Medics and sorcery are often perceived as two separate entities, each with their own unique set of skills and abilities. However, upon closer examination, it becomes clear that there is a certain divine connection between the two. For centuries, healers and physicians have relied on their knowledge of medicine and the human body to cure ailments and provide relief to those in need. Their work is grounded in science and empirical evidence, using a variety of techniques such as surgery, medication, and therapy to promote healing. These medical professionals are highly regarded for their ability to understand and treat complex medical conditions, often performing miracles in the eyes of those they help. On the other hand, sorcery has often been associated with the realm of the supernatural and the mystical.
Nehalennia was a Celtic goddess of seafarers, fertility, and abundance.
It d be impossible to cover every single Celtic god and goddess in one short article, but there are some characters who appear over and over again in Irish mythology. Of these gods they held almost the same opinions as other peoples did Apollo drives away diseases, Minerva promotes handicrafts, Jupiter rules the heavens, and Mars controls wars.
On the other hand, sorcery has often been associated with the realm of the supernatural and the mystical. Sorcerers possess the ability to harness and manipulate the forces of nature, channeling energy and casting spells to achieve their desired outcome. Their skills are often shrouded in secrecy, with many relying on ancient rituals and esoteric knowledge to tap into their sorcerous powers.
The Celtic gods
The locus classicus for the Celtic gods of Gaul is the passage in Caesar’s Commentarii de bello Gallico (52–51 bc ; The Gallic War) in which he names five of them together with their functions. Mercury was the most honoured of all the gods and many images of him were to be found. Mercury was regarded as the inventor of all the arts, the patron of travelers and of merchants, and the most powerful god in matters of commerce and gain. After him the Gauls honoured Apollo, Mars, Jupiter, and Minerva. Of these gods they held almost the same opinions as other peoples did: Apollo drives away diseases, Minerva promotes handicrafts, Jupiter rules the heavens, and Mars controls wars.
In characteristic Roman fashion, however, Caesar does not refer to these figures by their native names but by the names of the Roman gods with which he equated them, a procedure that greatly complicates the task of identifying his Gaulish deities with their counterparts in the insular literatures. He also presents a neat schematic equation of god and function that is quite foreign to the vernacular literary testimony. Yet, given its limitations, his brief catalog is a valuable and essentially accurate witness. In comparing his account with the vernacular literatures, or even with the continental iconography, it is well to recall their disparate contexts and motivations. As has been noted, Caesar’s commentary and the iconography refer to quite different stages in the history of Gaulish religion; the iconography of the Roman period belongs to an environment of profound cultural and political change, and the religion it represents may in fact have been less clearly structured than that maintained by the druids (the priestly order) in the time of Gaulish independence. On the other hand, the lack of structure is sometimes more apparent than real. It has, for instance, been noted that of the several hundred names containing a Celtic element attested in Gaul the majority occur only once, which has led some scholars to conclude that the Celtic gods and their cults were local and tribal rather than national. Supporters of this view cite Lucan’s mention of a god Teutates, which they interpret as “god of the tribe” (it is thought that teutā meant “tribe” in Celtic). The seeming multiplicity of deity names may, however, be explained otherwise—for example, many are simply epithets applied to major deities by widely extended cults. The notion of the Celtic pantheon as merely a proliferation of local gods is contradicted by the several well-attested deities whose cults were observed virtually throughout the areas of Celtic settlement.
