Setianism Predates “The Left-Hand Path”

On the conflation of all Setian spirituality with what Western occultists call “the left-hand path,” and why this is problematic.

 

Setianism is often linked with something Western occultists call “the left-hand path,” and this is thanks largely to the Temple of Set. The term originates from Hindu and Buddhist Tantra, in which the Vama Marga or “left-handed way” to enlightenment involves practices that most orthodox believers find “repugnant” (e.g., erotic mysticism). Helena Blavatsky, the founder of Theosophy, appropriated the name for virtually any kind of Western occultism she didn’t like. Ever since then, it has been evocative of “black magic” and “devil worship.”

Most other occult writers followed Blavatsky’s example in this respect, including Aleister Crowley, the founder of Thelema (who was himself regarded as a “brother of the left-hand path” by many of his contemporaries due to his controversial views and practices). The first Western writer to actually adopt the left-hand path (or “LHP” for short) as a positive self-label was Kenneth Grant, a protege of Crowley’s who developed his own “Typhonian” school of Thelema. Grant’s philosophy hinges on Set rather than Horus, and it has much to do with contacting qliphothic forces from alternate universes via the use of sexual magic. Grant was also a UFOlogist and a pioneer in Lovecraftian occultism, or the use of H.P. Lovecraft’s “Cthulhu Mythos” in actual esoteric practice. His use of the term “left-hand path” is probably the closest I have seen among Western sources to the original Tantric idea of the Vama Marga (perhaps because Grant studied under an actual Indian guru, Ramana Maharshi).

The next Western writer to adopt the left-hand path was Anton LaVey, founder of the Church of Satan. LaVey conceptualized the LHP as being like a carnival huckster’s take on spirituality: it’s all “make-believe,” we are just meat machines that cease to exist upon death, and there are no actual gods or spirits to hear any of our prayers. But at the same time, there is nothing wrong with all of this “make-believe” so long as it enriches and empowers the “believer.” In LaVey’s worldview, conventional religions (“the right-hand path”) use made-up dogmas to control the masses, while the left-hand path uses such fantasy to liberate the individual instead. Success is measured not by any spiritual advancement, but by purely material milestones. For example, a successful actor or musician would be considered far more adept at “the black arts” than someone who can recite each of the Enochian Keys by heart, but who flips burgers at McDonald’s for a living.

Michael Aquino, the founder of the Temple of Set, developed a radically different construct from that of LaVey. His LHP is a more metaphysical process of “immortalizing the psyche,” with the potential achievement of a sentient afterlife being the ultimate goal. For Aquino and his followers, the problem with conventional religion is that it stifles the powers of the mind, leading to a total dissolution of consciousness after death. If people just ditched such creeds and started exercising their minds intellectually and metaphysically, they’d have a much better chance of becoming discarnate alien intelligences when they die—or so the theory goes. If there is one element of LaVeyan belief that Aquino maintained, it is the claim that authentic LHPers do not actually “worship” any of the forces they evoke in their magic (including Set Himself). Aquino’s take centers on worshiping one’s own highest potential to the exclusion of anyone or anything else that might (or might not) exist.

Many additional Western LHP perspectives would bloom over the following decades, including those of Zeena and Nikolas Schreck, Michael W. Ford, and Thomas Karlsson. Notable themes that many sects seem to share include autotheism (the worship of oneself); an indiscriminate affinity for so-called “dark” forces (like conflating Set with Apep); an intersection of Gnosticism, hedonism, nihilism, and/or anti-cosmicism; and a rather unfortunate disposition toward right-wing sociopolitical ideologies (from American Libertarianism to outright National Socialism). The very worst example of this would be the Order of the Nine Angles, whose supporters are known to be terrorists and white supremacists. Even among LHPers who do not entertain such views seriously, there is an ugly tendency to glorify fascist imagery (often because it is “shocking” or “cool”), going all the way back to Anton LaVey’s inclusion of “Might is Right” (a racist diatribe by Ragnar Redbeard) in 1969’s The Satanic Bible.

Though many Setians identify as “left-hand path,” not all of us do. Part of the confusion on this stems from the fact that many Setian writers are either Temple of Set members or adherents to some variation of its philosophy. This has always been something of a “pet peeve” for me personally, because I think the word Setian really belongs to Set. It is understood that not all Setians will believe or practice the same way, as Set loves variety and freedom. But if any particular theme should be the one common element that we all share, that theme is and must be SET HIMSELF—not the Book of the Law, The Nightside of Eden, the Satanic Bible, or the Book of Coming Forth By Night. This does not preclude Setians from sharing additional interests; but Set was there long before Vama Marga, Typhonian Thelema, LaVeyan Satanism, the Temple of Set, or any other LHP variant, and a person doesn’t need EITHER of those things to know Set and walk with Him. To claim otherwise is to ignore the fact that Setianism began over five millennia ago as a North African animist and polytheist tradition in which our Namesake was clearly revered and venerated (as He deserves to be).

Which returns us to the matter of right-wing ideological influences in Western LHP circles. This rather disgusting tendency is made all the more revolting whenever it happens to manifest among so-called “Setians.” For one thing, Set is an Egyptian god, and the Egyptians were a North African people. They were PEOPLE OF COLOR, you idiots. We owe everything to them, too; there is not a single white person who would be walking with any of the Netjeru today if it hadn’t been for these blessed ancestors. So if you pay lip service to an Egyptian god while supporting white supremacy, you are a fucking idiot and you deserve to have your ass handed to you. Furthermore, Set is the absolute WORST mascot for any kind of fascist cause, given that His hatred for authoritarianism is purer than venom. We call Him “He Who Commands the Riot” for a reason, you know. Set is a god who smites other gods whenever they need smiting, and He has even less patience with human megalomaniacs. If you take His name but support tyranny, you are no Setian; you are just a servant of Apep in disguise—and we Setians know just how to deal with Apep!

Not today, Apoop!

I’m willing to bet that most of Set’s people today are probably Kemetics or some other flavor of devotional polytheist—or at least, that is how it looks across the internet (which is probably a better reflection of things today than it was in the 1990s). We devotionalists have just as much right to Set’s name as any Thelemite, Satanist, or Chaos Magician (if not more), and I for one insist on taking ownership of the term Setian for this reason. LHPers are welcome to walk with Set too in my book, but they are NOT welcome to look down their noses at those of us who actually revere and venerate Him as the ancients did. And those who favor any of that “might is right” fuckery should just pack their shit and leave. It seems egregiously stupid that I should even have to say this to anyone, but y’all are just gonna have to live with the fact that there are Setians who worship and pray to Set, who are animists and polytheists, and who believe in trying to make things better for everyone, not just ourselves.

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On the So-Called “Demonization” of Evangelicals

My reactions to an especially hypocritical plea for “acceptance” on behalf of a community that utterly refuses to accept diversity.

 

From ReligionNews.com:

“White evangelicals must bear their share of responsibility for both racism and Christian nationalism, so I have no argument with these careful, well-researched critiques.

I do take issue with these legitimate criticisms becoming a license for others to marginalize, even demonize, white evangelical Christians. White evangelicals are routinely and unfairly stereotyped, lumped together in the basket of deplorables with the neo-Nazi marchers in Charlottesville and other supremacists. Some may think it’s not possible to be bigoted against a group that is so closely associated with the historical trajectory of power in America. I disagree.”

My response:

No one should ever be marginalized or demonized just for being who they are, but there is a huge difference between this and calling people out for their behavior when it is demonstrably unethical (to say the very least). It is understood that not every evangelical Christian is an asshole who wants to legislate other people’s lives and deprive them of their inalienable rights; but this is the exception, not the rule. And since the entire evangelical community decided to support Trump in his rise to power, they have little room to complain about being “lumped together” with the rest of his supporters. Whether you support Trump because you’re a Christian or a Nazi, it makes no difference, the end result is exactly the same, and it has proven extremely harmful to everyone who ISN’T an evangelical or a white supremacist.

Furthermore, hearing evangelicals whine and cry about being “unfairly stereotyped” is just fucking hilarious. These are the exact same people who distribute literature claiming that Pagans and witches want to sacrifice babies, or that Planned Parenthood is run by genocidal murderers, or that the entire LGBTQ community is possessed by Satan. Do you really want to go down this path? Because if we’re keeping score on “unfair stereotypes” here, evangelicals continue to perpetuate FAR more than their fair share.

“White evangelicals are certainly complicit in our country’s history of systemic racism and overt nationalism, but I offer three reasons why transparent prejudice against them offers no way forward. First, this prejudice reduces a large, complex group to their political activities; the philosophical term is “essentialism.” In a mass culture dominated by Amazon, Netflix, Google, Harvard and MIT, evangelical ideas barely register, other than as stock villains and straw men. But in politics they loom larger, so the mainstream culture defines them entirely by their political activities and seek to “cancel” them.”

Check your privilege, dude. There are areas of this country where evangelicals hold all the cards when it comes to the law. I know because I lived in such an area for 10 years, and it was absolute hell. If evangelical Christians do not want to be “reduced” to their political activities, they should become less political and stop trying to impose their morality on all the rest of us. If you don’t believe in abortions, don’t get one; but don’t make it impossible for anyone else to get one. You people have no business trying to legislate other people’s lives, and so long as you refuse to stop attacking our freedoms, you will continue to face severe criticism and pushback. (You lie in the bed you make!)

It is also ironic that this writer complains of evangelicals being “reduced” to just their politics when this is exactly what EVANGELICALS do to all the rest of us. For example, evangelicals generally do not characterize LGBTQ people as human beings with valid concerns and perspectives; they dismiss them as some kind of “unholy conspiracy” that’s out to destroy civilization as we know it. And when those of us who love our LGBTQ family and friends try to correct religious right-wingers on this matter, we are usually dismissed for “becoming political.” I’m sorry, but fighting for my transgender nephew’s right to self-identify as he pleases, or for my best friend’s right to marry the woman she loves, or for my wife’s right to determine what she does with her own body is not a matter of “politics.” It is a simple matter of human decency, being a good person, and protecting the people I love. When evangelicals use such dehumanizing language against us, they signal to us that they do not even acknowledge us as people.

