For the Love of the Gods: The History and Modern Practice of Theurgy - Brandy Williams 2016
Priestess of Kemet
Stories from the Ancestors
Three women ruled Thebes for nearly two centuries. From 700 BCE to 525 BCE Shepenupet, Nitocris, and Ankhesneferibre held the reins of power.
Their names are rendered in many different ways by scholars. Douglas Blake, an independent scholar, translates the cartouche of Nitocris as Nt-ikrty mrti Mwt, “by virtue of Neit beloved of Mut.” I have Anglicized the name here as Neitokrity to highlight her connection with the goddess of her childhood town. Neitokrity was among the most powerful women who ever lived and she dedicated her life to the service of a god.
I GIVE YOU MY DAUGHTER
When Krity was a young child, she sailed with her father to Waset. Her first glimpse of the temple was through a soldier’s legs. Her father’s army surrounded her as they marched toward the open gates of Ipet-Iset, the sublime house of the god. It was dazzling: stone pylons rose toward the sky, figures of the gods strode across the face of the temple in a rainbow of colors, gigantic statues of pharaoh flanked the gate. She fairly gawked.
Her father led his army through the gate without pausing and marched into a vast walled courtyard open to the sky. As they penetrated more deeply into the temple, they found themselves in a forest of massive pillars supporting a gigantic stone roof; slits in the roof let rays of sunlight filter in, but the light never reached the floor, and the room was forbiddingly dim. The army stopped for a moment to let the soldiers light torches.
Finally they faced the entrance to the holiest of holies, the shrine where the god himself lived. A man and a woman stood side by side in front of the door, blocking their path. The man’s round face was rigid, his arms folded across his chest. He was impressive, but the woman was formidable, fully as tall as him and as proud, holding her head high under a massive double serpent crown.
The marching soldiers stopped. Shadows flickered in the torchlight. The temple of the great god was so quiet Krity could hear her own breathing.
The man facing them beat his chest once. “Mentuemhat,” he said. “Fourth priest of Amun, governor and protector of Waset.” He inclined his head toward the woman standing next to him. “Shepenupet, wife of Amun-Re, creator of the world.”
So you say, Krity thought; she knew her own patron goddess Neit had actually created the world.
Her father beat his chest once too. “Psamtik,” he said. “Pharaoh of Kemet.”
“Pharaoh of Sau,” Mentuemhat countered, refusing to acknowledge the man in front of him as the leader of his country.
Shepenupet took a step forward. Even in the dim hall Krity could see her eyes blazing. “You may not pass!” she thundered. “Amun is in his house and you may not enter!” Krity hid behind a soldier, shaking with fear.
Mentuemhat held his arms out straight as if to stop the entire army by himself. “The temple has been robbed. There is no more gold to be taken, no more silver on the walls, nothing is left. What do you want with us? Do you mean to take the wife of the god from the house of her husband? We stand against you! We will not permit it!”
“I am pharaoh!” Psamtik shouted. Krity hid her head behind a soldier’s leg. More quietly Psamtik went on, “I come to restore Ma’at. I do not come to take. I come to give.”
There was silence in the hall.
Psamtik said, “Neitokrity, step forward.”
Hoping no one could see how badly she was shaking, Krity slowly slipped between the soldiers to stand at her father’s side. Psamtik took her hand and held it up. “This is my daughter,” Psamtik said. “I have brought her to give to you.”
After a long moment Shepenupet exhaled and her shoulders dropped. “A man who brings his daughter does not mean to sack a city,” she said, her voice shaking a little. Only then did Krity realize that the formidable woman was scared too.
Psamtik said conversationally, “This is a mighty and terrible place and the child is afraid. Is there somewhere we can go to talk?”
Geographic and Historic Egypt
Krity’s Kemet was very similar to our Egypt today. Travelers can still visit the great temple at Karnak. We can watch farmers tilling the fields along the river using methods three thousand years old.
To understand Egypt you have to understand the river. The Nile flows peacefully from Sudan through Egypt’s deserts to the Mediterranean Sea in the north. Kemet, “the Black Land,” is the gift of the Nile, a truism that is emphatically reinforced by a flight over the country: there is a strip of blue water, a narrow band of green on either side, then reddish rock out to the horizon.
The country of Egypt, modern Misr, ancient Kemet, is situated in North Africa. It is bordered by Libya to the west, Sudan to the south, Israel to the east, and the Mediterranean Sea to the north, with Greece across the sea.
Egypt encompasses three geographical regions: Lower Egypt, Upper Egypt, and Nubia. This is confusing until you get used to it, as “Lower Egypt” is actually in the north, and the river Nile is one of the few in the world that flow from south to north. Lower Egypt describes the Nile delta and the seaport of Alexandria, whose ancient buildings are now submerged. It also includes the cities of Memphis (ancient Men-Nefer), Sais (ancient Sau), and the modern capital Cairo. “Upper Egypt” lies south and includes the modern city of Luxor, which the Greeks called Thebes and the people of Kemet called Waset.
Nile agriculture provided a stable basis for the Kemetic economy. Historian James Burke called ancient Kemet “the world’s longest running good times.” From the earliest historical period until Roman times, the culture of Kemet remained essentially unchanged no matter who ruled the country.
The record keepers of Kemet began their historical sequence with the Pharaoh Menes. Everything that happened before him is referred to as “pre-dynastic.” Menes united Lower Egypt and Upper Egypt about 3100 BCE. Egyptian dynastic history is generally presented in four time periods: the Old, Middle, New Kingdoms, and the Late Period, with times in between when Egypt was ruled by outsiders or there was no clear rulership.
Good times for all meant especially good times for women. Throughout the Dynastic period, women chose their husbands, divorced without fault, and received support if their husbands left the marriage. Women represented themselves legally, shared equally in property during marriage and bequeathed it on their deaths. Land and titles passed through the mother, so ambitious men married women with royal ties.
Women served as priestesses and pharaohs. In the dangerous times when Kemet was invaded and the male pharaohs killed, the women of the royal families stepped up to rule the country, lead armies, and expel the invaders. They also led during times of peace. For example, the
Pharaoh Hatshepsut enjoyed a long reign, building huge monuments that are among the most popular tourist attractions today.
Many royal women bore the title hemet neter, “God’s Wife,” but it wasn’t until the Nubian pharaohs that the bearer of that title assumed both political and religious authority in Waset.
PEOPLE OF KEMET
Krity and her father relaxed in the shade of a courtyard beside a shimmering tiled pool. Palm trees rustled overhead while young servants dashed about offering them water, plates of cheese, and honey cakes.
Mentuemhat adjusted his black shoulder-length wig. Shepenupet said kindly, “It’s on straight, Mentu.”
He patted her hand in response. “Nu, you’re in your own house. You can take off your crown.” Krity thought they sounded like comfortable old friends.
The priestess laid aside her crown and sighed. “My, but that’s a heavy thing,” she said. She cast a shrewd glance at Psamtik. “As you have come to know, I think.”
“I have faced down the king of Assyria,” Psamtik said. “Neitokrity, who was that?”
Krity startled and dropped the date she was holding. In her mind the courtyard vanished and the walls of her childhood home enclosed her while her mother’s voice beat the names into her head, repeating them over and over until her daughter got them right. “Assurbanipal,” she blurted.
