For the Love of the Gods: The History and Modern Practice of Theurgy - Brandy Williams 2016

Plotinus
Stories from the Ancestors

About a hundred years after Plato’s death, the academy he founded veered off into skepticism, the idea that it is not possible to know truth. By then Plato was less revered, and when the Stoic school split off from the academy his work was left behind. It was six hundred years before his work was studied seriously again. This renaissance occurred in the land of Kemet after it became a Roman colony but when the great temples still honored the gods and taught students. The Kemetic/Egyptian, Greek, and Roman worlds converged in the melting pot of the port city Alexandria.

In Alexandria philosophers once again turned to the study of Plato. Today we call them Neo-Platonists, but they called themselves Platonists. The first of these was Ammonius, who we know primarily through his most famous student and the first theurgist, Plotinus. He lived 204—270 CE and studied in Alexandria, Egypt. The life of Plotinus exemplifies why teachers were held in such high regard in the ancient world; he was a genuinely good man.

A PICKY STUDENT

Plotinus thought the Greeks in Alexandria who offered themselves as teachers mostly talked to hear their own voices. No sooner had the priest in the Museion finished his invocation to the Muses than they fell over each other to reach the steps where they began to earnestly lecture everyone passing by. Plotinus had spent days listening to first one, then another, searching for a man who actually made sense. He still hadn’t found one he would care to call his teacher. He was beginning to wonder if he was being too picky.

A passing Greek bumped his shoulder. “Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry. Plotinus suppressed a spurt of rage. He got that a lot. He was Egyptian, and Alexandria was in Egypt, technically, but the cosmopolitan port town didn’t honor her native residents. After all, it was a king of Greece who had built the town—Alexander, whose lavish tomb reminded everyone that this was his city.

The same lout sneered at one of the teachers as he passed. “Hey, Ammonius,” he said. “Ammonius Saccas! There’s a load waiting for you at the dock.” The man’s friends laughed with him as they strode away.

Plotinus had heard of Ammonius, a friend had mentioned him in passing. Plotinus sat on the steps next to him. “Doesn’t that make you mad?” he said curiously.

Ammonius shrugged. “Why? They’re right, I used to be a dock worker. I will be again too if I don’t manage to attract more students.”

Plotinus found himself attracted to the man’s calm demeanor. “What do you teach?”

“Have you ever heard of Plato?”

“He lived so long ago,” Plotinus said dismissively. “Philosophy moved on.”

Ammonius laughed. “He’s too old for you? You’ve forgotten your own history then.”

“How so?” Plotinus said, irritated but intrigued.

“Have you read the Critias? Plato tells us when the politician Solon visited Egypt he travelled to Sais, to the city of your goddess Neit, who my people call Athena. There the priests told him that the Greeks were children because we have no beliefs passed on from ancestor to ancestor! And now you, inheritor of your ancient knowledge, are unwilling to learn from Plato because he lived too long ago. Truly Plato would be laughing.”

Plotinus didn’t see what was funny. “Alright, tell me one thing Plato said that is worth knowing.”

The man took in a deep breath, as if he was settling himself, looking within. “There are two worlds,” Ammonius said. “There is the world of being that does not change, the world of Forms. It can only be understood by the mind, so it is called the Intelligible World.”

Plotinus had never heard this before. “What’s the second world?”

“The world of becoming, the Sensible World, that can be grasped by the senses.”

“If there are two worlds, who created them? The gods?”

“The Craftsman,” Ammonius answered, “a being good and without jealousy. The Craftsman created the Cosmos on the plan of the forms, shaping fire, earth, air, and water into the body of the Cosmos; then the Craftsman filled the body with the World Soul.”

“What does this have to do with me?” Plotinus said.

“When you understand the cosmos you understand how to commune with the gods, and with the highest intellect that created the cosmos,” Ammonius said tranquilly. “And when you have done that, what does it matter if some lout insults you in the street?”

“Oh,” Plotinus said, absorbing this. After a while he said, “You are the man I was looking for. Would you accept me as your student?”

