In this first such post, I will consider the
archetype of the wisdom deity. Wisdom is, in this case, distinct from
knowledge, and somewhat distinct from intellect – in that some
examples we will consider see the ideas of wisdom and intellect as
more interconnected, and some less. Wisdom is not related to the
acquisition of knowledge, but may be related to the ability to put
together information to come to an appropriate conclusion, and is
generally related to the ability to determine the right course to
take beyond a simple optimisation of the outcome – looking past
immediate objectives to peripheral or longer-term results.
To the Greeks, the personification of this sort of
wisdom was Athena, who was also a goddess of war – particularly of
strategy, of command, rather than focussing on the combat itself; for
combat, you want Ares. It is arguably from Athena that we get the
association of owls with wisdom, as owls were sacred to Athena. She
was also associated with craftsmen and artisans, except those covered
more specifically by Hephaestus, and was the patron and protectress
of Athens in particular, and sometimes seen as a protectress of
cities in general – in line with the emphasis sometimes given to
her role in warfare being defensive. In some versions of her birth,
she was born from the head of Zeus. She is also one of the virgin
goddesses of the Greek pantheon, and her temple at Athens was
dedicated to her as Athena Parthenos
– hence, the Parthenon. Knowledge of various sorts, and indeed wit,
are also associated with other Olympian and non-Olympian deities of
Greek mythology, including Hephaestus, god of smiths and inventors;
Apollo, god of light, the sun, music, poetry, healing, and in some
sources, knowledge; and Hecate, thought to be a pre-Olympian cthonic
goddess, to whom is attributed a dazzling array of areas of
responsibility, if not ultimate authority.
Roman mythology is
closely based on that of the Greeks, but not identical to it. Often
people see the Roman pantheon as the same as the Greek with the names
changed, but there's a lot more to it than that. The counterpart of
Athena, Minerva, still serves as a patron of artisans, and as a
figure of wisdom, but loses almost all of the association with war –
and is considered a much more minor figure; these factors are
probably linked, though it is easy to argue either way for the
direction of causality. Such shifts were common; while each of the 12
primary deities of the Greek pantheon exist in the Roman pantheon, by
way of counterparts, some responsibilities are shifted, and
importance is heavily shifted, with Vesta of far greater importance
than Hestia; indeed, Hestia was not a major goddess to the Greeks,
having been said to have given up her seat at the top table to
Dionysus on his elevation to godhood. Jupiter had similar importance,
if shifted emphasis, compared to Zeus, and Juno was arguably more
central to practice than Hera. Likewise, having gained the more
respectable aspects of responsibility to war that had been the domain
of Athena, Mars was of greater prominence, importance and
respectability than Ares. The other major Olympians were generally
reduced in importance in Rome as compared to Greece, reflecting both
a difference in social importance of certain roles – such as less
focus on Neptune compared to Poseidon due to the sea being of less
importance to Romans – or a difference in the cultural origins of
the gods, as many of the identifications of certain figures with
Greek figures were made after the fact, as Roman culture attempted to
put itself forward as the successor of Greece. Indeed, there are more
supposedly minor figures who were of more cultural or practical
importance to Roman religion that arguably have no correspondence
with the Greek, and it is here we find another wisdom figure, the
water nymph Egeria, said to have been a teacher to Numa Pompilius,
the second king of Rome (and successor of Romulus). They also
accorded a degree of reverence to Providentia, the personification of
forethought.
The most
well-known wisdom deity in the Egyptian pantheon is probably Isis,
also known for magic and as a patron of artisans, and the symbolic
mother of the pharaoh. Marriage was also sacred to her, and she would
answer prayers on almost any subject, especially from slaves, sinners
and artisans. However, another figure of knowledge and wisdom was
Thoth, scribe of the gods and patron of scribes. Thoth's variety of
wisdom also incorporated knowledge, as well as reason, science (such
as it was) and record-keeping. In later Egyptian history, Thoth also
became the arbiter of disputes between the gods, and gained
importance in the judgement of the dead; involvement in aspects of
the afterlife for humans is a very common feature of Egyptian gods,
and Isis had her role there as well, assisting dead pharaohs in the
afterlife – their symbolic mother in life, and symbolic wife in
death. Egyptian mythology also identified a personification of
primordial wisdom, Sia, but such figures are thought to have been
less important in Egyptian religious practice.