Nu looked up at the sky as if seeing another scene. “Assurbanipal came as an enemy. He burned Waset, the beautiful city. He took so many captives.” She turned haunted eyes to Psamtik. “When I walk the streets I still smell the smoke. Even after ten years. And the streets are so empty.”
“And yet he did not take you captive,” Psamtik said, taking a bite of cheese. “How did you do it?”
Nu shook her head. “All night I stood in the doorway of the Holy of Holies, just as I did today, while the soldiers ran through the temple. They never came near me.” Her eyes filled with tears. “It was Amun. The great god protected me. They never laid hands on me.”
“Well, we didn’t oppose him, either,” Mentu said mildly. “He meant to punish Kemet and pay his troops, but he didn’t see us as his sworn enemies.”
“The middle way,” Psamtik agreed. “Neither serve nor oppose. This is the way I have chosen as well. I didn’t go to war with Assurbanipal. But I did invite the Assyrian troops to leave the Black Land. Politely.”
For the first time Nu laughed. “Did they leave politely?” She sobered again. “Assurbanipal placed you on the throne of Sau.”
“I am not Assyrian,” Psamtik countered. “I am a man of Kemet and my duty is to the Black Land. My father taught me that.”
“A king of my family killed your father,” Nu said conversationally. “Neitokrity, who was that?”
Krity’s stomach trembled. “Tanwetamani,” she quavered. History was very different when the people you were talking about were in the room.
Psamtik leaned back and folded his arms. “And so you think, this man’s father was killed by my family. This man was placed on the throne of Sau by the king of Assyria. How can I trust him?”
“You come from the north,” Nu said. “The invaders always come from the north. The saviors always come from the south and they’re my family. You’re not my family.”
Psamtik leaned forward eagerly. “Tie our two families together. Adopt my daughter as your heir.”
Nu reared back. “I have an heir!” she said. “Amenirdis! She’s already been presented to the god and to the people as god’s wife after me. Do you mean to rob her of that?”
“I will not do what should not be done,” Psamtik said. “I will not remove an heir from her place. Amenirdis will be god’s wife after you. Neitokrity will be god’s wife after her.”
“No,” Nu said firmly, crossing her arms on her chest.
“Kemet is stronger when the two lands are united. North and south. Sau and Waset.” Still Nu shook her head. Psamtik added, “She comes with a dowry.”
Nu started to make an angry reply, but Mentu held up his hand. “What kind of dowry?”
“Lands from eleven districts,” Psamtik said. “Lands and all their products, beer, bread, geese, oxen, cakes, vegetables. And gold, silver, jewels.”
Mentu turned to Nu with eyes glittering with tears. “We can attract people to rebuild Waset. We can feed our people, and we can feed the god. We can refill the scribal school with students.”
Nu argued, “We have kept Ipet-Iset pure. We never missed even a single day of the service of the god. He has eaten every meal.”
Mentu smiled wanly. “Even now the meals are so meager we are often left hungry.”
Psamtik said nothing. He watched them and waited.
Nu turned to Krity. The eyes of the priestess burned with the light of the god. “Why do you come here?” she demanded. “Girl who would be my daughter. Do you come to rule? Do you come to serve?”
Krity considered her answer carefully. If she said she came to rule, Shepenupet would mistrust her. If she said she came to serve, the god’s wife would control her for the rest of her life. Neit, she prayed, help me to know what to say. In answer to her prayer the words she should speak dropped into her mind like stones in a pool. She said, “I come to learn.”
Nu leaned back, studying her for a long time. Finally she said, “I can work with that.”
Nubia
The relationship between Egypt and Nubia has always been complicated. Lower, northern Nubia lies between the first and second cataracts of the Nile. Cataracts are rocky interruptions of the smooth flow of the river where boats have to be towed against the current or ported over the rocks. The area around the third cataract, the Dongola Reach, was in ancient times a fertile area teeming with wildlife, giraffe, lion, rhinoceros. The rulers of Kemet pushed into the area, drove out the Nubian natives, and made use of the resources they found there, including Nubian gold.
In the Old Kingdom, climate change caused desiccation and the withdrawal of large animals, which are now found only farther south in Africa. Kemet’s forces withdrew from the area and the native peoples returned. For some centuries the pharaohs of Egypt traded with the rulers of Nubia. Egyptian and Nubian rulers shared leadership styles, religious ideas, and a penchant for building monuments; the kings and queens of Nubia built hundreds of pyramids, many of which still stand.
The Kemet-Nubia trade was disrupted during the hundred years of Egyptian civil war in the First Intermediate Period. Demand developed in Egypt for Nubian mercenaries, particularly their fine archers, pictured in rows on Egyptian monuments. After the reunification of the country that launched the Middle Kingdom, Egypt once again occupied lower Nubia, building fortifications to control the important trade routes, although this time Nubians remained resident.
The beginning of the Second Intermediate Period coincided with the emergence of the Nubian kingdom of Kush, centered around the city of Kerma at the fourth cataract of the Nile. The rulers of Kush allied with the Hyksos who had invaded Kemet and pushed the pharaohs out of Lower Nubia. In the New Kingdom a Kemetic family dynasty based in Waset, Thebes, succeeded in driving the Hyksos from Kemet and secured the border with Kush. Throughout the New Kingdom, Kush and Kemet contested the area south of Waset, and the rulers of Kemet captured and enslaved Kushite warriors.
Later in the New Kingdom, relations between Kemet and Kush were friendlier and Kushite royal families were educated at Kemetic courts. It is difficult to trace Nubian families in the later New Kingdom since they adopted Egyptian names and appear in the records as indistinguishable from Egyptians. Upper-class families assimilated into the Egyptian bureaucracy and married into the Egyptian royal families. In many real senses Nubia and Egypt, Kush and Kemet, shared a single culture.
In the Third Intermediate Period, foreigners invaded Kemet; first Libya, then the Persian Empire. As Kemet weakened, another strong dynasty emerged in Kush based in the new city of Napata. Kushite armies marched into Kemet, secured Waset, and pushed as far north as Sau in the Nile delta. Although rulership changed, daily life and culture did not; Napata and Waset both honored Amun as the deity of the cities, and Kushite rulers continued the strong traditions of Kemet.
While women sometimes ruled in Kemet, the traditions of queenship were even stronger in Kush. Kushite pharaohs established a strong ruling dynasty of women in Waset, daughters of the pharaohs who were loyal to the family dynasty, serving both as secular leaders and as priestesses, “God’s Wives of Amun.” Each priestess adopted her successor, securing the succession and indicating as well a strong sense of spiritual guidance between the women.
When the Kemetic pharaoh Psamtik succeeded in pushing the Persians out of the country, he secured Sau for a native Kemetic dynasty for the first time in centuries, but a Kushite priestess still ruled Waset. Psamtik persuaded Shepenupet to adopt his daughter as her successor. Neitokrity was young enough that it is likely her mother came with her to Waset to care for her as she grew into her new role.
LEARNING MA’AT
When Krity was an older child she went to school. The morning call woke her before dawn. Her mother heard her stirring on her cot and said, “Go back to sleep. It’s only the call to the bakers.” Krity didn’t care that Nu had adopted her. Mehetnusekhet would always be her real mother.
