In our last meeting, we were discussing the pros and cons of the anthropomorphic conception of deity. If you'll recall from our last meeting, I suggested that conceiving of deities—gods and goddesses—in human form. Basically they're bigger, smarter, more beautiful than us—and their immortal, too— has its advantages. You can attempt to reason with or persuade an anthropomorphic god or goddess in ways you cannot persuade or try to reason with the animistic clock goddess. You can, hopefully, try to understand what is at work in the universe a lot better—the behavior of the forces of nature—if you attribute human personalities to them.
For example, right around midterm I predict you all are going to start trying to read my mind to see what kind of junk I'm going to put on the essay exam. Don't bother. It's not worth the trouble. It's a natural human instinct to try to comprehend that which they're not exactly sure about in terms they can understand. Therefore, as human civilization becomes more advanced, humans tend to conceive of gods and goddesses in human form. That's how we get, if you'll recall from last time, from that big ball of fire in the sky, which proceeds from east to west which the ancient Greeks called it Hyperion, which is ancient Greek for "that thingy that goes on high," big bright animistic ball of gas. Whereas, later still, we get this anthropomorphic deity named Helios. To a certain extent, Helios–let’s draw a nice bright sun crown on him, too. He is the sun god, after all. He is a god with human form who drives a chariot, wears a crown on his head, and gets to, you know, meet a lot of interesting women on his travels. The advance is that you can pray to Helios, you can understand Helios, or try to persuade or bribe Helios in ways you cannot bribe or pray to a big ball of gas.
The shortcoming of anthropomorphism and the shortcoming of attributing human personalities, character traits, behavior patterns, and the like to gods and goddesses is, sometimes they get so human that you really can't believe in them anymore. Let's briefly consider—briefly, because this is a review—the Greek god, Helios. He works long hours. He never gets a vacation. He grabs his loving on the run. When it turns out that he's becoming a daddy, does he spend any time with the kid? No, he's putting his career ahead of his family. Okay? Young Phaëthon, his son, grows up in a one-parent family and wants to know his father better. The father feels very bad about the way he has treated his son and decides to make it all up at once by giving him the keys to the chariot—with disastrous results. We're supposed to believe that these people are deities? This sounds more like a sitcom than anything else. That, I offer to you, is one shortcoming of an anthropomorphic conception of deities. More about that later.
It's time to create the universe. The ancient Greeks and Romans have left behind a couple of accounts of their views on the creation of the universe. These come from two primary sources. Number one is Hesiod, an ancient Greek fellow who lived right around 750 BC. He either lived then or some other time. The second major source is a Roman, who wrote in real, live Latin, named Ovid, who was alive around the time of Christ. If you subtract 750 from the current year, which is 1996 you get something like 1241. Try to think about what life was like 750 years ago in 1241 BC. It was nasty, brutish and short. The average life expectancy—average life expectancy—for men was probably 32 years. For women it was 24. You probably lived in a little hut, praying for survival every day. Life was a lot grimmer 750 years ago than it is today. Does anybody have any trouble believing that? Does anybody want to believe that life was better 750 years ago, even to be difficult? No, Ray, I'm not interested. Consequently, you would expect people today to have a brighter outlook on life. Just be generally more at peace with the universe, more optimistic about their place in life today than they would be 750 years ago. Does that make sense, Elizabeth? I caught you yawning. Don't you dare yawn in my class. Only I yawn in my class. Consequently, we can expect Ovid to have a much more optimistic world view than Hesiod.
If you want to have a nice multi-syllabic German word to throw around I give extra points for this. I give extra points to people who use this word on essays. The word is "weltanschauung." Do we have any German students here? Anybody who is German? Well, good. Then you can’t criticize my pronunciation. Weltanschauung is an all-encompassing, wonderful German buzzword for everything about your view on life, everything about a civilization’s view on life. Hesiod, who lived in much tougher times, will have a darker, more negative weltanschauung. Whereas, Ovid, who lived in kinder, gentler times, will have a kinder, gentler, more optimistic weltanschauung. Okay, for those of you with parents and grandparents who grew up in the Depression, you will find out that they have a more depressing weltanschauung than do we, I guess.
What we're going to find out is that Ovid takes a lot of the details of Hesiod's creation. As a matter of fact, he takes pretty much the whole thing—hook, line, and sinker. He changes a few names, translates it into Latin, and calls it his own. Today, that would be called plagiarism and don't you do it. But, in ancient times, it was sincere admiration, sincere tribute to what Hesiod did. Well, I've babbled on enough. Let's talk about creation. I think I mentioned to you last time that the ancient civilizations in general tend to explain the world about them in terms that they can understand. This means that the universe was not created, but born. Born out of what? To the ancient Greeks, according to Hesiod, the universe was born from something called chaos. Today, it's used as a synonym for a disorderly situation or what not. The word "chaos," to the ancient Greeks, means void, a great big empty space.
It doesn't take a whole lot of imagination to recognize that the ancient Greeks conceived of chaos, this great big empty void, as a cosmic womb out of which the world is born. If you think that's weird, I promise you it'll get weirder. I pause for your questions up to this point. Hesiod teaches us that the universe was born, if you will, out of chaos. Okay, Christen, you’re yawning. You don’t have any questions for me yet? Okay. Excellent. I’m doing my usual excellent job. Chaos brought to life, all by herself—well actually the word "chaos" in ancient Greek is of the neuter gender, neither male nor female, just confuse matters further, I guess—Chaos brought into life five children. I'm going to erase Helios and I'm going to erase Phaëthon and leave weltanschauung up on the board for a while, because the order in which Hesiod describes the creation of the universe is interesting. I think it's interesting. First created was Gaia or the Earth.
