The Trickster, the Devil, and an Ambiguous World
by Jason GodeskyPleased to meet you—won’t you guess my name? But what’s puzzling you is the nature of my game.
— The Rolling Stones, “Sympathy for the Devil,” Beggars Banquet, 1968
It’s fairly easy to divide stories about Loki into two historical categories: pre-Christianity, and post-Christianity. All the Norse gods show certain evidence of Christian influence, but with Loki the division is fairly striking. Two examples, one from each group, should suffice to illustrate this stark dichotomy.
In the first story, set shortly after the end of the war between the Aesir and the Vanir, the walls of Asgard were in ruins. A frost giant came to the gods, and offered to rebuild the walls for them; he even boasted that he could do it in a single day. The gods laughed at him, and so he made a challenge: if he could rebuild the walls in a single day, he must give them Freyja, goddess of love and beauty, to be his own. The gods laughed and told him, “Yeah, sure, go for it!”
The frost giant went, and came back with an enormous, powerful stallion. The horse dragged even the biggest stones with ease, and by midday, the walls were more than half finished. The gods began to panic, worried they would have to surrender Freyja to the terrible frost giant. Loki, himself a frost giant, merely smirked. “Leave it to me,” he said, and slipped off. The gods paid him no heed, and continued to fret as the walls grew higher.
Then, the gods noticed a beautiful mare emerge from the woods–and obviously in heat. More importantly, the stallion noticed as well. The frost giant went running as fast as he could after the stallion, as he chased the mare into the woods. The gods laughed at their good fortune. At nightfall, the frost giant returned in shame. “Thank you for rebuilding so much of the walls,” the gods laughed, “but you did not finish them! A shame you do not let your stallion out a little more often–he’s an impressive creature, but he obvously has his priorities! You did not finish the walls–Freyja stays!” The giant sulked off, but only then amidst the revelry did any of them notice Loki’s abscence. It was only then that he returned, rubbing his sore behind and walking funny.
Eleven months later, Loki gave birth to an eight-legged horse named Sleipnir, Odin’s steed, and proof that the frost giant could definitely “take one for the team.”
The second story involves Baldr the Beautiful, a young god who seems to come from nowhere but is beloved by all the Aesir and Vanir alike. He is invulnerable to everything–except mistletoe. Loki grows jealous of the attention Baldr recieves, and learns of his vulnerabilty. To display Baldr’s invincibility, Loki begins a revel where everyone throws things at the impervious Baldr. Loki helps the blind Höðr join in the fun by giving him a bow and arrow, and aiming it for him. Höðr lets it fly, and kills Baldr with the mistletoe arrow Loki gave him.
For the death of beloved Baldr, the gods tracked Loki down and caught him with his own recent invention–the fish net, as well as Loki’s children with Sigyn, Narfi and Váli. They transformed Váli into a wolf, who then killed his brother Narfi. Narfi’s guts the gods wove into bonds, to tie Loki to three slabs of stone beneath the earth. A giant snake looms over Loki, dripping venom on his face, but Loki’s faithful wife Sigyn remains there, catching the venom in a cup. But when the cup grows full, she must empty it, and while she does, the venom falls on Loki’s face–and the giant’s writhing causes earthquakes.
Baldr’s death precipitates Ragnarök–the end of the world where the gods and everything good dies, as the world is conquered by giants and plunged into chaos, barbarism and darkness. At that time, Loki will break free and marshall all the giants and all the children of Hel to make war on Asgard, the last war that will bring the twilight of the gods–and in that final battle, Loki and Heimdal will kill each other.
Can you guess which tale is pre-Christian, and which is post-Christian? Baldr was often explicitly compared to Christ; for instance, when C.S. Lewis said he “loved Baldr before Christ.” The first story displays Loki cut in the mold of the Trickster archetype. The Trickster is marvelously ambiguous–he lives by his wits, his morality is ambivalent, and his power is unquestionable. Tricksters are also often culture heroes: Loki invented many things and gave them to humans, such as the fishing net already mentioned.
The second tale, though, has no ambiguity whatsoever. Loki is evil, even diabolical. This follows a common trend for civilized thinking in general: Tricksters are stripped of their ambiguity, and turned into unrelenting, wholly evil characters. The Devil known to us in Judaism and Christianity makes his first Biblical appearance as Satan, or “the Adversary,” perhaps better translated as, “the Prosecution.” Satan is shown in heaven, with G-d, trying to persuade G-d that Job is faithful only because he has not been tested. Satan is not a rebel warring against G-d in the Book of Job–he is more the prosecution in some grand, cosmic trial, wherein G-d is the Judge. Isaiah’s references to Lucifer, the fallen morning star, do not refer to this figure at all, but were only attached to him much, much later.1
The term Beelzebub, for instance, reveals that the Devil may have had an early link to pre-Christian peoples in the Near East. The Philistines are believed to have worshiped “Baalzebubâ€?; the word itself probably derived from an Assyrian word for “adversary in courtâ€? but in the New Testament Christ associated Beelzebub with the Devil (an enemy). Furthermore, the Devil is often depicted as a beast, a hoofed animal with horns and a tail, a sort of goat figure reminiscent of animal tricksters. Interestingly, the phrase “a wolf in sheep’s clothingâ€? that today denotes a devilish, deceitful person rings similar to coyote tricksters and interestingly has roots in the New Testament (Mathew 7:15). Thus, it is likely that as Christianity developed, the concept of the Devil came to be defined more narrowly, becoming one-dimensional, the opposition to goodness. Trickster, on the other hand, is a thoroughly entertaining, often humorous mischief-maker and culture-hero, deceitful but also purveyor of goodness. In his examination of Winnebago Indian trickster mythology, Paul Radin wrote that the “Trickster is at one and the same time creator and destroyer, giver and negator, he who dupes others and who is always duped himself.” Thus unlike Satan, Trickster embodies an ancient duality common among North American Indians and many other indigenous cultures.2
Emphasis added.