Additionally, evangelical Christians have no concept whatsoever of what it feels like to be “canceled.” Having people disagree with you and oppose your political platforms does not count as “canceling.” The only way you can be “canceled” is if you are never permitted to speak or share your opinion with anyone at all – and that is simply not the case for evangelicals, at least not here in America. When you have entire publishing companies, AM radio stations, and 24-hour TV networks to support your cause, you are not hurting for representation whatsoever. So stop trying to play the victim here, you aren’t fooling anyone dude.

“Second, many evangelicals, far from seeking out division, are the salt of the earth. They donate time and energy to their churches, but also to strangers, including strangers in other countries, where they are well known for fighting sex trafficking and providing clean water. They are conscientious parents, church members and Little League coaches. They are honest businesspeople. If racism is systemic, well, they are not the elites who own the systems. They don’t see themselves as racist because, to them, racism is a matter of personal attitude. They don’t see themselves as nationalists either, or if they do, their definition is more akin to what the rest of us call patriotism.”

Oh yes, evangelical missionaries are SO fucking noble. That is precisely why they continue to endanger indigenous cultures despite the COVID-19 pandemic (and all for the sake of winning more converts, i.e. political allies). And while the missionaries do fight sex-trafficking and provide clean water and other good works like that, they also do everything they can to DECULTURALIZE the people they help, insisting that their ancestral religious traditions are “satanic” and they must accept “the White Man’s God” in order to become truly “civilized.” Next thing you know, the new converts start hanging or burning accused “witches” in their communities (including little children!) because “God told them to,” and white evangelicals continue to shirk any responsibility for this whatsoever. Do you really expect anyone to believe you aren’t racist when you engage in such blatant modern colonialism?

“Lastly, marginalizing and demonizing this group is politically untenable. White evangelical Christians make up about 25% of the U.S. population, around 85 million people. When this election is over, they will still be here. And they will still be deeply intertwined in American life. These folks are our fellow-citizens, part of our country’s lifeblood. We need to be building bridges toward evangelicals of goodwill, not burning them.”

Can you point us to a substantial example of when evangelicals ever tried building bridges of goodwill toward Pagans, LGBTQ people, or feminists en masse? You have completely misplaced the responsibility for “making amends,” here. That burden rests squarely on the shoulders of evangelicals, not on anyone else’s. We do not owe evangelicals any apologies or reparations; THEY owe US the apologies and reparations, instead. But I am not going to hold my breath waiting for THAT to ever happen, given your community’s record for “doing the right thing.”

“But America cannot be rebuilt without white evangelical Christians. Excoriating them for the sake of Twitter likes only moves us in the wrong direction. Look for common ground. Acknowledge others’ attempts to eradicate personal prejudice even as you seek to educate yourself and others about systemic discrimination. Look for the fine line between the nationalism you fear and the patriotism you value. Take note of the positive contributions made by others, even when they believe, and vote, differently than you.”

This fellow seems absolutely determined to believe that no one could ever have a good reason for ripping on evangelical Christians. When an entire religious community seeks to deprive you of your autonomy and your freedom, we have little choice but to regard that community as an enemy. If evangelical Christians would like this situation to change, the responsibility is on THEM to BE BETTER. They can have their beliefs and live their lives the way they want to without interfering with any of the rest of us; but they consistently choose not to, and THAT is why we are angry. Gaslighting us with your empty-hearted appeals for “understanding” and “acceptance” is nothing more than a diversion. This is not a “both sides” issue, this is an issue of one side CLEARLY BEING WRONG and the other being consistently victimized.

Now REPENT, motherfuckers!

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Setian Meditations

Three brief sermons in which I discuss Set’s affinity for the color red, why Setianism is substantially different from many other religions, and how the Red Lord saves us all every night.

 

Red isn’t just a color; it’s a part of Set Himself. Or to put it another way, the Red Lord doesn’t just “like” the color red; He is the very essence of redness.

Within the spectrum of visible light, red exists between orange (where red meets yellow) and violet (where red meets blue). Technically, its wavelength is approximately 620–740 nanometers on the electromagnetic spectrum. It has historically been associated with aggression, blood, heat, lust, and passion. It’s also linked to the planet Mars and the sphere of Geburah on the Qabalic Tree of Life. Mars, of course, is named after the Roman God of war, who is often conflated with the Greek God Ares. (Hence why Mars is so often associated with hostile alien space invaders, as in H. G. Wells’ The War of the Worlds.) Geburah is where the gods pass judgment and destroy things, causing us all to be transformed (whether we want to be or not). It’s also the sphere where the gods take whatever steps they need to beat the crap out of evil.

Red is further linked to iron, which is likely because (1) there is actually iron in our blood and (2) Late Stone Age people often used ochre, a clay that is given a reddish tint by iron oxide. Even today, tribal peoples still use ochre to treat animal skins, repel insects, stop bleeding, and protect themselves from the sun. Red also continues to be the preferred color for warnings and danger signs (both in human society and in nature), with the highest threat levels being “red alerts.”

The Egyptians associated Set with red because He is a storm deity. While most Thunder Gods are linked with fertility and kingship due to the part storms usually play in fertilizing crops, storms almost never occur in the Nile Valley. The crops there are sufficiently irrigated by the Nile itself when it floods each year; so even when storms do happen, they tend to have disastrous consequences. They more often occur in the deserts on either side of the Nile Valley, the sands of which are colored red (making Set “the Lord of the Red Lands”). Red-haired animals and people were likewise linked with Set as well, and by the time He was completely demonized during the Late Period, it wasn’t uncommon for such animals and people to be killed as a way of execrating Him. Redheads continued to be demonized by European Christians, who thought such people were especially prone to “worshiping the devil” and becoming “witches.” This construct came from the Egyptians, who considered Set to be the original “red-headed stepchild.”

In many Typhonian spells from the Greek magical papyri, the directions call for magic words to be written in donkey’s blood (which is often described as “Typhon’s blood”). In the LV-426 Tradition, we think that harming any of Set’s sacred critters will definitely draw His attention to you, but not in a way that any sane or rational person would want. I do, however, think that the more red things you can include in your rituals, the better. I prefer to light red candles for the Big Guy, myself.


What does it mean to be “religious”? The answer to this question is much more nuanced and evasive today than it was hundreds of years ago.

When I use this descriptor in relation to myself, it often catches people off guard because I just “don’t seem like the religious type.” I don’t attend any kind of church, take any scriptures literally, try to convert people, or seek to legislate other people’s lives. I also cuss like a sailor and tend to be hypercritical of organized religion in general (to the point of supporting the strict taxation of all churches).

Some people dismiss my religiosity for just these reasons, because their definition of “religion” is limited to the conservative Christian model. And since my religion does not fit within those specific parameters, people always want to tell me I am “spiritual, not religious” at best.

Excuse me, but let’s make something perfectly clear: I am a SETIAN, and SET is my god. I do what I do out of profound reverence and devotion to HIM. The only theological expectations I care to meet are HIS; the standards of other faiths DO NOT APPLY.

Furthermore, Set is not some bullshit authoritarian shepherd god; He has nothing to do with giving commandments, judging humanity for its sins, or bullying anyone with the threat of a miserable afterlife. Set is a cosmic individualist in the truest possible sense of the term; He demands not only freedom for Himself, but for EVERY sentient individual to be the unique and different creature they really are. And even in 3200 BCE, this included everyone from foreigners and immigrants to LGBTQ people to nomadic desert peoples to others who just “didn’t fit in” for whatever reason (especially if they were redheads).

Set is a god who approves of having drag queens read books to children at public libraries, for instance, while contemporary Christians still quarrel over whether Jehovah even accepts such lovely people as human beings. So do not presume to judge MY religiosity according to YOUR (highly questionable) standards. As far as Setians like me are concerned, your own religious priorities are absolutely fucked!

As for the “spiritual but not religious” crowd, I fully support everyone’s right to self-identify as they please. I reject this label myself, for it simply doesn’t do me justice. Walking with Set is not a “hobby” or a “game,” it’s a motherfuckin’ QUEST that takes your entire life, and which continues long after you die! I will not belittle myself, my god, or the magic we work together by referring to it as anything else BUT religious. And those who want to bash all religion in general because “it’s all the same” can kindly kiss my ass.


With respect to the

Wise Donkey  from L. Frank Baum’s The Magical Monarch of Mo.

“Have I been saved? Yes; in fact, my god saves me every day. He saves you every day, too, even though you don’t believe. The fact that the world is still here when we wake up each morning—that we don’t all just blink right out of existence while we’re asleep—is a direct result of His operations out there, on the Frontier of Creation. He’s out there right now, fighting for all of us. He doesn’t care if you’re strong or weak, noble or corrupt, pious or irreligious. Nor does He care that most people vilify Him, if they acknowledge Him at all. Whether He is cursed as a devil or dismissed as a fairy tale, it makes no difference to Him. It’s neither His job nor His concern to judge the world. Even if no one ever rooted for Him at all, my god would still be out there, saving the whole of Creation each night!

“Don’t get me wrong; He does notice those mortals who call out to Him in praise. Given that there are so few of us, it would be hard for Him not to! And though He has His own battles to fight, He shares His strength and His steel with us. When we have tribulations that are too much for us to bear alone, we can ask Him for strength and clarity of vision. We can use our words of power to actually become Him in human flesh, and nothing—not even the Chaos Serpent itself—can stand against us when we do! When we perform this Great Work, we are saving our own little parts of the world. With our Holy Father, salvation becomes a team effort; our victories are His, and His victories are ours!

That is why Set, alone of all the gods, has my undying loyalty. That is why the subjective realities of other faiths can just never compare to mine. There are no threats, no guilt trips, and no extortions here. It all comes down to just one thing, baby: making sure there’s always tomorrow!”

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Nephthys, the Dark Midwife

The sister and ex-wife of Set is a renowned healer of wounded hearts and minds.

 

Even more than Ishtar or Taweret, Nephthys is the goddess who is most often linked with Set. In fact, some people might be wondering why it’s taken me 40 whole episodes before I got around to discussing Her. Truth is, I wanted to highlight the aforementioned goddesses first because Their interactions with Set are far less known. I also think Set and Nephthys share a much more complex relationship than what is typically imagined about god and goddess couples, for reasons I shall explain.

The name of this goddess, which comes from the Egyptian Nebet-Het, means “Lady of the House.” It refers to a temple enclosure, rather than a domestic residence. In the Heliopolitan cosmogony, Nephthys is one of the fourth generation of Netjeru (the others being Osiris, Isis, Set, and even Horus in some accounts). As such, She is one of the divinities who facilitate life here on earth, and who contributes to the arts of human civilization.