In ancient Greek times the earth was conceived of like a giant Frisbee made of dirt. Okay. That's what I'm trying to draw here. Gaia is also known as Geya or Gaya, or what have you. Also created was Tartarus, which is the Underworld. Okay, that area which is below the earth. We had Erebus, which is the darkness under the earth. We have Night with a capital "N", which is the darkness above the earth. Did I leave one out? Or did I cover them all? Erebus is the darkness down here. Eros, what is Eros? Love! Okay, here we are talking about the physical features of the universe; Tartarus the boundary of the underworld, Erebus the darkness of the underworld, Gaia the earth, Night the darkness above the earth, and Love. What's love got to do with it? Why is it there? Somebody answer. I know. It's there in my lecture notes. Somebody tell my why you've got to have love. Everything is born, not created. What’s your name? Phil? Way to go, Phil. Everything is born, not created. There has got to be this cosmic urge to rut. These gods and goddesses must copulate copiously in order to beget the rest of the features of the universe.
Before we go into the next generation of deities here, I fully expect at least one person will be wanting to jump out of their chair and say, "wait a minute this is pretty sick. All the incest going on here. What gives?" Keep in mind that the dating pool as of this stage in world history is mighty small. Gaia, all by herself, brings into existence Uranus—and please do pronounce it that way—the sky, Pontus, who is the ocean—the ancient Greeks thought of the ocean as surrounding the giant Frisbee of the earth—and mountains here and there and what not. So far, so good. Gaia brought these creatures into existence by herself. I should also point out that, so far, we are dealing with an animistic conception of deity. That is to say, Uranus is the ancient Greek word for sky. Gaia is the ancient Greek word for earth. Pontus is the ancient Greek word for ocean. Yeah, we have an earth goddess, and her name is Earth.
Up to this point, I would be willing to bet that when this view is current...it's a very old, very antique, view. By the time that Hesiod was writing this down, it was open to question whether this was what really happened. Although, interestingly enough, Hesiod believes every single word he writes. He actually believes that what I'm going to describe next actually happened. We are dealing with a purely animistic conception of gods and goddesses. No personalities, no—or very few (I’m starting to hedge.)—human behavior traits. Gaia next mingles in love with her son, Uranus—remember the dating pool is very small at this point in the mystery of the universe—and produces oodles and oodles of children. It's necessary for gods at the beginning to ancient creation myths to be very, very studly. It's necessary for goddesses to be very, very fertile. Gaia and Uranus have three groups of children. Group number one is commonly known as the Titans. We've already met two of the Titans, Hyperion, the big ball of fire in the sky, and his wife, Thea, which is just an ancient Greek word which means "godly." Neither here nor there.
These 12 Titans are, I would say, semi-anthropomorphic. That is to say, they do have personalities. They generally are portrayed with human faces and human bodies and the like, but they are not quite as anthropomorphic as are the last generation of deities led by Zeus and Hera. Uranus is the sky god. Gaia is the earth mother. They have 12 children who are Titans, and Uranus is pleased with them. By the way, does anybody want to guess why Uranus is the boss in this marriage? Anybody want to go out on a limb? Very good. Patrilinial, patriarchal society, even though Gaia is Uranus's mother and wife— just keep in mind the following question: "What, precisely, are Uranus's qualifications for ruling the universe?" Ask yourself that question. What, precisely, are Uranus's qualifications for ruling the universe? Because he is the boss. He is the leader in this relationship.
They have a whole mess of other kids known as the Hecatonchires. The Hecatonchires are very ugly. They have—how does this go?—two arms each, no, 50 arms each or 100 arms each—there you go—with 100 hands. There we go. I was just doing the math in my head. In order for them to have 100 hands they must also have 100 arms. They are very, very ugly. In addition to the 100-handers, they also have three kids, who are Cyclopes. No matter how hard you try, it is very difficult to draw a cute little Cyclops baby. These three kids are also very, very ugly. They are so ugly, in fact, that Uranus decides to banish them to the underworld. Now, we are starting to pick up anthropomorphic traits being assigned to animistic gods and goddesses. You'll recall that I said “Uranus is the Greek word for “sky”. “Gaia” is the ancient Greek word for “earth”. These children of Uranus the sky god and Gaia the earth goddess are so ugly that Uranus decides to put them into the underworld. That's where we're going to leave them for the time being. We'll leave them there for about five minutes while I ask again for questions.
Crystal? The 100-handers. You can call them the 100-handers. Yep, they’re all down there in Tartarus. Mark? All by herself. Well, yes it is. The technical term for that—I'm not going to put it on the test—is parthenogenesis. It means birth from a virgin. Once you've encountered more ancient accounts of creation, you will be considerably less surprised. Well, not to give it away, Mark, but we're going to find a time when she was wondering that herself. She probably started to wonder that herself. Farrah Lynn? Brilliant question, Farrah Lynn. Why was there a need for darkness, right? What comes first? Darkness or light? I know that’s a question on the order of what comes first, the chicken or the egg, but, in most civilizations, darkness proceeds light. It's kind of fixated on what is beneath rather than above. We can get back to that one later, actually, when we talk about the mystery religions. But I'm getting some questions. That's good. More questions, maybe one I can actually answer? Okay then I will plow on to give you another buzzword.
The ancient Greeks tended, like most other ancient civilizations, to explain life about them in terms they could understand. How many times have I said that already? My theory of teaching is to repeat that over and over again until you learn it, only to make me shut up. They conceived of the universe in terms they could understand. When they asked, “How did the vegetation get here?” they thought about the one process of creation that they knew something about, which was sex. Vegetation comes about through sex. The sky god, who is on top, and the earth goddess, who is on the bottom, perform, if you will, the love deed. At the culmination of the love deed, of the sexual act, rain takes place, which stands for the seed, which mother earth receives and nurtures in her entrails until it is time to give birth to vegetation. Now, no doubt, you think that this is pretty silly. Although if you have ever been caught out in the middle of a thunderstorm, all of a sudden, you might not think it's so strange. The ancient Greeks, God bless them, are only applying what they know about human creation to the creation of vegetation.
