Showing posts with label Delphi. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Delphi. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Picture Postcard #9 – Pythia




The Games had run their course. Delphi had emptied, its song having been sung.

When the last pilgrim emerged from the temple, red-eyed and shaking, I stepped forward with a young goat under my arm and a laurel branch clutched in my hand.

A hunched priest led me to an altar where I rinsed my hands and face with Castalian water, and made my offering to Apollo. The goat flinched when its throat was slit and soon slept in a pool of its own blood.

I fanned myself with the laurels as the priest’s knife cut with precision, his old hands unshaking.

He nodded and I was led down the flight of steps where another priest muttered instructions that I did not hear.

It was dark but for a sputtering torch in an ancient bracket upon the wall.

Above, in the cella and outside, the smell of incense was sweet, the marble white and gleaming in the sun upon the mountainside.

But as I went deeper into the earth, my legs heavy as lead, the walls were of deepest green and black, the smoke not sweet but acrid and overpowering.

A humming drummed in my ears, my mind… my heart… my…

Love…

There she sat.

The girl I had loved in my youth.

The woman I had married.

When I entered the sanctum to see her in the sacred tripod, the blood-red veil shading her once-bright and dancing eyes, I knew she was no longer mine.

I had intended to plead with the god for my Love’s life, to promise a thousand statues or the fall of enemy nations if I could but have her back.

As the question formed upon my trembling lips the fumes suffocated me where they rose out of that black fissure.

My laurels fell and shrivelled, and the god told me to leave.

To leave…even as a single tear bled from those black eyes…for me…for us.

I do not regret my actions beyond the sanctuary boundaries. The noose upon that olive wood branch was tight, and hugged me like a friend.

Now I am free to wander the silver slopes of Parnassos…to wait for the day Apollo releases my Love.

Then…then we shall be together again.

My request granted.


Friday, March 15, 2013

Delphi – Walking Sacred Ground


In many posts on this blog I have mentioned some of the great sanctuaries of antiquity such as Delos, Olympia and Nemea. I have touched on the special feeling one gets when walking the ground of these places, the sense of peace that washes over you.

Today, we’ll be taking a short tour of one of the most important sanctuaries of the ancient world: Delphi.

Delphi was of course the location of the great sanctuary of Apollo whose priestess, the Pythia, was visited by people from all over the world who came to seek the god’s advice and wisdom.

I have been fortunate enough to visit Delphi a couple of times and I do hope to return there someday. The first time I was there, the mountain rumbled throughout the night. Unused to earthquakes, my brother woke me to say that he thought there was a ghost in the room because his bed (he had the smaller one) was jumping up and down. Looking back, it’s funny that ghosts were a more logical explanation for us. Too many movies, I suppose.

But, despite frequent earthquakes, Delphi is indeed a place of ghosts. They are everywhere, the voices of the past, of the devoted, great and small.

There is something about Delphi that draws you in, that makes you want to go back again and again. Despite the throngs of picture-snapping tourists along the Sacred Way, or the hum of multi-lingual tour guides wherever you step, the sense of peace at Delphi is unmistakable.

View of the Temple of Apollo and valley beyond
For those with the ability to see and hear beyond the bustle, it is as though a smoky veil rises from the ground to block out the noise, leaving you with the mountain, the ruins, the voices of history.

Delphi is located in central Greece in the ancient region of Phokis. Perched on the slopes of Mount Parnassos in a spot one can well imagine gods roaming, it possesses a view of a valley covered in ancient, gnarled olive groves spilling toward the blueness of the Gulf of Corinth.

Here is an excerpt from the upcoming Eagles and Dragons Book II, Killing the Hydra. In one part of the book, some of the characters visit Delphi on their way back to Athens. This is a fragment of a letter from Alene Metella:

“The sanctuary is unlike any other I have ever seen. As I entered the precinct I could feel the god’s presence and an overwhelming sense of peace came over me. It seemed as though music lingered permanently in the air. No doubt Apollo’s muses sit atop the cliffs and peaks playing for him. The air smells sweetly of cedar, and delicate pines speak in hushed tones. Sacred groves of olive stretch out as far as the eye can comprehend, like a vast, glistening ocean in which the waves brake occasionally on the tips of towering cypresses. The shadows of hundreds of years are cast to walk with the living, and soft muted breezes caress the ears like a warm bath. I think that all of the great poets must have been to this place. See what it has done to me!
            There is a permanent line to see the oracle, the Pythia. It weaves its way down the mountainside, a truly amazing sight. So many pilgrims, for so long.”

