(This is the second part of my post on the lore. Most of this information has appeared here before, but I have re-written and expanded the post to make it more comprehensive. Unfortunately, Blogger did not seem to like it’s length and as I moved chunks of text around, it froze up repeatedly. I was finally able to complete it but will apologize here for any errors, typos, inconsistent capitalizations still remaining – Hrafnkell)

Heathen Epistemology: How Do We Know What We Know?

I was always fascinated while in college (and after) with the question of epistemology, in other words, “How do we know what we know?” It’s a real poser. We can argue that I know because I see it, because my five senses tell me, but we also know our five senses can deceive us. Christians will fall away from evidential forms of knowledge and claim that they know because they know, which is not helpful at all to people who live in the real world. Then of course, there is personal gnosis of a New Age kind, where we just wing it and damn the details.

There are also those, of course, who claim we can never really know anything. If those people want to live in such a world, I invite them to do so, but such a world is not for me. And not on the grounds of ideology but on the grounds of common sense. This was a question asked long ago, and as far as I’m concerned, René Descartes did a brilliant job of answering it, as did Immanuel Kant. Our senses are a filter by which we interact with the world around us. That world – the “really real” if you will, can perhaps never been seen by us for what it is, but it is there, and we can form a consensus about its nature and about what we are seeing and interacting with. Our filters may not all agree, but they are close enough.

As for the record of the past, we have piles of documentary evidence from many periods of history. These include not only histories and biographies written by the ancients, but copies of official records, not only contained in the above-mentioned works but recovered by archaeologists. We have can “prove” the truth of what these ancient authors say, not only through the epigraphical evidence but through archaeological findings, such as the detritus of ancient battlefields. For more recent periods, we have more documentary evidence. We can know, to a degree of certainty, what has transpired in the past. But we cannot know everything, and of some things we know more than others. Heathen religion is, thanks to its ruthless suppression by the church, one of the biggest holes in our knowledge of the ancient religious landscape.

Heathen scholarship in particular is in a deplorable state, if, indeed, such a thing can be said to exist at all. American heathens are particularly prone to fall victim to the result of this lack, whose sequela is ignorance. As noted above, the sagas and Eddas form the basis of understanding for what ancient heathenism was about. Sadly, since few English speakers can read these ON texts, they are left completely ignorant as to their content or hostages to second-rate or outdated translations. Think about basing all your beliefs on a Bible written in Latin while being entirely unable to read Latin. This was one of the things the Protestant Reformation was about, the right of Christians to read the Bible for themselves and not be dependent upon the Church, which had already proven itself corrupt and often self serving.

Today’s Heathens find themselves in a pre-Reformation world. They cannot read, much less understand, the very texts upon which they are so reliant for their beliefs. Most public domain translations date from a hundred years or so ago, during the Romantic period of scholarship. Not only are the translations lacking in understanding of the language being used, but they are hopelessly cluttered with Romantic and unscholarly assumptions. The works of Viktor Rydberg, a Swedish author of the late 19th century are a case in point. The works in question here are Rydberg’s books on Norse mythology: Our Fathers’ Godsaga and Investigations into Germanic Mythology. The works of Rydberg have been hotly debated in American Heathen circles. He is one of those authors who will ignore the evidence provided by Snorri if it does not fit his preconceived notions, and yet, Rydberg has die-hard defenders in the heathen community.

An example of the language problem is the recent publication of the Poetic Edda as translated by Carolyne Larrington (Oxford University Press, 1996). A quick perusal of American Ásatrú sites will show that this work receives high marks from American Heathens. But on what basis? The fact is that these same American Heathens do not, for the most part, read ON. This alone should make such assertions somewhat suspect. Where does the source of this confidence arise? It seems that someone, somewhere, heaped praise on this work, for whatever reasons, and the others immediately aped what was said before, a sad facet of scholarship through the ages. In fact, Larrington’s translation is flawed, as noted by a review which appeared in the Saga-Book by Edward Pettit and John Porter, who concluded:

It is regrettable that Oxford University Press should lend its name to a work of such deficient scholarship, still more regrettable that as a result many new readers will place their trust in its accuracy.[1]

A few examples of Ms. Larrington’s errors will suffice to show that this much touted work is of little more value than previous translations (note that these follow Pettit & Porter):

Völuspá 2:1-4

Ek man jötna

I, born of giants,

Ár UM BORNA

remember very early

þá er FORÐUM mik

those who nurtured

fædda höfðu.

me then

The literal meaning of this verse is “I remember early-born giants, those who long ago reared me” and as can be seen, Larrington misses this by a long-shot. Dronke renders it thus: “I remember giants born early in time, who long ago reared me.”

