An Ancient Myth Edition...
Everything
we know about Jesus of Nazareth is tangled-up in myth.
The narrative of his birth and childhood is complete fiction. Even the narrative of his adult ministry, the stories that have been preserved in the Gospels, pick-up around the year 30 CE and even those are imbued with so much metaphor and allegory that none of it may be considered reliable history…they are merely histories of what the communities which produced them believed. They are highly nuanced testimonies of faith written by people who never met Jesus, and then transmitted their understanding of things to future generations.
The traditional narrative of Jesus’ life was thoroughly syncretized to the broader culture of the Mediterranean basin and the Near East, so much so that we do not even refer to Jesus by his given name: Joshua son of Joseph, but instead we name him by a Greek variant that ignores his genealogy, calling him simply Jesus instead.
If we desire to understand this story (as we should), if we desire to understand how it came to be in the form we have received it, then we must engage the broader cultural context of the ancient world; we must engage the whole set of societal, philosophical and theological tributaries that flow into the Christian myth, from which Jesus’ story emerged like Christ from the river Jordan, or Mithra from the cave, or Perseus from the sea.
We must journey beyond the Mediterranean crossroads that was ancient Judea, which the Romans called Palestine; we must go beyond the Greco-Roman world and the great Pan-Hellenic civilization that dominated the region at that time; we must go as far east as ancient Persia, we must dwell for a while with the Mesopotamians of Summer and Akkad, because Jesus’ story begins there millenia before Joshua son of Joseph was born.
Consider the “Cult of Mithras,” which has long been understudied, though it has recently re-emerged and represented as a touchstone of religious mystery in popular culture, though what we see on TV, and on the big-screen has been twisted by the entertainment industry into something unrecognizable from its roots.
The Cult of Mithras, even though it rivaled the early Christian church in terms of its number of adherents and its influence in the Roman Empire, has been overlooked by historians and commonly regarded by scholars as being merely one of many religious movements that competed with Christianity for the fidelity of the masses only to lose out in the end.
The Cult of Mithras was much more than that.
Mithraic
worshippers did not simply age out, die off and take their ideology to the
grave. They converted to Christianity and brought the structure of their
beliefs with them into the burgeoning church.
Mithraic worship, as it was practiced by the Romans (principally by members of the Roman army in the first four centuries of the common era), has its roots in ancient Persia, as an offshoot of Zoroastrianism, and prior to that, among the Celts, in Gaul among the worshippers of Sol Invictus, the Unconquered Son, evolving through the centuries until it reached its final form (of record) as one of the many so-called “mystery cults” at home among the Romans.
It was an international movement that spanned the Eurasian continents from Ireland to India, finding unique cultural expressions in communities both north and south of the Black Sea, in multiple language families and dialects.
The royal court of Persia was converted to Zoroastrian-Mithraism in about 700 BCE[1], as the religion evolve ed from their it was propelled by the extensive influence of the Persian Empire. The reimaging of Mithraism by the Persians through the sacred texts of Mithraism, called the Avestas, had made a significant impact on every society it encountered, and every form of worship in the Mediterranean region, the Near East and Southwest Asia, precisely because it was building on a set of long standing beliefs and traditions common to the ancient world, which some scholars say date back as early as 3,500 BCE (a time of great upheaval), and for which the oldest fragment of writing we possess is dated to 1,350 BCE.
This essay is an attempt to communicate the multiple ways by which Mithraism has influenced the development of other faith traditions, but most importantly the Judea-Christian tradition, and most significantly our beliefs about Jesus, including the mystery of his birth and death.
As previously mentioned, scholarship on Mithraism is scant (though growing). Their sacred texts were not preserved. Most of what we know comes from secondary sources, and a few archeological sites where tile mosaics and bas reliefs remained intact even after the worship spaces where they were made were taken over by Christians for their own uses.
Most research in the twentieth century tended to downplay the connection between the form of Mithraism that was practiced by the Roman army, and the form of Mithraism practiced in the heart of Persia, as if they were separate theological traditions. To justify this minimization scholars will site some obvious iconographic and liturgical differences between the two systems of belief, as if to say that the presence of a few recognizable, but nevertheless subtle differences is enough evidence to argue for a complete separation and severable-distinction between the two; these conclusions are commonly drawn despite the greater number of obvious similarities between Roman and Persian Mithraism.
This type of cultural bias has long plagued Western scholarship, which refuses to see the roots of their own traditions in a culture that they willfully perceive as alien to their own.
The following paragraph from David Ulansey’s book The Origins of the Mithraic Mysteries illustrates this point clearly:
The Western mystery cult of Mithraism as it appeared in the Roman Empire derived its very identity from a number of characteristics which were completely absent from the Iranian worship of Mithra: a series of initiations into ever higher levels of the cult accompanied by strict secrecy about the cult’s doctrines; the distinctive cave like temples in which the cult’s devotees met; and, most important, the iconography of the cult, in particular the tauroctony. None of these essential characteristics of Western Mithraism were to be found in the Iranian worship of Mithra.[2]
Some of Ulansey’s predecessors have suggested that the differences between the Persian-Zoarastrian form of Mithraism and that of the Roman army are the product of natural transformations that occur in all belief systems as they move from one culture to another over great expanses of geography and time.
