Ovid’s Metamorphoses and the Gospel According to Hermes

A few months ago, I wrote about some interesting allusions to the priest-poet Epimenides in the New Testament. I’d like to continue exploring non-scriptural literary influences and connections in the Bible with a look at a story from Ovid’s Metamorphoses. 
Publius Ovidius Naso was a Roman poet who lived from 43 BCE to about 17 of the Christian era. He wrote epic poetry in Latin, and his works have become a major source of information on Greco-Roman mythology. His magnum opus was Metamorphoses, a work spanning 15 books and containing some 250 mythic stories that encompass all of history, from creation to the death of Julius Caesar, within a frame narrative.

Hither Came Jupiter in the Guise of a Mortal…

What I am interested here is the story of Philemon and Baucis in Book VIII. A brief summary is as follows:
The gods Jupiter and Mercury visit Phrygia disguised as human travellers. They go from house to house in search of food and lodging, but are refused a thousand times. At last they come to the cottage of old Baucis and Philemon, who show the two visitors their finest hospitality despite their poverty. They prepare the finest meal they can muster, and are astonished at one point to see the wine replenishing itself. Realizing that their guests are divine, they attempt to offer their only goose as a sacrifice, but Jupiter and Mercury stop them. The two gods then pronounce judgment on the region for its wickedness, but make an exception for Baucis and Philemon. They lead the couple over to a nearby mountain and then watch while the entire countryside is flooded and their own house is transformed into a magnificent temple. The two gods then offer to grant Philemon and Baucis whatever they want, and the couple asks to serve as priests of the temple and to have their lives end at the same time. Years later, when the two die, they are immediately transformed into two sacred trees: an oak and a linden tree.
This tale, well-known in the ancient world, forms the basis for an episode in Acts. In chapter 14, Paul and Barnabas visit Lystra, a Roman colony not far from Phrygia. Paul heals a cripple, and when the crowds see it, they cry out that the gods have visited them, calling Barnabas Zeus and Paul Hermes. They attempt to offer sacrifices in honour of the visitors, but Barnabas and Paul angrily put a stop to it, insisting that they are mortals.
Zeus, of course, is the Greek name for Jupiter, and Hermes for Mercury. The basic idea, then, seems to be that the townsfolk of Lystra know the famous story about Jupiter and Mercury (Zeus and Hermes) travelling in the guise of mortals, and they jump to conclusions when they see Paul’s miracle. After all, they certainly don’t want to meet with the fate that the inhospitable villagers did in the story of Philemon and Baucis! But while Ovid’s visitors reveal their divine nature and accept hospitality, our two apostles reveal their mortal nature and refuse hospitality.
All commentaries agree on that much, more or less. There’s a bit more to it, however. Luther H. Martin in a paper published in New Testament Studies (see bibliography below) makes some important observations that most people miss. He notes that many commentators, “focusing on facticity rather than narrativicity,” fret over the difficulties of verse 11, which explicitly has the crowds speaking in Lycaonian. How did uneducated Lycaonian-speaking peasants communicate with the foreign apostles, and how likely is it they would have used the names Zeus or Hermes if they weren’t speaking Greek? (p. 153 n. 8)
Wrangling over such difficulties misses the point, however. Martin sees the author of Acts as a sophisticated writer with a “classical” perspective — and we have already seen his adroit use of the Epimenides legend. Acts was written to address a Greek audience, and their familiarity with traditions about Zeus and Hermes is all that really matters here. The parallels between Acts 14 and Philemon and Baucis go beyond a simple case of mistaken identity by the superstitious locals.
For starters, it is important to understand that Zeus and Hermes were “guarantors of emissaries and missions” in Greek tradition. (Cf. Plato, Leg. 941A.) It was considered a sin against Hermes and Zeus to deliver a false message. As Martin puts it, “Hermes guarantees that what is to be spoken is not ‘false messages’ but ‘good news’.” One of Zeus’s epitaphs was “giver of glad tidings”, while that of Hermes his messenger was “bringer of glad tidings”. (p. 155) It is no surprise then, that it is Paul who is made out to be Hermes because he is the main speaker and message bearer, delivering the Good News.
(Side note: There is also a problem if we ascribe the identification of Paul with Hermes to the Lystrans rather than to the author of Acts. Though inscriptions attest to the veneration of Zeus and Hermes in that area, these were apparently secondary names applied to a pair of local Luwian deities — Tarhunt, a weather god, and Runt, protector of wild animals — who did not possess the functions of king and messenger that are relevant to the author’s point. The actual residents of Lystra are unlikely to have made such a connection. See Versnel p. 42 for more on the subject.)
Another important parallel is the theme of hospitality. Just as Jupiter and Mercury visit a thousand homes before they find one that welcomes them, the hospitality offered by the Lystrans comes after Barnabas and Paul have been rejected at Antioch and Iconium. Zeus and Hermes are particularly relevant, as they were seen as patrons and protectors of travellers in foreign lands. (See Martin, p. 155 for numerous classical references.)
Thus, although the passage is ostensibly an entertaining account of mistaken identity, the author of Acts is actually placing his story “in the context of classical Greek tradition”, reinforcing the legitimacy and truth of the Christian mission to the Gentiles and reminding readers of their obligations regarding hospitality when receiving Christian missionaries. At the same time, the story reinforces a sharp contrast between the pagan and Christian views of deities. (p. 156)




