by Jason Mankey
Once the sacrifice was completed, the men and women present at the ritual would separate. One group would conduct a vigil and wait for a sign from the god, while the other group would retreat to their wineskins and begin partying. Greek religion was extremely patriarchal, but when Pan was worshipped, women were generally on equal footing with their male counterparts. The women were just as likely to go and drink and make the men wait for a sign from the god. Once a sign had been observed, the two groups would reunite for the rest of the ritual.
In some Greek rites, religious activities included men and women hurling coarse insults at one another.63 Scholars generally think such diversions were meant to incite laughter, but if they were used in Pan’s rites, I think they may have had a different purpose: as a form of flirtation. When I was boy, I often teased the girls I liked in school, and even now, flirting between potential lovers sometimes involves a bit of teasing. I think a bit of mostly good-natured ribbing might have helped inflame desire before honoring the god.
Just what happened during the rest of the ritual is a rather open question. There are a couple of things we can say, though, with absolute certainty. Rituals to Pan involved dancing. Pan was a god of dance and of losing yourself (and your inhibitions) in that dance. The Greeks saw dance as an expression of joy, an emotion often felt by Pan, and one he liked to share with his followers.64
To accompany the dance, there would have been plenty of flute music. The flute was thought to bring about possession, in the best sense of the word.65 Music can change how we feel, and, perhaps most importantly, the syrinx (Pan’s flute) was thought to unite the energies of mortal and god and cause a feeling not much different from that of intoxication through alcohol.66 The music of the syrinx would have been a part of the ritual until its end at dawn.
Sexual activity was likely a part of Pan’s rites too. If you were looking for an orgy in the year 300 BCE, a ritual in honor of Pan was a likely place to find one. I’m doubtful that everyone at Pan’s rites participated in the more amorous parts of his rituals, but at the very least there would have been plenty of flirting. In addition to the sexual activity, wine drinking would have continued long into the night, ending at daybreak. (It was considered an insult to the god to end the ritual before sunrise.)
In addition to the music being played in the grotto, the women at the ritual would have made a terrible sound called a kragué. The kragué is an anguished sound, like the sobs of a family finding out that a loved one had been killed in war, or the bleating of a goat. The cry would have been panicked, fearful, and unpleasant.67 Its sound would have echoed off the walls of the grotto, mixing with the drunken revelry and the sounds of the flute.
This brings up a reasonable question: what’s the point of making a terrible sound in a ritual that is dedicated mostly to joy? I’m of the belief that panic and fear were ways to feel the presence of the god. When experiencing emotions like panic and fear, our consciousness shifts and we perceive things in different ways; the boundaries between the mundane and the more magickal are stripped away. A sense of the unexpected brings about heightened anticipation and plays into Pan’s role as a god of possession. (In Witchcraft, this type of activity plays out most vividly during initiation rituals into specific traditions.68 There, prospective initiates are often left to wonder what exactly is going to happen. This heightened sense of anticipation makes every initiation unique to the individual who has experienced it. Fear of the unknown makes us more aware of our surroundings and a bit disoriented at the same time.
Imagine for a moment a dimly lit cave dedicated to Pan and the nymphs of the local countryside. Feel yourself in the middle of that cave while the sounds of the syrinx, sex, and the kragué echo off its walls. Imagine yourself tipsy from drink and the erotic energy pulsating all around you. All of that power would weigh heavily on your shoulders, almost like a cloak. Witch rituals are built on raising energy, and the techniques used in Pan’s rituals would have raised a lot of it! A Pan ritual was a laboratory in which to mix joy and just a little bit of fear, creating an atmosphere unlike any other.
As the music and noise echoed off the walls of the cave, those celebrating would have believed Pan was present. Gods weren’t just invited to rituals; it was assumed by the Greeks that they actually showed up. Pan would have danced until dawn with his worshippers, his voice that of the syrinx and the cries of anguish from the women honoring him.