Völuspá 5:5-8

Sól þat né vissi

Sun did not know

hvar hón SALI átti,

where her hall might be,

stjörnur þat né vissu

the stars did not know

hvar þær STAÐI áttu

where their place might be

In this passage, Larrington confuses singulars and plurals. It should be “halls” and “places.” Dronke’s version has “mansions” and “stations.”

Völuspá 7:3-4

Þeir er HÖRG ok HOF

They built altars

hátimbruðu

and high temples

Altars should be singular, not plural (an error repeated by Dronke). “Temples” can be either singular or plural, but it would make more sense here as singular. The gods built one altar and one temple, the prototypes of all other altars and temples. “High” belongs with both nouns, as Dronke shows: “towering altars and temples.”[2]

These are just a few examples out of many. And of course, to be fair, this charge is watered down somewhat by the inescapable fact that any translation of ON literature, particularly poetry, will be imperfect. This problem was, in fact, noted by one of the better known translators of the Poetic Edda, Lee M. Hollander, and has been duly noted by others as well.[3] As pointed out by Pettit, “Hollander set himself the impossible task of imitating Norse metres in English. The result often has an archaizing charm, but is far from an accurate reflection of the sense of the original.”[4]

For heathens, the problem cited by Messrs. Pettit and Porter are magnified. While a general reader might walk away with the wrong idea and then go about his merry way unharmed and unaffected, a heathen who is dependent upon the Poetic Edda for what he believes, the result is catastrophic. American heathens are very fond of quoting their favorite stanzas from the Hávamál (Sayings of the High One) and the simple fact is, most of them, relying on these questionable translations, have them wrong. One of my favorite stanzas provides an excellent example of this problem.

W.H. Taylor and P.B. Auden translated the stanza as follows:

For these things give thanks at nightfall:
The day gone, a guttered torch,
A sword tested, the troth of a maid,
Ice crossed, ale drunk.[5]

This paints a rather idyllic picture, a peaceful, countrified expression of contentment. But a more accurate translation gives another impression entirely:

At eve praise the day,
a woman when burned,
a wife when wedded,
a weapon when tried,
ice when over it,
ale when ’tis drunk[6]

Now whether you prefer to think of the woman burned in a good-riddance way or simply as an expression that a person should be praised only after death when their worth can best be measured, it is still quite different from “a guttered torch” which nowhere appears in the ON. Unfortunately, Auden & Taylor are public domain and widely available on the internet and most people do not have access to a knowledgeable speaker of ON so it is easy to see how these mistranslations can become problematic. As Edward Pettit concludes:

To my knowledge, none of the published English translations of the Elder Edda is at once accurate, complete and pleasing to the ear. Nor is there a full edition with English notes. When finished, Ursula Dronke’s five-volume edition and translation will be of enormous value (only two volumes have appeared so far). But its price, size and erudition put it beyond the reach of many readers, and it does not present the poems in the sequence found in the Codex Regius. Andy Orchard’s translation has yet to appear, and John Porter and I expressed our disappointment with Carolyne Larrington’s version for the Oxford World’s Classics series in a review in Saga-Book 25 (1998), pp. 92-5. The other full translations are, to my mind, too inaccurate to be acceptable, even though their sound often appeals [7]

There are other examples of translation woes. Ægir is one. It matters greatly to a heathen (if not a casual reader) whether Ægir should be considered a god or a giant. It is no small problem then, when a translation like Hollander’s calls Ægir a “sea-god” (when the original has “cliff-dweller”, as obvious a giant-kenning as ever was), or when Hollander uses the term “Mithgarth-worm” in Völuspá and Hymiskviða because the term never occurs in Eddaic poetry, only in the Prose Edda).[8]

Another is this passage in the Prose Edda:

Njördr has to wife the woman called Skadi, daughter of Thjazi
the giant. Skadi would fain dwell in the abode which her father
had had, which is on certain mountains, in the place called
Thrymheimr; but Njördr would be near the sea. They made a compact
on these terms: they should be nine nights in Thrymheimr, but the
second nine at Nóatún.[9]

This looks fine to English speakers. Doubtless we have all believed it. And why not? We should have faith in the erudition of our translators, should we not? But it’s not right. In no extant version of the Prose Edda does this nine vs. nine appear. Here are the four versions (note that R is the usual basis for translations):

R: “Þau sættusk á þat, at þau skyldu vera níu vetr í Þrumheimi,
en þá aðra níu at Nóatúnum (they agreed that they should spend
nine WINTERS in Þrumheimr, and then another NINE in Nóatún).”

T: “Þau sættusk á þat, at þau skyldu vera níu nætr í Þrymheimi,
en þá aðrar þrjár í Nóatúnum (they agreed that they should spend
nine NIGHTS in Þrymheimr, and then another THREE in Nóatún).”

W: “Þau sættusk á þat, at þau skyldu vera níu nætr í Þrymheimi,
en þá þrjár at Nóatúnum (they agreed that they should spend
nine NIGHTS in Þrymheimr, and then THREE in Nóatún).”

