There is a certain contingent of people in the Hellenic community that simply misunderstands syncretism, at best, or is attempting to redefine syncretism for their own purposes, at worst (and then, of course, they insist that everybody else is “redefining it for their own purposes”, despite the fact that it’s “everybody else’s” definition that can be backed up by dictionaries and Wikipaedia, and theirs is the definition that cannot). Religious syncretism is defined by Wikipaedia as [link]:
Religious syncretism exhibits blending of two or more religious belief systems into a new system, or the incorporation into a religious tradition of beliefs from unrelated traditions. This can occur for many reasons, and the latter scenario happens quite commonly in areas where multiple religious traditions exist in proximity and function actively in the culture, or when a culture is conquered, and the conquerors bring their religious beliefs with them, but do not succeed in entirely eradicating the old beliefs or, especially, practices.
The Oxford English Dictionary (the standard dictionary of the English language for most of the world) defines syncretism as link]:
• noun the amalgamation of different religions, cultures, or schools of thought.
So, basically, it can be easily concluded that polytheistic syncretism is not merely the adoption of epithets, but the systematic blending of traditions by an individual or a group.
Now, I bring this up because one practise often applied in syncretic traditions, and inevitably brought up in discussions on ancient polytheism and religious syncretism is “Interpretatio graeca“, a Latin term for tendancies among certain Ancient Greek writers (Wikipaedia cites Herodotus as a primary example) to relate foreign Gods to the Theoi of the Hellenic pantheon. The Romans later adopted this practise, along with truly syncretic elements in the adoption of the Greek Apollon, Latinising His name as “Apollo” and adopting as a State Goddess the Hellenic-Phygrian Kybele. But I digress….
Interpretatio graeca/romana is, in and of itself, merely an exercise by some ancients and modern practitioners to relate the Gods of one pantheon to another. Among modern practitioners, the exercise has been adopted by Asatruar and Keltic recons (who each seem to have their own name, depending on whether they’re Gaelig recon, Cymric recon, Gaulish, etc…), even though the only real evidence of this practise that exists among ancient writings exists pretty much among Romans writing of those groups. Interpretatio is, in and of itself, an imperfect means of relating the Theoi of one pantheon to another. Tacitus likens Hercules to Thor, though in modern times, the preference seems to be to compare Thor to Zeus. Other Roman writers compared the Gaelig Lugh to the Roman Mercury, though Moderns prefer to align Him with Apollon. The Gaelig Brighid was comparable to Minerva, in ancient Rome, though modern conventions liken Her to Vesta. The fact remains that Keltic (or Norse) Deity A does share some qualities with Roman/Greek Deity A, but also shares traits with Roman/Greek Deity B. Interpretatio may be a highly flawed means of relating the Theoi to Deities of other pantheons, after all, these Gods are easily determined to be very incongruent in certain ways, but it’s still an interesting exercise, even if one’s practises aren’t syncretic by definition, in studying how certain Theoi can relate to each-other.
polytheists have the hottest Divine...
(“Chosen-One the Young Son” or “Son of Youth” in Irish Gaelig) pantheon. He is a God of Love, Music, and Youthful Beauty, He also has solar associations and is considered the Gaelig counterpart to the Cymric (Welsh) God Mabon ap Modron (“Divine Son of Divine Mother”, in Welsh), a God of Youth and Healing; already, it’s very apparent why He would be of particular interest to me, as one whose primary cultus is paid to Eros and Apollon.
Common descriptions of Óengus state that He is followed by songbirds, who some say total no more than four, and who some say represent kisses; the author of one website I found a few weeks ago (and, of course, my del.icio.us FireFox extension was giving me issues on that day — but the latest FireFox update seems to be wrought with problems, anyway, but I digress) attribute the practise of signing love-letters with “[name] xxxx” to left-over and mostly-forgotten reverence to Óengus, going on to state that four is the perfect number for this, for any less would be platonic or familial, and any more would be wasted or a sign of desperation.