Aristotle and Macedonia

Plato did not choose Aristotle as his successor to lead the Athenian Academy. Aristotle left Athens and veered into his own philosophical territory, today called empiricism. Aristotle believed we could only know the world through the evidence of the senses, not by meditation on the infinite. For this he is hailed as the West’s first scientist. Aristotelian and Platonic thought have been at odds ever since, and scholars and philosophers have sought to reconcile them.

Aristotle wrote about anything and everything—biology, zoology, mathematics, philosophy, politics, theology, and poetry. Numerous works survive, fading out and in of Western history. His organization of subjects framed the curricula of the first universities in Europe, and his contempt for women closed them out of the academy for many centuries. His work was taken into Christian theology, and Islamic theology calls him the “first teacher.” He did not recognize that the soul could separate from the body, and so doubted that consciousness could survive death.

Aristotle grew up in the area north of Greece called Macedonia (confusingly, Macedonia now names both a region of Greece and an independent country). At a critical moment in his life, he was offered the opportunity to found his own Macedonian academy. There he tutored future kings, including Ptolemy and Alexander.

Alexander forged a fierce army with a distinctly us-versus-them outlook: the band of brothers were family and everyone else they encountered were more like natural resources to be harvested. That army travelled the old Persian trade routes and extended the Greek Empire into Egypt, Persia, and as far east as India. Alexander left generals of the army in charge of each of the regions as he went.

Then he died. He died young, in his thirties, before he could finish all the invasions he planned. No one else could hold such a huge empire together, and his empire was torn apart immediately by civil war. The individual generals became the leaders of their particular territories. Today in India there are still fair-haired, blue-eyed people descended from the soldiers Alexander left behind.

Ptolemy inherited Egypt in 323 BCE. He declared himself pharaoh, and his family dynasty rapidly went native, adopting Egyptian customs and styling themselves as new emperors. The last Ptolemaic ruler, Cleopatra, learned to speak the native language and presented herself to the people in pharaonic imagery, comparing herself to Hatshepsut. She lost Egypt to the Roman Empire in 30 BCE, ending three centuries of her family’s rule.

ALL ROADS LEAD TO ROME

“Tell me again,” the woman said, rolling onto her side on her couch. “Tell me the story again! You wanted to learn from the Persians, so you went to war with them?”

“It worked for Alexander,” Plotinus said testily. He wished the woman Gemina would stop laughing. He had spent eleven years with Ammonius before he enlisted in Emperor Gordian’s army to travel to Persia to learn from the fabled teachers there. After two years in the army he felt older than forty. He was sick of walking and wanted to sit forever.

“And then the emperor went and got himself killed.” Gemina kicked her feet laughing.

“Like Alexander,” Plotinus agreed. “Although he didn’t make it to India. I barely escaped with my life. I ran most of the way to Antioch. I had just enough coin to book passage to Italy, then I made my way overland to Rome.”

Gemina sat up. “Well, I brought you home because you wear the soldier’s tunic. And sandals,” she said, eyeing his hobnailed soles. “You are old enough to draw a veteran’s share. But you only served for two years?”

“I’m not Roman,” Plotinus admitted. “I’m Egyptian. Normally we serve in the fleet, but the emperor needed volunteers, so they took me, old as I was.”

“And now you have no coin to pay me for your room,” she sighed.

Plotinus said, “I have no trade, other than that of teacher. I hope to make my way with that alone, as my teacher did before me.”

“Well then,” she said shrewdly, looking him over. “What do you teach?”

Plotinus composed himself, diving into his memory. What had Ammonius said to him on that first day? “Settle the body, still the mind, contemplate the divine.”

The woman squinted at him. “The divine, what does that mean?”

“There are two worlds,” he said slowly. After years on the road as a soldier it was more difficult than he had thought to bring his mind back to the way. “There is the world of Forms that can be understood by the mind, and the world that can be understood by the senses. The kind and good Craftsman fashioned the Sensible World on the plan of the Forms. Our task is to school our minds to approach the gods, so that our soul may approach the One. When we can do this, what does it matter whether the emperor dies on the road?” As he spoke a great flood of peace washed away his physical pain, washed away the fear and doubt he had experienced when the army failed, and his anxious sense of being alone in the world. He remembered finally that he was never alone.