Dionysus
Pan is not the only horned god of the Greeks, and was far from being the most popular horned deity in the ancient world. Though not often thought of as a horned god, Dionysus most certainly (probably) is one. Not only did Dionysus take the form of a bull on numerous occasions, but he was also sometimes depicted with the horns of that animal. In addition, phallic worship was incredibly important in his cult. Away from the pomp and circumstance of temples and state celebrations, the worship of Dionysus required only “a wine jar, a vine, a goat, a basket of figs, and then the phallus.” 69
During the time of the ancient Greeks and then later the Roman Empire, worship of Dionysus was widespread. Statues honoring the god of the grape can be found from India to Great Britain and all stops in between. His worship took place in public temple ceremonies and figured prominently in the initiation-only mysteries of both the classical Greeks and later those of the Roman Empire. Dionysus was honored in the Mysteries at Eleusis 70 and in the Orphic Mysteries, where he was thought to be the “king of the world.” 71
Dionysus remains a popular god, but today his popularity and familiarity are dwarfed by that of Pan, who traditionally was depicted as a follower of Dionysus. Some of that is most likely because of Pan’s popularity in poetry (see chapter 11), but much of it may come down to Dionysus’s complicated nature. With the exception of Hercules, there are more tales of Dionysus from the ancient world than any other Greek deity, and with widespread worship and immense popularity come conflicting understandings of the god.
Today Dionysus is most well known as the god of the (grape) vine and its resulting wine. In mythology, it is Dionysus who introduces viniculture to the world, mostly as a gift to human beings. Not only is wine generally safe to drink (the alcohol in it killing bacteria), but its inebriating effects are seen by many as pleasant. Of course, wine also has some formidable downsides: not only the morning-after hangover, but also the ability to produce drunkenness—madness-adjacent drunkenness.
For many of us, a few extra drinks might only result in a few embarrassing stories the next day. But being touched by the drunken madness of Dionysus often had much more far-reaching consequences. It could result in loss of life and the destruction of family ties. To abuse the gifts of Dionysus is to dishonor the god, who, while a fan of intoxication, is not a fan of bad behavior and inebriation to the point of incoherence.
Figure 5: Detail of a Grecian urn showing Dionysus flanked by satyrs and maenads.
Dionysus was depicted in art as both bearded and clean-shaven.
When Dionysus chose to punish humans, he did so by driving them mad. The most well-known example of this appears in Euripides’s play The Bacchae, a story that is not for the faint of heart. There the punishment for insulting the god is death through madness, most notably when the Theban King Pentheus dies at the hands of his mother, who has been driven violently mad by Dionysus (figure 5).
But madness does not always have to be negative; that is the result only when Dionysus’s gifts are abused. When his gifts are honored through moderation and offerings, he’s been known to gift his followers with “divine madness.” Divine madness tears apart the veil that separates us from the divine. When this madness comes down upon us, we exist in a space shared with Dionysus. It opens up a portal to the artistic and magickal sides of ourselves that we often suppress. Madness in its best form brings us closer to the gods, while at its worst it separates us from the divine and those we love.
It’s easy to picture Dionysus as a god of life a
nd abundance, and I know that in my own practice I often honor him during the harvest. However, Dionysus is also intimately associated with death and the spirits of the dead. According to the Greek philosopher Heraclitus, “Hades and Dionysus, for whom they go mad and rage, are one and the same.” 72 Many Dionysian festivals explicitly honored the spirits of the dead, and in some traditions it was Dionysus who helped escort souls to the Underworld. This association with death also links Dionysus even more firmly to the greater Horned God, with whom he shares this association.
