The Goddess and the Grail14th Nov 2005 There are many schools of thought that boldly suggest that the existence of intelligent, alien life is a reality. However, closer scrutiny of many of these theories reveals to us that most amount to little more than crank speculations from individuals with delusions of reality. One popular notion of those who subscribe to this conjecture suggests that our attentions should be diverted away from the skies and back on to terra firma, for the extra-terrestrials that we seek are already here and living amongst us. To the scientific mind, the notion that an undetected, alien species could coexist amongst us is truly preposterous. We should of course take this premise with a pinch of salt, but it is worth considering; that the perception of our world is contrived for our daily subsistence and therefore the existence of any counter-cultures may initially appear ‘invisible’ to the untrained eye. We share our environments with many ‘alien’ cultures, concurrent existences that remain, to the majority of us, indiscernible. A rare species of flower grows in a blocked gutter, an unusual butterfly goes about its business in a city-centre park and as night falls, the urban fox makes the previously busy streets and thoroughfares of suburbia its hunting ground. It is only when our awareness is heightened and we are confronted with evidence of these activities do we begin to see beyond the tunnel vision of our daily lives. In ‘The White Goddess’ the poet Robert Graves reveals to us the prevalance of another ‘alien’ presence - a universal goddess. Her once powerful reign has suffered during the rise of monotheism and consequently, her power had been diminished and her influence relegated to the pages of history. In our modern world, the goddess appears no more than a relic of our past, for her sway has little bearing on a culture that has become separated from her principles and ideals. To many, talk of her is little more than prosaic mumbo-jumbo, her role like that of the poet who continues to preserves her memory, is considered superfluous, foppish even, in today’s macho, go-getting society. The cynics who choose to dismiss our heroine do so at their peril, for the goddess is not deceased, but only sleeping and awaits the ‘kiss’ that will awaken her from her slumber. Just like our rare species of wild flower, butterfly or urban fox, she remains amongst us, clandestine and estranged as we proceed with our day-to-day existence. All this talk of a goddess may appear confusing to those unfamiliar with myth and legend, subjects that form the nucleus of Graves’ masterwork. We might ask ourselves, “What relevance has she to our lives today?” For many, she simply exists as a fairy godmother figure, a Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty or other ethereal characters associated with childhood. But this presence alone is the tip of a very large iceberg and should prompt to us to investigate further to see what lies beneath. Those who once contrived these childhood tales knew only too well the power of the metaphor, for it provides us with a trapdoor into a parallel world. It is understandable why academics remain sceptical of those that utilise poetic licence in their researches. Graves however, ascertains that the very fabric upon that which our prehistoric culture was built has its roots in mythology. The tales transcribed by the ancient poets attempted to put multi-dimensional philosophies into a two-dimensional format, encapsulating the words of generations of storytellers. Throughout history, the use of the metaphor has often proven to be a stumbling block for those classical scholars who choose to see beyond the literal. Surely a time has now come to re-evaluate these encrypted works and utilise them as a tool for un-raveling ancient conundrums. William Shakespeare once likened the past to an alien country, but is this really the case? Surely our heritage would be best described as an old friend to whom we have become estranged. The memories and associations are still retained, but await the opportunity of re-acquaintance. At the centre of all mythology exists the Great Goddess and this is only to be expected from civilisations that once relied upon the power of nature for their subsistence. It is therefore appropriate that this omni-present force should be perceived as feminine, for Mother Nature is, after all, the great provider. However, her technique of reminding us of her awesome power is not subtle and recent, global catastrophes in the form of floods, earthquakes and volcanic eruptions have reacquainted us with her more malevolent aspect of her persona. In ancient times, this duality would have central to a universal belief that aligned nature’s chaotic element with discontent. Therefore the appeasement of the goddess would have been considered crucial to subsistence. But in a world detached from our past, how can we close the chasm that has developed between this universal custodian and ourselves? Graves recognised the study of mythology as a good starting point, for even the simple fairy tale evoked the goddess in