Part One
Everything
we know about Jesus is tangled in myth. The narratives of his birth, and
childhood are complete fiction. Even the narrative of his adult ministry,
beginning around the year 30 C.E. is imbued with metaphor and allegory, so much
so that none of it is reliable as history. The narrative that we have received
from the tradition is so thoroughly syncretized to the broader cultural context
of the Near East that we do not even refer to him by his given name; Joshua,
but instead we call him by a Greek variant. If we desire to understand this
story, (as we should) understand how it came to be, we must engage that broader
narrative. We must engage the complete societal, and theological context from
which the Christian story emerged. We must journey beyond the Palestinian
crossroads that was ancient Judea, beyond the Greco-Roman world, we must go to
Persia. That is where the story begins, with Mithra.
The
“Cult of Mithras” is understudied. It is commonly regarded only as a competitor
of the early Christian Church. It was much more than that. Mithraic worship, as
it was practiced by the Romans, (principally by members of the Roman army) in
the first four centuries of the common era, has its roots in ancient Persia. It
is an offshoot of Zoroastrianism (c. 700 BCE),[1] evolving through the centuries until it reached
its final form as a “mystery cult” within the Roman army. Throughout its
evolution, propelled by the extensive influence of the Persian Empire, Mithraism
had a significant impact on every society it encountered, and every form of
worship in the Mediterranean region, the Near East, and Southwest Asia.
This
essay is an attempt to communicate the multiple ways by which Mithraism has influenced
the development of other faith traditions, most importantly the Judea-Christian
tradition, and most significantly our beliefs about Jesus.
Scholarship
on Mithraism is scant. Most scholarly research tends to downplay the connection
between the form of Mithraism that was practiced by the Roman army, and the
ancient form of Mithraism that was practiced in the heart of Persia. To justify
this, these scholars will site some obvious iconographic and liturgical
differences between the two forms of worship, as if to say that the presence of
a few notable, but subtle differences is enough to argue for a complete
separation, and distinction of the traditions, despite the greater number of obvious
similarities. The following paragraph from David Ulansey’s book The Origins
of the Mithraic Mysteries illustrates this point clearly. He says:
“The Western mystery cult of Mithraism as it
appeared in the Roman Empire derived its very identity from a number of
characteristics which were completely absent from the Iranian worship of
Mithra: a series of initiations into ever higher levels of the cult accompanied
by strict secrecy about the cult’s doctrines; the distinctive cave like temples
in which the cult’s devotees met; and, most important, the iconography of the
cult, in particular the tauroctony. None of these essential characteristics of
Western Mithraism were to be found in the Iranian worship of Mithra.[2]”
Some
of his Ulansey’s predecessors have suggested that the differences between the
Persian-Iranian form of Mithraism and that of the Roman army are the product of
natural transformations that occur in all belief systems as they move from one
cultural to another, across great expanses of geography, and time. His
particular criticisms have to do with extrinsic matters of form, and ritual
activity, which are the structures that we would expect to change over time and
distance. The seven stages of initiation, the tauroctony (slaying of the bull),
the codes of secrecy, and the type of temple worship have little to do with the
central tenets of Mithraism, the closely held beliefs that had existed from the
earliest times in Persia, through its final incarnation as a Roman mystery cult.
The central theme remains the same; a belief in the immortality of the soul,
and the notion of personal salvation.
Part Two
In the ancient Persian form Mithraism;
Mithra is a demi-god. He is viewed as the incarnated scion of Ahura-Mahzda, and
Ahura-Mahzda is believed to be the source of all goodness, creator of the
Universe, God of light, and source of life.
Some scholars believe that in its
original form; Mithraism was strictly monotheistic (perhaps the first truly
monotheistic belief system), holding that Ahura-Mahzda as the only deity, and
that there were no others. However, if Mithraism was originally monotheistic,
at some point in its evolution the belief system became dualistic. Another
deity was established through doctrine, as a counterpart to Ahura-Mahzda; together
they formed a pantheon of sorts. This secondary deity was given the name
Angra-Mainyu (from whose name we have been given the term anger). Angra-Mainyu
was believed to be the “uncreated” source of evil in the world, whose agency
was in diametric opposition to the light and life of Ahura-Mahzda.
