The Associated Press reports that, “Egypt said Tuesday that its archaeologists have unearthed a Ptolemaic-era temple dating back more than 2,000 years, that may have been dedicated to the ancient cat goddess, Bastet.”

The Supreme Council of Antiquities said the temple’s ruins were discovered in the heart of the Mediterranean port city of Alexandria, the seat of the dynasty founded by Alexander the Great in the 4th century B.C., that ended with the suicide of Cleopatra 300 years later.

The statement said the temple was thought to belong to Queen Berenice, wife of King Ptolemy III who ruled Egypt in the 3rd century B.C.

It is an exciting find. Mohammed Abdel-Maqsood, the Egyptian archaeologist who led the excavation team, believes “the discovery may be the first trace of the long-sought location of Alexandria’s royal quarter.” We’ve seen elsewhere recently that much of this part of Alexandria is now lying in the harbor.

Zahi Hawas, Egypt’s chief archaeologist, said the temple may have been used in later times as a quarry and that this was evidenced by the large number of missing stone blocks.

This is not unusual, obviously. Many ancient temples ended up as quarries. Those that did not survived only because they were turned into churches or were in remote areas. Alexandria is most definitely not remote. We are further told that this temple “was found in the Kom el-Dekkah neighborhood near the city’s main train station and is also the site of a Roman-era amphitheater and well preserved mosaics.”

Unfortunately, the ancient city lies directly beneath the modern city and maps of ancient Alexandria are incomplete and speculative as a result. Finds such as this, which illuminate the ancient city, are exciting. It leaves you wondering what else is lying under the streets, or in the harbor, waiting to be discovered.

I’m sure I’m far from the only one who would like to see Cleopatra’s Alexandria come to light.

So I am sitting in the waiting room of a doctor’s office and the TV is on. It is tuned to ABC rather than FOX (the station of choice here in town) and for that I was thankful. The View was on, and though the chattering and the way the hosts talk over each other can be annoying, it was at least not Glenn Beck or Rush Limbaugh.

But then their conversation turned to Pat Robertson and his heinous remarks about Haiti. I was glad to hear all four of them – including conservative Christian Elizabeth Hasselbeck, roundly condemn Robertson. I was surprised also to hear Elizabeth defend Obama and what she felt was a veiled reference to Robertson in Obama’s reassurance that Haiti would “not be forsaken.”

But the conversation quickly came to annoy me. “Why,” I thought, “am I forced to sit here and listen to all this crap about what their god would or would not do?” You cannot escape it. This is a debate we would not even be having, we would not be forced to listen to and to endure, if it were not for monotheism. There was no Satan in the days of polytheism for people so sell their souls to. This was an accusation that could not have been made. And therefore, a debate which could not have taken place.

We cannot escape it, however. We see it on TV, we see it in magazines, in newspapers, and on the Web. Hate, hate, hate. Condemnation after condemnation.

It is only at times like this, it seems, that any sound of condemnation comes from moderate Christians. Most of the time, the hate goes unremarked. Generally, the only people who speak up are atheists. Even many Pagans refuse to speak up. I’ve been told – scolded would be a better word – by Pagans who tell me that “Pagans don’t do that.” We Pagans are supposed to make nice with Christians. Apparently, no matter how egregious the offense.

And I am offended. I take my own advice. I turn the channel, I flip to a different page of the of the paper or the magazine I’m reading, or go to a different website. But when you’re out in public, you’re a hostage. You have no control over the TV while you’re waiting to see your doctor or your dentist, or while you’re eating your meal. And in a town like this, it’s very rare to find a TV tuned to ABC.  If the girl behind the desk hadn’t been so busy, I’d have gotten up to tell her how much I appreciated them keeping the TV on a channel other than FOX. It was that remarkable, I thought.

But even having to fend off the propaganda, to dodge the shitstorm of falsity and disinformation spewing from the conservative media, is an aggravation. These people, I think, must be insecure about their god and their beliefs to have to invoke him with every other word. Even Elizabeth Hasselbeck managed to get a “holy spirit” thrown in for good measure before all was said and done. Maybe she was afraid of being forsaken if she didn’t.

