Farewell to Athens, tiny flagstone streets of polished gray marble. Farewell little shops and cafes spilling outside, cheap and not so cheap copies of the ancient world hawked in windows (and jewelry, and silver, and gauzy cotton clothes, shoes and handbags and unapologetic porn). Farewell dogs snoozing on curbs, farewell to meandering Thucydidou Odos and our Hermes Hotel. Farewell sweet Native American music, flutes singing against ancient stone. Farewell domed churches and constant ringing bells. Farewell Acropolis, golden and majestic above the city, even trussed up in scaffolding painted white to match missing stones. I'll see you again someday.

Of Lady Demeter, goddess of the golden grain, I sing, and her fair-ankled daughter Perspehone whom the ancients addressed as Kore, The Maiden, in whose laughter is the promise of spring.

Now Kore was playing away from the protection of her mother, who is also the lady of the golden sword. In a meadow she found two flowers she had never seen before -- narcissus and hyacinth -- and gathered them to make a garland. Alas, had she known their history, she might not have been so grasping! Did not Narcissus waste away upon the riverbank? Did not fair young Hyacinth's blood stain the grass after he was struck by a faithless discus cast from his lover Apollo?

The lure taken, the trap was sprung. A chasm opened. Hades on a chariot drawn by dread horses erupted from the earth and bore her down. The jaws of the ground closed over Persephone's cry of Father. Futile, for Zeus her sire had secretly promised her as bride to lord Hades. No one knew what had happened save Hekate in the ear of her cave and Helios the all-seeing Sun.

Demeter searched for nine days, abstaining from food and drink. At last wise Hekate found her and reported what she had heard, suggesting they consult the Sun-god. Helios told them of the chariot and the maiden, and, more, he told them of Zeus' secret compact with Hades. Demeter stormed to Olympus to upbraid Zeus, but the king of the gods would not be budged, nor would other gods take her part.

Enraged, Demeter withdrew from Olympus and wandered mortal lands in the guise of an old woman in mourning.

She came to Eleusis, where she sat down by a well. The daughters of King Keleos and his wife Metaneira, drawing water, took a liking to the old woman and invited her home. She became nurse to the queen's infant son. Demeter found solace in nursing the child, feeding him divine ambrosia and cradling him each night in the hearth. Then might his fate have been blessed, but Queen Metaneira stumbled upon them one night and snatched her boy from the live coals.

Demeter cast away her mask of old age and loomed over the queen, filling the hall with radiant light and lovely fragrance. "What fools are mortals! I would have made him a god, but you have undone all!"

Demeter demanded a temple be built and sacred rites established in her name. In later years the Eleusinian Mysteries promised its initiates a blessed afterlife and provided hope to millions.

Yet Demeter kept pining for her lost daughter, and shut herself in the temple when it was built. The earth gave vent to her grief. Young grain buried beneath the soil did not rise again, barley lay where it was scattered, and the world went hungry. Finally Zeus sent messengers to Demeter begging for her to relent. Iris the rainbow came down to her, and many another god and goddess with rich gifts. Yes, Zeus begged, most often known for his conquest of other goddesses.

At last, seeing she would not be moved, Zeus sent Hermes down to Hades to ask for the maiden's return. Hades feigned to give consent, saying he would be a poor husband if he denied the commands of his brother and his wife's mother. Yet the lord of the dead contrived to win Persephone's heart with honeyed words, promising her great dominion as his queen and giving her one blood-red pomegranate seed to eat before returning her to the world above.

Mother and child rejoiced to be reunited, and Hekate with her torch stood by to grace them with light. Afterwards she became Persephone's attendant. But their joy was marred by sorrow. On learning that her daughter had taken food in Hades' dread domain, Demeter's heart was crushed, for now the realm below had claim to her.

On the counsel of Rhea, mother of Demeter, they arrived at a compromise (some tales make it the decree of Zeus). For two thirds of the year Persephone would dwell in the world above with her mother. Then spring would usher in new green and the world would blossom and grow fruitful. For one third she would reside with her husband beneath the earth. Soil would go cold, plants would die, and the earth would mourn along with lady Demeter.

Demeter reclaimed her throne in Olympus. She left instructions behind in Eleusis about the conduct of her new cult, maintained there faithfully for hundreds of years. Hear the words of a long lost poet from 2500 years ago:

Whoever on earth has seen these is blessed,
but he who has no part in the holy rites has
another lot as he wastes away in dank darkness.

