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An exploration of Hathor, from a Kemetic and Hellenic perspective |
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Sennefer: Aha! What is this? Do I behold a ghost? Sannion: No, not a ghost, just one who has been journeying far and wide in distant lands, only recently having returned to the civilized world. Sennefer: Well, may the blessed Gods be praised for bringing you safely back my friend, dear brother of my heart. How long it's been since we've had the pleasure of speaking face to face! Sannion: Much, much too long, my cherished friend. Sennefer: And how felicitous that you should arrive on my doorstep on the very day that we are to celebrate the festival of the Mistress of Drunkeness, with casks of beer and wine, lovely dancing girls, and musicians by the score! Sannion: The ways of the Gods are mysterious indeed. Forgive my ignorance, but who is this Mistress of Drunkeness that you feast today? In my home country the vintage is sacred to the God Dionysos, whom we honor with songs and feasting and the phallic procession. Sennefer: From what I know of your God, the two of them are not so different, but here in Egypt the fruit of the vine is sacred to the Goddess whom we call Hethert, or as you would say in the Greek tongue, Hathor. Sannion: Hathor? I think I have heard that name before. Sennefer: That would not surprise me in the least, for she is a very great Goddess indeed, known throughout all of Egypt, and even beyond the borders of the Black Land. She is praised in song by the short, dark men of Punt, famed for its incense, as well as by the blond-haired and blue eyed Libyans. In the Phoenician tongue she is called the Baalat Gebel or "Lady of Byblos", and the nomads of the Sinai hail her as the "Mistress of Turquoise" and the "Great Golden Calf". Her worship is known in every land, and she has uncountable names. Sannion: How did this Goddess become so widely known? Sennefer: Well that, my friend, is a sacred story, and the reason why we celebrate this festival. Sannion: By all means, please tell it! Sennefer: It is said by the Priests that in the earliest times the Gods dwelt amongst us, and that the greatest among Gods and men was Ra, who is the Sun in his glory. Now Ra had ruled the earth for hundreds and hundreds of years, and the Kingly crown weighed heavily upon his head. Where once the King had been fierce as a lion, and all Gods and men trembled before his might, he had grown old and weary, his heart was bitter with sadness, and he spent his days sulking upon the throne. The tribe of men began to murmur amongst themselves, saying, "Why should we do honor to this one? His hair is grey, his bones are weak, his voice falters when he speaks. Once there was reason to fear the King, but now he is old, and probably pisses himself on the throne!" It so happened that Ra heard the tribe of men plotting revolt, and his heart burned with hatred for man, and he swore that he would have vengeance upon them. So Ra called forth his Eye and sent her out to slay the tribe of men in the form of the ferocious lioness Sekhmet. Sekhmet, with fierce claws and fangs that dripped saliva, roamed the earth, stalking her prey. Whenever she found humans, be they men, women, or children, she leapt upon them and tore them to pieces, lapping up their blood with her huge tongue. Their pitiful cries rose up to the ears of Ra, and he was pleased in his heart. But as day turned into night, and night turned into day, and still Sekhmet stalked the earth, ruthlessly murdering all she came upon, the sounds of their lamentations began to trouble Ra in his heart, and he soon repented of his vengeance. For if the whole tribe of men were slain who would bring pleasing offerings to his altar? Ra rose up his voice to call back his Eye, but even the great God could not be heard over the screams of the wretched men she tore to pieces or her own ferocious roars. So Ra sent out his messenger, Djehuti, whom you Greeks call Thoth or Hermes, but even his eloquence and cunning could not reach the maddened and enraged mind of the lioness Goddess. Ra began to worry, lest the whole earth be emptied of people, and he sought the council of his Ennead. The Gods were wise and proposed the following plan: they gathered together as many barrels of beer as they could find, and dyed these with ochre, so that it shone red as the blood that the Goddess so greedily drank. Then they placed these in a spot where the Goddess was sure to find them, and indeed, she came rushing upon them, mistaking them for great quantities of blood. She quaffed all of the beer, and soon became quite drunk, promptly falling into a deep slumber. When she awoke, her wrath had been quieted, and the Goddess had been transformed from the raging Sekhmet into the beautiful