At the second call her mother shook her cot. Krity struggled awake and wriggled into a scruffy everyday robe. She scurried out to the table to share a breakfast of fruit, bread, and water.
Before she was even finished, scrawny Pabasa poked his head in the door. “Come on! We’re going to be late!” Krity jumped up and gave her mother a quick, fierce hug before dashing out the door.
The two ran down the path toward the House of Life. They were just in time to snag seats along the wall, a prized location as they could lean up against it when the teachers weren’t looking. The first teacher rapped on his lap board. “Seshat opens the House of Life. Come to us Thoth!”
“Come to us Thoth,” the students repeated dutifully. “Grant us skill in your ways. Being a scribe is better than all other ways.”
The teacher distributed pottery shards to the students, yesterday’s copy lesson that had been corrected with red ink. “Copy these again,” he said. “When you are done, write this.” He propped up a slab of pottery with the text of the day. “The maxims of Ptahotep, maxim five.”
Krity groaned. “How many of those are there?” she whispered to Pabasa.
Pabasa grinned and whispered back, “Stop whining. There are only thirty-seven of them.”
Her voice rose. “Thirty-seven! And this is number five?”
Their teacher glared at them and hissed them to silence. Krity bent her head over her palette, carefully mixed her ink, and copied the inscription on her pottery shard. She loved the way the meaning unfolded as the pen scratched over the clay. She repeated the words to herself as they came clear.
The teacher said severely, “Neitokrity, if you’re going to speak the text, recite it to all of us.”
Krity cleared her throat. “Ma’at is great, Ma’at was established in the time of Osiris, in the end Ma’at remains.”
The teacher continued the lesson. “What is Ma’at?”
“The goddess of justice,” Krity said.
The teacher frowned. “I didn’t say who. I said what.”
“Ma’at is the way of justice,” Krity corrected herself.
A priest appeared in the door. “We need a Seshat,” he announced.
The teacher jerked his head at Krity. Sighing, she got up. “Why do I always have to be Seshat,” she grumbled. The goddess of libraries and the female scribe, Seshat measured the temple’s length. In practice, that often meant her human representative stood in the hot sun holding one end of a cord while a priest recited prayers at the other end. As the school’s only girl student, Krity often ended up in the role.
The priest said, “You will hold the cord for your own house of eternity. Isn’t that enough reason?”
The chapel under construction had been started for Shepenupet’s first heir Amenirdis. But Amenirdis wasn’t around anymore, she’d found a king to marry back in Kush, so the tomb was going to be Krity’s instead. Krity supposed she ought to be grateful—not everyone had a house in which to live for eternity—but it was a sunny day in the young years of her life, and she’d rather have stayed in the cool room with her friends.
The Kemetic Academy
During Pharaonic times Kemet was considered by Greeks and Romans to be the most advanced civilization in the world. Greek philosophers and educators such as Thales, Hippocrates, Pythagoras, and Plato travelled to Kemet to learn.
The temples were the schools. While much Eurocentric scholarship has investigated the religious practices in the temples, Afrocentric scholars recover the depth of function of these centers of knowledge. Dr. Molefi Kete Asante is Professor of the Department of African American Studies at Temple University. Among his seventy books, the slim volume The Egyptian Philosophers gives us a glimpse into the subjects the Greeks went to Kemet to learn, including science, philosophy, and medicine.
Temples in the ancient world often doubled as hospitals. On the Greek island of Kos people came to a temple of the god Asklepios to dream and be healed. One of the healers there, an “asclepiad,” was Hippocrates. We remember him because of the vow that begins “I swear by Apollo the physician and Asklepios and Hygeia and Panacea and all the gods and goddesses.” That part gets left out today, but physicians still take the Hippocratic oath to heal to the best of their ability.
Hippocrates learned from Egyptian medical texts. He may have travelled to Kemet himself, to the medical temple of Imhotep at Memphis to study at the temple library. He certainly knew that Asklepios was the Greek form of Imhotep. Imhotep was a man honored as a god after a long life filled with accomplishments. Known today primarily as the architect of the step pyramid at Saqqara, he was also a healer serving in the temple at Memphis, pioneering treatments, and writing medical treatises.
Even more than an architect and a healer, Imhotep was known as one of the great philosophers of Kemet. As might be expected for someone who lived in 2600 BCE, Imhotep’s philosophical works have largely disappeared. Asante points to the famous “Harper’s Song” found in the tomb of Pharaoh Intef which quotes Imhotep as saying that we should be happy while we live, keep ourselves clean, remain peaceful, and use the gifts of the gods, knowing we return to the gods upon our death.
Women also learned and taught in the medical temples. In Hypatia’s Heritage, Margaret Alic cites a tablet found at the temple of Sais reading: “I have come from the school of medicine at Heliopolis, and have studied at the woman’s school at Sais where the divine mothers have taught me how to cure diseases.” This chance survival documents women’s contributions to medicine in Egypt; how many other subjects did they teach?
The temple curricula taught more than medicine, science, and religion. In Maat, The Moral Ideal in Ancient Egypt, Maulana Karenga points to Kemet as a wellspring of philosophy. Ma’at developed throughout the pharaonic period but in all periods remained the foundational religious/spiritual conception of the Kemetic people.
Karenga establishes the idea of Ma’at as the way of rightness. Ma’at is a spiritual and moral principle similar to the ideas of other religions, justice in Islam, dharma in Hinduism, agape in Christianity. Ma’at is a description of the natural order like the Homeric dike, Chinese tao, and Hindu rta. Ma’at is connected as well to the idea of morality, like the conception of iwa or character in Ifá, and the Dinka cieng or way of life.
Karenga situates key Kemetic texts as philosophical texts. These include the Shabaka Text, the Pyramid and Coffin Texts, the Declarations of Virtue, and the Declarations of Innocence in the Books of Coming Forth by Day. He draws from these traditions to articulate a Way of Worthiness. He offers this conception as a contribution to the restoration of the Ma’at-ian ethical tradition.
SERVING THE DIVINE
When Krity grew into her womanhood, she joined the choir of the temple. In the morning two young servant women took Krity to the small bathing chamber where they washed her, shaved any hair that had managed to sprout on her body, and anointed her with oil. Her mother Mehetnusekhet plaited Krity’s hair, then helped her put on her fine white linen robes.
Mehet stayed behind in the house while Krity joined the procession of priestesses and priests streaming into the temple. Krity took her place in the chorus of priestesses who shook the sistrum. The offerings were already heaped on the tables—meat and cheese, fruit and beer, bread and honey. Krity’s mouth watered, but it was not yet time for her to eat; first the god must take his share.
The soloist began the Morning Song. “Wake, all you neteru, awake! Amun amouni, great god Amun, awake!”
“Amun amouni,” Krity sang with the rest of the chorus. They drew out the vowels, ahhhhhhhhhhh mun, ahhhhhhhhhhh mouni, floating on a long string of melody, pulling them all into a mind-stilling trance.