I am a pious Heathen. I am devout. I love my gods and my religion. I do not, however, feel the need to mention them in every breath. They are part of my life. I am secure enough not to have to keep them and my beliefs on the tip of my tongue to prove it to anyone. And I know Jesus spoke of this, of this public display of piety that conservative Christians seem to think is required of them today. But they cherry-pick his words, just as they cherry-pick the “Old” Testament, choosing what to believe and what not to believe as if it’s a multiple choice with no wrong answers.

Frankly, I would be happy if I never had to hear another word out of them. If I want to know what they think about their god or their beliefs I’ll visit their website or blog or read their autobiography or follow their Twitters. Otherwise, I’d like to get through supper just once, or a doctor’s appointment, without having to hear about the holy spirit this and the holy spirit that. Do you think that’s too much to ask?

Ross Douthat (the man who took offense at non-Christian spirituality in the movies – Avatar, Star Wars, etc) is back with a column about Brit Hume’s ridiculous invitation to Tiger Woods. Douthat rightly says that “Liberal democracy offers religious believers a bargain. Accept, as a price of citizenship, that you may never impose your convictions on your neighbor, or use state power to compel belief. In return, you will be free to practice your own faith as you see fit — and free, as well, to compete with other believers (and nonbelievers) in the marketplace of ideas.”

“That’s the theory,” he goes on to say. “In practice, the admirable principle that nobody should be persecuted for their beliefs often blurs into the more illiberal idea that nobody should ever publicly criticize another religion.”

Fair enough. Christianity certainly likes to criticize other religions – and other forms of Christianity. Though I would point out to Mr. Douthat that Christianity is far less willing to accept criticism directed at itself. To do so invites charges of a “war on Christianity” or seasonally, a “war on Christmas.”

But there is more: “Or champion one’s own faith as an alternative.”

Nothing wrong with this. After all, as a polytheist I champion polytheism. It’s why I’m here. I can hardly criticize Mr. Douthat for that. But there is often more to it. For a Christian, it is not generally championing Christianity as an “alternative” but as a “superior” religion. One is far less offensive than the other. I suspect Mr. Douthat, based on this and other columns, has lost some perspective on the matter. Christian champions do tend to be a bit myopic.

Then Mr. Douthat adds, “Or say anything whatsoever about religion, outside the privacy of church, synagogue or home.”

Notice that other possible places of worship get no mention from the narrow perspective of Christian monotheism.

I don’t have a problem with people talking about religion. I talk about religion, though I generally don’t initiate the conversation. Christians, however, like to initiate conversations about religion. These conversations often tend to be one-directional, however. They are often, “Do you go to church? Where do you go to church? Have you been saved? Do you know Jesus Christ?”and things of that nature. If you respond in the negative you invite further haranguing (there is no other word for it) and if you seek to make the conversation omnidirectional you are met with a stiff rebuff. “I don’t want to talk about that,” is the mildest response heard. Another is, “I’m sorry to hear that.” For a person of another religion to speak up is generally either an end to a conversation or the invitation to a long harangue about the inferiority of your system of belief as compared to the benefits of Christianity.

I venture to say Mr. Douthat has never been on the receiving end of a conversation of this sort. He lacks perspective.

To Mr. Douthat’s purpose in writing this column:

A week ago, Brit Hume broke all three rules at once. Asked on a Fox News panel what advice he’d give to the embattled Tiger Woods, Hume suggested that the golfer consider converting to Christianity. “He’s said to be a Buddhist,” Hume noted. “I don’t think that faith offers the kind of forgiveness and redemption that is offered by the Christian faith.”

He goes on to say that, “A great many people immediately declared that this comment was the most outrageous thing they’d ever heard.”
Look at it from a non-Christian perspective, Mr. Douthat. If a polytheist had spoken instead of Hume, you would not be writing this column – or, at least, it would not take the form it does at present.