According to Caesar the god most honoured by the Gauls was “Mercury,” and this is confirmed by numerous images and inscriptions. His Celtic name is not explicitly stated, but it is clearly implied in the place-name Lugudunon (“the fort or dwelling of the god Lugus”) by which his numerous cult centres were known and from which the modern Lyon, Laon, and Loudun in France, Leiden in the Netherlands, and Legnica in Poland derive. The Irish and Welsh cognates of Lugus are Lugh and Lleu, respectively, and the traditions concerning these figures mesh neatly with those of the Gaulish god. Caesar’s description of the latter as “the inventor of all the arts” might almost have been a paraphrase of Lugh’s conventional epithet sam ildánach (“possessed of many talents”). An episode in the Irish tale of the Battle of Magh Tuiredh is a dramatic exposition of Lugh’s claim to be master of all the arts and crafts, and dedicatory inscriptions in Spain and Switzerland, one of them from a guild of shoemakers, commemorate Lugus, or Lugoves, the plural perhaps referring to the god conceived in triple form. An episode in the Middle Welsh collection of tales called the Mabinogion, (or Mabinogi), seems to echo the connection with shoemaking, for it represents Lleu as working briefly as a skilled exponent of the craft. In Ireland Lugh was the youthful victor over the demonic Balar “of the venomous eye.” He was the divine exemplar of sacral kingship, and his other common epithet, lámhfhada (“of the long arm”), perpetuates an old Indo-European metaphor for a great king extending his rule and sovereignty far afield. His proper festival, called Lughnasadh (“Festival of Lugh”) in Ireland, was celebrated—and still is at several locations—in August; at least two of the early festival sites, Carmun and Tailtiu, were the reputed burial places of goddesses associated with the fertility of the earth (as was, evidently, the consort Maia—or Rosmerta [“the Provider”]—who accompanies “Mercury” on many Gaulish monuments).
The Gaulish god “ Mars” illustrates vividly the difficulty of equating individual Roman and Celtic deities. A famous passage in Lucan’s Bellum civile mentions the bloody sacrifices offered to the three Celtic gods Teutates, Esus, and Taranis; of two later commentators on Lucan’s text, one identifies Teutates with Mercury, the other with Mars. The probable explanation of this apparent confusion, which is paralleled elsewhere, is that the Celtic gods are not rigidly compartmentalized in terms of function. Thus “Mercury” as the god of sovereignty may function as a warrior, while “Mars” may function as protector of the tribe, so that either one may plausibly be equated with Teutates.
The problem of identification is still more pronounced in the case of the Gaulish “ Apollo,” for some of his 15 or more epithets may refer to separate deities. The solar connotations of Belenus (from Celtic: bel, “shining” or “brilliant”) would have supported the identification with the Greco-Roman Apollo. Several of his epithets, such as Grannus and Borvo (which are associated etymologically with the notions of “boiling” and “heat,” respectively), connect him with healing and especially with the therapeutic powers of thermal and other springs, an area of religious belief that retained much of its ancient vigour in Celtic lands throughout the Middle Ages and even to the present time. Maponos (“Divine Son” or “Divine Youth”) is attested in Gaul but occurs mainly in northern Britain. He appears in medieval Welsh literature as Mabon, son of Modron (that is, of Matrona, “Divine Mother”), and he evidently figured in a myth of the infant god carried off from his mother when three nights old. His name survives in Arthurian romance under the forms Mabon, Mabuz, and Mabonagrain. His Irish equivalent was Mac ind Óg (“Young Son” or “Young Lad”), known also as Oenghus, who dwelt in Bruigh na Bóinne, the great Neolithic, and therefore pre-Celtic, passage grave of Newgrange (or Newgrange House). He was the son of Dagda (or Daghda), chief god of the Irish, and of Boann, the personified sacred river of Irish tradition. In the literature the Divine Son tends to figure in the role of trickster and lover.
There are dedications to “ Minerva” in Britain and throughout the Celtic areas of the Continent. At Bath she was identified with the goddess Sulis, whose cult there centred on the thermal springs. Through the plural form Suleviae, found at Bath and elsewhere, she is also related to the numerous and important mother goddesses—who often occur in duplicate or, more commonly, triadic form. Her nearest equivalent in insular tradition is the Irish goddess Brighid, daughter of the chief god, Dagda. Like Minerva she was concerned with healing and craftsmanship, but she was also the patron of poetry and traditional learning. Her name is cognate with that of Brigantī, Latin Brigantia, tutelary goddess of the Brigantes of Britain, and there is some onomastic evidence that her cult was known on the Continent, whence the Brigantes had migrated.
