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This chapter reads Ola Rotimi's The Gods are Not to Blame as an allegory of colonization and decolonization and revises the established reading of the play as a representation of the Nigerian Civil War. The protagonist's patricide is understood as the slaying of the colonial father at the moment of independence, and the ensuing incest is the intimate embrace between the hero of national liberation and what the despatched colonizer leaves behind, namely his culture. This relationship is incestuous because the liberating hero is already a partial product of colonial culture. Political decolonization is thus staged as the easy part, while cultural decolonization is dramatized as impossible because the incestuous embrace produces issue. This issue is not only the children in the play but also the play itself. As such, the play is a product of an indigenous and a colonial culture. Ethnic aggression, as both colonization and civil war, is thus characterised as fighting oneself.

Sara Haardt's health crisis in 1929 occurred when Mencken was immersed in the writing of Treatise on the Gods, a culmination of his thinking on the nature and origin of religion. The book was controversial, especially for its comments on the Jewish race. He gave a revealing interview, not expecting that in the next few years a series of events would alienate some of his closest Jewish friends.

Jan Bremmer explores the historiography of the Greek gods over the past century or so. He begins with the Indo-European and Mycenean prehistory of the Greek gods, pointing out that no modern history of Greek religion contained such an overview until Walter Burkert’s history was published in 1977. He then examines in turn the contributions to the study of the Greek gods made by four of the best histories of Greek religion from the twentieth century, namely those of Ulrich von Wilamowitz-Moellendorf, Louis Gernet, Martin Nilsson and Burkert himself.

The Greeks were polytheists who believed in a multitude of gods. In the modern discussion of Greek religion the gods take second place to ritual, and the study of individual gods is privileged over attempts to define their general characteristics qua gods. While studies of the functions and personalities of gods like Apollo, Demeter, Dionysos or Herakles abound, no comprehensive treatment of the generic properties of the Greek gods exists. The question “What is Greek god?” is considered too ‘theological’ and therefore shunned. This chapter examines four divine qualities that are shared by all the Greek gods—their immortality, anthropomorphism, foreknowledge, and finally their power.

The notion of ‚Twelve Gods’ in Greek religion can be traced back no further than the late 6th century BC. It should probably be seen not as a fixed set of twelve (in fact our evidence suggests the identity of the twelve varied from place to place), but rather as a common symbol for the pantheon. Scholars have in the past attempted to derive the Greek Twelve from month-deities in Egypt, or, more frequently, from groups of twelve deities found in Anatolia, especially Lycia. This chapter argues that it makes more sense to see the Twelve as a key symbol of Greek identity, associated with the polis (often located in the agora) and with the frontiers of the Greek world (e.g. the cult of the Twelve at Chalkedon on the border between Europe and Asia). Both associations, paradoxically, are seen most clearly in a text from Xanthos in Lycia commemorating an altar to the Twelve set up by the local Dynast Kheriga in the late 5th century BC.

This chapter sums up the key findings of this study on Christian realism and what sort of person an individual should be for Jesus Christ in today's society. It proposes a renewed Christian realism that tries to be true to the nature of things, to the nature of the world and to the nature of God's revelation in the Scripture. The realism poses an alternative to the two options most often offered to modern Christian today including the withdrawal from certain worldly institutions and the wielding of power available in the name of Christ to draw the world under the rule of the Kingdom of God.

This is the largest and arguably central chapter of the book, in which the author investigates real property administered by the polis of Athens, i.e., by the central government. He offers an exhaustive account of property belonging to Athena, as the poliadic goddess of Athens; to the so-called Other Gods; to new divinities, primarily Amphiaraos and Asklepios; and to the two Eleusinian Goddesses. After a thorough analysis of the Aristotelian Athenian Constitution 47.4-5, the key literary passage on Athenian administration of sacred lands, Papazarkadas investigates the financial mechanisms by which sacred rentals were invested in order to sustain cultic activity. Such schemes show the importance of sacred landholdings for the smooth function of Athenian religion. Finally, the author probes leasing within the wider frame of Athenian finances, especially in the Lykourgan period.