U: “Þau sættask á þat, at þau skulu vera níu nætr í Þrúðheimi,
en þá þrjár í Nóatúnum (they agree that they shall spend
nine NIGHTS in Þrúðheimr, and then THREE in Nóatún).”

As can be seen, the commonly accepted text is nowhere to be found in the Old Norse texts which remain to us (and of which the above purports to be a translation). R does have the nine/nine formula but it speaks of “winters” and not of “nights.” This itself presents another problem: If we are to decide that “nights” was meant and not “winters” how do we argue away the fact that three out of the four versions give us the formula nine/three?

Clearly the situation is not nearly as resolved as Thorsson and others would have us think. In the next section, we will see some examples of how big a barrier Old Norse can be to today’s Heathens.

The Problem of Heathens as Scholars

One of the biggest woes facing prospective Heathens and heathens alike is finding decent books by Heathen authors. As it is, almost any such book will be found in the New Age section of your local bookstore; not an auspicious start since we heathens do not see ourselves as part of the New Age movement. There are books aplenty by Wiccans about Wicca, magic and shamanism, not to mention the plethora of books by Wiccan authors who think they are writing about heathenism. They are not, of course. They simply want to incorporate Heathen things into the eclectic Wiccan worldview: Ed Fitch (Rites of Odin), D.J. Conway (Norse Magic), Freya Aswynn (Northern Mysteries and Magick), Silver Ravenwolf (Witches Runes [!}), Jason D. Cooper (Esoteric Rune Magic), et al. We would do well to ask, in the last case, what witches have to do with runes? In Norse religion, runes were never the property of witches. We might as well have "witches hieroglyphs" or "witches cuneiform" and "witches Linear B" as well.

Many Heathens are justifiably upset about the resulting insult to what for heathens are serious matters. Our traditions are sacred to us, and to see bits and pieces of them incorporated into Wicca – and that is what is happening whatever claim being made to the contrary – is frustrating. We begin to see how Native Americans feel about their spiritual heritage being played with by white New Agers who give themselves funny names they think sound “Indian.” The problem with Wicca is that it wants to incorporate the Northern Tradition as a cousin, as another way to practice a universal paganism. Celtic paganism is another victim of Wicca, and the two have become flavors of some quasi-pan-European paganism that never existed in the real world. In a way it reminds me of the GURPS system in role playing games, where you have this common rule system, and you just plug in different milieus depending on your preferences. This may be perfectly acceptable in make-believe, but it has no place in the real world.

What Wicca has done is to superimpose a false template over the world of the past, creating a point of origin that never existed (matriarchal Europe) and adding to it something born of comparative religious studies run amok. Let’s face it, if you base something on a false premise, the result is not going to be anything you can take to the bank.

Of course, a heathen might decry the insult by these authors yet still praise Edred Thorsson, despite Thorsson’s effusive praise, for instance, of Fitch’s otherwise reviled work.

There are few Heathens who are also considered scholars. Notable among them are Stephen Flowers (also known as Edred Thorsson), Kveldulf Gundarsson, Garman Lord and Eric Wódening. Wódening’s seminal work, We are Our Deeds (1997) undertakes to examine ancient Heathen concepts of good and evil, right and wrong. As a part of this discussion, the author takes on the word friðr. We will use this example as American Heathens make a great deal of use of this word.

The native word for “peace” is virtually the same in all of the early Germanic languages. In Old English it was frið (ON friðR; OHG fridu), which survived into modern English as frith. As might be expected, frith, like good, is intimately linked to the concept of the innangarðs. Frith ultimately derives from Proto-Indo-European “priyas, of one’s own (that is, one’s own family or one’s own community).” From this root also comes our words for friend (one of one’s own”) and free (of one’s own household, i.e. not one of the slaves”). Its original meaning was then perhaps “the peace enjoyed while among one’s own” or “the peace enjoyed while in the innangarðs (keeping in mind that society was considered such).” This meaning naturally led to secondary meanings of “security” and “refuge” in many of the Germanic languages…(finish citation)

To add to the confusion, Edred Thorsson asserts in his Northern Magic that frith “carries with it the implication of ‘freedom.’”[10]

Garman Lord agrees and expounds on the matter in his own rather interesting definition of “frith”:

For us, “frith” means, literally, something like “the freedom to be oneself, without having to watch one’s back.” In other words, something like community normalcy in an ambience of Right Good Will. Truth to tell, there isn’t any modern word that we know of to express the core concept of frith, which is why we stick with the old one. I think some translations have glossed it as “peace,” meaning, presumably, “pacification qua mutual non-aggression,” but in fact it isn’t really that at all. Frith, for one thing, isn’t necessarily peaceful; it doesn’t rule out or suppress all natural discords or disputes, especially the innocent kind which will still be bound to crop up out of misunderstanding or natural disagreement or difference of opinion. Rather, it means the guarantee of the timely and orderly resolution and settlement of such disputation as does crop up, in a prevailing general spirit of Right Good Will; rather a different thing.[11]

One gets the idea, with all of this, that frið is a very special word indeed, meaning something more than simply an “absence of violence,” which is the most common usage for peace.