The fourth generation of gods was somewhat disruptive to the natural order of things at first. There is even a story about Ra, the first Netjer, prohibiting their granddaughter, the sky goddess Nut, from giving birth to these young’uns (despite already being pregnant). Thankfully, the wise god Thoth finds a technicality that allows Nut to have her children while still technically obeying Ra’s decree. So first it was just Ra, and all things were united in them. Then Ra begat Shu and Tefnut, the breath and the waters of life, who are the first male and female. After that, Shu and Tefnut begat another male and female, Nut and Geb, the deities of heaven and earth. While Ra themself is hermaphroditic, the second and third theological generations are dichotomous, falling into a strict gender binary that is strongly tied to the reproductive cycle.

Reproduction becomes a major theme for the fourth generation of Netjeru as well, but in a radically different way. For one thing, there are not just two deities in this generation, but at least four (if not five, depending on whether you choose to include Horus—but more on that in a moment). Only two of these figures—Isis and Osiris—are a fertile heteronormative couple, and they become the darlings of the pantheon for this reason. Set and Nephthys are sterile and barren, incapable of producing any offspring. Set is also attracted to gods of the same sex, and there is reason to think the same might be true of Nephthys. While Isis and Osiris are like celebrities, receiving all the glory and the privilege from their elders, everybody tries to forget about Set and Nephthys in the beginning, pairing Them together and leaving Them to fend for Themselves.

The way I see it, this is what sets the entire Osirian drama into motion. More than anything, Nephthys—sometimes described as “an imitation woman with no vagina”—wants to have a child; She wants to experience all the same parts of womanhood that Isis enjoys. So She disguises Herself as Isis and sleeps with Osiris, who is so miraculously fertile, he could even impregnate a corpse. Nephthys then gives birth to Anubis, the jackal god, and tries to hide Him so Set won’t find out what happened. But Set learns the truth and loses His temper big time. Instead of trying to harm Nephthys or Anubis, however, He squashes Osiris instead (twice, in fact). Then Isis goes on her journey to raise Osiris from the dead. She succeeds, sleeps with her brother-husband one last time before he goes to Duat, and becomes pregnant with Horus. (This is where the question of when Horus is born comes up again. I prefer to place it here at this point in the narrative, as it makes the most thematic sense to me personally; but there are other versions of the same narrative that cite Nut as the mother of Horus. Just one more example of how the ancient Egyptians were way ahead of quantum physicists or science fiction writers when it comes to the idea of alternate universes.) Nephthys dutifully accompanies Isis through all of this insanity, helping Her sister every step of the way.

Women from popular culture who have a “Nephthys vibe.” From left to right and up to down: Guinan (Whoopi Goldberg) from Star Trek: The Next Generation; Death from DC/Vertigo’s The Sandman comics by Neil Gaiman; Elise Rainier (Linda Shaye) from the Insidious horror film franchise; goth rock artist Siouxsie Sioux; Morticia Addams (Carolyn Jones) from The Addams Family; and Lydia Deetz (Wynona Ryder) from Beetlejuice.

This is especially the case when it comes to the funeral of Osiris; and here is where Nephthys’ innermost drive becomes most evident. She and Her son Anubis help Isis reconstruct the body of Osiris and restore him to life. Through much of this process, Nephthys weeps and wails and whimpers with Isis, empathizing with the widowed goddess and sharing in her profound sorrow. The Egyptians prayed to Nephthys as a kind of “dark midwife” you might say, a divine grief counselor who assists those in terrible emotional anguish, helping them heal and feel better over time. This fits together with the role of Anubis, who invents the funerary arts and becomes the first mortician. Nobody enjoys experiencing death or loss, but they are facts of life, and those of us who survive must find a way to live again. To think that Nephthys and Anubis have always been there to nurture things that help us cope with such experiences (such as counseling or mortuary science) makes my heart glow like a jack-o’lantern.

Nephthys sides with the Osirian Trinity during the Contendings of Horus and Set, and She sticks with them for the most part after the Great Reconciliation. She continues associating with Big Red when it comes to fighting the Chaos Serpent, and She appears to have been revered as a powerful fire-breathing warrior in this regard. But the one member of the Divine Family Nephthys truly seems to have fallen in love with is Isis. To make things even more interesting, other cosmogonies have cited Set as being Anubis’ father; the two are often linked (or even outright confused with each other) even today.

None of what I say next should be treated as any kind of official religious dogma. This is just what I personally take from these wonderful stories, and you can either take it or leave it. But I think Nephthys is a lesbian goddess. I think She and Set still love each other; They have just always loved each other as brother and sister for the most part. They are divorced, but for good reason; They were never very attracted to each other in the first place. Isis and Osiris are married because they love each other; Set and Nephthys were paired together as an afterthought to make the rest of the pantheon happy. This refusal to properly integrate the forms of life and being that Set and Nephthys represent is what almost caused the downfall of Creation, and the apocalypse was only averted when the Netjeru got wise as a society and changed their ways. Now these two outcasts are truly accepted by Their family as equals, and Set has even grown to love Anubis and become His stepdad.

This trinity of Set, Nephthys, and Anubis is truly remarkable for many reasons. A divorced pansexual genderbending dad, a barren lesbian spinster mom, and a so-called “illegitimate” stepchild born of “adultery”? What isn’t there to love about this, or the fact that these figures were considered acceptable and divine in ancient Egyptian culture? The Western patriarchal concept of “the nuclear family”—which insists that all families must consist of two heteronormative cisgender adults with 2.3 biological offspring born in wedlock—is not only a more recent invention in the grand scheme of things, but a blatant work of isfet (poisonous falsehood and injustice) that contradicts Ma’at (everlasting goodness and truth). There is a place for EVERY sentient being in this world, AND for the sentient beings they love too. It simply DOES NOT MATTER whether we are male or female, gay or straight, trans or cisgender, married or unmarried, monogamous or non-monogamous, biologically related or adopted—and it NEVER has. Other religions need to hurry the fuck up and get wise to this, already. Set, Nephthys, and Anubis were already on top of this well ahead of Yahweh and Jesus, and things still don’t look so good for those two on this score today.

(Plus, Set, Nephthys, and Anubis are all goth as hell, like They’re the original Addams Family—and that is just cool.)

If there is any one divinity I associate with Hallowtide in particular (which is no easy task, given the sheer quantity of gods who align with the occasion perfectly), Nephthys is the one. My wife and I enjoy visiting cemeteries all around our state in October and November, and to me, this is a way of honoring Nephthys throughout the holiday season. Just to walk among the graves and admire the craftsmanship of the headstones and tombs; to see all the ancient iconography that still shows up, even among the newer statuary; to soak in the names of the ancestors who rest there, and the times in which they lived; to be alone in the eerie silence. Even if you don’t believe in ghosts, there is just something about visiting such places for a couple of hours that has an effect on you. Most people seem to find the idea spooky, but I find it very peaceful and meditative, helping me achieve a level of mindfulness I usually can’t reach otherwise. To me, this kind of mindfulnessness is a huge part of what Lady Nephthys is all about.

Lest She be accused of never being colorful, Nephthys is also the guardian of the Bennu. This avian divinity was associated with heron birds and the solar cycle in Heliopolis. The Greek writer Herodotus described it as the phoenix (a possible Greek derivative of Bennu), which later developed into the archetypal “bird of fire” that ritually burns and rises from its own ashes. These more modern associations are fascinating when put together with Nephthys’ reputation as a healer of wounded minds and hearts, as well as Her role as a fiery monster-slayer. Though it is really about Russian folklore, I enjoy listening to Igor Stravinsky’s The Firebird each year at Hallowtide because I find the titular creature analogous to that of the Bennu, and phoenix symbolism is very evocative of Nephthys to me personally.

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Gorgo, the Irish Feminist Sea-Dragon

Gorgo (1961) is a British kaiju (giant monster) movie with several interesting subtexts, all of which seem relevant to the goddess Taweret.

 

In Gorgo (1961), two guys named Sam and Joe are traveling the British seas, looking for gold and other precious junk on the ocean floor. Their ship gets damaged during a weird volcanic eruption that happens in the middle of the sea for no apparent reason, and they end up having to stay on an island off the coast of Ireland for a few days. While repairing their ship, Sam and Joe notice that the people of this island seem to be hiding something. Well, that something turns out to be a giant bipedal lizard with big floppy fins for ears. Sam and Joe decide to capture the creature, and when they do, the Irish government implores them to give the beast to the University of Dublin for scientific research. Unfortunately, our protagonists decide to bring the reptile to Dorkin’s Circus in London instead, where they make a shit-ton of money off the poor creature. The joke’s on them, though, because they soon learn that “Gorgo” (the name Dorkin gives to the creature, which is taken from the three Gorgons in Greek mythology) is not the only one of its breed. It’s really just a baby, in fact, and its mother—who is significantly larger and meaner—is now on her way to file one hell of a grievance against the entire city of London.

That’s pretty much the entire plot to the film right there, and considering its year of release, we’re dealing with some pretty predictable stuff. For the most part, Gorgo is largely a remake of King Kong (1933), save that its giant monster is of the saurian persuasion. Yet there are several things that distinguish this kaiju film from all of its contemporaries. At the most obvious level, it’s not Japanese but British, and it provides some interesting insight into the United Kingdom’s sociopolitical situation at the time. When Sam and Joe arrive at the island with their crew, they seek help from the Irish locals. But the locals will only respond to them in Gaelic, even though they clearly understand English. Sam and Joe also learn the harbormaster has been salvaging archaeological finds from the ocean, and they bully the dude into giving them all of his loot as “payment” for capturing Gorgo. Later on, when they decide to sell Gorgo to the London circus, they are effectively giving the Irish government the middle finger. That’s not once, but twice in the same film where Ireland gets screwed over by Anglo-Saxons, who rob the Gaels not only of their history (in the form of their archaeological treasures), but of their very own real-life dragon as well.

I first saw Gorgo when I was five or six years old. I had already seen a lot of giant monster flicks by that point, and in most of them, the “ethnic” people are usually people of color (or white and/or Japanese people in blackface or brownface). This goes all the way back to King Kong (1933), which unfortunately depicts black people as savages whom the white characters could easily exploit. But Gorgo was the first of these movies I ever saw where it’s white people treating other white people this way. Seeing Englishmen mistreat Irish people and animals in Gorgo was my introduction to subjects like Hibernophobia and the Troubles of Northern Ireland. I also love the film for being my first exposure to Gaelic language and culture.

