Defining Greek Magic past and present
Magic, religious, or magicoreligious?
In his valuable overview Magic in the Ancient Greek World, Derek Collins opens with the important question regarding the understanding of magic and its differentiation from religion.
Attempting to define magic is a risky, if not impossible undertaking. As foremost scholar of Western Esotericism, Wouter J. Hanegraaff, remarks:
Magic is a wretched subject… it seems to resist all attempts at defining its exact nature, thus causing serious doubts about whether it refers to anything real at all - or if so, in what sense… Nobody has seemed capable of exorcising it from the academic vocabulary… Like the monster in cheap horror movies, “magic” always keeps coming back no matter how often one tries to kill it.
Wouter J. Hanegraaff, “Magic,” Cambridge Handbook of Western Esotericism, 393.
He goes on to outline the various attempts made to think about and discuss magic in academic scholarship, and the pitfalls involved, summarised in the slide below:
Hanegraaff eloquently explains why the oppositional triads are problematic, concluding that concepts of magic are particular to their context, voice, and intended audience. Collins echoes some of these perspectives, expanding on anthropological theories of magic, and ultimately focusing on ‘key concepts of sympathy, analogy, agency, causality, and participation,’ which inform his approach to exploring Greek magic.
Greek Magic in antiquity
Collins presents a series of dilemmas regarding how to define Greek magic, noting that although the word mageia (derived from the Persian maguš) is not attested until the 5th century BCE, and there is a distinct fluidity of magical vocabulary whereby pharmakeia (use of herbs and potions), mageia, goeteia, epoidai (incantations) and their derivatives are all used interchangeably in the literature of that period.
He thus concludes it is more important to focus on practices rather than terminology in order to ascertain what is meant by magic in the ancient context. He explores a number of such practices, including necromancy, healing and herbal practices, natural magic, divination, ritual purification, curses and binding spells, and questions whether there should be a differentiation between divine and mortal applications of magic.
It is this last point that concerns us here, since in exploring what I am calling Greek folk magic in the context of folk Orthodoxy, there will be reasonable queries regarding the distinctions between religion and magic. When, indeed, is magic magic, and when is it religion? Some readers may query whether we can call some of the practices I am highlighting, magical at all. It is here that Collins offers his most valuable insight (emphasis mine):
… to understand why magic looks the way it does for a given culture, we have to ask rather straightforwardly why it looks that way and not some other way. In other words, we have to investigate its history as magic – for instance were certain ritual actions always considered magical by the culture in question, or did a given object that was not formerly magical become so at some point in time? If we ask these kinds of questions, without getting too bogged down in our own preconceived definitions of magic, we have a better chance of grasping something of what Greek magic was in action.
However, what the Greeks called magic is often indistinguishable from their officially sanctioned cult practices – what we, but not even they, would call their “religion.” It therefore does an outsider no good to regard, for example, one form of purification as “magical” and another “religious,” if both fall under some commonly understood framework for what makes purification effective, or what makes it interesting or necessary to do. Those are the things that our questions ought to seek to answer because they bring us closer to what magic was for the Greeks. At the same time, it is important to recognize that both the terms magic and religion have limited value insofar as they artificially divide practices that for all intents and purposes can be the same. The distinction between magic and religion, [is] still employed by many Western scholars even today… [The] history is not of immediate concern… in antiquity, ritual practices often go without explicit labels…Derek Collins, Magic in the Ancient Greek World, pp. 24-26.
Collins also makes the important point that the distinction between magic and religion as terms became especially significant during the Protestant reformulation of Christianity due to the similarity of the Catholic sacraments with magic, as opposed to miracles which were the province of the church. This leads to a very different, historically and culturally dependent understanding of the terms, that highlight the difference between the Western and Eastern (with reference to the Orthodox Church) perception of magic; or perhaps, sanctioned versus unholy magic. This distinction may often carry through to the academic usage of the terms as well.
Collins builds this argument in his effort to create a conceptual framework for discussing ‘Greek Magic’ in the antique context, whereas my focus here at Thyrathen is explicitly on practices still in use today within the Orthodox milieu, along with their origins and evolutions.
Today, as in antiquity, officially sanctioned religious practices are sharply differentiated from ‘magic’ and ‘heresy,’ with annual church synods being held in response to ‘dangerous’ and ‘unholy’ practices that lead the flock away from the ‘righteous path.’
Unholy Magic according to Greek Orthodoxy
Unholy magic, according to the Greek Orthodox Church, roughly reflects the very same definitions as those used in antiquity:
Communication and communion with demons.
Divination and soothsaying.