Ulansey’s particular criticisms have to do with extrinsic matters of form and ritual activity, the types of structures people worship in are things that we would expect to change over time and distance, as they incorporate the experiences of descending generations of their adherents to them, which include cultural norms pertaining to art and architecture, poetry and verse and perhaps most importantly: the legal right to practice a religion openly and the exigencies they force on the liturgy of the faithful.
The graduated initiation rites in
use among the Romans, the tauroctony,[3]
the codes of secrecy, and the type of temple worship have little to do with the
central tenets of Mithraism itself; the cosmology and philosophy of Mithraism
preserved the same closely held beliefs that had existed within the Mithraic
tradition from the earliest times in Persia, and continued to exist through its
incarnation as a Roman mystery cult. The central teachings remained the same,
the most significant of which are: belief in the immortality of the soul, and
the notion of personal salvation.
As I indicated earlier when I referenced to Ulansey’s work, Persian Mithraism did not depict Mithra as the “Bull-slayer.” The narrative from Persia is as follows:
At Ahura-Mazda’s instruction Mithra descends from the heavens together with the Primal-Bull, so that Mithra can prepare a feast to share with human-kind. However, Mithra does not slaughter the Primal-Bull; his mission is thwarted, they are assailed by the “evil-one,” Angra-Mainyu, who kills Mithra and the Bull together in one terrible act of violence.
After the slaying, Angra-Mainyu attempts to utterly destroy Mithra and the Primal-Bull. Wanting to achieve more than the death of their bodies, he intended to destroy their spirits, but his efforts were thwarted by Ahura-Mazda who intercedes. Through the power belonging to the God of light, life springs from the tragedy: stalks of wheat and the grape vine spring from the carcass of the Bull. All manner of good things and good creatures flow from the God of light to humankind, through the Primal-Bull and all the blessings of the world flow outward from that point in time to the benefit of everyone.
In this sequence Ahura-Mahzda transforms the violence of Angra-Mainyu into a new creation. Life itself flows from the Bull and Mithra is restored; the table is laid and a feast ensues, human-kind is the beneficiary…after which Mithra returns to Ahura-Mahzda in the heavens.
Note well, there is no significant discrepancy between these two forms of the myth. In both the versions Mithra is sent to Earth by a God possessing greater authority than himself, in both versions the primal-Bull is slain and its death is productive of new life and all good things.
In the Roman version of the myth the slaying of the Bull is an explicit sacrifice; in the Persian version of the myth the intentionality of the sacrifice is implied.
The Roman version is not etiological, it does not address the origins of life on Earth, while the Persian version does. The Roman version is teleological, it is a myth having to do with human destiny, salvation and the life of the immortal soul. The Roman version is also eschatological, insofar as it address the final resolution of evil in the world, in addition to the end of the conflict between the forces of light and darkness. The Persian form balances these two concerns in a perpetual state of conflict without ending them.
In the Persian account, Mithra and the Bull are sent to Earth by the creator deity; their death is a vehicle by which the drama of life on Earth begins, making it a cosmogonic myth of origins, not of life itself, but of our state of being. The death of Mithra and the primal-Bull, while being the result of violence perpetrated by the “evil-one,” does not serve the interest of the perpetrator, but rather the interest of Ahura-Mahzda (which is what implies the sacrifice).
Mithra does not die; his soul is immortal and he returns to heaven, while the body of the Bull produces a super-abundance of life, demonstrating that Ahura-Mahzda is greater than Angra-Mainyu: greater because the God of light not only has the power to create what is good sui generous (in itself), but also greater because Ahura-Mazda has the power to bring good out of evil, making the fruit of the labor of Angra-Mainyu effectively nothing. This profound faith and hope in divine-providence is apparent throughout the structure of myth.
In both the Roman and Persian versions of the myth the death of the Primal-Bull is the beginning of life in the world. First there was darkness, the work of Angra-Mainyu and then there was light, the creation of life itself, and then of life restored. The principal actor in both versions of the myth is the creator God, figured as either Ahura-Mahzda, or Sol Invictus in their respective cultures.
Let me reiterate, whether it is Mithra who kills the Bull or Angra-Mainyu does not matter. The slaying of the Bull serves the purpose of the principal actor, Ahura-Mahzda/Sol Invictus, God of life, God of light, God of good.
Now, having articulated some of the significant differences between the Persian and Roman forms of Mithraism, let us turn to what are the most consistent aspects of worship and doctrine in the Cult of Mithra found in both cultures, from c. 700 BCE through c. 400 CE.[6]
Over the centuries and across the geographical expanse between The Roman Empire and the Persian Empire, Mithraic theology underwent a profound development that would have a lasting influence with successive impactful moments on other faith traditions in the Near East and the broader Mediterranean world.
There are several syncretic shifts we can follow to get the story all-told. These shifts will help us understand the significance of Mithraism in relation to other Mediterranean religions; especially Judaism and Christianity. We do not have to go any farther than the canonical Hebrew and Christian scriptures to see and understand this influence. There is even greater support to be found in non-canonical writings, sometimes referred to as the intertestamental and apocryphal, pseudo-epigraphal literature.
