Mythemes I

SAVIOR-GODS:

The best place to find mythemes is religion; as the world’s religions are–by their very nature–reflections of universal schema.   Conceptions of the divine are as myriad as people’s imaginations are variegated.  Ultimately, we find the divine in experiences of what Kant dubbed “the sublime”–which exists in everything from a profound appreciation of the natural world to deepest of human connection.

The “catch”, of course, is that we are all inclined to tell ourselves stories about WHAT this divinity might be–rendering what is abstract in concrete terms.  The belief that there is some mechanism by which everyone will get their just deserts (a final “settling of accounts”) is extremely tempting–more due to its formidable allure than to its plausibility.  And we all want to feel like we will be redeemed in the end.

So it’s no big surprise that the savior-god motif was standard in the ancient world.  A deity representing the notion of salvation actually dates back to the Egyptian “Shed” in the era predating Akhenaten. It also crops up in tales of the Greco-Egyptian hybrid, Osiris-Apis (a.k.a. “Serapis”; a hybridization of Osiris and Apis).  Note that Apis was alternately known as [h]Api-Ankh, son of Hathor.  Apis was seen as a worldly intermediary between humans and the godhead–alternately considered Osiris (the god of resurrection) or Atum (the paternal Creator-god).  This syncretism (between Hellenic and Egyptian theology) occurred during the Ptolemaic era…and was honored across the region, from Babylon (Serapis was effectively a re-branding of Enki) to the Serapeum at Alexandria; as well as the one at Memphis.

In Greco-Roman myth, there was Adonis–likely a Hellenic derivative of Osiris.

In the Middle East, Adonis was adapted from the Syriac “Adon”, son of the Semitic goddess, As[h]tart[e]…who was, in turn, an analogue of Attis, son of Cybele.  He was alternately rendered “Adonai”: a moniker that was thereafter used in Biblical Hebrew to–strangely enough–refer to the Abrahamic deity.

Also note that Ovid’s “Metamorphosis” included familiar tropes: Adonis was immaculately conceived and his blood was shed to give new life (that is: eternal rebirth).  There have even been FEMALE savior figures–as with “Tara” in the Newar sect of Vajrayana Buddhism (spec. in Nepal in the 14th century) and the “First Mother” (alt. the “Corn Mother”) of Native American lore, who declares “I am love”…and dies in order to bring rebirth to those who return her love.  (Some of this might sound familiar.)

The savior-god motif has universal appeal; as it proffers an eminently human (read: more relatable) embodiment of divinity.  When a deity is incarnated in human form, it sends a message that the divine powers CARE about mankind.  After all, the gods saw fit to do us the courtesy of coming down to our level.

It should come as no surprise, then, that the idea of a divine incarnation (spec. in the form of a prophet / messenger) is found in cultures around the world.  In the Ifa Faith of the Yoruba people in West Africa, the “Irunmole” (Prime Orisha) known as “Orunmila” is considered the messenger of the godhead, Olodumare.  He is said to have walked on earth as a prophet long, long ago; and is considered the preeminent exemplar of moral behavior.  It is he who carried the divine wisdom (“Ifa”) to Earth and delivered it to mankind.

The history of religion is rife with savior figures–from the “Saoshyant” in Zoroastrianism to the “mahdi” in Islam–who are expected to return again someday to deliver some kind of redemption (and a final reckoning: a kind of settling of accounts).  The Pauline version of Jesus of Nazareth in Nicene Christianity went so far as to EQUATE the savior figure with the godhead, positing the former as an incarnation of the latter.  The impending arrival of this figure coincides with a Day of Judgement, in which the dead will be resurrected and held to account.  In almost all versions, this will usher in some sort of Golden Age.

The messianic leitmotif is especially potent, as it connects the worldly activity of mere humans to the machinations of the divine.  Even the authors of the Koran felt inclined to refer to Jesus of Nazareth as “al-Masih”. {6}

As I discuss in the essay, “Nemesis”, ANTI-Christ figures are not uncommon–as with Hinduism’s nefarious “Hiranya-kashipu” and Islam’s nefarious “Dajjal”.  This antagonist is posited so as to furnish the cosmogony’s captivating narrative with a foil.  John of Patmos conjured ominous images of “the Beast”, personification of the despised Roman imperium.