Unfortunately for Heathens, none of this is quite true. Yes, just like the English word “peace” the word frith can have the added implication of “personal security, inviolability” but most of the time it means exactly what the English word does: an absence of violence. Let’s compare the dictionary definitions:

Friðr, m., gen. friðar, dat. Friði,: – peace, but also personal security, inviolability. [12]
Peace –

1 : a state of tranquillity or quiet: as a : freedom from civil disturbance b : a state of security or order within a community provided for by law or custom (a breach of the peace)
2 : freedom from disquieting or oppressive thoughts or emotions
3 : harmony in personal relations
4 a : a state or period of mutual concord between governments b : a pact or agreement to end hostilities between those who have been at war or in a state of enmity
5 — used interjectionally to ask for silence or calm or as a greeting or farewell[13]

The ON word for “freedom” is frelsi. While etymologically related, friðr and frelsi do not mean the same thing. Naturally, there is nothing wrong with wishing your friends an absence of violence, but the spiritual, sacred context here alluded to is mostly a phantasm. From this comparison, it is difficult to justify the claim that frith has anything to recommend it that peace does not, save for an exotic flavor, unless it is the desire to escape any Christian connotations peace has, being etymologically derived from the Latin “pax.”

I have in an earlier post discussed Eric Wódening’s analysis of the words “heill” and “heilagr”. The unfortunate thing is that these associations didn’t exist for the 9th century heathen (or 10th century Icelander) and in fact, exist only in a 21st century etymological dictionary. Nor are we told that the definitions given are only one of several possibilities in each case. They are completely irrelevant to our study of what the Heathens of old believed. One gets the impression that the conclusions have already been decided on and the definitions made in order to fit them. An example of where this madness takes us can be shown in the example below. Eric Wódening goes on to say:

With holiness and health equated in the heathen mind, it would be expected that other words touching upon the subjects of “health” and “healing” would also touch upon the concepts of holiness or good in some way. This obviously appears to be the case in the native words for “physician,” represented by the Old English læce, modern leech. Láce and related terms, such as lácnian, “to heal, to cure,” ultimately derive from *leg-(2), meaning “to collect,”with derivative meaning “to speak,”through a Proto-Germanic root *lékjaz, “enchanter, one who speaks magic words.” A læce or leech is then someone who heels through the use of luck or mægen (which can loosely be termed “magic force”) by reciting galdors. This is nearly the same as Thorsson’s interpretation of “to heal” as “to make whole, to make full of blessings.”[14]

But again, this just isn’t so. Mr. Wódening’s “obvious” example of the derivation and meaning of the word “leech” is no such thing. The origin of the root in ON læknir, OE læce is not known for certain, and there are various hypotheses to account for it. Note that he derives it from the root *leg-, which means “to collect, pick” but this is not certain, despite Mr. Wódening’s presetation. This level of uncertainty would make it just as likely that the “læknir” was an “herb-collector”, rather than “an utterer of (magical) words”. This root is the basis of the family of words containing Lat. legere (“read; collect, pick”), Gr. lego and logos. Icelandic has the verb “lesa”, which means both “read” and “pick (as in pick flowers)”. The word “antho-logy” originally means “bouquet of (picked) flowers”. We were taught, all of us, in grade school, about assumptions, how they “make an ass out of you and me.” Now we see that this is so.

An example of Wiccan appropriation of heathen custom is Ed Fitch’s Rites of Odin.

The author is at least up front about his purpose:

I have made some ritual departures from the original. Primarily, the ancient Norse religion tended to be patriarchal, with the three major gods of Odin, Thor, and Frey being most honored. The feminine aspect provides a much-needed balance to religious systems, especially so in this era, and hence the inclusion of Freya in lieu of her brother…I have chosen in these rites to view Freya more in the three full meanings of Maiden, Mother, and Crone.[15]

One is left to wonder why any modification is necessary at all. Was the original Germanic heathen system somehow deficient? Freyja does not need to be added; she is already present. And is Freyr’s presence somehow unbalancing the system? And where does the Maiden, Mother and Crone come into play? I’ve nowhere seen the tripartite goddess mentioned in the Eddas or sagas, or in any scholarly works regarding the mythology of Germanic Heathenism. When you see the words “I have taken some ritual departures from the original” warning lights should go off which tell you that what follows has nothing to do with any genuine recreation of ancient Heathenism.