So, we have two examples of this process–one that took place so long ago we barely have any evidence at all for the transformation (the Devil), and one that took place more recently, leaving as much evidence for his Trickster status before the transformation, as for his diabolical status afterwards (Loki). Guy Cooper’s “Coyote in Navajo Religion and Cosmology” (The Canadian Journal of Native Studies VII, 2 (1987):181-193; PDF) provides a third example, where the process is near-contemporary. Coyote is one of the most important and powerful Trickster figures ever noted. Coyote emerged from the primordial medicine bundle with First Man and First Woman, as one of the original agents of creation. He became a Holy Person, and is one of the most popular figures in Navajo stories.
In this light, it is important, therefore, that the historical context of Navajo culture is included in any assessment of Coyote. The picture derived from the Origin myths and the Trickster tales is of an ancient deity, existing from the beginning and, as such, exhibits the general characteristics of the Culture Hero-Trickster, although, as there is no single creator figure in Navajo cosmology, Coyote interacts with a number of creator figures. Since the Navajo are known to have migrated from their main cultural grouping in the subarctic, their religion has obviously undergone change (Cooper, 1984). Among the Athapascans of the North, Raven is the Trickster-Culture Hero and this fact emerges obliquely in Navajo culture, as Raven (or Crow, the Navajo do not distinguish the two) is linked with Coyote in Myth and there is an obsolescent ceremonial—Ravenway—which Navajos believe is linked to Coyoteway. Raven and Coyotes are also observed in association in nature. Raven emerges, in the form of Crow and Black God, as Master of Animals in hunting myth, a position denied to Coyote who of course is a predator. Raven has been superceded by Coyote at some stage in Navajo history. Coyote in myths attains the position of Holy Person, with his own offerings and this is consolidated in Coyoteway, the ceremonial to restore harmonious relationships between humans and Coyote. As a predator he is associated with hunting. Hunting is, after all, a form of trickery requiring cunning, and there is no better survivor in nature than coyote. In fact, the paradigm provided by coyote as an animal is ideally suited to the status as Trickster figure.
The pressure of European contact transformed Navajo society, and in so doing, transformed their Trickster god, Coyote:
The reformulation of Navajo religion—in particular the adoption of Emergence mythology and cosmology, the structuring of the Chantway system—occured under Pueblo influence following the Pueblo Revolt in the late 17th Century. Warfare adopted many of the techniques associated with hunting, which declined in importance with the adoption of the agriculturalist and pastoralist economy. Both hunting and warfare became associated with witchcraft, particularly following the trauma of incarceration in Fort Summer between 1864-1868, caused by the suppression of widespread Navajo raiding, and Emergence cosmology and mythology is dominated by anthropomorphic deities who supercede the animal gods so important in hunting and shamanism. It is not therefore surprising that Coyote, whose power is associated with hunting and warfare, thus became also associated with witchcraft. The transformation abilities of Coyote, both to change his appearance and to throw his skin onto others, are closely identified with the werewolf syndrome, which forms an important part of Navajo witchcraft beliefs. Werewolves are believed to paint their faces in a similar way to Coyote, or First Scolder. Prayers to Coyote are believed to make you rich. Such a view could stem from the period when prayers to Coyote lent aid in hunting, warfare and its correlates, gambling and love. Nowadays however, one who is very wealthy is likely to be regarded as deriving their success from witchcraft practices. Coyote was associated already with witchcraft through his connection with First Man and First Woman, from whom, according to Navajo belief, witchcraft originated. This also provides Coyote’s association with death, since the dead return to the underworld, from whence came First Man’s group. Coyote originated death, feeds on carrion and often dies in myth and, as a sign of ill omen, can signify to the Navajo the imminence of evil or death. Furthermore, the transition from hunting to agriculture meant that coyotes, hither-to fellow predators of the hunt, now become a threat to the economythrough attacks on lambs.
In contemporary Navajo culture, “Coyote” has even become an insult.
The ambiguous gender of Tricksters is also worthy of note here. In the story related above, Loki changes gender to seduce the mare, and gives birth to a calf. Nadleeh, the Navajo version of the two-spirited berdache, was an important figure in the creation story like First Man, First Woman and Coyote. Such people were believed to have two spirits, a fact that made them powerful shamans. Almost exactly a year ago:
Gay and lesbian citizens of the Navajo Nation almost faced a serious setback last month when the tribal council unanimously voted to outlaw same-sex marriage. To anyone who’s familiar with traditional Navajo culture, the very idea seems absurd. These are the people who honored the nadleeh—the man with two spirits, one masculine, one feminine. Whenever such a man was born in a Navajo community, he would be permitted to dress like, act like, and perform the duties of a woman. He could even marry another man, and the community considered that to be equivalent to any heterosexual marriage. However, in recent years, the traditional Navajo point of view on homosexuality has been so devastated by western influence that… well, that we now have Navajos trying to ban same-sex marriage.3
It is the ambivalence of the Trickster that civilized folk find so threatening. Shamanism is a hunter’s religion. It is very much grounded in the understanding that life and death exist in balance, that the world is ambivalent and ambiguous. Shamans exist to try to mediate that ambivalence and ambiguity. The Trickster sums up that enormous swath of existence as an archetypal personification of everything that is uncertain, nuanced, and equivocal.