A close study of the Hebrew scriptures reveals that the Jewish people did not always have (and do not now have) a strong belief in either the immortality of the soul, or the afterlife. However, there was a period of time in which these beliefs did flourish in Judaism, and it was exactly in that time when Christianity emerged from Judaism carrying the adherents of tose beliefs with them into a new religious structure.
After the Babylonian exile, which began in 586 BCE, Mithraic beliefs enter the Hebrew tradition in a substantial way, though in fact the people would have been largely aware of them already. Over the next few centuries Mithraic beliefs become clearly developed, especially among those Jewish communities that remained in the diaspora, outside of the former kingdoms of Israel and Judea.
At the time of Jesus, the majority of Hebrews were living in the diaspora. Historical records will uphold the notion that Hebrews living in Rome and its provinces constituted as much as much as ten percent of the total population of free Roman citizens.
Five-hundred years earlier, when the Hebrew people were released from captivity in Babylon, it was by the authority of the Persian king, Cyrus,[7] who is depicted in the Hebrew scriptures as a servant of their own God, Yahweh:
22 In the first year of Cyrus king of Persia—to fulfil the word of Yahweh through Jeremiah—Yahweh roused the spirit of Cyrus king of Persia to issue a proclamation and to have it publicly displayed throughout his kingdom. 23 ‘Cyrus king of Persia says this, “Yahweh, the God of Heaven, has given me all the kingdoms of the earth and has appointed me to build him a Temple in Jerusalem, which is in Judah. Whoever there is among you of all his people, may his God be with him! Let him go...”’[8]
This passage does not shed any light on what Cyrus’s theological disposition might have been, or what his personal beliefs were. What this passage does tell us is this, whatever his theology was (or was perceived to be) his beliefs and the beliefs of the Persian court did not present a significant conflict with the Hebrew theology of that era.
It should be noted that in the period of Cyrus’ reign, the Persian court had been in full adherence to the principles and teaching of Zoroastrian-Mithraism, as it had been for at least one hundred and fifty years (though most likely much longer).
This
passage in the Hebrew scriptures indicates that there was no essential
antagonism between the theological claims of the two cultures. Furthermore, it
is likely that Cyrus and the priests in his service saw a considerable amount
of compatibility between the faiths of the two cultures and their systems of
belief…they were in alignment.
In
this era, Persian Mithraism and Judaism were two essentially monotheistic ideologies
operating in a polytheistic world, though it must be said that neither of them was
perfectly so, and both systems held to the basic tenet of belief that the world
was created by a good God, created for a good purpose, one which would
ultimately redound to the benefit of all-humanity, and that it was
unqualifiedly good.
Mithraism
taught a strongly held belief in the immortality of the soul, while at this
time Judaism did not, but immediately following this period a movement within
Judaism would develop its belief in the immortality of the soul in profoundly
consequential ways. The adherents of this new movement within the Hebrew
culture became known as the Pharisees[9].
Jesus and his disciples, in as much as they are depicted in the Gospels as
being the opponents of the Pharisees, belonged to that movement.[10]
Even
in Jesus’ time, five-hundred years after the Babylonian exile; belief in the
immortality of the soul had not fully entered the mainstream of Hebrew theology
and was even more restricted in Judea, within the borders of Roman Palestine.
Nevertheless, these beliefs were promulgated by the Pharisees and other
communities such as the Essenes who lived in the remote desert community of Qumran
(a Pharisaic sect to which Jesus and his cousin John likely belonged); such beliefs
were fundamental to their theology.
This
is to say that belief in the immortality of the soul was popular among the
Hebrew people for whom the synagogue was the center of faith-life rather than the
temple in Jerusalem.[11]
In
addition to belief in the immortality of the soul, the Pharisees and the
Essenes of Qumran, also had significantly developed angelologies.
Belief
in the existence of angels (a Persian word for divine messenger) was another
matter that took a long time to develop in Hebrew thought, but which was
already present in Mithraism at the time of the Babylonian exile, and which eventually
made its way into Christianity through its Hebrew root system.[12]
Many
scholars say that it is impossible to state with certainty that the Pharisees
received these teachings directly from the Parsees when they were exposed to
Mithraism at the time of the Babylonian captivity…okay, but on preponderance of
the evidence I will say this about that:
Approaching
history with cautious-speculation is laudable, at times, but while certitude
may not be possible, it is also impossible to rule out the conclusion I have
made based on my own speculative-reasoning; making historical determinations is
not like splitting the atom, we are not talking about possibility and
impossibility; we are talking about probability and the role that reasonable
inference may play in in the formulation
of narrative.
What
we can say for certain is that the Pharisees, as a formal sect, came into
existence just after the Babylonian exile, and it is not reasonable to suggests
that the Pharisaic beliefs, which mirror Mithraism, developed independently of Mithraism
at the very same moment in history.
I
do not believe in that type of coincidence…neither should you.
We
may reasonably conclude that the Pharisaic movement within Hebrew theology is a
clear example of cultural syncretism; it was the wholesale purchase by the
Hebrews of an already established and fully developed Persian theology.
The
Babylonian exile and the subsequent release of the Jewish people by the Persian
king Cyrus were the first of many major streams of influence that Mithraism
would have on the Judeo-Christian tradition; we will move slowly through a
discussion of the others.