The song seemed to go on forever. Finally the High Priest of Amun threw the bolt to the holy of holies. A priest handed him a lit oil lamp. The High Priest entered the sanctuary and set the oil lamp in it. He removed a single tray of food and handed it back to the waiting priests. They handed back to him a new tray of food. Then several priests bowed their way into the sanctuary to remove the god’s linens, anoint him, and wrap him again.
Krity stood on her toes to try to catch a glimpse of the god, looking over the tall shoulders of the priests. She thought she saw a flash in the shadows and drew in a sharp breath. The god seemed to know she was there. Did he know she would one day be his wife?
The High Priest held up a censer offering incense to the god and then held up a tiny statue of Ma’at, offering Ma’at to the god. Finally he stepped back and gave way to Shepenupet, splendid in her new gold necklaces and jeweled bracelets. The God’s Wife walked into the holy of holies and closed the door behind her. From without they could hear the rattle of her sistrum.
Some time passed. Krity fidgeted. Someone sneezed.
Shepenupet emerged again, nodded regally to the High Priest, and left the sanctuary. Krity had gotten up the courage to ask her what she did while she was alone with the god, but Nu had not answered. Did she dance? Sing? Sometimes Krity thought she heard a sistrum. Mostly there was just silence. Some of the young priests made lewd jokes, making Krity squirm.
The High Priest offered more incense, spilled water on the floor, swept the floor and sprinkled sand on it. Then he closed the sanctuary, leaving behind the tray of food and the burning lamp.
By the time Krity got back to her house, her share of the morning’s offerings had been delivered. Her mother turned a shining face toward her, proud of her daughter’s work. “Look, food from the gods,” she said, offering Krity a plate of fruit.
Kemetic Temples and Priesthood
Temples in Kemet were served by a full-time professional priesthood. Each temple housed a main deity with chapels dedicated to other deities as well. At Ipet-Iset, the deity in the holiest center of the temple was Amun, but he had an additional chapel in a trio with the goddess Mut and the child moon-god Khonsu. The war-god Mentu was also honored at the temple.
Common people, those not in the royal family or priesthood, did not have access to the inner temple where the deity was housed and fed, much as they did not have access to the palace of the pharaoh. They could enter the outer courtyard and address the god. In later dynasties chapels were built for the use of the unpurified commoner that might contain a statue of the deity, a statue of pharaoh, or just a carving of an ear in the wall. These chapels are sometimes called “Chapel of the Hearing Ear.”
The professional priesthood, full and part time, maintained purity by shaving all hair and bathing every morning; at Karnak the priesthood bathed in the sacred lake.
Each morning the temple priesthood would approach the statues, providing them with clothing, feeding them, and providing less tangible offerings including music, singing, and the idea of justice and order, Ma’at. Serge Sauneron provides a description of these rituals in The Priests of Ancient Egypt.
Robert Ritner’s indispensable work The Mechanics of Ancient Egyptian Magical Practice discusses the work of temple priests and priestesses outside the temples. While some of the priesthood resided near the temple and worked there year-round, others served a shift at the temple for a few months, then returned to their homes, where they were called on to perform ritual and healing work in their communities.
The temple walls and papyri are inscribed with instructions on how to perform rites for the gods who lived there. The most important rite was the one that invited deity into the statue, literally bringing the god to life, the Opening of the Mouth. This could also be performed on the mummies of pharaohs and other members of the royal family to bring them into the presence of the gods in the afterlife. The ritual ensured that the eyes could see and the mouth could receive food offerings. E. A. Budge provided a translation of the ritual in The Book of Opening the Mouth: The Egyptian Texts with English Translations; Mark Smith updated the effort in The Liturgy of Opening the Mouth for Breathing.
At first it was only royalty who joined the gods upon death. The Pyramid Texts of the Old Kingdom assisted the deceased royalty in their afterlife journey to join the sun god on his daily journey. These texts have been translated by Samuel Mercer, R. O. Faulkner, and Miriam Lichtheim. By the Middle Kingdom the secret had leaked, and well-placed families could have these texts drawn on their coffins to help them gain access to the realm of the stars in the afterlife. These have been translated by R.O. Faulkner in The Coffin Texts. Maulana Karenga extensively analyses these texts in Maat, The Moral Idea in Ancient Egypt.
By the New Kingdom, the rituals guiding the deceased in their journeys had become available to everyone as funerary scrolls. The 1250 BCE Papyrus of Ani, titled Book of Going Forth By Day, is the most complete of these texts. Ernest Arthur Wallis Budge provided a translation as The Book of the Dead.
The Papyrus of Ani no longer survives thanks to Budge’s careless treatment of the text during his tenure at the British Museum. In an act of colonialist acquisition he purchased the scroll, cut it up, had it mounted on wood, and displayed it in a hall where direct sunlight destroyed the original papyrus. Fortunately, he had commissioned a copy. This copy has been produced in several new editions. Karenga also analyses this text in his work Maat.
By the Late Period, the sacred writings were in widespread use among common people. Kemetic priestesses and priests used the texts in rituals to aid people in their daily lives. These made their way onto scraps of papyrus written in demotic script, a late cursive form of hieroglyphic.
As increasing numbers of Greeks visited and settled in Egypt, Greek magicians began to learn these spells, and copy them onto papyrus. A number of these papyrus spells written in both Greek and demotic Egyptian were collected in The Greek Magical Papyri in Translation edited by Hans Dieter Betz. These papyri include spells for healing, instructions for inducing trance, and rituals for calling Kemetic and Greek deities into the bodies of small statues for the magician’s use.
Just as the sacred texts used by royal families in pyramids made their way out into general use over time, the texts that brought the deity to life in the grand temple became a spell to bring the deity to life in a small shrine in the home. Richard Reidy’s excellent contemporary work Eternal Egypt: Ancient Rituals for the Modern World bridges these worlds. Reidy adapts the Opening of the Mouth ritual for bringing deity into a home statue. The priestess or priest then performs temple rituals for the deity, bringing the deity food, clothing, and incense daily in an intense and dedicated devotional.
FLOOD
Krity panted up the stairs of the pylon. For some reason Nu had decided to have their lesson up here today.
When Krity reached the top, she found Shepenupet leaning against the wall looking out over the river. Nu didn’t talk, so Krity leaned against the wall too. Watching the river rise was always exhilarating and frightening. The slowly swelling waters swept away the carefully tended gardens and edged toward the houses of the town. Then the water stopped, crept back into the river’s banks, and the people came down to the newly deposited black soil to plant their crops again.
On bad years, the water rose too high and washed into the houses while the families carried their belongings to safety. Or the waters barely rose at all and the new fertile mud did not come, leaving the farmers to scratch the depleted soil and try to make it produce again.
This year the flood had come, which was good. All through the hot summer months the people waited to see how high it would rise, splashing in the cool waters, grateful for the river’s gifts but eager to get back to the work of growing food again.
“There,” Nu said suddenly. Krity looked where she was pointing. She could just make out a thin mound of mud rising up from the river. “It’s peaked. The flood has peaked.”
Every year the world was made new again. First the flood came, a chaos of water. Then the land emerged and the waters gave way to green growing things, order, life. Ma’at.
“Amun spoke the word and the world was created,” Nu murmured.
“Neit,” Krity countered, still stubbornly clinging to the goddess of her childhood. “Neit created the world.”