The outrage would be from Christians.

Mr. Douthat is at least fair enough to admit this: “Somewhat more plausibly, a few of Hume’s critics suggested that had he been a Buddhist commentator urging a Christian celebrity to convert — or more provocatively, a Muslim touting the advantages of Islam — Christians would be calling for his head.”

“No doubt many would,” he admits.

Let me say this: Christianity is not the cure. In fact, there is no disease to cure. Or, as I’ve said before, Christianity is the cure for a disease that does not exist. It’s superfluous and irrelevant. It’s whole raison d’être is to “fix” what had gone wrong with “God’s plan,” but that is to presuppose that your God has, a) a plan; or b) the ability to effect all things everywhere on this planet – namely, that is “the sole God of the universe.”
Those are pretty big suppositions.

So when a Christian pundit publicly suggests that another religion is inferior (and that is what Hume was, in fact, doing) the rest of us have a right to take offense.

He is also fair enough to recognize that “Many Christians have decided that the best way to compete in an era of political correctness is to play the victim card.”

Mr. Douthat says that we don’t “need to welcome real bigotry into our public discourse,” and he is right. But his next words ring somewhat more hollow: “But what Hume said wasn’t bigoted: Indeed, his claim about the difference between Buddhism and Christianity was perfectly defensible.”
You’re being disingenuous, Mr. Douthat. You know as well as I do that Hume was not merely pointing out differences between two religions. He was saying that Christianity is the only religion capable of dealing with a perceived problem.

It is true, as you say, that “Christians believe in a personal God who forgives sins” but he also abrogates the necessity of personal responsibility for one’s actions: this includes the old adage that “There is no crime for those who have Christ.” Christians tend to believe that their truth trumps polite discourse, it trumps hurt feelings, and it trumps religious tolerance.

It is also true that “it’s at least plausible that Tiger Woods might welcome the possibility that there’s Someone out there capable of forgiving him, even if Elin Nordegren and his corporate sponsors never do.”

Yes, it’s possible – but that’s assuming Tiger feels like he needs forgiveness. You forget that the whole idea of salvation and forgiveness is alien to many religions. It is just as likely (if not more so) that Tiger will feel that the important thing is to accept responsibility for his actions and to behave in a better fashion henceforth.

You say, Mr. Douthat, that “The knee-jerk outrage that greeted Hume’s remarks buried intelligent responses from Buddhists, who made arguments along these lines — explaining their faith, contrasting it with Christianity, and describing how a lost soul like Woods might use Buddhist concepts to climb from darkness into light.” Somehow, in your mind, Hume’s own comment is not a “knee-jerk” reaction to an event. But it was. The knee-jerk reaction of a holier-than-thou Christian who thinks his religion is the answer to everything.

Mr. Douthat says that “If we tiptoe politely around this reality, then we betray every teacher, guru and philosopher — including Jesus of Nazareth and the Buddha both — who ever sought to resolve the most human of all problems: How then should we live?”

If this is so, why do other forms of spirituality threaten you so much, Mr. Douthat? A world (as in Avatar) full of spiritual people without recourse to Christianity – or Jedi’s and their Force, who also find themselves ethical, moral, and just without recourse to Christianity. I find that in general, Christians much prefer to condemn; they don’t like criticisms leveled at them in return.

I do agree with Mr. Douthat when he concludes that “It’s reasonable to doubt that a cable news analyst has the right answer to this question.” I personally would not want my news anchor to suggest that a person in the news should adopt a particular religion as a solution to some perceived problem.

Mr. Douthat believes that “the debate that Brit Hume kicked off a week ago is still worth having. Indeed, it’s the most important one there is.” I disagree. How is what one person’s religion might be of such profound importance? It’s his religion – not yours. It’s his business – not yours. It’s one thing to say: “This is my religion: this is what we believe.” Fine. Do it. It’s another entirely to say, as Hume did, “Tiger Woods needs access to a superior religion in answer to his problems.”

