Sunday Inspiration: Enemies
“Since it is so likely that they will meet cruel enemies [in real life], let them at least have heard of brave knights and heroic courage. Otherwise you are making their destiny not brighter but darker.”
—C. S. Lewis
Interview: Tradition
Into the Wonder: Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Mr. Fountain.
Mr. Fountain: My pleasure. Can I offer you something to eat?
ITW: I think I’ll pass. You’ve lived in the United States for some time, I take it?
Mr. F: There was no such thing as “the United States” when I got here. Just a jumble of colonies up and down the coast.
ITW: And you came over because…?
Mr. F: Where I come from, we have a saying: “Where your ancestors do not live, you cannot build your house.”
ITW: I’m sorry. I don’t think I follow.
Mr. F: Let’s just say there were plenty of folk arriving on these shores that could use an ancestor or two.
ITW: You’re an ancestral spirit?
Mr. F: Oh, maybe not in any literal sense. But yes, that’s an apt description. You might say I’m a symbol of the past. A lot of culture got lost in the Middle Passage. If I can help folk remember the old ways, get in touch with who they are, where they come from…well, that just does my heart good.
ITW: That’s very commendable.
Mr. F: There’s a reason for tradition, young man.
ITW: Yes, sir.
Mr. F: You don’t want to throw it away on a whim. Might just throw away something you need if you’re not careful. Sit up straight, son! Have some respect for yourself.
ITW: Yes, sir.
Mr. F: That’s better. So many folk these days suffer from a lack of proper upbringing. I could tell you about a pooka I know, but I won’t belabor the point.
ITW: Of course not. But speaking of pookas, it seems like there are a lot of different types of fae. Do you all get along.
Mr. F: Son, you really are new to all this, aren’t you?
ITW: Well, it’s just that…
Mr. F: Let me tell you, most of us get along just fine if we’re left alone. You start trying to get us organized and before long you’re going to have a goat rodeo on your hands. That’s why there’s no central government among Our Kind. Whenever one of our chiefdoms grows too big, it either splits up or they find a way to share power so no one faction can lord it over the others.
ITW: You’re talking about the faery Courts?
Mr. F: That’s more of a Eurocentric thing, but you’ve got the idea. The nunnehi have a different arrangement, but it serves the same purpose. I’m not sure what the jogaoh do; I’ve never traveled that far north. Personally, I try to ignore all of them.
ITW: And they don’t object?
Mr. F: They know better than that. I have something of a reputation, you might say.
ITW: You seem very passionate about your beliefs.
Mr. F: Have you ever met one of Our Kind who wasn’t passionate about something?
ITW: Not really, but I’ve only met a few.
Mr. F: Well, let me tell you. You don’t want to push a fae’s buttons. Ever.
ITW: No, I don’t believe I do…. Thank you once again for your time, Mr. Fountain. This was very helpful. I wish there were a way I could repay you.
Mr. F: Don’t worry, son. I’ll think of something.
Classical Timeline
Just sighted: interactive timelines for classical philosophy and early Christianity. Check out ClassicalTimeline. Although still in beta, it looks like it could be very cool.
Have Scientist Finally Tracked Down the Yeti?
Research by a leading British geneticist on some unidentified hair samples from the Himalayas suggests a possible answer to the mystery of the Yeti or “Abominable Snowman.” Bryan Sykes, a professor of genetics at Oxford University, found a 100% match with DNA recovered from the remains of a Norwegian polar bear dating back 40,000–120,000 years. Sykes says,
“But we can speculate on what the possible explanation might be. It could mean there is a subspecies of brown bear in the High Himalayas descended from the bear that was the ancestor of the polar bear. Or it could mean there has been more recent hybridization between the brown bear and the descendant of the ancient polar bear.”
This will, no doubt, come as a shock and a bit of a disappointment to Yeti and Bigfoot enthusiasts.