Nu laughed. “Neit created the world,” she agreed. “And so did Ptah. But you live in Amun’s house so it might be a good idea to thank him.” She exhaled as if she had held a month’s long breath. “We have done our work correctly. It’s a good year,” she said.
Kemetic Cosmology
Today Cairo’s airport sits in a suburb of that sprawling metropolis, and every visitor who flies to Cairo lands there. In ancient times, this suburb was its own city, known to the Egyptians as Iunu, and to the Greeks as the “city of the sun,” Heliopolis. In ancient times, this city was a religious center and home to an early and vigorous cosmology known as the Heliopolitan cosmology.
This Heliopolitan story is reproduced in several places, most completely in the Book of Knowing the Manifestations of Ra and of Overthrowing the Serpent Apophis, translated by R. O. Faulkner as the Bremner-Rhind Papyrus. The story begins when Atum-Re-Kephra mounts the primal hill. This god spit out Shu, air, and Tefnut, moisture. Shu and Tefnut created Geb, earth, and Nut, sky, who in turn created Osiris, Isis, Set, and Nephthys. These deities form the central core of the Kemetic deities.
In his work Maat, Karenga analyses the gender of the creator deities. He quotes Coffin Text 132 as saying Amen-Re made as male and birthed as female, acting as both father and mother. Neit, he says, also encompasses male as well as female qualities. Both women and men are made in the image of the divine.
In The Egyptian Philosophers Molefi Kete Asante explicitly connects the Kemetic cosmology stories with the annual inundation of the Nile. Rain falls every year in the African highlands, washing soil into the river. Before the Aswan dam was built, these waters flooded down along the river to the Nile delta and thus to the sea. During the flood, water covered vast tracts of land. As the waters receded, a mound of earth could be seen to form within the water, and then the river returned to its banks. The cosmology story of the Egyptian people exactly described this process: water covered everything, then earth emerged, the self-created deity of life. Asante makes the point that the Greeks adapted this cosmology story to feature the elements water, earth, air, and fire.
What has happened since the Aswan dam was built? The fertile soil builds up on the Nubian side of the dam, burying the villages that were flooded when the dam was created. Farmers spread expensive fertilizer created from petroleum on the land to return a measure of fertility. The flood has been tamed at a cost difficult to sustain.
Asante notes that every thinker, whether philosopher, theologian, or scientist, must grapple with the origin of the world. Greek philosophers returned to Kemetic cosmology as a nourishing source again and again over the millennia, just as the flood nourished the land. For example the ogdoad and the image of the lotus rising from the mud re-appear in Iamblichus’s work On the Egyptian Mysteries.
There is one more story to tell here, possibly the most famous story to come out of Kemet. It is the story of Isis and Osiris, brother and sister, wife and husband, and the love that transcends death.
Osiris ruled the fertile land with compassion and wisdom. Mad with jealousy, his brother Set murdered Osiris and scattered his limbs throughout the land. Isis mourned, crying out for him, seeking him everywhere. Her sister Nephthys joined her in her search. Even though Set was her husband, Nephthys joined forces with her sister, choosing to act to restore Ma’at.
The two sisters managed to collect all the pieces of Osiris and re-assembled them. This body gave the ba of Osiris a place to return. Isis Great of Magic fanned her wings and brought the breath of life back to his lungs. Then Isis lay with her husband for one final night, a triumph of love, a triumph of magic, a triumph of life over death.
Beyond that one night he could not stay in the green land of day. Osiris went to the Duat, the desert land of the dead, to rule the red land of night as he had ruled on earth when he lived.
Meanwhile Isis realized she had conceived. Knowing that an heir would threaten Set’s right to hold the throne, she hid in the rushes beside the Nile until she gave birth. She named the boy Horus and raised him in secret until he was fully grown.
When Horus achieved his full growth, Isis told him the story of his life. Filled with righteous anger, Horus stormed into the court of Set, challenged his uncle, and rushed upon him in battle. Set fought with the cunning of an accomplished murderer, but Horus fought with the strength of young justice. Horus triumphed, toppling Set from the throne, and took his place as ruler of the land of day.
Stories differ about what happened next. In some stories Set and Horus are still fighting. In others each rule half of Kemet, Upper and Lower. We also find Horus as the sun, Re-Horakty, travelling over the heavens in his boat during the day, then travelling through the Duat every night. In his dangerous nightly journey he is accompanied by many deities, among them Set, who stands at the bow of the boat and defends Re-Horakty with his spear.
The story is retold in many versions through many sources. It is clear that it dates to at least 2500 BCE, and there is no reason to believe it is not older. It was loved in ancient times and is loved today. The image of Isis holding Horus on her lap is the image of mother and child, thousands of years older than the image of Mary holding Jesus. The grief of Isis speaks to everyone who has ever lost a loved one. The triumph of her magic, one more night with the one who has been lost, is the boon we all desperately dream.
DUTIES
Shepenupet waited impatiently in the door. Mehetnusekhet fussed with her robe while Neitokrity shied away from her like any adolescent chafing under her mother’s touch. “The bakers aren’t even up yet,” Krity complained. “Why do I have to go?”
Nu and Mehet traded an exasperated glance. Mehet said, “Because it is your duty.”
“A god’s wife seems to have a lot of duties,” she grumbled. Nu and Mehet laughed together.
As Nu and Krity followed the path toward the river, the cool breeze of the pre-dawn touched their faces. A shadow among the shadows blocked their path. Nu paused, then seemed to recognize something in the shape of his shoulders. “Ibi,” she said heavily.
“You are avoiding me,” he accused.
“I go to my mother’s house of eternity to pay my respects. There is a time for this conversation, and it is not here and now.”
The lightening sky revealed the scowl on his face. “Psamtik requires an answer. I require an answer.”
“Are you Psamtik’s steward?” she demanded. “Or are you mine?”
“I am both. The Black Land is one,” he countered.
She sighed. “I will meet with you today.” An edge crept into her voice. “Now will you let us pass?”
“My lady?” Priests gathered around them protectively.
Ibi stepped out of the path. “Today,” he said warningly.
Nu waited until they were well out of earshot before she muttered, “I need a bodyguard to protect me from my own steward.” She looked down at Krity. “When the time comes to appoint your steward, try to make sure he is yours and not the pharaoh’s,” she said. “Even if the pharaoh is of your family and especially if he is not.”
The priests helped them into the little boat and rowed them across to the West Bank toward the houses of the ancestors. The priests carried baskets of tools and food as they all walked toward the funeral chapels. It was a long walk.
Finally they reached the temples at Djanet, Medinet Habu. Krity thought they would go straight to the house of Amenirdis the first, Nu’s spiritual mother. Instead Nu turned toward the Mansion of Millions of Years, the funerary temple of Ramses III. “I want to show you something,” Nu said. The frieze she pointed at captured suffering in stone—bound men bowed their heads before the triumphant pharaoh. “Do you know who they are?”
This was always a tricky question from Nu. “Enemies of the pharaoh?” Krity ventured.
“Some of them are my people,” Nu said. “For many centuries the pharaohs of Kemet have turned to the south for gold and for soldiers. When we did not go willingly we were enslaved.”
