The Orphic Mysteries with Ronnie Pontiac
Introduction is Skipped. Actual interview Transcript
Hello and welcome. I'm Jeffrey Mishlove. Today we'll be exploring the underworld journey of Orpheus, as well as the Orphic hymns. My guest is Ronnie Pontiac, who worked as Manly P. Hall's research assistant, screener, and designated substitute lecturer for seven years. He has produced award-winning documentaries and written articles for several esoteric magazines. He is the author of *American Metaphysical Religion: Esoteric and Mystical Traditions of the New World*. He is also the co-author with Tamra Lucid of *The Magic of the Orphic Hymns: A New Translation for the Modern Mystic*. Ronnie lives in Los Angeles, and now I'll switch over to the internet video. Welcome, Ronnie. It's a pleasure to be with you once again.
Thank you. As always, I'm honored to be here. We're going to shift gears quite a bit for this interview, because we've done, if I recall correctly, four interviews already discussing American metaphysical religion, going back to the era of the Founding Fathers up to the 21st century. At this point, we're going to be looking at ancient culture, particularly the myth of Orpheus. One of the things I learned from your book is that there's very little agreement about where the myths of Orpheus, the mysteries of Orpheus, and the legends of Orpheus originated, and what sort of rituals or practices surrounded them. The whole issue seems to be, on the one hand, shrouded in mystery and, on the other hand, a source of great inspiration for modern authors, filmmakers, and poets.
Absolutely. It's been a huge influence on Western esoteric culture, but also on all the arts in the West, in particular. It's amazing to see how countercultures have been inspired over and over again by things related to Orpheus. In the book, we point out that, in a way, it seems that Orphic culture was the first counterculture in Western history.
What kind of counterculture was it? We have a Greek culture that's Homeric and Olympian, honoring the warriors. The best thing in the world is to be a great fighter and to die in battle. Men are supposed to be very manly and ready to fight because the Greek city-states were always battling each other. They sacrificed animals as part of the worship of the Olympian gods. Now, along comes this new religion—a reworking of the Dionysian mysteries. In this religion, fighting is bad; being a warrior is not a good way to die. It's a terrible way to die because you'll remain in ignorance. It is not okay to sacrifice animals because what god could be pleased by such gore, horror, and suffering? Instead, we should be offering the gods our good deeds. We should offer flowers, honey, milk, and beautiful hymns that we write or poems to sing their praises, and to ask them to grace us with memory so that we can remember what we really are, which are immortal souls.
That is so different. Aristophanes, of course, makes fun of it, and Euripides shows anxiety about it in his plays. We see in these ancient Greek plays and in their theater how they're wrestling with this new counterculture, where the young men don't want to go fight. Then Socrates gets involved in all this. It's amazing because what we often forget in modern interpretations of Plato is that, in the Platonic world, in the world of Socrates, philosophy was an erotic art in the same way that music and poetry are. It's erotic because the eros of love is what leads us from, at first, falling in love with some physical thing or person or aspect of life, and then we gradually climb this ladder until we love the one, the true, the good, the beautiful.
I gather that in that context, Orpheus was regarded by representatives of the older culture as too effeminate. Indeed, not just effeminate, but he was seen as a coward, according to Plato, who tells the famous story, which I'm sure we'll discuss, called the "backward glance." It's about the death of Orpheus's wife, Eurydice, on their wedding day. She's attacked by a shepherd named Aristaeus, who might have been a beekeeper in another version. It’s odd because Aristaeus was a god of agriculture and beekeeping, a very positive god, and really his name means “the most excellent.” Yet, in this story, he becomes the villain. He becomes enamored of Eurydice on her wedding day, chases her in order to force himself on her, and she flees. She falls into a pit of vipers, and they bite her, causing her death.
Orpheus is, of course, utterly heartbroken and sings laments that are so beautiful and so heartbreaking about loss that everything stops. All of nature stops. Everything weeps—the sky weeps, the trees weep, and the gods weep with him as well. The gods realize they can't let this continue; everything has stopped. They tell him, “Why don't you take those songs into the underworld, sing to Hades, and ask him to let Eurydice come back?” After all, Dionysus went down there and got back his mother, Semele, so perhaps you can do that.
Orpheus goes down, and we might think this is rather courageous for this musician to enter the world of ghosts and the dead and the judges of the dead, especially since Hades's wife was acquired by force in a very similar way to how Eurydice died. Orpheus goes into the underworld and sings. There are various versions of what happens. The most common narrative is that Hades isn't persuaded, but Persephone, who resonates with this whole scenario, convinces Hades to let Orpheus have Eurydice back. However, Hades insists, “You cannot look back at her until she reaches the sunlight. If you do, you will lose her forever. This is how you will prove that you trust me.”
So, Orpheus leads the way, and she follows. He gets out into the sunlight and keeps walking, trying to be patient. He can hear her footsteps, or so he believes, but he can't stand it. He finally turns around just as she is about to step into the sunlight. She disappears, and he is heartbroken. Then he sings to the sun at sunrise—to Apollo every morning—and Apollo takes pity on him and teaches him all the mysteries. He was known among the Greeks simply as "the theologian," the one who invented all their religion.