Gemina studied his tranquil face for a moment. “I’ve never heard teaching like this,” she said. “It makes sense of the world. It stirs my spirit.” She lifted her voice. “Gemina! Gemina daughter! Come in here! You have to hear this.”

Plotinus broke out of his trance, startled. “You mean there are two of you?”

The Roman Empire

Rome succeeded where Alexander did not.

The city of Rome was founded around 750 BCE. The Latin peoples conquered neighboring cities, planted colonies and a seaport, and built a small empire in central Italy. The neighboring Etruscan Empire invaded around 600 BCE and governed the Latin Romans for about a century. The Etruscans built Rome into a rich and prosperous city with roads, a sewer, and temples.

The last Etruscan king, Tarquin, was a despot, and the Latin aristocracy revolted, expelling the king and abolishing the monarchy in 509 BCE. Rome conquered Carthage, then Greece, adding Egypt in 30 BCE when Cleopatra surrendered to the Roman army.

The Celts had sacked Rome in 390 BCE. By 120 BCE, Rome had begun to push out along the roads of the Celtic peoples who they conquered as they went. Roman histories portray the Celts as barbarians and downplay their physical and cultural achievements, partly to justify the brutal Roman conquests. On the other hand, educated Romans respected Greek civilization; they studied Greek philosophy and literature and imported Greek teachers.

The success of the Roman Empire hinged on a number of factors. They were fantastic builders, laying down roads that could move soldiers and equipment rapidly across the empire. Soldiers were shipped out of their home area, served their enlistment, and then retired with a pension that allowed them a happy old age. The soldiers in turn kept civil order; it was said that a citizen could walk across the empire without being attacked by robbers. Roman law extended citizenship to the local elite who could in turn enjoy the benefits of civilization—plumbing, imported food, and entertainment.

At its height, the Roman Empire extended across Europe, North Africa, and the Caucasus Mountains into Asia. This is the exact area which we today point to as the cradle of civilization. This is not coincidental. “Western” civilization is in many ways still Roman, founded on colonialism and conquest, overwriting native cultures, dominating the world’s peoples with a ruling elite, and funneling the world’s resources to the homes of the elite.

THE DUTIFUL FATHER

“I thought I’d find you here,” Amphiclea said. “We’re ready for our Conference. And here you are doing the accounts.”

Plotinus laid aside his pen and sat back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. From this room he could see through the whole house: the dining room where couches sat around a low table, the courtyard where the children played with the dogs, the garden where the slaves gathered dinner. “Who else will do them?”

Amphiclea drew up a small stool to sit next to him. “One of the slaves could take the work from you.”

He waved his hand at the children. “Their parents trusted me to guide their fortunes until they are old enough to study philosophy themselves. I cannot fail them.”

“I don’t know how you do it all,” she said. “You teach, you write treatises, and you make time for the care of all these orphans. And you meditate every day.”

“Teaching is hardest,” he admitted. “Finding new words for my thoughts.”

Amphiclea tapped his desk. “You should teach what Ammonius taught you.”

“I promised Ammonius to keep his teachings secret,” he objected.

“So did Origen, and he’s written about it!” she said.

“I’ve thought that myself,” he admitted. “Perhaps it is time.”

A boy bounded up the stairs. “We’re ready!” he said.

Plotinus drew the boy against him. “Potamun, did you make the verse as I told you?”

The boy nodded solemnly. “It’s for Plato’s birthday,” he said. He looked slyly up at his guardian. “I’d rather make it for your birthday.”

Amphiclea laughed. “If you can get him to tell you when his birthday is you’ll truly be a philosopher!”

Plotinus put the boy aside and rose stiffly. “The physical does not matter,” he said. “But we should honor our great teachers, Plato and Socrates. The life of the mind is the life of the spirit.”

Roman Temples and Priesthood

Children’s books teach that there is a set of deities who have both Greek and Roman names, but the relationship between Greek and Roman deities is a little more complicated. The earliest Latin spirits, numen (the root of our word “numinous”) were rooted in place, spirits of farmland and house. We recognize the twelve Olympians in their Roman counterparts: Jupiter, Juno, Venus, Mars, Diana, Apollo, Minerva, Neptune, Vulcan, Vesta, Mercury, and Ceres.

