By the Gods!

Sango

Alright, let me level with you here: when it comes to the mythic structure of the Yoruba religion (the Yoruba being one of the largest ethnic group in West Africa), I’m not exactly in my comfort zone. I’m familiar with the concepts, but the specifics are new for me, as I’d imagine they’d be for many of you. That said, we’re setting on the proverbial goldmine of interesting info, so let’s dive in by talking about Sango, the god of thunder and lightning, and the progenitor of the Yorubas themselves.

Sango (also Shango) has a variety of stories floating around about between different cultural groups, and it’s difficult to hammer down any consistency in the myths, but there was definitely somethin’ going on with those wives of his, Oba, Oshun, and Oya. Sango had three wives and three families, who in some stories he lived with at the same time in the same compound, thus creating the first Full House scenario centuries before it would be popularized and perfected by Saget and Stamos. 

In one of the Yoruba stories, Sango is trying to get rid of his powerful and ambitious generals, Timi and Gbonka, by pitting them against each other. Each of them wields the power of fire, and after what can only be an incredible elemental battle (á la Avatar: Last Airbender, probably) Timi is slain. Gbonka then asks to be burned alive, and is reduced to ashes. However, three days after his death, he is resurrected (alert: be aware of diffusion and popular mythological facets being borrowed and reused between cultures!). His resurrection shames Sango, who then leaves town and takes his own life, supposedly. It was the hope and belief of the Yoruba, however, that he did not truly kill himself, but instead left to watch over the people from on high. The followers of Sango would kill any who claimed that the god had taken his own life with the lightning they had been allowed to wield by their now-gone lord.

In Haitian Vodou, Sango is seen as a more powerful god of thunder and lightning, but the Yoruba stories venerate him as a legendary, mostly-human founder of their line, and attribute fewer omniscient qualities to him, instead seeing him as a holy ancestor. As we’ve seen before, it’s only natural for a degree of deification to filter its way into veneration in polytheistic and/or natural religions. Hey, when I think about my great-great-grandfather, you’d better believe he’s shooting fire from his fingers and riding a manta ray through the sky.

Caligula

We recently talked about Augustus, the first Emperor of Rome, and how he had been placed in the Roman Pantheon of Gods posthumously. He was a fairly amazing gent, after all—what harm could there be in worshipping him as a transcendant spirit akin to those who wrought the world from Chaos? A few emperors down the line, though, came Caligula. This guy took deification to a new, literal (probably quite embarrassing for Romans at the time) level.

When Caligula (whose real name was Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, with “Caligula” being a nickname meaning “little soldier’s boot”) ascended to the role of Emperor, things went well at first, and we was beloved among the people throughout the vast empire. As you might imagine, however, all of that love, all those sacrifices in your name, all the knee-bending and praise might eventually go to one’s head. And it did. Oh, did it ever.

Eventually, Caligula’s political payments for support, luxury and extravagance exhausted the Roman treasuries, and there was a wee bit ‘o famine. Despite the proverbial and literal belt-tightening occurring throughout the empire, Caligula went on a construction spree, and didn’t do much to disprove the accusations of his fiscal inadequacy. About this time, he got wound up in a few sex scandals, too, and was said to be extra-perverted, even among the hedonistic Roman upper-class. Now that’s an accomplishment.

Caligula clearly believed that he was the bees knees, and then began making it a state requirement that everyone else think the same. He declared himself a living god. The story goes that, when several kings came to Rome and each argued about the nobility of his own descent, Caligula burst out “Let there be one Lord, one King!” and I have a sneaking suspicion that he was referring to himself. He began to appear in public dressed as Hercules, Mercury, Venus, and Apollo to name a few of his costumes du jour, and began referring to himself in documents and in person as Jupiter. After a few years of this, he told his court that he wished to be worshipped as Neos Helios, meaning “New Sun,” and was represented as the Sun God on Egyptian coins.

Eventually Caligula was assassinated through a plot devised and carried out by his own Praetorian Guard, the elite men trusted with guarding the Emperor at all costs. You know you must’ve screwed something up when the guys blood-sworn to protect you bring the hurtin’.

It’s not like Caligula was the first guy to claim divinity, but he sure went about it in a big way. Dressing up like Venus, the goddess of love, takes cohones no matter when you’re from.

Augustus, Emperor of Rome

By now, I’m sure you know that the Romans had more than a few gods back in their day. The Roman Pantheon, brother to that of Ancient Greece, was growing every day as it incorporated the deities and venerated warriors/prophets/legends of conquered and soon-to-be conquered civilizations. However, this still wasn’t enough to slake their intense thirst for more things to pray to. In the days of the Republic (before 27 BCE) Generals and other men of merit would occasionally be raised to the status of god posthumously. A big example of deification like this came in the form of Augustus, the first Emperor of the Roman Empire.

Born Gaius Octavius, he was raised to the adopted son of Julius Caesar upon Caesar’s death, and began his path to glory. He became a Consul of the Roman Senate, (a position of immense influence and power) and received an enormous inheritance from his dead adoptive father. Julius Caesar’s death had thrown the Republic into a state of turmoil the likes of which had not been seen before, and Octavius formed a Triumvirate with the generals Lepidus and Marc Antony to take control of the wide lands of the Romans, and destroy those they saw as rebels. Octavius proved time and again that he was a brilliant tactical, political and financial leader, and brought prosperity to his people. Eventually destroying Marc Antony in a later clash, Octavius soon found himself without Roman enemies to dispatch, named himself Emperor, and turned his attention outward, to expand the territories of the rich empire.

At this point his name was changed, again, to Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus (Augustus meaning “the revered one”), and he initiated the period that would come to be known as the Pax Romana, or “the Roman Peace”—a period of stability and wealth. Augustus, in his time, greatly enlarged the empire’s territories, developed networks of roads, established a standing Roman Army and the Praetorian guard, and basically set every recognizable tradition and protocol that would make the Empire great for centuries to come. Upon his death in 14 CE, he was declared a god by the Roman senate. The people were told to worship him just as they would Jupiter and the established pantheon, and his legacy certainly had a “divine” vibe. Each emperor after would adopt the names Augustus and Caesar, so beloved and renowned had the original Augustus been. The month of August, too, receives its name from the first Emperor; the sixth month of the Roman calendar, Sextilis, was renamed Augustus in his honour. What a guy!