To Plato, Plato says, “What a fuss! I mean, everybody dies. He loses his wife in a tragic way, granted, but a brave man wouldn't make such a fuss about it, wouldn't try to go down there to break the laws of nature. He was obviously a coward.” Orpheus was also known for refusing to compete for singing holy hymns, saying it was an insult. Everyone else claimed he was afraid of competition and, again, deemed him a coward. Greek opinions about him were very much divided.
Yet, Plato says that Socrates, contemplating his potential afterlife as he faces drinking the hemlock, states that if he has an afterlife, he will get to meet all the people he always wanted to converse with, and the first one he will talk to is Orpheus. Orphic themes permeate Plato's dialogues. In the *Laws*, when Plato finally decides who should create and interpret laws, he concludes it should be a group called the Night Gathering, which will only meet during the very first blush of sunlight until the full disk of the sun has risen above the horizon. He wanted them to be elder Orphic priests. Modern scholars in sociology and political science, who view the *Laws* as a very important document, suggest that by the time Plato wrote that, he must have been senile for putting these crazy mystics in charge of a rational government system he was designing.
There is a strange split in Plato and Greek culture between absolutely admiring Orpheus as the height of religion, poetry, and music, but also not liking him. He was a vegetarian and effeminate. There was even a story that he was on the Argo with Jason and the Argonauts searching for the Golden Fleece. He is best known there for silencing the sirens with his song. It was as if when he went into Hades, even Sisyphus rolling the stone could stop, and the vulture eating the liver of Prometheus for bringing fire to humans stopped. Millions of ghosts gathered around to hear him sing.
Orpheus, on the Argo, also acted as an interpreter of events. For example, if there was an earthquake, it meant Apollo’s footsteps were felt, and he wanted a shrine established there. Interestingly, he went to different places, inquired about their gods, and wrote songs for their deities, essentially giving them a mystery religion. However, there was another story that claimed he sang a song about a red-lipped boy and initiated homosexuality in Greece, possibly a slanderous or humorous story about him.
You can see that there was a lot of doubt among these masculine Greeks, who had worshiped Achilles and Odysseus, about what to do with this Orpheus character—he was clearly a revolutionary.
Before we leave this part of the subject, let's point out another reason he was countercultural. Prior to him, in Greek culture, unless you were a great hero—who might be lifted into the heavens to be with the gods, become stars, or be given a place in the Elysian Fields as a great historical hero—everybody else was out of luck. Everybody else went down to Hades and became flitting little shadows with no memory or ability to communicate. It was a very sad fate to lack a body and the ability to do things, eat, and enjoy life.
As a result, heroes and aspiring heroes could lord it over others in a sense, because they were meant to be immortal while everyone else would be ghosts. If you were bad, you’d go to Tartarus, a terrible place of mud and fire. Then Orpheus comes along and completely upends this idea. The Orphic notion is that you are an immortal soul, divine, a child of god who has completely forgotten your true nature. You are down here in this material world, your soul torn into pieces to make up your body—your organs, your cells, everything that makes you who you are.
So busy keeping all this functioning and reacting to the world, you don't even know your true identity. You could spend eternity falling from world to world, from life to life, never knowing who you truly are. But if you are initiated into the Orphic mysteries, you receive what the Germans call a *Totenpass*—a death passport. With it, you remember and regain your immortality and become a star. You are at the banquet of the gods with a consciousness akin to that of a god, co-creating existence.
For Orpheus, it was about remembering our true nature. To do that, you had to purify yourself. This is why, for example, he didn't consume meat. If you ate meat, you'd have already lost part of yourself; if you incorporated other lives into your body, then there’s so much density that your soul cannot attain any consciousness. You could live an ethical life, be quiet, refrain from killing, and learn about the gods, performing rituals like these hymns—asking the gods to help you and save you and to remember your true essence.
Then when you pass over and find yourself among all the thirsty souls, most of whom don't know where they are, they’re all going to go for the very first water they see, which is the water of forgetfulness. If you do that, you're doomed to another life. People in the mysteries would say, "No, no, no, don’t go with the crowd over there. Keep walking down that path." When you reach the Lake of Memory, guardians will ask, “Who are you? What do you want?” You will say, “I am a child of earth and of starry heaven, but my race is of heaven. This you know. Now give me cool water to drink from the Lake of Memory.”
They show you mercy as a divinity awakening to itself. You drink from the water of memory, remember all the lives you've lived, and now grasp the divine vision of creation, able to see and understand all and why it all occurs. As the myths would have it, this transformation allows you to join the gods at their banquet.
If you get initiated this way and, say, you are an intellectual, perhaps slightly effeminate male who is attracted to the Orphic mysteries, you walk down the street and encounter the big strong guys who've always thought you were a joke. You suddenly have a knowing look because you understand that they are the losers because they don’t know their true identity. When they die, they may be reborn as an animal, which would be a terrible fate for the Greeks. Consequently, you have the upper hand—you possess knowledge they lack, and this makes you cooler than them.
This is part of the argument that Orpheus is the first rock star. After all, his journey on the Argo resembles a tour bus, and he is ultimately torn apart by women. His songs contain all the mysteries of the world, yet others ridicule him, maintaining he’s a joke. Many archetypes projected on famous musicians today were first placed upon Orpheus.
It strikes me that a couple of elements reflect a connection with Pythagoras, who was also a vegetarian. What about the Eleusinian mysteries, which also involve a journey into the underworld? You mentioned Persephone, the goddess of the underworld, who was also abducted and taken down.
