Old Gods and New Pagans

Ep. 11: Understanding Medusa The Guardian, Not the Victim

Matt Holloway Season 1 Episode 11

Text me your Questions!

In this episode of 'Old Gods and New Pagans,' host Matt Holloway delves into the true origins of Medusa's myth. Discover why the well-known tale of Medusa being punished after being assaulted by Poseidon is actually a Roman addition that came centuries later. Revisit the ancient Greek portrayal of Medusa as a powerful protector rather than a victim. Understand the cultural shifts that led to the dramatic reinterpretations of her story, and explore the implications of these myths in both ancient and modern contexts.

00:00 Welcome to Old Gods and New Pagans

01:52 Medusa: The Original Myth

05:56 The Roman Retelling of Medusa

10:04 Why the Roman Version Stuck

12:34 Medusa as a Protector in Ancient Times

15:06 Modern Reclamation of Medusa

17:01 Navigating Between Ancient and Modern Interpretations

19:15 Conclusion: The Power of the Original Medusa



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Speaker 1:

Hello there and welcome to Old Gods and New Pagans. I'm your host, matt Holloway, your guide to the wonderful and wild world of pagan traditions. Whether you're a seasoned pagan, a curious newcomer or just here for the stories, you're in the right place. I'm all about exploring ancient wisdom, modern practices and everything in between. So grab a cup of tea, an ice-cold beer and get comfortable, and let's dive into today's topics. Remember, nobody has all the answers, but asking questions that's where we learn. Alright, pop quiz.

Speaker 1:

What do you picture when I say Medusa? Let me guess snake hair, turning people to stone, probably getting her head chopped off by some hero named Perseus? Right? Yeah, I thought so. Maybe you've heard the version where she was a beautiful priestess who got assaulted by Poseidon in Athena's temple and then Athena punished her for it by turning her into a monster. It's a pretty fucked up story, right? Well, here's the thing. What if I told you that this version, the one where Medusa is sexually assaulted and then blamed for it, isn't actually the original Greek story at all? What if I told you that it's a Roman edition that came along about 700 years later? Yeah, that's right. We have been getting this one wrong for centuries, and today we're going to untangle the real myths from the later editions, because understanding where these stories actually come from truly matters, not just for mythology junkies like me, but for anyone who's ever used Medusa as a symbol of survival, of protection or of feminine power. So buckle up, because we're about to take a deep dive into the snake-haired truth.

Speaker 1:

Chapter 1, the Original Medusa. Let's start at the beginning, the real beginning. We're talking about a poem called Theogony, written by a Greek poet named Hesiod around 700 BCE, that's about 2,700 years ago, making it one of our earliest written sources for Greek mythology. Now, hesiod wasn't just telling bedtime stories. The Theogony was essentially ancient Greece's family tree of the gods, a cosmic genealogy explaining where all these divine beings came from and how they were related. And in this ancient text we meet Medusa for the first time in written history. Here's what Hesiod tells us Medusa was one of three sisters called the Gorgons. Their names were Steno, uriel and Medusa. They were born to two primordial sea gods, phorces and Ceto, who were basically the divine embodiments of the dangerous, hidden depths of the ocean. These weren't your friendly neighborhood deities. These were the gods of sea monsters, of the things that lurk in the deep and make sailors wake up in a cold sweat. But here's the crucial detail that Hesiod gives us Of the three Gorgon sisters, only Medusa was mortal. Her sisters were immortal and ageless, but Medusa, she could die and eventually she would.

Speaker 1:

Now about her encounter with Poseidon. Hesiod does mention this, but listen to how he describes it With her lay, the dark-haired one, often described as Poseidon, in a soft meadow amid spring flowers. Like I said, the dark-haired one is Poseidon, god of the sea, in a soft meadow amid spring flowers. Like I said, the dark-haired one is Poseidon, god of the sea and a soft meadow, spring flowers. This doesn't sound like a violent assault in a temple now, does it? It sounds almost peaceful, consensual even Now.