Krity winced. She knew she was supposed to rejoice that the pharaoh had conquered his enemies, but the men carved into the stone seemed so wretched.
“Your ways have become our ways and you have learned from us. We who were slaves became pharaohs. We drove away the enemies of Kemet. We rebuilt the temples. We restored Ma’at.” Nu took Krity’s brown hand between her black ones. “Now you and I stand here together, both of us serving the same gods. Mother, daughter, together,” she said. “In my family women rule as queens. The daughters of Kush have ruled Waset. Rule after me, not as a servant, not as your father’s daughter, but as a queen.”
“My father is a good man,” Krity said immediately.
“He keeps Ma’at,” Nu agreed, and waited.
Krity felt something in her shift. She had not seen her father since he returned to Sau, but she saw Nu every day. Nu, who had survived Assurbanipal and had stood up to Psamtik. Nu who served Amun every day, as Krity would in her own time. Slowly she said, “Pabasa.”
“Pabasa?” Nu said.
“I want him for my steward,” she said.
Nu gave her measured look. “I know he is your brother,” she said, using the word which meant “lover.” When Krity started, Nu went on, “It’s none of my business or anyone else’s either, don’t let anyone tell you differently. But he will marry, and you’re married to the god, so it can’t be to you. Will you be able to work with him when he’s not your brother anymore?”
Krity didn’t answer immediately. It was a new idea.
Nu gave her a crooked half-smile. “Now let’s go make our offerings to Amenirdis.” She sighed. “I hope she will grant me some insight into how I should answer Ibi.”
Colonialization
The people of Nubia have always been black. They are depicted on monuments as black, and Nubian skin is among the deepest black humans can produce.
Shepenupet was Nubian. Neitokrity’s family came from the delta near Libya, where generations of conquest and intermarriage had introduced different genes. She was likely to have been lighter in color, but she was still African.
Everyone agrees Shepenupet was black, but not every scholar agrees that Neitokrity could be described as black. Eurocentric history claims Kemet for Europe. Egypt forms part of the Mediterranean culture, the wellspring of civilization. In this narrative Egypt is a special case, cut off from the rest of Africa by the cataracts of the Nile, belonging more to Greece and Rome than to Nubia or southern Africa. Racism detected a distinct difference between Nubia and Egypt: Nubia belongs to sub-Saharan Africa and is inhabited by “true Negroid” peoples. The peoples of Egypt, on the other hand, were of mixed “Caucasoid” and Arabic genes, not “Negroid.” They weren’t black; they were light skinned enough to be counted as white.
Cheikh Ante Diop thought the peoples of Egypt were black and are black today. In The African Origin of Civilization: Myth or Reality, he noted that the ancient Egyptian people did not think of themselves as separate from Africa but as relatives of the inhabitants of Kush and Napata and Meroë. Their art depicts a range of skin tones, and their writings pay no attention to skin color.
In his introduction to Karenga’s monumental work Maat, Jan Assman notes that the dialogue of Europe with Kemet has had three distinct phases. First, during Pharaonic times, both the Greeks and Romans considered Egypt to be the most advanced civilization in the world. Second, in the Renaissance, a romantic interest in antiquity led to the European appropriation of Egypt as part of the Mediterranean classical heritage. Third, the modern archaeological recovery of Egyptian artifacts and scripts established Egyptology as an academic discipline.
Afrocentric scholars are opening a fourth phase of dialogue, recovering the philosophers of Kemet both in historic context and as contributors to contemporary discourse. In Maat, Karenga writes as a Seba or moral teacher. He explicitly rejects the Eurocentric viewpoint that privileges Greece, treating Kemetic culture as a site for academic study. He points out that Eurocentric scholarship focuses on the mythopoeic aspects of Egyptian thought while denying its cultural depth and intellectual insight. He seeks to restore the place of Kemet as a wellspring of philosophy, contributing to contemporary religious discussion.
Many scholars in the magical communities have come to realize that we owe a debt to Kemet, that failing to acknowledge it continues the colonialization of Kemet by Europe, and that it is our duty to uphold Ma’at. We understand Kemet as the black land, the people of Kemet as black, the accomplishments of Kemet as the greatest in the ancient world, and ourselves as only students.
ALONE WITH AMUN
Aging Shepenupet eventually turned over most of her duties to her adult successor.
Krity trembled a little as she waited for the High Priest to offer Ma’at to Amun. Finally her turn came to step into the shrine. She fumbled with the massive door; the man winced and helped her close it.
The flickering lamp lit the room and played over the face of Amun. He stood erect, regal, his eyes staring into her soul. Her heart beat very quickly. She’d never been alone with the god before and Nu hadn’t answered any of her questions about what to do. “When the time comes, you will know,” she always said.
The sistrum! Krity lifted the rattle in her trembling hands and shook it twice. The sound echoed loudly in the small chamber and she stopped, confused. “I don’t know what you want,” she said to Amun.
She thought she heard something in her mind but she wasn’t sure. “Say that again?”
Later, in the heat of midday, she found herself crouching on a mat while an aged priest methodically chopped herbs on a reed board. She waited patiently, not interrupting him, until he finally deigned to notice her. “Incense for Mut,” he said.
Krity cleared her throat. “Wise one, I need your help,” she said.
He didn’t look up at her. “I wondered when you would come.”
“Nu won’t tell me.” He said nothing to this. Krity rushed on, “I saw the god today. He said—” She hesitated, then plunged on. “He told me to quiet my mind.”
Was that a smile she saw on his face? It was gone in an instant. “That task may require years to master.”
“Then let’s start,” Krity said.
He held her eyes for a long moment. “Very well. Settle the body, still the mind, contemplate the divine. What does it mean to settle the body?”
Stilling the Mind
Every great religion instructs us to still our minds. The task of those who seek to hear the divine is to clear out enough of ourselves that the divine can actually be heard.
The magical papyri from Greece and Egypt make long invocations to the deities. They are composed of words of course, but they also include sounds that seem nonsensical to us. First, there are long strings of vowels. Chanting to vowel sounds, a musical technique called “melisma,” comes to us in the European world from medieval times, liturgical chants connected to the chants of ancient Greece. It is arguable that the vowel sounds in the spells partly serve the same function, to create a trance state within the singer.
The spells also specify popping and hissing sounds. Long strings of P’s are followed by strings of S’s. They aren’t nearly as pretty as the vowel sounds and don’t have as clear a modern counterpart. Peter Kingsley has an idea that sheds light on these. In his work In the Dark Places of Wisdom, Kingsley notes that the hissing sound was described by a word that means “flute.” Actually, the word is translated more as “pipe”; it’s the sound a harsh flute makes.
The earliest Greek philosophers discussed the music of the spheres, describing not a beautiful melody but a hissing sound. In 1964, two Bell labs scientists (Arno Penzias and Robert Wilson) noticed a low hiss in the horn antenna they had built. Scientists eventually decided this hiss was the residual effect of the Big Bang. They named it Cosmic Microwave Background—the music of the spheres!
Kingsley notes that humans hiss at one another when we want each other to be silent. Those pops and hisses in the magical papyri may be techniques for calling the perpetually busy mind to be silent long enough to hear the divine. Hissing features in the ritual practice of theurgy, as we seek to quiet our minds to listen to the gods.