The “son of god” leitmotif is so commonplace, it is almost pointless to enumerate the countless examples over the course of human history.  The trope dates back to the 3rd millennium B.C., with Asar[u]ludu, son of the Sumerian godhead, En-ki [Lord of Earth].  Asar[u]ludu was described as the “namshub” [one who shines]–and thus was depicted as the god of light (“who illuminates our path”).  In Assyrian theology, this translated to Marduk (alt. “Asarluhi”), son of the godhead, Ea. {11}

In Egypt, Osiris (god of resurrection, who judged the dead in the afterlife) was believed to be son of the Earth-god, Geb.

One of the earliest versions of this widely-adored leitmotif was the Canaanite “Baal”, son of the godhead, “El”.  The Babylonians worshipped “Nabu”, son of the godhead, “Marduk”.  Meanwhile, the Assyrians worshipped him as the son of their own godhead, “Ashur”.  (This, even as Marduk / Ashur was initially worshipped as the son of “Enki”).

The leitmotif was also used amongst Semitic peoples of the Bronze Age, whereby a potentate was deified, and considered the son of the godhead.  For example, the Moabite kings routinely referred to themselves as “son of Chemosh[-yatti]”.

In Greek myth, the hero Heracles was the son of a god.  The Roman adaptation was Hercules.  Here we have a legendary man, likely based on a historical figure (from Argos), who attained cult status long after he lived.  He was said to have performed miracles; and was eventually deified.  He was subsequently invoked during prayer by those petitioning the gods for favor, and those who were longing for deliverance.

Ring any bells?

In ancient Ireland, Cu Chulainn was alternately the son of–and incarnation of–the godhead, Lugh.  In ancient Norse myth, Hermod[r] is son of the godhead, Odin–and considered the messenger of the gods.  (According to Snorri Sturlusson’s Eddas, Odin sired several sons via Freya–namely the demi-gods: Thor, Baldr, Vidarr, and Vali.)

Also noteworthy is another figure of the early 1st century: Apollonius of Tyana.  Before he was born, his mother was visited by an angel…that notified her that her son would be divine.  He grew up to become an itinerant preacher who founded a ministry–performing miracles like casting out demons, healing the sick, and raising the dead.  He accumulated followers who believed that he was the son of god.  He was a monotheist (god as nous) who preached against materialism, and claimed to absolve men of their sins.  He eventually upset the ruling Roman authorities, and was put on trial.  He later ascended to heaven…but eventually returned to notify his followers that he lived on in the heavenly realm; and that all those who partook in the divine could have eternal life.

This should sound oddly familiar.

During Late Antiquity, the indigenous peoples of the Hindu Kush worshipped the godhead, “Imra” and his son: a mythic prophet named “Moni”.

In the Far East, we encounter the Chinese legend of Houyi, descended from heaven to protect mankind (though the story ends badly).  This was the basis for the convention of referring to the ancient Han emperors as “Tian-zi” [“Son of Heaven”].  In Korea, the first human king was Dangun, son of the deified “Ungnyeo”.

As is usually the case, the leitmotif (designated as the rightful king by divine ordinance) was invoked to justify earthly sovereignty.  The Zhou dynasty fashioned themselves as ordained to rule via “Tian-ming” [“decree from Heaven”].  The Japanese employed a variation of this vis a vis the goddess, Amaterasu (as the “Mandate of Heaven”).  The monarchs of the Holy Roman Empire employed the same scheme (“the divine right of kings”, symbolized by the heraldic emblem, the fleur-de-lis).