The myths of Dionysus are peppered with death. Not only do many of his followers and adversaries die, but he himself dies more than once. In some myths, Dionysus is the son of Zeus and Persephone but is ripped apart by Titans shortly after his birth. His essence is later implanted into Semele, the Theban princess who would become his mortal mother as well as the lover of Zeus. Semele meets her mortal death after being tricked by the jealous Hera into asking Zeus to reveal his true form to her. Unfortunately for Semele, the true form of Zeus was a lightning bolt, and his taking of that form kills his mortal mistress. Dionysus is saved by being sewn into the thigh of Zeus, who later “gives birth” to his son. The story of Zeus giving birth to Dionysus highlights the patriarchal nature of ancient Greek culture, but also serves to illustrate the power of Dionysus to overcome death.
Dionysus is the patron deity of my home, primarily because of the close relationship he shares with both my wife and me. Ari often laments that she’s “not liked” by Pan, but the affinity and affection she feels for Dionysus is quite real, and probably shouldn’t be all that surprising. Women have always been influential in the worship and story of Dionysus, and it’s not a stretch to say that in ancient Greece he was “the god of women.” 73 Dionysus was raised by women. He turned the most important mortal women in his life into genuine deities, and everywhere he went he was accompanied by women.74 During the Roman period, public worship of Dionysus was suppressed in many places primarily because women were the ones who led his cults!
The most well-known of Dionysus’s followers are the maenads, whose very name is linked to the madness given to them by Dionysus.75 The maenads are the female followers of Dionysus who feel and see the god in ritual and in wine but also experience him in moments of absolute silence. A maenad is a follower of the god who is capable of getting lost in his divine madness and will let nothing stand in her way of that.
For a god associated with both wine and the phallus, Dionysus was remarkably loyal to his wife, Ariadne. Once a mortal and the lover of the hero Theseus, Ariadne became a goddess upon marrying the god of the vine, who was captivated by her beauty. Deities such as Zeus and Poseidon have dozens of lovers (both male and female) in Greek myth, yet there are few tales of infidelity involving Dionysus. Did he have male lovers? Absolutely. Did he have lovers before Ariadne? Of course. But his myth makes him pretty comfortable with Ariadne (when he’s not married to Persephone, as is implied in the Mysteries of Orpheus).
Like Pan, Dionysus was something of a gender bender. He was thought by some to be effeminate and was known to dress in drag. In the ancient world, many of Dionysus’s most devoted followers were gay men, a trend that has continued into the modern age. In ritual, I once heard Dionysus referred to as “they,” and the pronoun is an apt one for the wine god. Dionysus was and is capable of appearing in a multitude of roles, which is not surprising for a god who is said to have invented theater.
Apart from Dionysus and Pan there are other figures that might be considered horned (or horny) gods. Often confused with Pan, Greek satyrs very much resemble the god of Arcadia. Many a satyr statue (also half-goat and half-man) has been mistaken for an image of Pan. In myth, however, satyrs lack the refinement of Pan and are far closer to the wild animals of the forest than to a rational and thinking deity.
Priapus, most frequently said to be the son of Dionysus and Aphrodite, was far more phallus than person, with his erect member often depicted as being comically large. Worship of Priapus differed wildly in ancient Greece. According to some accounts, Priapus was cursed by a jealous Hera while in Aphrodite’s womb, and with that constantly huge erection (even in the womb), it feels like Aphrodite was a victim of this curse, too. Priapus’s problem was payback from Hera for Prince Paris of Troy finding Aphrodite more beautiful than her. Aside from this story, Priapus seems to have been worshipped as a fertility and harvest deity. Interestingly, in some places he and Dionysus were worshipped as one and the same, further cementing Dionysus’s status as a truly phallic deity.76
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30. Ingri D’Aulaire and Edgar Parin D’Aulaire, D’Aulaires’ Book of Greek Myths, 90.