A popular story about Óengus mac ind Og involves His love for the princess Caer Ibormeith: It is said that He had a dream of her and, so wrought with lovesickness, His Divine parents had all the Gods of the land search for this girl in order to bring His spirits back up. When she was found, first the task was in order to make sure that she was the right girl, and Óengus found her pretty much instantly. Then the Gods transformed her and ninety-nine other maids into swans, telling Aengus that if He could find his beloved in her swan form, then their love is one that is truly meant to be. When Óengus found her, He turned Himself into a swan form, and the two flew off, making their own beautiful calls over the other birds left on the ground.
Of Óengus’ adopted children include the hero Díarmait Ua Duibhne, roughly translated to “Díarmait of the Love Spot”, who is said to bear a spot on His forehead that no woman can look upon without falling deeply in love with Him. When he became a beautiful young man, Díarmait was seduced by the maiden Gráinne, who was bethrothed to an aging military leader, Finn. Finn pursued the two, with Gráinne being rescued by Óengus, who had vowed to protect the young lovers, and Díarmait escaped by protecting himself with his weapons given to him by Óengus and other Gods. Eventually, the wear on Díarmait fleeing Finn and protecting himself took its toll and Díarmait was slain by Finn’s wild boars, and though he died, Díarmait’s body was spirited away by Óengus, Who prevented Díarmait’s body from decaying, and Who could occasionally be able to give Díarmait just enough life at a time to speak with Óengus.
Some similarities between Óengus and Eros are apparent — the possible importance of the number four (though the Keltoi had no written language of their own before Christianisation, so I’d need to research this more closely before saying it’s anything more than modern speculation), sacred birds, eternal youth, and a “fated” love story. Other elements to His lore and mythos seem to more closely recall Apollon (solar associations, the gift of spears to Díarmait, the presence of music, also eternal youth), while others (the preservation and short-term periodic revivals of the dead) are at their best, rather difficult to compare to either Apollon or Eros, and indeed are not shared between Óengus and either Theos at all.
But one thing that drawing interpretatio between Eros and other “Love Gods” of other pantheons benefits even one who has little more than academic interest in syncretism is that it brings connections to other Theoi of the Hellenic pantheons to light. Díarmait, for example can be viewed as analogous, in some ways, to Adonis: Their shared mortal births, Divine rearing, perceived irresistability, and death by boar — Díarmait’s ill-fated love was with a young mortal woman, but his death brought from a jealous older competitor can be stretched to be analogous to Ares, in some versions of the Adonis myth; the fact that Díarmait is periodically revived from death is comparable to Adonis’ status as a life-death-rebirth deity in ancient Greece. Adonis is relevant to the Eros/Apollon parallels not merely because of Adonis’ close relations to the Aphrodite cultus in ancient Hellas, but because in some obscurer versions of the Adonis mythos, Adonis is said to “lay as a man with Aphrodite and as a woman with Apollon”, with some implications seeming to be that He spent His third part of the year with Apollon.
Of course, even before I became aware of the obscurer connections of Adonis to Apollon, I had felt especially drawn to the revived reverence of Adonis, simply as an extension of my cult to the Erotes.
Whether or not this means that Eros “is” Óengus or that Díarmait “is” Adonis is, quite frankly, not at all for me to say. It can just as easily be said that Óengus “is” Apollon or “is” a Masculine Interpretation of Aphrodite or Persephone. Regardless of the imperfection of the interpretatio, the Óengus mythos remain dear to me as a tool to learning more about Eros and how he related to the other Theoi. Ill-fated lovers are common in the Apollon mythos (Apollon, though associated with quite strongly Healing, can also bring Pain and Suffering); Adonis was often worshipped alongside Aphrodite, as was Eros — I’m sure that I’d think of more if I wasn’t running a blood-sugar low at the moment.
All very interesting things to mull on in the vast realm of Eros worship.