This dualistic view of reality suggests
that the drama of our lives on Earth is a reflection of the struggle between
these two cosmic powers. This clearly defined dualism would be of great
relevance to both Judaism and Christianity in the centuries to come.
In the later form of Mithraism,
the Mithraism of the Roman Empire, the demi-god Mithra is again depicted in that
same relationship to the high God. In this cultural context, the high God is
given the name Sol Invictus, and is iconographically represented as the sun.
Mithra is the hero, demi-god and offspring of Sol.
In both the ancient Persian form
of Mithraism and the Roman form of Mithraism, the demi-god Mithra is seen as
being sent to Earth by the deity responsible for the creation of the universe. In
the former tradition this is Ahura-Mahzda, in the latter tradition Sol
Invictus. In the Roman form of Mithraism the purpose of sending Mithra to Earth
is for him to slay the “Primal Bull.” Upon slaying the bull, Mithra and Sol
Invictus feast together from its flesh. This feast has the effect that Mithra
and Sol become con-joined, because they have dined together, they are now “one.”
They are joined together as one being with coextensive attributes each sharing
the title Invictus, meaning unconquered. In Roman Mithraism this meal was
considered to be the effective means of salvation for all human beings, and
that by participating in a recreation of the sacred meal, properly sequenced through
the rites of initiation. the individual would become one with Mithra, and therefore
one with Sol Invictus, thereby gaining a place in the heavenly worlds of the
afterlife.
As I indicated earlier in my
reference to Ulansey’s work, Persian Mithraism did not depict Mithra as the “bull-slayer.”
The narrative from Persia is as follows: Mithra does not kill the primal-bull, rather
Mithra and the bull are sent to Earth by Ahura-Mahzda, where they are assailed
by the “evil-one.” Angra-Mainyu slays Mithra and the bull together, in an act
of violence. Angra-Mainyu attempts to destroy Mithra and the bull, but his
efforts are frustrated by Ahura-Mazda. Through the power of the god of light,
stalks of wheat, and the grape vine spring from the carcass of the bull. All
manner of good things, and good creatures flow from the bull to fill, and populate
the created world, and now are to be used for the benefit of human beings. Ahura-Mahzda
trasforms the violence of Angra-Mainyu into a new creation. New life springs
from the bull, Mithra is restored, and returns to Ahura-Mahzda in heaven.
There is no significant
discrepancy between these two forms of the myth. In both versions of the myth, Mithra
is sent to Earth by a God of greater authority than himself. In both versions of
the myth, the bull is slain and its death is productive; both of new life, and
of all good things on the Earth. In the Roman version of the myth, the slaying
of the bull is an explicit sacrifice. In the Persian version of the myth, the
intentionality of the sacrifice is implicit. The Roman version is not etiological,
it does not address the origins of life on Earth, the Persian version is. The
Roman version it is primarily a teleological myth having to do with human
destiny, salvation, and the life of the immortal soul, it is eschatological.
The Persian version balances these two concerns.
In the Persian account, Mithra
and the Bull are sent to Earth by the creator deity; their death is a vehicle
by which the drama of life on Earth begins, making it a myth of origins. Their
death, while being the result of violence perpetrated by the “evil-one” does
not serve the interest of Angra-Mainyu, but does serve the interest of
Ahura-Mahzda. Mithra does not die. His soul is immortal, and returns to heaven.
From the body of the bull comes an abundance of life, demonstrating that Ahura-Mahzda
is greater, because, not only having the power to create goodness sui generous (in itself), but also
having the power to bring good out of evil; making the fruit of the labor of
Angra-Mainyu effectively nothing. This profound hope is apparent within the
structure of myth itself. In both the Roman and the Persian versions of the
myth, the death of the primal bull is emblematic of life. It is the creation of
life itself. It is life restored.
The principal actor in both
versions of the myth is God. It is the creator, figured as either Ahura-Mahzda,
or Sol Invictus, respectively. Whether it is Mithra who kills the bull, or
Angra-Mainyu, that does not matter. The slaying of the bull serves the purpose
of the principal actor, Ahura-Mahzda/Sol Invictus, God of life, God of light,
God of good.