and joyous Hethert. Sannion: And that is why she has the name "Mistress of Drunkeness"? Sennefer: Yes, for all strong drink is sacred to her, not just the ochre-dyed beer that was offered to her by the Gods. There is in alcohol something special, which loosens the soul, makes it free and happy. It is this, most especially, which is sacred to the Goddess, for she is also known as the "Mistress of Joy". Sannion: Indeed, as a Priest of Dionysos, I am well acquainted with the wonderful properties of wine. Our poet Homer called the God a "joy to mortals" because of this beneficial gift, and the Dorians say that wine gives the soul wings. And the Roman poet Horace sang of wine, "You move with soft compulsion the mind that is so often dull; you restore hope to hearts distressed, give strength and horns to the poor man. Filled with you he trembles not at the truculence of Kings or the soldiers' weapons." Sennefer: No doubt your poets would have found agreement in the songs of our Harpers, "Revel in pleasure while your life endures, and deck your head with myrrh. Be richly clad in white and perfumed linen; like the Gods anointed be; and never weary grow in eager quest of what your heart desires - do as it prompts you." Sannion: Indeed they would have. Sennefer: Through words such as these you can see that Hethert is the Goddess who presides over the good things in life, and her fondest wish is for us to experience the joy of living. This is why her festivals are joyous occasions, full of drunkeness, merry-making, song and dance. Sannion: There is nothing more sacred than the dance. Sennefer: Absolutely, for to dance is to partake in the holy, to lose yourself in motion, and give form to the numinous powers of creation. Sannion: Wise men have always used the dance to symbolize the movement of the celestial bodies, the stars and sun and moon, the progression of life on earth, as it undergoes its myriad transformations. For instance, you can see this in the growth from newborn infant into child, from child to adult, from adult into old age, and from old age into death. Foolish men think that the dance stops there, but it has truly only just begun, for from death comes life, and from life death in ever-repeating cycles. This alternation or flux is the essence of the great cosmic dance of the Gods, the same cyclic movement or cosmic rhythm which propels the world from highest to lowest. Sennefer: You lay bare the holiest mysteries of the Mother Hethert. Sannion: The mysteries everywhere are the same: men simply approach them in different ways, depending on their culture and their level of understanding. Sennefer: Do you understand, then, how Hethert, the Mother of Life, the Goddess of Joy, is also the Lady of the West, She Who Nourishes Souls from within the Sycamore Tree? Sannion: I believe so, for this seems similar to that which is taught at Eleusis and in the Orphic rites, but please share with me the Egyptian understanding. Sennefer: When a person dies, his soul makes a long and arduous journey through the Underworld, traversing difficult terrain like unto the harsh and desolate wastes that border the Black Land, and he faces many adversaries and trials there, which if his heart is not pure, he will fail to overcome, and failing be consigned either to everlasting darkness or to having his soul consumed by terrible monsters. But if, pure of heart, he persists and overcomes every obstacle, the Goddess awaits him within the Sycamore tree, from which she gives him cool water to drink, a healing balm and succor for the soul. She enfolds him in her arms and in a loving, passionate embrace takes him into her womb, which is the vault of heaven, and there he shall be transformed into one of the imperishable stars that burn in the night-time sky. Sannion: By Zeus, that is exactly what we believe, for as Sophocles says, Dionysos, the Lord of Souls, dances at the head of the chorus of fire-breathing stars. Sennefer: But wait, I am not finished. Do you know what the name Hethert means? Sannion: I confess that I do not. Sennefer: Our Priests interpret it as meaning "the House of Heru", and Heru is that form of the sun which we depict by the symbol of the winged solar disc. So, as you can see, her name, which is actually a title and not a name proper such as you and I possess - for the true name of the Goddess is hidden, mysterious, known to none - is a reference to the part of the sky through which the sun travels during its daily and nightly journey. For each night Hethert takes within herself the aged and decrepit sun, and within her he finds renewal and is made whole and young once more, only to be given birth to by the Goddess in the early hours of the morning. Some believe that the soul is not simply transformed into a star, but becomes united with the sun, and experiences