Civilization can be understood at its base as an attempt to cheat that–to paint the world as black and white, and then to increase the white forever, and eliminate the black. Jung wrote of the effect this has on the individual psyche, and often remarked that it may produce the same for a society as a whole. Existence is defined primarily by balance, and just as a brighter light produces a darker shadow, a stronger Ego only produces a stronger Shadow. Jung suggested that the Devil is the archetype of the cosmic Shadow, and the progression from Trickster to Devil is enlightening in this regard: in our attempt to eliminate everything bad, what we do instead is to polarize the Trickster, the ambiguous, ambivalent guardian of cosmic balance, turning it into a diabolical power determined to balance our refusal to acknowledge the realities of existence. The prosecution takes to hell to balance our dreams of heaven; Coyote takes up witchcraft to tear down the unbalanced world we make; Loki schemes of gathering all the monsters and giants to march on Asgard and shatter the Rainbow Bridge forever. In our desire to make the world all good, all the time, we fall into a trap the Trickster should have taught us to avoid: what we do is create an equal and opposite, compensatory evil that waits for its chance to wreak its vengeance. The Devil, the evil Loki, and the Coyote witch are all spiritual, mythological embodiments of the compensation civilization creates: collapse.
Tricksters test the boundaries of society, and establish what is acceptable and what is not by their experiments and exploration. They affirm society’s norms by breaking them. The ambiguity of that is something that a hierarchical society cannot tolerate. Civilization cannot tolerate myths that glamorize those who disregard power and hierarchy. Yet, the Trickster is archetypal, a powerful part of the human experience that cannot be denied. Robin Hood, Brer Rabbit–even Bugs Bunny–emerge no matter how much we try to stop them. The most powerful Tricksters, as seen above, must be demonized. Lesser Tricksters can be co-opted. Robin Hood can fight the “bad” King John, but only for the “good” King Richard. Bugs Bunny can punch Hitler for the U.S. of A.
Ultimately, civilization is a ruinous experiment in simplifying the world through complexity. Hierarchy tries to simplify the vast complexity of human relationships, and the civilized mind tries to reduce the ambiguous domain of the Trickster to a Zoroastrian struggle between “good” and “evil.” As we push towards “good,” we merely pushed the Trickster further into “evil” to compensate. In the end, life will always be about balancing good and bad. A “good” person is just as unbalanced as a “bad” one, and it is balance that we need to pursue more than anything else.
Ultimately, that’s exactly what the Trickster has been trying to tell us from the start.
[…]
You know, I didn’t even realize I posted this on 06-06-06. Jung might call it “synchronicity.” I call it “dumb luck.”
Comment by Jason Godesky — 6 June 2006 @ 4:29 PM
Hey –
Nice Jason.
I’ve ‘known’ Loki since high school… but somehow was always unwilling to look at it, at all critically… so I managed to not really understand what I ‘knew’.
Always nice when another piece slips into place
Janene
Comment by Janene — 6 June 2006 @ 5:34 PM
A quick note on berdache in another culture (the Southern California Tongva)…
“THE FOUR ROADS TO TONGVA SPIRITUAL LIFE
..PRIDE.. ..RESPECT.. ..HONOR.. ..DIGNITY..
THE TONGVA
THE WEHEY PET
&
THE ‘AHKHI
The Role of Sexual Difference
Among the Indigenous People
of the Los Angeles Basin
A special group that could come from any of the Tongva social classes was the group of “Wehey Pet�, the two road people. Tongva society did not deny social engagement and involvement with those whose ssexual orientation was different. Instead, those whose sexual orientation was different performed major functions, often becoming shamans, storytellers, teachers, medicine keepers, and visionaries.
Some (the ‘Ahkhi) cross dressed and took on the “rolesâ€? of women; they were greatly valued by the eltie class and the chiefs. The Wehey Pet, who did not cross dress but who often crossed role designations, were responsible for the naming of children, the preparations for the burial of the dead and the insuring that rituals and ceremonies followed the proper protocol.
In 1769, Pedro Fages, a Spanish soldier, accompanied the De Anza expedition that traveled through California on its way to Montererry. He made special note of a special group of men who by their profession permitted the “heathenâ€? to engage in sexual activity that scandalized the Puritanical Spaniards. He also states that the Indians were “…addicted to this… viceâ€?. He is, however, most disturbed by the fact that these men were “…held in great esteem.â€?
We must also remember that this acceptance of sexual differences was found throughout most of the Americas. In Mexico and Guatemala, thousands of such men and women were burned to death by the Spaniards with Church blessign and permission. The same practice was followed in California. Both Wehey Pet and ‘Ahkji were specifically singled out for extermination by Church and State. The indigenous spiritual belief system of the Tongva was held in ridicule and hundreds of mend and women were tortured and murdered in order to “purify and bring civilizationâ€? to the “savagesâ€?.
Excerpt from Journey to Tovangar by Mark F. Acuňa”
Comment by Bill Maxwell — 6 June 2006 @ 6:30 PM
“Nobody expects the Spanish inquisition”
Those people where burnded by the Spanish inquisition, with permission of the king.
I, as a Mexican r aised pope-following catholic, believe the reason most Mexicans, something like 99%, are Christians is because of the wonders these inquisitors did killing every religous dissident. And people of other sexual orientations.
Comment by Anonymous — 7 June 2006 @ 10:51 AM
There’s more to it than just that. The Inquisition wasn’t about asserting religious orthodoxy nearly so much as asserting political control through religious orthodoxy. The other reason that 89% of the Mexican population is Roman Catholic (not 99%–6% are Protestant, and the remaining 5% are divided amongst everything else) is that the tolerated a certain amount of syncretism. You could keep nearly all your old beliefs and customs, so long as you changed some of the names a little bit, paid your proper taxes and tithes, and submitted to the authority of Rome and the State. It was never about religion–religion was only a means to the end of hierarchical dominion. No one dies for religion.
Comment by Jason Godesky — 7 June 2006 @ 11:01 AM
Nice Jason, very nice.
Growing up in this culture, I learned to fear the trickster (heck, Hotel California scared me when I was a kid, I was sure the devil was in it somewhere). Outgrowing Christianity helped a lot… and finding access to the original stories is such a blessing. Interesting that when I was surfing around a few years ago, looking for runic/mythic stories from that tradition (Loki and friends) I found some folks getting heavily into Loki as evil. A lot of dark stuff surrounding him. What interested me originally, was this trickster nature, but what I found there shoo-ed me off. I’m all in favor of reclaiming. Thanks for this step.