What is significant and most
consistent in the worship of Mithra from c. 700 BCE through c. 400 CE, from
Rome to Persia? It is the belief in the immortality of the soul, and the notion
of personal salvation. In Mithraism, this theology underwent a profound
development that would have a lasting and significant impact on other faith
traditions.
Part Three
There are several clues that we
can follow. They will help us understand the significance of Mithraism in
relation to other Mediterranean religions; especially Judaism and Christianity,
which we can uncover in the Hebrew and Christian scriptures.
A close study of the Hebrew
scriptures reveals that the Jewish people did not always have (and do not now
have) a strong belief either in the immortality of the soul, or the afterlife. However,
there was a period of time in which these beliefs did flourish.
After the Babylonian exile, which
began in 586 BCE, these beliefs enter their tradition, and over the centuries
become more clearly developed. When the Jewish people were released from
captivity in Babylon, it was by the Persians, under their king Cyrus,[3] who had
just recently conquered the Babylonians. Cyrus is depicted by the Jewish
people, in the Hebrew scriptures, as a servant of their God, Yahweh:
“22 In the first year of Cyrus king of
Persia—to fulfil the word of Yahweh through Jeremiah—Yahweh roused the spirit
of Cyrus king of Persia to issue a proclamation and to have it publicly
displayed throughout his kingdom. 23 ‘Cyrus king of Persia says this, “Yahweh, the God of Heaven,
has given me all the kingdoms of the earth and has appointed me to build him a
Temple in Jerusalem, which is in Judah. Whoever there is among you of all his
people, may his God be with him! Let him go up.”’[4]”
This passage
does not shed any light on what Cyrus’s theological disposition might have
actually been, or what his personal beliefs were. Whatever that theology was
(or was perceived to be), we can conclude that it did not present a significant
conflict with Hebrew theology at that time. This passage indicates that there
was no essential antagonism between the theological claims of these two
cultures. Furthermore, it is likely that Cyrus, or his priests, saw a
considerable amount of compatibility between their belief systems. At this time,
Persian Mithraism and Judaism were both essentially monotheistic, though
neither of them were perfectly so. They both held, as basic beliefs, that
creation was good. Mithraism had a strongly held belief in the immortality of
the soul. At this time Judaism did not, but immediately following this period a
movement within Judaism would develop this theme in profoundly consequential
ways. The adherents of this movement became known within the Judean world, as the
Pharisees. The designation Pharisee, is derived from the name of the Persian
priests of Zoroaster, who were called the Parsees. This etymology clearly shows
the intimate connection between Pharisaic Judaism, and the religious traditions
of the Persian Empire.
Even in Jesus’
time, 500 years after the Babylonian exile; belief in the immortality of the
soul had not fully entered the mainstream of Jewish life, especially inside the
borders of Judea itself. This belief was taught primarily by the Pharisees,
among groups of Jews living outside Judea, in what is known as the posy
Babylonian diaspora. It was taught by the Essenes, in the remote desert
community of Qumran. Belief in the immortality of the soul was popular among
Jewish people for whom the synagogue was the center of their faith life, and
not the temple in Jerusalem.
In addition to
belief in the immortality of the soul, the Pharisees and the Essenes of Qumran,
also had significantly developed angelologies. This belief in the existence of
angels (divine messengers) was another matter that took a long time to develop
in Judaism, but which was already present in Mithraism at the time of the
Babylonian exile. Many scholars say that it is impossible to state with certainty
that the Pharisees, received these teachings directly from the Parsees when
they were exposed to Mithraism at the time of the Babylonian captivity. It is
also impossible to rule it out. What we can say for certain, is that the
Pharisees came into existence just after the Babylonian exile. I do not believe
that these belief systems developed independently of one another, because I do
not believe in that type of coincidence, therefore I take the Pharisaic
movement within Judaism to be a case of pure theological syncretism.
