#asklepios
Theoi Summary - Asklepios
Ἀσκληπιός (ahs-klee-pee-ohs) - Asklepios AKA Asclepius
God of medicine, doctors, and surgery
Ouranic Deified Mortal and resident of Olympos
Symbols: Serpent-wrapped staff (Rod of Asklepios)
Animals: Snake
Colors: White
Plants/Herbs: Milkweed
Stones/Crystals: Citrine
Retinue: Hygeia, Iaso, Panakeia, Aigle, Akeso
Relations: Apollon (father), Koronis (mother), Epione (wife), Hygeia (daughter), Iaso (daughter), Panakeia (daughter), Aigle (daughter), Akeso (daughter)
Identified with: Vejovis (Roman), Paion (Hellenic), Imhotep (Kemetic)
Festivals: Asklepia (8 Ela.), Epidauria (17 Boe.)
Epithets: Paeon (Healer), Iatrus (Healer), Epius (Soothing), Philolaus (Lover of the People), Archagetas (Founder), Agnitas (Of the Chaste-Tree), Paedus (Boy), Cotyleus (Of the Hip-Joint)
*makes up a little hymn for Hygeia and Asklepios while I wash my handsies*
Ὀγδόη Ἱσταμένου, VIII day
From today’s sunset: eighth day of Elaphebolion.
The eighth day is always sacred to Poseidon and Theseus.
“Poseidon Asphaleios stands for the ogdoad.”
“The eight day of Elaphebolion is the day of the sacrifice to Asklepios and the proagon of the festivities (of the Great Dionysia)” - “The sacred day.” Singing the Paean and sacrifice in honor of the God Asklepios. Proagon of the Great Dionysia; meeting of the Iobakkhoi. The Proagon is the occasion during which the authors, choregoi, musicians, chorus and actors appear before the supervisors, as well as to the public, without masks and costumes but wearing garlands. A provisional stage was mounted in the Odeion and the chosen poets illustrated the subject of their works that will be represented during the Dionysia, before the God in the Theatre.
(Cf. Esch. Or. III 66; Symp. 1194 ff; Aeschin. Ctesiph. 63.67; Schol. Aeschin.3.66-67)
“The eighth and the ninth of the month that begins: these are the best days to accomplish the man’s works: (Hesiod) praises the eighth and ninth plausibly as they carry perfection (syntelestikai) and therefore he has dedicated them to the human activities…one (the eight), by having a perfect dimension, the other (the nine), by deriving from a perfect number (the three), bring to accomplishment the works undertaken in them.”
Schol. Erga, 772-773
(Greek votive marble stele. The dedicant, portrayed in small size, is standing in the left corner of the relief. The God Asclepius and Hygeia occupy the scene. Late 5th cent. BCE. Now in the Vatican Museums…)
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Polemokrateia
- Why does the snake shed it’s skin? - the boy asks.
The father smiles. His light is a tight embrace,
His voice - shimmering harmony, golden balm:
- Which truth do you wish to know?
- As many as there are, - the child giggles.
- That is too much, my boy. Know your limits.
Then, He speaks of an ancient king who found eternity,
Yet lost it to a cunning serpent, so now
The rascals rejuvenate themselves, leaving their skins like garments.
Yes, there is a herb - but only the vipers know;
No, if you seek that secret - you shall only find mortality.
But all too often, children listen but fail to hear;
And so, the stubborn young man finds that flower,
Or - who knows? - it might be Medusa’s blood;
Either way, it’s a slippery, chthonic mystery.
Some would say he has little need of it - he is a
Peerless healer, with steady hands and mind like volcanic glass.
Still, there are times when only a miracle will suffice,
And Asklepios is a saver, a giver: how could he keep it all to himself?
He brings them back. He orders Thanatos to retreat
With the quiet confidence of one who has
Sunlight inside his veins. But his limits find him
When the Lord Below and the Lord Above agree that enough is enough,
And strike him down. “All things end” - the ash whispers;
The serpent slithers away with it’s strange magic.
The father rages: this murder, equally just and unjust,
Must be avenged: so avenge He does, and one tale leads to another.
But the son… oh, mortality is a harsh lesson,
But even this ends: He rises strong out of cold embers,
Like a red bird, as He did at His first birth.
Clothed in a skin immortal. Older, wiser but still
A healer. Still stubborn, with piercing eyes,
Too smart for His own good. Truths, understood too late,
Are silver hairs in His unruly mane. Pain and hopelessness run like rats
From the God. May His touch reach you. After all, some miracles
Are small enough to be allowed. Snakes have their ways.
Today’s Flickr photo with the most hits: this votive penis, from the sanctuary of Epidauros, Peloponnese, Greece.
It was probably donated as an act of thanksgiving (or intercession) by a man who was (or hoped to be) cured of some malady affecting his tackle.
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