The name for this setup, this concept in which a sky god and an earth goddess has sex, culminating in rain which stands for the seed which impregnates the earth goddess, which causes her to bring up all sorts of good things to eat. This thing is called hieros gamos, which is ancient Greek for sacred marriage, the sacred marriage between the sky god and the earth goddess. It exists in other civilizations. Okay? It is a pretty popular explanation. Gaia and Uranus are the first example of the Greek version of the hieros gamos. I've been known to throw that on essay questions. There are going to be more. For the most part, you ever find yourself writing about this on an essay question—I don't know how much more blatant I can be—you might point out that this first version of the hieros gamos ancient Greek myth, Gaia and Uranus, is almost totally animistic. Gaia is the ancient Greek word for earth. Uranus is the ancient Greek word for sky. They mingle in love through the agency of Eros and it explains the vegetation. It also explains the whole raft of kids, the 12 good-looking Titans, the 100 ugly Hecatonchires, the 100-handers, and the three ugly Cyclopes. I pause for a question up to this point. I think I'm explaining this well. Mark? No, it's kind of embarrassing, Mark, because this Eros is kind of an animistic urge to rut. It gets kind of embarrassing, because the goddess Aphrodite also has a son named Eros, who is a very handsome, studly looking, completely anthropomorphic guy. It's like the two people in the room who say they're Napoleon. If Mona and I both insist that we're Napoleon, when you're thinking about this like the ancient Greeks thought about this, we could both be Napoleon. Good question, very well answered.
Gaia and Uranus have the 12 nice kids and the whole pacel of ugly kids. The ugly kids get sent down to the underworld. How many people in this room are moms? How many of the people in this room are mothers? Thank you. You are probably the nicest person in the whole wide world unless— has anybody seen this behavior in their mom—I have a mom like this, too. Nicest person in the world, until you mess with one of her kids. Gaia is a loving, nurturing, giving goddess, but Uranus has just messed with her kids, bringing out what I fondly refer to as the maternal urge to kill. Where an otherwise laid-back, easy-going average female becomes a fanged monster, with a blood lust—you ever have that? Okay. Dads have it, but moms have it real bad. They lift up cars and throw them and stuff like that when they really have the adrenaline pumping. She goes to her children, the Titans, and says, "Which of you will avenge your siblings? Which of you will have revenge on your father, Uranus, for sending the 100-handers, the Hecatonchires and the Cyclopes down to Tartarus?" She asks them in their birth order. “Nope.” “Nope.” “Nope.” “Nope.” “No, thanks, Mom.” “Nope.” “Nope.” Like most siblings. I'm quite sure if my mom ask my siblings to do something like that for me, they would say, "No, let him rot, let him rot." But the youngest, Cronus, the baby of the bunch, says, "I'll do it mom."
And so, according to Hesiod, who believed, by the way, that every word of this was absolutely true. We'll let Hesiod pick up the call. After Gaia and Uranus had enjoyed the love deed and Uranus was relaxed, Cronus withdrew from the bosom of mother earth an enormous stone sickle—yes, you can see where this is going gentlemen—and castrated Uranus. Normally I accompany this with a rather grotesque gesture. The severed testicles of Uranus drop into the ocean, causing foam to rise up from the ocean. Remember these sky gods are very fertile characters. Up from the foam comes, rising up, a goddess. Remember that Hesiod believes that this is all true, and he believes anyone that chuckles at this and laughs is going to fry. Okay, up from the foam comes bubbling the goddess. What's her name? Scott? Aphrodite, very good. Did you read the book? I don’t mean to make fun of you. Thank you. What is she the goddess of? The goddess of love and beauty. You got it. She's known to the Romans as Venus. “She’s our Venus.” What is appropriate about the circumstances of her birth? Farrah Lynn? Okay, we'll take that giggle and smirk as the acknowledgement that, of course, the goddess of love, the goddess of the urge to rut, the goddess who's got every other goddess and god in the whole Greek pantheon wrapped around her finger. That is a very logical way for her to be born.
Also from the drops of blood from the severed genitalia of Uranus that hit the earth, we get creatures known as the Furies. They are not very nice. We will meet them later. We now have a second generation of gods and goddesses ruling the universe, according to the ancient Greeks, because Uranus has lost his credentials to rule the universe. Supposedly, he is assigned a position in Tartarus. It's not one of these deals where, "okay, let's all stop believing in Uranus," because, how do you stop believing in the sky? Oh yes, the god, Uranus, is still there to the ancient Greeks, but he's no longer the boss. He's lost his credentials. Gaia, likewise, continues with her position as earth goddess, a difficult one to give up, but she is no longer a part of the ruling couple. The ruling couple, the king and queen, the master and the mistress of the universe are Cronus and Rhea. Cronus, after all, is the god who castrated Uranus. Rhea is his wife. He took the risk. He gets the benefits. Cronus and Rhea are the second example in ancient Greek mythology of the hieros gamos, the sacred marriage between sky god and earth goddess.
Now, I know what you're going to say. Cronus is not the sky. No he's not. Cronus is a god who is mostly anthropomorphic. Rhea is a goddess who is mostly anthropomorphic, although I will suggest the ancient Greek word "rhea" means "flowing." It means... well, let's not dwell on that too much. It’s not a big jump. It means abundant. It means giving. It is an attribute of mother earth, “the abundant one”. Cronus and Rhea, king and queen of the universe, have human characteristics. They have human personality traits. Rhea has the typical ones you would expect. She has the—what did I name that syndrome just a couple of minutes ago—she has the maternal urge to kill syndrome. We're going to find that. And Cronus also has a discernable human character trait. Does anybody want to guess Cronus's single, distinguishing human character trait is? Stupidity. He is as dumb as a box of rocks. Here's what happens: Cronus thinks he's mighty smart. He thinks about how he came to power. He hears an oracle tell him that, “You will be succeeded by one of your children.” He doesn't have many options. He is, after all, a fertile, sky kind of god. His wife is a fertile, earth kind of goddess. No, Kristen, they are not the earth and sky respectively, but Eros is still working. They have to mingle in love. This is the dawn of time. There is no such thing as birth control. And what kind of birth control is going to hold down the supreme god and goddess, anyway?
