Pagan Theology

In the ancient Egyptian pantheon, Thoth—whose ancient Egyptian name is Djehuty—is the god of wisdom, writing, hieroglyphs, science, magic, art, and justice. Thoth is a cosmic mediator, a figure whose mastery of language and calculation allows him to maintain the balance of the universe, Ma’at.

The ancient Egyptians viewed knowledge as a profound sacred technology. Thoth serves as the patron of this realm, embodying the belief that the written word and mathematical precision were methods of participating in the divine creation and preservation of reality.

Thoth was depicted either as a man with the head of a iblis, accompanied by a writing palette and a reed pen as symbols of record-keeping, or as a baboon, sometimes with a crescent disc on his head as a symbol of lunar cycles and the nocturnal nature of wisdom.

As the god of the moon, Thoth is the “Silver Aton” and the deputy of the sun god Ra. When Ra traverses the underworld at night, Thoth illuminates the darkness, marking the passage of time through the phases of the moon. This celestial role reinforces Thoth’s connection to counting, calendars, and the measurement of time.

Hieroglyphs in the Egyptian language are called medu netjer, “the words of the god.” Since Thoth invented writing, he is the supreme source of all the knowledge contained in these texts.

Thoth recorded the lives and deeds of humans and the secret names of the gods. In the afterlife, during the “Weighing of the Heart,” Thoth acts as a witness. He stands beside the scales, recording the verdict on whether the deceased’s heart was lighter than the feather of Maat. His presence guarantees that the transition to the afterlife is governed by cosmic justice. It was he who formulated the language of the deities, making him the patron of scribes, who were a respected and influential class in Egyptian society.

In the Egyptian pagan tradition, “magic” and “science” were one and the same. Arithmetic, astronomy, and medicine are esoteric disciplines here, requiring divine approval.

Magic, known in the Egyptian language as heka, permeates the entire universe. The initiate understands the underlying vibrations and secret names that govern the world. A scribe, by writing down a spell or incantation, effectively “encodes” reality. To possess the knowledge of Thoth is to possess the ability to influence the natural order of things.

The construction of the pyramids, the irrigation of the Nile, and the mapping of the stars were all based on Thoth’s mathematical knowledge. Thoth was revered as the “Lord of the Eight” due to the status of geometry as the fundamental law of the cosmos, referring to the Ogdoad—the eight primordial deities embodying the state of the world before creation. The application of mathematics is an imitation of the divine act of creation, bringing the order of Ma’at out of the chaotic void of Isfet.

During the Greco-Roman period, the cult of Thoth evolved into the cult of Hermes Trismegistus, “Thrice-Greatest Hermes.” This fusion of Egyptian mystical wisdom and Greek philosophy gave rise to the Hermetica—a collection of writings that profoundly influenced the development of Western alchemy, science, and esoteric traditions.

The Scandinavian pagan tradition is unique in that it does not divide the world into two or three planes of existence, as in other traditions, but instead conceives of the cosmos as a more complex and multidimensional ecosystem. And, of course, at the center of this ecosystem is Yggdrasil—a colossal sacred ash tree, literally the axis of the universe, which supports nine interconnected realms.

We know about this cosmology thanks to two 13th-century Icelandic texts: the collection of anonymous folk poems Poetic Edda and the Prose Edda, written by the scholar and statesman Snorri Sturluson.

The name Yggdrasil translates as “Odin’s horse” or “Odin’s gallows,” in honor of the myth that tells how Odin once hanged himself from the branches of the World Tree to learn the runes. The entire Yggdrasil is constantly under cosmic strain:

...the malevolent dragon Níðhöggr gnaws at its roots...

...four stags, named Dáinn, Dvalinn, Duneyrr, and Durathrór, graze on its treetops…

...at the top of Yggdrasil sits a nameless eagle, while Ratatoskr runs back and forth between it and Nidhogg, relaying insults between them…

To prevent the stags and the dragon from completely destroying Yggdrasil, the Norns, the maidens of fate, draw water daily from Urd’s sacred well, Urðarbrunnr, and smear the branches with fertile mud so that the tree does not rot.