The Etruscan rule of Rome brought Etruscan deities to the city closely resembling their Greek counterparts. We don’t know much about Etruscan deities except for their relationship to Roman deities, and scholars attempt to excavate the Etruscan essence by subtracting the Roman and Greek overlays. This effort is complicated by the later introduction of the Roman deities to the Etruscan pantheon. Here are the names of the deities associated with the Olympians (in the same order): Tinia, Uni, Turan, Laran, Artume, Aplu, Menvra, Nethuns, Sethlans, Ethausfa, Turms, Cels.

A thread connects these deities from Egypt to Greece, Etruria, and Rome. There is a familial association between Egyptian Thoth, Etruscan Turms, Greek Hermes, and Roman Mercury, just as there is a connection between Egyptian Hathor, Etruscan Turan, Greek Aphrodite, and Roman Venus. That said, the Greek and Roman gods are not identical. As with any family, each individual has a unique character, and it is prudent for the theurgist to consider them as separate but related deities with their own names, rites, and home pantheon.

Rome famously had seven hills, and there were temples to the gods on many of them. There were as many as four hundred temples throughout the ancient city. Auguries designated specific locations as suitable for divine presence. Within these rectangular precincts, called templum, spaces could be made sacred for specific deities. An area dedicated to a deity might have just an altar, or could have a statue of the deity as well. Different kinds of altars were used for animal sacrifices, libations, and incense offerings.

Priests and priestesses, called sacerdotes, performed the sacra or rites, serving the needs of the gods and their worshippers. In official state religion they were organized into groups, collegia, each governed by a pontifex. The pontifices in turn were governed by the Pontifex Maximus who set the liturgical calendar, governed the festivals, and ensured the religious leaders had been properly elected.

Politicians might add a part-time priestly office as part of their duties. These offices were usually held for a lifetime. Priests could be dedicated to a single deity or many. Some priests interpreted omens or sought to understand the future, some prepared sacred feasts, many conducted the rites particular to the deity. While most sacerdotes were men, the priestesses of Vesta served for life, and famously were killed if found to have engaged in sexual activity.

In addition to the official religion, private collegia formed around the worship of new and imported deities. The worship of Egyptian Isis rooted in women of the merchant classes, and numerous altars and temples were built for her, including one on the Capitoline hill itself. Foreign priests and magicians offered their services to Roman citizens.

SPIRIT GUIDES

“This is silly,” Plotinus protested. “Amelius, I take it back. Let’s go home.”

Amelius slid an arm around his back. “You’re just tired,” he said. “Hostilius, take his other arm.”

“I don’t know why I let you and your son talk me into this,” Plotinus grumbled, while the boy came up to support him. “And I don’t know why the temple of Isis has so many steps.”

“It’s not every day we get an Egyptian sorcerer in town,” Amelius said, grunting as Plotinus took another step. “He can conjure your guardian spirit. You can find out his name and how to command him.”

“My guardian spirit should rather command me,” Plotinus said. “Say again why we can’t do this at home?”

Amelius said patiently, “The sorcerer says this temple is the only place in Rome pure enough to perform the rite.”

Finally they reached the courtyard. The doors to the inner sanctuary were closed, but Plotinus could feel the holy radiance of Isis spilling out and filling the space. Two servant boys knelt on the tiles holding torches, while the sorcerer’s young assistant held a pigeon in his hands. The sorcerer himself threw incense on a brazier. “Mighty Plotinus!” he said, darting forward to take the teacher’s hand. “Thank you for coming. I’m eager to display my powers for you.”

The sorcerer brought up a stool, and Amelius and Hostilius helped the teacher to sit. Plotinus said, “What do I need to do?”

“Think on your guardian spirit,” the sorcerer said. “I will call him.” He lifted his arms and began to proclaim in a barbarous tongue, making hissing and spitting sounds, then emitting a long eerie wailing of vowels.

In the courtyard before him a figure congealed in the incense. The sorcerer’s voice rose, and the figure grew and became more solid. Hostilius elbowed his father. “Look!”

