Religion and theology in light of the Greek gods

2026-07-21

A friend of mine told me about this CNN article which covers the religious practices of a polytheistic group in Athens. These people say worshiping ancient Greek gods is a route to modern happiness. There are many such groups, including in Cyprus where I live. The news story gives me the pretext to comment on some related topics that I have already covered in one way or the other in previous publications.

First off, they make a reference to the latest film about the Odyssey. I have expounded on my opinion about the absence of Greeks from Hollywood’s Odyssey movie (2026-06-03). The gist is to (i) understand art as symbolic so that you are not an idolater in practice, (ii) ignore Hollywood because the kinds of people it promotes are typically corrupt, and (iii) the absence or presence of Greeks is a distraction.

Now to the topic of religion and theology. Theology is a branch of philosophy. It is what we do to understand what might be the divine. Theology necessarily overlaps with metaphysics, for it pertains to the abstract structure of all that is. Or, to put it differently, it wants to understand what is the pattern or reason by which the world of physics unfolds.

To me, “theology” and “metaphysics” are two words for the same study, though I am content with keeping them conceptually distinct in the interest of communicating different types of emphasis. For example, theology focuses on god while metaphysics is concerned with abstract structure without mentioning god. Though even writing this out makes me notice the arbitrariness of the distinction, but whatever.

What theology/metaphysics does is discern the common in the multitude of all phenomena as that which is both a precondition for them as well as the irreducible factor in their manifestation. In the Greek tradition, god is Logos (Λόγος): that which transcends and permeates all. It is neither human-like, nor agentic, nor disposed a certain way (e.g. as benevolent sky father). Logos literally means all of the following, which we commonly employ in everyday Greek parlance:

• reason (the cause of something);
• reason (as in reasonableness);
• speech (and by extension language);
• ratio (and by extension pattern or structure).

Plus there are other common uses, such as the suffix “-logy” that we find in the English name of various fields of study. Those applications are consistent with the aforementioned.

Presence has pattern. It has ratio, it forms structure. It unfolds through cause and effect in what effectively is a feedback loop that is indistinguishable from communication and thus language.

Logos is constant. It is. We may say “it always is” for effect, though we do not imply temporality or locality: there is no before or after it, nor inside and outside of it. It is total and complete in its oneness.

Hesiod, an ancient poet, claims that in the beginning there was Chaos. Strictly speaking, chaos refers to the absence of structure (so “chaos theory” in mathematics is not the same thing because it still is about pattern, for it discerns something to be studied and reasoned about, hence theory). A primordial Chaos is the kind of careless claim that philosophers must remind poets not to mention in passing. If something comes from a putative patternlessness, then that has had in it the capacity for cause and effect, else the capacity for pattern and structure, and, therefore, it was never patternlessness per se.

To even describe something as “patternless” necessarily requires that it exists as patternless, in the state of patternlessness, and is identifiable as such. To identify is to discern, to discern is to trace pattern, to trace pattern is, in short, to recognise an instantiation of Logos. Primordial Chaos is useful only in a loose metaphorical sense. But even then we can think of more apt metaphors (and, by the way, Hesiod does a terrible job with some of his metaphors that debase the gods in what effectively is ancient pornography).

Which brings me to the topic of art and mythology. Theology is for few people. Not because we are elitist snobs, but due to the nature of the topics involved. Few have the patience to follow along, let alone meditate in isolation and build up the requisite capacity.

The Greek gods and all of mythology are human constructs, products of Greek culture that reflect Greek values, all realised as Greek art. We imagine them, depict them in certain ways, and tell stories that are meant to teach something valuable to people.

We speak of many gods with the understanding that one and the many are differences of focus or emphasis, not category, like the one ray of light that is understood as many colours once it is seen through a prism. The multitude of gods is a useful didactic and mnemonic device: polytheism is a practical tool. We can capture phenomena in the world and describe them in memorable ways.