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Taken from: https://isthatinthebible.wordpress.com/2015/02/14/ovids-metamorphoses-and-the-gospel-according-to-hermes/

Why do Most Cultures Have Flood Myths and Stories?

Why do Most Cultures Have Flood Myhs and Stories?

Flood Myths go Global

Flood myths have been around probably since man first started oral traditions. The most well known in Western culture is the story of Noah's flood from the Bible but there are many other stories. The Sumerians ... [wrote] down their flood myths with the story of Gilgamesh ....

 

In Europe Plato wrote of the city of Atlantis that swallowed up by the sea. It is said he got his story from the ancient Egyptians. This isn't to say that Europe did not have any original flood myths, as they did. The Arcadians, Samothrace, ancient Germans, Scandinavians, Celtic, Welsh, Lithuanian, Transylvanian, and Turkish peoples all had various forms of flood myths popping up in their culture.

Updated on January 25, 2013

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Behind the Great Wave at Kanagawa

In Asia the Vogul, Samoyeds, Yenisey-Ostyak, Kamchadale, Ataic, Tuvinian, Mongolian, Sagaiye, Buryat, Bhil, Kamar, Assam, Tamil, Lepcha, Tibetian, Singpho, Lushai, Lisu. Lolo, Jino, Karen, Chingpa, Chinese, Korean, Munda, Santal, Ho, Banar, Kammu, Zhuang, Sui, Shan, Tsuwo, Bunun, Ami, Benua-Jakun, Kelantan, Ifugao, Atá, Mandaya, Tinguian, Batak, Nias, Engano, Dusun, Dyak, Ot-Danom, Toradja, Alfoor, Rotti, and Nage all had thier different versions of flood myths.

 

In Africa flood myths can be seen in the cultures of the Cameroon, Masai, Komililo Nandi, Kwaya, Pygmy, Ababua, Kikuyu, Bakongo, Basonge, Bena-Lulua, Yoruba, Ekoi, Efik-Ibibio, and Mandingo.

 

 

In Australia the Aboriginals of each region seemed to have a different flood myth and hundreds of tribes in the Americas each had their own wild stories of flooding as well. These stories often involved animals, sometimes rescuing people, sometimes riding the storm out with boats. In our current modern day world most of the major religions still have at least one flood myth among their texts.

The Common Threads

Although all the flood myths vary, sometimes to large degrees, many of them have some thread of commonality. Often these stories are told about one human character or one human family. Animals are involved in many of these stories and there is almost always a moral, with the flood coming only after the human race has committed some wrong doing.

Theories about their Origin

It's long been noted that flood myths are one of a handful of stories that seem to be common in almost every culture.

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One of the most interesting theories is that all these stories could have started out as one story that really happened sometime during the end of the last ice age when glaciers would have been melting rapidly making ocean waters rise and swallowing whole civilizations near the coasts.