Germanic mythology, or
specifically the Norse form that is most well-known, is very well
equipped with divinities associated with Wisdom. The original Norse
god of war, Týr, was – like Athena – also associated with
wisdom. His role in warfare was later superseded by Odin, who also
somewhat took on wisdom aspects, though more in the sense of
knowledge, or by way of other figures such as the severed head of
Mímir. In addition, there are multiple additional, albeit more minor
figures in the Eddas, such as Sága and Vör, that provide wisdom and
foreknowledge to other mythological figures, as well as foreknowledge
and wisdom being attributed to Odin's consort, Frigg. These three
goddesses, however, are mostly shown as providing their wisdom and
predictions to Odin.
The Hindu pantheon
attributes wisdom of different forms and degrees to different
figures, such as Ganesha, elephant god intellect and wisdom;
Saraswati, goddess of music, art, knowledge, learning and wisdom, and
helper of Brahma; or Hayagriva, horse-headed avatar of Vishnu, and
god of knowledge and wisdom. Here we see associations with intellect,
creativity and knowledge, respectively.
I could go on through
further pantheons, considering Lugh and Brighid of Celtic mythology,
or Omoikane, Shinto god of wisdom and intelligence. We could consider
ancient Mesopotamian cases, where Nabu pairs wisdom with writing, and
Enki with crafts and mischief. The different areas each god or
goddess covers is interesting, and while the connection of wisdom
with crafts, writing, foreknowledge and intelligence are intuitively
understandable, the repetition of the connection between wisdom and
warfare is more challenging, perhaps particularly for Quakers, who
generally view war as, we might say, the perennial, clear evidence of
the lack of wisdom among humanity.
I'm sure some will find
this a fascinating divine safari, while others will be ready to
criticise the shallowness of my treatment of each case; indeed, each
of these mythological figures deserves an article at least as long as
this post to analyse them properly. Now, however, I return to the
essential point of why this post is on this blog – what Quakers
might take from this to benefit their conceptions of the Divine, what
it might allow us to consider in Quaker practice. This will not be
for everyone, but for those who would like to try to integrate these
ideas with their practice, even just as an experiment, here are some
thoughts.
As I mentioned
previously, there are two key ways that non-pagan Quakers might find
a use for pantheons and the figures from them. The first is in their
value as stories, and indeed as collections of stories, and the other
is in personal spiritual practices such as prayer and holding in the
light.
In the first case,
there are some wonderful things to draw on in terms of wisdom
deities. For those socialised to think of God, or gods, as perfect
beings, the lives of these great figures of mythology can be quite a
surprise.
When the Norse gods, or Æsir,
felt they needed to bind the wolf Fenrir, and he broke every chain
they could find, they had the dwarves make them a magic ribbon.
However, Fenrir would not cooperate with being bound in the ribbon,
and only agreed to hold still if a god would place his hand in the
wolf's mouth. All but Týr refused, and so he placed his hand in
Fenrir's mouth while the others wrapped him in the ribbon. When
Fenrir realised that the ribbon bound him effectively, he bit off
Týr's hand. Was this wise? Truly, it should be obvious what would
happen in this scenario, and Týr was god of both war and wisdom; a
warrior needs both hands, and even a general will win respect more
readily if he is not maimed. And yet, the gods together had concluded
that it was necessary to bind Fenrir. Alone of the children of Loki
and Angrboða (the others being the world-serpent Jormungand and the
death goddess Hel), the Æsir saw such devastating potential for
destruction in Fenrir that they felt they should raise him
themselves, and again, only Týr was confident enough to approach and
feed him. As he grew, they feared for what he might do even with
them, in Asgard. Yet they could not release him either. Thus, to save
the peoples of the various worlds, they felt they had to bind him.
Surely Týr, in his wisdom, would have been most viscerally sure of
this – and so he made that sacrifice.