The Babylonian
exile and the subsequent release of the Jewish people by the Persian king Cyrus
were the first of many major impacts that Mithraism would have on the
Judeo-Christian tradition. Prior to the Babylonian exile; a belief in angels
and the immortality of the soul did not exist as fully developed doctrines, but
they did exist in germ, in a latent form, as an aspect of generalized beliefs permeating
the Mediterranean region, and the Near East at this time.
It should be
noted that in most Mediterranean and Near Eastern traditions, the concept of a
blessed afterlife, to the extent that such ideas existed, included the idea that
those blessed places were reserved for people of heroic stature. Because common
people, and slaves did not have the ability to lead a heroic life, they had no
hope of enjoying a blessed state in the hereafter. Mithraism, and more
importantly Christianity would change all of that; by promising the hope of salvation
to anyone, regardless of gender, class, or status, if they sought to align
themselves with the God of creation, the God of light, and the God goodness,
through an initiation into their mysteries.
Part Four
In the first
century BCE, the most important center for Mithraic worship in the Hellenistic
world was in the region of Cilicia, in the city of Tarsus. Officially, the
patron deity of this city was the Greek demi-god Perseus, but as Ulansey points
out, Perseus as he was worshipped in Tarsus, was identical to the Persian Mithra
in almost every way. The Roman general Pompey, in his journals, points out the
fact that the people of Tarsus worship Mithra[5] and this
is the point of origin for the spread of the Cult of Mithra in the Roman world.
I want to
preface my discussion of the relationship between Mithra and Perseus with an
acknowledgement of the profuse pluralism at work in the Greco-Roman world at
this time. Parallels to Mithra and Perseus can be found in the stories of many
other heroes. Not all of the adventures attributed to Perseus should be
attributed to Mithra, and vice versa. In the Greco-Roman world, the gods and
heroes were regarded differently, in different cities, and different regions,
at different times. The heroes and gods in Greco-Roman mythology are extremely
malleable and blend with one another quite extensively. However, in Tarsus the
parallels between Mithra and Perseus go deep; as I will demonstrate:
“According to Plutarch, Mithraism
began among the pirates of Cilicia, the province bordering on the southern
coast of Asia Minor. These pirates, whose ships “numbered more than a thousand,
and the cities captured by them four hundred,” and whom Pompey was sent to
subdue in 67 BCE, “offered strange rites of there own at Olympus, and
celebrated there certain secret rites among which those of Mithras continue to
the present time having been first instituted by them.”..For our purposes, the
most important aspect of Plutarch’s evidence tracing the origins of Mithraism
to the region of Cilicia is the fact that Cilicia—and in particular its capitol
city of Tarsus—was the home of a deeply rooted cult of the hero Perseus.[6]”
Among the Greeks
Perseus is considered to be the founder of the city of Tarsus. Tarsus is the
city bearing the name of the “Primal-Bull,” Taurus. Perseus, like Mithra is
intimately linked to the sun, referred to as either: Apollo, Helios or Sol.
Sometimes Apollo is depicted as making oblations before Perseus, just as Sol is
sometimes depicted as kneeling before Mithra. Also, the order is at times
reversed with Mithra or Perseus kneeling before the deity representing the sun,[7] this is
done in keeping with the themes of mutuality, and co-extensive identity between
the two. The two are one.
In Greek
mythology Perseus is strongly connected with the Persian Empire. The Greeks
believed that his son, Perses, was the founder of the Persian Empire. Furthermore,
Perseus is always depicted as wearing a Phrygian cap indicating his Asiatic (read
Persian) origins.
“The evidence for a connection
between the figures of Mithras and Perseus is of three kinds: first, there is
the astronomical evidence consisting of the fact that the constellation Perseus
occupies a position in the sky exactly analogous to that occupied by Mithras in
the tauroctony; second, there are a number of striking iconographical and
mythological parallels between the two figures, such as Perseus’ Phrygian cap,
his connection with Persia, and the fact that like Perseus, Mithras always
looks away from his victim; third there is the historical-geographical evidence
linking the origins of Mithraism with Cilicia, the site of an important Perseus
cult.[8]”
The astronomical
evidence cited above concerns the fact that the constellation Mithra-Perseus is
located directly above the constellation of Taurus the bull, making it so that
if the two constellations are viewed together the figure of Mithra-Perseus is
seen kneeling on the back of the bull, sword in hand, ready to make the ritual
cut while looking away from the sacrificial victim, just as Mithra is always
depicted in the artwork of Mithraic temples, in the tauroctony.