Comment by neighbor — 7 June 2006 @ 12:30 PM
Loki is also one of the coolest Marvel villains.
Comment by Mike Godesky — 7 June 2006 @ 12:44 PM
Interesting Fifth World note…
Odin = Shaman
Thor = Brave
Loki = Scout
Comment by Jason Godesky — 7 June 2006 @ 12:50 PM
If you choose to be Thor, do you get a hammer, and a human allias as a Doctor?
Comment by Bubba — 7 June 2006 @ 1:15 PM
It’s not quite so slavish.
Comment by Jason Godesky — 7 June 2006 @ 1:25 PM
Doesn’t that place Mother Culture within the context of being one big Trickster?
I really enjoy reading articles like these!
Comment by tony — 7 June 2006 @ 4:41 PM
Hey –
Ohhh… stop it Tony!
Not everything is MC… and I kinda think that soem indigenous cultures might be a little over-wrought with you if you explained what the hell you were saying… after all, everyone HAS thier own MC, its only our own that is so dangerous.
Now to pretend you were being serious… MC certainly does not undermine herself by casting doubt on her own teachings through honest questioning, breaking the rules or exploring alternate possibilities. After all, ’she’ is ‘designed’ to prevent us from doing just those things.
Janene
Comment by Janene — 7 June 2006 @ 4:57 PM
A culture cannot test its own boundaries.
Comment by Jason Godesky — 7 June 2006 @ 7:37 PM
I disagree. I’d say that MC undermines itself a lot through breaking the rules. I mean, how many of their characters have to come back from the dead before… oh wait. You mean MC, Mother Culture. Not MC, Marvel Comics.
Well… Loki still kicks ass.
Comment by Mike Godesky — 7 June 2006 @ 10:13 PM
“Thief” is brought back from the dead by Raven i 8-bit Theater in “Of Tricksters & Thieves” and “Trickery, Trickery, Trickery”
Raven: “That’s funny. Most people don’t like the idea of being stuck in their own personal hell.”
Thief: “Oh, come on. I’m supposed to believe what a god of trickery says? In what possible way could infinite wealth be anything but my idea of bliss?”
Raven: “That’s just it. There’s nothing left to steal.”
Bricks (1 ton)
Raven: “Oh, you didn’t seriously think you’d end up anywhere else, did you?”
Thief: “You’ve got to get me out of here.”
Raven: “Don’t worry, don’t worry. I took this case for a reason.”
Thief: “I’ll do anything!”
Raven: “That was the reason.”
With a later cameo in “Interdimensional intrigue!:
Raven: “You told them to get a what?”
Bahamut*: “A rat tail. A dire rat’s tail.”
Raven: “Oh, that’s good.”
Bahamut: “Thank you. Do you think he’ll see it coming?”
Raven: “Not a chance.”
* The god-king of the dragons, naturally. He’s a dragon, and a king, and a god.
Comment by Jason Godesky — 8 June 2006 @ 1:49 PM
Talk about synchronicity / dumb luck, who knew that June’s God of the Month was the Trickster?
http://community-2.webtv.net/magentashadow/GOMC/
(via http://singlenesia.com/news/)
Comment by rich — 8 June 2006 @ 1:58 PM
Great article, plucky banter, and respect for MC (Marvel Comics - not Mother Culture). What more could a guy ask for? Very good stuff, very good indeed. Keep up the good work.
Comment by Modred — 8 June 2006 @ 10:44 PM
The other beautiful subtle note about Loki and the building of the Wall of Asgard -
Loki’s “help” to stop the Frost Giant from finishing the wall in time also created the weak gap which, at the ending of the world, all the monsters of the world come rushing through, with Loki leading from the front.
Sounds like a set up. And it also sounds like some ancient storyteller understood the inherent unsustainability of the new gods, the Taker way, and civilization. Trying to trick the nature giants? Good luck.
Comment by Willem — 10 June 2006 @ 2:10 AM
Thought some of you might find this interesting…
Utgard: The Role of the Jotnar in the Religion of the North
by Diana Paxson
Anyone who has ever picked up a book on Norse mythology knows about the conflict between the gods and the giants. It is pictured as an endless dualistic struggle between the forces of order and chaos, or good and evil, which will culminate in the epic struggle of Ragnarok. And yet, despite the gusto with which Thor bashes etins, the old literature leaves one with a curiously ambiguous picture. Ancient and terrible the Jotnar may be, but are they simply destructive, or does the conflict between them and the lords of Asgard have a deeper significance?
As I explore the spiritual ecology of the North I have come to believe that far from being the eternal enemy, the Jotnar may have a crucial role to play in the survival of the world and its inhabitants, including human beings. An analysis of their origins and functions not only illuminates their relationship to the gods (and therefore the meaning of the Æsir as well), but suggests a new way to interpret some of the ambiguities encountered in Norse attitudes towards the feminine and the natural world.
The mythologies of other early cultures reveal a pattern which may be paralleled in that of the North. Bearing in mind that traditional cultures do not have a single, canonical, “creation myth”, still, almost everywhere we find a first generation of deities who are responsible for the creation of the world and who are later supplanted by their children, the pantheon whose worship becomes the religion of the land.
The Graeco-Roman creation myth tells how Gaia, Mother Earth, arose from the empty “yawning” of Chaos and conceived the Titanic powers by Ouranos, who suppressed them before they could be born into the world. The last of them, Kronos, attacked and emasculated his father, separating him from the earth. The Titans who were then released were powers of the sun and moon, darkness and the dawn. Monsters of various kinds were also created. Kronos (Time) married his sister Rhea (Space) and they became the parents of the Olympian gods. Eventually the gods, aided by monstrous allies and the counsel of Mother Earth, defeated and imprisoned the Titans in Tartaros. Nonetheless, the time when Kronos and the Titans ruled was considered by the Greeks to have been a golden age.