A YOUNG SESHAT
Krity stomped up the stairs. The insufferable, snobby, unhelpful—stomp! The High Priest of Amun insisted on lingering over his office while the priests waited and the food became cold. She had only a few minutes each day in the presence of the god striving to hear his voice while she tamed the beehive of her thoughts.
Somewhere up above she heard a sniffle.
Gathering her linen skirt in her hands, Krity moved silently now, easing herself out onto the roof of the pylon. A small girl tucked her head in her knees, crying. Gently Krity said, “Good morning.” The girl startled like a bird and leapt up to run, but Krity filled the door. “Sit down,” Krity said, and the girl dropped instantly as if commanded.
Krity leaned on the pylon wall, breathing the morning air. “I love to come up here,” she said. “It helps me think. Actually, it helps me practice not thinking.” Krity glanced at the trembling girl and realized she was understanding none of this. She tried again. “What’s your name?”
“Ru. Irtyru.”
“Ru, why are you crying?”
“I want to be a scribe!” she burst out. “My father says it’s better than all other ways.”
Krity smiled, thinking of Pabasa. Scribes thought so much of themselves. “Why can’t you be a scribe?”
“I went to school with my father, but the teacher wouldn’t take me. He said girls can’t go to school.”
Rule after me, Nu said. Krity drew herself up to her full height. She had had it with self-important priests. “There’s always a Seshat,” she said. “In fact, I think there ought to be more than one, don’t you?” She held out her hand. “Let’s go see about that.”
Chance Survivals
Kemetic history covers many thousands of years. What do we really know of the lives that were lived there? Scholars generalize based on the few bits of evidence that have chanced to survive. Many sources have said there were no female scribes in Egypt. Then a female scribe was found.
Until recently Tomb TT390 was part of someone’s house. People still live on the dusty hills, still dig in tombs to find treasures to sell, still re-use the old buildings to house their families. This is what happened to Irtyru’s tomb. When the government offered the family a chance to move to a better house in 2006, an archaeological team began to excavate the original tombs. The South Asasif Conservation Project led by Dr. Elena Pischikova and Katherine Blakeney continues to shore up the tombs and has already restored some of the friezes. The inscriptions identify one of the tombs’ owner as a scribe and chief attendant to Neitokrity. There is an offering inscription to Irtyru’s father, while Neitokrity is present in many scenes; clearly Irtyru honored them both.
In a 2014 blog post entitled “Irtieru and the Woman in Black Garments,” one of the Dr. Pischikova’s team members confessed to listening for Irtyru’s whisper to point out where to place the restored blocks. Irtyru is still called on to fulfill the office of Seshat.
BURYING MOTHERS
Women who live long enough come to the time when we stand at the head of our family, when all our mothers are ancestors now.
Irtyru stood stock still in the harsh sun holding her end of the line. Neitokrity held the other end of the line in one hand and a papyrus in the other, chanting the prayer.
Finally it was done. Krity and Ru stepped back while the masons moved in to block out the room. “I thought that was your house of eternity,” Ru said, pointing at the big chapel next door.
“It was going to be,” Krity said. “I’m giving it to Mehetnusekhet so I need a room of my own.” Her eyes stung. It was still hard to believe that her mother wasn’t going to be waiting for her at home.
She looked down at the girl. “Shall we pay our respects to Shepenupet? You would have liked her. She was spunky like you.”
The girl stood solemnly with her while they looked up at the friezes. Neitokrity started to read out the inscriptions, but stopped. “You read them,” she said to Ru. Slowly the girl puzzled out the words. “Hemet neter,” God’s wife, “you with the true voice, your sister Isis is filled with joy when she sees you. She protects you. She gives you breath as she gave Osiris breath.”
When the girl had finished, there was silence in the chapel. Ru said quietly, “Do you miss her?”
A quiet joy filled Krity’s heart, washing away her grief and comforting her. “How can I miss her when she is still here?” When Mehet’s temple was complete, she could visit her too.
The Kemetic Soul
For the people of Kemet, the dead didn’t leave.
The Kemetic conceptions of the afterlife involve relatively complicated conceptions of the makeup of each individual person. In “The New Kingdom ’Divine’ Temple,” Lanny Bell explores the importance of ancestor culture. Death did not sever the relationship of the living to the deceased; instead, they continued to play a vital role in the life of the family. You could be comfortable living above a tomb or in one.
The person was composed of multiple parts. First of course was the body, which on death would become the corpse and could be preserved by mummification. There was also the shade, drawn as a silhouette of the body, indicating the incarnation of life in the body. There was the name, expressing the true essence of the individual, which could be spoken to provide life to the deceased. Many tombs, temples, and stelas inscribe names and a prayer to the passer-by to speak them. There was also the heart, which served some of the same functions the head does for us as the seat of the individual’s intellect and feelings. The books of the dead that detail the journey of the afterlife describe the weighing of the heart of the individual to determine whether the individual had lived a virtuous life.
In addition to body, shade, name, and heart were three components that are less familiar to us: the ka, the akh, and the ba.
The ka (life force), did not belong to the individual and left the body at death. This was the connection of the individual to the ancestral line, to the first ancestor, and to the gods who created that ancestor. Each living individual formed a link in the family line between the past—ancestors who had come before—and the future, those who would come after in the family line. All the members of that ancestral line, dead, living, and not yet born, make up the ka.
The modern conception of the soul does not map neatly onto any of the Kemetic/Egyptian parts of the soul, but the closest analogue may be the ba. Depicted as a bird with the head of a human, it was closely tied to the body, inhabiting the body during life and separated from the body at death. Bell calls the ba the “spiritual body.”
The akh was associated with the recently dead and was worshipped in ancestor shrines in the home by family members who continued to closely feel their presence. It was the akh who could intercede for the family, or in the case of angry spirits who were not properly buried, disturb the living.
In his work The Ancient Pyramid Texts James Allen explains that the pharaoh’s akh was godlike in life and joined the gods among the stars on death. Lesser individuals could aspire to this condition if the ba could rejoin its ka, the force of life. It was the function of the spells contained in the Pyramid Texts to accomplish that reunification. Each morning the sun emerged from the death of darkness to be reborn; the ba-ka could also go forth by day.
As access to the spells to reunify the parts of the deceased trickled out into the general populace, families took on the duties of feeding the dead, just as the gods were fed in their temples each day. Food left for the deceased could strengthen the ka-force in the ba. Tombs of pharaohs included stores of physical food, private tombs were sometimes equipped with altars where food could be left by the living, while images of food on tombs and stelas also nourished the deceased.
Each time we speak the name of one of the priestesses and priests who came before us, we stand in as their spiritual children, fulfilling their desire to be remembered, to be literally brought together again so that they might live forever.
SUCCESSION
As Neitokrity aged, she thought more and more about how to secure the power of her office. She had managed to choose her own steward and control her own property. But how would her successor fare?
The priests and priestesses of Amun gathered in the open courtyard, all of them, the first and second and third and fourth prophets, the chanters, the sem priests who opened the mouths of the gods and the dead so that they could live. Their chatter filled the air. Krity lifted one arm, and they all fell silent. Well, they should! She’d known all of them since they were children. She’d served the temple for many decades now. Long enough to have completed the course of training in the temple. Long enough to have learned how to silence her mind. Silencing a crowd was easy compared to that.