Speaker 1:

Here's what's really interesting there's no mention of Athena at all in this part of the story. No temple desecration, no punishment, no transformation from beautiful woman to monster. According to Hesiod, when Perseus eventually kills Medusa, two creatures spring from her neck the winged horse, pegasus and a giant named Chrysaor. Both of them are Poseidon's children, conceived in that soft meadow among the spring flowers. So even in the earliest version we have, medusa isn't transformed into a monster as punishment. She just is a Gorgon. That's her nature, her identity and her name. It comes from the Greek word meaning to guard or to protect, not a victim, not punished Guardian protector. But here's where it starts to get interesting. Even though Hesiod describes the Gorgons as fearsome creatures, by the time we get to other early Greek sources we start seeing this shift. The poet Pindar, writing in 890 BCE, refers to fair-cheeked Medusa. Fair-cheeked, that means beautiful, and this is still 500 years before the Roman poet Ovid comes along with his version. Greek artists and poets were already starting to imagine Medusa as beautiful, not just monstrous. We can see this in ancient Greek art too Vase paintings and sculptures that show Medusa with human features, sometimes even lovely ones, alongside the more traditional monstrous depictions, sometimes even lovely ones alongside the more traditional monstrous depictions. So the idea of Medusa as beautiful wasn't some Roman innovation. The Greeks themselves were already complicating her image, already seeing her as something more nuanced than just a monster. She was becoming what scholars call a beautiful terror, something that was both attractive and dangerous, human and otherworldly.

Speaker 1:

Chapter 2. The Roman Retelling Fast forward about 700 years. We're now in Rome, about 8 CE, and a poet named Ovid is working on his masterpiece, the Metamorphosis. Now, ovid was brilliant, don't get me wrong. He was witty, clever and had a gift for psychological insight that was way ahead of his time. But he was also writing for a Roman audience, in a Roman context with Roman values and anxieties, and Romans has some pretty specific ideas about women, about power and about sexuality.

Speaker 1:

Here's Ovid's version, and I want you to listen carefully to the language. Medusa was originally a beautiful maiden, known especially for her gorgeous hair. She caught the attention of Neptune that's Roman's version of Poseidon who, according to Ovid, raped her in Minerva's temple. Now, remember, minerva is the Roman's version of Poseidon, who, according to Ovid, raped her in Minerva's temple. Now, remember, minerva is the Roman version of Athena. So, instead of punishing Neptune, minerva punished Medusa by transforming her beautiful hair into snakes.

Speaker 1:

Now, before we go further, I want to be absolutely clear about something Sexual assault is real. It's serious and a devastating crime that affects countless people. If this version of Medusa's story speaks to you, if it helps you process your own experiences or those of someone you care about, that is valid. Stories can be powerful tools for healing and understanding, regardless of their historical origins. But we also need to understand why Ovid might have changed the story this way, because it tells us a lot about Roman society and how those attitudes have shaped our understanding of mythology ever since, rome was a deeply patriarchal society, women had very little legal power and their sexuality was seen as something that needed to be controlled.

Speaker 1:

Roman literature is full of stories where women's bodies become vehicles for moral lessons, political allegories and social anxieties. Female sexuality in particular was a big part of the Roman culture, was often portrayed as dangerous, something that could bring chaos and destruction if not properly managed. In Ovid's version we see several Roman themes playing out. First there's the idea of sacred space being violated. Remember, romans took temple sanctity very seriously and the idea of sexual activity in a temple would have been genuinely shocking to his audience. But notice who gets punished Not the god who committed the assault, but the woman who was assaulted. This reflects Roman legal and social attitudes, where women were often held responsible for sexual crimes committed against them. There's also the theme of transformation as a punishment. Ovid's metamorphosis is full of stories where people, especially women, are transformed into something else as a consequence of divine displeasure. Usually these transformations are presented as just and deserved, even when, to our modern eyes, they clearly aren't. And remember, ovid was also writing during the reign of Augustus, who had implemented strict moral legislation aimed at controlling Roman sexuality, particularly women's sexuality.