In
the Hebrew tradition prior to the Babylonian exile, a belief in angels and the
immortality of the soul did not exist as fully developed doctrines, but they
did exist in germ. These ideations were there in a latent form insofar as they existed
as generalized beliefs which permeated the Mediterranean region and the Near
East at that time.
In
most Mediterranean and Near Eastern cultures the concept of a blessed afterlife,
to the extent that such ideas existed, included the idea that those blessed
places were reserved for people of notable and heroic stature. because common
people and slaves did not have the ability to lead a heroic or notable life,
they had little-to-no hope of enjoying a blessed state in the hereafter.
Mithraism,
and in more significant ways Christianity, changed all of that; the belief
system they articulated changed this basic paradigm by promising the hope of salvation
to anyone, regardless of gender and class, rank or social class. Through these
religions, common people and outcasts were able to entertain the hope of a
blessed afterlife: if, and only if, they took steps in some formal and
ritualistic way to align themselves with the God of creation, the God of light,
the God goodness, the God of life, which they did through initiation into their
mysteries.
In
the first century BCE, the most important center for Mithraic worship in the
Hellenistic world was in the region of Cilicia, in the city of Tarsus. The
patron deity of Tarsus was the Greek demi-God Perseus…officially, but, as
Ulansey points out: the Greek Perseus, as he was worshipped in Tarsus was
identical to the Persian Mithra in almost every way.
In
his journals, the Roman general Pompey points out the fact that the people of
Tarsus worship Mithra[13]
and this is the point of origin for the spread of the Cult of Mithra (from the
East) into the Roman world.
I
want to preface my discussion of the relationship between Mithra and Perseus
with an acknowledgement of the profuse pluralism at work in the Greco-Roman,
Pan-Hellenic world at this time.
Parallels
to Mithra and Perseus can be found in the stories of many other gods, demi-gods
and heroes, including the Canaanite Ba’al and the Mesopotamian Gilgamesh. It
should also be noted that not all the adventures attributed to one figure should
be attributed to another, they should be reflected on wholistically, as
representing a vast cultural milieu extending from Ireland ( Northwestern Gaul)
to India.
In
the Greco-Roman world the gods and heroes were regarded differently in
different cities, and different regions at different times. The heroes and gods
in Greco-Roman mythology are extremely malleable and blend with one another
quite extensively. However, in Tarsus the parallels between Mithra and Perseus go
deep and they are important, as I will demonstrate:
According to Plutarch, Mithraism began among the pirates of Cilicia, the province bordering on the southern coast of Asia Minor. These pirates, whose ships ‘numbered more than a thousand, and the cities captured by them four hundred,’ and whom Pompey was sent to subdue in 67 BCE, ‘offered strange rites of there own at Olympus, and celebrated there certain secret rites among which those of Mithras continue to the present time having been first instituted by them.’…For our purposes, the most important aspect of Plutarch’s evidence tracing the origins of Mithraism to the region of Cilicia is the fact that Cilicia—and in particular its capitol city of Tarsus—was the home of a deeply rooted cult of the hero Perseus.[14]
Among the Greeks, Perseus was considered to be the founder of the city of Tarsus, a city bearing the name of the “Primal-Bull,” commonly referred to as Taurus (from the zodiac),[15] among the most easily recognizable constellations in the evening sky.
In Tarsus especially, Apollo is often depicted as making oblations before Perseus,[16] just as Sol is depicted kneeling before Mithra. The order is sometimes reversed, with Mithra or Perseus kneeling before the solar-deity,[17] taken together these images express a theme of mutuality and co-extensive identity between the God-hero and hero-God; the two are one.
The evidence for a connection between the figures of Mithras and Perseus is of three kinds: first, there is the astronomical evidence consisting of the fact that the constellation Perseus occupies a position in the sky exactly analogous to that occupied by Mithras in the tauroctony; second, there are a number of striking iconographical and mythological parallels between the two figures, such as Perseus’ Phrygian cap, his connection with Persia, and the fact that like Perseus, Mithras always looks away from his victim; third there is the historical-geographical evidence linking the origins of Mithraism with Cilicia, the site of an important Perseus cult.[18]
This astronomical evidence details the fact that the constellation Mithra/Perseus is located directly above the constellation Taurus, making it so that if the two constellations are viewed together the figure of Mithra/Perseus is seen kneeling on the back of the Bull, sword in hand, ready to make the ritual cut while looking away from the sacrificial victim, just as Mithra is always depicted in the standard trope of sacred art found in Mithraic temples…otherwise known as the Tauroctony
These similarities are too many to ignore.
The
Cults of Mithra and Perseus were the dominant cults in the city of Tarsus. Each
of these Gods are depicted time and time again on Tarsian coins. Perseus is the
patron deity of the city, and the city itself is named after the “Primal Bull”
of Mithraic worship.
In
the city of Tarsus[19],
Mithra is not merely a cognate of Perseus, Mithra is Perseus, as evidenced by the
way in which the two are worshipped, they merely had different cultic centers,
depending on the community of believers which they served. Greeks preferred
Perseus, while Romans and Persians preferred Mithra, the city itself was
cosmopolitan.