These
similarities are too many to ignore. The Cults of Mithra, and Perseus were the
dominant cults of the city. Each of these Gods are depicted time, and time
again on Tarsian coins. Perseus is the patron deity of the city, and the city
itself is named after the “Primal Bull” of Mithraic worship. In the city of Tarsus, Mithra is Perseus, at
least insofar as they were worship.
The city of
Tarsus figures prominently in the syncretism between Mithraism and Christianity.
The origins of Tarsus were as a Hittite city in the second millennium BCE. The
Greek historian and geographer Strabo[9] notes
that it was a significant intellectual center “surpassing Athens and
Alexandria.” It was known for its astronomers and produced the renowned
philosophers Athenodorus and Nestor.[10] More significant
to our thesis is this, it was the birthplace, and home of Saint Paul, Apostle
to the Gentiles, a Jew, a Pharisee, and the most prominent writer of the early
Christian Church.
There is no
research explicitly stating that Paul was aware of, or was influenced by
Mithraism, but to suggest that Paul would not have been aware of the basic
tenets of belief promoted by the major Cult of the city he called home, that
would be improbable. Furthermore, Paul was a Pharisee. As I have already
indicated in my introduction to the origins of the Pharisaic sect; the beliefs that
Pharisees and Mithraites shared included beliefs about the immortality of the
soul, the notion of personal salvation, and the ministry of angels.
If Paul was not
directly influenced by Mithraism he was indirectly influenced by Mithraic ideas,
which we may conclude simply by virtue of the fact that Paul was a Pharisee. Furthermore,
the prominence of his ministry, its influence on Christian doctrine,
constitutes a second infusion of Persian cosmology and theology, and
soterieology on the Judeo-Christian tradition, the first being located within the
timeframe of the Babylonian exile, and diaspora. Mithraism influenced the
Judeo-Christian tradition, first through the teachings of the Pharisaic sect in
general, second through the teaching of St. Paul of Taursus (himself a
Pharisee). I do not contend that through Mithraism anything substantially “new”
was imparted to the burgeoning Christian movement, but that the prevailing ideas
of the “Persian-Mithraic worldview” were syncretized and concretized.
Part Five
By the fourth
century CE Mithraism had spread both by merchants, and through the Roman army
as far North as Hadrian’s wall in Bremenium, as far West as Olisipo on the
Western coast of Spain; it had permeated the Roman provinces of North Africa,
and Egypt, and it was thriving in its
home land of Persia; stretching its influence all the way through Persia to
India. As much as two percent of the population of the Roman Empire may have
been initiated into the mysteries of the Cult of Mithra.
The traditional
date to celebrate the birth of Mithra, going back as far as 750 BCE, is a date
significant in the Roman calendar known as Saturnalius, December 25th.
This date is also the celebrated birthday of such notable people as Julius
Caesar, his son by adoption Caesar Augustus, as well as the first Christian
emperor, Constantine; and most famously Jesus of Nazareth. The fact that all of
these people shared the same birthday does not constitute proof of anything
regarding the relationship between Mithraism and Christianity. The Romans used
a different calendar in those days, and in that time December 25th
was the date of the winter solstice. It was celebrated in nearly every culture
in the Northern hemisphere, because it is that point in the yearly cycle that
the light returns, the days get longer, and the deepest dark recedes.
The Cult of
Mithra was a “mystery religion,” meaning that it was secretive, closed to
outsiders, closed to anyone that did not go through a significant ritual of
initiation. Like other mystery religions, it purported to disclose to its
initiates, the mysteries of the universe.