Despite the theological sophistication of Hinduism, traces remain of a pre-Vedic system in which “The gods and the antigods are the twofold offspring of the lord-of-progeny (Prajapati). Of these the gods are the younger, the antigods, the older. They have been struggling with each other for the dominion of the worlds.” (Brhad-aranyaka Upanishad 1.3.1.[205]). These antigods are sometimes called asuras (later construed as a-suras, or “not-gods”), although this term, derived from the root as, “to be”, or Asu, “breath”, was originally used to identify the most important gods. Although the asuras are seen as opponents, many among them are described as wise and benficent and aid the gods. Among the asuras the Mahabharata includes daityas (genii), danavas (giants), kalakanjas (stellar spirits), kalejas (demons of time), nagas (serpents), and raksasas (night wanderers, or demons) They live in palaces in mountain caves, the bowels of the earth, the sea, and the sky and are said to be powerful in battle and magic.
In Egyptian religion, the oldest company of gods seems to have represented properties of primeval matter. According to E.A. Wallace Budge, “in primeval times at least the Egyptians believed in the existence of a deep and boundless watery mass out of which had come into being the heavens, and the earth, and everything that is in them.” (The Gods of the Egyptians, I: 283). These powers were represented by four pairs of gods and goddesses. The world as we know it was created by the action of the Khepera aspect of the sun-god, who says in the Book of the Overthrowing of Apepi,
“Heaven did not exist, and earth had not come into being, and the things of the earth and creeping things had not come into existence in that place, and I raised them from out of Nu from a state of inactivity.” (295)
This bears a remarkable resemblance to the opening of “Voluspá” –
In earliest times did Ymir live:
was nor sea nor land nor salty waves,
neither earth was there, nor upper heaven,
but a gaping nothing, and green things nowhere…
Was the land then lifted by the sons of Bor,
who made Midgard, the matchless earth…
(verses 3-4 - Hollander’s translation)
Unless one is prepared to believe that the author of the Edda read hieroglyphics, one must accept this idea as a way of conceptualizing creation common to many early peoples. The “inactivity” of Nu is a reasonable southern parallel to the eternal ice that encased Ymir. In both cases, the earth we know is “lifted” into a state of manifestation by the action of a more clearly personified power. In the Younger Edda, we learn that the world was fashioned from Ymir’s skull and bones, freed from the ice by the tongue of Audhumla, the primal female principle in the form of a cow.
In all of these mythologies, the elder gods are the world creators and elemental powers. Myths about them have to do with their origins and their battles against the race of gods who supplanted them. They may be portrayed as monstrous or fair, but always they dwell in wild places– “Utgard”– or in the element to which they belong. Although they are the opponents of the gods, they do not appear to be hostile to men. In fact they have very little to do with human concerns.
A number of theories have been offered to account for this cosmic struggle. A hypothesis adopted by many scholars has been that the elder deities, such as the asuras, were the gods of races conquered by the people who worship the gods. The asuras were the gods of pre-Vedic India, and presumably the Jotnar and Titans would be the deities of the pre-Indo-European peoples of their lands. However this theory does not explain why gods and giants should differ in function.
Although some of the Jotnar are allies of the Æsir– Ægir, for instance, who brews ale in his cauldrons so that the gods can feast in his undersea hall, or Vafthruthnir, who teaches Odin wisdom– their functions clearly have to do with natural forces. Æir is a god of the ocean; his wife, Ran, rules the depths beneath the waves, who are their daughters. However it is the Van, Njordh, who watches over ships and those who make their living on the sea. Fjorgyn is Earth, but Freyr and Freyja, the alfar and ármadhr, “harvest man” are invoked to aid in farming. It is not the gods who are the personified natural forces beloved of 19th century folklorists, but the Jotnar.
The gods, be they Æsir or Olympians, can be seen as the product of evolving human consciousness. Odin, first of the Æsir to arise, gives us the runes, the symbols and words of power by which the human intellect is enabled to comprehend the world. The Jotun expresses the natural power, while the god embodies the qualities needed for humans to deal with it. In the myths, the Æsir are able to interbreed with Jotnar or humankind. The stories of interaction between the gods and the giants can almost serve as a chronicle of the changing relationship between evolving human consciousness and the natural world.
Of all the Æsir, Thor, the thunderer and great slayer of giants, is the most elemental. He is the Son of Earth, and his rune is that of the thurs. He joys in the chaos of the storm, but he can use its energy to protect humankind. But his is not a war of extermination. In “The Lay of Hárbarth,” Thor tells us, “much might had the etins if all did live; little might had men then in Midgard’s round.”(23). As Gro Steinsland points out (1986), this is not a war of extermination, but of balance.
For a long time it was assumed that one distinction between Jotnar and Æsir was that the giants were never worshipped. However Steinsland has demonstrated that the giants, or more particularly the giantesses, did indeed receive cult worship in the Viking Age. She proposes that Snorri’s account of how the gods gave part of the roasting ox to Thiazi while traveling to visit Utgard-Loki reflects an ancient ritual in which offerings were made to the wilderness powers. Skadi’s reply to Loki’s taunts in “Lokasenna” refers to her holy groves and hallowed shrines, a boast supported by many place names, and she is not only the daughter of a giant, but the home she inherited from him is located in Asgard. However for the most part, the hallows of the Jotnar are to be found in Utgard– “outside the garth”– in the wilderness beyond the fields we know.
