Monthly Archives: September 2015

Fate, Free Will, and the Gods

In a conversation with Thenea about the Gods, free will, and consent, she suggested I (possibly, challenged me to) write a post about free will in ancient Greek thought. She may have a somewhat inflated idea of my scholarship, but I’m willing to give it a try. As you read, keep in mind that this isn’t a polished article by a classics scholar, so much as a gathering of a simple polytheist’s recollections and speculations in an attempt to arrive at a thesis. So, having made my excuses, on to the topic.

My general impression is that the attitude towards freedom, fate, and the gods expressed in the myths and folklore is one of a people beset by forces beyond their control. The world is one in which, for no apparent reason, one may fail despite one’s best efforts, or even be assailed by implacable foes for crimes committed by others generations before ones own birth. The most diligent farmer’s crops may fail because of unexpected drought, the greatest warrior may lose his final battle because of a broken sandal-strap.

In this world, the gods are described as capricious beings of fantastic power, their relationships with mortals turning on whims and passions that are seemingly beyond their control. They are sometimes even powerless to save their favorites, even trapped into the position of killing their beloved mortals despite their love for them. As when Semele, mortal mother of Dionysos, convinced Zeus to grant her a request. He agreed, and then she told him what she wanted. Bound by his word, Zeus revealed himself to her in all his divine power, and the sight burned her to a crisp. Zeus did not want her to die; if he could have spared her, he would have, but he was not able to go back on his word.

I seem to recall reading somewhere–I wish I’d written it down, rather than trusting myself to remember–that the Greeks spoke of passions not as something that originated within a person, but as outside forces acting on a person. When one falls suddenly, rapturously in love/lust (for example), that’s not something within, that’s Eros striking you with his arrow. Herakles murdered his family in a rage, but that rage came from Hera, not his own inner frustrations and fears.

Oedipus did not know he was killing his father and marrying his mother, but his ignorance did not prevent his doom. Odysseus did not plan to spend years stranded on various islands, all he could do was make the best of the situation.

And, of course, the Fates decide the time of one’s birth, the length of one’s life, and the moment of one’s death, and not even the Olympian Gods can change this decree. If one is going to die, one dies. While one can attain apotheosis, or be granted a happy afterlife by divine favor, death itself is unavoidable.

In short, a human in the world is at the mercy of forces beyond their control, sometimes even beyond their knowledge. These forces are also constrained by other forces, and by the necessities of their own function. Frequently, there’s nothing one can do about it. And no one here gets out alive.

One result of this is a heroic ideal of facing death bravely, and going out fighting. If one can’t avoid dying, then one should leave behind a life to be sung of. I can get behind this one; my greatest fear about death is not that I might die horribly, but that I might die and be forgotten.

Another result, one I am less supportive of, is the thought that this rule of greater forces do what they will and mortals do what they can is applied to human behavior. To quote Thucydides, “the strong do what they can and the weak suffer what they must.” While Thucydides lived long after the initial tellings of the myths, and was not always regarded as a good moral example, those words do seem to sum up a good deal of the behavior we see in the stories.

Personally, I feel that while this may be true in the absolute sense, the world is better when the strong act justly and fairly, with mercy and an eye toward the common good. I also understand that one strong person cannot long stand against a many weaker people incensed by what an asshole the strong person has been. And, of course, strength comes in many forms beyond that of brute force and base cunning. Satire comes to mind, as does organized labor. But I digress…

The basic understandings I take from all this into my own practice–aside from that I need to spend more time reading and taking better notes–are:

First, though very powerful, the Gods are not all powerful. They may love us, but they can’t always help us. Sometimes, they can’t help but harm us. Which leads to…

Second, the Gods are constrained to do what they must do in order to fulfill their own functions. The God in charge of your local weather may not want to get you wet, but they can’t make a hole in the rain just for you. This also means that courting a God of madness and drunken ecstasy is probably not good for your sanity and sobriety, even if it is a net gain for your life as a whole.