.... It is an intriguing idea.

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Taken from: http://theophanes.hubpages.com/hub/Some-Speculations-on-the-Commonality-of-Flood-Myths

The God in the Cave



G. K. Chesterton

"The place that the shepherds found was not an academy or an abstract republic; it was not a place of myths... explained or explained away. It was a place of dreams come true." Chesterton dwells upon the theme of Bethlehem in this excerpt from the book which many consider to be his masterpiece.

 

Traditions in art and literature and popular fable have quite sufficiently attested, as has been said, this particular paradox of the divine being in the cradle. Perhaps they have not so clearly emphasised the significance of the divine being in the cave. Curiously enough, indeed, tradition has not very clearly emphasised the cave. It is a familiar fact that the Bethlehem scene has been represented in every possible setting of time and country of landscape and architecture; and it is a wholly happy and admirable fact that men have conceived it as quite different according to their different individual traditions and tastes. But while all have realised that it was a stable, not so many have realised that it was a cave. Some critics have even been so silly as to suppose that there was some contradiction between the stable and the cave; in which case they cannot know much about caves or stables in Palestine. As they see differences that are not there it is needless to add that they do not see differences that are there. When a well-known critic says, for instance, that Christ being born in a rocky cavern is like Mithras having sprung alive out of a rock, it sounds like a parody upon comparative religion. There is such a thing as the point of a story, even if it is a story in the sense of a lie. And the notion of a hero appearing, like Pallas from the brain of Zeus, mature and without a mother, is obviously the very opposite of the idea of a god being born like an ordinary baby and entirely dependent on a mother. Whichever ideal we might prefer, we should surely see that they are contrary ideals. It is as stupid to connect them because they both contain a substance called stone as to identify the punishment of the Deluge with the baptism in the Jordan because they both contain a substance called water. Whether as a myth or a mystery, Christ was obviously conceived as born in a hole in the rocks primarily because it marked the position of one outcast and homeless....

It would be vain to attempt to say anything adequate, or anything new, about the change which this conception of a deity born like an outcast or even an outlaw had upon the whole conception of law and its duties to the poor and outcast. It is profoundly true to say that after that moment there could be no slaves. There could be and were people bearing that legal title, until the Church was strong enough to weed them out, but there could be no more of the pagan repose in the mere advantage to the state of keeping it a servile state. Individuals became important, in a sense in which no instruments can be important. A man could not be a means to an end, at any rate to any other man's end. All this popular and fraternal element in the story has been rightly attached by tradition to the episode of the Shepherds; the hinds who found themselves talking face to face with the princes of heaven. But there is another aspect of the popular element as represented by the shepherds which has not perhaps been so fully developed; and which is more directly relevant here.

Men of the people, like the shepherds, men of the popular tradition, had everywhere been the makers of the mythologies. It was they who had felt most directly, with least check or chill from philosophy or the corrupt cults of civilisation, the need we have already considered; the images that were adventures of the imagination; the mythology that was a sort of search; the tempting and tantalising hints of something half-human in nature; the dumb significance of seasons and special places. They had best understood that the soul of a landscape is a story, and the soul of a story is a personality. But rationalism had already begun to rot away these really irrational though imaginative treasures of the peasant; even as a systematic slavery had eaten the peasant out of house and home. Upon all such peasantries everywhere there was descending a dusk and twilight of disappointment, in the hour when these few men discovered what they sought. Everywhere else Arcadia was fading from the forest. Pan was dead and the shepherds were scattered like sheep. And though no man knew it, the hour was near which was to end and to fulfil all things; and, though no man heard it, there was one far-off cry in an unknown tongue upon the heaving wilderness of the mountains. The shepherds had found their Shepherd.