“We have gathered to greet our new High Priest of Amun,” she said. Her eye fell on the Harkheb, cramped with age, smirking next to his hand-picked successor. Cramped in spirit too; just yesterday as Krity stood with quiet mind in the presence of the god, soaring on the wings of his presence, Harkheb banged on the door for her to hurry up so he could have his breakfast, and broke her trance.
Krity reached back and grabbed Ankhesneferibre’s hand. “You know her,” she said, “this is my spiritual daughter.” She was the pharaoh’s choice for her successor, just as Krity had been the pharaoh’s choice. “You all know how hard Ani has worked to learn the office I hold.”
Harkheb fidgeted, clearly anxious for her to get on with it.
“Our priest has chosen his successor.” The old man stood up straighter. “I affirm Paser as the next High Priest of Amun. However, this choice is also mine to make.” Krity took a deep breath. “Due to her diligence, her great energy, and her clear devotion to Amun, I appoint Ankhesneferibre to the office of High Priest, to succeed Paser in the office.”
“No!” the Harkheb said violently. Hori next to him shook his fist angrily. One of the older men—was it the teacher of the scribes?—called out, “A woman?! The high priest?”
Krity’s steward Pabasa called out, “Why not?” Krity flashed him a smile.
“Yes, why not?” Ru called out, squeezing her own daughter’s ink-stained hand.
For a tense moment Krity held Harkheb’s eyes. Then he shrugged. He had what he wanted; it wasn’t worth fighting over. Paser grumbled, but he had what he wanted as well, and it wasn’t a good start to oppose the God’s Wife in public. The priests and priestesses took their cue and straggled out of the courtyard to go back to their business. Why not?
“There,” Krity said fondly to Ankhesneferibre. “Now no one will rush you to finish when you are with the god.”
THE LESSONS OF NEITOKRITY
What can we learn from studying the life of Nt-ikrty mrti Mwt? While we know some things about her life through chance survivals of a few texts and images, there are huge gaps in our knowledge. How scholars approach Kemetic history often says as much about the scholar as the subject.
We know something about the social context of the servants of the god. The first lesson is how insignificant it was to the people and to the gods that they were Kushite or Saite, black or brown. Even today we still hear scholars say publicly “Egyptians weren’t black Africans, they were Caucasian.” Contemporary theurgists need to step up and call that kind of privilege out. The peoples of Kemet were African and peoples of color and our philosophical ancestors.
Another important lesson is how central women were to Kemetic religious life. Eurocentric history writes women out of the story. We constantly fight to regain and retain our own heritage. It is not uncommon to read that there were no women scribes, even after the discovery of Irtyru’s tomb. The women who ruled Waset in Krity’s time wielded significant political power. Ankhesneferibre simultaneously held the two highest religious offices. One of my favorite images comes from Nefertari’s tomb, where she makes an offering to Hathor, a priestess offering to a goddess. In Kemet women acted with authority in the temple and without.
We know that the clergy could live at the temple year-round or could serve part time. The holders of the offices wielded political and spiritual power, and the priestly bureaucracy could make or break a pharaoh.
These offices were not just political but also deeply spiritual. The form that spirituality took is hazy to us, but we can recover some idea both from contemporary African practice and from similar traditions around the world. This spirituality was and is rooted in a strong moral sense that focuses on community, honoring the sacred, and sustaining life.
The priestesses and priests of Kemet served gods living in statues. The technique of calling a deity into a statue passed into the magical papyri. Greek theurgists learned the technique from Kemetic teachers, and it has been adapted by people like Richard Reidy for use today.
We know what the priestesses and priests did from the outside—we have clear images and descriptions of the offerings they made. But we don’t know what they did from the inside. What did the God’s Wife do when alone with the god? How did the priestesses and priests prepare for their offices? Their Greek visitors tell us the course of study in the temple at Waset took forty years to complete. What was taught there?
Since Plato and Iamblichus pointed to Kemet as the source of their philosophical, spiritual, religious knowledge and practice, we can infer that many or most theurgic techniques trace to ancient Kemetic teachings. Plato laid down the philosophical basis, describing successive meditations on the nature of the cosmos. Iamblichus described how to use that philosophy to approach the gods in the temples without and in the chambers of the mind. Studying their work may shed light on what the Kemetic priestesses and priests did in the dark silence of the temples.
Notes on the Story
While we have some record of Neitokrity’s life, we don’t have films or diaries or letters as we would from a more contemporary subject of biography. As with every dramatization, this story contains extrapolations. Some scholars would agree with these choices, some would argue for a different choice.
Mariam F. Ayad’s God’s Wife, God’s Servant is an excellent place to begin study of these powerful women. In The Black Pharaohs, Robert Morkot explores the complicated relationship between Kemet and Kush, detailing the struggle between the family dynasties of north and south.
The adoption of Neitokrity by Shepenupet is recorded on the walls of the temple. The record describes Neitokrity’s arrival by ship along with all the goods Psamtik sent with her. The record does not mention the negotiations that preceded her adoption and implies she came later; placing her in the temple at that time is a bit of dramatic license.
It is a mystery how Shepenupet survived the Persian sack of Waset, and how she remained in power even though the Kushite faction that enthroned her was overcome by their Saite rivals. She must have been a formidable politician as well as an effective priestess.
In “Celibacy and Adoption Among God’s Wives of Amun and Singers in the Temples of Amun,” Emily Teeter points to evidence for two mothers of the women, one physical and one spiritual. I have here portrayed Mehetnusekhet as Krity’s biological mother and Shepenupet as her adoptive, spiritual mother. While we don’t know that Mehetnusekhet accompanied her daughter to Waset, Neitokrity was quite young when she was adopted by Shepenupet and would have needed care. The inclusion of Mehetnusekhet’s chapel among the tombs of the God’s Wives argues for a continual and loving relationship.
While there is no record of Neitokrity learning the scribal trade, there is also no reason to think the most powerful priestess in Waset would not have received every education possible. We know she employed women scribes, most notably Irtyru.
Images depict Seshat and the pharaoh each holding an end of the cord to mark the location of the walls of new temples. As priests took the place of the pharaoh in ritual, there is no reason why a god’s wife or a girl scribe could not take the role of Seshat, the patron goddess of scribes.
Vowel chanting is used around the world to still the mind; medieval European manuscripts describe vowel chants. There doesn’t seem to be evidence that the Kemetic priesthood used the technique but it seems a reasonable supposition.
Since God’s Wives did not marry and did not bear their successors as their own biological daughters, but instead adopted their successors, some scholars argue that they remained virgins throughout their lives. Emily Teeter questions the assumption that the priestesses of Amun were necessarily celibate. Some singers are known to have had children. I note that Kemetic culture celebrated sexuality, and powerful women, like powerful men, tend to take the lovers they want.
While scholars like Asante and Karenga work to restore the teachings of ancient Kemet, there isn’t a lot of detail about what the teachers actually taught. The full course of study at the University of Waset took forty years. With a temple at the center of that teaching, surely some of the curriculum included meditation techniques.