As patron of artisans,
Athena enjoyed and celebrated the work of many men and women in many
crafts, but the Olympian gods were also prideful. Woe betide any
mortal who claimed that their skill at any craft could rival that of
the appropriate god! Such a story is that of Arachne, who claimed her
work at the loom rivalled that of Athena, and disclaimed any
involvement of Athena in her own skill. Athena appeared and asked if
she stood by this boast, and Arachne asserted that she did – and so
a contest began. Telling differ at this point, as to the nature of
what they wove, and who won. Ovid tells that Athena wove a tapestry
showing times that mortals had challenged the gods, and what happened
when they lost, while Arachne wove hers showing the mistreatment of
mortals by the gods. Same say that Athena won, and others, Arachne;
either in rage at the hubris of the mortal, or in pity for her
suicide (possibly brought on by Athena's own actions to teach her
humility), or doubt of her craft after her loss to the goddess,
Athena, resurrecting her in the cases where it was necessary, turned
Arachne into a spider, so she might weave forever. This is clearly
the actions of one who is fallible, taking pride in their superior,
supernatural abilities, and either vengeance or a rather twisted form
of pity. Is it wise, this thing done by wisdom herself? Was this
necessary in some way to teach the mortals, or does it instead teach
us that even the wisest can do things that are, apparently, wrong?
Reflecting on such
stories during worship or other reflection may, in my experience,
create new channels of thought in your mind, and such channels give
the Divine new ways to speak to you. As you reflect on stories of
gods and monsters, an insight that is not the product of your own
rational intellect may arise – and even if that insight be directly
related to the story, it can help teach you things of broader
applicability.
Likewise, in prayer –
if you practice prayer as such, and do not consider it blasphemous to
broaden it away from the god or gods you usually consider – you
might consider, even address your thoughts to, these figures of such
complex character and rich story background. I have known many
liberal Quakers who pray, to the Christian God or to one or more
others, not in the sense of petitioning for a particular thing –
such as good fortune in some endeavour, or wisdom in approaching a
problem – but as a way of knowing the Divine and hoping for its
guidance in some matter. Considering the Divine with the face of some
pagan divinity, if you do not consider it blasphemous, is perhaps a
way of refining your thoughts and prayers, making it clearer to
yourself, as well as the Divine, what sort of outcome you are looking
for, where you want that guidance to take you. If you have a problem
to solve, especially when it seems that no outcome you can see is
good, invoking, or even just evoking, a figure representing wisdom
may be an effective way to do that. I would say that one of the
greatest tests of wisdom is finding the right choice when all choices
look ill, and I think reflecting on Týr, Athena and Isis in that
situation will likely do no harm – and perhaps it will do good.
Closely related
to prayer, the practice of “holding in the light” is common, and
our understanding of what it means is very varied. For some it is
like intercessory prayer, and for others it is a little like magic –
the application of will to effect some change in the world. When we
hold another in the light during their illness, or troubled times in
their life, we hope, in some way, to improve that situation.
Sometimes, some Friends, will feel that they have the potential to
actually, in some small way, improve the health or reduce the
troubles; others may see it only has helping give someone the
strength to cope themselves, possibly by some immaterial transfer of
strength from you to them. Whichever way you look at it, you're
hoping for some effect – or else why are you doing it? Depending on
the conception you hold of how that effect might take place, the
consideration of a figure appropriate to the problem may help you
direct that energy, or help that effect take place. Where you know
someone who has a difficult decision before them, or or wrestling
with a difficult personal situation, or even is just preparing for
exams, a wisdom figure may help in this way.
I hope these
reflections have been interesting, and perhaps, for some of you,
helpful. I do not suggest that all Quakers, or even all liberal
Quakers, should try any of the things I suggest. I merely put them
forward as ideas that people may wish to try, particularly when they
are feeling ready to be open to new light. It may be that these ideas
hold no light for you, or are so incompatible with your own
experience and conceptions of the divine that it is impossible for
you to approach them; that's fine, and we all have different
experiences. For those of you not so precluded, however, it might be
worth trying something like this at some point, when it seems like it
might be a good way to approach a problem or situation that lies
before you.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
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Did you enjoy this post, or find it interesting, informative or stimulating? Do you want to keep seeing more of these posts? Please consider contributing to my Patreon. More information is available in the post announcing my use of Patreon.