Outside of
Persia, the main adherents of the Cult of Mithra were members of the Roman
army. There is no evidence that Mithraites were ever persecuted as Christians
were, but like a number of other closed societies in ancient Rome, they had to
keep to themselves and guard their secrets. The necessity of secrecy for the
cult of Mithra, as with that of many other cults, had much to do with the paranoid
mindset of the Roman emperors. All manner of private groups, trade guilds, and
burial societies, were periodically outlawed by one emperor or another; this on
account of the fact that most of the emperors were insecure in their power, and
were constantly suspicious of treason. The fact that the Cult of Mithra
recruited many of its members from the army probably spared it from persecution
because the emperors always ruled by fragile alliances, and loose coalitions
with the army. They were always dependent on the power of the armies to keep
them in the seat of power. If the emperors were to alienate large groups of
their supporters (the army) through a persecution of their faith, it was
guaranteed that they would lose power.
As I noted
earlier, Ulansey saw the secrecy of the cult of Mithra, as practiced in the
Roman Empire as something distinct from the Persian form of Mithraism. There
are differences between the two systems of belief, but not so great as to merit
the claim that they are distinct from one another. A close look at the
structure of these religious systems; their icons, rituals and beliefs will
reveal crucial things about that relationship, and also concerning the close
relationship between Mithraism and Christianity.
Part Six
In the Persian
form of Mithraism (also referred to as Zoarastrianism), the priests were called
Parsees. Outside of Persia they were known as the Magi. It is from the Magi
that we have derived the term magic.
In the Roman
form of Mithraism; the chief of a Mithraic temple was called father. To be a “father,”
the individual had to have risen through all seven stages of Mithraic initiation.
The Magi are of
historical significance to the history of Christianity. Magi are present in the
infancy narrative of Matthew. They give witness to the birth of Jesus. In the
Gospels they were presented as wise men, and astronomers, just as the priests
of Mithras and Zoroaster were purported to be. Because the infancy narrative of
Matthew is myth, and not an accurate retelling of history, the presence of the
Magi in his narrative is not accidental. It is purposeful and it definitely
indicates a sympathetic relationship between early Christians, and first century
CE Mithraites.
Why would a
sympathetic relationship exist?
Both Christians
and Mithraites believed in the immortality of the soul, the reality of personal
salvation, the ministry of the angelic host, a God of goodness and light, as
well as a final battle with the cosmic forces of darkness, sin, and evil.
In the Roman
world, by the first century CE, Mithra had taken on the aspect of the incarnate
son of Sol. Furthermore, in his exalted state, after the feast made from the
“Primal Bull,” Mithra is seen as being identical to Sol. Mithra like Christ is
seen as being a mediator between Heaven and Earth, responsible for guiding the
souls of the elect to paradise. The se iconographic similarities explain the sympatico
between the two faiths.
Ulansey stated
that the worship of Mithra in caves, as it was done among the Romans, was
markedly distinct from the Persian form of worship, saying that we cannot
explain this as something that occurred by way of a natural syncretic
transformation. However, there is a clear path of transformation that can be
marked out through the cult of Perseus. As noted earlier through the
iconography in the city of Tarsus, Perseus and Mithra are one and the same.
Perseus is the
son of the Olympian Zeus, and the human Danae. When Zeus impregnates Danae he
comes to her in the form of a shower of gold; not in the form of a human being,
or other animal (as was often the case with Zeus). The impregnation of Danae is
the only scene like this in all of the Greek mythologies. Zeus impregnates
Danae in his spirit form, through the use of the ephemeral, and exalted “shower
of gold,” the most idealized and spiritual form Zeus could take. The
impregnation of Danae in this manner, and the subsequent birth of Perseus, is
the closest thing in all of the Greek mythologies to a “virgin birth,” a
conception narrative analogous to that of Mary conceiving Jesus by the Holy
Spirit.
Danae gives
birth to Perseus in an underground cavern. In astronomy the figure of Taurus
(the Primal Bull) is the primary symbol of earth. Insofar as Mithra is
transformed and exalted through the death and “new-life” of the bull, Mithra is
also born of the earth. As a result, the iconographic narratives of the births
of both Perseus and Mithra, often depict them as emerging from a rock. And it
is not unreasonable to suppose that the underground worship of Mithra served to
highlight these features. The earth is the womb wherein we are nurtured, and from
which we are born, like Mithra, like Perseus, we are born into new life.[11]
The worship of
Mithra in underground caverns had the effect of limiting Mithraic circles to
small groups of people. The worship of Mithra is thought to have been
exclusively male, though some scholars believe that in some regions women had
their own form of Mithraic devotion.
