During the first few centuries CE, there arose many mystic religious movements that combined elements of Platonic philosophy, practices drawn from traditional cult, and newer doctrines that adherents claimed were revealed to them directly by the gods. One of the earliest and most influential of these movements was theurgy, which particularly emphasized the importance of worshiping the gods through ritual; the word theurgy, in fact, derives from Greek words meaning "divine" and "work" and thus could be translated as "divinely oriented actions." In insisting on the importance of ritual, theurgists set themselves in opposition to other, contem­porary mystics such as Plotinus (205-69), who held that humans should worship the gods and improve their own souls through contemplation and the study of philosophy alone. Below the surface of this debate lay other vital issues of the time. The belief that contemplation and philosophy alone were adequate aligned with the prem­ise that human souls did not completely descend from the divine sphere into incarnation, whereas the theurgists' belief that ritual was a necessary adjunct aligned with the assumption that souls did descend into human bodies-and thus, that rituals performed in the material world, using material objects, were psychically therapeutic. Those who espoused only contemplation and philosophy portrayed the material world as a source of pollution; those who also embraced ritual believed that even its lowliest parts were charged with potentially salvific divine power.

Theurgy's sacred texts were dactylic-hexameter Greek poems known as the Chaldean Oracles, allegedly recited by Apollo and Hecate either during epiphanies or through the mouths of possessed mediums. Their style and content suggest that they were composed during the latter half of the 2nd century. We now possess only fragments of these Oracles, which were quoted by later exegetes and critics of theurgy, but a substantial body of longer texts once circulated widely, attracting interest among philosophers and mystics throughout later antiquity. lamblichus (2-45-325) and other late antique writ­ers composed commentaries on the Chaldean Oracles, seeking to interpret them both in their own right and in comparison to other sacred writings such as those attri­buted to Orpheus and Hermes.

Theurgy was said to have been founded by a man named Julian, who came to be known as "the Chaldean," and his son Julian, known as "the Theurgist." The  Chaldean Oracles supposedly were delivered to the wo Julians. (The application of the adjective Chaldean to the elder Julian and the Oracles probably reflects an attempt to lend exotic authority to what were essentially Greek and Roman practices and beliefs, as ancient Chaldea was regarded as a source of arcane religious knowledge.) Whether these men actually existed is open to debate, but ancient sources describe the younger Julian accompanying Marcus Aurelius on campaign and aiding him in battle by creating masks that threw thun­derbolts, by splitting rocks in half with magical com­mands, and by bringing on a rainstorm that saved the army from dying of thirst. He also was credited with ending a plague in the city of Rome. Like most mystic and esoteric religious systems, theurgy passed its doc­trines and rites from individual to individual. Theurgy's most famous follower was the emperor Julian (33r-63), who was initiated into its mysteries by Maximus of Ephesus.

Theurgy adopted Middle Platonic metaphysical and cosmological doctrines, including transcendence of the highest god, who is often referred to in theurgy as the Father. The Father was characterized as pure Intellect (Nous) and understood to consist of pure, fiery light. Out of the Father sprang various nontranscendent emanations, all of whom had cosmogonic and salvific roles; these entities were also made of light, although of lesser purity. Most important to the daily life of the theurgist was an emanation called the Cosmic Soul (Psyche), whom they identified with the Greek goddess Hecate. She was imagined to dwell between the earthly and divine realms, dividing the two and yet facilitating the passage between them of both the individual mortal soul as it ascended into the heavenly realm and various divine benefits as they descended into the earthly realm. She was also credited with teaching the theurgist many rituals. As in many other Middle Platonic systems, matter (hylé) lay at the bottom of the ontological scale and reflected the divine Ideas or Forms only imperfectly. Because of this, matter might induce corporeal passions that would lead the theurgist astray. Both philosophical training and rituals helped the theurgist to overcome them.

In terms of ritual, theurgy bore many resemblances to mainstream Greek and Roman religions insofar as it included purifications, initiations, and various "magical" rites such as the invocation of gods by their secret names and the manipulation of natural materials such as plants and stones. But it also developed special rituals designed to bring about an encounter (systasis) between a theurgist and a god. Many of these focused on the theurgist receiving divine light and then incorporating it into his body and soul. During a systasis, the theurgist might re­ceive further information about how to perform rituals, might simply improve his soul through its encounter with divine light, or might, through incorporation of this light, cause his soul to ascend temporarily into the divine realm (anagôge), where it could benefit from gazing upon divine beauty.

lamblichus's treatise On the Mysteries gives general information about how such rituals were supposed to work; specific instructions for some of the rituals are found in fragments of the Chaldean Oracles and comments of their exegetes. The most notable anagogic technique was the ritualized inhalation of sunlight, understood to be the material manifestation of divine light (a detailed description of a very similar process is found in a slightly later document commonly known as the Mithras Liturgy, which may have been influenced by theurgy; see PGM IV-475-829)

But lamblichus and others emphasized that, in addition to everything that the theurgist himself was to do, divin­ity itself had to be present and cooperative before anagôge could occur. Given this, the term theurgy can also be interpreted to mean the work of the gods upon mortals. Our texts hint that, after bodily death, the purified soul of the theurgist had the right to remain in the angelic realm, but was expected selflessly to descend once again into incarnation, in order to help the souls of others reach perfection.