But there’s another subtext in this film. So there’s this Irish kid named Sean, and he’s the only character who sympathizes with the monsters at first. He even stows away on Sam and Joe’s ship, hoping to free Baby Gorgo out at sea. The kid gets caught, but what do you think happens after that? Sam and Joe decide to let Sean live with them, that’s what. And yes, I said “with them.” With only a few brief exceptions, these two men spend the entire movie together; and the body language they use around each other at home is most interesting. There’s one scene where Sam and Joe are comfort little Sean while he tries to go to sleep, and Joe stands at the head of the bed in a typical fatherly pose, while Sam sits beside Sean on the mattress in a more gentle and nurturing pose. Then there’s another scene where Sam and Joe squabble over a carnival worker who has been killed by Baby Gorgo. Sam is worried about the guy’s wife and kids, and Joe, not wanting Sam to worry, promises he will send the family some money. There’s even a scene where the two of them are introduced as “Joe Ryan and his partner, Sam Slade”—and while that kind of terminology didn’t have the same connotation in 1961 that it has today, it’s hard not to imbue it with contemporary significance. It’s also interesting that there isn’t a single girl or woman in the entire cast, and that when one of the adult characters finally starts to side with Sean about setting Baby Gorgo free, it’s Sam (the “motherly” father). In other words, it’s totally believable to me that Sam and Joe are a couple, that they’ve adopted Sean, and that the three of them have become a family.

Sam (William Sylvester), Joe (Bill Travers), and Sean (Vincent Winter)—a 1960s same-sex family?

I say Gorgo has no women in it (aside from a few here or there among the extras during the final act), but there is at least one female in the film (if not two), and that’s Mama Gorgo. It’s never specifically confirmed at any point that she’s got a XX pair of sex chromosomes, but I think we can safely assume that this is true. How else can we explain Baby Gorgo? If you’re wondering where the father might be, there are such things as the New Mexico whiptail, a lizard species that is entirely female and that reproduces through parthenogenesis. It seems likely to me that Baby Gorgo is female as well, given that Dorkins names her after the Gorgons of Greek mythology (all of whom are ladies). Gorgo was also the name of a famous Queen of Sparta who lived and ruled during the 6th and 5th centuries BCE. So any way you slice it, it would seem that the giant lizards in Gorgo are the only female characters in this entire movie. This would make sense in light of certain combat myths like the Enuma Elish, for just as Marduk used his masculine strength to slay his saurian mother Tiamat and create the universe from Her corpse, so too do Sam and Joe try to create a multimillion dollar empire with the female Irish sea dragon they’ve captured. But things don’t go quite so well for them as they did for ol’ Marduk, which brings us to why I think Gorgo is something more than just a King Kong cash-in.

Gorgo the Irish Feminist Sea-Dragon (with Daughter)

I’ve always found the original 1933 King Kong too horrific to watch, because it’s about people committing acts of animal cruelty and not having to pay any real consequences for doing so. While many viewers sympathize with the titular giant ape, there is no indication in the film itself that we’re supposed to; Kong is presented as being just a big dumb animal who has to die so the damsel in distress can live to marry the dashing male hero. None of the characters mourn for Kong, and no one acknowledges that removing him from his natural environment and exploiting him was wrong (or at least, not until the remakes came along). Such was the general attitude audiences had toward giant monsters until 1954, when Ishiro Honda gave us the originalGodzilla. The monster in that film also had to die, but its death is treated more like a funeral; the audience is actively encouraged to sympathize with it and to consider the aftermath of all the violence that happens in the film. Gorgo, in contrast, is the first kaiju film in which the monsters are not only sympathetic, but victorious. There’s nothing quite so satisfying as seeing Mama and Baby Gorgo swimming back home to Ireland at the end of the film, and it wasn’t long after their victory that Mothra, Godzilla, King Kong, and the giant turtle Gamera were each re-imagined as kid-friendly superheroes.

No phallic symbolism is safe from Mama Gorgo!

So the conflict in this film would seem to exist between two different same-sex families: (1) a single mother and her little girl (the Gorgos), and (2) two men and their son (Sam, Joe, and Sean). Neither of these two families is “normal” according to “traditional” patriarchal standards; and yet the film never tries to “punish” either of them for this. As mentioned earlier, the Gorgos are reunited and get to go home, alive and happy; but even the human family turns out okay in the end. They also share a collective character arc; at first it’s just Sam and Joe, and all they care about is fame and money. Then they adopt Sean, and Sam starts sympathizing with the Gorgos like Sean does. Joe—the “fatherly” dad—remains an asshole for most of the story, but then redeems himself during Mama Gorgo’s attack on London. He protects Sean amidst all the destruction, and they are both safely re-united with Sam at the end. Based on how Joe behaves earlier in the film, you would expect this character to try and save his own skin while leaving the kid alone to die (and then be promptly eaten by the monster for being a dick). Not so with Joe; he sees the light, chooses his kid over his own self-preservation, and actually works hard to be a good dad. You almost never see this kind of character transition in giant monster movies, especially in the 1960s, and to think Joe is a gay man just makes it cooler.

Gorgo does have its flaws, but most of them are the kind I tend to overlook. The writing isn’t as sharp as it could have been; most of the character development is restricted to the first two acts (which tends to bore the hell out of most viewers), while most of the action occurs during the final act (at which point, the film forgets its human characters almost entirely). These things don’t really bother me; the only serious criticism I have about Gorgo is the fact that during its final 18 minutes, it suddenly introduces a news reporter character who narrates every single detail about Mama Gorgo’s parade through London. This segment is so glaringly unnecessary, it’s virtually impossible to ignore it. The first 60 minutes of the story are easy enough to follow, so why the hell did anyone think the last 18 needed a narrator?

Another thing I love about Gorgo is the fact that it makes me think about Taweret, the hippo fertility goddess. Taweret is like a benign chaos monster; instead of being killed to save (or create) the world, She kills other monsters that threaten the future of the world. Mama Gorgo is a perfect cinematic avatar for Taweret, and watching this film is like watching the Great Female crush the white racist capitalist patriarchy beneath Her cute, stubby toes. Seeing this movie as a kid probably helped put me on Taweret’s wavelength, even back then. If you’re Pagan and you love animals (especially gigantic reptilian beasties with wiggly ears), I bet dollars to donuts you will enjoy Gorgo. If you’ve never seen it and you’d like an additional bonus to go with it, this movie is featured in Episode 9 from Season 9 of Mystery Science Theater 3000.

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Dua Sutekh (Free Album)

A free 22-minute album of ambient devotional Setian music.

 

I decided to drop a free, 22-minute album of music I wrote in honor of Lord Set. If pressed to categorize this material, I would describe it as a combination of ambient, electronic, industrial, and trance—except everything you hear is actually just my voice. There are no musical instruments to speak of, just samples of myself that have been processed through a variety of voice changers, then painstakingly sequenced together in an audio editor to construct the melodies included here. Personally, I don’t think this turned out half bad considering the whole thing is really just me humming and whispering and wailing to myself in my back yard. Anyway, if you enjoy this music, it is also available for free streaming and download at gbmarian.bandcamp.com, and here is a copy you can stream on YouTube as well. Dua Sutekh!

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FREE ALBUM — Dua Sutekh

https://gbmarian.bandcamp.com/releases

Electronic ambient devotional music for the Egyptian god Set, composed and recorded by G.B. Marian in July 2020.

Tracks:

1. Creation’s Frontier (5:03)
2. Dua Sutekh (2:36)
3. Prince of the Darkest Heavens (4:30)
4. Snakedance (6:00)
5. Going Forth By Dawn (4:15)

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Taweret—Or, When God is a Hippopotamus

A discussion of the Egyptian hippo goddess Taweret, Her connections with Set, and the reasons I love Her so much.

 

Taweret is the Egyptian hippo goddess of childbirth. Her name means “Great Female,” and She is otherwise known as Taurt, Reret, Apet, or Thoueris. According to some accounts, She was originally the female counterpart of Apep, the Chaos Serpent; but She became a goddess and a defender of Ma’at. Now—along with Her trusty sidekick, the benevolent daemon Bes—Taweret protects the frightened and the vulnerable. As frightening as all the qliphoth of the Void might be, they are frightened of Taweret, and for good reason. Her sacred animal is one of the deadliest creatures on earth, and She is the only other Netjer or Egyptian divinity who is powerful enough to wield Khepesh, the celestial Iron of Set!

Hippos are Typhonian animals, which means there’s a very strong connection between Taweret and Set. While male hippos were feared, females were celebrated for their ferocity in protecting their young. The Egyptians channeled this ferocity by invoking Taweret for protection, especially when it came to mothers and little children. Midwives commonly used hippo statuettes to instill Taweret’s strength in women who were giving birth. People kept Her image around their homes because it made them feel SAFE in a world of terror and chaos, with no hospitals or public health system as we understand such things today. People generally don’t behave that way toward influences they think are “ugly” or “disturbing,” so clearly the sight of Taweret inspired confidence. Despite Her so-called “demonic” appearance, the Great Female is there to defend the defenseless.

Taweret never had any temples or priesthoods of Her own (that we presently know of, at least); Hers was a purely folk tradition, kept alive by Egyptian peasants in their own homes. This is ironic, given that Taweret is also linked with one of the largest and most important constellations in the northern sky. The Egyptians viewed Draco not as a dragon, but as a great big hippo with a crocodile on Her back. In funerary art, this hippo was shown with sagging breasts that are heavy with milk. She holds a chain by which the Big Dipper is tethered to Polaris, the North Star. Taweret is said to keep the Dipper restrained to prevent Set from completely destroying the universe whenever He becomes too angry. She is helped in this regard by the Four Sons of Horus: Duamutef, Hapi, Imsety and Qebshenuf.