The mysteries of Eleusis are very similar, as I gather, although I'm not sure how much is truly known about them in comparison to the mysteries of Orpheus.
Yes, very much so. This gives us insight into how scholarship evolves. A famous recent example highlights the complexities of Orpheus scholarship. It compares to Penelope in the *Odyssey*, who weaves something daily that she unweaves each night while waiting for Odysseus to return. This is the ongoing saga of Orpheus studies. We think we know something, but then something else is discovered, causing our previous conclusions to falter.
We have two schools of thought: one suggests that there was never an Orpheus and that the Orphic mysteries were a literary creation probably conceived by Pythagoras and the Pythagorean school. It was a wonderful hoax that exceeded their wildest dreams. The other school argues that there was indeed an active Orphic religion in the Mediterranean for hundreds of years, rivaling any other religion.
As for the question of Orpheus's existence, probably not—there are five historical figures named Orpheus, but we don't know much about any of them. None of them match the Orpheus we know. There’s a great scholar who has written fascinating books titled *Black Athena*, discussing the influence of Egypt and Africa on Greek civilization. He posited that the Egyptian word, which may roughly be pronounced Orpeus or Orpious, refers to a hereditary prince in ancient Egypt. Thus, it's plausible that this is where some of the Orphic story originates, hinting at a potential Egyptian influence.
When we consider pyramid texts, we see concepts about immortality gained via knowing the right words to say and declarations of purity—all present in ancient Egyptian religion. There is much speculation regarding a period in Egyptian history when a holy war against the Assyrians occurred, during which Greek mercenaries were hired. There was a recodification of Egyptian beliefs, in which the pharaoh was originally the only one gaining immortality, transitioning to a system where everyone was granted that opportunity. This aligns closely with what Orpheus later espoused through the lens of Pythagoras.
Notably, one writer was known as Orpheus of Croton, and of course, Pythagoras was from Croton. So, some have suggested that Orpheus was, in fact, a pen name for Pythagoras. Additionally, we can't assert this originates solely from Egypt; Hittite beliefs also present similar ideas about forgetting, the pool of memory, and the code words needed for salvation.
Another fascinating aspect about Pythagoras is the clothing he chose. He wore pants, which Greeks typically did not; Persians did. He sported pants because he grew up in a city closely connected with Persia, where knowledge-sharing had taken place for generations. This connection granted him access to Babylonian astrology, astronomy, and various ideas that manifest in Orphism, where stars play a vital role.
Returning to the original question about Orpheus, very likely it's Pythagoras who is behind much of this, along with the Pythagorean community. Yet it's likely that no historical Orpheus existed. There’s a previously revered document called the *Testament of Orpheus* that emerged from the Jewish community in Alexandria, proclaiming Orpheus's existence and his studied relationship with Moses. Thus, people continually adapted this myth to suit their spiritual needs, which continues to occur, as our book demonstrates, with Orpheus being reinterpreted time and again—especially during the Renaissance, a period that emphasized Orpheus due to translations by Ficino.
Yes, absolutely. Ficino is a pivotal figure during the Renaissance. When we consider the people surrounding him and those he influenced, we find it very compelling. He often had a lyre or lute painted with Orpheus upon it. The famous tale surrounding Ficino in the hymns is that at age 29, in 1462, he resolved to devote his life to translating Plato, Aristotle, and, of course, the hymns. These works were rediscovered by Europe, preserved by Islam, and lost to Europe until traders sought this knowledge, returning with it.
Upon acquiring access to these texts, Ficino was thrilled and possessed the skills to translate them into Latin for a broader audience. Yet, he lacked financial means—being a priest, he was poor. He devoted himself to the hymns of Orpheus, which he noted as the crucial “hymn to the cosmos,” praying for the deities' aid to become capable of completing his translations.
Within days, his father presented him with letters from Cosimo De' Medici, one stating that he had purchased a house in Careggi, offering him an income to reside there. This enabled Ficino to devote himself fully to translating Plato and Aristotle, and he was requested to bring his lyre and sing these sacred hymns to authentically live and find happiness.
Together, Cosimo and Marsilio Ficino founded the Platonic Academy of Florence, reviving Plato's original academy. The gatherings they hosted included artists, sculptors, priests, and future popes, during which Ficino would sing hymns. He noted these hymns could be used for religious purposes but could also simply be enjoyed for their uplifting qualities. A journal entry from an opera composer named Poliziano reflects how stirred he became listening to Ficino, writing all night long after the experience.
Now, regarding the hymns themselves—I know you and your wife, Tamra, have created new translations.
We are blasphemers! Yes, indeed! There was a missing hymn we added, like the hymn to number and so forth. We approached this not merely as an exact scholarly translation—Athanassakis produced a wonderful translation—but rather as artists. We wanted to employ a little artistic license, inspired by the idea of Cocteau and the Orphic trilogy—not as wildly surreal, but beautifully so.
Tamra thoroughly researched the gods in terms of ritual and correspondences. We intended to enrich the text so that, as you read them, you would get a feel for what the god represented or liked, even including what they didn’t like. Our aim was to create beautiful, singable hymns with a poetic resonance.