For example, we can speak of Athena as the goddess of wisdom who is at once wise and a formidable warrior. This representation triggers the imagination and has people paying attention. The audience wants to know why do we associate wisdom with (i) a woman and (ii) a warrior. Why not have some male monk meditating in the mountains? Or some pacifist librarian and scholar? Those have their purpose as well, though we do it this way to communicate the following non-exhaustive list of teachings, which we consider more important for social reproduction:

• Females are not weak (and actually there are no weak goddesses in the 6 males and 6 females arrangement of the Olympians which represents the equality of the sexes through their innate differences).

• Power is not limited to raw physical prowess. The right attitude is mightier than the fist. As such, Athena’s power consists in her perfect poise.

• Wisdom is about judgement and control. Even when you are committed to non-violence, you understand that sometimes you have to fight. “Sometimes” is where judicious reasonableness comes in.

• As a hoplite (infantry) bearing a shield and wielding a short-ranged weapon, Athena fights from the front lines in a phalanx formation. She thus is fearless to come forth (we have the virtue of parrhesia, after all, which is essential for philosophy—and I am doing now by publishing this otherwise unconventional piece) and will stand shoulder to shoulder with her peers, so she accepts the role of the one as part of the many. She is not self-obsessed and thus sees the bigger picture, which is what wisdom demands.

We can interpret all the gods in this way, but I will not belabour the point.

The symbolism, then, is about reinforcing one’s memory of the teachings by fastening them upon the construct of an awesome figure who has an interesting background and looks cool in what they do. Yes, “cool” and “awesome” to get the people going.

People are inspired by excellence and grandeur. Just the other day the world was admiring the accomplishments of elite footballers playing for their national teams. Even in nominally monotheistic countries there is endless demand for stories of heroes who do something noteworthy, be they actual people or fictional characters. Go anywhere you want and you will find millions of Lionel Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo fans, for instance.

Just think of how many kids have been inspired by the likes of newer starts, like Kylian Mbappe and Lamine Yamal, to commit to excellence through the medium of sport. They do it because those footballers are doing something admirable; something incredibly hard to achieve.

And even those who do not emulate their heroes one-to-one still find elements of heroism that are applicable to their own life. Not everyone has the unflinching commitment of an athlete, for example, though everybody acknowledges that even a little bit of restraint and discipline does them good.

Furthermore, the tool of polytheism is a way of recognising the diversity among humans: how some are endowed with certain talents while others have different ones. There is no better or worse god, just as there is not one set of talents that is beneficial for society: everybody counts. One person will feel closer to Athena, for example, and another will relate more to Dionysos. In actuality, every person has a little bit of every archetype. Together we form the collective from which we all can benefit.

Philosophers can talk in abstract terms, but metaphors and such mnemonics are helpful to everyone, especially those who are not philosophising.

Which brings me to the problématique of what is religion. Unlike theology, religion is for everyone. Its precepts must be practical so that every member of society can apply them. Its lessons need to be clear for each individual to feel involved. And its rites must reinforce the sense of togetherness among the practitioners. To put it succinctly, religion is a community equipped with a comphrehensive framework for every facet of life.

Religion benefits from art and mythology because those are essential to human’s need for recreational activities. In Greek, we describe “recreational activities” with a far more significant term: psychagogia (ψυχαγωγία), which literally means “soul-teaching”. As such, we see in recreational activities the potential of growing as a person and of expanding one’s conscience beyond the day-to-day trivia. Like with every teaching though, it cannot be all about studying: one must also be practical, do some work, and generally proceed through action. So psychagogia is not a license for laziness.

Religion, however, is not beholden to the artist in particular. Since the CNN article mentions the Odyssey, I must stress that Homer is not religion. He uses the gods as characters in his stories. The modern equivalent would be some kind of superhero, saiyan, and the like. Artists can interpret the gods, though they have to be aware that they hold a special power for which they are responsible and accountable: the power of formulating symbols.

As such, religion must have a self-contained traditionalism, which strengthens the cohesion of its community over the aeons by providing a bulwark against ill thought ideologies or trends of artistic expression that come and go with the times.