(Homeric Hymn to Demeter translated by A.N. Athanassakis)

As usual, the night before visiting a new site, Dr. Chris Downing gave us a lecture on its myths and history.

Chris told of Demeter and Persephone in her own inimitable style. She added the story of Baubo, an old woman who cheered Demeter in the midst of her grief by offering her hospitality, serving her soup, and engaging in a shamelessly ribald dance that caused Demeter to burst out laughing.

Chris made several observations:

She noted the profound mother-daughter bond between Demeter and Persephone. Demeter lacked a mother, for she was one of the children of Kronos swallowed by him and freed by her brother Zeus when he overthrew his father. So Demeter had chosen to have a daughter, inviting Zeus to her bed and then kicking him out (an unusual reversal) and raising her daughter alone.

Gaia (see photo in preceding section) often appears in early Greek myths to galvanize a static situation. At the dawn of time, she enlisted her son Kronos to stop the sky-god Ouranos, who was imprisoning her children within her body. Kronos castrated Ouranos and replaced him as supreme god. Then, when Kronos kept swallowing his children to prevent their usurpring him, Gaia tricked Kronos into swallowing a stone so that she and Kronos' wife Rhea could rescue and raise the infant Zeus, who defeated his father in turn. Finally, the Narcissus flower is sacred to Gaia, and it is the very lure that draws Persephone away from her state as perpetual daughter.

Chris also discussed Hekate. In later times when feminine powers were feared, Hekate became a sinister figure, but in this early myth she is the torch-bearing goddess who reveals what is hidden. Chris describes her as the goddess of the crossroads and things in transition, ruling over unmourned souls who cannot yet cross to Hades and the Underworld. Kore is facing transition.

Chris noted variants of the Persephone myth in which she told her mother that Hades forced her to eat the seeds, but in fact, the girl knew what she was doing. Perhaps she wanted to become a goddess in her own right, apart from her mother's smothering care.

Finally, Chris pointed out a detail which shows the difference between mythic imagination and logical narrative: although Persephone is supposed to spend part of the year with her mother, in fact, whenever a hero goes to the underworld, Persephone is always there as Queen of the Dead.

The freeway follows the route of the old Sacred Way to Eleusis, fourteen miles through refineries, quarries, and a run-down factory town surrounding the ancient sanctuary. It is so small to have held something to great, even with the added fountains (long gone), stone courtyard, walls and gates added by the Romans.



Outside the gates, the foundations of a temple of Artemis and Poseidon -- strange bedfellows! -- remind me of Chris' words that the cults did not always follow the familiar patterns of myth. Poppies, verbena, and little yellow flowers sprout in profusion between cut stones and spill out into a meadow that Persephone no doubt appreciates.

Poppies adorn the stones themselves as well:



We pass the Well of the Maidens where Demeter once sat in disguise as the old woman Doso and was greeted kindly by the daughters of Metaneira. We process in through the massive Roman Propylon ("front gate") and follow a right-turning path that skirts the left flank of a rocky hill, at the foot of which is the grotto where an ancient drama of Persephone's return may have been staged. Before it lies the ruins of a small temple to Pluto/Hades. There I gather a few chamomile blossoms and stems of grain.

Continuing on the ancient pilgrims' path, I gaze furtively at carved stone blocks, trying to read inscriptions that would probably take me all day to decipher even were they intact. I am puzzled by low rising steps cut into the hill beside us -- what took place here?

At last, coming around to the back of the hill, we come to the Telesterion, sacred heart of this sanctuary and the ancient Greek-speaking world. Once it held benches for 3,000 initiates. Half the hall is cut into bedrock; the rest is now open to the sky. Birds sing brightly and the sun beats down on the exposed courtyard where torches and revelation once shone forth in darkness from a central shrine inside the massive hall.

Beyond is a museum containing offerings of initiates from the Mycenaean through Roman periods, including the massive "Kistophoros Karyatid" (1st century BCE) pictured above. On her head is a mysterious cylindrical chest called a cista, which would have held some sort of sacred objects for the rite. Oddly, she also wears a Gorgonion -- the little head of Medusa that's normally Athena's emblem. Eleusis had been conquered by Athens in the Archaic period, and the Mysteries reflect Eleusis' partial but not total assimilation under Athenian control. I'm still trying to identify this magnificent statue for certain: it could be Demeter, but at this point I'm guessing it's a priestess in the procession from Athens, which would explain the Gorgonion.

