planudea, iii.16).

Unfortunately for Pythagoras, he was not given a respectful or welcoming reception at the Olympics. His long hair, flamboyant fashion, and unusual slim physique became the subject of ridicule and mockery, both by fellow competitors and certain Olympic authorities. At the heart of the lampooning was an insinuation that the boxer had a womanly or girlish appearance. The critics and quibblers were so persistent and ferocious in their bullying that they successfully managed to have Pythagoras barred from the boys’ event at the Olympics. Pythagoras, however, was determined to compete, and since he was in that transitionary age between youth and young adulthood, he took that opportunity to sidestep the youth event and instead campaigned to get a spot in the adult boxing competition of the Olympic Games. Pythagoras convinced the Olympic authorities and was given the opportunity to compete. With that chance, the boxer entered the competition and made Olympic history. The historian, Eusebius (c. 260-339 CE), described the outcome of the Olympic boxing tournament of the 48th Olympiad: “Pythagoras of Samos was excluded from the boys’ boxing contest and was mocked for being effeminate, but he went on to the men’s contest and defeated all his opponents” (Eusebius, Chronicle, Book II, The Greek Olympiads, entry for 48th Olympiad/588 BCE). Disproving all the criticism and mockery, the slim and long-haired Pythagoras showcased his prowess and the effectiveness of his dietary program by becoming the Olympic boxing champion.

With an Olympic championship under his belt, proving that he was a magnificent boxer with a winning training routine, Pythagoras went on to have a successful post-Olympics career. He evidently became a professional trainer, instructor, or coach, teaching the sport of boxing and sharing his knowledge on nutrition and dietary plans for athletes. Diogenes Laertius mentioned this, differentiating between Pythagoras the trainer and Pythagoras the philosopher and mathematician, who both advocated for degrees of vegetarianism. Diogenes wrote, “Some say it was a certain trainer named Pythagoras who instituted this diet, and not our Pythagoras…” (Diogenes Laertius, Lives of Eminent Philosophers, 8.1.13). The boxer also had interests outside of athletics, and reportedly went on to write a historical text. This was mentioned by Diogenes in a paragraph that listed the many different people named Pythagoras who all lived in the 6th century BCE. After mentioning the great philosopher, as well as tyrants, sculptors, orators and doctors, Diogenes went on to describe Pythagoras the Boxer. He wrote, “and yet another who, so we are told by Dionysius, wrote a history of the Dorian race. Eratosthenes says, according to what we learn from Favorinus in the eighth book of his Miscellaneous History, that the last-named was the first to box scientifically, in the 48th Olympiad, keeping his hair long and wearing a purple robe; and that when he was excluded with ridicule from the boys’ contest, he went at once to the men’s and won that” (Diogenes Laertius, Lives of Eminent Philosophers, 8.1.47). Unfortunately, little else is known about Pythagoras the Boxer. Few records have survived the erosion of time, leaving unanswered questions such as if the Olympic champion fought again, who he might have coached, what other books he may have written, and when he died. Nevertheless, his vision of a science-based and nutrition-oriented approach to athletics remains very much alive to this day.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Terracotta lekythos (perfume flask), attributed to the Sabouroff Painter, ca. 460 BCE, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the MET).

Sources:

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

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

Sources:

Sophocles

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

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)

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

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

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)

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

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