Third, both of these things are just as true for mortals as they are for Gods. I suspect, but don’t have a strong argument to support, that what we lack in phenomenal cosmic power, we make up for in greater (but not absolute) freedom of thought and action.

Fourth, in addition to limited power and freedom, we also get death! While we may choose to live as if it weren’t so, our lives are limited by the fact that they will end some day–barring the Singularity making us all immortal machine intelligences, of course. Whatever it is one decides one wants to do in life, one only has so much time in which to do it, so try not to waste time Hamleting on about it.

Finally, if we want to live in a good world, and not a vast wasteland of worldsuck, we all–mortals and Gods alike–have to work together to make it good, and to keep it that way. The Gods can’t make the world good without us, or at least, they can’t do it if we’re so wrapped up in shortsightedness and fear that we fight their efforts. And we can’t do it without them, however we understand them.

For Those We Have Lost

Today is the 14th anniversary of the terrorist attacks on American soil on September 11, 2001. Many places on the internet, at least where Americans post, will be filled with American flags and praise of the United States. Some places will be filled with jingoistic hate. If we’re lucky, some will also be filled with thoughtful history.

None of that is what I want to say today. Here’s what I want to say:

Remember those who left the sunlit lands.

Remember the thousands who died in the attacks: the passengers of the planes, the workers in the towers and at the Pentagon, the police and firefighter and medics. Raise a glass to the fallen.

Remember those who left the sunlit lands.

Remember the thousands and thousands who have died in the wars that followed. Remember those who have died in reprisal after reprisal; an eye for an eye and the world goes blind. Raise a glass to the fallen.

Remember those who have left the sunlit lands.

May they find the peace they were denied in life.
May we find a way to make justice out of the mess that killed them.
May the gods guide us and forgive us.

A Love of Spirit

What have you inherited from your ancestors?

What haven’t I inherited from my ancestors? Genetically, socially, materially… I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t had the ancestors I did. Not just in the simple sense of not having been born without my parents; I would not be the person I am without the advantages and challenges they’ve left me.

But that’s all fairly generic, isn’t it?

My father was an easy man to love, but not an easy man to live with. Growing up, I’d thought he was always disappointed in me, as if I’d failed some test I didn’t know I was taking. In reality, he was dealing with serious depression. Late in his life, he would often talk about feeling he’d failed me as a parent.

I get depression–I got it from him. I know what he went through, and with my own son, I can imagine how hard he tried to keep his depression from affecting me too badly.

Another thing I got from him was a thirst for spirit.

My father, perhaps because of his depression, was a very religious man. For years, I’d thought that our family had always been very involved in the Southern Baptist Church, but talking with family after my father’s funeral, I learned that he was the one who got them involved.

He was passionate about his Christianity, but he was never overbearing about it. I remember a period of my early teens where many of the things I wanted came with something religious attached. The example I remember the best was a DC Comics trivia book I wanted. I showed it to him, and he came back with a Bible study workbook, telling me I could have the one if I also took the other.

I don’t think I looked at the Bible workbook more than twice, actually.

Another thing I remember was the year we lived in Missouri. At the time I had no idea, but having to move away from his church must have been as hard on him as moving away from his family. We must have tried half a dozen churches that year. They were all Protestant evangelical denominations, but I think I owe much of my interest in the diversity of religious expression to that year.

I particularly remember the small church, run out of the living room of a farmhouse. It was folk guitar and barbecue and praying in tongues. Now that I think on it, this probably predisposed me to the culture of modern Paganism.

My father never really came to terms with where I took it, but I will always thank him for giving me a love of spirit.

My lover Ember and I have decided to go through Galina Krasskova’s Devotional Polytheist Meme questions together, over the next several months. We encourage our friends to follow along, and welcome links to other people’s answers in our comments, as well as your thoughts on our answers. Ember’s answer can be found at her blog, Embervoices.

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