The Great Female was eventually recast as an alternate form of Isis, the sister-wife of Osiris; but I disagree with this conflation myself. Isis is linked to Sirius and the Sothic cycle, not to Draco or the circumpolar stars, and the Isian religion is known for having absorbed virtually every other goddess religion it encountered in Late Antiquity (including the cults of Aphrodite, Demeter, and Diana). But most importantly to me, Taweret is a “monstrous” divinity who was born of chaos and who exhibits chaotic traits, yet who uses Her chaotic powers to defend the cosmic order (not to un-create it, as Apep seeks to do). She trades in an altogether different, more primeval kind of fertility than Isis does. The Egyptian gods are kind of like Voltron or the Megazord; they can converge in various formations and become composite deities, and this includes Taweret and Isis as much as the rest. But this is not the same thing as saying Taweret is simply a “different version of Isis.”

Many goddesses are portrayed as beautiful, slender-bodied women, but Taweret has always been depicted as rotund, with a gaping mouth full of razor sharp teeth. She certainly isn’t the sort of “glamour girl” one normally finds in pinup magazines, and I absolutely love Her for this. (Not that I have anything against the more glamorous goddesses; remember, I revere Ishtar too.) Our patriarchal society pretends to love women, but continues to shame them for not keeping fit, wearing makeup, shaving their armpits, or bearing children. There is nothing wrong with doing either of these things so long as it is your choice, just like there is nothing wrong with wearing a skirt or a hijab so long as it is your choice. But the expectation that every woman must fit some kind of “mold” is not only misogynist; it goes against nature, as holy figures like Taweret are here to remind us.

By the time the Greek writer Plutarch came along (circa 46–120 C.E.) to offer his version of events, Taweret’s story had been changed so that She was a concubine of Set who abandoned Him after the killing of Osiris. This change was probably the result of Set’s demonization in Late Antiquity, when He was conflated with the Chaos Serpent and blamed for Egypt’s fall to foreign rule. I think Taweret is still one of Set’s many romantic partners, but She also acts as a kind of “buffer” between Him and the other Netjeru, restraining Set when He loses His self-restraint.  (A Lady who’s not afraid to smack Big Red around with His own iron genitals whenever She thinks He’s being an asshole? How can such a Female be regarded with anything but boundless AWE?)

Taweret also resembles Big Red in that She seems to have identified more with the “little people” who didn’t benefit as much from Pharaonic privilege. The peasants knew She would always listen to them, even if the “more important” gods of the Pharaohs and the priesthoods didn’t. In Typhonian Thelemic lore, it is said that Set is the male offspring or avatar of Typhon, whom Kenneth Grant depicts as a saurian mother goddess associated with Draco. Grant further claimed that “Typhon’s” worship was suppressed by later patriarchal religions. As far as I can tell, there is no historical evidence to support either of these claims, which Grant appears to have drawn from the poet Gerald Massey (who was not an Egyptologist). But I do agree with Massey and Grant that Set’s worship is linked to that of a “monstrous” female divinity who resonates with Draco, and who was ignored by the Pharaohs for some reason. I just think the entity they were describing is actually Taweret.

I think of Draco and the Big Dipper as being at the “center” of heaven. Being circumpolar, they never descend beneath the horizon, which is why the ancient Egyptians called them “the Imperishable Ones.” Unlike the planets and the constellations of the Zodiac, the circumpolar stars can be seen on any night at any time of year (in the northern hemisphere, at least, and weather permitting). Since Draco and the Dipper are above the Zodiac, I think of Taweret and Set as being “older” and “darker” than any of the various planetary divinities (e.g., Marduk and Zeus for Jupiter, Ishtar and Aphrodite for Venus, etc.), as well as divinities associated with Sirius and Orion (e.g., Isis and Osiris, respectively), which are beneath the Zodiac. Mind you, I am not asserting any of this to be a dogmatic “fact”; it’s just the way I prefer to think about the gods based on Their related stars. I also incorporated this theoretical cosmogony into A Would-Be Ombite Creation Myth, with Set and Taweret cast as the first Netjeru to be born from Nut or Mother Sky.

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Understanding the Yezidis

The Yezidis are accused of “worshiping the devil,” but are also romanticized by Western occultists—neither of which is acceptable.

 

I first learned about the Yezidis from reading Terri Hardin’s Supernatural Tales From Around the World in the late 1990s. At that point, most people—including Western scholars—were still calling them “devil worshipers,” and accurate information about this culture was still very hard to come by. It’s only been during the past 15 years or so that the outside world has finally given the Yezidis the proper attention they deserve, but the cause for this is unfortunate. After many centuries of persecution, the Yezidis continue to be systematically slaughtered by Islamic jihadists. They are especially despised by the Islamic State terrorist group, which has exterminated entire crowds of Yezidi men and kidnapped countless Yezidi women and children, forcing them into slavery.

Yezidism is a syncretized religion that combines pre-Zoroastrian Kurdish polytheism with certain elements from the biblical faiths. It revolves around nine theological personas, including: a deistic Creator god who takes little direct interest in mortal affairs; seven archangels that serve as custodians for Creation; and a holy prophet named Sheikh Adi ibn Musafir, who is believed to have been one of the seven archangels in human form. Yezidis believe that worshiping the Creator god is pointless, because this entity does not actually care what happens to mortal beings. Our prayers are more productively directed toward the archangels instead, since they now rule the universe in the Creator’s place. Of these seven angels, the most important is called Melek Taus or Ta’usi-Melek, “the Peacock Angel.”

Melek Taus appears to have been a polytheist deity who was later conflated with the Islamic version of Satan, and this is where the accusation of Yezidi “devil worship” comes from. According to the Koran, Iblis (“Doubt,” the Islamic name for Satan) was originally a genie who refused to prostate himself before Adam per Allah’s command. Iblis is said to have thought he was superior to human beings, and Allah cast him out of heaven for his insolence and pride. Afterwards, Iblis became the Shaitan and devoted himself to tricking as many people into disobeying Allah as possible (so they will go to hell). Aside from this origin story, the Islamic devil functions in much the same way as the Christian devil does; he is basically there to harass, frighten, and/or deceive monotheists into committing various “sins.”

The Yezidis worshiped their peacock god long before they ever heard this story; but at some point, attempts were made to convert them to Islam. They were told that their Peacock Angel is actually the Shaitan (just as all polytheist deities are really “Satan” in monotheist eyes). Strangely, the Yezidis seem to have agreed that Melek Taus is the same person as Iblis; and they do agree that he disobeyed a direct order from the Creator by refusing to worship human beings. But this is where the resemblance between these two narratives ends. The Yezidis believe that instead of becoming the devil, Melek Taus actually became the first monotheist. He disobeyed the Creator not out of pride but out of loyalty, for he was refusing to worship anyone else but the Creator. The Yezidis further hold that Melek Taus was rewarded for this act of disobedience, and that the Creator chose him to rule our cosmos. In this way, they justified the continued worship of their Peacock Angel not as the “enemy” of Allah, but as his regent.

Sheikh Adi ibn Musafir was a medieval Sufi Muslim who traveled to Kurdistan in search of some peace and quiet. Despite his attempts to live a monastic life, he drew the attention of his new Yezidi neighbors, who seem to have thought he was a wizard. Sheikh Adi likely tried converting the Yezidis to Islam (and he was probably one of the very few who ever tried to do this peacefully). As far as I’ve been able to trace, the idea of Iblis being “the first monotheist” originates from the Sufi movement, which follows a more mystical reading of Islam. I bet Sheikh Adi introduced this idea to the Yezidis, who then equated it with their own god Melek Taus. In any case, Sheikh Adi made such an impression on these people that they started to believe he was actually a human incarnation of the Peacock Angel. To this very day, making a pilgrimage to Sheikh Adi’s tomb is still an important component of the Yezidi faith.

The Khatun at the door of Sheikh Adi’s temple in Lalish, Iraq

Much of the attention Yezidism has received here in the West comes from Satanists, who often cite the religion as “proof” for the historicity of a pre-LaVeyan Satanism. (Nevermind the fact that Anton LaVey was preceded by two earlier 20th century Satanists, Maria de Naglowska and Herbert Sloane.) LaVey even included part of a so-called Yezidi text—the Al-Jilwah—in his book, The Satanic Rituals (Avon, 1972). This text is now accepted by some theistic Satanists as a direct revelation from Lucifer himself; but its true history is far less certain. For one thing, the Al-Jilwah is only part of a longer text called the Mishaf Resh (“Black Book”). And while it does reflect some Yezidi beliefs, it was not written by Yezidis. Back in 2007, I had an opportunity to speak about this with Dr. Philip G. Kreyenbroek (one of the leading scholars of Yezidi culture today), and this is what Dr. Kreyenbroek shared with me:

“The so-called ‘Sacred Books’ are forgeries and have little to do with Yezidi belief. [. . .] I can still remember the face of a learned Yezidi friend of mine when I first showed him the ‘Sacred Books,’ first he was scandalized and then he laughed fit to burst.”

—P.G. Kreyenbroek (Personal Communication, October 20, 2007)

I have met theistic Satanists who believe everything in the Al-Jilwah word-for-word, as if it were the Bible and they were fundamentalist Christians. Yet the truth is that:

  • Melek Taus and Satan are two completely different figures.
  • Yezidis don’t believe in “Satan” as he is defined in Christianity or Islam at all.
  • Yezidis consider the Al-Jilwah to be some Westerner’s idea of a joke.

This pretty much destroys the entire notion of using the Al-Jilwah as some kind of “infallible” sacred scripture. But Yezidi beliefs have also been appropriated by other Western occult groups, including Theosophists  and Thelemites . While romanticizing the Yezidis as “ascended occult masters” is much better than vilifying them as “devil worshipers,” it is equally removed from reality. What these people have written about Yezidism really says more about Western occultists than it does about Yezidis. It’s equivalent to saying, “I can’t find more than a single paragraph about the Yezidis in any of my encyclopedias, and I’ve never actually met a Yezidi person or directly experienced their faith in any way; but since I’m a Snooticus Maximus XXI° of the Ordo Assholius Genericus, I automatically know more about Yezidism than anyone else—including those silly Yezidis!”

A much better example of how Western occultists can treat Yezidi beliefs and culture would be the Feri Tradition of Traditional Witchcraft. For better information on this particular subject, check out The Blue God of Faery, an interview with Storm Faerywolf on Patheos.com.  