Goetia: lamentation over graves and summoning of demons.
Goetia and the summoning of demons mixing psalms, saints’ names, and the names of Christ and the Theotokos (Madonna).
Incantations to bind couples
Pharmakeia and the use of potions for poisoning, drugging, or to cause lust.
Reading of omens according to birds, animals, or the heavenly bodies, prophetic dreams, superstition, belief in elementals.
Divination according to clouds.
Astrology.
Use of amulets.
Scrying with flames, ventriloquism, reading of entrails.
Spiritualism, ceremonial magic and curses.
“Running around with holy icons like maniacs and the possessed, through hills and valleys, banging this and that place with the holy icons to find lost objects and so forth.”
Source: f. Georgios Christodoulou, ‘The Twelve kinds of Magic,’ Holy Monastery of the Pantocrator, 27.02.2022.
The same source notes the magical career of St Cyprian and his subsequent repentance and beatification, remarking that his prayers, rituals, and guidance are sanctioned by the church. It continues by differentiating between ‘unholy magic’ and its practitioners, and rituals pronounced by a ‘true priest in the apostolic succession, whose power is granted by God himself through ordination that has been passed down an unbroken chain from the Apostles,’ which is considered ‘Divine intervention.’ In short, rituals (which amount to spells) intended to ‘break’ any of the spells on the proscribed list above, are sanctioned, and can be performed by priests as well as laypeople. Intention is everything, even if the form of the ritual (complete with tools, talismans, use of the elements and magical words and passes) is indistinguishable from proscribed magic.
What seems clear from this Orthodox definition of ‘magic,’ aside from the near-identical descriptions of ‘unholy’ magic as those of ancient goetia, is the significance of ordination and church-sanctioned practice itself defined by intention and magical goals. It does not condemn all practices that would be broadly defined as magic, only those causing harm, consorting with demons, disrespecting icons, or seeking to know the future (effectively to be more powerful than God). This is very specific, and it is worth noting that it does not extend to a number of other practices that are indistinguishable from magic.
The source highlights the blessings of St. Cyprian after his ordination, and emphasises that rituals conducted by an ordained priest, as well as those not falling under one of the proscribed entries in the list, are acceptable. Two such examples are found in the folk grimoire Kyprianarion still in broad circulation:
Incantations for Windburn
This is what erysipelas is called. It is named windburn because they think it is due to the wind (anemos-pyroma).
Treatment: Powdered bluestone (copper sulphate) is placed in water and given to the sufferer to drink and bathe the affected part. In addition, the priest blesses some vinegar or sesame oil and the patient rubs it in.
But there is also this spell: After we take some red (for the redness of the erysipelas) felt and a little hemp flax, from which we make three crosses, the felt is placed on the forehead of the patient and the three crosses on top. Then, using a large candle, we make the sign of the cross and burn each of the [hemp] crosses, saying: “St. Anargyroi the miracle workers. You received freely, now give freely. Windburn, bright burn, burning burn, exile this evil from the servant of God [name of patient].” This is repeated three times.
Note: The Anargyroi [silverless] saints are Kosmas and Damianos, who were doctors who treated people and animals for free, whence the epithet Anargyroi [silverless]. They mainly cure tumours and the glands. Once the patient makes the sign of the cross three times over a coin depending on his financial means, he says the short version of the apolytikion hymn of the Saints: “Saints Anargyroi the miracle-workers, repair our ills. You received freely, give freely to us.”
Another unpublished treatment
[Must be] performed by a priest. He takes a class of water, crosses it, and says: “In the name of the Father etc, may every evil be exiled from the servant of God (name of patient). Souroupath, selam, seratem, anymut, alanou, poutouchoun, patous. Pisetilan, ousenou, velachou, masigani, felekli, veviecham vestenu, ousmioloven, moynexim, kanekliou, akin, charkoum, vetouriona, asimelekila, netivacha, chachafet, navarchom, couvet, ilam, pilam, achim, ichifiachou, amen.”
Note: The priest who told us this spell is a priest in the village Katadata of the Province of Nicosia and claims that as soon as this is spoken, the erysipelas begins to fade.
Source: ‘Recipes’ from the collection of Physician and Folklorist Georgios Spanopoulos, in K. Velefontis, Kyprianarion, 1913. Trans. Sasha Chaitow, © 2024.
I will explore the power - and content - of spoken charms and incantations within Greek magical tradition more deeply in forthcoming pieces. The above example follows quite a typical form, reflective of equally typical “mainstream religious” incantations pronounced and performed within the context of Orthodox rituals such as baptism, which includes evocation of saints and a lengthy exorcism (Passalis 66).