Alene Metella has always been a romantic! As a Roman tourist, she might not have known of an earlier deity in Delphi.

Though the site is always associated with him, Apollo did not always rule here.

Delphic 'kylix' depicting Apollo
pouring a libation
Long before the Olympian god arrived, Delphi was the site of a prehistoric sanctuary of Gaia, the Mother Goddess and consort of Uranus.

It was after Apollo, urged on by his mother Leto, defeated the great python in the sanctuary of Gaia that the Delphi came under his protection.

A new era had dawned and after Apollo’s slaying of the Python, barbarism and savage custom were discarded. In place of the old religion came a quest for harmony, a balancing of opposites. Apollo was worshiped as a god of light, harmony, order and of prophecy. His oracles communicated his will and words.

If one approaches Delphi from the east and the town of Arachova, the first thing you pass is another important sanctuary, that of Athena Pronaia. ‘Pronaia’ means ‘before the temple’.  This sanctuary would likely have been visited by pilgrims first.

Tholos in the Sanctuary of Athena Pronaia
The sanctuary of Athena is farther down the mountainside from that of Apollo and located in a quiet olive grove. In its time, it contained two temples dedicated to Athena, the earliest dating to 500 B.C. There were also two treasuries, altars and of course, one of the most picturesque ruins of ancient Greece, the round tholos temple. The latter is 13.5 meters wide and had twenty Doric columns with metopes portraying the Battle of the Amazons and the Battle of the Centaurs the remains of which can be seen in the Delphi museum. The exact use of the tholos is uncertain though many believe it was consecrated to the cult of Chronic deities.

Between the two sanctuaries is the sacred spring of Kastalia, the water of which was intimately associated with the oracle. Water from here was carried to the sanctuary of Apollo and it was also here that priests and pilgrims cleansed themselves before entering god’s domain.

As part of her ritual too, the Pythia bathed in the Kastalian spring before entering the Temple of Apollo.  
When the Pythia was prophesying, Delphi must have been bustling, for she was not always there. In fact, in its early days, the oracle performed her function once a year on the 7th day of the ancient month of Bysios (February-March) which was considered Apollo’s birthday. Later, the Pythia prophesied once a month, apart from the three winter months when Apollo was said to spend time in the land of the Hyperboreians far to the north.

I won’t describe all the remains of the sanctuary of Apollo in detail here. There is far too much to cover and it is all fascinating. I will say that it is one of those places that every lover of history must visit.

When I think of history, the study of it, this place is what it’s all about.

On your way through the sanctuary you pass many remains, one of the most interesting being the Athenian treasury which held many rich votive offerings from the ancient polis. It is well preserved and some of the most interesting things are the inscriptions of the Hymns to Apollo and carvings of laurel leaves upon its walls.

The Sibyl's Rock
On the left, once you leave the Athenian treasury, there are two large boulders. They look to be nothing more than rocks but these were of utmost sanctity thousands of years ago. The smaller of the two is called Leto’s rock because it is believed that that is where Apollo’s mother stood when she urged him to slay the python. The larger rock is called the Sibyl’s Rock as that is where the first oracle (‘Sibyl’ is another name for Apollo’s oracles) stood when she came to Delphi and gave her first prophecy.

Each time I walk the marble of the Sacred Way, zigzag my way up to the Temple of Apollo, the theatre and the stadium beyond, I am in awe. The sun seems more brilliant here, the colours richer. The buzzing of cicadas in the pine and olive trees are a sound ancient pilgrims would have been familiar with.  It would have been crowded during the time of prophesy and the line must have wended its way down the mountain to Kastalia and the sanctuary of Athena.