Alexander Hislop once conflated Melek Taus with Set, but my research has convinced me that this claim is false. However, I continue to feel great empathy for the Yezidis. I appreciate their unique theology, and I can identify with how frustrating it is when people think your god is “evil.” My heart also breaks whenever I think of all the human rights abuses the Yezidis have suffered en masse. This has been my attempt at setting the record straight about some of their beliefs, which are grossly misrepresented not only by Christians and Muslims, but also by Satanists and other Western occultists. There is nothing wrong with taking some inspiration from the Yezidi faith, if people feel a calling to do so; after all, the Yezidis themselves maintain that Melek Taus “belongs to everyone.” But if a person does take inspiration from the Yezidis, they should make every effort to understand Yezidism on its own terms, as well as to clarify that they are not actual Yezidis themselves. Since the Yezidis are an ethnic group as much as they are a religion, white people have no business trying to include themselves in their culture.

Further Information

YezidiTruth.Org

Who, What, Why: Who Are the Yezidis? (BBC News)

References

Acikyildiz, B. (2010). The Yezidis: The history of a community, culture and religion. New York, NY: I.B. Tauris & Co.

Allison, C. (2001). The Yezidi oral tradition in Iraqi Kurdistan. Richmond, Surrey: Curzon Press.

Arakelova, V. (2004). Notes on the Yezidi religious syncretism. Iran & the Caucasus, 8(1), 19–28. Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/4030889

Asatrian, G. (1999). The holy brotherhood: The Yezidi religious institution of the”brother” and the “sister” of the next world. Iran & the Caucasus, 3/4. Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/4030767

Asatrian, G., & Arakelova, V. (2004). The Yezidi pantheon. Iran & the Caucasus, 8(2), 231–279. Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/4030995

Guest, J.S. (1987). Survival among the Kurds: A history of the Yezidis. Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge.

Kreyenbroek, P.G. (2009). Yezidism in Europe: Different generations speak about their religion. Göttingen, Germany: Hubert & Co.

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An LV-426 LBRP

An LV-426 Setian adaptation of the Lesser Banishing Ritual of the Pentagram.

 

The Lesser Banishing Ritual of the Pentagram (or LBRP for short) is a magical procedure developed by the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. It involves casting a magician’s circle, tracing pentagrams in the air, and reciting divine names of power to repel any chaotic or qliphothic forces that might be hanging around you.

The litany for this rite was adapted from a traditional Jewish prayer that is recited before sleeping:

In the Name of God, the God of Israel: may Michael be at my right hand, Gabriel at my left, Uriel before me, Raphael behind me, and above my head, the presence of God.

The actual Golden Dawn procedure is much more complicated than just a bedtime prayer, requiring the use of an altar, robes, and various ritual tools. But the effect was so remarkable that even people outside the Golden Dawn started using the procedure, re-writing it to suit their own needs. More than a century later, a Google search for “LBRP” will retrieve countless variants of the rite that are now used in various faiths today, including Wicca, Thelema, and even Satanism.

Upon learning that the LBRP descends from a bedtime prayer, I felt moved to draft an adaptation of my own. This version of the rite is written from an LV-426 Setian perspective, which means it is much simpler than what most ceremonial magicians are probably used to. You can include an altar and any additional ritual items you wish, but this is entirely optional. The only things you really need are yourself and a nice quiet place where you can be alone.

The Procedure

Stand facing north, with your eyes closed. Count down silently from 100. Then raise your head up high and recite:

In the Name of
SUTEKH,
God of Deshret.

 

Open your eyes and turn slowly to the left, facing west. Raise both your hands in the sign of the horns, pointing up to the sky.

Draw a horned pentagram in the air before you with your left hand; imagine a red light trailing behind your fingertips, so there is an invisible afterglow. Then, arms still raised into the air, recite:

Hear me,
NUBTI of Ombos,
Golden One,
Provider of Life on the Frontier.

 

Turn to the left, facing south. Draw another pentagram in the air, in the same manner. Then, arms still raised, recite:

Hear me,
TYPHON of Aegyptos,
Disturber of the Dark,
Giver of Winds.

 

Turn to the left, facing east. Repeat the same procedure; then recite:

Hear me,
HADAD of Kemet,
Savior of Khepera,
Hero of the Light.

 

Turn to the left, so that you are facing north once again. Draw one last pentagram in the air; then recite:

Hear me,
ASH of the Oases,
Horned Night-Hunter,
Wanderer of the Wastes.

 

Gently lower your arms and close your eyes. Remain silent for a few moments; then recite:

I am
SUTEKH’S Child,
the Dazzling One in mortal flesh.
I alone am Sovereign Ruler
of my innermost self.

 

Raise your left hand in the sign of the horns, pointing west. Recite:

May
NUBTI
ever be at my left;
I will survive and persevere
in all hostile terrain.

 

Raise your right hand in the sign of the horns, pointing east. Recite:

May
HADAD
be ever at my right;
I will smite the forces of isfet
and champion the Light.

 

Keeping both arms in the air, take a half-step backwards, so that your left foot is behind you. Recite:

May
TYPHON
ever be behind me;
I will ride the winds of change
and create myself anew.

 

Take a half-step forwards (with your arms still in the air), so that your right foot is before you. Recite:

May
ASH
ever be before me;
I will drink sweetwater
in the Desert between the Worlds.

 

Rise into a standing position and cross your arms over your chest, with your hands still in the sign of the horns. Close your eyes once more and recite:

May the presence of
SUTEKH
be ever upon my crown.

 

Silently count backwards from 100; then open your eyes and go forth by day.

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Ishtar’s Final Conflict With “The Man”

How The Final Conflict (a.k.a. Omen III: The Final Conflict) can be read as an allegory for the goddess Ishtar and Her rivalry with Therion, the spirit of human tyranny.

 

The Final Conflict (1981)—which was re-christened Omen III: The Final Conflict for its DVD release in the early 2000s—is the second sequel to Richard Donner’s 1976 masterpiece, The Omen. I enjoy the original Omen trilogy in its entirety, but The Final Conflict is the one installment thereof that’s made the largest impression on me. This film also makes me think about the Akkadian goddess Ishtar, who is one of Set’s many romantic partners and the second-most important deity to me personally.

In case you’ve never seen The Omen or its initial sequel, Damien: Omen II (1978), here is a brief recap of their events. The 1976 original is about a U.S. politician named Robert Thorn (played by Gregory Peck) who learns his child has died while his wife Katherine (Lee Remick) was giving birth. A Catholic priest convinces Thorn to adopt an orphan who was born at the same time at the same hospital. Robert agrees, and the Thorns leave with their newborn baby boy (and with Katherine none the wiser to his true parentage). But as the child, Damien, grows older, weird shit starts to happen. One of his nannies hangs herself in front of his entire birthday party. A new, creepy nanny shows up to take the old one’s place. A crazy priest stalks and harasses Robert. A big black dog starts hanging around the Thorn household. A photographer (David Warner) captures prophetic photos of people’s deaths. And poor Katherine becomes terrified of the child who is supposed to be her offspring. All of which leads Robert to visit Rome, a monastery in Subiaco, and an archaeological dig in the valley of Megiddo, where he learns that Damien is really the son of Satan and can only be killed with these mystical artifacts called the Seven Daggers of Meggido.

What follows is the most disturbingly sympathetic depiction of attempted infanticide that has ever been filmed. Unfortunately, Robert only succeeds in getting himself killed when he tries to prevent the apocalypse (spoilers!), and Damien is then adopted by his uncle Richard (William Holden) in Damien: Omen II. Now an adolescent, Damien (Jonathan Scott-Taylor) remembers nothing of what happened to him or his parents in the first film. He’s also best friends with his cousin Mark, who’s more like a brother to him. Damien and Mark both attend military school, where their drill sergeant (Lance Henriksen) teaches Damien about his true identity. Meanwhile, a nosy reporter tries to convince Uncle Richard of the truth, and this leads to a bunch of increasingly over-the-top deaths. (My favorite is the guy who gets sawed in half by an elevator cable. Truly classic.) Eventually, Damien grows into his predestined role and wipes out all that remains of his family tree so he can be the sole inheritor of the Thorn family fortune.

The Omen is a perfect horror show from start to finish, and it’s every bit as scary as people say it is. The script wastes no time getting down to business, and each of the actors’ performances is Oscar-worthy. But it’s also my least favorite film in the trilogy, for Damien is only a peripheral character in the story. Granted, this is exactly what makes the film so scary; Damien remains completely alien to both his parents and the audience right to the very end, and it’s always easier to be frightened of something when it’s part of the unknown. But I find Damien: Omen II much more interesting, because it’s the first film ever made that actually puts us inside the Antichrist’s head. When Damien learns he is the Great Beast, he’s just as horrified as everyone else is; but the most powerful moment is when his cousin Mark gets wise and confronts Damien about his true identity. Mark threatens to tell everyone, and Damien reluctantly uses his powers to give Mark a brain aneurysm. When Mark drops dead, Damien screams the most convincing scream of despair I’ve ever heard from any character in any movie ever. That scene always makes me weep a little whenever I see it, because Jonathan Scott-Taylor really sells it. Damien: Omen II is quite derivative of the first movie, but it deserves credit for one thing at least: the character of Damien is perfectly written.

Sam Neill as Damien Thorn

A lobby card for the film.

In The Final Conflict, Damien is now an adult in his thirties, and he’s played by Sam Neill. He has now become the owner of Thorn Industries, a multi-billion dollar company that has revolutionized the food industry, and which is working to solve the world hunger crisis forever. Damien is also the U.S. President’s first choice for Ambassador to Great Britain (after the current guy gets possessed by a black demon dog and blows his brains out). Damien is hot for Great Britain because he has this entirely fictitious apocryphal text called the “Book of Hebron,” which prophesies that Jesus will be reincarnated in Jolly Old England any day now. (Maybe they didn’t have the budget to do a proper Second Coming, with the J-Man flying down from the sky?) But after he sets up shop across the pond, Damien falls for a news reporter named Kate Reynolds (Lisa Harrow); then these Catholic monks at a monastery in Subiaco, Italy find the Seven Daggers of Meggido and try to assassinate him. This leads to a series of hilariously incompetent murder attempts that will have you shaking your head in disbelief. Meanwhile, Jesus is born again somewhere (did you see what I just did there?), but nobody knows where. Lucky for him, Damien knows the birth coincided with a weird astronomical convergence that occurred a few nights ago, so he sends his worshipers out to murder every male baby in England who was born within that time frame. Then Kate Reynolds finds out what the rest of us already know about Damien, and the titular Final Conflict truly begins.