So, every time that Rhea gives birth to one of her children, Cronus is waiting to take the little baby and devour the little baby. The oldest child is Hera. When she was born she is brought kicking and screaming into the world, and Cronus eats her. Poseidon, who will grow up to be the influential sea god when he is born, gulp. Hades, Hestia, Demeter; gulp, gulp, gulp. After five of these occurrences, I'm not sure Rhea is too quick on the uptake herself , but she catches on before Cronus does. My wife assures me that this is the way it works out. I'm sick and tired of carrying these children to term, giving birth to them, and then having my husband eat them. She goes to consult her mom and dad, Gaia and Uranus. We don't have this story written out, but apparently they give her some advice that she resolves to carry through. The next time she's about ready to give birth to her sixth, last and youngest child, a boy named Zeus, she conceives a plan. When she gives birth to the little dude, instead of wrapping the baby Zeus in swaddling clothes and saying, "here you go," she has the midwife wrap up a rock in swaddling clothes. And, when Cronus says, "okay give me the kid," they hand him the rock, which is wrapped in swaddling baby clothes. Guess what he does? He eats it. What a genius!
Meanwhile, the little, infant, baby Zeus is taken away to the island of Crete, which is an island in the eastern Mediterranean Sea, where he is raised by a magical goat with the horn of plenty. It was a wonder goat with a couple of horns and you broke off one of her horns and all sorts of good food like apples, oranges, bacon and Bavarian cream doughnuts would come out. And various men with shields and spears were stationed outside the cave door so that, whenever little Zeus started howling and yowling, they would clash their spears against their shields so Cronus wouldn't notice that Rhea had pulled a fast one on him, which, in fact, he did. I pause for your questions here. Crystal, you have a question? Mike? Of course, it is fated that Zeus is going to be the master of the universe. He grows to adulthood or young adulthood in this tiny cave in Crete. One day, when he's in his late teens, he decides that he is going to claim what is his own. We don't have the details of what's coming next. So if anybody raises their hand and says, "Wait a minute. What are the logistics of this?" I'm going to raise up my hands and say, "Are you threatening me?" I cannot answer the question, “How, precisely, did this happen?” According to Hesiod, who believed that every word of this is true, Zeus caused Cronus to vomit up his five siblings.
How many of you have taken PSY121 and are familiar with Dr. Freud's theory of penis envy, in which women behave the way they do because they wish they were guys, basically, right? Here we have, in a myth that goes back more that 4,000 years and was preserved by a patriarchal society, an instance of a father devouring his young after his wife gives birth to them and then spewing them back up. This is the first Greek instance of womb envy. There will be more. So, next time you women hear the theories about penis envy or the myths concerning penis envy, you can use this. It's a good story. The battle between the two generations of gods, the Titans, and Zeus and his siblings is known as the Titanomachy, which is, basically, ancient Greek for Clash of the Titans. I prefer not to call it Clash of the Titans, because it evokes images of poor, down-on-his-luck Lawrence Olivia acting in a movie with that talented thespian, Harry Hamlin, great actor. Great actor, right? Is Clash of the Titans about Perseus? Okay, we'll talk more about that later. I promise. What I want to stress now is not so much the dirty details of the battle, but, again, we have two generations of gods and goddesses duking it out for who gets to be the ruler of the universe. Pause for a question. The production values, the special effects are the best the Greeks can muster: Cyclopes throwing thunderbolts, exploding mountaintops, heat and rain and storms and thunder. Yes? They were just basically there. This is a struggle between the Titans, on one hand, and Zeus and his siblings in the other. Well, have you ever watched a war movie where there weren't any tanks exploding? I don't mean to be a snot, but I mean.... or a Rambo movie in which nobody gets killed? They break off mountaintops and throw them and divert boiling rivers and stuff like that. You're threatening me, but thank you. That's a very noble thing to do.
There are only two out of the whole pack of Titans supporting Zeus. Actually, it's just one Titan and her son. This is important. The Titanette, Themis, supports Zeus. This is important because the word "Themis" in ancient Greek means "right" with a capital "R". Of course, the goddess of right and justice is going to be on Zeus's side because the author, Hesiod, believed that every word of this is happening. He believes implicitly that Zeus is the boss. He doesn't want to say that right, with a capital "R," and justice were on Cronus's side, does he? Also Themis's older son. Themis has two sons. Their names are Prometheus and Epimetheus. “Prometheus,” in ancient Greek, means "Mr. Foresight," the guy who knows what's going to happen next. Recognizing a winner when he sees one, Prometheus goes over to the Zeus team. Epimetheus, his younger, dumber brother, Mr. Hindsight, sides with Cronus, sides with the loser. There's really no point in laboring the details. The production value of the clash between gods and Titans are as best as they can be around 705 BC. Zeus and his siblings win.
Zeus and his siblings are completely anthropomorphic. Zeus's rise to power represents the rise of a third, completely anthropomorphic generation of gods and goddesses. These gods and goddesses, especially Zeus and Hera, are so anthropomorphic that it's difficult to believe in them sometimes. Hera and Zeus also represent the third and final instance of hieros gamos in Greek mythology—the third and final. Pardon? Zeus and Hera. Of course. She’s his big sister. Why didn't Rhea side with Zeus? Well, she just gets credit for being on her husband 's side. Stand by your guy, though he may cheat and lie. That sort of thing. We just have it on Hesiod's authority that Themis and Prometheus alone of the Titans sided with Zeus.
Now, it probably is somewhat of a give-away that I told you that Hera and Zeus represent the third and last version of the hieros gamos in Greek mythology. That means I'm telling you ahead of time that Zeus will not be replaced. Let me, before we conclude for the day, let you in on one little secret, as a teaser, if you will. Then you can all go. Don't close all your books all at once or I'll make you stay for another five minutes. Zeus doesn't know for a fact that he is the final king of the universe. When Zeus thinks about how he came to power; once Zeus thinks about how his dad took power from his grandfather, he gets a little paranoid. As we're going to find out at the beginning of our next exciting class, Zeus has good reasons for being paranoid. You've been a good class. Thank you very much. See you tomorrow.