Speaker 1:

Some scholars think Ovid's focus on stories of sexual violence and punishment might have been his way of commenting on these social pressures, though it eventually got him exiled. So maybe it wasn't as subtle as he expected. But here's the key point Ovid wasn't trying to preserve ancient tradition, he was creating literature. He was taking the stories and making them speak to his contemporary audience, because that's what good writers do. The problem comes when we forget that distinction and start treating his creative interpretations as if they were the original myth, chapter 3. Why the Change Stuck? So why did Ovid's version become the one most people know today? Why did a Roman reinterpretation from 8 CE override 700 years of earlier Greek tradition? Well, partly because the Romans conquered the Greeks, and with conquest comes cultural dominance. Roman versions of Greek myths became the standard in much of the Mediterranean world. Latin became the language of scholarship for over a thousand years in Europe. So medieval and Renaissance scholars were reading Ovid, not Hesiod.

Speaker 1:

But there's something else going on here, something more uncomfortable to think about. Ovid's version stuck because it reinforced ideas about women, about power and blame, that have been depressingly persistent throughout modern history. The narrative of the beautiful woman who is punished for being victimized fits into patterns of victim blaming that we still see today. It's the same logic that asks what a woman was wearing, whether she was drinking and why she was walking alone at night. It's the same logic that punishes women for their sexuality while excusing others for theirs. This isn't to say that Ovid was deliberately trying to promote victim blaming, though the end result certainly did that.

Speaker 1:

But stories don't exist in a vacuum. They reflect and reinforce the values of the societies that told them and, unfortunately, societies that blame women for male violence have been all too common throughout modern history. There's another factor, too the victim-turned-monster narrative that has kind of a dramatic appeal that the original story lacks. It's psychologically complex, emotionally loaded, and gives Medusa a tragic backstory that makes her both sympathetic and terrifying. It's the kind of story that sticks in your mind, that generates discussion and reinterpretation. But complexity isn't the same thing as authenticity, and psychological insight isn't the same thing as historical accuracy. Also, the Christian influence on European culture definitely played a role. Early Christian writers were often hostile to pagan mythology, but they were more likely to preserve stories that showed pagan gods as cruel, unjust or evil, just like Ovid's version, with its theme of divine injustice and innocent suffering, fit that agenda better than Hesiod's.

Speaker 1:

More straightforward, more peaceful genealogy, chapter 4. Medusa as Protector. Now let's get back to what the Greeks actually thought about Medusa, because it's pretty different from what we might expect. Throughout ancient Greek and Roman culture, images of Medusa were used as protection. Images of Medusa were used as protection. Her face appears on shields, armor, temple facades, household items, jewelry and even roof tiles. The technical term for this is apotropaic, meaning something that wards off evil or harm. Think about that for a second.

Speaker 1:

If Medusa were really just a victim, a symbol of powerlessness and injustice. Think about that for a second. If Medusa were really just a victim, a symbol of powerlessness and injustice, would people put her image on their shields? Would they carve her face over the doorways? Would Romans carry amulets with her face for protection? No, they wouldn't. They used her image because they believed she was powerful. Dangerous, yes, but powerful in a way that could be harnessed for protection. There's archaeological evidence for this all over the ancient Mediterranean. Medusa amulets have been found from Britain to Egypt. Her face appears on coins, on public buildings, on private homes.

Speaker 1:

This wasn't just artistic decoration. It was magical and pagan practice. People believed that Medusa's image could protect them from harm, turn away enemies and ward off evil influences. Her name supports this interpretation too. As I mentioned earlier, medusa comes from the Greek verb meaning to guard or to protect. That's not the kind of name you give a victim. That's the name of a guardian, a sentinel, a fierce protector who keeps harm at bay. Even the snake hair, which modern interpretations often see as a symbol of a curse, had positive associations. In ancient cultures, snakes were symbols of wisdom, of transformation and of earth energy. They were associated with healing. Remember the rod of Asclepius, the snake-wrapped staff. That's still a symbol of medicine today. In ancient cultures, snakes were protectors of temples and of sacred places. So when the Greeks looked at Medusa with her snake hair, they weren't necessarily seeing a cursed victim. They might have been seeing a powerful guardian spirit crowned with symbols of wisdom and of transformation.