Seeing as Tamra is a respected lyricist, she infused this tremendous ability to communicate profound meaning in just a few words. We took liberties here. Moreover, we discuss Onomachrytos within the book, who, during the era of the Athenian tyrants, described how he gathered the books of Homer and essentially created the *Iliad* and *Odyssey* as we know them. He also purportedly compiled the hymns of Orpheus. He was accused in court of altering them, either by adding or removing lines, and faced accusations of blasphemy. Thus, we consider ourselves blasphemers in that tradition.
You describe the hymns as magical, and I wonder, having worked with them, what you mean by magical in this context.
Sure! Let me share a personal experience. When we first began working on these hymns, I had a brief but impactful study of ancient Greek in college, giving me some understanding of the language. At that time, we were living in a third-story apartment with only one window facing more apartment buildings in the middle of Hollywood. As we adopted Orphic habits—avoiding beans, meat, alcohol, and intoxicants for purity—the sincerity was sincere but also mildly abstract; we weren’t necessarily fully sure we were engaging divinities.
We would softly sing these hymns by the window. A memorable experience occurred while performing the hymn to Athena. A great horned owl, typically unseen in daylight, appeared before us, landing on the closest telephone pole. It sat there throughout the hymn, and just as we finished, the owl swooped directly at us before ascending over the building. We felt astounded; it was an incredible moment.
As we continued, we noted more of these unusual occurrences. For example, while doing one of the hymns to Hermes, the wind suddenly whipped up without warning, rattling the blinds as if laughter filled the air. Later, during the hymn to Aphrodite, a couple holding hands walked beneath us, stopping at our window just as we sang, and they kissed.
We were simply astonished. We encouraged our friends to share their experiences using these hymns. Some reported personal transformations after engaging with them. Ficino stated that the hymns of Orpheus represented the most powerful magic. So what do we mean by magic?
Some view it as manifesting desires—Ficino used the hymns to achieve the means to translate works. Yet, I’d argue that the hymns aim not for manifestation but for awakening. Ficino believed that love held the key to everything. Within the hymns, we encounter the cycles of human life and the associated deities, signifying a necessary understanding of life's wisdom.
Even a solemn hymn like the hymn to death offers no pleas for mercy. Instead, it reflects a grasp of the inevitability of fate. We honor death for teaching us the value of life, praising it for reminding us to love life more deeply.
Magic, then, resonates in the acknowledgment of life’s beautiful, often fraught nature, awakening understanding of ourselves, life, and existence.
Ronnie, before we conclude, I hope you will grace our viewers by reading some of the hymns. I gather you've put them to music.
Well, a friend of ours is working on that. He has a degree in choral composition, although progress is slow. We hope to see the hymns gain musical treatment over time. People are using them and finding great resonance, and we invite anyone to share their experiences with us.
Upon completing our final version of these hymns for publication by Inner Traditions, it was during the lockdown when everything felt eerily quiet in the city. After reading the last page, we exchanged ecstatic laughter, resembling Dionysian celebration. Strangely, we heard a significant commotion emanating from the very area indicated by our neighbor as the former gathering spot of the Dionysus Society, causing our hair to stand on end.
What was happening? We are attempting to mediate profound experiences by the fruits of our examination. Positive impacts are evident historically and personally among friends—all finding profound value in these hymns—with the world currently in search of awakening a divine experience over the titanic destruction.
With that context laid, allow me to read some selections.
[Reading from the hymns]
I opened to *Love,* which offers us:
"Holier and purer Eros, winged Archer, you play with the passions of immortals and mortals alike. Inventive, androgynous, master of everything, of celestial light, of creatures of the roaring waves, of all that dwell in the underworld, on earth, and in the sky. Of all the creative winds that carry seeds of grass and grain to nourish mortals’ goddesses. You alone control every course. Bring us pure thoughts and banish vile urges leading to ruin. Ennoble the devoted with your glory."
Next, I’ll read from *Zeus*:
"Brighter than a clear blue sky. You were, you are, you will always be supremely sacred Zeus. We dedicate this to you. Under the oak at Dodona, your prophet priests with unwashed feet crouch, listening to your voice, speaking softly in rustling leaves and cooing doves. We place before you our testimony. You brought forth Mother Earth, hills swept by shrill winds, oceans, and all the stars. Strongest spirit, all father, your scepter is a thunderbolt. Beginning and end, you shelter the earth. Purify us, give us increase, father of thunder and lightning. You are also Zeus the planter, friend to farmers. You embody the law of hospitality, the civility of privacy and respect for property. We honor you, as we walk the Milky Way, the ladder of lights, the road of Zeus, from many faces grant perfect health, blameless wealth, sacred peace, and honorable glory."
As I mentioned the hymn to death, I share now:
"You reward all with a somber wreath of asphodel and parsley, the flower and herb of the cemetery. You direct the path of mortals. Your absence grants us time, breaking bodies' hold on souls. Undoing earth’s strong bonds, you take from us all we hold dear. To begging and pleading, you execute fate's verdict, which none escape. We honor you. Lead us away from the wheel of grief to the meadow of truth, liberator of the ripened soul, revealer of secrets, inspire us to love life more deeply."
That was magnificent, and I hope our viewers will share any unusual experiences while listening to these hymns in the comments section associated with this video.
Ronnie, as always, it is a brilliant discussion, and I know there's so much more we could cover—like who wrote these hymns?