The incantation against erysipelas does not stray into any of the “forbidden” areas listed earlier, and is similar to other blessings and exorcisms sanctioned, and indeed encouraged by the church in cases of illness. Variations on this evocation of the Sts. Anargyroi are found all over Greece, all with the same basic content (Passalis 75-76).
The negotiation with the saints (you received freely, now give freely) is also a potent characteristic of most, if not all typical Greek incantations, including mainstream religious ones. It also reflects ancient religious practices. Though of course sacrificial and votive offerings are not unique to Greece by any means, the perception of the relationship between deities and mortals within the Greek mindset has particular qualities that do differentiate it from those of other cultures, and especially Western Christian thought.
Colourfully summed up in an exclamation from Greek revolutionary hero Theodoros Kolokotronis, the Greek attitude to saints and deities is overwhelmingly one of negotiation, an acknowledgement (and sometimes grudging) respect of their superior power, an appropriate degree of fear, but not of obeisance.*
Also of note is the long list of “meaningless” words (voces magicae) in the last charm apparently dictated by a Cypriot priest. These are corrupted Arabic, Hebrew, Turkish and Greek words most probably deriving from the Hellenistic period, as also found in the Greek Magical Papyrae. Their use and similar forms of incantations are attested through the Byzantine period (Koukoule 1948, 240). They are not always consistent: other incantations against erysipelas in the same manuscript use different words, some recognisable (souroupa, selam, melan koutan, malaou, mantatou, laou, kontitou, of God the Father and […] Riona windburn…), some deriving from dialects, made-up words with recognisable meanings (windburn, bright burn, burning burn), and made-up or corrupted words whose meaning is quite lost.
Lost meanings are ascribed to a combination of the oral nature of transmission of these spells, often through a matrilineal line, or from man to woman to man, such as spells for the evil eye that can only be transmitted on specific days and to specific individuals.
Accented and spoken in Greek there is a rhythm and clear meter to the words that appears significant for the successful use of the charm. Similar prosodic features are found in canonical prayers within the Orthodox rituals. Pronounciation does matter because it affects the rhythm and prosody; these rituals originated in a period where Greek was spoken as it is today (the vowel shift had already occurred, and there is ample evidence for this in Church sources which remain unchanged over the centuries).
These poetic characteristics - both lexical and vocal - are of particular significance for exploring the power, impact, as well as the survival of these incantations, found across the Greek-speaking world and fortunately, recorded in many ethnographic collections from the mid 19th century onwards.
Magic or religious?
Collins’ statement that “what the Greeks called magic is often indistinguishable from their officially sanctioned cult practices” is as true now as it was in antiquity. He is writing within the discipline of Classics; Hanegraaff from the perspective of the field of Western Esotericism; both, in the excerpts shared above, are concerned with specific disciplinary terminology. From the perspective of Greek folklorist and social anthropologist Christos Passaris**, it appears that magicoreligious (following Loukatos, 1978, 102-104) is a useful determinant. This is the word he uses for all such incantations (epodai), after a meticulous argument regarding their use and context.
Not only does the term bridge the problematic nature of how magic and religion have come to be defined within academic disciplines, it also precisely reflects the nature of Orthodox ritual and folk Orthodox practice as sketched out above. Passaris’ work is also valuable because he has consulted a particularly broad range of studies: Greek and Russian scholarship alongside German, French, and English folkloric and anthropological studies, and has access to the same primary sources as I do, which remain in the original Greek. In this way he has managed to sidestep Western bias as well as the language barrier.
Given the history of attempts to differentiate between magic and religion, heeding Hanegraaff’s warning about the inherent hazards in so doing, the inherent Protestant bias colouring the use of the word in Western contexts and more recently, multiple academic attempts to fence it in, it seems that not doing so does more justice to the material than opting for either. We have a religion that openly performs magical rituals, and we have magical rituals that are almost indistinguishable from religion (whichever gods they call on). This will become important when we turn to questions regarding which material is appropriate for inclusion in which contexts.
There are many loose threads within this article - these will form springboards for future pieces. Until then…
*I use this example illustratively and somewhat tongue-in-cheek, as it could be argued that Kolokotronis’ attitude is more correctly influenced by his exposure to French revolutionary ideas, and it certainly does not offer actual evidence for a more generalised sense of irreverence. However, there is such evidence, that will form the topic of a forthcoming article. Readers are asked to take the illustration as it is meant, rather than as a formal argument.
** Christos Passalis, Neohellenic Charms: The power of the ineffable Logos in Greek Folk Tradition. Salonica, Romi, 2016.