Chapter 5 is an in-depth study of Ming princely temple patronage. The Ming princes were most interested in traditional Daoist core temples. At the same time, they engaged in the activities of the temples of official standing of different degrees. The Ming princes were also attracted to some popular cults believed to be efficacious (ling). In terms of the patterns of temple patronage, the princes were involved in such activities as temple founding, temple renovation, donations of land and other wealth, princely writing of temple inscriptions and name plaques in calligraphy, enclosing temples in their princely estates, the temples as family shrines, Daozang brought to the temples, and the shelter-temples known as Tea Temples founded at Mount Wudang. Their patronage of temples was on average within a short distance. The majority of temples they patronized were concentrated in major cities of political, military, and economic importance in the Ming empire, thus becoming a highly visible component of the urban public landscape. The chapter finally touches upon the interaction between the Ming princely institution and local religious associations (hui) and the princely membership in these hui.

Chapter 4 explores Julian’s effort to employ Judean “sacrifice” as an example of Hellenic orthopraxy and to convince Christians that the Eucharist was invalid because it bore no relationship to Hebrew sacrifice. Animal sacrifice was a key plank of Julian’s hellenizing program. It was also rarely found in Antioch, eschewed by both Hellenes and by Christians. In Galileans, Julian employs the theurgic Neoplatonism of Iamblichus of Chalcis to describe Jewish private slaughter as sacrifice. Such sacrifice is meant to stand in for Hellenic sacrificial orthopraxy. In the process, Julian demonstrates that Judean private sacrifice is the direct successor of Hebrew sacrifice on the Day of Atonement, while the Christian Eucharist is new and invalid. The impact of Julian’s argument on Antiochenes is also considered.

As sculpture is the classical art par excellence, statues abound in films set in Greek or Roman antiquity. Moreover, many of the mythological tropes involving sculptures that have persisted on the silver screen have their origins in classical antiquity: the Ovidian account of a Cypriot sculptor named Pygmalion who falls in love with his ivory creation and sees it bestowed with life by Venus, Hephaistos’s deadly automatons, the petrifying gaze of the Medusa, and divine sculptural manifestation, or agalmatophany, for instance. This chapter investigates the myths of the living statue as they originated in Greek and Roman literary art histories and found their way to the screen. It will do so by tracing the art-historical form and function of classical statuary to the cinematic representation of living statues in a broad conception of antiquity. The cinematic genre in which mythic sculptures thrive is that of the sword-and-sandal or peplum film, where a Greco-Roman or ersatz classical context provides the perfect backdrop for spectacular special effects, muscular heroes, and fantastic mythological creatures.

In late spring or early summer of 327, Alexander the Great once more crossed the Hindu Kush—his Caucasus—and passed into India. He was congratulated by a number of kinglets from the neighborhood as the third son of Zeus, after Dionysos and Herakles. Herakles freed Prometheus from his shackles somewhere on the Hindu Kush, but for Alexander that was a recent discovery. Dionysos had visited Baktria, as everyone knew from Euripides, but the playwright never suggested that the God had also visited India. Still in the northernmost parts of India, Alexander came to the rock Aornos. He also reached the land of the Siboi (or Sibai), at the confluence of the Hydaspes and the Akesines. Early in 325, two years after the invasion of India, Alexander celebrated the successful conclusion to the campaign against the Malloi and Oxydrakai. The “battle of the Gods” marks the last appearance of Herakles in the historical accounts of Alexander's campaign.

This chapter discusses the Creator Gods, Obatala and Oduduwa, as they are worshipped in Africa and Cuba. The Obatala is the oldest and most important orisha in the Yoruba pantheon and is one of the few gods that is known to all Yoruba-speaking people and their neighbors. The Oduduwa, on the other hand, is worshiped throughout Yorubaland and have contradictory myths and traditions regarding the divinity's gender and character.

This chapter discusses the Messenger of the Gods, Elegbara, who is one of the three most revered orishas in Yorubaland in Africa. He is acknowledged as a powerful orisha who carries offerings of human beings to the gods, and whose support is indispensable in fulfilling one's life and destiny as well as surviving and succeeding. In Cuba, he is known as Elegguá, and he protects the entrance to houses and controls every road and corner of the world. However, Elegbara/Elegguá is also a trickster, who enjoys indulging in antisocial and destructive behavior.

