Last week I completed my brief overview of the Greek gods, with a view to writing about Boticelli’s Birth of Venus. Today I’d like to give a closer look at Venus herself. Venus was the goddess of beauty and love in Roman mythology. Through identification with the Greek Aphrodite, she became one of the most powerful mythological symbols.

As I noted last week, there are two myths surrounding the origins of Venus. In the first, probably Roman, she was the daughter of Jupiter and Dione. In the second, perhaps due to the association of the name Aphrodite with the Greek word aphros,meaning foam, she sprang from the sea fully formed. The zephyrs wafted her along the waves to the Isle of Cyprus, where she was received and attired by the Seasons, and then led to the assembly of the gods. It is this tale of the birth of Venus, of course, that was depicted by Boticelli in his most famous painting.

All the gods were charmed with her beauty, and each one demanded her for his wife. Jupiter gave her to Vulcan, in gratitude for the service Vulcan had rendered in forging thunderbolts. Thus the most beautiful of the goddesses became the wife of the most ill-favored of gods (rich psychological fare in itself, if one considers marriage as a container as opposites). As I wrote before, Vulcan was the son of Jupiter and Juno, and was born lame. His mother was so displeased with him that she threw him out of heaven. Some myths say that Vulcan was merely born ugly, and became lame after being thrown from heaven by his mother. In any case, he was certainly not the god one would consider most likely to wed the beautiful Venus. With Vulcan, Venus became the mother of Eros and Anteros; by Mars, she produced Harmonia; by Anchises (her mortal lover), the mother of Aeneas.

I like to think about the idea of containing opposites that Venus and progeny present. Venus, the goddess of beauty and love, marries Vulcan, the ugly, lame god of fire and forges. Together (wed, cooperating, partnering, coupling), they produce Eros, the god of love, lust, and sensuality, and Anteros, the god of love returned, of requited love, and the avenger of unrequited love. With Mars, the father of all Romans and the god of war, Venus births Harmonia, the goddess of harmony. What beautiful metaphors! They suggest that if we become conscious of our inner opposites–or lust for war, our need for love–we will produce something that contains something of each real, acknowledged part: perhaps harmony, one who can unite disparate parts.

Or perhaps if we stop rejecting our ugly, lame parts and personalize them and relate to them as our inner Vulcan, we will produce fruit as necessary and important as romantic love, erotic or sexual love, and will begin to approach consciousness in our marriages or intimate relationships with others. This is what understanding mythology can do for us, I think: give us road maps to the human psyche from ancient times, when people told tales.

Venus owned an embroidered girdle called Cestus, enabled its wearer to arouse love in others. Her favorite birds were swans and doves, and the plants sacred to her were the rose and the myrtle.

Venus plays an important part in several other myths and legends. For example, she gave beauty as a gift to Pandora, the first woman; she fell in love with Adonis and after his death, changed his blood into the anemone; she first objected to and eventually consented to her son Cupid’s (Eros’) love for Psyche and thus is a symbol of the powerful mother-in-law, and the need for men to fulfill the Biblical mandate to “leave and cleave.”

Venus destined Helen, the wife of Menelaus, for Paris and thus caused the Trojan war; she sided with the Trojans against the Greeks and enlisted the help of her admirer, Mars. She competed against Juno and Minerva for the apple of discord and was given the prize by Paris; and there are numerous other tales in which Venus figures prominently.

If you’ve been reading The Third Eve, you know that I began a series, “Once Upon a Time,” about the gods and goddesses of Greece and Rome, with the intention of writing about Boticelli’s Birth of Venus, which I use in my header and which is rich in symbolism. In Part 5, I wrote about the basic Greek world view in mythological terms, about the world’s beginning, and about the original gods, or Titans: Saturn, Rhea, and Jupiter. We learned that the Greeks, like their Hebrew counterparts, had two creation myths. In the second, Earth and Love (Eros) were the first beings; Eros sprang from the egg of the Night, which floated on Chaos. We’ll want to remember this later when we look at the origins of Venus (Aphrodite), for their origin myths may give us clues about timeless ideas of what it means to be male or female.