Indeed, we can discuss the tremendous influence of these hymns as well! This aspect is incredibly exciting, revealing connections to places you wouldn’t originally expect. The evolution of Eurydice would also be a captivating discussion element, showing how she transitioned from being merely an absence to someone fully realized in poetic interpretations.
Well, what a joy to have you with us again. You are a fountain of knowledge, and I hope to continue exploring new topics anew with you in future conversations.
I would love that. Thank you so much!
You're very welcome! Thank you, viewers, for joining us. You, after all, are the reason we are here.
Thank you. As always, I'm honored to be here. We're going to shift gears quite a bit for this interview, because we've done, if I recall correctly, four interviews already discussing American metaphysical religion, going back to the era of the Founding Fathers up to the 21st century. At this point, we're going to be looking at ancient culture, particularly the myth of Orpheus. One of the things I learned from your book is that there's very little agreement about where the myths of Orpheus, the mysteries of Orpheus, and the legends of Orpheus originated, and what sort of rituals or practices surrounded them. The whole issue seems to be, on the one hand, shrouded in mystery and, on the other hand, a source of great inspiration for modern authors, filmmakers, and poets.
Absolutely. It's been a huge influence on Western esoteric culture, but also on all the arts in the West, in particular. It's amazing to see how countercultures have been inspired over and over again by things related to Orpheus. In the book, we point out that, in a way, it seems that Orphic culture was the first counterculture in Western history.
What kind of counterculture was it? We have a Greek culture that's Homeric and Olympian, honoring the warriors. The best thing in the world is to be a great fighter and to die in battle. Men are supposed to be very manly and ready to fight because the Greek city-states were always battling each other. They sacrificed animals as part of the worship of the Olympian gods. Now, along comes this new religion—a reworking of the Dionysian mysteries. In this religion, fighting is bad; being a warrior is not a good way to die. It's a terrible way to die because you'll remain in ignorance. It is not okay to sacrifice animals because what god could be pleased by such gore, horror, and suffering? Instead, we should be offering the gods our good deeds. We should offer flowers, honey, milk, and beautiful hymns that we write or poems to sing their praises, and to ask them to grace us with memory so that we can remember what we really are, which are immortal souls.
That is so different. Aristophanes, of course, makes fun of it, and Euripides shows anxiety about it in his plays. We see in these ancient Greek plays and in their theater how they're wrestling with this new counterculture, where the young men don't want to go fight. Then Socrates gets involved in all this. It's amazing because what we often forget in modern interpretations of Plato is that, in the Platonic world, in the world of Socrates, philosophy was an erotic art in the same way that music and poetry are. It's erotic because the eros of love is what leads us from, at first, falling in love with some physical thing or person or aspect of life, and then we gradually climb this ladder until we love the one, the true, the good, the beautiful.
I gather that in that context, Orpheus was regarded by representatives of the older culture as too effeminate. Indeed, not just effeminate, but he was seen as a coward, according to Plato, who tells the famous story, which I'm sure we'll discuss, called the "backward glance." It's about the death of Orpheus's wife, Eurydice, on their wedding day. She's attacked by a shepherd named Aristaeus, who might have been a beekeeper in another version. It’s odd because Aristaeus was a god of agriculture and beekeeping, a very positive god, and really his name means “the most excellent.” Yet, in this story, he becomes the villain. He becomes enamored of Eurydice on her wedding day, chases her in order to force himself on her, and she flees. She falls into a pit of vipers, and they bite her, causing her death.
Orpheus is, of course, utterly heartbroken and sings laments that are so beautiful and so heartbreaking about loss that everything stops. All of nature stops. Everything weeps—the sky weeps, the trees weep, and the gods weep with him as well. The gods realize they can't let this continue; everything has stopped. They tell him, “Why don't you take those songs into the underworld, sing to Hades, and ask him to let Eurydice come back?” After all, Dionysus went down there and got back his mother, Semele, so perhaps you can do that.
Orpheus goes down, and we might think this is rather courageous for this musician to enter the world of ghosts and the dead and the judges of the dead, especially since Hades's wife was acquired by force in a very similar way to how Eurydice died. Orpheus goes into the underworld and sings. There are various versions of what happens. The most common narrative is that Hades isn't persuaded, but Persephone, who resonates with this whole scenario, convinces Hades to let Orpheus have Eurydice back. However, Hades insists, “You cannot look back at her until she reaches the sunlight. If you do, you will lose her forever. This is how you will prove that you trust me.”
So, Orpheus leads the way, and she follows. He gets out into the sunlight and keeps walking, trying to be patient. He can hear her footsteps, or so he believes, but he can't stand it. He finally turns around just as she is about to step into the sunlight. She disappears, and he is heartbroken. Then he sings to the sun at sunrise—to Apollo every morning—and Apollo takes pity on him and teaches him all the mysteries. He was known among the Greeks simply as "the theologian," the one who invented all their religion.
To Plato, Plato says, “What a fuss! I mean, everybody dies. He loses his wife in a tragic way, granted, but a brave man wouldn't make such a fuss about it, wouldn't try to go down there to break the laws of nature. He was obviously a coward.” Orpheus was also known for refusing to compete for singing holy hymns, saying it was an insult. Everyone else claimed he was afraid of competition and, again, deemed him a coward. Greek opinions about him were very much divided.