The locution was also commonly used as an appellation for potentates. Seleucid King Seleucus Nicator fashioned himself as the “son of god”.  Sure enough, for some time, he was said to be the “son of god” in the empire’s folklore.  This made sense, as the trope had a long history.  Note the idiom found in the second Psalm: wherein Babylonian kings were conceived as “begotten” sons of the Abrahamic deity.  The trope soon caught on amongst the Jews of antiquity (esp. pursuant to the Book of Daniel’s use of this idiom).  Here, it is instructive to note the hermeneutic parity of the “son of man” and “son of god” idioms.  (This might be considered a semiotic isomorphism.)  Even Jesus himself declared that those who had Faith would be “sons of the Most High” (as in Luke 6:35).  Meanwhile, Jesus is referred to as “the Son of Man” throughout the New Testament (e.g. Mark 2:10).  In other words, sons of Man and sons of the godhead were both ways of referring to, well, ALL MEN.

Though the exalted figure was usually male, this wasn’t always the case.  In Hindu mythology, Ganga descends from heaven to Earth, and subsequently serves as the vehicle for the redemption of the dead…before ascending back up into heaven.  This involves a spiritual cleansing, which is why the major river in India is named after her, and its flowing waters are considered sacred.

We should bear in mind that in early Abrahamic lore, “Messiah” was a term used for “anointed ruler” (that is: a leader who was designated by the Abrahamic deity, i.e. as a liberator of Beth Israel).  Moreover, “son of god” was an idiomatic expression for FOLLOWER OF god–as we find in Psalm 82:6.  In fact, in the Gospel of John, JoN cites that very Psalm when he explains to the Jews: “Is it not written in your law, ‘I said, you are gods’?  If those to whom the word of god came were called ‘gods’, can you say that the one whom the Father has sanctified and sent into the world is blaspheming because I said, ‘I am god’s son’?” (10:34-36).  It’s meant a rhetorical question; but it is also a very good question.

Throughout the Hebrew Bible, the locution “son[s] of god” [“ben[e] ha elohim” in Classical Hebrew] is used idiomatically–as when angels are referred to as “sons of god” in Job 38:7, even as the “judges” are referred to as “sons of god” in Psalm 82.  By the time JoN would have lived, the idiom was already well-known in the Roman Empire.  Appellations for Roman Emperor, Caesar Augustus included “Son of God” and “Savior”, which were both used on numerous inscriptions.

Considering the New Testament was primarily rendered in Koine Greek (dating from Late Antiquity in Rome), the use of idioms does not necessarily coincide EXACTLY with idioms translated from Classical Hebrew (dating from the Exilic Period in Babylon).  The heuristic adjusts according to cultural milieu.  Nevertheless, it might be noted that in the New Testament, Adam is referred to as the “son of god” [“(h)O (h)Uios Theou” in Koine Greek] in the Gospel of Luke (3:38); and all believers are referred to as “sons of god” in the first letter of John (3:2).  The semiotic valance of such phraseology is not a coincidence.  After all, the neo-Judaic movement that was inaugurated by JoN came out of Judaism ITSELF, replete with its Palestinian vernacular.

The semiotic continuity is attested by the so-called “Jeselsohn Stone” (a.k.a. “Vision of Gabriel”), composed in Classical Hebrew in the late 1st century B.C.  The passage tells of the Messiah ben Joseph of Ephraim, who is–unsurprisingly–referred to as the “son of god”.  This messianic figure is said to have triumphed over evil with his divine righteousness following three days. (!)  The “resurrection on the third day” leitmotif first emerged in Hosea 6:2 (as acknowledged in Luke 24:44). {28}

The locution “son of god” is generally synonymous with “son of man”–rendered “ben adam” in Classical Hebrew (as in Ezekiel 2:1 and Psalm 8:4) and “bar nash[a]” / “bar anosh” in Aramaic / Syriac (as in the Book of Daniel 7:9-14).  This parity is illustrated by the fact that JoN refers to himself as “son of man”–rendered “[h]O [h]Uios tou Anthropou” in Koine Greek–FAR MORE than he uses the locution, “son of god” (as in Luke 11:30).  Such phrasing is in keeping with the aforesaid use of “son of man” in the Book of Daniel.

The theme of the martyred god, whose blood was shed for mankind, dates back to the Sumerian / Akkadian legend of Geshtu-E.  This god’s blood was used to create man from clay.  (Sound familiar?) {7}  In Vedic myth, mankind was created via the sacrifice of the first man, Purusha.