her many guises. Often she is portrayed as pure and virginal in others she is a beautiful woman or a wise, or elderly guardian. But what do these aspects represent and where did they first originate? In ancient Greece, it is understood that the veneration of Cardea, a Latin goddess was based upon the three phases of the moon. The waxing moon symbolised her as the white goddess, here she was virginal and pure representative of birth and growth. The full moon depicted her at her most fruitful and beguiling and she was consequently perceived as the red goddess of love. The waning moon embodied her as an elder or hag - a black goddess who presided over death and divination. The influence of the moon over the earth and its inhabitants would not have gone unrecognised by the ancients and therefore this unanimous force would have been perceived as a universal controller. This devotion demonstrates that the ancients understood the correlation between the phases of the moon and that of the female menstrual cycle and it was therefore legitimate to perceive the female as an affiliation of the Moon Woman or White Goddess. The goddess cults of the Stone Age appear to have been widespread, however it is not clear whether this adoration was born out of isolation or association. Throughout the world, thousands of items associated with goddess worship have been discovered, many of which date back hundreds of thousands of years. Referred to as ‘goddess figurines’, they depict the goddess in her most basic form, often with a huge belly and pendulous breasts and appear to crudely portray only the crucial aspects of the generative prowess of the female. It is unlikely that Stone Age tribes across Europe and Asia worshipped a single universal goddess. It is more likely that localised goddesses were adored and as the population began to expand and similarities between coexisting deities were acknowledged and eventually merged. We don’t know the designations of the early goddesses, but we do know that in later cultures wherever the White Goddess was adored she took on a diversity of mantles. In Egypt she was Isis, in Greece she was Selene and in Rome she was Minerva. It is clear that the triple aspect of a single divinity was universally acknowledged by many diverse cultures and represented to them the death and resurrection cycle that was central to their lives. The Holy Trinity venerated by the Roman Catholic Church is also likely to be an evolution of this patronage. Robert Graves bravely suggests that that Anglican triumvirate of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost also has roots that are attributable to the early triple goddess cults. If, during the Stone Age, the principle of the goddess was without rival, why has her presence been relegated to that of an almost ‘invisible’ figure in today’s society? It is apparent that at some epoch in time, an occurrence in the development of humankind resulted in her fall from grace. Falling from Grace During excavations at the palace of Knossos on the island of Crete, the archaeologist Sir Arthur Evans came across unusual frescoes that depicted a crucial occurrence in the story of the Great Goddess. Pictured alongside her was a young, male consort who appeared to be acting out a death and resurrection ritual. The small heroic figure is known as ‘the divine child’ and he is a to be perceived as a prototype of Dionysus and the sky god Zeus. Evans’ discoveries appeared to be depicting a change in the adoration and perception of the goddess. The archaeologist E.O. James suggested that as a result of the move away from hunter-gatherer lifestyles towards more settled communities, the male’s awareness of the fertility cycle became heightened. It is therefore possible that in ancient cultures, the ‘ignorant’ male may not have initially made the link between copulation and pregnancy. If this was the case, it is clear that the female, intrinsically linked to natural cycles, was instinctively informed and possibly even ‘kept mum’ about the best-kept secret in pre-history! It appears that this eventual transference of carnal knowledge from the female to the male resulted in a fundamental shift in power. It is a conveyance that is cited in a multitude of ancient writings. The presence of the divine child at Knossos is a consequence of this realisation. By giving Adam the apple, Eve provided him not only with the fruit of all knowledge, but the will to power. The introduction of metal into prehistoric cultures was also the beginning of the end for the Stone Age goddess cults. The use of metal weapons in warfare gave rise to the hero and heroic worship and the goddess’ superiority was consigned to a more self-effacing role. In an age of hero worship, the poet Homer understood only too well the power of the Great Goddess. He covertly demonstrated her new role within his epic ‘The Iliad’, a work that would eventually become the cornerstone of a whole genre of writing that paid homage the Great Goddess. To the uninitiated, Homer’s heroine Helen appears to be the archetypal maiden in distress, detained in an ivory tower awaiting rescue