Divine Punishments - Bechukotai - Mythic Torah

Welcome back to Mythic Torah, my regular article investigating monsters, heroes and gods in the weekly Torah reading. This week's reading is Bechukotai, the 10th and final reading of the book of Leviticus, that focuses on the rewards and punishments associated with following or disobeying God's commandments.

I've been a bit sick this week so I'm afraid that Mythic Torah is shorter than usual. Hope to be back to normal by next week, when we begin Bamidbar, the book of Numbers.

Prometheus Bound

When the Greek gods decide to punish someone, they go about it with a certain zeal and creativity.

Think of Sisyphus, forever condemned to pushing the same rock up the same hill, as every time it reaches the top it falls all the way to the bottom.

Or Tantalus, eternally suffering with unquenchable thirst and insatiable hunger, with both food and drink just out of reach.

Or the Titan Prometheus, bound to a rock where an eagle eats his liver every day, only for it to grow back every night.

The Norse Gods too could be extremely creative in their punishments.

Like Loki, punished for his many crimes by being bound beneath the earth while a venomous serpent drips poison in his eyes, with his wife catching most of the poison in a bowl until the bowl is full and she has to turn aside to empty it out, leaving Loki to writhe in pain.

God, by contrast, seems to lack a certain amount of imagination.

Food Fit For God - VaYikra - Mythic Torah

Feasting in Valhalla

Does God need to eat?

Now you make think that the answer is 'obviously no', of course God, who has no corporeal body in any literal sense of the word, does not need physical sustenance from food and drink. But the Ancient Greeks, and other ancient cultures, would certainly have disagreed with you - the Gods of Olympus dined regularly on nectar and ambrosia in order to maintain their youth and immortality. In Norse mythology too, the Gods of Valhalla feast regularly alongside the Einherjar, the honoured dead who were slain in battle.

As we begin the book of Leviticus (VaYikra) with its long descriptions of the sacrifices that had to be brought in temple times in various life situations, we have to ask ourselves this question about the God of the Bible, and consider what the answer might mean about the Torah and its meaning for us today.

Why might we think that God eats?

Well, the Mesopotamian epic of Gilgamesh, that predates the Bible includes a really interesting description of how the gods relate to sacrifices, in an image that is both resonant and dissonant with this week's parasha.

Sleeping Giants - Reflections on Parashat Shelach Lecha

Gigantomachy, war of the giants, is my new favourite word.

Originating from Greek mythology, the idea that in primeval days great battles were fought against Titans and Giants is common to both Classical and Norse myth - but it also occurs in the Biblical tradition.

The Bible has a three-fold tension with giants, recurring at three key moments in the history of Israel - Gen 6 that discusses the Prediluvian Giants (pre-flood and another of my favourite words), Numbers - Deuteronomy, that deals with the giants of the land, and the story of King David and his followers in Samuel, Kings and Chronicles, that show his great warriors slaying the last of these foes.

But there is a key difference between our wars with the giants and those of other mythologies. The Greek Titans were defeated by Zeus, the Frost Giants were constantly fought by Thor and Odin. Yet in our stories, the giants are fought by normal human beings.

Or were they also giants?
 

Dreamscape - Behind the Scenes

So far I've posted seven tales of the Dreamscape, posted in the order in which I wrote them. They are:
•Gladiator
•Birth Day
•Sir Gallant 1 and 2
•Genesis
•Prophecy
•The Dinner Party 1 and 2
•Woman of his Dreams 1 and 2

But I haven't written anything about why or how I began to write this cycle. I decided that that ought to change.



Origin of the Dreamscape
I've been working on stories in this world for a long time. I distinctly remember when the first words of Gladiator came into my head as I was walking to the train station in Bristol having spent the weekend with my future wife. Suddenly the opening words coalesced in my mind, and I had to keep repeating them over and over so as not to forget them before I had a chance to write them down.

That was about 7 years ago.

The initial idea was, I believe, the science-fiction element - a dystopian London where the homeless are driven underground and forced to live in the dark and filth. There I imagined they created their own parallel reality of dream and fable, a place where no one suffered and everyone could have all they wanted. I believe that the element of the dream world was very much inspired by Neil Gaiman's Sandman (which is my favourite book of all time and if you haven't read the series, you really must).

Development of the Tales
But what made this idea better than many others I've had over the years, I think, is that this world provided a frame for far more than just science-fiction stories. In this world of dream and fable I could explore ideas of religion, fantasy, mythology and fairy-tale.

I realised that within this one world I could tell stories in every genre I love.

(more after the jump)

Tales of the Dreamscape - Prophecy

    The night was unusually dark for the Dreamscape. The moon was obscured by a thick cloud and there was a hint of rain in the air. The land was bare and flat - even the crystal grass looked grey.
    A man loped through the darkness, stepping hurriedly over streams and stones. He pulled his coat close around himself and lowered the broad brim of his hat. A black patch hid his left eye completely but you could still see some scar tissue around the socket.
    Just as the first silver drop of rain struck the ground, the man reached the entrance to a cave. A fire burned in the hearth, shedding an orange glow into the night. The smell of cooking meat filled his nostrils.
    “Welcome stranger,” a woman’s voice lilted from the shadows at the back of the cave, “have you come to share my fire?”
    “Indeed I have,” said the man, “that is if I am welcome.”
    “All are welcome to share the flames.” The woman stepped forward wrapped in green from head to toe, her raven hair shining against the night. “But to share the meat there is a price.”
    “So I have heard,” the man replied, “and what is your price today?”
    “A game,” she answered, “a simple game of riddles.”
    The one-eyed man smiled to himself. “The only game worth playing. Who shall begin?”
    “I believe that that is my right,” the green woman answered. “And so I shall commence. What is your name stranger?”
    The stranger nodded, smiling quietly.