This chapter discusses the two Gods of the Sea, Olokun and Yemonja. Yemonja is the goddess of water, wetlands, and the river Ogun, but in Cuba she is called Yemayá and is associated with the Virgin de Regla. Nevertheless, she is still believed to be a powerful deity. In Africa and Cuba, Olokun is believed to rule the waters of the ocean and he previously demanded human sacrifices.

Although Karnak was the biggest, dozens and even hundreds of similar?mainly smaller but sometimes very large?temples were built in ancient Egypt. The institution of the temple, in ancient Egypt most often termed ‘abode of the god,’ was not the embodiment of just one idea; it was the place where many beliefs and conceptions came together and became mutually entwined, while its deeper meaning was known only to those with special knowledge?those who had been initiated into the mysteries of the transformations and purposes of the gods. In different places in Egypt the actual worship of gods in the temples was?for the most part?conducted according to the same pattern, and differing only in details. Rituals connected with often overlapping and intersecting myths, religious festivals, hunting magic, agricultural tasks, or the founding of buildings were numerous. The growing number of temples and the practical demands on the king led quite early on to the delegation of the royal cult duties to priests who substituted for the king, having been also initiated into the mysteries of the rituals. So many festivals were celebrated in Egypt over the year. Not all were equally important and not all were celebrated everywhere in the country.

When Ridley Scott took on this biblical epic, he initially titled his film Exodus but later added the subtitle Gods and Kings so audiences wouldn’t think it was a remake of Preminger’s 1960 film. The character of Moses fascinated Scott, who wanted to add dimension to this towering figure and to understand his actions and beliefs. Scott, an agnostic, defined his approach to the story of Moses and his times by advancing scientific explanations for holy events. The parting of the Red Sea, for example, which is accomplished with dramatic realism in the film, Scott explained as a tsunami. Scott took a radical artistic and religious leap by casting God as a boy who appears and speaks to Moses. Religious communities found fault with the movie, citing a long list of misrepresentations of the Bible.

Given the excellent scholarship on Edith Wharton and race appearing in the last two decades, surprisingly little critical attention has been given to a racial discourse that pervades much of Wharton’s writing: Orientalism. This essay demonstrates that Orientalism informs several of Wharton’s novels and, in the case of late works like Twilight Sleep, The Glimpses of the Moon, Hudson River Bracketed, and The Gods Arrive, shapes them in fundamental and complex—if sometimes inconsistent—ways. Specifically, Wharton uses references to Orientalism as a vehicle through which to identify and critique various ills she perceives in modernist social and aesthetic trends. Attending to Wharton’s engagement with Orientalism, then, opens up new interpretations of her late works, particularly with respect to race, gender, and modernism. Moreover, understanding Wharton’s Orientalism allows us to situate her as a global citizen and grapple with the imperialist views subtending her fiction.

Chapter four argues that Paul Laurence Dunbar, like the Hampton folklorists, had to negotiate the politics of being objectified as a representative embodiment of the African American folklore and/or folk communities he chose to represent. In his literary works, masking and dissimilation become his vehicles for exposing the many intertwined literary and cultural conventions that determined the range of black racial representation. In his 1902 novel, The Sport of the Gods, he critiques the idealized notions of folklore through the text’s depiction of tensions within the Southern folk community. He further challenges the construction of folklore as a Southern, rural phenomenon by introducing a new geographic terrain--the urban North--in which to imagine black folklore, thereby introducing into African American literature alternative geographies for locating African American folklore.

This chapter analyzes and critiques the comparative method of three scholars who advocated the (virtual) nonexistence of Jesus: Bruno Bauer, Thomas L. Brodie, and Richard Carrier. It exposes an assumption of antiquity that has been carried over and accentuated in modern times: that the historical connotes the “real” or “true”; thus to be historical is to be true. If something is thereby not historical, but a combination of mythic motifs, it is not real.