Thanks to the Eddas, we know of the existence of nine realms on Yggdrasil, though none of the sagas provides a clear list of these realms. However, modern researchers have been able to reconstruct at least a rough list:

Asgard—the realm of the Æsir gods. The heavenly stronghold of deities such as Odin, Thor, and Frigg, which also includes Valhalla.

Midgard—the realm of humans. Our world, surrounded by a vast ocean inhabited by the world serpent Jörmungandr.

Jotunheim – the realm of the Jötnar giants, a wild, chaotic region where mountains and ice embody the untamed forces of nature.

Vanaheim – the realm of the Vanir gods, the homeland of the elder deities associated with nature and fertility, such as Freyr, Freyja, and Njörðr.

Alfheim—the realm of the light elves, a radiant, beautiful realm ruled by the god Freyr.

Svartalfheim—the realm of the dwarves, also known as the dark elves, an underground realm of master blacksmiths, full of caves, forges, and incredible riches.

Niflheim—the realm of ice and mist, the primordial realm of icy cold and darkness that existed before the dawn of life.

Helheim, also known as Hel, is the realm of the dead, the underworld ruled by the goddess Hel, intended for those who die of old age or illness.

This worldview was defined by a dualistic philosophy of space. It includes concepts such as innangarð, which translates as “within the fence,” and útangarð, which translates as “outside the fence.” “ Innangarð is the force represented by Midgard and Asgard, embodying order, law, civilization, and safety. Útangarð, on the other hand, is represented by Jötunheim and the primordial worlds, embodying wild nature, chaos, unpredictable magical forces, and danger.

The Æsir do not seek to destroy the giants, nor útangarð along with them. They merely contain this force to maintain a fragile and dynamic balance. This protection of innangarð helps sustain the existence of Yggdrasil until Ragnarök arrives…

In the Roman pagan tradition, the founding of a city played a role greater than mere agriculture or the cold marking out of boundaries. It was a mysterious act in which a person, by lifting the plow, consecrated the land. Rome was born out of the liturgy of the boundary: first a circle was marked out, then a center was established, and only then did the possibility arise for a life that would be orderly, lawful, and visible to the gods. Lucius Mestrius Plutarch relates: when the city was founded, Etruscan experts in sacred rites were invited, who taught Romulus how to establish the city as a religious rite. First, a circular ditch called mundus—a name also given to the sky—was dug near the Comitia; into it were placed the first fruits and soil brought by each of the future citizens from their homelands. This spot was designated as the center, and they laid out the city around it.

The city of Rome begins with sacrifice and remembrance. In the Roman pagan tradition, the earth must be reconciled with humanity through ritual, sanctified by an offering, marked with a sign, and made habitable through religion. Lucius Mestrius Plutarch states: the first fruits of what was recognized as good and necessary were laid upon the mundus. Thus Rome acquired its soul, creating a space in which the community could live as a unified whole.

Romulus, having fitted the plow with a bronze plowshare, harnessed a bull and a cow to it and plowed a deep furrow around the future city walls. Those who followed him were to turn the clods of earth inward, toward the city, so that none of them would fall outward. Marcus Terentius Varro states: this rite is of Etruscan origin, for cities in Latium were often founded in this manner “on a sacred day,” with a team of a bull and a cow. Nothing is cast outward; everything sacred is returned inward; the city is assembled, as if a vessel filled and sealed with a blessing.

This furrow serves as a religious boundary. Marcus Terentius Varro states: in this way the pomerium was defined, and its stone markers served as the boundary of the city’s auspices. Lucius Mestrius Plutarch states: the line was called pomerium, since this word means “behind the wall” or “beyond the wall,” and in places where gates were to be erected, the plow was lifted, leaving a free opening in the line for them. In the Roman pagan tradition, the sacred boundary must be intact; it separates the city. Gates are an exception, for life must be able to enter and exit. The city takes on the form of a sacred distinction: within, its own order; outside, a different space that is bounded.