Let
me tell you this:
Tarsus
is an old town, it originated as a Hittite city in the second millennium BCE. The
Greek historian and geographer Strabo[20]
notes that by the first century BCE, Tarsus had already become a significant
intellectual center “surpassing Athens and Alexandria.” Tarsus was known for
its astronomers and its schools produced the renowned philosophers Athenodorus
and Nestor.[21]
Tarsus
was also the birthplace and home of Saint Paul, a Hebrew of the diaspora and a
Pharisee who became the apostle to the Gentiles, and arguably the most prominent
writer of the early Christian Church…the most influential Christian of all
time.
There
is no research explicitly stating that Paul was aware of or influenced by
Mithraism, but to suggest that Paul would not have been aware of the basic
tenets of the belief promoted by the major cult of the city he called home, well…that
would be improbable in the extreme.[22]
Paul
was a learned man, he was a figure of authority. Paul was a Pharisee and a
leader in his community. As I have already indicated in my introduction to the
origins of the Pharisaic sect; Pharisees and Mithraites shared many beliefs including
beliefs about the immortality of the soul, the notion of personal salvation and
the ministry of angels. It is fair to say that if Paul was not directly
influenced by Mithraism, at the very least he would have been indirectly
influenced by Mithraic ideas, simply by his proximity to the place from which
they were fervently promulgated.
The
prominence of Paul’s ministry and its influence on Christian doctrine,
constitutes a second infusion of Persian cosmology and eschatology and
soteriological-theology into the Judeo-Christian tradition, the first being
located within the timeframe of the Babylonian exile and the subsequent diaspora,
which we have already discussed.
I
do not contend that through Mithraism anything substantially “new” was imparted
to the burgeoning Christian movement, I merely assert that the prevailing ideas
of the “Persian-Mithraic worldview” were syncretized and concretized by the
early Church in a way which made it compatible with the form of Mithraism that
had been spreading in the Roman Empire…oh, and by the way, Paul was also a free
Roman citizen.
By
the fourth century CE Roman Mithraism had spread broadly, both through the
travel of merchants and via the Roman army, spreading as far North as Hadrian’s
wall in Bremenium, and as far West as Olisipo on the Western coast of Spain; it
had permeated the Roman provinces of North Africa and Egypt, and was thriving
in its homeland of Persia, stretching its influence all the way across the Persian
Empire to India.
At
the time Paul was writing, as much as two percent of the population of the
Roman Empire may have been initiated into the mysteries of the Cult of Mithra.
Note
well, the traditional date to celebrate the birth of Mithra, going back as far
as 750 BCE, is a date that is also significant in the Roman calendar, known as the
Saturnalia. This date is December 25th.
The
25th of December is also the date we celebrate the birth of such
notable people as Julius Caesar, his son by adoption Caesar Augustus, the first
Christian emperor, Constantine, and most famously Jesus of Nazareth.
The
fact that all of these people shared the same birthday does not constitute
proof of anything regarding the relationship between Mithraism and Christianity.
The Romans used a different calendar in those days, and in that time December
25th was the calendar date of the winter solstice. Furthermore, the
solstice is an astronomical event celebrated in nearly every culture in the
Northern hemisphere; marking the point in the yearly cycle when the days get
longer and the deepest dark of winter recedes; it does not merely represent,
but is quite literally the return of the light.
Among
the Romans, the Cult of Mithra was a “mystery religion,” meaning that it was
secretive. Its sacred places were closed to anyone who had not gone through their
rituals of initiation, and like other mystery religions it purported to
disclose to its initiates the mysteries of the universe.
Outside
of Persia and the island of Tarsus, the main adherents of the Cult of Mithra were
members of the Roman army. There is no evidence that Mithraites were ever
persecuted as Christians were by the Romans, however, like a number of other
closed societies in ancient Rome, they had to keep to themselves and guard
their secrets out of concern that they might run afoul of the paranoia that
often gripped the Roman emperors.
All
manner of private groups, trade guilds and burial societies, were periodically
outlawed by one emperor or another, which they did on account of the fact that most
of the emperors were insecure in their power and constantly suspicious of
treason.
The
fact that the Cult of Mithra recruited many of its members from the Roman army
probably spared it from persecution because the emperors always ruled by fragile
alliances and loose coalitions, the most significant of which were always with the
army to whom the emperors were dependent, making it so that if the emperors
were to alienate the Mithraites among the legions, it was virtually guaranteed
that they would be unable to hold onto their rule.
As
I noted earlier, Ulansey saw the secrecy of the cult of Mithra, as practiced in
the Roman Empire, as something distinct from the Persian form of Mithraism. Indeed
there are differences between the two systems of belief, and I will not argue
with what Ulansey has noted, but these differences are not so great as to merit
the claim that the two traditions are completely distinct. Rather, it is likely
that the need for secrecy, prompted by the need for self-preservation, facilitated
the differentiation of Roman Mithraism from its Persian origins, if indeed its
origins were Persian and not Celtic (most likely both).
A
close look at the structure of these religious systems; their icons, rituals
and beliefs will reveal crucial things about their relationship and how close
it was, as well as the close relationship between Mithraism and Christianity.[23]
If
you are familiar with the birth narrative of Jesus then you know that the Magi are
present in Matthew’s version. They are presented as wise men and astronomers,
just as the priests of Mithras and Zoroaster were in actuality. The astronomers
at the university in Tarsus were famous Magi, in Matthew’s Gospel they follow a
star to Bethlehem and arrive as royal persons, to witness the birth of Jesus
and bestow gifts on the lord of light.