by her saviour. But this is clearly not the case. It is an age-old story that is familiar to us from our childhoods. Our vision however, is misguided, for the confines of the Goddess are purely ethereal. We know from our own brushes with nature’s vitriol, that the goddess cannot easily be restrained. It is clear that Homer’s portrayal of the goddess, as a fickle, hapless female is a guise to lull us all into a false sense of security. Man’s ego is temporarily fuelled, but smashed to smithereens when we realises that the goddess is not a prisoner after all. The mortals who fight for the hand of the goddess will always be doomed, for even in victory, the male’s role in the fertility cycle is purely transitory. He is merely the catalyst – the spark at the awakening. When the walls of Troy (Tri?) are eventually breeched, it becomes apparent that Helen has been covertly influencing proceedings from afar. The portrayal of a human representative as a death and resurrection goddess is not exclusive to The Iliad. Throughout history many cultures have chosen this metaphor as a basis for their own beliefs and agendas. In the Ramayana, we can assimilate Sita with Helen and at the fall of Jericho we can identify the clandestine figure of Rehab as being central to the proceedings as the walls come tumbling down. It is clear that that with the demise of the goddess’ power, the role of the poet was also compromised. The use of nous and cunning, both attributes of the Great Goddess would be required if her legacy was to be preserved for time immemorial. Homer’s portrayal of events at Troy was designed to satisfy the desires of the masses that thrived on heroic tales of blood and thunder. However, his canny depiction of the goddess as a ‘victim’ preserved her legacy for eternity. The intuitive aspects of the Great Goddess had served the needs of the Stone Age cultures well, but with the rise of metal there was a necessity for under-siege societies to present more physical fronts. It is therefore understandable why cultures adopted the veneration of macho sky gods as opposed to goddesses in their belief systems. The Christian church that Constantine established requested from its brethren a steadfast defiance. The creation of both male and female ‘soldiers’ was a stark contrast to the subtler, ambiguous qualities of those associated with the matriarchies of the past. In the Acts of the Apostles (ch. 8 v. 9-12), written towards the end of the first century, we find another heroine - Helen, the consort of the shawowy figure known as Simon Magus. Simon appears to have all of the attributes of the divine man and this was eventually recognised in the second century when he was immortalised as a Gnostic saviour. Simon’s Helen has striking parallels with that of Jesus Christ’s own cohort Mary Magdalene, for both women appear to be acting as earthly consorts to the now, all-powerful, divine child. Simon’s redemption of the ‘whore’ Helen demonstrates to us the shift in power that has occurred from the Stone Age matriarchies to the heroic patriarchies. It is clear from the presence of these two women that the goddess was no longer considered divine, her ability to transcend time and space had been curtailed. She was now regarded simply as an earthbound goddess. Through the Greek language the Gnostics, unlike their Christian counterparts acknowledged the Holy Spirit as wisdom and as this was a considered to be feminine trait, it resulted in the adoration of the female goddess Sophia. However in the Christian story, Mary’s role as the divine child’s mother is relegated to a fleeting bit part. Her portrayal as a virgin clearly demonstrates the denial of the Great Goddess’ sexual prowess once venerated by the pagan religions. It is clear that this denial sparked a two thousand year vendetta against any woman who used her sexuality to her advantage. Throughout Europe the persecution of witches in the Middle Ages marked retaliation against goddess worship. Even in our own society, promiscuous women are vilified, in stark contrast to the prowess heaped upon their male counterparts. It is clear that during these uncertain times, the goddess’ power posed a threat to both king and Pope, for her legacy stretched far back beyond the advent of the written word to an undocumented time of mystery and heresy. Once worshipped for her fruitfulness, the Great Goddess had now become a figure of abhorrence and dread. The new religion was judgemental of her fecundity and chose to focus on her negative aspects. The once powerful god of love was now perceived as a hag or old maid her associations with death and destruction made her an odium figure of dread. Closer to home… Rather than being regarded as a backwater of European culture, it is clear from Caesar’s observations that Britain was considered a nucleus of Druidic belief. Although Druidic in name, the religion practiced in Britain was of a direct descent from the goddess cults of the Stone Age. The occupying Roman army worshipped the god Mithras, but it is clear that even the Roman soldiers edged their bets regarding their patronage. Alongside with