Hermeticism

Between the ist and 3rd centuries CE, a set of texts emerged in Hellenized Roman Egypt under the name of the god Hermes Trismegistus, an amalgam of the Egyp­tian Thoth and the Greek Hermes. (The epithet Trismegistus [Thrice greatest] grows from the Egyptian habit of forming superlative adjectives through repetition; see the description of Hermes on the Rosetta Stone, Greek line 'g.) With a reputation and wisdom that dwarfs anything attested for his classical Greek counterpart, the Egyptian Hermes had a special insight into the hidden workings of the universe as well as wide-­ranging expertise in techniques of harnessing the cosmos through magical rites. He spoke in a language familiar with many of the major intellectual currents flow­ing through Roman Alexandria, including Middle Platonism as well as gnostic, Jewish, and Egyptian theologies.

The chief surviving tracts are seventeen short Greek texts from the Corpus Hermeticum (1-14 and '6-'8) and the longer Latin Asclepius. These are to be supple­mented by the Coptic Nag Hammadi Codex 6.6-8 (mid-4th century CE); Greek excerpts from Stobaeus (5th century CE); the surviving Armenian translation (6th century CE) of the Definitions o f Hermes Trismegistus; the smaller Fragmenta Hermetica, quoted in Greek, Latin, and Syriac authors from the 3rd to 13th centuries CE (Nock and Festugière 1945-54: vol. 4); and two small pieces of the Vienna papyrus, Papyri Graecae Vindobonenses 29456 recto and 29828 recto. In addition to these texts, often called the "philosophical" Hermetica, we find fragments elsewhere of less system­atic "technical" Hermetica that cover the arcane subjects of astrology, astrological medicine, alchemy, and the magical properties of various substances.

Although we have no evidence that the technical tracts were assembled into formal collections before Byzantine times, Zosimus of Panopolis (Fragmenta Graeca 245) suggests that at least some pieces of what we know as the Corpus Hermeticum circulated together as early as the end of the 3rd century cE. The split between philosophical and technical texts is not absolute. Although the more speculative philosophical texts aim at a salvific gnosis and the more prac­tically oriented technical texts seek after narrower results, the two genres share certain features, and late antique figures such as lamblichus seem to confound the separation altogether.

Contents and contexts

The Hermetica are to be understood as one among several late antique traditions, including  Neoplatonism, that refashioned Mediterranean religious traditions and the philosophical insights of Platonists into intensely personal soteriological disciplines. While the form of the philosophical tracts is often dialogic, their tone is more often revelatory. Pupils gather around masters to hear of the divine, the basic ontological structures of the cosmos, and the place of humans within it. The truth learned in these contexts was not a dry abstraction but rather, in Garth Fowden's apt phrase, a "catalytic force" in individuals' lives (The Egyptian Hermes, 1986: xxiii). The wisdom promised not merely enlightenment but spiritual ascent as well. As the initiate learns of the hierarchical orders of heaven, the soul becomes buoyant-it leaves behind attachments to the material world, takes on ethereal qualities, and comes not just to know god, but to be like god.

The texts present themselves as authentic and ancient Egyptian wisdom translated into Greek. Corpus Hermeticum 16 warns presciently that when the Greeks one day attempt to translate the texts, the Greek language will fail because it cannot match the Egyptian language's power to carry inside its words the very presence of things (compare Iamblichus, On the Mysteries 7.4-5). Assessing other, less fanciful possibilities for the origins of the texts has been the subject of no little scholarly debate and discussion. While treatments of the Hermetica early in the l0th century were likely to argue strongly for influence from one tradition or the other (whether Greek, Iranian, or Egyptian), recent work has tended to take a more inclusive approach and explore the notion that many, apparently contradictory, traditions lived together in these documents.

Jewish influences are likely in some texts, including the genres of apocalypse (Corpus Hermeticum 1.1-5) and prophecy (Asclepius 24). The creation story of Genesis is used as an apparent proof text at Corpus Hermeticum 1.4-5, 1 z, 18 and 3.1-3. In addition, the two Papyri Graecae Vindobonenses show the discourse of Hermes and Tat on the front side, but on the verso an apocryphal text of the Hebrew Bible, the Book of Jannes and Jambres. Gnostic views of the material world are clear in Corpus Hermeticum 1.20, 4, and 6.3, and more extensively at Corpus Hermeticum 13 and Nag Hammadi Codex 6.6. Also the notion that one might "know" god is much more common in Jewish and Christian circles than in classical and Hellenistic Greek ones.