Yet, Plato says that Socrates, contemplating his potential afterlife as he faces drinking the hemlock, states that if he has an afterlife, he will get to meet all the people he always wanted to converse with, and the first one he will talk to is Orpheus. Orphic themes permeate Plato's dialogues. In the *Laws*, when Plato finally decides who should create and interpret laws, he concludes it should be a group called the Night Gathering, which will only meet during the very first blush of sunlight until the full disk of the sun has risen above the horizon. He wanted them to be elder Orphic priests. Modern scholars in sociology and political science, who view the *Laws* as a very important document, suggest that by the time Plato wrote that, he must have been senile for putting these crazy mystics in charge of a rational government system he was designing.
There is a strange split in Plato and Greek culture between absolutely admiring Orpheus as the height of religion, poetry, and music, but also not liking him. He was a vegetarian and effeminate. There was even a story that he was on the Argo with Jason and the Argonauts searching for the Golden Fleece. He is best known there for silencing the sirens with his song. It was as if when he went into Hades, even Sisyphus rolling the stone could stop, and the vulture eating the liver of Prometheus for bringing fire to humans stopped. Millions of ghosts gathered around to hear him sing.
Orpheus, on the Argo, also acted as an interpreter of events. For example, if there was an earthquake, it meant Apollo’s footsteps were felt, and he wanted a shrine established there. Interestingly, he went to different places, inquired about their gods, and wrote songs for their deities, essentially giving them a mystery religion. However, there was another story that claimed he sang a song about a red-lipped boy and initiated homosexuality in Greece, possibly a slanderous or humorous story about him.
You can see that there was a lot of doubt among these masculine Greeks, who had worshiped Achilles and Odysseus, about what to do with this Orpheus character—he was clearly a revolutionary.
Before we leave this part of the subject, let's point out another reason he was countercultural. Prior to him, in Greek culture, unless you were a great hero—who might be lifted into the heavens to be with the gods, become stars, or be given a place in the Elysian Fields as a great historical hero—everybody else was out of luck. Everybody else went down to Hades and became flitting little shadows with no memory or ability to communicate. It was a very sad fate to lack a body and the ability to do things, eat, and enjoy life.
As a result, heroes and aspiring heroes could lord it over others in a sense, because they were meant to be immortal while everyone else would be ghosts. If you were bad, you’d go to Tartarus, a terrible place of mud and fire. Then Orpheus comes along and completely upends this idea. The Orphic notion is that you are an immortal soul, divine, a child of god who has completely forgotten your true nature. You are down here in this material world, your soul torn into pieces to make up your body—your organs, your cells, everything that makes you who you are.
So busy keeping all this functioning and reacting to the world, you don't even know your true identity. You could spend eternity falling from world to world, from life to life, never knowing who you truly are. But if you are initiated into the Orphic mysteries, you receive what the Germans call a *Totenpass*—a death passport. With it, you remember and regain your immortality and become a star. You are at the banquet of the gods with a consciousness akin to that of a god, co-creating existence.
For Orpheus, it was about remembering our true nature. To do that, you had to purify yourself. This is why, for example, he didn't consume meat. If you ate meat, you'd have already lost part of yourself; if you incorporated other lives into your body, then there’s so much density that your soul cannot attain any consciousness. You could live an ethical life, be quiet, refrain from killing, and learn about the gods, performing rituals like these hymns—asking the gods to help you and save you and to remember your true essence.
Then when you pass over and find yourself among all the thirsty souls, most of whom don't know where they are, they’re all going to go for the very first water they see, which is the water of forgetfulness. If you do that, you're doomed to another life. People in the mysteries would say, "No, no, no, don’t go with the crowd over there. Keep walking down that path." When you reach the Lake of Memory, guardians will ask, “Who are you? What do you want?” You will say, “I am a child of earth and of starry heaven, but my race is of heaven. This you know. Now give me cool water to drink from the Lake of Memory.”
They show you mercy as a divinity awakening to itself. You drink from the water of memory, remember all the lives you've lived, and now grasp the divine vision of creation, able to see and understand all and why it all occurs. As the myths would have it, this transformation allows you to join the gods at their banquet.
If you get initiated this way and, say, you are an intellectual, perhaps slightly effeminate male who is attracted to the Orphic mysteries, you walk down the street and encounter the big strong guys who've always thought you were a joke. You suddenly have a knowing look because you understand that they are the losers because they don’t know their true identity. When they die, they may be reborn as an animal, which would be a terrible fate for the Greeks. Consequently, you have the upper hand—you possess knowledge they lack, and this makes you cooler than them.
This is part of the argument that Orpheus is the first rock star. After all, his journey on the Argo resembles a tour bus, and he is ultimately torn apart by women. His songs contain all the mysteries of the world, yet others ridicule him, maintaining he’s a joke. Many archetypes projected on famous musicians today were first placed upon Orpheus.
It strikes me that a couple of elements reflect a connection with Pythagoras, who was also a vegetarian. What about the Eleusinian mysteries, which also involve a journey into the underworld? You mentioned Persephone, the goddess of the underworld, who was also abducted and taken down.
The mysteries of Eleusis are very similar, as I gather, although I'm not sure how much is truly known about them in comparison to the mysteries of Orpheus.
Yes, very much so. This gives us insight into how scholarship evolves. A famous recent example highlights the complexities of Orpheus scholarship. It compares to Penelope in the *Odyssey*, who weaves something daily that she unweaves each night while waiting for Odysseus to return. This is the ongoing saga of Orpheus studies. We think we know something, but then something else is discovered, causing our previous conclusions to falter.