The more narrow theme of vicarious atonement (redemption through the sacrifice of a deified figure) was commonplace in Classical Antiquity–most notably: with Mithra[s].  Indeed, one of the Mithraic hymns begins: “Thou has redeemed us by shedding the eternal blood.”  An exalted figure suffering–and even sacrificing himself–for the good of mankind was known in early Abrahamic lore.  The Judaic version is captured in the famous passage of the Hebrew Bible in Isaiah 53–a passage which likely inspired the Christology that became the hallmark of Pauline Christianity.

The notion of being redeemed via a god is also reflected in an Egyptian poem about Dionysos (c. 400 A.D.)   The poem recounts that “Bacchus, our lord, shed tears so that he might bring an end to the tears of mortals” (ref. the “Dionysiaca” by Nonnos of Panopolis).  This god-as-redeemer motif has universal appeal, especially when it involves some sort of resurrection myth.

Resurrection (martyr-based or not) has always been a common mytheme since time immemorial.  The Christian and Islamic version of a Day of Resurrection was likely an adaptation of Zoroastrian eschatology (an End Times scenario in which all the dead will be resurrected to face judgement).  The son of the godhead who is resurrected: This is a common motif–as with the Norse “Bald[u]r”, son of Odin (the All-Father), who rose from the dead and offered deliverance.  Odin HIMSELF is said to have been resurrected.  (Odin sacrificed himself by being hung from a tree; and is pierced in the side with a sword.)

Here are a dozen more instances of a resurrected deity:

• Inanna / Ishtar (Sumerian)
• Tammuz (Akkadian)
• Marduk (Assyrian)
• Osiris / Horus (Egyptian) {8}
• Melekart, tutelar deity of Tyre (Phoenician)
• Dionysus (Greek) {9}
• Zalmoxis (Thracian)
• Mithra[s] (Roman) {9}
• Attis (Phrygian) {9}
• Syavush (Sogdian)
• Krishna (Hindu) {9}
• Quetzalcoatl (Aztec) 

The resurrection generally involves some sort of subsequent ascent into the heavens.

And even more narrowly still, crucifixion was a common leitmotif.  Indeed, myriad mythic figures were crucified and then resurrected.  Prometheus (Greek) was said to have been strung up in a manner that roughly resembled crucifixion.  The crucified savior was an idea that found purchase in several cultures–including:

• Osiris / Horus in Egypt
• Zoroaster in Persia
• Baal-Zephon in Phoenicia
• Zalmoxis in Thrace
• Amirani in Georgia
• Thor in Germanic / Nordic lands
• Fu-xi / Pao-xi in China
• Sommona-Kodom (a variation on Siddhartha Gautama) in Siam

More broadly, the notion of a deity being sacrificed in order to CREATE goes back to the the Vedic “Purusha” (a cosmic figure whose sacrifice by the gods created all life).  In Norse legend, the sacrificed figure is variously named “Ymir”, “Aurgelmir”, “Brimir”, or “Blainn”.  In Germanic legend, he was named “Tuisto”.

We might note that there were various tales of resurrections in the Roman Empire, some of which spawned cult followings.  Virbius (the Roman version of Hippolytus) was said to have been killed due to his father, Theseus’, curse; but was then risen from the dead, at the behest of the gods.

It is often supposed that humans can secure some sort of “salvation” through the sacrifice of these deified figures: via a one-off atonement, effected VICARIOUSLY.  A state of grace can thus be (vicariously) realized via the resurrection of the divine martyr.  Such grace usually includes the promise of immortality (an eternal after-death “life” in Paradise).  As the above lists show, this thematic thread is woven into the narrative tapestries of many a sacred lore.

In the end, we find that there was almost nothing novel about Christian lore about Jesus of Nazareth…beyond, perhaps, the exhortation to “turn the other cheek”.