Good morning and welcome to LLT121 Classical Mythology. In our last class meeting, the god, Zeus came to power. The god Zeus, who, for all of the classical period of Greek history, was regarded as the supreme god. Zeus's wife, Hera, is regarded as the supreme goddess. Together, they are the third, if you will, royal couple of Greek mythology. I have very thoughtfully written up on the board here for you the three instances of the hieros gamos in Greek mythology. Hieros gamos is an ancient Greek term for holy marriage. It involves the sky god and the earth goddess. It originally is an aetiology, an explanation for the appearance of vegetation. In version number one, the oldest version, the animistic version, Uranus, the sky god, and his wife, Gaia, the earth goddess, make love. Rain takes place and vegetation grows. I know. That sounds pretty silly, but keep in mind that we're talking about a very ancient civilization, primitive as can be, and that they're trying to explain the world about them in terms they can understand; sex.
In version number two, Cronus, the youngest child of Gaia and Uranus, deposes his father by cutting off his testicles. Cronus cuts off Uranus’s testicles. Now I know what you're thinking. Your name is? You're thinking, "How is it that the sky, all of a sudden, has sprouted male genitalia?" You were thinking that weren't you? Good. Good, good, good. The correct answer is, "I don't know." We start to see little scraps and pieces of anthropomorphic beliefs crawling even into the animistic level of the story. Somehow, Uranus, the sky god, who is the sky, has acquired some genitals somewhere in the middle of this story. After Cronus severs the genitalia of his dad, Uranus, Cronus and his wife, Rhea, are king and queen, master and mistress of the universe—the second instance of the hieros gamos in ancient Greek mythology.
We only really have one or two good myths about Cronus and Rhea. Well, one, the so-called Deception of Cronus, in which Rhea gives birth to the couple's first five children. Cronus, who knows or remembers how he came to power, isn't interested in any repeats of that situation. He devours his first five children as soon as they are born. After the fifth birth, Rhea gets a clue. Rhea visits Gaia and Uranus and they tell her about a neat trick that she can pull on Cronus. Sure enough, when Rhea gives birth to her sixth child, instead of little baby Zeus—that's who it is—she hands Cronus a rock covered in baby clothes, which Cronus devours. Later still, Zeus grows to young adulthood in a cave, causes Cronus to vomit up his five siblings. Zeus and his five siblings, with the help of Prometheus, Mr. Foresight, take over the universe from Cronus in a big, huge, nasty war. That's, I think, where we left it last time.
I want to pause for any questions you may have before we push the envelope. Before we take it a bit further. Ray? No, thank you for that question. I wrote it on the board for a purpose. Hesiod is an ancient Greek who lived around 750 years before Christ. He lived in a time period where life was nasty, brutish, and short, and he writes as a fundamental believer in the truth of Zeus's justice, or Zeus as cosmic ruler of the universe. He believes in the literal truth of everything that he tells us in his poetry. He really does believe, for instance, that the sky god, Uranus, had genitalia and that these were cut off by Cronus. Okay, does that help? Ovid was very familiar with the work of Hesiod, but we're going to find out , not in this particular class, but shortly that Ovid, who comes 750 years later is going to have a kinder, gentler conception of the creation of the universe and of humankind. Good question, well answered. Any other questions? Josh? You are Josh, right? Who are you? Jeremy. Jeremy, you got any questions? Good. I like that.
Zeus, we're going to find out, and Hera, the third instance of the hieros gamos in ancient Greek mythology are anthropomorphic, human shape and human behavior to a fault. Following up on Ray's excellent observation slash question, Hesiod who believes implicitly in the justice of Zeus and in the absolute truth of everything he is saying, is in a kind of hard place to admit, to explain, some of the nasty stunts that Zeus is going to pull on his wife. One of Zeus's names, one of his epithets, one of the things that the ancient Greeks call him is, "The Father of Gods and Men," because he literally is the father of gods and men. He has thousands of children. What kind of personality do you think that Zeus is going to have? Your name is still Jennifer, right? Okay, I didn’t recognize you without your cast. Jennifer, if Zeus is the father of gods and men, what kind of personality is he going to have as a husband? He's a jerk. He is a lying, philandering, sleazeball who will sleep with anyone and anything. He has to. He's the father of all these gods and humans, but he has a wife and he has myths about him and his wife. Hera can't get even with Zeus for all his little extramarital exploits because he's Zeus and this is a patriarchal society. So Hera develops a personality which is not very complimentary. She's the kind of goddess who stalks around with a rolling pin, not looking for her husband, but for all the mortal women and goddesses that her husband sleeps with.
Hesiod himself was kind of puzzled as to how to explain these two different conceptions of Zeus. Zeus, actually, is credited with the worst pick-up line in all of western civilization. Zeus used the worst pick-up line in all of western civilization. He used it on his own wife—and it worked. That's a teaser for our next exciting class. It's pretty odd, when you think about the three different versions of the hieros gamos in Greek mythology. Gaia and Uranus are completely or almost completely animistic, the sky and the earth. Zeus and Hera are completely anthropomorphic to a fault. Cronus gained power over Uranus by castrating him. Zeus gained power over Cronus by fighting a war with him. It sounds kind of odd to hear about gods fighting wars, gods giving birth to their own children by vomiting.
But in fact, these themes show up in a number of different mythologies. One such is being the Hittite civilization. If you can see up here on these lands of the Bible map, just try to imagine the country of Turkey in your minds. Smack dab in the middle of what is now called Turkey was a civilization called the Hittite Empire. Does anybody care to guess who founded the Hittite Empire? Come on. That wasn’t bad. It wasn’t right, but it wasn’t bad. The Hittites! The Hittites, like the ancient Greeks, spoke a language that belongs to the Indo-European language family. That is to say, the same language family that Latin, ancient Greek, modern Greek, English, Norwegian, and German belong to. There is some linguistic evidence that suggests that the Hittites and the ancient Greeks shared a common ancestor way, way up the family tree, but, if you think about Greece and Turkey, you will think that these two civilizations were separated by hundreds of miles. Moreover, this myth that I'm about to tell you, this Hittite Cronus myth, is dated with confidence to the time period around 1500 BC. This is a time at which the ancient Greeks barely knew how to write. Meanwhile, the Hittites are writing down this Hittite Cronus myth. The Hittite civilization didn't stay on the map very long. There was a lot of civilizations in the eastern Mediterranean destroying one another. But before the Hittites took off, they left us this enchanting story about the change of power in the universe. It's called the Hittite Cronus myth. It'll be on your test.