If you haven’t kept up with this blog, but are new to it, the series has progressed in this order:

• Part 1: Pack Your Bags–Introduces some history about Boticelli’s The Birth of Venus and the use of myths.
• Part 2: The Quest–The archetypal journey, or, what Campbell called the monomyth.
• Part 3: The Shadow–Who knows what evils lurk in the heart of men? The Shadow knows.
• Part 4: More About the Shadow Archetype
• Orphan Myths
• Part 5: The Gods of Greece and Rome

Today I want to wrap up an overview of the gods and goddesses of Greece and Rome and suggest some helpful resources for anyone who wants to delve into this topic more deeply. After today, I’ll be analyzing Boticelli’s The Birth of Venus.

Saturn, Father of the Titans

One of the Greek creation stories tells how the children of Earth and Heaven, which sprang from Chaos, gave rise to the Titans. The first Titans, Saturn and Rhea, in turn produced Jupiter (Jove, Zeus). Other Titans included males Oceanus, Hyperion, Iapetus, and Ophion; and females Themis, Mnemosyne, and Eurynome. These were the elder gods, who eventually gave way to Jupiter, Neptune, Apollo, and others. Hyperion was the original sun god, father of the Sun, Moon, and Dawn. When he is depicted, he’s quite glorious, and this glory was later bestowed on Apollo.

The Original Eve

In Paradise Lost,Milton referred to the temptation and fall of humanity by referring to Ophion as the serpent and Eurynome as a type of Eve. She certainly is well-represented in ancient cultures as the Great Mother or Great Goddess. Arising from Chaos, it was she who separated the water from the sky, which we see in Genesis was accomplished by G-d (YHWH). The myth of Eurynome pre-dates the most ancient of cultures, including that of the Greeks and Romans, and even her name is not strictly Greek. I find it particularly fascinating that she is water, the deep, the separator, the goddess, and also evidently either arose from water or was goddess over it. After separating the waters and the earth, she danced the world into creation, which is one of the most beautiful creation myths and among my favorite. When she caught the wind, she rubbed it into a serpent, Ophion. And we all know what happened afterward.

Probably most of us who are relatively well-read can see the parallels between this ancient mythology and Biblical accounts of creation and the temptation and fall of humanity. While some might doubt the authority of the Bible as a result–and I think this is why many rigidly superstitious evangelicals ban mythology from their home and private schools–I think that the universality and lasting influence of such symbols support their truth, rather than diminishing it. Whether that truth is literal or symbolic I’ll leave to the reader to decide for him or herself. Suffice to say, I see truth the more I learn about various myths.

I recently heard a Jungian teaching in which the theorist stated that Lucifer (Satan) was the missing fourth member of the quaternity of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, and that Christians had separated him out due to his individuation, which led to evil and darkness. Rather than retain the shadow, as have Hindus, they separate it out and allow only goodness in their religion.

 I disagree with this idea. I think that Eve is the fourth member of the quaternity in all her manifestations. I believe that the Great Mother, Queen of Heaven, Great Goddess, Eve, Mary, and the Church all are various symbols and representations of the divine feminine and all that is feminine in the human being. I don’t mean this in a “new age” way, but in the most fundamental way. Yes, Mary was a real human being; she was also individuated in the very same way as Lucifer, except that she was human and therefore perhaps even more fallible. The choice she made was toward wholeness and relationship, and away from fragmentation and splitting. I don’t think that Christianity at its ancient root, or even in its modern-day manifestations in orthodoxy or Catholicism, has split off its shadow side. The shadow side is represented in every mass. Rather, I think that because of the freestyle religion offered through evangelical Christianity, and particularly charismatic traditions, our scholarship, history, and tradition have fallen by the wayside and we no longer know who we actually are. This is why I write, and will continue to write, about myths, symbols, depth psychology, and all these matters from a Christian perspective.

Saturn as Father

As the second father, so to speak, Saturn is inconsistently depicted. Some indicated that he was the ruler of an age of purity and innocence, and others that he was the male counterpart of Kali, who devoured his young. Not so with Jupiter, who married Metis (Prudence), a metaphor for the good marriage if I’ve ever seen one. How many mothers have anguished over their wayward sons and prayed for a good wife to anchor him? Prudence does that.

Saturn was such an ogre that eventually Jupiter and his siblings rebelled, banished their evil counterparts in Tartarus (to which there are Biblical references, by the way) and inflicting other penalties on the rest. Atlas, for example, was condemned to hold the universe on his shoulders.

Saturn is Deposed

Jupiter, Neptune (Poseidon) and Pluto (Dis) divided the spoils and dominion of Saturn. Jupiter won the heavens; Neptune the oceans, and Pluto the realm of the dead. Together, the three brothers ruled earth and Olympus. Each brother had specific weapons and emblems of deity. Jupiter had thunder as his weapon and used a shield called Ægis; the eagle was his totem and bore his thunderbolts.