And the thing they found was of a kind with the things they sought. The populace had been wrong in many things; but they had not been wrong in believing that holy things could have a habitation and that divinity need not disdain the limits of time and space. And the barbarian who conceived the crudest fancy about the sun being stolen and hidden in a box, or the wildest myth about the god being rescued and his enemy deceived with a stone, was nearer to the secret of the cave and knew more about the crisis of the world, than all those in the circle of cities round the Mediterranean who had become content with cold abstractions or cosmopolitan generalisations; than all those who were spinning thinner and thinner threads of thought out of the transcendentalism of Plato or the orientalism of Pythagoras. The place that the shepherds found was not an academy or an abstract republic; it was not a place of myths allegorised or dissected or explained or explained away. It was a place of dreams come true. Since that hour no mythologies have been made in the world. Mythology is a search....

The philosophers had also heard. It is still a strange story, though an old one, how they came out of orient lands, crowned with the majesty of kings and clothed with something of the mystery of magicians. That truth that is tradition has wisely remembered them almost as unknown quantities, as mysterious as their mysterious and melodious names; Melchior, Caspar, Balthazar. But there came with them all that world of wisdom that had watched the stars in Chaldea and the sun in Persia; and we shall not be wrong if we see in them the same curiosity that moves all the sages. They would stand for the same human ideal if their names had really been Confucius or Pythagoras or Plato. They were those who sought not tales but the truth of things; and since their thirst for truth was itself a thirst for God, they also have had their reward. But even in order to understand that reward, we must understand that for philosophy as much as mythology, that reward was the completion of the incomplete....

The Magi, who stand for mysticism and philosophy, are truly conceived as seeking something new and even as finding something unexpected. That sense of crisis which still tingles in the Christmas story and even in every Christmas celebration, accentuates the idea of a search and a discovery. For the other mystical figures in the miracle play, for the angel and the mother, the shepherds and the soldiers of Herod, there may be aspects both simpler and more supernatural, more elemental or more emotional. But the Wise Men must be seeking wisdom; and for them there must be a light also in the intellect. And this is the light; that the Catholic creed is catholic and that nothing else is catholic. The philosophy of the Church is universal. The philosophy of the philosophers was not universal. Had Plato and Pythagoras and Aristotle stood for an instant in the light that came out of that little cave, they would have known that their own light was not universal. It is far from certain, indeed, that they did not know it already. Philosophy also, like mythology, had very much the air of a search. It is the realisation of this truth that gives its traditional majesty and mystery to the figures of the Three Kings; the discovery that religion is broader than philosophy and that this is the broadest of religions, contained within this narrow space....

We might well be content to say that mythology had come with the shepherds and philosophy with the philosophers; and that it only remained for them to combine in the recognisation of religion. But there was a third element that must not be ignored and one which that religion for ever refuses to ignore, in any revel or reconciliation. There was present in the primary scenes of the drama that Enemy that had rotted the legends with lust and frozen the theories into atheism, but which answered the direct challenge with something of that more direct method which we have seen in the conscious cult of the demons. In the description of that demon-worship, of the devouring detestation of innocence shown in the works of its witchcraft and the most inhuman of its human sacrifice, I have said less of its indirect and secret penetration of the saner paganism; the soaking of mythological imagination with sex; the rise of imperial pride into insanity. But both the indirect and the direct influence make themselves felt in the drama of Bethlehem. A ruler under the Roman suzerainty, probably equipped and surrounded with the Roman ornament and order though himself of eastern blood, seems in that hour to have felt stirring within him the spirit of strange things. We all know the story of how Herod, alarmed at some rumour of a mysterious rival, remembered the wild gesture of the capricious despots of Asia and ordered a massacre of suspects of the new generation of the populace. Everyone knows the story; but not everyone has perhaps noted its place in the story of the strange religions of men. Not everybody has seen the significance even of its very contrast with the Corinthian columns and Roman pavement of that conquered and superficially civilised world. Only, as the purpose in this dark spirit began to show and shine in the eyes of the Idumean, a seer might perhaps have seen something like a great grey ghost that looked over his shoulder; have seen behind him filling the dome of night and hovering for the last time over history, that vast and fearful fact that was Moloch of the Carthaginians; awaiting his last tribute from a ruler of the races of Shem. The demons in that first festival of Christmas, feasted also in their own fashion.

 

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Taken from: http://www.cse.dmu.ac.uk/~mward/gkc/books/God_in_the_Cave.html