Every part of the sanctuary would have been adorned with bronze and marble statues, tripods, altars and other offerings from around the world. The smoke of incense and sacrifice would have weaved among it all to please Apollo and other deities who also had altars about the temple such as Zeus, Poseidon and Hestia whose immortal flame remained burning.

Ruins of Temple of Apollo
The Temple of Apollo itself occupies a magnificent position and though not much remains, it is still a place of awe due in large part to the surroundings. The layout is not known exactly due to damage over time but archaeologists have discovered that there were two ‘cellae’ (temple chambers), an outer one where priests and pilgrims remained, and an inner one.

The inner cella is believed to have been the subterranean chamber where only the Pythia herself was permitted. This chamber was where she prophesied. It contained another sacred spring, the Kassiotis spring, from which she drank, a crack in the earth from which fumes emanated, the oracular tripod in which she sat and the sacred ‘omphalos’, or, ‘navel of the earth’.

The Pythia would chew laurel leaves, inhale the fumes from the earth and go into her trance. She would deliver her prophecy in riddles which were delivered to pilgrims.

Artist Representation of
The Pythia
To a modern mind, the ancients might seem absurdly superstitious, naïve even. But, in the ancient world the respect and awe with which the oracle of Delphi was viewed cannot be overestimated.
The truth of the oracle was never doubted for matters great or small. Cities, peoples, peasants and kings all sought the wisdom and guidance of Apollo through the oracle.

When I reach the top of the site and look out over the sanctuary to the valley and sea beyond I feel that I do not want to leave. From the top of the third century B.C. theatre, or in the quiet of the stadium that once held 7000 spectators for the Pythian games, I reflect on my journey and those of the people who have come here before.

As a writer, I find people fascinating. What brought each of them to this place? What questions might they have asked? How did they receive the answers given by the oracle?

Delphi was not just the site of some quaint, ancient, superstitious practices as some might see them today. This was a place of power, of beauty, refinement and of hope. In some ways, it still is.

The Pythia is gone, the sacred games long-since banished by the Christian Emperor Theodosius I. The temple and the treasures of the sanctuary have been looted and what is left lies in romantic ruin or on display in the museum.

However, if your path ever leads you to this ancient place on the slopes of Mount Parnassos, you may just hear the pilgrims’ prayers to their gods, the melodic utterings of hymns to Apollo and the hushed voice of his oracle beyond the veil as she passes his words on to generations of mortals seeking his wisdom.

The peaceful sanctuary of Athena Pronaia

Ruins of the theatre which overlook the Temple of Apollo

The Stadium farther up the mountain from the sanctuary
was the site of the Pythian Games and seated up to 7000 spectators

Detail of temple foundations

Location of the entrance to the Temple of Apollo


Saturday, July 21, 2012

Ancient Olympic Anecdotes


Ancient Runners
The modern Games of the XXXth Olypmiad are nearly upon us and so, we shall continue with another Olympic-themed post. Whatever the age, ancient or modern, there are always Olympic heroes whose names will echo for all time because of the deeds they performed. Today we remember athletes such as Carl Lewis for his speed, Cuban boxer Teófilo Stevenson for his Olympic ideals, Nadia Comaneci for her gymnastic glory or Jesse Owens for his inspiring victories before Hitler at the 1936 Berlin Games. These are but a handful of examples. Feats of glory and courage are part and parcel with the Olympics themselves.

It is the same with the ancient Games.

A little research into the past will reveal that the ancient Olympics were not without heroes. The gods were indeed honoured by the feats performed at this ancient ritual at Olympia, beside the rivers Alfeios and Kladeos from 776 B.C. to A.D. 394 when they were banned by Emperor Theodosius I.

Wrestling
Ancient sources speak of several competitors who wore the olive crown repeatedly in their day. There is the southern Italian Greek, Milo of Kroton, who was victorious in wrestling no less than six times, once as a boy and then among the ranks of men. Milo’s defeat only came seven Olympiads later in 512 B.C. when a younger challenger wore him out by evading him, not overpowering him. Milo was a legend, a showman, and he performed feats of strength wherever he went, a second Herakles. He was also an excellent warrior and the story goes that when his town of Kroton was attacked, the Olympian joined the battle wearing his crowns and dressed like Herakles, club and all. He led his fellow citizens to victory. Another time, Milo saved a gathering of Pythagoreans whose meeting hall began to collapse. Milo held the central pillar to allow everyone to run to safety before he jumped out himself. That was a man who lived his title every day of his life.