Because
the infancy narrative of Matthew is a myth, which is to say that it is not an
accurate retelling of history but rather a composed and tightly controlled
theological statement expressed in metaphor and analogy, this allows us to
conclude that the presence of the Magi in this narrative is not accidental. It
is a purposeful interpolation that is indicative of the sympathetic
relationship between early Christians and Mithraites in the first century CE.
Why
would a sympathetic relationship exist?
Because
both Christians and Mithraites believed in the immortality of the soul, the
reality of personal salvation, the ministry of the angelic host, a God of
goodness, light and life, as well as the expectation of a final battle with the
cosmic forces of darkness, sin and evil.
The
two traditions had a certain-sympatico from the outset of the Christian
movement.
As
we have discussed, in the Roman world, by the first century CE, Mithra had
taken on the aspect of the incarnate son, the only son of Sol Invictus, and in
his exalted state, after the feast he prepared from the flesh of the “Primal Bull,”
Mithra is seen as being identical to Sol.
Mithra
like Christ (as well as Ba’al and Gilgamesh) is seen as the mediator between
Heaven and Earth, responsible for guiding the souls of the elect to paradise. Furthermore,
there are significant iconographic similarities that explain and expand on the
points of sympatico between the two traditions that I have already detailed above.
Ulansey
stated that the worship of Mithra in caves, as it was done among the Romans,
was markedly distinct from the Persian form of worship, stating further that we
cannot explain this distinction as something that occurred by way of a natural
syncretic transformation. However, to dispute Ulansey’s claim, we can easily
identify a path of transformation through the cult of Perseus, the patron deity
of Tarsus. We can delineate this path apart from the social pressures of Roman
culture that I have already articulated.
As
stated earlier: in the iconography of the city of Tarsus, Perseus and Mithra
are one and the same entity.
Perseus
is the son of a human woman named Danae (daughter of Acrissius king of Argos),
and the Titan Zeus, king of the Olympians. The symbolism of their union is
profound; when Zeus impregnates Danae he comes to her as a shower of gold, not
in the form of a human being or any other type of animal (as was often the case
with Zeus); the impregnation of Danae by the ephemeral Zeus in this golden-mist
is a representation of Zeus in the most idealized and spiritual form. The
impregnation of Danae in this manner and the subsequent birth of Perseus, is
the closest thing we read in all the Greek mythologies to a “virgin birth.” It
is a conception narrative analogous to that of Mary, conceiving Jesus by the
Holy Spirit. Perseus’ birth narrative concludes with him being born to Danae in
a cavern, underground, while she herself remains a virgin, never having been
touched by the hands of men.
It
should be noted that in astrology, the figure of Taurus (the Primal Bull) is
the primary symbol of earth. Insofar as Mithra is transformed and exalted
through the death and “new-life” of the Bull, Mithra is re-born of the earth. The
analogy is consistent, the iconographic narrative at work in the births of both
Perseus and Mithra, often depict them as emerging from a rock; therefore, it is
not unreasonable to suppose that the underground worship of Mithra served to
highlight this metaphor.
Symbolically,
the earth is the womb wherein we are nurtured and from which we are born, like
Mithra and like Perseus, it is from the womb of the earth that we are born into
new life.[24]
Practically,
the worship of Mithra in underground caverns had the effect of limiting
Mithraic circles to small groups of people. In army outposts on the fringes of
the Empire, the worship chambers were often very small, consisting of a narrow
room with rows of benches, and not necessarily underground. Among the legions,
the worship of Mithra is thought to have been exclusively male, though some
scholars believe that in some regions, especially urban centers, women had their
own form of Mithraic devotion.
The
size and splendor of Mithraic temples varied with the demographics of the
cities and towns they were located in, from simple to ostentatious. However, it
remains the case that most Mithraic temples or worship chambers were small and
intimate. The intimacy of these temples bears a close similarity to the “house
churches” belonging to early Christians, and many of the Mithraic temples found
in Roman cities, such as Ostia, were converted to Christian worship after the
Emperor Constantine (who himself had been a Mithraite) converted to
Christianity.
Among
the Romans apart from the legions, Mithraism, like Christianity, was centered
in the “house church” or small worship chamber. The practice was carried out
among people who were intimate with one another. The hosts of these worship
spaces would have had status in their community according to the Roman custom
of patrone et cliente (patron and client), in which the patron,
typically a man of substance and means or coming from a family of substance and
means, would provide for any number of people (as many as they could afford),
giving them shelter, clean water, food, etc…in exchange for loyal service and
if they were free citizens with voting privileges…their vote.
Among
Christian communities these patrons became bishops of the church, and like
Christians, the individual practitioners of Mithraism believed that initiation
into the mysteries allowed them to receive personal-immortality through the
agency of Mithra, together with the other members of the Mithraic community.
Mithraism,
like Christianity promoted the notion that its teachings and rites would lead
to the spiritual transformation of the individual, while at the same time
leaving them in the same social position. The transformation of the individual was
interior, taking place in their heart, manifesting itself in their position in
the life of the Mithraic temple or Mithraic shrine as they advanced through the
stages of initiation, but this did not mean that their status or rank outside
of the Mithraic community would change. A slave would remain a slave, a plebian
would remain a plebian. The activities of the cult were closed to the general
society, they were secret and mysterious, and therefore not a cause for
disturbance in the social order, which was important to their survival.