In the beginning, the supreme ruler of the universe, according to the Hittites, was Alalus. Alalus ruled the entire universe for nine years, assisted by his trusty henchman, Anu. After nine years Anu turned on Alalus and deposed him. We don't know any more of the details. After nine years, the chief of staff, Anu, deposed the chief, Alalus. He becomes the second supreme ruler of the universe according to the Hittites. For nine years, Anu rules the universe, ably assisted and abetted by his number two man, his chief of command, a god named Kumarbi. After nine years—Elizabeth, do you want to guess what happens?—Kumarbi deposes Anu. You can see that whoever made up this particular myth was not really using up a lot of imagination here. Or maybe they were just saving it, because we do have some details about this. Not only did Kumarbi overthrow Anu and make himself the chief of the gods and the Hittite universe, Kumarbi castrates Anu—ding, ding, ding, ding; does that sound familiar? Okay, just checking—and then eats the severed genitalia of Anu. Oh, grotty! The ancient Hittites really believed this, by the way. I pause for your questions up to this point.
Kumarbi has castrated Anu. Kumarbi has eaten the severed genitals. Does anybody want to guess—you’re Kristen, right—what happens next? She shakes her head sadly. She doesn’t want to guess. Your name is? Jerod, do you want to guess? You’re pretty close, actually. He gets pregnant. This sounds like a bad Danny DeVito movie. Most of them are bad. He’s pregnant. Moreover, he's a pregnant guy with a problem. What's his problem? Well, I'll put it decorously. He is not equipped to give birth to children, shall we say? All the same, he vomits up four children. Does that sound familiar? Yes, good, well taught. Including one called Storm God. This child, Storm God, according to Hittite mythology, grows up and puts Kumarbi out of a job, becomes ruler of the universe. Why on earth did I tell you this weird story? Well, number one, hopefully it deflects a little weirdness from the Greek account in which Cronus castrates Uranus, then Cronus vomits up five of his six children, who join Zeus in deposing him. If you were to be taking my fine comparative mythology class, LLT321, we would examine several instances of other civilization mythologies in which this exact same thing sort of happens.
Pregnant gods giving birth or asking goddesses to help them give birth. Castrated gods. The universe being ripped up and created out of the destroyed body of a dead deity, humans created out of mud, blood, and spit. These two particular stories aren't necessarily all that weird. Another thing I want to point out to you, another reason why I told you this excellent, quote unquote, Hittite-Cronus myth. This is my present to you for showing up today. I'm putting it on the first quiz. Is that the parallels are instructive. Three generations Alalus, Anu, Kumarbi then Storm God. Uranus, Cronus, Zeus, then question mark. A good deal of influence is placed on the fertility aspect. We find out who Uranus's wife was. We find out who Cronus's wife is. We find out who Zeus's wife is. For whatever reason, the Hittites don't tell us about any wives of these supreme gods, which is, in and of itself, instructive. Another thing that I could bring up is that Alalus, Anu, and Kumarbi are finally replaced by Storm God. A storm is the opposite of civilization. A storm is something that destroys houses, and destroys people, and roads, and crops and the like. A storm god is usually a sign of anarchy, a destructive force. It's not coincidental that the Hittite Empire came to a very bad end.
I pause for your questions up to this point. If there are none, I've got some more Zeus stories to tell you. If ever you've gotten a promotion—most of you are just little kids, but some of us old folks might remember a situation, maybe, in which one day you were one of the workers and the next day you were promoted. You're an assistant manager and you are bossing around your old peers. Your old peers have no respect for you because they remember when you were a working shlub just like them. It becomes difficult. They wonder, "What makes Phil so special? Who died and made Phil the boss.?" It's the same thing with Zeus. In the very beginning of his career, Zeus gets no respect. The Giants are animals or creatures who are also born of Mother Earth. Supposedly, Gaia gave birth to these creatures known as Giants because she was angry at Zeus. It's nice to know that Gaia never changes type. Gaia got angry because Uranus put her kids in the ground. Now Gaia is angry because Zeus has deposed Cronus. What she does is she creates these creatures known as Giants. The giants start stacking mountains one on top of another in an attempt to bring Zeus down from his perch atop beautiful Mount Olympus. These two giants are stacking mountains on top of one another. However, what happens? Zeus reaches back, throws a thunderbolt. Boom! Whap, as John Madden would say. And pretty soon these Giants are no more. Supposedly, Zeus buried each Giant under a volcanic mountain. So that, when you're visiting Mount Etna, the volcano in Sicily, there's a Giant under there that Zeus threw there. Regina? Gaia. You bring up a good point. Remember, Gaia, just because she has been displaced as queen of the universe, has not ceased to exist. She's still very powerful. I might point out, since you bring this up, Regina—thank you—that it's very hard to keep a good earth mother goddess down.
Even though the Achaeans, the patriarchal, Indo-European speaking, warlike faction that invaded Greece on January 1, 2000 BC. Even though they got the upper hand, culturally, the myths about the all-powerful, all-fertile earth mother goddess cannot be suppressed. Are any of you familiar with a story in which humans built an enormous tower because they were feeling they were pretty special? They thought they were as good as God. And you know, God had to do what? Knock the thing down. It is the story of the Tower of Babel. More comparative mythology class fodder. In this version of this traditional story, it's two Giants. Zeus manages to put this rebellion down, but it doesn't do much for his personality. In story number two, challenge number two to Zeus, a creature by the name of Typhon or Typhoeus is born to Gaia. Gaia mingles in love with Tartarus and gives birth to a creature known as Typhon. Typhon is intended to challenge Zeus for rule of the universe. The battle between Typhon and Zeus takes longer and, by all accounts, is riskier. That is to say that Typhon had Zeus on the run. One popular story among the ancient Greeks is that Typhon's challenge to Zeus was so dangerous that many of the ancient Greek gods hid out down in ancient Egypt for a few years—in disguise. They put on animal heads so they wouldn't be recognized. This because ancient Egyptian gods and goddesses, often as not, will have the head of an animal. That's a cheesy aetiology. However, Zeus eventually gets the upper hand over Typhon and wins. End of challenge number two.