The entire ritual expresses the fundamental truth that any community exists only when it acknowledges the supreme law of the city above itself. Publius Ovidius Naso recounts: before plowing the furrow, Romulus offers a sacrificial pledge to the earth, erects an altar, kindles a new fire, and then calls upon Jupiter, Mars, and Vesta to support the city’s foundation. The city is built as an object of the deities’ care, built under their auspicia. Publius Ovidius Naso recounts: the plow was drawn by a white cow and a snow-white bull, on a day associated with the Paralia, which the Romans later celebrated as the birthday of Rome. The city is born of purity, ritual, and the invocation of the heavenly canopy.

The boundary of the city of Rome was a religious demarcation, within which space became a moral reality. Marcus Terentius Varro states: pomerium marked the limit of the city’s auspices; on one side of the line, the city already stood in a special relationship with the deities; on the other, it did not yet. In the Roman pagan tradition, the city boundary ushered citizens into a way of life marked by responsibility. Not all space is the same; there is consecrated space and unconsecrated space, there is order and disorder, there is the city as a form of human harmony with the heavenly law, and there is the external world, which must yet be brought into proper measure. The founding of Rome is a sacred-anthropological act: a person becomes different because they enter into a consecrated order.

In Roman tradition, the city’s first boundary is linked to the tragedy of Remus. Lucius Mestrius Plutarch recounts: Romulus, upon seeing a furrow in the earth, began to mock his brother’s work and even leaped over it, for which he was killed. Publius Ovidius Naso recounts: the brother who crossed the line perished, and Romulus declared that this would be the fate of anyone who dared to cross its walls. The city’s boundary is so sacred that violating it is not a mere technical infraction but a sacrilegious crime. Sacred space tolerates no mockery, for mockery is the beginning of the disintegration of form.

But the Roman rite was not cruelty for cruelty’s sake. It asserts that the world is habitable only when there is a boundary, and a boundary is effective only when it is recognized as sacred. The Roman wall is the external form of internal harmony, a visible sign that the community is gathered together. That is why the plow serves as an instrument of consecration: it furrows the space for citizenship. That is why clods of earth are turned inward: everything that rises from the depths must be brought into the heart of the city so that urban order may emerge as a sense of unity. Rome conceives of itself in advance as a sacred form of the human multitude, where place and law, earth and worship, memory and power are united in a single act of foundation.

The forest is a force with a will of its own. The forest spirit, commonly called a Leshy or Lesovik, is the guardian of the forests and animals. Leshy are Slavic forest spirits that can take the form of an old man or an animal, and their role is to protect the forest. The forest is a territory with a master, a guardian, and a will of its own.

This is the logic underlying the ritual caution observed before entering the forest. The relationship between humans and the wild world is reciprocal: people enter the “foreign territory” of the forest to gather mushrooms, herbs, berries, or healing water, but they do so as part of an exchange. “Any contact with nature” is based on reciprocity, and peasants would begin these relationships with an offering in order to receive a gift in return. They would negotiate with the forest.

These negotiations took the form of a direct request or a small gift. Offerings to the forest spirit include eggs, bread, salt, corn grits, pancakes, nuts, fruits, honey, fish, and poultry. When people go into the forest, they arrange the first three mushrooms in a triangle as an offering or place the first mushrooms in a rotten tree while reciting a prayer. This is striking symbolism. The first and best gifts are what are given first and foremost to the invisible master of the place.

The forest is a moral space. Forest spirits expect proper behavior, and offerings are part of that proper behavior. The forest spirit is honored with food offerings intended to appease it: this is a way to soothe, acknowledge, and establish the right relationship with the being that “owns” this place. Offerings made when laying the foundation during construction appease the spirit that rules the place: whether it be a house, a grove, or a forest, human actions must be in harmony with the invisible power already present there.

The sacredness of the forest is reflected in the broader Slavic attitude toward trees and groves. The Slavs worshipped lesser spirits associated with the forest; they “worshipped specific trees,” or more precisely, the sacred spirits dwelling within them. The Slavs did not worship the tree itself, but rather the tree as the dwelling place of a god; associated groves were sites of sacrifice in early Slavic religion. Trees and forest groves are viewed as places where the presence of a deity was concentrated, localized, and ritually acknowledged.