In
Roman Mithraism there were seven stages of initiation: the Crow, the Griffin,
the Soldier, the Lion, the Persian,
the Helio-Dromus (or Sun-Runner), and
finally the Father.[25]
The
Order of Initiates were grouped in two classes; those in the first four stages
counted as one class, and the last three stages counted as another class. An
initiate would move through the stages of initiation until he became “one” with
the Father, in so doing the initiate would become the Father himself in
relation to the community of believers.
At
each stage of initiation, the initiate would learn a secret code that later,
after death, would be used to get him into the heavenly realm appropriate to his
rank. This belief in ranked heavenly planes and secret passwords that allow an
individual through the gates of paradise, was widely believed among
practitioners of the Hebrew Qabalah (also coming out of the Pharisaic sect), as
well as among diverse groups of Christians who had fallen into the heretical
errors generally classified as Gnostic.
Among
the Mithraites the rite of initiation was called a Telete, from the Greek word telos,
meaning goal or end. In the ceremony, the initiate would first kneel before the
Father who would then perform a “laying on of hands,” followed by a rite
similar to baptism, wherein the Father would pour water over the head of the
initiate from the horn of a Bull.[26]
In
cases where the ceremony of initiation was accompanied by an actual animal
sacrifice, the initiate would be splattered with the blood of the sacrificial
animal or slapped in the face with a shank of meat; in other cases the blood rites
would be replaced by wine.
This
rite of blood, wine or water (whatever element was used) was referred to as the
purgation, a ritual cleansing of the individual from the corruption of sin.
Sometimes the ceremony of purgation would be completed by passing a torch over
the head of the individual, or even touching the individual with the torch in
order to symbolize a baptism of both fire and water.
Following
the purgation the initiate would undergo a ritual consecration and coronation,
in which a golden crown was placed on their head; this “solar crown” is iconographically
analogous to the Christian halo that is ubiquitous in early Christian art.. [27]
There
is much in the symbolism of the Mithraic rites that recalls Christian rituals
of initiation, so much that I will not even make an argument for how intimately
linked the two systems are. I will simply let the record speak for itself…it
is the same ritual system.
In
Roman Mithraism, the initiation ceremony would be followed by a feast meant to
symbolize the feast shared by Mithra and Sol. Ideally, the sacred feast would
come from the sacrifice of a Bull, but this was not required. While the
sacrifice of a Bull was central to Mithraic worship, as the cult spread through
the empire and as worship became confined to house churches it is thought the
sacrifice of the Bull was replaced with a symbolic alternative. Any sacrificial
animal could serve for the feast, even a meal of bread and wine could be
sufficient and often was, especially among poor communities.
Such
compromises were theologically sound because the death of the “Primal Bull” was
(as discussed at the beginning of this essay), productive of all “good things”
on Earth; any of those “good things” that come from the Bull were suitable to
be used in the sacred meal, while the meal itself, as stated earlier, much like
the Christian Eucharist, was thought to be an effective means of salvation for
the worshippers of Mithra.[28]
In Conclusion
Among
the Romans, the first Christian emperor was Saint Constantine, otherwise known
as Constantine the Great, who, prior to his death-bed conversion to
Christianity, was also a devotee of Mithras-Sol Invictus.[29]
There
is evidence that Constantine thought that he was himself, an incarnation of Mithra.
This
may seem somewhat confusing considering that it is a matter of historical
record that Constantine attributed his victory over his enemies to Jesus Christ.
It is understood that Constantine’s
famous vision of the Christian symbol, the Chi-Ro (Px), at the battle of the
Milvian bridge (312 CE), enabled his victory when his army was at the gates of
Rome…at least that is what Constatine attributed his victory to in a piece of
naked propaganda aimed at the Christian community there, whose support he
sought to enlist.
However,
in the minds of many practitioners of Mithraism, Jesus and Mithra may have been
considered to have been the same person as well; many believed that Jesus was
an incarnation of Mithra.
If
this is true, it begs the question that:
If
Constantine thought he was Mithra, and if Jesus was also believed to be an
incarnation of Mithra, did Saint Constantine think that he was an incarnation
of Jesus: the Second Coming of Christ?[30]
There
is one thing that I know for certain:
Christianity
and Mithraism, as religious systems and spiritual philosophies are overflowing with
hope; they each present a profound hope for the life of the individual, hope
that the individual will ultimately experience justice, belief that God is good
and that God has given a light to humankind that will guide us along the way to paradise.
Mithraism
was less accessible to the average person than Christianity, which may explain
why it became subsumed into the more progressive movement, which is exactly what
most credible historians who have written on this matter believe to have happened.
The
adherents of Mithraism wanted to keep to their secret ways at a time when
Christianity was opening itself to the world. This happened at a time when Christianity
was defining the terms of its orthodoxy and rooting out groups of heretics like
the Gnostics, whose beliefs mirrored many of the same tenants as those held by Mithraites,
especially those tendencies that fomented secrecy and exclusivism.