The Jotnar are elemental in character and force, associated with the regions or environments in which they live (cliff-thurses, berg risi, or mountain giants or trolls, rime-thurses, sons of Surtr, Æir, Ran and the waves, etc.) They rule the realm of Nature, and can thus be viewed as chieftains of the orders of nature spirits appropriate to various environments: the skogsrar, or “wood-roes”, of the forest, who can bestow blessings in exchange for offerings; the näckar, or “nixies”, sjöra, lake spirits, and forskarlar, the falls-men, in the water; the duergar (dwarves) who live under the earth, and the landvættir, or land-wights, for a region in general. These are what the people at Findhorn in Scotland call the devas, the spirits which inhabit and give health to the environment, ranging from entitities that express the spirit of a place or a group or species of living things (such as a forest), to the spirits of individual flowers and trees. Even during the Christian period they survived in Færie, in which noble races of elves are accompanied by all kinds of sprites and goblins. In medieval folklore, the Jotnar devolved into hags, giants and trolls, and their attendant nature spirits into dwarves, dryads and the like, but they continue to dwell outside the boundaries of the human world.
But not all of the Jotnar live in the wilderness. Giantesses are co-opted into the world of the gods as mothers and mates; in fact a majority of the Æsir are the children of Jotnar on one or both sides. Indeed, when an As or Van seeks a bride outside Asgard, his only source of mates is in Jotunheim. Scratch a goddess, and you are likely to uncover an etin-bride. The courtships of Skadi and Gerd are particularly noteworthy, and it is significant that they are married to Vanir, the gods most closely connected with the natural world. Odin himself sires children by a number of giantesses, most notably Jordh, or earth, the mother of Thor, and Rind, who bears him Vali. On the other hand, those female Jotun who are not co-opted by marriage appear to be more feared by the Æsir than are the males.
The male Jotnar slain by Thor are viewed as worthy antagonists who can sometimes be tricked into sharing their wisdom or powers. But the females, even Hyrokkin, whose strength is required to push Baldr’s funeral ship out to sea, evoke a primal terror. They are not only wild, but female, with all of the suppressed power of both the feminine and the wilderness. In his analysis of prayers to Thor, John Lindow identifies eight killings of female Jotnar and four of male.
Thor was the defender of Asgard, as Thorbjorn himself put it, against the forces of evil and chaos. These forces seem, in the reality of peoples’ lives… to have had a very strong female component… If those who fight for order are male, then it is appropriate that those who fight for disorder should be female.
(Lindow, 1988, p. 127)
At this point a good feminist should say, “how like a man”, but I think that the causes of this hostility lie deeper than simple misogyny. Norse culture in general approaches the feminine with a mixture of emotions, seeing it as irrational and equating loss of status with loss of control while at the same time retaining the memory of a long tradition of reverence for women and belief in their superior spiritual powers. This attitude is paralleled by equally ambivalent feelings about the world of nature. Is it therefore surprising that the Jotnar– the primal powers of nature– who are most feared should be personified as female?
Female biology makes it harder for women to suppress awareness of their physical nature in the way that men often do, and though women are less likely to seek battle, a woman once enraged may fight with a fury that ignores the rules by which men like to conduct their wars (certainly some of the women in the sagas are first class bitches, and the men might have been better off if their wives had been allowed to fight the bloodfeuds). These generalizations reflect the social stereotypes of our culture; in reality there is a considerable overlap between the genders in this regard, and intellect, intuition, and the like are uniquely mixed in each individual. Given this caveat, such social and biological factors may explain why men have tended to link the feminine with Nature, which can be both terrible and nurturing, as well as with the irrational, the unconscious, and spiritual power.
Steinsland makes a good case for the survival of rituals addressed to the Jotnar into the Viking Age. Rather than identifying this as a lingering superstition, let us consider what function retaining a reverence for powers first conceptualized at the birth of human culture might serve in a supposedly more “civilized” age. The scholars who look upon myths of the passage of power from Jotnar or Titans to the shining gods as a reflection of a historical process may be seeing only part of the picture. A more accurate way to describe the change might be as evolutionary. Evolution does imply change over time, but this change can consist of alteration within a continuing group as well as the replacement of one culture or species by another.
The human brain is an excellent example of an organism which has developed by adding new structures and functions to older ones. Most people today have access only to the newer levels of consciousness, and are disturbed by the “irrational” emotions that shake them when the older parts of the brain are aroused. In the same way, our civilization thinks of itself as “modern”, and has trouble understanding the social movements that arise when deeper needs revive older ways.
A major paradigm shift in our relationship to Nature is taking place in this century– a change that must occur if humanity is to survive. Ours is the first generation to be aware of the fragility of the environment. “Primitive” people retain an instinctive awareness that the only way to survive in an environment that is more powerful than they are is by learning to live in harmony with its forces. But as civilization and the development of technology have given humans more control over their surroundings, Nature has become an adversary. In the natural world, birth and death, creation and destruction, are parts of a continuing cycle in which both are equally crucial to long-term survival. Modern man can accept this in theory so long as he remains insulated from its realities by his technology, but especially in the ancient North, where the climate is unforgiving, it is understandable that in the Viking Age the world outside the walls of the garth should have often been seen as something to fear.
And yet, as Kirsten Hastrup shows in Culture and History in Medieval Iceland, access to the actual or psychic wilderness was necessary for magic. The outlaw, or “out-lier” is banished outside the boundaries of the community, and yet that position may enable him to serve it in ways impossible for those who stay safe within walls.
In the cases of both hamrammr and berserkr there is a movement, in body on the one hand, in personality on the other. Such movement seems to have been easily imagined, in a world where every man had his fylgja, his double in wild space.
(Hastrup, 1985, 153)
The tension is not only between order and chaos, but between control and power. This is why Thor never kills all of the giants, why the ̠sir seek Jotun-brides, why Odin goes to Vafthruthnir to seek wisdomРand why worship at the shrines of Skadi and other Jotun continued into the Viking Age. From wilderness comes the energy that humans, like other species, need to survive.
What will happen if humans forget how to balance this energy? Ragnarok acquires a different meaning in each age. The “Voluspá” foretells a simultaneous breakdown in the natural balance and the social order. Odin marshals the Einherjar and the gods march out for the last time to meet their foes. When all is destroyed,
‘Neath sea the land sinketh, the sun dimmeth,
from the heavens fall the fair bright stars;
gusheth forth steam and gutting fire,
to very heaven soar the hurtling flames.” (56)
The order of creation described in the early myths is being reversed. The world will return to its primal elements once more.