Elf-shot
The people of the British Isles tended to blame unexplained illnesses on the malevolent work of elves. As early as the tenth century, medical books discuss elves afflicting both humans and livestock with death and disease via “elf-shot.” In Scots Gaelic, this phenomenon was called a saighead sithe (“faery arrow”). In Irish Gaelic, it was a gae sídhe (“faery dart”).
Elf-shot might be compared to the supposed druidic ability to “send” misfortune by putting a curse on an object (say, a handful of straw) and then throwing it at the intended victim. Elf-shot does the same thing, but delivers the magical “payload” via arrows or darts. In fact, people appealed to the neolithic flint arrow heads they sometimes found on their land as evidence of the activity of elves.
Elf-shot “payloads” can be quite diverse. Apparently many types of curses and hexes could be embedded on the projectile. Some of the more commonly encountered types of elf-shot curses are:
- Sudden shooting pains, which might be diagnosed as rheumatism, arthritis, muscle stitches, cramps, etc. The Old English medical text Wið færstice provides a remedy for this sort of elf-shot.
- Sudden paralysis. We call cerebrovascular accidents “strokes” because they were formerly believed to be the result of the stroke of an elf or faery’s hand.
- Sluggishness, hard breathing, and loss of appetite associated with the opening of the peritoneum in livestock (as described in America Bewitched by Owen Davies, p. 39).
- Bad dreams (referred to in German as Alpdrücken, “elf-pressure”). Also, the phenomenon known as sleep paralysis was often explained as the work of elves, demons, etc.
- Blackleg (aka black quarter, quarter evil, or quarter ill), an acute infection of cattle, sheep, and goats characterized by crepitant swelling of the muscles of the infected part (see T. Davidson, “The Cure of Elf-Disease in Animals” in the Journal of the History of Medicine and Allied Sciences 15/3 [1960]: 15:282–91).
- Tumors. Like paralysis, tumors were often considered a curse inflicted by elves.
- Death of animals as suddenly as if they had been struck by lightning (referred to in Swedish as skot “shot” and in Danish as elleskud “elf-shot”).
Though several years old, Richard Scott Nokes discussed elves, faeries, and elf-shot in a nice, brief post at his Unlocked Wordhoard blog. He makes some interesting observations about how we deal with unexplained illness today—and how we may not be quite as far removed from our ancestors as we might like to think.
Sunday Inspiration: Dragons
Fairy tales do not tell children the dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children the dragons can be killed.
—G. K. Chesterton
Interview: “Faery”
Into the Wonder: Your name is Danny…?
Danny: If it’s all the same to you, Professor, sir, I’ll just stick with Danny.
ITW: Your Kind seem to be a bit touchy about names.
D: Yeah, well. You try living amongst folk who can…do things…if they know your name.
ITW: Fair enough.
D: Oh, your everyday name is usually pretty safe. Not much magic in it, at least compared to your true name. But if you’re really gonna share this little talk with the whole Topside world…
ITW: Yes, I see your point. And is that why Your Kind object to the word “faery”?
D: That’s part of it, I suppose. It’s not really a bad word, so to speak. Just a little forward, you know? Say your boss is named Charles. You don’t just go around calling him Charlie—not to his face, anyway!
ITW: And Your Kind consider yourselves our bosses?
D: I ain’t never said that! Oh, the Gentry’ll take that attitude, I admit. But most of us don’t. We got more sense than that. But anyway. Yeah, “faery” just don’t sound right. We’ll use the word to describe our animals, our magic, stuff like that. But ourselves? Forget it!
ITW: You prefer “fae.”
D: Most of us, anyways. A fella down in South Carolina explained it to me once. You see, fae comes from an old French word, faé. “Enchanted.” I don’t exactly know how you spell it, though.
ITW: Don’t worry, I’ll spell-check it later.
D: Thanks. So, if you look at it scientifically, faery relates to fae the same as witchery relates to witch or knavery relates to knave.
ITW: So it’s not a person. It’s a concept? A characteristic?