The sorcerer broke off and staggered back, throwing up his arm to shield his face. “This is no ordinary spirit. This is a god! Quick, ask him your questions, I cannot hold him!”

There was a hideous squawk. Plotinus glanced at the assistant and saw that the wild-eyed boy had strangled the pigeon and held it lifeless with his hands. The figure in the incense vanished. The sorcerer hissed, “Clumsy boy!”

Plotinus levered himself to his feet. “Terrified or jealous,” he observed. “Calm your mind, child, and it will calm your spirit.” He pulled coins from his money pouch and pressed them into the sorcerer’s hands. “You have shown me a wonder today.” He said thoughtfully, “It seems there is more than one kind of guardian spirit. I must write on this.”

Hostilius said hoarsely, “Teacher, your guardian spirit is a god! You are exalted among men!”

Plotinus eyed the entrance. “This exalted teacher still has to get back down all those stairs.”

Roman Spirits

The Roman house revolved around the paterfamilias, the father of the family. Among his duties the head of household ensured that the spirits of the house were properly honored. These included the family Lar or Lares, the spirits of the land on which the house was built and which remained with the house; the Penates, household deities who moved with the family; and Vesta, the goddess of the hearth. Each family also honored other deities who had been or were hoped to be helpful to the family’s fortunes. Little cupboard house shrines might contain statues of Lares holding cornucopias, horns of plenty, and patera, offering plates; Fortuna figurines steering a rudder; or a figure of a Lares with a snake representing the genius of the paterfamilias.

Offerings of food, libations, and incense were made to the Lares, Penates, and Vesta, the other household deities, and to the genius of the paterfamilias that guided the man and by extension his whole family. These offerings could be made by anyone in the house, including the wife and daughter of the paterfamilias. As an example, Plautus begins his play “Aulularia” or “Pot of Gold” with a speech by the household Lar. A man of the house buried a pot of gold in the hearth and entrusted the Lar with its care. A succession of men in the family did not honor the Lar, and so the spirit hid the secret of the gold, until a daughter came who brought daily offerings to the household god. The Lar then revealed the gold to provide the daughter a dowry, kicking off a series of comic episodes until the young woman was safely married to a young man in the end.

Eventually the genius came to be the guardian spirit of every man, not just the head of the household; the juno was the corresponding guardian spirit of each woman. The genius or juno was the faithful companion, one for every person, providing helpful guidance throughout life. This conception reminds us of the daimonion of Socrates, and in later magical papyri we find instructions for summoning one’s own daimon.

The genius/juno survived the death of the individual and could be made offerings after death. However, the genius or juno was not all of the person that survived death. The early Etruscan and Roman conception of the collective dead, di manes, developed into recognition of the individual dead, the manes with a name and personality. The dead could be either cremated or buried, but in both cases were placed in an underground tomb outside the city walls where the spirit could live. Etruscans and Romans decorated these tombs much like Egyptian tombs. They provided rooms and furniture for the use of the spirit, and painted the walls with toiletries and food for the use of the inhabitants. Some tombs had pipes into which food offerings could be dropped to penetrate into the house of the dead. Tomb paintings depict elaborate feasts in which the dead were given a share of the food. These food offerings imparted continuing life to the spirit of the deceased.

In this conception, the dead had returned to the friendly embrace of Mother Earth. The Homeric vision of the underworld also entered into Roman literature, and all the Greek and Hellenistic philosophical conceptions of the soul, from Aristotle’s arid skepticism to Plato’s confusing profusion of metaphors, became available to the educated Roman worldview.

AN UNEXPECTED VISIT

The servant threw the door open and gasped. “Plotinus!” he said. “My master did not tell me to expect you.”

“He does not expect me,” Plotinus said. “Will you take me to him?”

The servant led Plotinus to the study where Porphyry sat contemplating a row of bottles. The man sprang to his feet as if he had been caught. “Teacher!” he said guiltily. “Please, sit! Why have you come to see me?” A terrible thought struck him. “Is something wrong with Marcella? Or her children?”

“They are well,” Plotinus said. “I came to save you. I see I am just in time.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Porphyry huffed.

Plotinus pointed to the bottles. “You were choosing which poison to take to end your life.”