their own beliefs they found time to adore local deities, many of which portrayed the goddess in her triple form. A small relief of three hooded deities (Genii Caculatti) found in the civilian settlement outside the Roman fort of Housesteads on Hadrian’s Wall confirms this cautious, but opportunist adoration. After the fall of Rome, Britain became host to an insurgency of religious factions. These uncoordinated post-pagan patriarchies were dominated by the arrival of Celtic saints that provided the populous with a progression from their traditional beliefs. However the Roman Church was not happy with this uncoordinated approach to worship and at the Synod Of Whitby in 664 the Roman Church took precedence over British principles, and the goddess’ influence upon the brethren was curtailed. To the simple peasant however, the abandonment of a belief that had kept them and their families in good stead for generations was not something that could or would be discarded overnight. At the time, the British Isles islands played host to ‘rag-bag’ of beliefs that embraced both druidic and Celtic tradition. It is apparent that although administratively the country had chosen to accept the ways of Rome, at grassroots level the belief in the goddess continued, albeit in clandestine patronage. The Roman Church realising the chaos that would ensue from a religious revolution, decided that the conversion would be one of conciliation rather than confrontation. This approach kept the brethren onside and enabled the progression of the subtle integration of the old religion into the mother church. We have only to look in our churches and cathedrals to find evidence of this continued patronage. Notification of the denial of the power of nature had obviously not reached the ears of the masons and craftsmen of the land, for the embellishment of many of our great Christian edifices owes much to pagan ideology. We can be sure that Druidic beliefs survived and were perpetuated under the banner of the Roman Church, for in France many of the Madonna and child effigies, almost certainly an evolution of the goddess figurines of pre-history, bear testimony to this cult. The Druidic veneration of vegetation appears to have been perpetuated for many versions of this iconography have associations with trees, in fact, many are carved or made out of wood. At Manosque in Provence we find patronage to ‘Our Lady of the Brambles’ and similarly on the Col d’ Arés near prats-de-Mollo we find ‘Our Lady of the Oak Tree’. Interestingly the two icons belong to a tradition of Madonna and child effigies know as Black Madonnas or Black Virgins. This patronage is likely to have been an evolution of the veneration of the Classical goddess Artemis - the punisher of sexual transgressors who is intrinsically linked with tree worship. It is however generally acknowledged, that the veneration of such icons stems back to Ancient Egypt and that the effigies depict not Mary and Jesus, but Isis and Horus – a goddess and her divine child. The Goddess and the Grail The quest for The Holy Grail has become a modern metaphor for the elusive, the sought after and anything that is beyond our reach. Maybe this elusive chalice has always simply been a metaphor for ethereal knowledge. Those classical scholars that sought the Gold of Troy or the Golden Fleece were misguided souls, who like Dick Whittington, sought material gain at the end of every rainbow. The ambiguity demonstrated by the goddess will always evoke tales of mystery, but it the treasure that we seek is knowledge and enlightenment then our obsessive treasure hunt must be relinquished to comprehend the mysterious. The denial of the goddess is understandable, her adulation, especially for the Anglican Church was considered idolatry and therefore heretical. Her very presence undermines their basic masculine principles. The Roman and Protestant churches went to great lengths to suppress the goddess’ influence they could do little to restrain her authority in communities throughout the land. The suppression of the goddess resulted in covert adulation and her adoration became clandestine. The church administered a policy of reluctant acceptance for an undeniable goddess who could be seen yet not heard. It is not just fairytales that preserve the goddess’ memory, for throughout our own land we are able to find continuing evidence of this adoration. Many physical, iconic representations still exist and rituals still survive that pay patronage to her principles; from triumvirate stone settings associated with the Neolithic and Bronze Ages, Romano-British triple goddess figurines and carvings like the previously mentioned relic at Housesteads, through to carvings of shela-na-gigs and other representatives of the goddess in churches and cathedrals. We began this introduction by considering the possibility of the co-existence of alien intelligences within our midst. As a consequence of our research we have revealed not an alien, but a familiar figure to whom we have become estranged. welbourn TEKH – Lincoln – November 2005 |
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