We have two schools of thought: one suggests that there was never an Orpheus and that the Orphic mysteries were a literary creation probably conceived by Pythagoras and the Pythagorean school. It was a wonderful hoax that exceeded their wildest dreams. The other school argues that there was indeed an active Orphic religion in the Mediterranean for hundreds of years, rivaling any other religion.
As for the question of Orpheus's existence, probably not—there are five historical figures named Orpheus, but we don't know much about any of them. None of them match the Orpheus we know. There’s a great scholar who has written fascinating books titled *Black Athena*, discussing the influence of Egypt and Africa on Greek civilization. He posited that the Egyptian word, which may roughly be pronounced Orpeus or Orpious, refers to a hereditary prince in ancient Egypt. Thus, it's plausible that this is where some of the Orphic story originates, hinting at a potential Egyptian influence.
When we consider pyramid texts, we see concepts about immortality gained via knowing the right words to say and declarations of purity—all present in ancient Egyptian religion. There is much speculation regarding a period in Egyptian history when a holy war against the Assyrians occurred, during which Greek mercenaries were hired. There was a recodification of Egyptian beliefs, in which the pharaoh was originally the only one gaining immortality, transitioning to a system where everyone was granted that opportunity. This aligns closely with what Orpheus later espoused through the lens of Pythagoras.
Notably, one writer was known as Orpheus of Croton, and of course, Pythagoras was from Croton. So, some have suggested that Orpheus was, in fact, a pen name for Pythagoras. Additionally, we can't assert this originates solely from Egypt; Hittite beliefs also present similar ideas about forgetting, the pool of memory, and the code words needed for salvation.
Another fascinating aspect about Pythagoras is the clothing he chose. He wore pants, which Greeks typically did not; Persians did. He sported pants because he grew up in a city closely connected with Persia, where knowledge-sharing had taken place for generations. This connection granted him access to Babylonian astrology, astronomy, and various ideas that manifest in Orphism, where stars play a vital role.
Returning to the original question about Orpheus, very likely it's Pythagoras who is behind much of this, along with the Pythagorean community. Yet it's likely that no historical Orpheus existed. There’s a previously revered document called the *Testament of Orpheus* that emerged from the Jewish community in Alexandria, proclaiming Orpheus's existence and his studied relationship with Moses. Thus, people continually adapted this myth to suit their spiritual needs, which continues to occur, as our book demonstrates, with Orpheus being reinterpreted time and again—especially during the Renaissance, a period that emphasized Orpheus due to translations by Ficino.
Yes, absolutely. Ficino is a pivotal figure during the Renaissance. When we consider the people surrounding him and those he influenced, we find it very compelling. He often had a lyre or lute painted with Orpheus upon it. The famous tale surrounding Ficino in the hymns is that at age 29, in 1462, he resolved to devote his life to translating Plato, Aristotle, and, of course, the hymns. These works were rediscovered by Europe, preserved by Islam, and lost to Europe until traders sought this knowledge, returning with it.
Upon acquiring access to these texts, Ficino was thrilled and possessed the skills to translate them into Latin for a broader audience. Yet, he lacked financial means—being a priest, he was poor. He devoted himself to the hymns of Orpheus, which he noted as the crucial “hymn to the cosmos,” praying for the deities' aid to become capable of completing his translations.
Within days, his father presented him with letters from Cosimo De' Medici, one stating that he had purchased a house in Careggi, offering him an income to reside there. This enabled Ficino to devote himself fully to translating Plato and Aristotle, and he was requested to bring his lyre and sing these sacred hymns to authentically live and find happiness.
Together, Cosimo and Marsilio Ficino founded the Platonic Academy of Florence, reviving Plato's original academy. The gatherings they hosted included artists, sculptors, priests, and future popes, during which Ficino would sing hymns. He noted these hymns could be used for religious purposes but could also simply be enjoyed for their uplifting qualities. A journal entry from an opera composer named Poliziano reflects how stirred he became listening to Ficino, writing all night long after the experience.
Now, regarding the hymns themselves—I know you and your wife, Tamra, have created new translations.
We are blasphemers! Yes, indeed! There was a missing hymn we added, like the hymn to number and so forth. We approached this not merely as an exact scholarly translation—Athanassakis produced a wonderful translation—but rather as artists. We wanted to employ a little artistic license, inspired by the idea of Cocteau and the Orphic trilogy—not as wildly surreal, but beautifully so.
Tamra thoroughly researched the gods in terms of ritual and correspondences. We intended to enrich the text so that, as you read them, you would get a feel for what the god represented or liked, even including what they didn’t like. Our aim was to create beautiful, singable hymns with a poetic resonance.
Seeing as Tamra is a respected lyricist, she infused this tremendous ability to communicate profound meaning in just a few words. We took liberties here. Moreover, we discuss Onomachrytos within the book, who, during the era of the Athenian tyrants, described how he gathered the books of Homer and essentially created the *Iliad* and *Odyssey* as we know them. He also purportedly compiled the hymns of Orpheus. He was accused in court of altering them, either by adding or removing lines, and faced accusations of blasphemy. Thus, we consider ourselves blasphemers in that tradition.
You describe the hymns as magical, and I wonder, having worked with them, what you mean by magical in this context.