31. Borgeaud, The Cult of Pan in Ancient Greece, 6.
32. Borgeaud, The Cult of Pan in Ancient Greece, 47–48.
33. Borgeaud, The Cult of Pan in Ancient Greece, 55.
34. Borgeaud, The Cult of Pan in Ancient Greece, 45.
35. Borgeaud, The Cult of Pan in Ancient Greece, 48.
36. West, Indo-European Poetry and Myth, 282.
37. West, Indo-European Poetry and Myth, 282.
38. West, Indo-European Poetry and Myth, 282.
39. Borgeaud, The Cult of Pan in Ancient Greece, 180 and 109.
40. Borgeaud, The Cult of Pan in Ancient Greece, 66.
41. West, Indo-European Poetry and Myth, 282.
42. Borgeaud, The Cult of Pan in Ancient Greece, 63.
43. Burkert, Greek Religion, 259. Depending on the deity being worshipped and the particular rite, participation was sometimes limited by biological sex in ancient Greece, but not so with Pan and Dionysus; Burkert, 258.
44. Borgeaud, The Cult of Pan in Ancient Greece, 7.
45. Borgeaud, The Cult of Pan in Ancient Greece, 3.
46. Borgeaud, The Cult of Pan in Ancient Greece, 64.
47. Borgeaud, The Cult of Pan in Ancient Greece, 173.
48. Borgeaud, The Cult of Pan in Ancient Greece, 173.
49. Borgeaud, The Cult of Pan in Ancient Greece, 83.
50. Borgeaud, The Cult of Pan in Ancient Greece, 78.
51. Borgeaud, The Cult of Pan in Ancient Greece, 95–96.
52. Borgeaud, The Cult of Pan in Ancient Greece, 90–91.
53. Borgeaud, The Cult of Pan in Ancient Greece, 78 and 63.
54. Borgeaud, The Cult of Pan in Ancient Greece, 77.
55. Borgeaud, The Cult of Pan in Ancient Greece, 75.
56. Boardman, The Great God Pan, 33.
57. Boardman, The Great God Pan, 32.
58. You may be wondering where Palodes is. I share this wonder. No one is really sure what Plutarch was referencing here.
59. Merivale, Pan the Goat-God, 11–12. This footnote is in reference to the entire tale as told by Plutarch.
60. Borgeaud, The Cult of Pan in Ancient Greece, 153–154.
61. Borgeaud, The Cult of Pan in Ancient Greece, 166.
62. Burkert, Greek Religion, 67.
63. Borgeaud, The Cult of Pan in Ancient Greece, 169.
64. Borgeaud, The Cult of Pan in Ancient Greece, 169.
65. Burkert, Greek Religion, 172.
66. Borgeaud, The Cult of Pan in Ancient Greece, 120.
67. Borgeaud, The Cult of Pan in Ancient Greece, 171.
68. I spend a lot of time and over 20,000 words writing about initiations in my 2018 book
Transformative Witchcraft: The Greater Mysteries, also published by Llewellyn.
69. Otto, Dionysus, 164.
70. The Eleusinian Mysteries are best known for the myth of Demeter and Persephone (Kore) at their heart and their relations
hip to the change of seasons. I write about them in Transformative Witchcraft.
71. Kerenyi, Dionysos, 265.
72. Otto, Dionysus, 116.
73. Kerenyi, Dionysos, 52.
74. Otto, Dionysus, 142.
75. Otto, Dionysus, 94.
76. Otto, Dionysus, 165.
Chapter Six
Igniting the Fire:
A Pan Ritual For Two (or More)
In the ancient world people performed rituals for Pan when they felt like they needed to tap into his energies. Not surprisingly, the energy most people were interested in tapping into involved his voracious appetite for sex. Couples and groups would visit Pan’s grottoes in order to ramp up their sex lives, or perhaps reignite a spark lost to time and mundane circumstances.
In my own practice, I perform this ritual when trying to spice things up, and on certain occasions to add a little extra gravitas to my wife and I’s lovemaking. This ritual is also an opportunity to thank Pan for his many blessings in our lives, and perhaps to serve as a reminder that he still likes us, even if we’ve embraced monogamy. Because the “panic sexuality” of Pan is especially charged, I recommend performing this ritual only if you have an established relationship with the god and are performing this ritual with an established partner (or partners).