ATHENS, Greece – We are gathered, dressed in black, in the shade of the remains of the temple of Dionysius. The ancient altar is set with wildflowers, crowning an effigy of the God of Spring. Brilliant yellow acacia blossoms punctuated with white achillea (yarrow) blooms and red mastic berries evoke springtime in real-time: harvested from the surrounding area, their beauty is an offering to the Gods, and a reminder of their connection to the earth’s cycles. I walk over, and place the wildflowers I’ve picked on the altar, alongside the offerings of the other participants. The aged marble altar is topped with a labrys, or double-headed axe, the symbol of the polytheist group, Labrys, hosting today’s ritual. Braziers of fragrant livani (frankincense) incense decorate the space, and as the invocations to Dionysius begin, the large brazier burns dried grapevines, a sacred plant to the god of Revelry and Ecstasy.
But the real ecstatic ritual is yet to come at the new moon. We are gathered instead on February 18th to celebrate the third and final day of Anthestiria. Both a month in the Athenian calendar and a holiday cycle dedicated to Dionysus, it is a gradual buildup to spring, a way to welcome spring in its own, slow coming. This day is known as Chytroi, and celebrates the memories of the deceased with the coming of spring. It might sound unusual to Western polytheists, Pagans, Witches, and spiritual practitioners to celebrate the dead in this time of new life, but that was exactly the connection the ancients saw. Because so much life was coming into being at this time – spring is in full swing here in Greece – it was believed to be a festival where the dead walked amongst the living. To honor them, we called on Cthonic Hermes, a psychopomp (guide) to the Underworld, as well as Persephone Queen of the Underworld in conjunction with Dionysus.
Roman marble sarcophagus with the Triumph of Dionysos and the Seasons, c. 260-270 CE, Metropolitan Museum New York [Haiduc, Wikimedia Commons, public domain
Chytroi means ‘the Pots’, referring to the mourning dish provided as an offering. This dish is very similar to the mourning dish still made in Greek Orthodox churches in memory of the dead, called coliva. It includes pomegranates, the symbol of the cycle of life and death, barley, and parsley, amongst other things (usually nuts.) Milk was also offered, as a symbol of life; and a pomegranate was ritually smashed. All offerings were buried as compost. We also poured out wine for our own deceased and wrote their names to be burned in the brazier with the incense.
Fast forward to the new moon: March 9th, 2024. Now is the time for the ecstatic, cathartic release that is the Falliforia Parade. The dead have been honored – spring has been invited – and there is only one thing left to do. This is a parade to honor Dionysus through ritual madness. Last year, I attended this festival timidly, looking more at the historic significance and spiritual implications of this festival’s revival in modern times. But this year, I committed fully to the ecstasy and excitement.
This is a procession to invoke Dionysius to join in the revelry. Whereas in ancient times this celebration was a cathartic, orgiastic, all-night event, ours was instead a spectacle parade inviting all to participate. From unsuspecting tourists who left their dinner tables to join us as we walked past, to devotees who made their own masks and costumes (like me) we coalesced into a beautiful, 400-person procession. Hosted again by Labrys, an inclusive Hellenic polytheist group, we began the 3-hour procession at the base of the Acropolis. It began with a blessing led by Christos Pandion Pannopoulos, the leader of Labrys, pouring out wine before the effigy of Dionysius and inviting him to join us in our procession. He came readily: I was struck by his presence, and only felt it strengthen as the festival went on.
Bacchanalia by Alessandro Rosi (c.1670 – public domain)
Dressed as maenads and satyrs – the female and male followers of Dionysus – we walked through the most ancient parts of the city following a 6-foot tall, 2-foot wide, bright red phallus. Carried vertically by four devotees, and followed closely by a 10-foot effigy of Dionysus carried by another, this gives the impression of a… fertile Dionysus leading the crowd. Many of us carried imitations of Dionysus’ thyrsus staff, a long stick with a pinecone tied at the top, representing fertility, and vines and taeniae (sacred ribbons, usually red) decorating its length.
We yelled, whooped, and chanted, the high-pitched, animalian screams ringing out like sirens over the drum beats, alalala. The chants we spoke are known as Bacchus invocations: “eví, evá, Io Bacchus!” Some may see a similarity in the “Io, Pan” invocation popular in Western Paganism, and this is no mistake: Pan and Dionysius are deeply connected as gods of the forest, and in different mythological sources there are implications that Dionysus is a later, Hellenic view of the more ancient folk god Pan.
We stopped several times to honor the phallus through song and sacred dance. The songs sung were bawdy, lustful tales traditionally performed in folk celebrations. These songs often have a radical message against political oppression as well, such as one that was sung about a man asking not to be buried in a churchyard, but instead to be buried at the crossroads with his erect phallus sticking up out of the ground as a hitching post for the king and a… seat… for the queen. Another tells about the orgiastic activities involving three passing nuns. And another (more tame) folk song encourages participants to drink, and pass along the wine chalice to each other.
Dance is an offering, a prayer, a sacred act included in most ancient rituals. When we stopped, often in front of an ancient temple, the phallus-bearers placed it upright, and then we danced the ancient, sacred dance of fertility around the erect phallus. The parade also ended, right in front of the Acropolis from the bottom of the hill, with an ecstatic, 30-minute dance.
The ecstasy, freedom, excitement, and pure liberation is hard to put into words. Like a specter moving through the crowd, Dionysus’ energy was palpable: a pure, unadulterated joy that inspired even the quietest, most reserved participants to cheer and yell along with us. Spreading his raucous energy, it felt like the purest energy of the divine masculine. His presence was not what some might expect. He is safe and inviting, with pleasure and self-expression at the forefront of his message for us. Dancing continuously in a parade with hundreds of people for 3 hours sounds exhausting to me on a normal day: but on this day, it was an out-of-body, purely blissful experience. As we await the official coming of spring with the return of Persephone from the Underworld at the Equinox next week, it is safe to say: the energy of fertility is in the air, and spring is certainly on its way.
Addendum
Magna Graecia, which translates to “Greater Greece” in Latin, refers to the coastal areas of Southern Italy and Sicily that were colonized by ancient Greek settlers starting in the 8th century BCE. These colonies were established by various Greek city-states, such as Athens, Corinth, and Sparta, among others. The Greek colonies in Magna Graecia played a significant role in the spread of Greek culture, language, and civilization throughout the Mediterranean region. They also contributed to the development of trade, agriculture, and urbanization in the region. Some of the most notable cities in Magna Graecia include Syracuse, Taranto, and Tarentum.
Naturally, one Magna Grecia site called Two Sicilies, posted images from Naxos.
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