The number one attraction in this film, and the most important reason for anyone to see it, is Sam Neill; he’s literally the greatest Antichrist I’ve ever seen in any film ever. Forget about Michael York, Nick Mancuso, Gordon Currie, or anyone else who’s ever played the Beast in those movies they show on the Trinity Broadcast Network; Sam Neill’s performance here is the gold standard. Rather than playing Damien like some two-dimensional cartoon villain, he plays him like he’s the goddamn hero of the movie. He brings so much charisma and charm to the role that he succeeds in making Damien extremely likeable, even when he’s ordering hundreds of newborns to their deaths. Everyone I know who’s ever seen The Final Conflict ends up rooting for Damien somehow (even though they know they’re not supposed to), and they can’t help but feel disappointed with the ending. (More on that in a minute.) The only other performance that’s comparable to this is that of Sir Anthony Hopkins as Dr. Hannibal “the Cannibal” Lecter in The Silence of the Lambs (1991). If there is an Antichrist and he ever tries to take over the world, we’d all better pray he isn’t just like Sam Neill in this movie—or else we might actually want him to take over.

The Final Conflict novelization

The novelization of the 1981 film, The Final Conflict, by Gordon McGill.

In one scene, Damien and Kate walk through a park and see one of the monks, who’s standing on a soapbox, preaching. Damien notices the monk is staring right at him, and he instantly knows the guy is here to kill him. So he starts surveying the area like a hawk—without breathing a word of his concerns to Kate—and he actually looks worried. Is he concerned for himself, or is he concerned for Kate’s safety should there be an ambush? Then there’s another scene where Damien goes to work right after the Christ child has been born. He’s been up all night because he could sense the birth happening, and Kate catches him at the elevator, asking if it’s okay for her to try interviewing him again. (Her last attempt was foiled by another assassin.) Damien smiles and agrees, and she leaves; then he gets in the elevator, sighs, and slumps his shoulders. I’d like to remind you that this character is supposed to be Friedrich Nietzsche’s Übermensch with a vast array of supernatural powers; and yet Neill sneaks in all of these brief human touches—a look of genuine concern, a tired sigh—and actually makes us care about this evil, rotten bastard…

I hate to blow the ending of this film for anyone who hasn’t seen it, but trust me; you probably want to know about this going in. For some reason, I thought this movie was going to end with a big showdown between Damien and Jesus; surely, that would be the “Final Conflict” everyone was expecting, right? I knew things wouldn’t end well for the Beast, but I figured there would at least be some kind of special effects extravaganza. No such luck; the movie ends with Damien being led into a trap by Kate, and Kate stabs him in the back with one of those nifty Meggido daggers. Then Damien limps away, curses Jesus, and promptly dies. Cue music, roll credits. When I first saw this, I was royally pissed. The film had done an excellent job of keeping me at the edge of my seat for the first 90 minutes or so; but it starts running out of steam real fast during the final 20, and that ending just didn’t seem fair. They went through all that hard work of building up this magnificent character and this huge final battle he’s going to have, and what do they give us? Sam Neill getting stabbed in the back (literally) by the woman he loves. I mean, what the hell were they thinking? I wanted to see Damien and Jesus go “Hell in a Cell” on that shit!

Sam Neill as Damien Thorn, with Lisa Harrow as Kate Reynolds and Barnaby Holm as her son Peter

An additional lobby card for the film, with Lisa Harrow as “Kate Reynolds” in the center.

But I’ve watched The Final Conflict countless times since that first viewing in 1999, and I think I’ve figured out what they were really going for here. Let’s consider that this film was not made by evangelical Christians with a religious axe to grind; if it had been, they would have kept things as close to their scriptures as possible. Let’s also consider the fact that none of the avowed Christian men in this movie can stop Damien; hell, not even Jesus himself can stop him! The only character who actually poses a real, substantial threat to the Antichrist is (1) a woman, (2) a skeptic, (3) a feminist, and (4) a single mother. In other words, she is precisely the sort of person whom conservative Christianity has always sought to disempower. The real “Final Conflict” here is not between Christ and Satan at all; it’s between male religious violence (perpetuated by Christians and Satanists) and a female secularist who just wants the violence to stop. Note that while Kate scoffs at Christianity at various points in the film, she nevertheless respects its right to exist; and while she eventually sends Damien back to hell, it’s clear she would much rather work things out and share a life with him somehow. Kate is also the only character who commits an act of violence for purely personal reasons. The monks want to kill Damien because he’s the Beast, and Damien wants to kill the Christ child because he’s Jesus; both sides are motivated by purely ideological concerns. But when Kate stabs Damien, it’s because he’s just murdered her son. (Peter is accidentally killed by one of the monks when Damien uses him as a human shield; the poor kid is literally caught between two religious fanatics.) With all this in mind, I now think the climax of this film is far more daring than I originally thought.

I used to think the conclusion to this film was just an example of lazy screenwriting, but I’ve noticed over the years that The Final Conflict gives us several hints about how it will end. In one scene, one of Damien’s “Disciples of the Watch” advises him to stay away from Kate. “I decide who’s dangerous and who isn’t!” Damien shouts angrily, betraying the fact that he feels insecure about Kate himself. Later, Kate falls into a river and almost drowns at Damien’s house. He hesitates before rescuing her (as if he senses that he shouldn’t), but his concern for her overpowers him. As Kate dries herself by the fire back in the house, she tells Damien she feels like a moth who’s flown too close to the flame; she knows he’s dangerous, but she can’t stay away. Damien’s response to her is perhaps the most beautifully-delivered line in the entire film: “Yes—but who is the moth, and who is the flame?” Finally, when Kate stabs Damien at the end with the Megiddo blade, he smiles to himself ever so subtly, as if he’s always known that she would be his undoing. Kate Reynolds was clearly meant to be the savior of humanity in this film from its very conception; and in casting her as such, The Final Conflict offers us a most unexpected soteriology.

“[Damien] is the human son of Satan, fully committed to his Father. But just as Mary Magdalene represented temptation to Jesus, so Kate represents temptation to Damien. She arouses human feelings within him that could so easily lead him astray from his insidious mission, his inglorious destiny.”

—Sam Neill in an 1981 interview upon the film’s release

The hero of this film is an independent, powerful, and successful woman. She isn’t owned or controlled by any man or male divinity. She comes awful close to losing herself in Damien, especially when she spends a dark night of the soul with him in bed. But she rises again from that proverbial pit, stronger than before, and equipped with the power to send her two-faced lover back to the Underworld. Is any of this starting to sound familiar yet? By gods, it should; for Kate’s arc is basically the Descent of Ishtar all over again. Damien is like a really nasty corruption of Tammuz, a version that’s turned completely rotten. All of his power and wealth are tied to the food industry, just as Tammuz is the god of food and vegetation. But while this “anti-Tammuz” and his enemies are gridlocked in their increasingly futile holy war, Ishtar sneaks in and chooses Her own “messiah” to save the day. The filmmakers try to give Jesus all the credit for this by slapping an obligatory Bible quote on the screen just before the end titles roll; but as far as I’m concerned, it isn’t the Lion of Judah who snuffs the Great Beast here. It’s the Lion of Babylon!

The Octagram or 8-Pointed Star of Ishtar

Ishtar be praised!

Contrary to popular wisdom, there is a distinction between “the Antichrist” and “the Great Beast 666” from Revelation 13. Early Christians used the word antichristos to describe anyone who (1) refused Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior, (2) propagated a “heretical” version of Christianity, or (3) claimed to be Christian but didn’t behave like one. The first of these definitions is practically useless since it would seem to include all non-Christians. The second is equally problematic since it requires demonizing all Christian denominations apart from one’s own. The third, however, makes a great deal of sense, for what else can you call someone who claims to love Jesus but fails to treat people in a Christian manner? The real Antichrist has nothing to do with Satanism, but is actually the spirit of Christian hypocrisy itself. Turn on your local televangelist TV network and you will find the true disciples of Antichrist at work, pushing their insane political agendas and extorting millions from their hapless followers in Jesus’ name.

The Great Beast (or Therion in Greek) is based on several ancient kings who persecuted monotheists. People like the Pharaoh in Exodus and the Roman Emperor Nero all had three things in common: (1) they ruled over polytheist nations, (2) they considered themselves to be divine, and (3) they considered the Hebrews and the early Christians to be a threat. After being fed to lions for so long, Christians became convinced that such rulers were actually possessed by Satan himself, and prophetic texts like the book of Revelation were built upon this core concept. While Antichrist represents the evil that lurks within Christianity, the Great Beast represents the archetypal “evil king”—a ruler who tyrannizes his people, and whose actions will bring about destruction and doom. Unlike Antichrist, the Beast doesn’t try to pervert Christianity from within; he seeks instead to destroy it from without. So if we want to get technical about it, Damien Thorn is not really the Antichrist per se, but the spirit of Therion in human form.

Mind you, monotheists have not exactly been “kind” to Pagans throughout history, either. It was especially bad for those civilizations that lived right next door to ancient Israel. The gods and goddesses of these cultures are specifically named as “demons” in the Old Testament (e.g., Ba’al, Asherah, etc.) and are commonly invoked as such in contemporary media. Lady Ishtar is just one of these divinities, and it’s sad to think that whenever She is discussed in today’s world, it is almost always in terms of biblical prophecy. She is even linked with Therion in the book of Revelation:

Then the angel said to me, “The waters you saw, where the prostitute sits, are peoples, multitudes, nations and languages. The beast and the ten horns you saw will hate the prostitute. They will bring her to ruin and leave her naked; they will eat her flesh and burn her with fire. For [Yahweh] has put it into their hearts to accomplish his purpose by agreeing to hand over to the beast their royal authority, until [Yahweh]’s words are fulfilled. The woman you saw is the great city that rules over the kings of the earth.”