In army outposts,
at the fringes of the Empire, the worship chambers were often very small, consisting
of a narrow room with rows of benches. In urban centers the size and splendor
of the temples varied with the demographics of the cities they were in, from
simple to ostentatious. However, most worship places were small, and intimate.
The intimacy of these temples bears a close similarity to the “house churches”
of the early Christians. Many of the Mithraic temples found in Roman cities,
such as Ostia, were later converted to Christian worship.
Part Seven
Among the
Romans, Mithraism, like Christianity was centered in the “house church.” The
practice was carried out among people who were intimate with one another. Individual
practitioners believed that initiation into the mysteries allowed them to receive
immortality through Mithra, but also as a part of a community. Mithraism, like
Christianity promoted the notion that its teachings would transform the
individual spiritually, while leaving them in the same social position. The
transformation of the individual was interior. It took place in the heart. It manifested
itself in their position in the life of the Mithraic temple, or Mithraic shrine,
as they advanced through the stages of initiation, but that did not mean that
their status, or rank, outside of the Mithraic community would change. A slave
would remain a slave, a plebian would remain a plebian. The activities of the
cult were closed to the general society, they were secret and mysterious, and therefore
not a cause for disturbance in the social order outside of the community.
In Roman Mithraism
there were seven stages of initiation; the Crow, the Griffin, the Soldier, the
Lion, the Persian, the Helio-Dromus (or Sun-Runner), and
finally the Father. The symbolism of the number seven should not be lost on us,
as in Christianity, there are seven sacraments, seven virtues, seven deadly
sins etc…
The Order of Initiates
were grouped in two classes; those in the first four stages counted as one
class, and the last three stages counted as another class. An initiate would
move through the stages of initiation until he became one with the Father, and
thus become the Father himself. At each stage of initiation, the initiate would
learn a secret code that later, after death, would be used to get him into the heavenly
realm appropriate to his rank. This belief in ranked heavenly planes, and secret
passwords that would allow the individual through the gate of paradise, was
widely believed among practitioners of Hebrew Kabala (coming out of the
Pharisaic Sect), as well as among groups of Christians who had fallen into the
heretical errors of Gnosticism.
A ceremony of initiation
was called a Telete, from the Greek
word telos, meaning goal or end. In
the ceremony of initiation, the initiate would first kneel before the Father.
The Father would then perform a “laying on of hands,” followed by a rite
similar to baptism, wherein the Father would pour water over the head of the
initiate from the horn of a bull. Sometimes the rite of water would be done by
full immersion.
In cases where
the ceremony of initiation was accompanied by an actual animal sacrifice, the
initiate would be splattered with the blood of the sacrificial animal, or
slapped in the face with a shank of meat. In other cases the blood would be
replaced by wine. This rite of blood, wine, or water is referred to as the
purgation, a ritual cleansing of the individual from their sins. Sometimes the
ceremony of purgation would be completed by passing a torch over the head of the
individual, or even touching the individual with the torch in order to
symbolize a baptism of both fire and water. The purgation would be followed by
the consecration or coronation where a golden crown would be placed on the head
of the initiate; this crown was called the “solar crown.” Iconographically the
solar crown was analogous to the Christian halo, which term is derived from the
Greek; meaning disk of the sun.
There is much in
this symbolism that recalls Christian rituals of initiation; so much that I
will not even make an argument for how intimately linked the two systems of
ritual initiation are. I will simply let the record speak for itself.