rebirth through the Goddess, taking on a new form and new life here upon the earth. Sannion: As indeed is hinted at by the mystagouges at Eleusis when they harvest the single sheaf of wheat in darkness and silence, it appearing bathed in light as the hierophant holds it aloft and cries, "Brimo has given birth to Brimos!". Sennefer: It would seem that your Greeks have latched onto the same mystery, but Heru is not simply the child of Hethert. At Edfu they celebrate the marriage of these two, saying that Heru, a great and mighty warrior, hawk-headed, golden and pure, comes from the distance to claim her in the form of a darksome cow as his bride. Their marriage is called the Festival of the Joyous Union, and their passionate lovemaking is said to renew the world. This is a profound mystery indeed. Sannion: It most certainly is, for in it one can see how the harmony which maintains creation is produced only through a synthesis of opposites: masculine and feminine, light and dark, the active solar principle and the passive, nourishing element. Without this union, the whole of creation would spin out into a chaotic conflagration. Sennefer: Yes, and on account of that she is hailed as the "Mistress of the Vulva" for she is identical with the earth, which receives all, into which the seed is planted, being the material basis of all life, the essence from which all form is derived. This, also, is why she is represented as having the likeness of a cow, for the cow is a kindly, docile creature, thick, stable, powerful, and most generous, giving of its milk while alive, and its flesh in death, that we might have nourishment and lasting life. Though, like Hethert, the cow can become inisghted to action, swift and destructive, terrible in its might as the ferocious lioness Sekhmet. Sannion: Most assuredly. Though I must confess: my mind is still locked onto that epithet. Surely that is not the only reason that she is known as the Mistress of the Vulva? Sennefer: Haha, my friend, always thinking with that part of your body. Rest assured, it most definitely is not. Sannion: By the Gods, that's good to know! Sennefer: No, no, Hethert is definitely associated with sexuality and raw passion. At her festivals there is always an air of excitement, of enchantment, of fiery passion lurking beneath the surface. Young men look with longing glances at the beautiful girls performing their leaping dances: husbands, who the day before, could scarcely spare their wives a glance, are all over them, taking them in their arms in heated embrace: old women discover their cheeks flushed all of a sudden, and their parts down there smouldering for the touch of a strong, finely muscled workman: mothers paint their eyes, don their best wigs, wear suggestive clothing or none at all, and rush out into the street, crying, "Take me! Take me!" This is the work of the Goddess, who is mistress of desire, that force in the world which brings things together, without which there could be no union. Sannion: From your description of Hethert's effects, it seems that love, everywhere, is viewed as a beautiful and necessary, but potentially dangerous madness. Sennefer: Ever remember, though Hethert is the lovely and light-hearted Goddess of Joy, she can easily transform back into the violent, destructive lioness. Sannion: Ah yes, we Greeks attribute the same duality to Eros, who is the child of the Goddess Aphrodite in some accounts, and is a violent, disruptive, precocious instigator, but in other accounts arose with the first principles, and whose force of attraction brought together Heaven and Earth, thus making the world or cosmos possible, cosmos being our word for order, but also signifying beauty and ornamentation. Sennefer: And our Priests were well aware of that, which is why we depict the Goddess as wearing the menit necklace, a beautiful piece of jewelry which is said to pacify raging emotions by reminding them of the natural order and its striking beauty, and also the sistrum, whose lovely sonorous rhythm brings to mind the slow, gentle lapping of the waves against the shore, those primeval waters, the Nun, from which all life is said to have emerged. Indeed, this is why Hethert is such a great and powerful Goddess, for all life arises from within her, is nourished and given strength by her, and is accepted back into her through death, finding once more the source of life and growth within her dark womb. Sannion: She is indeed a Goddess worthy of praise! Sennefer: And you are truly blessed to have arrived at my house on the day of her festival, as you shall see when you behold the sultry dancers that I employed for the occassion. One of them, Meryt, has such a tight little backside, it'll make you want to scream, you randy old Greek. Sannion: Then what are we waiting for? On to the
feast! |