For the ancient Norse, the fear was that natural forces would grow too powerful. But science shows us that it is equally dangerous to suppress a powerful force too far or too long. The film Koyaanisqatski presented a frightening picture of a world out of balance. Whether the Jotnar are allowed to rage unchecked or suppressed too completely, disaster will follow. Today’s vision of Ragnarok is of an age when natural cycles have been pushed so far out of balance that only the most chaotic and destructive of the powers of nature will remain.
Can this disaster be avoided? Early cultures, living in a world in which the seasonal alternation of birth and death was more accepted than it is today, tend to think in terms of cycles rather than of a linear progression. But though the Völva foresees destruction for the gods, the victory of chaos is not final–
“I see green again– with growing things,
the earth arise from out of the sea…
again the Æsir on Itha Plain meet…
again go over the great world-doom,
and Fimbultyr’s unfathomed runes.” (59)
The process of creation is repeated, and once more Odin’s runes give meaning to the world.
In a world of vanishing rainforests and global warming, it may seem that the Time of Earth Changes foretold by more recent prophets such as Sun Bear is unavoidable. In the long run this is probably true, for why should either a physical body or the world be expected to last for ever? For the world, as for us, death should be viewed not as an extinction but as a transformation so that the cycle can begin anew. Still, just as abuse of one’s body can shorten, or healthy living extend. a human lifespan, humans have the power to hasten Ragnarok or to lengthen this age of the world. With that power comes responsibility.
Environmentalists have provided us with more than enough information to start work on the physical plane, and there should be no need to repeat their instructions here. But those of us who follow the Way of the North have an additional opportunity. We are already vowed to stand with the gods– what we must do now is to understand their relationship to the Jotnar so that we do not end up sabotaging our own side.
We need the giants as we need the wilderness, as a source of the nourishment required for our physical and spiritual survival. They provide psychological stability by aligning the powers of nature and protection at the species level, for they are the spiritual ancestors of all living things. Even apparent chaos may hold a hidden harmony. This does not mean abandoning intellect and technology and returning to the primitive, but as we use the gifts of the gods, we should remember that even Thor does not attempt to completely exterminate his enemies. These days perhaps we ought to be supporting the Jotnar rather than fighting them.
Jotun myths have to do with creation and cosmic patterning. In recreating the myths we recreate the world. Along with the land-spirits, they should therefore receive offerings and honor. When we seek to work in trance, to draw on the deepest powers that lie hid in our own inner Utgards, the Jotnar may even be invoked first in the ritual.
Like other forms of paganism, the Northern branch of the Old Religion is an Earth-religion. As Steinsland puts it, “After all, it would be more remarkable if Norse tradition should miss any ritual dealing with powers on whom the whole of existence finally depended. The giants are as necessary to the world as the gods are.” (ibid, p. 221). In recreating the practice of Norse religion, we must not forget to honor those powers.
References
E. A. Wallace Budge, The Gods of the Egyptians, I, N.Y.: Dover Press, 1969
Alain Daniélou, The Gods of India, N.Y.: Inner Traditions International, 1985
Kirsten Hastrup, Culture and History in Medieval Iceland, Oxford, 1985
C. Kerényi, The Gods of the Greeks, N.Y.: Thames & Hudson, 1951
John Lindow, “Addressing Thor”, Scandinavian Studies 60, 1988: 119-136
The Poetic Edda, trans. Lee M. Hollander, Austin, University of Texas Press, 1986
Gro Steinsland, “Giants as Recipients of Cult in the Viking Age?” in Words and Objects: towards a dialogue between archaeology and history of religion (Norwegian University Press/ Institute for Comparative Research in Human Culture, 1986.
Comment by dreaming mountain — 12 June 2006 @ 8:17 PM
And I must apologize as I don’t have an author to site on the following snippet…I’ve been researchign pre-Chrstian Germanic and Old Ways European culture for the past several years as I explore my own heritage…I had this quote in a file on the giants of Germanic myth.
“Jötnar have been viewed as objects of cultic worship; as ancestors and primeval spirits; as the gods of a pre-Germanic population; as the powers of wintertime; and as forces of untamed nature, of death and infertility, and of chaos and destruction. It has also been argued that the giants continually try to steal the goddesses and symbols of order such as the sun and moon not because they are essentially disorderly, but because they have no opportunity for reciprocal exchange with the gods. Conversely, the Æsir practice violence, theft, deception, and oath breaking to gain what they want from giants, but their actions are depicted as justified. As time passed, the negative side of the giants became predominant in the mythology. A differentiation of the various types of giants was apparent in heathen times (jötunn is the generic term, whereas as þurs and troll designate malevolent giants), but the sources, which date from the late heathen or early Christian era, probably also reflect the Christian demonization of pagan mythological figures. Overall, Scandinavian mythology shows that the giants are not an external threat but are ineradicably part of divine society, both as mothers and monsters.”
Comment by dreaming mountain — 12 June 2006 @ 8:23 PM
I think Jungian archetypes are also of vital importance here. The wilderness is the source of power, but it is also unknown and terrifying; as such, it is the archetype of the unconscious mind. The gods represent consciousness, and our attempts to tame and master our own microcosm.
Comment by Jason Godesky — 12 June 2006 @ 8:44 PM
I agree with you…but its difficult because to the pre-Christian Germanic folk the gods and goddesses they held dear were as real to them as the soil they farmed and the forests that surrounded them. I think that modern archetypal interpretatiaons fail to honor that fact.
Comment by dreaming mountain — 12 June 2006 @ 9:15 PM
Oh, I disagree. Yes, they were as real to them as our myths about Jesus and such are real to us. That’s why Campbell urges people to study other people’s mythology, regardless of who “other people” might be. But more importantly, if you think that’s a dishonor, then I don’t think you understand what an archetype really is, because they’re just as real as the soil and the wind, too. It’s a much abused term, but in its reality, it is something real, powerful, and profoundly sacred.