One wing of this small museum includes many Mycenaean offerings -- mostly little terracotta goddess figures. Another room is dominated by a gigantic "Proto-Attic" (archaic) amphora, the neck decorated with a scene of Odysseus and his men blinding the Cyclops, the belly painted with Perseus fleeing Medusa's sisters after beheading her. This vessel originally contained the bones of a child. Be sure to click the link above for an interesting video on the Odysseus Amphora.

There are a few stately (or stuffy) Roman statues dedicated by initiates, as well as a particularly fine Antinoos. This young man was the lover of the Roman emperor Hadrian. Antinoos drowned in the Nile while they were touring Egypt. After his death, the emperor commissioned statues of him all over the empire, to the chagrin of his stodgy subjects. They didn't complain too much, however, since Hadrian was one of the most competent emperors in Roman history.

Finally, there are numerous reliefs depicting Demeter, Hekate, Persephone, Hades, and the local god-hero Triptolemos, to whom Demeter was supposed to have given the secret of cultivating grain. The local church of St. Dimitra used to have a huge marble relief of Demeter, Triptolemos and Persephone as its lintel; the original is now in the National Museum and a replica at Eleusis. At left, Demeter holding ears of grain welcomes Pesephone home -- although Hekate isn't present, the torches evoke her.

After exploring the museum, I return to the grotto for a while to enjoy the flowers and quiet stillness of the place. Eventually we reassemble in the square outside the gates and reembark, taking the ODOS PERSEPHONOU -- "Persephone's Way" -- back to the freeway and up into the mountains of Attica.

The ritual of Eleusis is dedicated to both Demeter and Persephone. According to myth, Demeter is the first initiate.

Ancient sources say the ritual frees initiates from fear of death. Unlike most other religious festivals and cults of the period, it is open to men and women, slave and free.

It's the only non-obligatory ritual besides those to the healer-god Asclepios (undergone by the sick and wounded). That means it's voluntary, rather than one of the local holidays or festivals everyone attended.

One has to be initiated in spring, then one makes a pilgrimage to Eleusis repeating parts of the myth.

Initiates were bound to secrecy, and no one gave away the secret of what happened during the climax during the rites' 2000 years of operation. It's unusual for a Greek ritual in that it takes place a) underground and b) in the dark [but that seems to fit with the Underworld/secrecy theme].

In the late 1960s, some scholars [Joseph Campbell for one] guessed the kykeon, the drink quaffed during the ceremony, may have been hallucinatory ergot. Chris dismisses the theory -- between the drums, incense, and weariness from the long hike there was plenty enough to send one into an altered state without need for drugs!

Interesting point: during the Mysteries, men take women's names [and this is a VERY patriarchal culture]. Perhaps to enter a female [or Demeter's] perspective?

Aristotle says that at an experiential level, the feeling of death has changed for initiates. Perhaps we feel ourselves part of the chain of life? It's very different [says Chris] from Christianity's perpetuation of the individual.

There is one other major ritual to Demeter in Athens and the other Greek city-states: the Thesmophoria. It's held in the fall, all-women, and seems to be very old. For this 3 day ritual, regular business is suspended, women camped on the Pnyx hill and took over rulership of the city (symbolically).

It's fertility ritual -- planting in this part of the world is in the fall. They put the decomposed pigs sacrificed during the Eleusinian Mysteries into the fields.

Women -- all married women -- leave home for this ritual, one of the few times they were allowed to, one of the few times mothers/sisters/daughters saw one another as adults.

On day 1, each gets a chance to speak her own griefs, and Demeter listens. Day 2 they express their rage, swear, and spend the day venting. Cakes are baked in the shape of genitals. Day 3, women celebrate female sexuality. (Not lesbian, we think, but rather self-exploration).

Men are curious and frightened of these secret women-only rituals, however, it's not exactly women's lib: it is an inversion ritual like Carnival [or Saturnalia] that perpetuates the [male-dominated] status quo.

[In inversion rituals, accepted norms are reversed, but that doesn't mean they aren't still the norms: in fact, the rituals serve to highlight what "normal" is supposed to be. But I would guess that the Thesmophoria served as an outlet for women, normally shut away in the house and confined to a very limiting life.]

And that's it for Athens! Next, join me as I visit Delphi and the world-famous Oracle of Apollo in Ancient Greece Odyssey: Part Four!