Juno (Hera) was Jupiter’s wife, and queen of the gods. Iris, the goddess of the rainbow, was her messenger and attendant. The peacock was Juno’s favorite bird.

Vulcan (Hephaestos), who made Jupiter’s shield, was the celestial artist and son of Jupiter and Juno. He was born lame and cast out of heaven for it. I have spoken of Vulcan before as just one example of an archetypal adopted child with special needs. Vulcan’s brother was Mars (Ares) the god of war.

The Birth of Venus

Jupiter lived large and is the symbol of bounty and sometimes excess. He had numerous lovers and produced numerous children. Venus (Aphrodite), the goddess of love and beauty, was the daughter of Jupiter and Dione, some say. Others say that Venus sprang from the foam of the sea, an archetypal symbol of the unconscious. It is this second story about Venus, of course, that Boticelli depicted when he painted The Birth of Venus.

Before launching into the myth of Venus, I thought it might be helful to post a brief refresher on the Greek ideas about the world into which Venus (and the other gods and goddesses) were born. I know that, unless I’m studying mythology, I forget the particulars and need to remind myself of them. I thought this might be true of others who don’t live with mythology day by day.

The Greeks, like many other ancient peoples, believed that the earth was flat and their country occupied the center of the world. The center of that center was Mount Olympus, the home of the gods. This was also known as Delphi, the familiar home of the Delphic oracle.

The flat, circular disk of the world was divided into two equal parts by the Sea (the Mediterranean). Surrounding the earth was a larger river called the River Ocean, which ran from north to south on the western side of the earth, and in the opposite direction on the eastern side. The Sea and all the rivers of the earth received their waters from the River Ocean.

The Greeks believed that different peoples occupied the four corners of the earth. To the north were the Hyperboreans, a happy, blissful people who never grew old and were never sick. They also never went to war.  To the south, near the River Ocean, lived the Æthiopians, a race just as happy as the Hyperboreans but even more favored than the northerners, for the gods often invited the Æthiopians to share their sacrifices and banquets.

On the western part of the earth, also near the stream of the River Ocean, was the Elysian Plain, where mortals who were particular favorites of the gods were taken without ever having to die. Also to the west lived giants, enchantresses, monsters, and other magical, mythical beings. The Sun and Moon rise out of the Ocean in the east and were driven through the air to the west by the gods to give light to all.

Mount Olympus, Home of the Gods

The gods lived at the peak of Mount Olympus, behind a gate of clouds guarded by goddesses called the Seasons. Through this gate, the gods could pass to and from the earth as they willed. Although each god had a separate dwelling, all met (when summoned) in the palace of Jupiter. The gods also gathered daily to eat in Jupiter’s great hall, their food and drink of ambrosia and nectar being served by the goddes Hebe. Apollo, the god of music, provided entertainment with his lyre, accompanied by the Muses.

The Gods

Though referred to as the father of gods and men, Jupiter (Zeus to the Greeks) had a beginning, being the son of Saturn (Cronos) and Rhea (Ops), who were both Titans (children of the Earth and Heaven, which sprang from Chaos). Already we see the parallels between the Greek and Roman ideas about our origins and the older Hebrew and Chaldean myths of creation. We see a race of beings who resulted from the union of gods (angels) and men; we have the heavens and the earth being created from chaos. Some may fear that common creation myths challenge the value of Biblical accounts, but I see it just the opposite: everywhere we look, we encounter truth. What we make of it is an individual decision, but I like to ask, what does it mean for me now?

In a second creation myth (the Bible has two also, remember?), the Earth and Love were the first beings. Love (Eros) issued from the egg of the Night, which floated on Chaos. By his arrows and torch he pierced and vivified all things, producing life and joy. There is much that a Jungian could do with this myth; for instance, we fear night (the shadow, our inner worst selves) because of its association with chaos; but loving what is rejected in the darkness (the rejected stone that becomes the chief cornerstone) produces life and joy. This is a familiar theme in depth psychology.

Saturn and Rhea and the other Titans eventually yielded their authority to gods such as Jupiter, Neptune, and Apollo. I’ll continue with a brief orientation to the rest of the gods so that the myth of Venus will make sense.