Speaker 1:

Chapter 5. Modern Reclamation. Fast forward to today and we're seeing something interesting happening with Medusa. She's being reclaimed, reinterpreted and reimagined by people who find power in her story, but often based on that Roman version, not the Greek original. Feminist writers and artists have embraced Medusa as a symbol of feminine rage, of transformation through trauma, of the power that can come from surviving victimization. The French feminist Helene S I cannot pronounce her name wrote a famous essay called the Laugh of the Medusa, arguing that men turned Medusa into a monster because they feared female desire and power. There's the Me Too movement's adoption of Medusa imagery. The statue Medusa with the head of Perseus by artist Luciano was displayed in New York as a symbol of women fighting back against their abusers. And you know what that's? Valid Symbols evolved, myths change.

Speaker 1:

If people find strength and meaning in Medusa as a survivor figure, that has value, regardless of what the ancient Greeks thought about her. But I think it's also worth considering what we might gain by understanding her original role as a protector. What would it mean to have a female figure who wasn't defined by her victimization but by her power, who wasn't transformed by trauma but who is simply inherently powerful all by herself? For modern pagans working with Medusa, this distinction might matter significantly. Are you calling on a victim who found strength through suffering, or are you calling on an ancient guardian spirit whose very essence is protection? Both can be powerful, but they are different kinds of power.

Speaker 1:

Chapter 6. What this means for us. So what do we do with all of this? How do we navigate between respecting people's modern interpretations while also honoring ancient traditions? First, I think we need to get comfortable with the idea that myths can have multiple valid versions. The Roman Medusa and the Greek Medusa can coexist in their own stories and their own meanings. One doesn't cancel out the other, but we should be honest about which is which and when and why different versions developed. Second, we need to think critically about the stories we tell and retell. When we default to the victim narrative, what message are we sending when we focus on Medusa's transformation rather than her intrinsic power? What are we saying about where women's strength comes from? This doesn't mean that the Roman version is wrong or that people who connect with it are simply misguided, but it does mean we should be aware of our choices and their implications. For those of us interested in historical pagan practice, this kind of analysis is crucial. We want to understand how ancient people actually thought about their gods and spirits. We need to dig past the later interpretations and try to get back to the source material and not what was changed and adapted to fit Christian or Roman audiences.

Speaker 1:

And here's the thing the more I learn about the original Medusa, the more powerful she becomes to me, not because she overcame victimization, but because she never was a victim in the first place. She was always the one with the power. There's something deeply satisfying about that, about that In a world where women are still often expected to earn their power through suffering, where we're told that our strength must come from our wounds, here's an ancient figure who was just powerful, period. No tragic backstory required. She had her own power. So there you have it, folks the Medusa. You thought you knew the victim who was punished for her assault. That's not the ancient Greek story. That's a Roman edition from over 700 years later, created in a very different cultural context with very different ideas about women, about power and blame.

Speaker 1:

The original Medusa, she, was a protective figure whose very name means to guard. Her image kept evil at bay, not because she was a victim-turned-monster, but because she was powerful from the start. She was the guardian, whose gaze could turn threats to stone, whose serpent hair marked her as wise and transformative, whose fierce protection was so valued that people carried her image into battle and carved it over the doorways and wore it on their person. Now, this doesn't invalidate anyone's connection to the later version. Symbols evolved, as I said, and if Ovid's Medusa speaks to your experience or gives you strength, that's meaningful in its own way and absolutely valid. But it's worth knowing the difference between the ancient tradition and the modern reinterpretation or Roman reinterpretation, especially if you're trying to connect with historical pagan practices.

Speaker 1:

Next time someone tells you that the assault version is the real myth, you can politely inform them they're about seven centuries off, because sometimes knowing the real history is the best protection of all. And maybe, just maybe, we might find something powerful in the idea of a feminine divine figure who didn't need to be broken to become strong, who was never a victim to begin with and who was always simply and fiercely just herself. Thank you for joining me in this deep dive into snake-haired truth. This has been Old Gods and New Pagans. Again, I'm Matt Holloway. Until next time, keep questioning, keep learning and remember not everything you think you know about the old gods is actually old. Check out the Pagan Temple, thepagantemplecom. Join the community, enter into these discussions and, yeah, let's see what else we can dig up.

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