But what of Jesus as a SHEPHERD?  As it turns out, the shepherd-cum-king leitmotif goes back to the Sumerian king, Etana–the shepherd who ascended to heaven and consolidated all the foreign countries into a unified kingdom.  Thereafter, the “lugal” [king] was often depicted as a “shepherd”.  Note especially kings of Uruk like Lugal-banda and Dumuzid–each referred to by the epithet: the shepherd.  This idiom was adopted by the Akkadians, who created history’s first empire.  The idiom remained in use throughout the Middle East.  The Kassite royal moniker, “Kurigalzu” intimated “shepherd of the people”.

Per “Krio-phoros”, a hallowed figure that was popular at the time (typically depicted as a ram-bearer, and associated with Hermes).  Other variations of the leitmotif were adopted by cult figures–notably: the Cretan Messiah, Apollonius of Tyana in the late 2nd century A.D.

In Judaic lore, Moses was sometimes referred to as “Ra’ya Mehemana” (shepherd), as he led his flock out of Egypt.  The idiom was nothing new even back then.  The Semitic sun god was “Lugal-banda”, who was known as “the Shepherd” of his people.

In his “Statesman”, Plato referenced ancient Greek theologies in which “god himself was the [Greek forebears’] shepherd”.  We also find the leitmotif in Greek legend of Endymion–the Aeolian hero who founded Elis.  (The Carians claimed that he resided on the mountain of Herakleia, at Latmus.)  It was later used in the legend of Gyges of Lydia.  Even Hesiod was claimed to have been a shepherd on the slopes of Mount Helicon (home of the Muses) before he was inspired by the gods. {20}

It is natural to conceptualize the divine as a shepherd, and mankind as his flock.  We also find the leitmotif in Babylonian lore (with Bel Marduk), Persian lore (with Arda[x]shir), Roman lore (with Faustulus), Romanian lore (with Bucur), and in many other cultures.  The Phrygian shepherd-consort was Attis.

The anointed shepherd is a ubiquitous archetype.  In Persia, the godhead, Ahura Mazda elected the “good shepherd”, Yima “Kshaeta” [later rendered “Jam-shid”] to receive the divine law and bring it to men.  Recall that it was the shepherd, Abel, rather than the farmer, Cain, that the Abrahamic deity favored.

Note that Abraham himself was a shepherd–as were his progeny, Isaac then Jacob. {21}  Later, Amos of Tekoa was said to have been a shepherd.  And, of course, the first great King of Israel, David, is said to have begun his life as a shepherd.  This leitmotif almost certainly informed the Christian portrayal of the Christ as a metaphorical shepherd–as with the Koine Greek rendering “poimen o kalos” [the Good Shepherd] in the Gospel of John (10:2/11-14). {12}

Jesus of Nazareth was a local carpenter in Galilee who, in being anointed King of the Jews, was thought of as the “shepherd” of all mankind–in keeping with the Judaic idiom (wherein the Lord, Yahweh, was famously referred to as “my shepherd” in Psalm 23).  By the 2nd century, “The Shepherd of Hermas” was one of the most prominent pieces of Christological folklore (and was even considered canonical by Irenaeus).  What was THAT based on?  As it turns out, the idiom was even popular in Greek paganism–as with the “moschophoros” [calf-bearer] in the Boeotian cult of “Hermes Kriophoros”.  Even the Roman “Mithra[s]” was sometimes referred to as “The Good Shepherd”.

Further east, the Sikhs came to refer to their godhead as “our shepherd”.

The idiom makes perfect sense, as shepherds are GUARDIANS while supplicants are a kind of flock. {23}  After all, what good is a deity is he does not WATCH OVER us?

Even the demonic counterparts of the “huriyya”, “djinn”, are adaptations of the Persian “div” / “daeva”.  (In 27:39, King Solomon has a dialogue with an evil genie.)  Etymologically, the Arabic term is based on the Aramaic “jinnaye”, used in pre-Islamic Palmyra…which was, in turn, based on the Semitic root, “J-N-N” (meaning “hidden”).  The mytheme in which evil is associated with darkness is discussed in my essay: “Nemesis”.  The many versions of heaven and hell are discussed in my essay: “A Brief History Of Heaven And Hell”.