Does anybody know a word which we get from Typhon? Typhoon. What is a typhoon? Pardon? A sea storm. It's a storm. Guess what, Typhon is a storm god. Wow! As Atlas was heard to exclaim, it's a small world. Zeus puts down a challenge from a storm god in order to retain power over the universe. In the Hittite version of the story, Storm God takes over. Mark? Yeah, you sure can. I would just throw out, as a suggestion, that the Hittite civilization pretty much disappears by 1100 BC. Okay, you could possibly interpret that as the mythology of the Hittite reflecting their cultural circumstances. There is any number of nation-states jockeying for power in modern day Turkey, ancient Asia Minor. It's a less kind, less gentle world. Whereas, the ancient Greeks survived. Their civilization made a comeback. Zeus—excellent point, Mark—who stands for justice, authority and civilization defeats the powers of chaos. Boy, did I answer that one to death or what?
Okay. Perhaps you can understand why it is that Zeus is just a bit touchy. He's still a young god. He's still a kid. He has already put down two very dangerous challenges to his godhood, to his rule over the universe. Moreover, he hasn't forgotten how he's come to power. Nor has he forgotten how his dad had come to power. He's heard certain rumored prophecies that he might be succeeded someday. Like I said, you can understand why Zeus is just a little bit touchy. Our next stories—we're leaping ahead here into Unit Three, but I've done such a great job lecturing to you people that we've covered more ground than I thought possible (thank you)—is going to talk about the creation of humankind, which includes both mankind and womankind—although, we are going to find out, there are versions of the story in which there was just mankind and womankind came along later. These stories about the creation of humankind give us valuable insight into the ancient Greeks’ weltanschauung. Do we all remember weltanschauung? At least you're honest. I appreciate that. Weltanschauung is a big, long German word meaning outlook on the world. It includes your culture's own appreciation of the human's place in the world, the potential for human development, the hopes for development of a good society, whether there's a god or not, whether there are gods or not, whether the gods like you or dislike you, and so on and so forth. Your weltanschauung is your perception of your place in the universe around you.
Most of us have been brought up in the Judeo-Christian tradition, which teaches us that God created humans last for the purpose of ruling over and enjoying all of the good things he put on this earth. This, I would suggest, is an example of a positive weltanschauung. We are put here because God created us specifically to enjoy all the good things on this earth. We're going to find out that, in ancient Greek mythology, humans are created more or less as an afterthought. As a matter of fact, there are two or even three different accounts of how humans are created, according to the ancient Greeks. Which, to me at any rate, indicates a rather negative weltanschauung. That is to say that the Greeks really didn't see much point in life. The Greeks often wondered, "What are we doing here? We're freaks and losers." Well, at any rate, there are two major versions of the story of the creation of humankind. Our sources for the creation of humankind are Hesiod and Ovid again, but I, myself, have made up two different names for these stories. I'll call version number one, Prometheus and Mankind, because that's what it is. Version number two is called, The Ages of Humankind.
Confusingly, Hesiod, circa 750 BC, gives us both versions. It's kind of annoying. It makes me want to travel back in time, shake Hesiod by his collar—if he was wearing one—and ask him which of the two is right. Then he would call me a skeptical child of the 20th century and say, "They are both right, you Pagan. Now clear away from me before Zeus destroys us all with a thunderbolt." Actually, we can just assume that each story, in its own way, illustrates something to us about the ancient Greeks and the way they looked at things. Let's start out with Prometheus and Mankind.
In the beginning Zeus created men and these men had a pretty retched existence. Hesiod doesn't tell us very much about it, but suffice it to say that human creatures were not having a really good time. Then somebody took pity on them. Somebody took pity on the human race. It's our old friend, Prometheus. You will recall that Prometheus is the one Titans—actually he's not a full-fledged Titan, he's the son of a Titaness, Themis—but Prometheus is the Titan or Semi-Titan who recognizes Zeus was going to win, so he sided with Zeus. He has a high position in the Zeus administration, if you will. Prometheus, not Zeus, teaches the humans how to sacrifice, just as a favor to them. Keep in mind that, in a primitive society—and this story comes to us from a very primitive time in Greek society—that life is nasty, brutish, and short. The life expectancy is 32, 27 or 25 years. Mark? No I did not. Hesiod doesn't tell us, either. Okay, you Pagan, you. He can't tell us because, oh, maybe he took mud and water. How’s that? Hesiod doesn't consider that as important as the following little story. Prometheus decided to teach humans how to sacrifice.
Back in the dawn of time, when you sacrifice an animal to the gods and goddesses, what you're doing is actually trying to persuade the gods and goddesses to do you a favor. Your name is Erica, right? So if you have one cow, for example, and you sacrifice it to say, Zeus, you're expecting a pretty good favor, right? Does that make sense? You expect a pretty big favor. There's a considerable amount of risk involved if you sacrifice your one and only cow to Zeus in September. Why is this? It's all you have. If you kill Bossy, throw her on a fire, roast her completely, you are depriving yourself of what? Food, milk, fertilizer, hides for clothing. A cow is the most useful animal in the whole universe. In its day, a cow can pull a plow. In its day, a cow was the cutting edge of ancient technology. We only have one cow. If it's a cow and not a bull it can also have little cows and bulls, right? You're taking a risk when you sacrifice Bossy, the cow, to Zeus because he's Zeus. He doesn't have to do anything if he doesn't want to. Nice cow. Forget it.