Plato's legacy is also easy to find. God is equated with the Good (Corpus Hermeticum 6), the mechanics of Hades bear a resem­blance to those seen in Plato's Myth o f Er (Nag Hammadi Codex 6.8), and the anthropogony of the Timaeus shows through at Asclepius 8. Egyptian influ­ence shows most obviously in the form of the texts, for which Platonic dialogues offer less' satisfying parallels. More likely models are Egyptian wisdom sayings which, mirroring the inherited nature of the scribal office, cast a "father" passing down scribal wisdom to his "son." The bisexual divinity that produces the cosmos (Corpus Hermeticum 1.9; 5.7; and Asclepius 20-21) is likely Egyptian in origin.

The careful divine hand making the human body (Corpus Hermeticum 5.6-7) is reminiscent of the Egyptian Hymn to Khnum. The traditional Egyptian ritual practice of statue animation appears (Corpus Hermeticum 17; Asclepius 19, 22-24, 37-38), as does the broad notion of the Egyptian land as a manifestation of heaven (Asclepius 24; compare Corpus Hermeticum 5).

The Hermetic texts speak of a cosmos built on the distinctive cosmological complications of Middle Platonism. At Corpus Hermeticum 1.9 the highest order of the divine being (the pure mind ,Nous) remains aloof from creation by producing a demiurgic double of itself. The demiurgic Nous is actually responsible for the creative act and serves the double function of securing divine proximity to the world and shielding the transcendent god from being sullied by contact with the material. Such a doubling of the divine is also observable in the distinction at Asclepius 3 and 8 between the cosmic god and the higher unknown god. Also characteristic of Middle Pla­tonism is the prominence of Nous and soul conceived as the ontological strata, bookended by god and matter, in which dwell various classes of divine and lower beings (Corpus Hermeticum I, I0, 12).

Legacies

The marriage of Platonic philosophy to Egyptian theology makes a decisive contribution to the history of Platonism. Plato's successors had perennially to struggle with the master's view that the material world is no more than an image, which in Plato's understanding always veers toward a shadow and phantom of the world's higher orders. But the traditional Egyptian view that the land of Egypt is an imitation of heaven itself, and the temple of the gods, offered a near perfect solution to the pernicious Platonic problems of ontological and epistemological corruption implicit in the material world. It recasts imitation in a strongly positive light and opens up the possibility of reinterpreting the mate­rial world no longer as always a potentially misleading phantom, but instead as a divine manifestation. Such a view had always been an option for the Platonist, but it was rarely exercised. Among the many late antique texts that show the influence of Platonists, one can see this view emerging most fully in the Hermetica. They offer a crucial pivot in the turn from Middle Platonist ambivalence toward the material world to the post-lamblichean Neoplatonists' growing attentiveness to it as always potentially a theophany. The well-established Egyptian practice of statue animation offered a solution on a smaller scale, but one with no less a profound influence. The Hermetica follow a traditional Egyptian view that humans have the power to create gods in the cultic images they fabricate, which through proper techniques of consecration become vehicles for the real presence of the gods themselves. No more powerful answer to Plato could be imagined, and such practices soon become the central component of the ritualized version of Platonism that would hold sway, after lamblichus, all the way down to Ficino's day (15th century).

The Hermetic texts lived long after late antiquity, with their fortunes waxing and waning in rough congruence to those the Neoplatonists. The text of the Corpus Hermeticum as we know it is the product of Byzantine editors, and  Michael Psellus produced a commentary on Corpus Hermeticum i and per­haps other Hermetic writings. In the Latin West, interest in Hermes was minimal until the 12th century. As the school of Chartes rediscovered Plato in the distinctive dress of Calcidius's Neoplatonic translation and commentary, they also found new interest in the Hermetic materials, both the Asclepius and Latin paraphrases from Arabic compilations. Hermes was admired by no less a figure than Albertus Magnus, who mentions him in twenty-three of his works, as an ancient pagan who closely mirrored the Christian truth.

The Hermetica, along with other works of late antique Platonist inspiration such as the Book on Causes, the Theology o f Aristotle, and the corpus of the Pseudo-Dionysius presented a tantalizing, marginally doctrinal spiritualism in a Platonic mode that church officials were unable to resist. Ficino's translation of Corpus Hermeticum 1-14 (1471) secured Hermes' status for the Renaissance. The work saw dozens of editions and translations into vernacular languages and spurred a small industry of commentators of all intellectual inclinations well into the 17th century, including Giordano Bruno and Robert Fludd.

Where the legacy of lived Hermeticism ends, the history of scholarship on the corpus begins. And scholarly debate is structured around poles such as Greek vs. Egyptian, philosophical vs. practical, religion vs. magic, history of ideas vs. social history. The Hermetica present too many facets to be  delimited by the usually useful categories of classical, Egyptian, or Near Eastern religions, and it is safe to say that no clear consensus of new categories has  emerged.
 

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