Sure! Let me share a personal experience. When we first began working on these hymns, I had a brief but impactful study of ancient Greek in college, giving me some understanding of the language. At that time, we were living in a third-story apartment with only one window facing more apartment buildings in the middle of Hollywood. As we adopted Orphic habits—avoiding beans, meat, alcohol, and intoxicants for purity—the sincerity was sincere but also mildly abstract; we weren’t necessarily fully sure we were engaging divinities.
We would softly sing these hymns by the window. A memorable experience occurred while performing the hymn to Athena. A great horned owl, typically unseen in daylight, appeared before us, landing on the closest telephone pole. It sat there throughout the hymn, and just as we finished, the owl swooped directly at us before ascending over the building. We felt astounded; it was an incredible moment.
As we continued, we noted more of these unusual occurrences. For example, while doing one of the hymns to Hermes, the wind suddenly whipped up without warning, rattling the blinds as if laughter filled the air. Later, during the hymn to Aphrodite, a couple holding hands walked beneath us, stopping at our window just as we sang, and they kissed.
We were simply astonished. We encouraged our friends to share their experiences using these hymns. Some reported personal transformations after engaging with them. Ficino stated that the hymns of Orpheus represented the most powerful magic. So what do we mean by magic?
Some view it as manifesting desires—Ficino used the hymns to achieve the means to translate works. Yet, I’d argue that the hymns aim not for manifestation but for awakening. Ficino believed that love held the key to everything. Within the hymns, we encounter the cycles of human life and the associated deities, signifying a necessary understanding of life's wisdom.
Even a solemn hymn like the hymn to death offers no pleas for mercy. Instead, it reflects a grasp of the inevitability of fate. We honor death for teaching us the value of life, praising it for reminding us to love life more deeply.
Magic, then, resonates in the acknowledgment of life’s beautiful, often fraught nature, awakening understanding of ourselves, life, and existence.
Ronnie, before we conclude, I hope you will grace our viewers by reading some of the hymns. I gather you've put them to music.
Well, a friend of ours is working on that. He has a degree in choral composition, although progress is slow. We hope to see the hymns gain musical treatment over time. People are using them and finding great resonance, and we invite anyone to share their experiences with us.
Upon completing our final version of these hymns for publication by Inner Traditions, it was during the lockdown when everything felt eerily quiet in the city. After reading the last page, we exchanged ecstatic laughter, resembling Dionysian celebration. Strangely, we heard a significant commotion emanating from the very area indicated by our neighbor as the former gathering spot of the Dionysus Society, causing our hair to stand on end.
What was happening? We are attempting to mediate profound experiences by the fruits of our examination. Positive impacts are evident historically and personally among friends—all finding profound value in these hymns—with the world currently in search of awakening a divine experience over the titanic destruction.
With that context laid, allow me to read some selections.
[Reading from the hymns]
I opened to *Love,* which offers us:
"Holier and purer Eros, winged Archer, you play with the passions of immortals and mortals alike. Inventive, androgynous, master of everything, of celestial light, of creatures of the roaring waves, of all that dwell in the underworld, on earth, and in the sky. Of all the creative winds that carry seeds of grass and grain to nourish mortals’ goddesses. You alone control every course. Bring us pure thoughts and banish vile urges leading to ruin. Ennoble the devoted with your glory."
Next, I’ll read from *Zeus*:
"Brighter than a clear blue sky. You were, you are, you will always be supremely sacred Zeus. We dedicate this to you. Under the oak at Dodona, your prophet priests with unwashed feet crouch, listening to your voice, speaking softly in rustling leaves and cooing doves. We place before you our testimony. You brought forth Mother Earth, hills swept by shrill winds, oceans, and all the stars. Strongest spirit, all father, your scepter is a thunderbolt. Beginning and end, you shelter the earth. Purify us, give us increase, father of thunder and lightning. You are also Zeus the planter, friend to farmers. You embody the law of hospitality, the civility of privacy and respect for property. We honor you, as we walk the Milky Way, the ladder of lights, the road of Zeus, from many faces grant perfect health, blameless wealth, sacred peace, and honorable glory."
As I mentioned the hymn to death, I share now:
"You reward all with a somber wreath of asphodel and parsley, the flower and herb of the cemetery. You direct the path of mortals. Your absence grants us time, breaking bodies' hold on souls. Undoing earth’s strong bonds, you take from us all we hold dear. To begging and pleading, you execute fate's verdict, which none escape. We honor you. Lead us away from the wheel of grief to the meadow of truth, liberator of the ripened soul, revealer of secrets, inspire us to love life more deeply."
That was magnificent, and I hope our viewers will share any unusual experiences while listening to these hymns in the comments section associated with this video.
Ronnie, as always, it is a brilliant discussion, and I know there's so much more we could cover—like who wrote these hymns?
Indeed, we can discuss the tremendous influence of these hymns as well! This aspect is incredibly exciting, revealing connections to places you wouldn’t originally expect. The evolution of Eurydice would also be a captivating discussion element, showing how she transitioned from being merely an absence to someone fully realized in poetic interpretations.
Well, what a joy to have you with us again. You are a fountain of knowledge, and I hope to continue exploring new topics anew with you in future conversations.
I would love that. Thank you so much!
You're very welcome! Thank you, viewers, for joining us. You, after all, are the reason we are here.
End of Interview.