Yet Edred Thorsson (aka Stephen Flowers) tells us in his forward to Mr. Fitch’s book that “The Rites of Odin is an important new contribution in the latest phase of the long-standing Teutonic rebirth.” Rebirth of what, you might ask. The author has already told us that he has made changes in the original. You cannot very well give rebirth to something which never existed in the first place. Yet Thorsson is untroubled by this contradiction and goes on to say

In this synthesis, combined with the contemporary magical technology of Neo-Paganism, the Rites of Odin is a tremendous contribution toward the unfolding of a real “Norse Wicca.” Here the author begins to retrace the way back to the reconstruction of the true Vanic faith of the ancient Teutons; a faith in which the Lord (Frey) and the Lady (Freya) reign supreme.[16]

This interpretation might be a surprise to some ancient heathens. We are being told here that not only is Norse Wicca a “reconstruction” of genuine Hheathenism but also that the introduction of “magical technology” (whatever that is) does not in any way impinge on this accurate recreation of an ancient belief system. Yet this author has spoken to those who consider themselves Heathen who say their understanding of Heathenism is based upon this book. Obviously, we have a problem here.

At the end of his book, Mr. Fitch takes on Snorri Sturluson himself. He is not alone here. Others have attacked the Icelandic scholar. It is a frequent occurrence on Heathen chat lists and forums. In this instance, Mr. Fitch finds fault with Snorri’s understanding of cosmology. Keep in mind here that Snorri was writing just a couple of centuries after Heathenism was outlawed in Iceland, but a time in which much was still known of the old beliefs and customs (indeed, as we noted previously, Heathenism did not die out when Christian conversion lists claim and there might have been some actual Heathens about). Keep in mind that modern authors are writing 1000 years removed from those same events and memories. Here is what Mr. Fitch has to say:

The tree diagram is much different from the tree Yggdrasill as pictured in the Eddas. Snorri’s descriptions have been discarded (!). They elaborated upon earlier conceptions and are not relevant to the conception of polarities represented by this diagram of the World Tree. (The Prose Edda’s descriptions of the Goddess Hel, her realm, and her denizens have been discarded from this diagram. Snorri was writing under a very heavy Christian influence in picturing the Goddess and her realm as evil.)[17]

We are somehow supposed to believe that these modern authors have a better understanding of Old Norse cosmology than people who lived 700 years closer to the event. The truth is, Snorri’s description does not match the preconceived notions of the authors and therefore must be discarded. Indeed, if following the author’s logic here that Snorri’s “heavy Christian influence” makes him unreliable, it is difficult to see how any of his writings can be trusted, and as we have seen, if we discard Snorri, we do not have much at all to work with. But then again, a strong argument can be made for the case that Norse Wicca does not pay much attention to the historical sources anyway. Finally, we might do well to question Mr. Fitch’s own influences, which as we have noted, are strongly rooted in Wicca and ceremonial magic, both recent innovations.

Let us turn to another Heathen scholar, Kveldulf Gundarsson, who has a long Heathen pedigree with both the Rune Gild and the Ring of Troth. His book, Teutonic Magic is, according to the back cover “entirely factual.” Yet if we examine what Mr. Gundarsson says about “hamingja” for instance, we immediately discover some problems.

The hamingja…is your personal reserve of power, roughly analogous to the general concept of mana.

This should immediately give the reader pause. Mana, as a word, is of Polynesian etymology, meaning “the power of the elemental forces of nature embodied in an object or person.”[18] Hawaiian witchdoctors, or kahunas, work healing and magic through the use of mana. If we look to Simek we find the following entry concerning hamingja:

In Nordic heathendom, hamingja is the personification of the good fortune of a person.[19]

There are certainly similarities in the concept. For instance, a man with mana would be considered to have influence and authority. A man with hamingja found it easy to gather followers and discourage enemies. In one example, King Audbjorn of the Firthfolk tried to recruit doughty old hersir Kveldulf to his cause against Harald Finehair, only to be told:

‘It is my duty to the king to take the field with him if he have to defend his own land, and there be harrying against the Firthfolk; but this I deem clean beyond my duty, to go north to Mæra and defend their land. Briefly ye may say when ye meet your king that Kveldulf will sit at home during this rush to war, nor will he gather forces nor leave his home to fight with Harold Shockhead. For I think that he has a whole load of good-fortune where our king has not a handful.’[20]

But there the similarity ends. We have seen how mana, as an elemental force of nature, was used by kahunas in healing or magic. This is not analogous to the nature of hamingja in Old Norse literature. Also according to Polynesian belief, even places and inanimate objects could have mana, and this is also entirely outside the heathen concept of hamingja, which is not only limited to humans but can be handed down to another when you die, or even transferred, or loaned out, while you are alive. We see examples of this in Vatnsdæla Saga, 7: ‘…The boy shall be called Ingimundr after his mother’s father, and I hope for luck (hamingja) for him on account of the name’ and in Finnboga Saga, 36 where a dying man begs his son to name a child after him because ‘he said he was sure that hamingja would follow’. We see the process of this transference in Viga Glúm’s Saga, 9:

