On the Naming of Gods

An essay in the form of an introduction and three parts, identifying some of the processes involved in the naming of gods and suggesting ways of thinking about the underlying identities implied, using mainly the Celtic religion as a model. 

Introduction:

Anyone studying any polytheistic religion may well be tempted at times to ask just how many Gods people thought there really were. This is particularly true when it comes to Celtic religion, the remains of which are so fragmentary. The problem is not helped by the fact that there are many sacred names about which we know little other than a name - which may have been a local title of an otherwise widely revered figure, refer to an aboriginal spirit of the locality, be an otherwise unrecorded deity of particular note or a combination of any of these. If we are to understand the symbolic meanings of the Celtic religion, or of paganism in general, there is a need to classify these deities based on how and why they were identified as they were. The naming of the Gods comes at the end of a complex creative social process and should never be taken at face value.

The Linguistic Base

It should go without saying that a key issue in the interpretation of the names of the Celtic gods, as with those of any other tradition, is the correct identification of the root meanings of their names as they are known to us or can be confidently reconstructed. Once we can do this, we often see that the linguistic content of what appears at first sight to be “simply a name” often reveals these “names” to be a range of epithets, titles and other descriptive devices, illustrative of various layers of religious thought and practice. It is clear that many different “names” can refer to the same God or Goddess using different forms of identification, and what appears to be a plethora of multiple deities turns out to be a complex, but ultimately methodical system of referring to the various ways that we can interact with a core of divine functions and personalities.

Which, if any of these names, is to be seen as the basic name of the God or personage concerned is not easy to decipher without a thorough knowledge of the religious beliefs and practices involved. The question may perhaps best be addressed by asking which name is the most independent of context in reference to that entity.

It is worth noting that names of legendary figures in particular may be given at or before birth, or adopted or imposed later in life, or even after death, each time reflecting changing social functions, as when a Pope or King adopts a ruling name on coronation, or a warrior adopts a totemic name on his initiation, or is attributed a sacred title after a heroic death. While it is normal to use the latest name given as if it were the one valid name, earlier names continue to be used to refer to the prior career of the person, and may reflect an important aspect of their real identity.

Difficulties of Working in the Celtic Environment

Working through this is all the more complicated in the case of the Celtic languages, where there is a often lack of expertise among many non-Celticist commentators, and when even the most knowledgeable can disagree on fundamental questions of interpretation. Despite the difficulties, a considerable amount is known about Celtic language and culture, and, if anything, this store of scientifically trustworthy information is increasing rather than diminishing as time goes by.

In the case of the insular Celtic languages there is a vast range of linguistic sources from across the centuries, including usage in the living languages, which can be compared with the results of on-going archeological research and recorded or living local traditions. Together, these sources can reveal a remarkable amount about early beliefs and traditions. Once again, it bears repetition that careful consideration of the evidence, ancient and modern, is required to avoid misinterpretations. All of this is highly demanding, and easily mishandled.

Problematic Theoretical Approaches

Particularly problematic is the role of theories of the development and content of Celtic belief that are adopted by modern interpreters. These range from the academically respectable, but nonetheless questionable (such as the theory that Celtic civilization was essentially an Iron Age phenomenon), and the dubious assertions of feminist anthropology and archeology (in the tradition of Joseph Campbell and Marija Gimbutas) that a matriarchy must have lain at the base of all early European religion, to the attempts of reconstructionists (especially in the UK) to link Celtic religion with notions of nature worship dating from amateur enthusiasts of the 18^th Century, with their desire to link the Celts to the most significant Neolithic monuments, such as Stonehenge, and their known associations with sun worship. It is worth taking a moment to look at some of these more popular claims.

Feminist Archeology

Feminist archeology suffers from being politically correct at a time when the rights of women are at last beginning to receive the status they deserve in the modern world. The welcome nature of its central thesis - that matriarchy preceded patriarchy, and was forcibly suppressed by it - makes it highly popular among enthusiasts of a Golden Age and has resulted in the widespread contemporary belief that the earliest religions imagined the divine force as female. Thus Neopagans typically worship “The Goddess” as their supreme being, and argue that male Gods were originally her lovers, of whom she disposed as she willed, a view enjoyed by some men, no less than by women. 

Attractive as this is to many today, there is little, if any, reason to believe it true. In brief, it is a priori unlikely that females were considered symbols of strength in Hunter-gatherer societies, seeing as how the Hunt was quintessentially a male preserve, and male animals almost universally represent strength and dominance both in the wild and in hunting societies that live there; while in early agricultural societies the evidence from archeology (such as at Newgrange in Ireland), iconography (kingship seen as the source of fertility), myth (such as that of the castration of Ouranos), and early rituals (such as the hieros gamos) is plain; the male principle was seen as the sole impregnating force, literally planting life in water, land or flesh. Wherever gender was distinguished as such, virgin birth was impossible without male divine intervention. 