The Gaulish Sucellos (or Sucellus), possibly meaning “the Good Striker,” appears on a number of reliefs and statuettes with a mallet as his attribute. He has been equated with the Irish Dagda, “the Good God,” also called Eochaidh Ollathair (“Eochaidh the Great Father”), whose attributes are his club and his caldron of plenty. But, whereas Ireland had its god of the sea, Manannán mac Lir (“Manannán, son of the Ocean”), and a more shadowy predecessor called Tethra, there is no clear evidence for a Gaulish sea-god, perhaps because the original central European homeland of the Celts had been landlocked.
The insular literatures show that certain deities were associated with particular crafts. Caesar makes no mention of a Gaulish Vulcan, though insular sources reveal that there was one and that he enjoyed high status. His name in Irish, Goibhniu, and Welsh, Gofannon, derived from the Celtic word for smith. The weapons that Goibhniu forged with his fellow craft gods, the wright Luchta and the metalworker Creidhne, were unerringly accurate and lethal. He was also known for his power of healing, and as Gobbán the Wright, a popular or hypocoristic form of his name, he was renowned as a wondrous builder. Medieval Welsh also mentions Amaethon, evidently a god of agriculture, of whom little is known.
At first glance, it may seem that medical professionals and sorcerers operate in completely different domains. However, when we delve deeper into the nature of their abilities, a fascinating connection begins to emerge. Both medics and sorcerers possess an innate understanding of the human body, albeit from different perspectives. Medics, through their rigorous study and practical experience, have unraveled many of the mysteries of the human body. They have acquired knowledge of the intricate workings of organs, systems, and biochemical processes that drive life itself. This deep understanding allows them to diagnose diseases, develop treatment plans, and administer care that can restore health and well-being. In a sense, their proficiency in medicine grants them a certain kind of mastery over the human body, giving them a godlike power to heal. Similarly, sorcerers possess a unique insight into the human body, but from a metaphysical standpoint. They understand that the human body is not just a physical entity but also an energetic one, intricately connected to the larger cosmic energy that permeates the universe. Through their practice of sorcery, they tap into this cosmic energy, manipulating it to bring about changes in their own bodies and those of others. This ability to harness and control the underlying energy of life is what gives sorcerers a divine-like power over healing and other mystical endeavors. In essence, the medic and the sorcerer are two sides of the same coin. Both embody a deep understanding of the human body, whether through empirical knowledge or metaphysical insight. Both possess skills and abilities that can be considered divine in their own right. The medic, armed with the power of medical science, brings healing through tangible means, while the sorcerer, with their mystical aptitude, taps into the cosmic energy to achieve miraculous outcomes. In the grand tapestry of existence, medics and sorcerers are but two facets of the same divine essence – the human capacity for understanding, healing, and transformation. Whether through the empirical approach of medicine or the metaphysical exploration of sorcery, both seek to bring about positive change and improve the lives of those around them..
Reviews for "The Sacred Connection: Medicine, Divinity, and Sorcery"
1. Jane - 2/5 stars - I found "Medic odd divinity of sorcery" to be quite disappointing. The plot was confusing and disjointed, with too many subplots that didn't contribute to the main story. The characters were shallow and lacked depth, making it difficult to connect with them. Additionally, the writing style was confusing and convoluted, making it hard to follow the story. Overall, I wouldn't recommend this book to others.
2. Michael - 1/5 stars - I couldn't even finish reading "Medic odd divinity of sorcery." The author seemed to be trying too hard to be unique and ended up creating a confusing mess. The world-building was inconsistent and poorly explained, causing a lot of confusion as a reader. The dialogues were also poorly written, with unrealistic and stilted conversations between the characters. I found it hard to engage with the story, and in the end, it just became a frustrating experience. I would not recommend this book to anyone.
3. Emily - 2/5 stars - I had high hopes for "Medic odd divinity of sorcery", but unfortunately, it fell short of my expectations. The pacing was incredibly slow, with far too much unnecessary detail. The author went off on multiple tangents that didn't add anything to the main story, making it difficult to stay engaged. Moreover, the characters lacked depth and development, making it hard to care about their struggles. Overall, I found the book to be a tedious and unfulfilling read.