It is told that one night Glúmr had a dream. He thought he was standing outside the house, and looking towards the firth. He thought he saw a woman walking across the country, and coming towards Þverá. She was so huge that her shoulders touched the mountains on each side. He thought he went out of the homestead to meet her, and asked her to his house. And after that he awoke. All thought this dream strange, but he said ‘This is a great and remarkable dream, and I would read it thus: Vigfúss my grandfather must be dead, and the woman who was higher than the mountains as she walked must be his hamingja, for he was nearly always above other men in honour; his hamingja now must be seeking an abode where I am’ .[21]

In Gundarsson are also retained the traditional Gardnerian implements of occult magic so similar to practitioners of Wicca, the “sax” (in place of the athame), the horn or cup, the mortar and pestle and the addition of a hammer. Granted, Gundarsson is writing about Teutonic Magic, but it is difficult to find the genuine heathenism through the traditional occult trappings.[22]

The process is not made any easier in Freya Aswynn’s opus, Northern Mysteries & Magic, a re-writing of her famous (some might say infamous) Leaves of Yggdrasil. It is difficult to know where to start with this work, but it seems that by utilizing divination and psychic skills, Ms. Aswynn has managed to resurrect Heathenism from the deep dark repose of its demise and restore it to its original rightful place, which is apparently as part of the Craft. It turns out that a piece is missing from the occult currents which are allocated to one of “the four quarters or cardinal points.” We have, in the west, the Greco-Roman tradition, etc., and in the east, Buddhism and Hinduism, in the south, Toruba, Voodoo, Santeria, etc. But there is a gap in the north and Ms. Aswynn posits the “Northern Mysteries” as the missing piece. But never fear:

Aided by previous occult training and my psychic abilities, I have during the last four years endeavored to reconstruct a valid path of initiation based on Northern European mythology and the runes.[23]

Unfortunately, her psychic abilities failed to divine the meaning of hamingja, which again becomes some sort of mana-like force of nature:

Who can acquire the ability to work with the runes? Anyone with a genuine psychic gift can learn to divine up to a certain point, but to penetrate the deeper levels of rune knowledge, one has to be born into the Northern “group-soul.” The ability to work with the runes is passed on through the psychic equivalent of genetic memory, the group-soul called in our tradition, hamingja.[24]

One would be hard pressed to find evidence in the Eddas and sagas of hamingja being any kind of “group-soul” or “genetic memory.” If hamingja was such a thing, one man would hardly have had more of it than another; share and share alike would be the cry, and leaders like Harald Finehair would lose their historical advantage.

Of course, one should not get the impression that any of this is cut and dried, either now or in the past. The ancient Heathens had no need to define anything with dictionary-like precision. It is extremely unlikely that there was any uniform understanding of hamingja any more than a uniform cosmology or cosmogony, and hamingja itself has multiple meanings; in addition to “luck” or “good fortune,” it can also mean “happiness” and “benevolent guardian spirit.” In any case, the worst thing that could happen to a heathen was to lose his hamingja by having it leave you – then you were literally out of luck (ON heillum horfinn, lit. “lost to your ‘heillir’, forsaken by luck”).

The Problem of the Internet

But there are problems outside of ON translations and Heathen authors. We have misconceptions and misunderstandings born of chat room, forum and website. I shall cover here three of my favorite victims of American lack of erudition. First is the term Ásatrú itself. This word means, as we have noted above, something like “Of the ása belief.” Note that it does not exclude the Vanir as is so often argued in English-speaking circles. In these same circles, the plural is always given as Ásatrúar, but the second part of this compound word, trú, has no plural, meaning Ásatrúar is not the plural form of Ásatrú. Ásatrúar is the genitive singular of the word ásatrú and is used as an adjective and never changes – it always has the same form, however it is used. Finally, Ásatrú is a noun, and singular. Ásatrúar is not a noun (though Americans typically use it as such). Americans say things like “I am Ásatrú” but this is like saying “I am Christianity” instead of saying “I am a Christian” and nobody would say anything like that. What you would say is “I am Ásatrúar.” Here are some correct usages:

Trúarbrögð okkar nefnast ásatrú = Our religion is called Ásatrú
Ég er ásatrúar = I am of-the-Æsir-religion
Þeir eru ásatrúar = They are of-the-Æsir-religion

If Icelandic Heathens want to refer to ourselves by a noun, collectively or otherwise, they use some combination like ásatrúarmaður (plural -menn), or ásatrúarfólk. Note that “folk” here means “people” and not “volk/folk” in the quasi-mystical National Socialist sense so often used in American Heathenism.