—Revelation 17:15–18

As I’ve discussed before, the Whore of Babylon is clearly inspired by Ishtar, even if her symbolic purpose is different. But what I find especially interesting here is the contrast between a female entity who “rules over the kings of the earth” and an evil king who has turned against her. Ishtar presides over the concept of “sacred kingship,” which required a Babylonian king to “marry” the goddess and serve the people as Her priest. He had to ensure that his nation’s crops didn’t fail, that his borders remained protected from foreign invaders, and that his people were cared for in times of disaster. He also had to perform religious rituals all the time to ensure that his people’s gods were properly appeased. A lousy ruler who brought ruin to his people would have been considered “unfaithful” to Ishtar, and some kings were even sacrificed to atone for this sin. This only reinforces my opinion that by killing Damien in The Final Conflict, Kate Reynolds is actually sacrificing him to Ishtar as penance for his disastrous leadership. (It’s reassuring to think that with the Queen of Heaven, even monarchs can be held accountable and taken to task.)

Sam Neill as Damien Thorn and Lisa Harrow as Kate Reynolds

Sam Neill and Lisa Harrow posing for a behind-the-scenes photo.

Don’t get me wrong; The Final Conflict is not a perfect film. There are times when it sabotages itself by trying to copy the original Omen too much. Why are we still wasting time with lone individuals getting slaughtered in isolated places? Why isn’t Damien the President already when this film begins, sending troops to invade the Middle East and start World War III? They missed an opportunity to enlarge the scale and the stakes of the story here; and by restricting all the action to Great Britain, they do a great injustice to the premise. The only exception to this is the baby-killing conspiracy sequence, which is one of the most chilling things I’ve ever seen. The murders themselves are never shown, but are only suggested through quick cuts, musical cues, and horrified reactions from the actors. This is a perfect example of how the power of suggestion can leave a much deeper impression on the mind than just painting the screen with gore. It also helps keep the violence as tasteful as possible (which is no small feat, considering the subject matter), while also making it more disturbing to sit through. If you think the jump scares in The Conjuring (2013) are scary, try watching the scene where one of Damien’s disciples—an Anglican priest—gives a newborn his own version of a “baptismal rite.” It makes my skin crawl just thinking about it.

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Ishtar, the Lady Morningstar

She rebelled to help humanity before Prometheus. She died and rose from the grave before Jesus. And She invented the “zombie apocalypse” before George Romero.

 

Almost every culture has viewed Venus—the “Lucifer” or Morningstar—as an aggressive, contrary force. This is because it is usually the first star seen at sunset, and the last star seen at dawn. Based on this phenomenon, people imagined that Venus is a “rebel” who defies the Sun, refusing to disappear as her superior rises, then rushing to ascend as the Sun sets. Even before medieval Christians incorporated Lucifer into their devil myth, most theological beings associated with Venus were perceived as unruly, cosmic shit-disturbers.

Ishtar, the Akkadian goddess of Venus, is no exception. She stole the sacred mes, the powers of civilization, from Her uncle Ea and gave them to the people of Uruk. She insisted on visiting Her deadly sister Ereshkigal, the Queen of the Underworld, and conquered death in the process (with some help from Ea). When She learned Her husband Tammuz had not grieved for Her at all while She was dead, She killed and kicked His ass straight down into hell. When the “hero” Gilgamesh refused to marry Her, She sent the apocalyptic Bull of Heaven after him. And when Her father Anu refused to give Her the Bull at first, She threatened to raise all the dead across the earth and send them to feast on the living. She is also said to have an insatiable sex drive, exhausting all of Her various lovers to death.

If you think that sounds bad, Gilgamesh was a king who tyrannized his people, breaking into their homes and raping all the women. He only stopped when the gods created Enkidu to challenge him, giving him something else to do with his time. Gilgamesh then became so obsessed with finding the secret to immortality that he abandoned his people and left them to fend for themselves. (What an asshole!) So it’s always seemed weird to me that he is portrayed as the “hero” in this story (despite being a tyrant and a rapist), while Ishtar is framed as the “villain” (even though She is divine and transcends all human understanding). The greatest threat Ishtar poses for this megalomaniac is not to his life, but to his ego.

(If Ishtar appeared and said She wanted to marry me, I’d say, “Okay.” Better to be mauled ecstatically by Ishtar’s lovely, blood-splattered mouth than to die by the hand of any mortal man!)

Ishtar appears in Babylonian art as a badass Amazon standing on a goddamn lion, getting ready to beat the shit out of some motherfuckers. Assyrian kings prayed for Her to join them on the battlefield like a Valkyrie and slaughter their foes like cattle. (And if their records are to be believed, She answered their prayers…brutally.) As a warrior goddess, Ishtar was very popular with the Hyksos, who called Her Astarte and paired Her with their chief deity, Ba’al Hadad. When the Hyksos ruled Egypt during the Second Intermediate Period, they brought Ishtar’s worship into the Land of the Pharaohs. And since Ba’al Hadad was identified with Set by the Egyptians, they came to view Ishtar/Astarte as one of Set’s romantic interests as well.

There is a fragmentary Egyptian text from Edfu in which Yamm, a sea monster, demands the hand of Ishtar in marriage. For a moment, it seems the beast will claim its bride; but Set intercedes, and while the rest of the story is uncertain, there is a similar Ugaritic tale in which Ba’al Hadad rescues Astarte from Yamm. Since Hadad’s name is substituted for Set’s in the Edfu texts, the Egyptian version most likely ends with Set destroying Yamm and marrying Ishtar. Considering Their unruliness and Their shared frustrations with dying-and-rising fertility gods (like Osiris and Tammuz), don’t you think Set and Ishtar make a perfect couple?

Ishtar is often vilified for being so “promiscuous.” This is due to a complete misunderstanding of hierogamy or hieros gamos, the concept of “sacred marriage.” It is a religious rite in which people have sexual intercourse, with at least one of the participants being “possessed” by a deity. Such procedures served a twofold purpose in the ancient world. The practical purpose was to channel the fertility of a god and/or goddess into the crops, livestock, and people of a community. The spiritual purpose was to reach a higher level of consciousness. Under the right circumstances (all of which require CONSENT), a really good orgasm can totally “blow your mind” and make you feel like you’re in tune with the rest of the cosmos. It makes total sense why people would consider that ecstatic moment of self-surrender to be supremely magical. From this standpoint, sex can be much more than just some “dirty” animal act; it can be a divine religious experience that is both self-fulfilling and incredibly humbling.

The clergy in ancient religions that practiced hierogamy are often described as “cult prostitutes” by biblical scholars. This is especially true when it comes to the qadishtu or holy women of Ishtar. Sex did in fact play a part in the beliefs of the qadishtu, and they were ostensibly paid by the laity for their clerical services. But the way I see it, there probably wasn’t always a direct relation between these two things.

First of all, it is unclear whether Ishtar’s holy women actually engaged in hierogamy with everyone who entered their temples, or if just one priestess performed the rite with a king during the annual Akitu spring festival. To be honest, I have my doubts that even the latter case was always true. Many contemporary examples of hierogamy (such as the Great Rite in Wicca) are often performed symbolically (e.g., sticking an athame in a chalice, rather than actually copulating). It is entirely possible that hierogamy wasn’t always practiced quite so literally in pre-Christian times, either.

Secondly, it is wrong to assume that every service the qadishtu provided for their society was sexual in nature. In fact, it is very likely that most of what they did had nothing to do with sex at all. The available evidence would seem to suggest they were more like nuns than nymphs, caring for the sick and the orphaned, keeping chaste, and living their day-to-day lives in quiet, contemplative prayer. So the fact that Herodotus and the biblical patriarchs defined the qadishtu in terms of sex says infinitely more about them and their dirty little minds than it does about Ishtar’s holy women.

The Mušḫuššu dragon from the Ishtar Gate

Yet another attack on Ishtar is the false claim that She is the alleged “Pagan origin” of Easter. This story goes back to Alexander Hislop, who published a pamphlet called The Two Babylons in 1853. Hislop claimed that Ishtar was originally a mortal Babylonian queen named Semiramis, who single-handedly invented all of polytheism. She then became worshiped as Ishtar—which many Christians claim is pronounced “Easter” for some reason—and created the holiday we now know by that name for herself.

Hislop was partially correct; Easter does in fact have polytheist origins. But its name is actually derived from Eostre, a Teutonic fertility goddess who bears no historical relation to Ishtar whatsoever. The imagery of rabbits and eggs is taken from a myth in which Eostre transformed a bird into a rabbit that could lay eggs (the Easter Bunny). These symbols do not appear anywhere in Ishtar’s iconography, which has plenty more to do with bulls, dragons, lions, and owls. Nevertheless, evangelicals continue to repeat Hislop’s bullshit at every turn, criticizing Easter as a so-called “satanic” rite to Ishtar.

The Burney Relief, depicting an unknown female figure who could be Ishtar or Ereshkigal (but who likely isn’t Lilith)

One thing that really sticks in my craw is when people confuse Ishtar with the succubus, Lilith. In the 1970s, many Pagan writers circulated a claim that Lilith originated not as the “first wife of Adam,” but as a “handmaiden” of Ishtar who served the goddess by bringing men to Her temple for worship. Another claim states that Lilith is really a goddess in her own right; she was later demonized, or so the story goes, when biblical patriarchy replaced the goddess religions of old. And some people seem to think Ishtar and Lilith are really just the same person at the end of the day.

There is no evidence to support any of these theories. Even in pre-biblical polytheist cultures, Lilith was a qliphothic entity that ate newborn children and sapped men of their seed at night. She was never worshiped, but was only warded off with apotropaic spells. This was as true when the Epic of Gilgamesh was being written as it was when the Old Testament was being written. I can accept the idea of people believing Lilith is a goddess today, if that is truly how they feel; but they should admit this is a new belief in the grand scheme of things, and not an ancient one. They should also avoid conflating Ishtar with Lilith, because the two are very different figures indeed. At the very least, the former is my Spirit Mama, and the latter is not.

I first met Ishtar in McClennan County, Texas, during the autumn of 1999. I was about to turn 17, and I had been walking with Set for just over two years. I can’t really explain what drew me to Ishtar so suddenly that cloudy afternoon; the best I can say is that Set “traded” me with Her, and I walked with Her for the following year. They traded me back after that, and I’ve been with Set ever since. I never quite understood why this happened until about a decade later, when I met the woman who became my wife. We met in a Pagan discussion forum, and the only reason we did is because I wanted to meet other people who knew about Set, and she wanted to meet other people who knew about Ishtar. Considering this, we’ve always felt that Set and Ishtar are personally responsible for micromanaging things just so the two of us would meet. And that hiatus I had with Ishtar was the goddess sizing me up as a potential match for one of Her contemporary qadishtu. (I sure am glad I passed the test!)

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