Prometheus is the god who fixes all this. Prometheus says to the humans, "I will teach you a little trick. Next time you sacrifice Bossy, take the entrails and the guts and the junk—you know, the stuff you make headcheese out of— and cover it under a tasty-smelling layer of fat. Okay? Take the tripe, eyeballs, and the tongue and cover it with fat so it looks like a filet mignon. Then, what you do is you take the filet mignon and the other good cuts of meat and you cover them with hide, so it looks like it's just a bunch of junk and by-products. Then ask Zeus which of the two he wants. Will he take Pile A or Pile B? What is this? Ugh. Well, I’ll try it. Are you supposed to eat this? I kind of like it. Now Zeus comes down to earth. I once had a student who slipped me a piece of candy, said, “Here, try this.” In the middle of class, I discovered it was a red-hot. You see, that student tricked Zeus. He's still at this university today because he slipped me a red-hot. He should have graduated, but he slipped me a red-hot. Zeus abhors a wise guy. Zeus comes down to earth and takes a look at Pile A, the headcheese all covered in fat. He looks at Pile B, the filet mignon all covered with hides. And Prometheus, you can just see Prometheus, “Which is it going to be? Pile A or Pile B, Big Z? Which are you gonna take?”
Keep in mind that he's Zeus. Zeus knows everything right? Zeus picks Pile A. So they light Pile A up. He smells burning fat but no burning filet mignon. He smells burning headcheese. Has Zeus been tricked? Yeah, he has, but at the same time, he's Zeus. He can't be tricked. What we have here is an aetiology, a story which explains why it was that ancient Greeks would take the tripe and the headcheese and the tongues and the eyeballs, cover it over with fat and offer it to Zeus, saving the filet mignon and the brisket and all the other good parts of the late Bossy for themselves. They wanted to keep the good parts of the cow for themselves—the hide and all of that—but they had to explain, they had to have some rationale, they had to have some excuse, some reason why they could persuade themselves that Zeus was going to fall for this. Okay? And somebody has got to take the rap for this. Somebody has got to be the scapegoat. Somebody has got to pay. You can't fool Zeus. So here's what happens: Zeus takes fire away from mankind. Fire is good. Fire, as a leading social critic has once exclaimed, rules. “Fire rules.” What is fire good for? What can you do with fire? What’s your name? It’s still Scott. Okay, what can you do with fire, Scot? That’s often very good. You can cook food. Your name is? Okay, Snake Hat. What's another good thing you can do with fire? Heat your house, that is good. Your name is? Mitch, what's another good thing you can do with fire? Yeah, you can use it to frighten humans away. Your name is, Heather, right? What is another good thing you can use fire for? Any other good uses for fire? Light. Making tools. I mean, talk about a cow being the cutting edge of technology, fire is even better. And Zeus took fire away from humans because he was mad, because this wise guy, Prometheus, slipped him the sacrificial equivalent of a red-hot.
Notice, by the way, that Zeus doesn't take it out on Prometheus. Prometheus is a god. "I'm going to let Prometheus by this time. But I'm going to fix the humans by taking away fire." And Prometheus, even though Prometheus knew what he was doing—Prometheus’s name means Mr. Foresight and all of that—he knows who he's up against, nevertheless, Prometheus, that friend of humankind, sympathizes with the poor humans against nasty, mean Zeus and brings fire back to humankind. You have, no doubt, seen the statues. Prometheus is never, you know, this guy just shuffling along with fire hidden under his coat. Don't try that at home, anyway. He's always engaged in some heroic gesture, bringing fire down to the humans because Prometheus, darn it, is a culture hero. Prometheus is bring humans what they need to be civilized: fire. Prometheus is bringing them something that the chief god, Zeus, wishes to deny them. It makes Zeus look rather like a shmuck, doesn't it? He wants to deny humans this wonderful tool that drives animals away, that heats houses, that enables you to smelt and stuff. Zeus doesn't want you to have that. But, fortunately for you, Prometheus does.
How angry is Zeus when he finds out that Prometheus has stolen fire and given it back to the humans? He's very angry, indeed. He chains Prometheus up out on the Caucuses Mountains in the modern day country of Georgia, where he is spread out across mountain peaks. Okay? And every day a giant gutter eagle comes to eat his liver. The liver grows back every day, because Prometheus is, after all, a god. Okay, that's Prometheus's punishment. Yes, Mark? Why didn’t Zeus just take the fire back again? May I ask you Mark, do you ever watch soap opera? You know there's this guy named Patch. He's really good looking. One week he's a racecar driver and the next he's an open heart surgeon. Then he's the defensive end for the Dallas Cowboys, and the next week he's the king of East Swatsi. The story demands it, Mark. Did I dodge that one or what? Don't worry, there's a reason why Prometheus is going to be up there. He's an image stretched out there of a divine figure who is suffering for his love of humankind, if you see what I'm getting at.
Don't worry. I'm not going to do the gesture. but don't worry, because with one of his chained up hands Prometheus is flipping Zeus the bird, as it were. Because Prometheus knows something that Zeus doesn't know. He knows one thing that Zeus doesn't know. He knows he's going to come off that rock sooner or later. As for mankind, Zeus has another punishment for mankind. It is at this point which I take my cup of coffee and my notes and start backing slowly towards the door in order to ensure a quick getaway because, believe it or not, Zeus's revenge on mankind was the creation of women. Well, I'm glad to see that the women in this particular class are laughing. Usually, this would be my time to be running out the door under the barrage of backpacks and lipsticks and key chains and hair bunchies. Do those exist? Shoot me. I'm not an expert on hair.
This is where we're going to pick on our next class, obviously, but what I want to tell you right off the start as you read this stuff is, yes, any civilization in which one could explain the creation of women as a punishment for men is fundamentally misogynistic. That is to say, women-haters. It is very difficult to think of an ancient Greek mom telling her ancient Greek daughter, "Oh yes, then Zeus decided to get even with men and created us women, hehehe." Yeah, I don't think that happened, obviously. But, for better or worse, the ancient Greek culture is not the only culture in which everything bad is based on something that a woman did wrong. I leave you with that tantalizing thought. You've been a good class. We'll see you next time in Classical Mythology, LLT121.
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