Our second word is heilsa, which one frequently sees misspelled on heathen-related sites as “hielsa” and “hailsa.” This word is commonly misused in Heathen circles as a form of greeting. In fact, it is no greeting at all. According to Zoega, heilsa is a verb meaning “to say hail to one, greet one.” The correct way to greet is as follows:

Heill! – to greet one man

Heil! – to greet one woman

Heilir! – to greet a group of men

Heilar! – to greet a group of women

Heil! – to greet a group including both sexes[36]

Heill, incidentally, if it must be used, is pronounced not like the German heil, but as in hail. It is easy to see why “heilsa” does not work as a greeting. No person greets another by saying “To greet one!” Yet it is with this very word that Freya Aswynn greets us in her introduction to Northern Mysteries & Magick, all the while being assured by neo-pagan author Diana L. Paxson (who is also a Wiccan priestess) on that books jacket, “The wind that moves Northern Mysteries & Magick is the breath of Odin; its roots lie deep in the European tradition. The book is a classic contribution to the lore of the Runes.”[25]

Finally we have another word abused by American Heathens, Christian, as in the religion. In America is it often identified as “kristjan” or something similar. In fact, the ON form of the word is Kristinn. At some point, apparently, somebody noticed that in Iceland the proper name “Christian” is spelled “Kristjan” and decided there was no difference. This is despite the fact that the group of Icelandic laws containing the laws of the Christian era are grouped together in the Grágás as Kristinna laga þáttr (The Christian Law Section), which is sometimes called the Kristinn véttr forni (Old Christian Laws). This is information readily to be had for any curious enough to look. There are, for instance, two Old Norse dictionaries available for free at Northvegr.org. Sadly not many are, and kristjan has now, like heilsa, entered the American Heathen lexicon as the ON word for “Christian” and is equally mistaken. [26] This error is even found in Kveldulf Gundarsson’s Teutonic Magic, a book by an author with a good Heathen pedigree.[27]

A last example of English mangling of perfectly good ON words is the recently introduced heithinn (ON heiðinn) by Northvegr Foundation. One sees all sorts of horrible things done to this word, such as “heithinns” for a plural. “Heathen” can both be an adjective and a noun in English, so English speakers seem to assume that the same is true for Icelandic. Not so – heiðinn is basically only an adjective in Icelandic, and it declines in all genders. “Heiðinn” is only masculine, and the plural would be “heiðnir“. The feminine is “heiðin” and the feminine plural “heiðnar“. The noun is “heiðingi”, plural “heiðingjar”. Ég er heiðinn = I am heathen (adjective); ég er heiðingi = I am a heathen (noun).

Words like “Ásatrú,” “heilsa” and “Kristjan,” not to mention frið, hamingja, and heiðinn, cause me to agree with an Icelandic friend who wonders why American Heathens don’t simply use English words where applicable instead of trying to use words from a language they do not really understand. As he told me: “if you want to adopt Old Icelandic words into your language, you’d better know your Old Icelandic, or, at the very least, ask advice from one who knows. Otherwise, you’re just going to sound foolish.” Good advice, I think.

The problem of scholarship is worsened by the sudden appearance of internet experts or pseudo-scholars, who take on the pose of genuine scholars, though they are anything but. These individuals will pontificate on any number of issues and disseminate disinformation either intentionally or accidentally. Whatever the intent, the effect is the same. The Heathen visitor, or perhaps somebody leaning towards becoming a heathen, visits a site and is given a completely inaccurate impression of what heathenism is. Even the sites that try to supply both primary source material and available public domain scholarship face the problem of providing for their readers old, often inaccurate translations and out of date scholarship.[28]

Online chat forums or lists provide another avenue for learning, but these can be equally dangerous, as many Heathens who frequent such groups wish to do nothing more than to advance their own agendas or beliefs, rather than engaging in an open-minded scholarly discussion. By their very nature, certain topics will not be open to debate and even those that are tend towards strident flame-war sessions wherein arguments pro- and con- contain far more in the way of obscenity than fact. It is difficult to see what is advanced in these sorts of debates beyond a demonstration of the levels to which people are willing to sink to defend or enforce their beliefs.

The visitor to any of these sites must bear in mind that pseudo-scholars are everywhere, that very few people behind the scenes actually have degrees much less are scholars in their fields, and that they very seldom read ON themselves and are relying on the same translations as almost everyone else, or worse, are basing their statements and beliefs on questionable works of scholarship, old and new. And new scholarship is not error free, nor does it escape the charge of bias or spin. Sadly, modern works of scholarship, especially something so specialized as heathen history, can be frightfully expensive even if it can be found or remains in print for but a brief time and then becomes unavailable. This increases reliance upon the older works, which can be readily found free on the internet thanks to groups like Northvegr.org.[29]

What American Heathens need is a reliable translation of the Eddas and Icelandic sagas. Until a suitable Heathen scholar of ON surfaces, this they are unlikely to get. The situation has improved somewhat with the publication of Jesse Byock’s translation of the Prose Edda, but the Poetic Edda upon which so many heathens depend seems an insoluble problem. The poetry does not translate well into English and it seems the best solution would be a prose version.