Porphyry sat down again hard. “I have reasoned that it is the only course left to me,” he said stiffly.

Plotinus laid a hand on his shoulder. “Your mind is too good for that,” he said gently. “I have trusted you with my innermost teachings, with my manuscripts, in fact with my entire life’s work. I’m not ready to lose you now. It isn’t reason guiding you, it’s just melancholy.”

Sighing, Porphyry said, “You may be right. But what can I do about it?”

“Leave Rome. Go to the countryside. It will revive your spirit.”

Porphyry objected, “I don’t want to leave you, teacher.”

“I would rather see you leave Rome to save your health than leave your life because you can’t stand Rome,” Plotinus said reasonably.

Porphyry pressed Plotinus’s hand to his forehead. “Wise teacher. As you command,” he said.

Plotinian Cosmology

Plotinus is at the wellhead of Neo-Platonic cosmology. In Heart of Plotinus, Algis Uždavinys extensively analyzes the ways in which Plotinus draws together Heliopolitan cosmology, the worldview of the Upanishads, and Plato’s conception of the good and the gods. In particular, Uždavinys says, Plotinus elevated Hellenic philosophy by relating metaphysical concepts to states of consciousness. This reminds us of the Hermetic Emerald Tablet that states: “as above, so below.” The cosmos is reflected in the person, and the person is a fractal iteration of the cosmos.

For Plotinus the Intellect proceeds from the One like the scarab emerges from the waters of Nun. Once it has emerged, the Intellect contemplates its source, the One. The One is beyond any form. Intellect cannot grasp the entirety of the One. From the Intellect’s fragmented vision comes a multiplicity of forms or intelligible beings, including the human soul. The soul’s purpose is to make a journey back to the source, the One.

THE FINAL UNION

Porphyry knocked on the door, his hand trembling. The slave who answered recognized him and led him to Plotinus’s study. It wasn’t Plotinus who sat in the chair. “Eustochius,” Porphyry said.

The man’s face lit with pleasure. “Porphyry,” he said, rising to clasp hands with his friend. “It’s so good to see you. How are you? How is your new wife?”

“Marcella is well. The children too,” he said. “They’re all a great comfort to me. Do you see the others often?” He settled himself on one of the stools in the room.

Eustochius sat back down at the desk, shaking his head. “The school disbanded after the master died. I’m just taking care of his accounts.”

“It’s still hard to believe he’s not here.” Porphyry expected to see the old man walk through the door at any minute.

“You would believe it if you had seen him,” Eustochius said. When Porphyry flinched, he said quickly, “He told me he had sent you away. He faded too fast for you to reach him in time.”

Taking the stool the slave offered, Porphyry said, “It’s so hard to believe. He seemed well when I left him.”

“He hid it well,” Eustochius said. “You know he was accustomed to taking a massage instead of a bath. After the plague carried off all his masseurs he had no more baths at all.”

“No bath?” Porphyry said. “He must have—” He stopped.

“Oh, he smelled,” Eustochius said, smiling wryly. “No one would come near him. I myself took him out to the country, to an estate one of his people had left him. It provided for him quite well. At any rate, it quickly became apparent that he was ill. The doctors said diphtheria.”

Porphyry cleared his throat. “Did he suffer?”

“You wouldn’t have recognized him, Porphyry,” Eustochius said quietly. “He was hoarse, he could barely see, he had ulcers on his hands and feet. But the whole time he continued in contemplation. Things of the body never mattered to him.”

“No, they didn’t,” Porphyry said, eyes misting. “How did he die?”

“I’d been out visiting.” Eustochius paused. “I couldn’t—you know … ”

Porphyry said softly, “You have to take time for yourself.” He was grateful that Eustochius had taken such gentle care of an old and ill man.

Eustochius took up his story. “I came in later than I intended. Immediately I heard his voice calling for me. Here’s what he said.” Eustochius collected himself, and then recited the words, as if he had repeated them to himself to memorize them. “I have been a long time waiting for you; I am striving to give back the Divine in myself to the Divine in the All.”

Porphyry paused, as if memorizing the words himself. “And then he died?”