Comment by Jason Godesky — 12 June 2006 @ 9:23 PM
Jason: “Oh, I disagree. Yes, they were as real to them as our myths about Jesus and such are real to us.”
dm: Who is “us”, though? The myth of Jesus is about as real to me as the concept of a free market economy, however to a devout Christian who believes he or she has had a “personal encounter with Christ” I have no doubt that his existence is as real as rain falling from the sky.
For modern industrial humans, understanding of pre-modern myth, as pre-modern peoples themselves would have understood it is extremely difficult. I’m not a fan of Campbell. Even the best modern scholars have a dual load of Christian and secular, post-Enlightenment baggage that they cannot help but drag into their work.
This makes the true worldview of pre-Christian Heathenry difficult to fully fathom by the descendents of those who destroyed it, as its suppression and eventually eradication by monothesim and the later eclipse of monotheism by secular sciences ultimately make it (pre-Chrsitian Germanic Heathenry) thoroughly alien to those reared in later eras.
I think with Germanic myth this situation is even more complicated, as the mythology recorded in classic Sagas and Eddas was compiled by Christians after Christianity had driven the old ways to their knees, leaving only wisps of what was once undoubtedly a complex pre-Christian theology.
Jason: “But more importantly, if you think that’s a dishonor, then I don’t think you understand what an archetype really is, because they’re just as real as the soil and the wind, too.
dm: Oddly enough, I’m a transpersonally trained psychotherapist…so I feel pretty comfortable with my grasp of archetypes.
And while archetypal interpretations of reality may be powerful and profoundly sacared…they are also extremely anthropocentric. To the archetypist, “gods” are not objective beings, but rather part of the very fabric of human consciousness, existing through the human thought field and not independent of it. They are as reliant upon human beings as we are upon them.
But my point is not whether this is right or wrong per se, but that from even a cursory reading of the eddaic and sagaic literature it is clear that anceint Heathens did not view the Sacred Powers as subjective or interpersonal shadows of a collective conscience, but rather as objective, personalized beings independent of humanity. I think that to draw interpretations from mythology and recast them though the fogged lens of our own worldview in an effort to suit our own needs and desires is, if not a dangerous action, then a dubious one at best.
As an aside, I was speaking to a friend the other day who dubbed you the “Noam Chomsky of the primitivist milieu” and to an extent, I’ve got to agree. The amount and variance of information you through up on the net is astounding!
–DM
Comment by dreaming mountain — 13 June 2006 @ 10:17 PM
I thought you might not understand archetypes, or at least, not understand them the same way I understand them. From my reading of Jung, archetypes are the templates of all existence. Synchronicity pushes them beyond the confines of the merely human psychology, and elevates them to the templates of existence itself. Humans do not make archetypes; archetypes make humans. Thus, “Let us make man in our own image, after our image and likeness.” Humans, and the whole universe around us, is formed from archetypes, not archetypes from humans. There is certainly the “safer” and more mundane idea where archetypes are merely expressions of human psychology, but Jung occasionally hints at, and rarely goes into depth about, the wider, cosmic archetypes, and the notion that everything in the universe is just an expression of them. I find that Jung’s archetypes in this sense are very difficult to disentangle from traditional ideas of Spirits, since every individual wolf is just one more experiment the Wolf Spirit tries at existence: itself just one more experiment the Animal Spirit tries at existence: itself just one more experiment the Great Spirit tries at existence….
More importantly, the distinction between perception and reality, between observer and observed, this strange notion that there is a meaningful difference between the individual mind and cosmic truth, is a bizarre superstition that any good shaman would denounce!
As far as Campbell, I love Campbell, and while your skepticism about the Christian’s ability to truly appreciate pre-Christian Heathenism has merit, I would suggest that such is no more (or less) the case for any religion one is not raised in.
I think traditional religion is typically well aware of its operation on multiple, simultaneous levels. I think this is a defining aspect of the holism of orality. I think it is actually a modernist and literate gloss that misses the fact that it is both, for lack of a better word, “literal,” and psychological–and metaphorical and spiritual and a lesson in natural science and many other things besides–all at once. Asking which level is “true” is akin to asking which face of a diamond is the “real” one.
Does that mean I sold out?
Comment by Jason Godesky — 13 June 2006 @ 10:43 PM
Jason: “…while your skepticism about the Christian’s ability to truly appreciate pre-Christian Heathenism has merit, I would suggest that such is no more (or less) the case for any religion one is not raised in.”
dm: Yes, I believe that to be true. In my experience, adopting the worldview of another is almost impossibile. Not to say its not a worthy endeavor to shade or drastically alter one’s worldview (considering the time we have been born into I’d say its vitally important) but total shifts…I’m skeptical that such a thing can truly be done.
I do think that we have an ally in the coming collapse, however, as it will DEMAND shifting and rebirthing on physical, psychological and spiritual planes…but being a pre-collapse human being attempting to adjust to a post collapse Earth will obviously color the totality of our lives and the lives of our early descendents at least.
Jason: “Does that mean I sold out?”
dm: hehe…no, but you are prolific. Too prolific for me to keep up with usually.
Comment by dreaming mountain — 14 June 2006 @ 12:25 AM
You’re right, but I also think you’re talking about a purity that’s not only impossible, but also quite unhealthy. I do not think it is possible or even necessarily wise to try to be “pure” as foragers, heathens, or any other unspoiled type. We’ve come from civilization; we can’t change our past, but we can change our future. I think our challenge is to create a synthesis, to combine the best of both worlds, and to create something new and sustainable, neither wholly indigenous or aboriginal, nor civilized.
In a word, an Afterculture.
Comment by Jason Godesky — 14 June 2006 @ 10:26 AM