D: You got it. It’s the whole shebang. It ain’t just Our Kind; it’s the realm we share with all kinds of magical creatures.
ITW: But it’s also those creatures themselves, right?
D: Right. Call one of Our Kind a faery, you’re lumping him in with everything in the Wonder: the plants, the animals, the whole deal, you see? How’d you like it if I called you by the same name I called your dog?
ITW: That’s very helpful. So it’s fine to talk about faery dogs or faery horses…
D: Some of my best friends are faery dogs and horses.
ITW: Just not…uh…faery faeries.
D: Bingo.
ITW: Thank you, Danny, for taking the time to visit. Is there anything else you’d like to say?
D: Just that Our Kind are just like Topsiders. We can be some of the friendliest, most helpful folk you’d ever want to meet. But we can also be cruel, selfish, petty, and destructive. You’ve got to take the good with the bad.
ITW: That’s a lesson all of us could learn.
Into the Wonder
None of this made any sense. Maybe she was right, and Danny had drugged her. Maybe she was having some kind of seizure. This had to be a dream. To be sure, it was a very lifelike dream complete with nausea and asthma attacks, but still just a dream. Right? Until somebody woke her up, there wasn’t much she could do but go with it.
“So…what’s all this stuff about faeries?” she said.
“I’d rather you not use that word,” Danny said. “It’s not really politically correct. A while back, some of us wanted to say ‘eldritch Americans,’ but it never caught on. ‘The Fair Folk’ or ‘Our Kind’ is better. Most just say ‘fae,’ or else refer to each other according to their kindred.”
Taylor stared at him blankly.
“You see, Our Kind comes in a lot of different tribes or families: kindreds. I guess you could say they’re like Topsider ethnic groups. For example, I’m a pooka. Bryn is a huldra. That sort of thing.”
“O-o-o-kay.”
“I know this is hard to take in all at once.”
You can say that again! Taylor thought.
“But,” she began, “…and I don’t mean to be rude or anything… Faeries don’t exist!”
“We get that a lot,” Danny shrugged. “And ‘eldritch Americans’ or ‘fae,’ if you don’t mind.”
“All right, ‘fae.’ But…people like you…are supposed to be tiny! And have little butterfly wings!”
Danny smiled—then winced. His cheek was starting to turn purple. Taylor had given him a serious bruise with that tree branch back in Macon!
“One thing you gotta to know about Our Kind, Taylor: Between the shapeshifting, the size-shifting, glamours, and all the other spells and whatnot, powerful fae can pretty much look however they want. And as for the tiny bodies and the wings and all, that’s what we want you to think! It makes us look like a joke, you see? Something nobody would take seriously. Get enough people believing that Our Kind are nothing but faery godmothers, or tiny women in mini-dresses, or jolly toymakers who live at the North Pole…”
“Or the tooth faery….”
“Never let one of Our Kind anywhere near your teeth!” Danny said, suddenly serious.
“Okay,” Taylor agreed, startled at Danny’s abruptness. “Good advice. Thanks.”
Fairies in the Bible?
Joel Hoffman is blogging today about unicorns and other mythological creatures in the Bible—or at least in the King James Version. As he usually does, Dr. Hoffman raises an intriguing question about how the original Hebrew words the KJV rendered as “dragon,” “unicorn,” and so forth should be handled. Did the original writers intend their readers to understand these as real-world creatures (e.g., as serpents, rhinoceroses, etc.) or did they mean to depict creatures of fantasy? He writes,
More generally, I think the real translation question with all of these creatures is whether they were intended to be mythic or — for want of a better word — real.
Even if they were intended to be real, “dragon” and “unicorn” may have been right once. It seems that people thought that both existed. (As late as the 17th century, scholars in Europe argued that griffins were real, and the only reason we didn’t see them was that, quite naturally, these magnificent creatures tended to stay away from people who would steal their gold). But now those translations wrongly take the real and turn them into fantasy.