“And then,” Eustochius said, “a snake came out from under his bed and slithered into a hole in the wall, and his spirit followed with it.”

The two men sat in silence for a moment.

Eustochius collected himself. “At any rate I’m happy to do whatever I can to help you in your work. I know you’re collecting stories for his biography. Oh, and here,” he rummaged around on the desk and pulled up a papyrus scroll. “Here it is, the one you asked for. Against the Gnostics.”

Porphyry took the scroll. “I think I have them all now. Even the secret ones.”

“All fifty-four!” Eustochius said. “Well done.”

As Porphyry turned to go, Eustochius said, “You heard about Amelius?” When Plotinus shook his head, he went on, “He sent to the oracle of Apollo to come to terms with the death of our teacher.”

“What did the oracle say?”

“He said quite a lot. You should get it from Amelius. I remember he said, ’O Blessed One, you have fought your many fights; now, crowned with unfading life, your days are with the Ever-Holy.’” Eustochius smiled. “It comforts me.”

For the first time Porphyry felt the fist of grief in his stomach loosen. “Thank you. It comforts me too.”

Porphyry and Plotinus

Plotinus’s student Porphyry arranged and edited six of his lectures into a form which is now called The Enneads. Stephen MacKenna’s 1935 translation is available online through MIT. Algis Uždavinys provides a readable overview of the work in his introduction to The Heart of Plotinus.

Porphyry was a prolific biographer. His surviving works include Life of Plotinus, MacKenna’s translation available online, and Life of Pythagoras, Guthrie’s translation available online. His essay “On Abstinence from Eating Food from Animals,” available in English in Thomas Taylor’s 1823 edition, is cited today by animal rights activists. Uždavinys includes a translation of the “Cave of Nymphs” in The Heart of Plotinus.

Porphyry’s letter to his wife and fellow student, Marcella, is one of the most touching Neo-Platonic texts. Alice Zimmern’s translation is available online. Porphyry tells her that he is marrying her despite the many who spoke against it. He doesn’t mind that she has so many children, ranging from quite young to nearly marriageable, even though he will be taking on the upkeep of a large family. He isn’t looking for a nurse, in fact she is frail herself, and he isn’t looking for a housekeeper. He is marrying her because she is a philosopher. He loves her for her mind and spirit. We can’t help but think it must have been a fine marriage.

THE LESSONS OF PLOTINUS

Ammonius, Plotinus, and Porphyry rebooted Platonic philosophy. In the “Golden Chain” linking Plato to his successors, there’s a big jump from Aristotle to Ammonius. From this we learn that Neo-Platonism is a literate tradition and it is always possible to pick up the writings left behind by the teachers and begin anew.

This new beginning rooted in a world in which many religions coexisted. Kemetic/Egyptian, Greek, Roman, Celtic, and Norse peoples each approached the gods in their own way. As Christianity spread and began to oppose each of these religious folkways in their own regions, the idea that they could be lumped together as “Pagan” emerged. Neo-Platonic philosophers were committed to the ways of the gods and fought the Christian attempts to halt their worship. Plotinus wrote against the Christians, and Porphyry remained bitterly opposed to Christianity throughout his life. The early Neo-Platonists were militantly Pagan.

While we draw a line between religion, philosophy, and magic today, Plotinus himself called on the services of a magician to understand his spirit guide, later writing a treatise on spirit guides. He did not hesitate to witness magic and learn from it.

Notes on the Story

Porphyry wrote the biography of his teacher, “On the Life of Plotinus and the Arrangement of His Work,” available in MacKenna’s translation of The Enneads.

We might be tempted to think that Porphyry was embellishing on Plotinus’s last words, but the death scene rings true to me. I’ve seen the breath leave a body, and I can imagine that a snake leaving the room would resonate with that moment, particularly since the snake was so tied to the idea of the father of the family. Tibetan Buddhist monks prepare death meditations and enter into them consciously at the moment of death, and that seems to be exactly what Plotinus was doing.

Porphyry tells us that Plotinus, like Plato, taught several women in his circle, including Gemina and her daughter also called Gemina, and Amphiclea. He built a significant following in Rome and ended up caring for the orphans of his students.