As we delve into the “Once Upon a Time” series about myths, I’ve thought a lot about the meaning of myths, how they function, how they give a person a point of reference, a perspective. In our first drawing class Sunday night, our instructor showed us just how essential right perspective is. He set a still life before us–pitcher, jar, dish, paint brushes–and gave us 20 minutes to draw it. We eleven students produced drawings of varying degrees of proportion to what sat before us. Afterward, the instructor drew the still life that he saw. His perspective was correct and beautiful because it was proportional to what was there. His trained hand had the ability to reproduce the image on paper, and his artist self drew the still life in his own style. We saw art created, and we saw myth happening, too, because our instructor showed us something of his culture of self.

When Jung and Freud talked about myth, although they had different approaches to the inner life of the human being, they referred not only to the stories of specific cultures, but also to myth as a fundamental aspect of human consciousness. The traditional anthropological view of myth is as a collection of stories, often supernatural or paradoxical in nature, that incorporate the beliefs of a given culture. Myths provide a container for the supernatural and the paradoxical or conflicting elements that the modern mind dissociates and denies.

Much of my life’s work has surrounded orphans, both actual and archetypal. I read some adoption blogs and do a lot of thinking and living surrounding adoption. Everywhere I see orphans. When I hear their cries or see their twisted, halting gaits, I know they are wounded and I want to help. I also know that on some levels I cannot help.  I know that Jung was correct when he wrote, “I am an orphan, alone,” because orphanhood is at the heart and core of every human being. Still, I am sympathetic to actual orphans, children who have been separated from not only their biological parents, but their histories, nationalities, cultures, and myths as well. I’m sympathetic to their plight as adults who are often barred from knowing the truth about their own histories. Anyone who has lost his or her history for any reason has suffered a substantial loss. The task of recovery is immense, and not for the faint of heart.

This afternoon I watched Matter of Heart, a film from the Jung Film Project (1975-1981) with interviews of many of Jung’s colleagues, two of his grandsons, and of Jung himself. One particular excerpt from an interview with Jung had me riveted, and I wanted to reproduce it here because it speaks to the heart of what I’ve been writing about:

A man is not complete when he lives in a world of statistical truth; he must live in a world of his biological truth. Man has always lived in the myth, and yet we think we are able to be born today and to live in no myth, without history. That is a disease! It is absolutely abnormal, because man is not born every day. He is once born in a specific historical setting with his specific historical qualities, and therefore he is only complete when he has a relation to these things. It is just as if he were born without eyes and ears when you are growing up with no connection to the past. From the [perspective] of natural science, you need no connection to the past; you can wipe it out–and that is a mutation of the human being (C. G. Jung).

What Jung said is true on several different levels. It is true of a culture that denies its actual history and replaces it with revisionist versions, and it is true in personal situations in which people are cut off from their own myths. Every relationship has its culture, every family, every work place, every community. When parents deny history to their offspring, the myth begins to die and the culture is not transmitted. On a larger and more crippling scale, when we worship science and declare that God is dead, we participate in a sort of spiritual genocide in which we act as though we actually can be born every day, as if we created ourselves. We can’t seem to look past one generation–that of our parents–into the distant past and see that we have carried a treasure of inestimable value to this present time, the one that was handed down from generation to generation and into our hands. Into our hands so that we could turn away from the magic our ancestors sat around the fire and talked about, the courage that kept them alive so that we could live, so that we could blog and blab and talk about. . . what?

What, indeed. There are blogs, and then there are blogs. There are those where honest people tell their stories. They are telling their stories and connecting themselves with their own myths, their family myths, looking for clan connections along fiber optic cables. There are those that are neurotically attached to not seeing, to remaining blind, to projecting their stuff out there so that they never have to own it, never have to be responsible, never have to have a connection between their inner cause and an effect. Those who are perpetual victims, who insist there is no light for them because of what someone else did.

I don’t believe in perpetual victims. I believe that God is one who seeks and saves that which is lost, regardless of what has actually happened to a person. God is after you, you His one and only. While it is wrong to have your history cut away, wrong that someone took it and hid it, wrong that someone failed to transmit it, wrong that for a million reasons you’ve lost your way; still, there’s a way home to your true self and you can find that way. You can find it through your dreams and your spiritual life, and the act of cutting a person off statistically does not negate his inner cosmology. Truth runs in the cells and in the spirit: there’s always a way home, even if we don’t know that we know the way.

This is my intention in writing about the myth of Venus first, because Venus is a type of Eve, who was the first created woman. She is the mother of all who have been driven from the garden; and she knows the way home.

Finding Their Way Home

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