Fortunately, John Pettit is at work on what promises to be a more readable and accurate rendering of the Elder, or Poetic Edda, into English.[30] Failing the eventual production of such works, the only thing left to a heathen, unless he wishes to learn ON or Icelandic is to show caution. Read everything, question, think, and do not assume ever that what you are reading is the final word.

Notes:

[1] Edward Pettit & John Porter, Saga-Book 25 (1998), pp. 92-5.

[2] Eysteinn Bjornsson in a private communication with the author, 5/9/05.

[3] Lee M. Hollander, The Poetic Edda (Austin, TX: University of Texas Press, 1962), xxvii-xxix.

[4] Leaves of Yggdrasill, http://www.yggdrasill.plus.com/html/elder_edda.html

[5] op cit, Assembly of the Elder Troth, http://www.aetaustralia.org/havamal_at.htm.

[6] Hollander, 26, agrees with Auden & Taylor though noting for the record that the line in question is “generally rendered ‘a woman when burned.” He does not explain or justify his own rendering.

[7] For the rest of this excellent discussion of the issues that arise with various translations, see Edward Pettit, Leaves of Yggdrasill, http://www.yggdrasill.plus.com/html/elder_edda.html.

[8] For instance, Völuspá, 49. See Hollander, Poetic Edda, 10 and Jesse Byock, Prose Edda, 72 (Gylfaginning, 51).

[9] Gylfaginning 23, Brodeur translation, now in the public domain and readily available on the internet. Arthur G. Brodeur, tr. The Prose Edda (Oxford University Press, 1923), 37. Jesse Byock, in his new translation of The Prose Edda offers the formula “nine nights in Thrymheim, and the next three nights at Noatun.” Jesse Byock, tr. The Prose Edda (Penguin Books, 2005), 34.

[10] Edred Thorsson, Northern Magic, 230.

[11] Garman Lord, Frith and Grith, http://gamall-steinn.org/fng.htm

[12] See Richard Cleasby and Gudbrand Vigfusson, An Icelandic-English Dictionary (London: Oxford University Press, 1874), 173, found on Northvegr.org at http://www.northvegr.org/vigfusson/173.php

[13] Mirriam-Webster Online, http://www.m-w.com

[14] Eric Wódening, We are our Deeds, 20

[15] Ed Fitch, The Rites of Odin (St. Paul, MN: Llewellyn Publications, 2002), xii.

[16] Ibid., xv.

[17] Ibid., 300.

[18] Miriam-Webster Online, http://www.m-w.com/dictionary/mana

[19] Simek, Dictionary of Northern Mythology, 129.

[20] Egils saga Skallagrímssonar, Trans. by W.C. Green (London 1893)

[21] Viga Glúm’s Saga, tr. By Edmund Head (London: Williams and Norgate, 1866)

[22] See Gundarsson, 171-176: “The ritual implements of Teutonic magic are somewhat simpler in conception than those of traditional ceremonial magic, although the correspondences, materials, etc. can be elaborated upon to the limits of the vitki’s ingenuity.” (171).

[23] Freya Aswynn, Northern Mysteries & Magick (St. Paul, MN: Llewellyn Publications, 1998), 2-3. Emphasis mine.

[24] Ibib., 97.

[25] by Haukur Þorgeirsson and Óskar Guðlaugsson, Old Norse for Beginners, http://www.hi.is/~haukurth/norse/olessons/lesson2.php?colors=1. Incidentally, “heilsa” still has the same meaning today, as do most ON words.

[26] Freya Aswynn, Northern Mysteries & Magick, xxxi.

[27] See both the Cleasby-Vigfusson and Zoega dictionaries available online at Northvegr.org. For Icelandic Law see Jesse Byock, Medieval Iceland (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1988), 24).

[28] Kveldulf Gundarsson, Teutonic Magic (St. Paul, MN: Llewellyn Publications, 1994), xii, where Gundarsson says, “To hallow a place or item is not to set it apart from the world – it is not taboo or untouchable in the sense of the Judeo-kristjan (Norse spelling of Christian) “sacred”…”

[29] See, for example, the Northvegr Foundation at Northvegr.org. Their Northern European Studies Project (N.E.S.P.) provides a commendable array of both primary and secondary source material relating to heathen studies.

[30] Edward Pettit, Leaves of Yggdrasill, http://www.yggdrasill.plus.com/html/elder_edda.html.