In Roman
Mithraism, the initiation ceremony would be followed by a feast meant to
symbolize the feast shared by Mithra and Sol. Ideally, the feast would come
from the sacrifice of a bull, but this feast was not required. While the
sacrifice of a bull was central to Mithraic worship, as the cult spread through
the empire, and as worship became confined to house churches, it is thought the
sacrifice of the bull was replaced with a symbolic alternative. Any animal
could serve for the feat, or even a meal of bread and wine. Because the death
of the “Primal Bull” was productive of all “good things” on the Earth; any of
those “good things” that come from the bull were suitable to be used in the
sacred meal. This meal itself, much like the Christian Eucharist, was thought
to be an effective means of salvation for the worshippers of Mithra.[12]
In Conclusion
Among the
Romans, the first Christian emperor was Saint Constantine, Constantine the
Great, who, prior to his death-bed conversion to Christianity, was also a
devotee of Mithras-Sol Invictus. When Constantine was made emperor, the first
coins struck in his honor depicted his face with the inscription Sol Invictus. Constantine
thought that he was himself, an incarnation of Sol Invictus. This may seem
somewhat confusing considering that we know that Constantine attributed his
victory over his enemies to Jesus Christ. Constantine’s famous vision of the Christian
symbol, the Chi-Ro (Px), at the battle of the Milvian bridge (312 CE), is
thought to have enabled his victory when his army was at the gates of Rome. However,
in the minds of many practitioners of Mithraism, Jesus and Mithra may have been
considered to have been the same person; believing that Jesus was an
incarnation of Mithra. If this is true, it begs the question; if Constantine
thought he was Mithra-Sol Invictus, and if Jesus was also believed to be an
incarnation of Mithra, did Constantine think that he was Christ?
One thing that I
know for sure, Christianity and Mithraism, as religious and spiritual
philosophies, are both filled with hope. Hope for the life of the individual;
hope that the individual will ultimately experience justice. Belief that God is
good, and that God has given a light to humankind that will guide us in the way
to paradise.
Mithraism was
less accessible to the average person than Christianity. Mithraism wanted to
keep to its secret ways, at a time when Christianity was opening itself to the
world, defining the terms of its orthodoxy, and rooting out those groups of
heretics, the Gnostics, who had those same tendencies toward secrecy and
exclusion.
Bibliography
Mithraic Iconography and Ideology, by Leroy A.
Campbell, published by E. J. Brill, 1968
Mithraic Studies, edited by John R. Hinnells, published
by Manchester University Press, 1975
Mithraism in Ostia, edited by Samuel Laeuchli,
published by Northwestern University Press, 1967
The Mithras Liturgy, edited and translated by Marvin W.
Meyer, published by Scholars Press, 1976
Mysteries of Mithras, by Franz Cumont, translated by
Thomas J. McCormack, published by The Open Court Publishing Company, 1903
The New Jerusalem Bible, Standard Edition, published by
Doubleday, 1989
The Origins of the Mithraic Mysteries, by David
Ulansey, published by Oxford University Press, 1989
The New Oxford Companion to the Bible, edited by Bruce
M. Metzger and Michael D. Coogan, published by Oxford University Press, 1993
The Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church, edited
by F. L. Cross and E. A. Livingstone, published by Oxford University Press,
1997
[1] By
700 BCE the Royal court of Persia had fully converted to the religion of
Zoroastrianism and its demi-god Mithra. However, Zoroastrianism likely emerged
sometime between 2500 – 1200 BCE.
[2] The
Origins of the Mithraic Mysteries, by David Ulansey, pg. 8, par. 4
[3] The
New Oxford Companion to the Bible, edited by Bruce M. Metzger and Michael
D. Coogan, pg.72, par. 3
[4] The
New Jerusalem Bible, standard edition, Doubleday, 2 Chronicles 36: 22-23,
pg. 448, col. 2, par. 2
[5] The
Origins of the Mithraic Mysteries, by David Ulansey, pg. 40, par. 1
[6] The
Origins of the Mithraic Mysteries, by David Ulansey, pg. 40, par. 1 and pg.
41, par. 3
[7] The
Origins of the Mithraic Mysteries, by David Ulansey, pg. 44, par. 1
[8] The
Origins of the Mithraic Mysteries, by David Ulansey, pg. 45, par. 2
[9]
Strabo 64 B.C.E. – 21 C.E.
[10] The
Origins of the Mithraic Mysteries, by David Ulansey, pg. 68
[11] The
Origins of the Mithraic Mysteries, by David Ulansey, pg. 34-36
[12] Mithraic
Iconography and Ideology, by Leroy A. Campbell, pgs. 291-305