On the other hand, if they were not meant to be real, then attempts to identify the exact species may be misguided, and maybe we should stick with “dragon” and “unicorn” and so forth.
Hoffman deals mainly with “unicorns” (re’em) and “dragons” (tannin), although he makes passing reference to a possible merperson in the character of Dagon, the god of the Philistines.
Along these same lines, I would suggest that there are a handful of possible reference to fairies in the Bible—at least if the rabbis of the medieval period were interpreting these passages rightly.
Two Hebrew words are of interest: shedim and se’irim, both translated daimonia (“demons”) in the Septuagint. Shedim only appear twice in the Hebrew Bible, both times in the plural (although the singular form would be shed). Psalm 106:37 says, “They sacrificed their own sons and daughters to demons!” (CEB). In a similar context, Deuteronomy 32:17 says,
They sacrificed to demons, not to God,
to deities of which
they had no knowledge—
new gods only recently on the scene,
ones about which your ancestors
had never heard.
Shedim are therefore obviously bad news in the Bible. Oddly enough, the term seems to be related to the Akkadian shedu, a benevolent or protective spirit, perhaps something we might think of as a guardian angel. Then again, people around the world have made offerings to various local protective spirits to secure their goodwill. The biblical writers were obviously interested in discouraging such a practice. Thus, in the Bible, they are depicted not as helpful minor spirits but as false gods to be avoided.
The next word is se’irim (singular se’ir), meaning “hairy beings” or “shaggy beings.” In the KJV, the word is translated “satyrs.” There are a few more references to se’irim than there are to shedim. According to Leviticus 17:7, “The Israelites must no longer sacrifice their communal sacrifices to the goat demons that they follow so faithlessly. This will be a permanent rule for them throughout their future generations.” The LXX renders se’irim as mataiois, “to empty or vain things.”
Se’irim dwell in the desolate wilderness and are apparently fond of dancing. According to Isaiah 13:21,
Wildcats will rest there;
houses will be filled with owls.
Ostriches will live there,
and goat demons (LXX, daimonia) will dance there.
And again in Isaiah 34:14:
Wildcats will meet hyenas,
the goat demon will call to his friends,
and there Lilith will lurk
and find her resting place.
I saw you wondering about Lilith in that verse. We’ll come back to her in a minute. It should be noted, that the Septuagint translation removes Lilith from the picture but possibly gives us a completely new mythological creature. My fairly wooden translation of the Greek is as follows:
Demons will meet onocentaurs
and they will shout one to the other,
There onocentaurs will rest
for they found a resting place for themselves.
If you’re not up to speed on medieval bestiaries, let me quickly explain that an onocentaur is part man, part ass. (And please refrain from any comments about half-ass blog posts. Thank you.)
According to the Jewish Encyclopedia, the se’irim are “are satyr-like demons, described as dancing in the wilderness…identical with the jinn of the Arabian woods and deserts.” Azazel, the goat-like wilderness demon (Lev 16:10ff) and Lilith (whom we already encountered in Isa 34:14) are said to be of the same class of beings. Further, it should be noted that some see in Lilith a prototype for later vampire legends. The Jewish Encyclopedia also raises the possibility that “the roes and hinds of the field” (gazelles and wild deer in the CEB) in Song of Songs 2:7 and 3:5 are “faunlike spirits similar to the se’irim, though of a harmless nature.”
How does all this apply to fairies? Thomas Keightley argued in The Fairy Mythology (1870) that the prototypes of European fairy legends were to be found not only in the nymphs and satyrs of Greco-Roman mythology but also in Near Eastern stories of jinns and peris (or jinn and parian, to use the correct Arabic and Persian plurals). He even argued that our English word “fairy” derives ultimately from Persian pari (or peri). This linguistic argument may or may not hold, but anyone who looks at Persian peri-stories will find many parallels to what was believed about fairies in rural Europe until fairly recent times.