Put simply, it was not properly understood that conception required a 50:50 genetic input, and the female was viewed as “vessel” whose role was to feed and nurture the male-implanted seed to adulthood, much as we might view a Petri dish used to culture bacteria! The fact that this is biologically incorrect did not stop anyone believing it for a very long time. As late as the 1670's so called “animalculists” and “ovists” were still arguing if you could or could not see a tiny pre-formed baby inside the human sperm viewed through a microscope, and happily provided illustrations to “prove” it. (Wonderfully discussed by Jonathan Miller in The Body in Question.)

In such a gender-biased context, it is unimaginable that women were seen as the source of life, as feminists claim. Rather were they the source of the food and love that make life thrive. Early images of Goddesses were symbols of plenitude and love - as symbolized by the old names Piveria (The Full One) and Priya (Beloved) - adored by boys and men, but they were not symbols of female rule. As throughout the subsequent history of art, the female nude, whether fulsome or lithe, was created, even at the dawn of history, for the benefit of the dominant male gaze.

Neopaganist Beliefs

Lately, Neopagans have adapted to the feminist perspective, raising the status of the Great Mother, who is now often cited as the ultimate Celtic deity, in defiance of evidence to the contrary. Early in their history, 18^th Century enthusiastic Neopagans had a more male-centred view, insisting that equinoxes and solstices, so obviously linked to early “British” monuments such as Stonehenge, had to have played a major part in “Celtic” religion. Again, this was despite the lack of evidence from the real Celtic literary and folk traditions, of which they were often ignorant or dismissive. In their eyes the Celtic religion (in typical 18^th Century Romantic fashion) was a religion of Nature, and in particular of Sun worship, with its implicit orgiastic imagery of naked revels at dawn on the great solar feasts. Enough to make a grown man faint with sentiment!

The fact is that the native Celtic tradition completely ignores the solstices and equinoxes, however important they must have been in Neolithic times, and instead celebrates the evidently druidic festivals of the start of the seasons: Samhain (31^st Oct/Ist Nov – start of Winter, believed to have been the druidic New Year), Imbolc (31^st Jan/1^st Feb – Spring), Bealtain (30^th April/1^st May – Summer) and Lughnasa (31^st July/1^st Aug – Autumn), each of which was associated with changes in agricultural activity, appropriate to the seasons concerned. Even the mythology of kingship, the most likely arena for Solar worship by far, seems to circle around these farming festivals rather than, say Mid-Summer. Neopagans have compromised by combining these two traditions – Neolithic and Celtic into a composite calendar, but have still not fully abandoned their commitment to 18^th Century Solarism.

Open to New Evidence

All these theories, respectably derived or otherwise, create tendencies in interpretation that result in the manipulation of evidence to suit the particular theory. In as much as some theoretical approach, explicit or implicit, is needed in all forms of interpretation, it is logically impossible to avoid falling into this trap. But if we are to be scientific about it, it is vital to stay open to new evidence as it becomes available and to be aware that any theoretical interpretation, however established, must be open to correction.

A good example on the highest academic level is provided by the implications of Prof. John Koch's recent translation of Tartessian funeral inscriptions as Q-Celtic. Together with Prof. Barry Cunliffe's theoretical suggestions of a Bronze Age Celtic spread along the Atlantic coast, this research has the potential to replace the accepted paradigm of Celtic origins, and is set to confirm the spread of Celtic culture across Europe as a mostly Bronze Age phenomenon, and not Iron Age as has previously been argued.

What are Names?

Before we look at divine “names”, it is worth noting that many personal and family names used today originally served a variety of functions before being adopted as “simply a name”.

Names can:

1. Indicate titles, such as those referring to a profession or position in society

        e.g. Thatcher, Carter, Butler, Smith,

2. Show affiliation to family and ancestors

        e.g. Mac Néill – Son of Niall, a clan descended from Niall of the Nine Hostages,

3. Show affiliation to locality and nationality

        e.g. Scharzenegger, Holm, Welsh, English etc.,

4. Invoke protective spirits and deities

        e.g. Ivogenos - later Eoghan - now Eoin - Yew-Born, an ancestral tree god,

5. Express ideals of vigor, character and fortune (often illustrated in heraldry)

        e.g. Armstrong, Richard (Ric-hard = Rule-Strong), Blessed

6. Refer to physical features

        e.g. Brown, Cruickshank,

or

7. Refer to well-known acts or habits attributed to an individual or expected from them

        e.g. Dances with Wolves!

We should expect most of these functions to apply equally to divine names. What follows, then, are suggestions about what the original framers of Celtic religion and pagan religion in general may have been doing when they devised the names and titles for their deities. To start with I want to discuss a critical function that gods play and that, quite often, represents the core identity that lies behind the various titles and designations that we hear...

                                                                                 Parts 1 - 3  to follow

© Mícheál úa Séaghdha, Praha 2013