Religion, then, is not a cult for hipsters. It has to stay in place for the long-term. It is intergenerational in outlook and robust to the vicissitudes of fashion. This means that at its core it has to have a clear understanding of the family (which is the extended family in the Greek tradition) and of social reproduction more broadly. “Social reproduction” refers to biological continuity (i.e. children) plus the regeneration of the cultural framing of the given society. Everybody is welcome, yes, as all people matter, though the core objective and ultimate value cannot deviate from the imperative of survival through solidarity between generations.

In this sense, religion is ethnic (not to be confused with nationalist, totalitarian, etc.): it encompasses the culture of a specific people and it functions as the mechanism that keeps those people around throughout the centuries. Religion that does not recognise ethnicity will always degenerate into imperialism, which will then engender materialism and inevitably greed (and even the dominant religions of our planet which claim to be ecumenical still have inescapable ethnic particularities, like Greek Orthodox Christianity which in practice sets the Greeks apart from, say, the Russians as well as all other Christians).

The wishy-washy, all numbers win, kind of spiritual aspiration cannot survive long-term since it treats ethnicity, and by extension organic hierarchy, as an impediment. It does so because it focuses on the short-term wellness of the individual where there are no concerns for the rigid structures that (i) enable intergenerational continuity and (ii) keep irresponsible fellows away from items they are not prepared to handle. This frameless individualism is an expression of caprice masquerading as religiosity. It is unbridled want with the attendant unaccountability. So, no, “modern happiness”, as the CNN piece suggests in its title, is not enough.

I am not religious because I do not belong to a community of the aforementioned kind (not yet, anyway, though I am the kind of person that makes things happen—and I am persistent). I know from personal experience that polytheism has always persisted in Greece, sometimes in closed circles and others through family heritage. I also am aware that there are many groups that are public all over the Greek world. I might, in fact, join one such group in my part of the world, if the conditions are right. I will not do it to discuss theology, though that might be an interesting activity on the side. I will do it to contribute to a community.

I could become a Christian but it is not sufficiently ethnic and, at core, remains ecumenical in its pursuits. Ethnicity is key. I do not want the Chinese, the Germans, the Arabs, to become Greeks or vice versa. Each culture has its own particularities. Diversity through locality is the nice thing of our species. A person from another cultural milieu can become Greek by adopting the Greek customs, for example, though this practically means that such a person commits to the community long-term through interpersonal connections.

An ethnic religion is not trying to convince others of the religion’s merits or the correctness of its theological propositions. It does not carry out missionary work and is not promising any kind of reward to anyone who chooses to convert to it. The ethnic group grows organically.

I have a theology, though that without a religion is what nerds do: interesting, but not interesting enough (and, yes, this is self-criticism). What nerds also do is get distracted by the technicalities, such as how many gods there should be, while missing the bigger picture, which in the case of religion is the presence of ethnically defined community over the long-term. If you do not have a community, and if that community does not outlive you, you do not have a religion.

In my case, ethnicity is Greek simply because it is the one I grew up in and can intuit about. There is nothing inherently better about Greekness, nor is this tacit xenophobia: Greek is a state of mind and, in fact, Xenia (Ξενία) symbolised through Xenial Zeus (Ξένιος Ζευς) is an important ideal, which is also invoked in Homer’s Odyssey, by the way, but I digress. To appreciate ethnicity is to recognise the fact that togetherness is stronger between people with shared cultural associations. When Spain won the World Cup last week, millions of Spaniards, including those who do not like football, came together as one. Ethnicity is a practical consideration of what is the most reliable basis for solidarity and its concomitant collectivism.

At any rate, I recognise that as a philosopher and a disciplined, energetic person I have the talents to serve a higher purpose with great effect. These talents are not mine to keep. They are not for my enrichment, nor to boost my ego. I am the medium through which a timeless message is echoed. Through my daily deeds, I accept the duty to speak my mind in earnest; the duty to inspire people to aspire towards excellence; the duty to be the elder brother or father figure or faithful fellow traveller even vis-à-vis strangers, so that I lead them where they need to be, sometimes with a gentle touch and at others with tough love.