If Keightley is correct, then the European conception of fairies owes a good deal to the Mediterranean and Near Eastern world(s) in which the Bible was written. It therefore would not be unusual to find references to the such creatures in biblical and other early Semitic materials.
After tracing the fairy mythology throughout northern Europe, Keightley makes quick reference to Jewish legends about similar creatures found in the rabbinic corpus. These beings are in fact called shedim and seirim (although Keightley transliterates them shedeem and shehireem). Another term, maziqin (or mazikeen in Keightley’s transliteration), is Aramaic and applies specifically to a malevolent spirit. According to rabbinic tradition, all these beings are in fact directly analogous to the jinn of Arabic folklore. Keightley writes,
It has long been an established article of belief among the Jews that there is a species of beings which they call Shedeem, Shehireem, or Mazikeen. These beings exactly correspond to the Arabian Jinn; and the Jews hold that it is by means of them that all acts of magic and enchantment are performed.
The Talmud says that the Shedeem were the offspring of Adam. After he had eaten of the Tree of life, Adam was excommunicated for one hundred and thirty years. “In all those years,” saith Rabbi Jeremiah Ben E’liezar, “during which Adam was under excommunication, he begat spirits, demons, and spectres of the night, as it is written, ‘Adam lived one hundred and thirty years, and begat children in his likeness and in his image,’ which teaches, that till that time he bad not begotten them in his own likeness.” In Berasbith Rabba, R. Simon says, “During all the one hundred and thirty years that Adam was separate from Eve, male spirits lay with her, and she bare by them, and female spirits lay with Adam, and bare by him.”
These Shedeem or Mazikeen are held to resemble the angels in three things. They can see and not be seen; they have wings and can fly; they know the future. In three respects they resemble mankind: they eat and drink; they marry and have children; they are subject to death. It may be added, they have the power of assuming any form they please; and so the agreement between them and the Jinn of the Arabs is complete.
Keightley shares three Jewish legends about the shedim: “The Broken Oaths,” “The Moohel,” and “The Mazik-Ass.”
As with dragons and unicorns, there are probably some who will pounce on “rational” or “scientific” explanations for fairies. Some do, in fact, attribute European fairy-lore to dim memories of diminutive tribes driven underground—and ultimately to extinction—by later invaders with the advantage of iron weapons (in both Europe and the Middle East, iron is a potent weapon against the Fair Folk).
In my experience, however, I think most interpreters would see shedim and se’irim as terms intended to describe supernatural or otherworldly beings and not merely misidentified pygmies or “wild men”—whether or not they judge such creatures to be “real.”
Reclaiming Mystery
Bosco Peters links to a story about a fascinating character, the Wizard of New Zealand. Since New Zealand is the stunt double for Middle Earth, it really shouldn’t surprise me that they have their very own “non-fictional, non-commercial, wizard” whose mission in life is to conduct “a largely solo attempt to re-enchant the world, making use of [his] training as an academic sociologist and psychologist.”
Peters elaborates a bit on the importance of mystery for and in the church. His comments are worth a thorough reading, but I’ll simply share a few paragraphs to give you the gist:
Fundamentalists, antitheists, and the insipid are three natural results of the disenchantment.
Fundamentalists reject the enchantment of our spiritual world, accepting instead a flat rationalistic literalism. Antitheists are the shadow side of fundamentalists. Like fundamentalists, they also do not go beyond a flat rationalistic literalism. Rather than accepting the flat literalism as the fundamentalists do, antitheists reject it. For fundamentalists God is scary. For antitheists God is silly.
The third category, that I here call the insipid, is that category that one meets so often in churches: led by clergy who, if they have training at all – it consists in a university degree in the dismembering of the scriptures. These clergy have little to no liturgical study and training. Sacraments have been desiccated to things that occur solely in one’s head. Bells, smells, and symbols are reduced to a couple of candles on a table (if you are lucky). Vesture is degraded to what the majority of Christian history would regard essentially as underwear. They hold to the last vestiges of the outward form of godliness but deny its power.
Indeed.