The
openness of Christianity was a strength to the burgeoning movement the
ultimately allowed it to prevail in the hearts and minds of the people who in
the main, were only looking for hope.
In the end the secretive and inapproachable mystery-cult
could not compete with a theology that spoke of universal suffrage, one that
transcended not only class and rank and station, but gender and nationalism as
well.
Bibliography
Mithraic
Iconography and Ideology,
by Leroy A. Campbell, published by E. J. Brill, 1968
Mithraic
Studies, edited by
John R. Hinnells, published by Manchester University Press, 1975
Mithraism
in Ostia, edited
by Samuel Laeuchli, published by Northwestern University Press, 1967
The
Mithras Liturgy,
edited and translated by Marvin W. Meyer, published by Scholars Press, 1976
Mysteries
of Mithras, by
Franz Cumont, translated by Thomas J. McCormack, published by The Open Court
Publishing Company, 1903
The
New Jerusalem Bible,
Standard Edition, published by Doubleday, 1989
The
Origins of the Mithraic Mysteries,
by David Ulansey, published by Oxford University Press, 1989
The
New Oxford Companion to the Bible,
edited by Bruce M. Metzger and Michael D. Coogan, published by Oxford
University Press, 1993
The
Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church, edited by F. L. Cross and E. A. Livingstone,
published by Oxford University Press, 1997
[1] By
700 BCE the Royal court of Persia had fully converted to the religion of
Zoroastrianism and its demi-God Mithra.
[2] The
Origins of the Mithraic Mysteries, by David Ulansey, pg. 8, par. 4
[3] Typically a base relief depiction
of Mithra, in the sacred moment of slaughtering the cosmic Bull
[4]
Radical in its time and place
[5]
N.B. Jesus is from Nazareth, which was in Galilee, a Gaelic province in
Palestine long before the Roman era.
[6] Note well: the most significant features they share in
common are the belief in the immortality of the soul and the notion of personal
salvation.
[7] The New Oxford Companion to the Bible, edited by Bruce M. Metzger and Michael D. Coogan, pg.72, par. 3
[8] The
New Jerusalem Bible, standard edition, Doubleday, 2 Chronicles 36: 22-23,
pg. 448, col. 2, par. 2
[9] The
designation Pharisee is derived from the name of the Persian priests of
Zoroaster who were called Parsees (also known as the Magi). This linguistic
transference serves as etymological evidence showing the intimate connection
between Pharisaic Judaism and the religious traditions of the Persian Empire/
[10] The
relationship between Persian Mithraism/Zoroastrianism and Hebrew/Judaism is not
a causal relationship, but a relationship of influence. Judaism does not emerge
from Mithraism, but was profoundly influenced by it.
[11] Note well: the popular belief in the Jewish Qabalah
was also developed through the traditions of the Pharisaic Judaism of the
diaspora.
[12] In
fact, our word “angel,” meaning divine messenger, coming to English, from the
Greek angelos, which is itself derived from the Persian word, angaros, meaning
courier.
[13] The
Origins of the Mithraic Mysteries, by David Ulansey, pg. 40, par. 1
[14] The
Origins of the Mithraic Mysteries, by David Ulansey, pg. 40, par. 1 and pg.
41, par. 3
[15] Note
well: Perseus, like Mithra, is intimately linked to the sun, also known in the
Greco-Roman myths as either: Apollo, Helios or Sol.
[16] In
Greek mythology Perseus is strongly connected with the Persian Empire. The
Greeks believed that Perses, the son of Perseus and Andromeda, was the founder
of the Persian Empire, and Perseus is always depicted as wearing a Phrygian cap
indicating his eastern-asiatic (read Persian) origins.
[17] The
Origins of the Mithraic Mysteries, by David Ulansey, pg. 44, par. 1
[18] The
Origins of the Mithraic Mysteries, by David Ulansey, pg. 45, par. 2
[19] Note
well: the city of Tarsus also figures prominently in the syncretism between
Mithraism and Christianity.
[20] Strabo 64 B.C.E. – 21 C.E.
[21] The
Origins of the Mithraic Mysteries, by David Ulansey, pg. 68
[22]
This is a position taken by many (most) Christian Apologists from
fundamentalists to liberals across all branches and denominations of the
church.
[23]
As I have noted already, in the Persian form of Mithraism (also referred to as
Zoroastrianism), the priests were called Parsees, while outside of Persia they
were known as the Magi, and it is from the Magi that we have derived the term
magic. The Magi are of historical significance to the history of Christianity.
[24] The
Origins of the Mithraic Mysteries, by David Ulansey, pg. 34-36
[25] The
symbolism of the number seven should not be lost on us, as in Christianity,
there are seven sacraments, seven virtues, seven deadly sins etc…
[26] Sometimes
the rite of water would be done through full immersion.
[27]
The literal translation of hal:disk of the sun.
[28] Mithraic
Iconography and Ideology, by Leroy A. Campbell, pgs. 291-305
[29] Note
well: when Saint Constantine was made emperor the first coins struck in his
honor depicted his face with the inscription Sol Invictus.
[30]
Read the annals of Saint Eusebius, Constantine’s biographer in order to answer
this question for yourself. What you find may surprise you.
[31]
The Baths Of Diocletian, Tauroctony c. 298 CE