Then there is Melankomas of Caria, a sort of pacifist boxer! He was the victor at the 207th Olympiad in A.D. 49. Melankomas was known for his perfect physique and good looks but with such attributes, he felt the need to prove his courage. And so, he chose athletics as the most honourable and strenuous path open to him. The training was more trying than that of a soldier! His boxing style was to defend himself from the blows of his opponents without striking them. Often, the opponents would get frustrated and lose composure in the face of Melankomas’ endurance; he could apparently fight all day in the summer heat without striking anyone. The others must have just collapsed! At any rate, Melankomas was undefeated throughout his career yet he never once hit an opponent, nor was he himself hit. Unique style, I’ll give him that.

Boxing
One of my personal favourites is the story of Diagoras of Rhodes, boxer, and victor at the 79th Olympiad in 464 B.C. When the great poet Pindar praises him as a ‘straight-fighting, tremendous man who had himself crowned beside the Alpheus’ (Olympian 7), you know this is a special person. Diagoras was supposedly everything a noble, ancient athlete should be, his character perfectly virtuous. Not only did he win the Olympic crown, but he was also victorious four times at the Isthmian Games and twice at the Nemean Games and elsewhere. And it ran in the family! Diagoras of Rhodes lived to witness the Olympic victories of two of his sons, Damagetos and Akousilaos, in pankration and boxing respectively. After the sons’ victories they hoisted their father on their shoulders while the crowd sang the praises of the entire family. In addition to that shining moment, two of Diagoras’ daughters’ sons were also Olympic victors, making that three generations of the Diagoras family to be crowned at Olympia. No wonder there was talk of their divine ancestry!

Many know that the ancient Olympic Games were closed to women who were not allowed to participate or observe the games, not even to set foot in the sacred sanctuary during the games. However, one of my favourite Olympic anecdotes has to do with the Spartan princess, Cynisca. This young, vibrant and strong woman was the daughter of Archidamus II, King of Sparta and the later sister of King Agesilaus II. Cynisca was also the first woman in history to win in an event at the ancient Olympic Games.

Four Horse Chariot
What’s that? you ask. You said women were not permitted to participate in the games! Yes, that is true, except when it came to the owning and training of horses in the equestrian events. And this is where Cynisca made her mark. According to Pausanias, the princess was an expert equestrian and had ambitions toward the Olympic Games. If anyone could have pulled this off, it was a Spartan. Though Spartan girls did not enter into the brutal Agoge as the boys did, to make them the fierce warriors that they were, Spartan girls were, nevertheless, trained in many sports including riding and hunting. The Spartan view was that strong women breed strong Spartan men. No other Greek women were permitted such a life, most being kept indoors. At any rate, Cynisca’s team went on to win the four-horse chariot race in both 396 B.C. and 392 B.C. She may not have seen her team win, but she was honoured with a bronze statue of a chariot team and one of herself in the Temple of Zeus at Olympia. She even had her own hero shrine in Sparta. Both honours were a first for women.

To the Victor!
There were of course, several sacred games held in ancient Greece: the Olympic Games, the Isthmian Games, the Pythian Games and the Nemean Games. How many victor’s stories have been lost to history? Sadly, probably too many. But we should be happy to have some still available to us. The stories, like those of our modern Olympic heroes, are inspiring anecdotes that history has left us. When we walk the ground of ancient Olympia today, or read the histories in ancient texts, to my ears the roar of the crowd still rings true, despite the passage of time. I can hear the crash in the dust as Milo of Kroton throws an opponent, the adoration of the crowd for the Diagoras family, or Cynisca’s victorious yell outside the sanctuary walls as she made Olympic history.

If you are fortunate enough to be watching the XXXth Olympiad in London this summer, take note, take it in. You may be witnessing history in the making.