We can have religious discussions outside of churches and synagogues and mosques, but we don’t need public moralizing. Keep that to yourselves. The rest of us are happy – and moral, and ethical, and just – without your religion.

Yes, Virginia, there is a world without soul-destroying alien sky gods, and it is grand. I’m talking about Pandora. It’s not a real world, but for three hours it can be yours, and you can revel in it and enjoy the seething disapproval of conservative Christians at the idea of a fulfilling religion without their god.

It is chock full of spirituality – ethnic spirituality – in other words, Paganism – religion of the place and its inhabitants are truly people of the place. The people are called the Na’vi. And you find them in James Cameron’s Avatar.

It’s exciting. A people so much a part of their environment, and a spirituality so much a part of both. We can imagine that early Paganism was like this, being a religion of the place, shaped by but also shaping the people, shaped by the environment but also shaping understanding of the environment. Organic. It belongs. It belongs in a sense an imposed alien sky religion never can.

You can probably assume that the bulk of the human mercenaries working for the exploiters of the planet are Christian – or at least monotheistic – that would be logical given the balance of the world’s religion is monotheistic. But it’s not even implied. In fact, it’s never mentioned.

The spirituality reminded me of the spirituality of Dances with Wolves. It was, perhaps, even discussed a bit more in this film. The goddess of the natives is a “she” – Eywa - and if you want you can take away from the film the explanation is that the “goddess creator” thing is a spiritual understanding of a scientific explanation mentioned in the film or you can take away the opposite understanding. It doesn’t really matter because what’s important is the spirituality so beautifully expressed.

It was very refreshing. Very beautiful. Very pure. Very much the religion of a world filled with the divine.

The spirituality is so organic to the place that you are transported. And Heathens will not walk away without images of the World Tree – Yggdrasil, in their heads.

Ross Douthat’s 12/21 column in the New York Times http://www.nytimes.com/2009/12/21/opinion/21douthat1.html exemplifies the “offended” attitude. For Douthat, pantheism can never be more than a poor replacement for a real religion with a real Jesus to lift folks out of the “mundane” world.  He felt threatened by the Force too, in Star Wars. I almost responded on the 21st to Douthat’s column, but I wanted a chance to see the film for myself first.

And now I have.

By no means did all Christian reviewers condemn the movie for its non-Christian spirituality. For example, Christian Spotlight on Entertainment gives it an morality “offensive” rating http://christiananswers.net/spotlight/movies/2009/avatar2009.html but this is for language and misuse of “God’s” name rather than the nature of the film’s spiritual message. Similarly, I have to give credit to Christianity Today’s review as well http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/movies/reviews/2009/avatar.html

It’s also been pointed out that though Disney’s new Princess and the Frog has voodoo but no Christianity. But why should it? The argument I’ve seen raised that because the New Orleans of the era was an in your face Christian city doesn’t mean that there weren’t parts and people in New Orleans that weren’t.

Why should every movie made have a Christian theme, or even a Christian in it, as though Christians are the only people on the planet?

One reviewer  http://www.politicsdaily.com/2009/12/18/conservative-christians-dont-crown-princess-and-the-frog/ actually has the temerity to say, “Not so much for the 1920s New Orleans of “The Princess and the Frog.” As with most of the Potter series, there’s not even a tip of the hat toward explicit traditional religion.”

Excuse me, but “traditional religion” is Paganism. It is not Christianity

Very few movies are made today about Paganism – or that even have Pagan themes. Only one recently even portrays it in a sympathetic fashion – Gladiator – and the piety of Maximus to traditional religion was roundly condemned as dangerous – it lacked Jesus after all and so could not possibly be meaningful or fulfilling.

Most movies, regardless of what conservative Christians might say, are full of Christians. Ordinary Christians going about their ordinary lives, not preaching, not witnessing, not bothering anybody but keeping their religious beliefs to themselves. Characters wear crosses around their necks; often, the central characters, one or more of them. They don’t talk about their beliefs but do they need to?

If this is somehow anti-Christian I fail to see it. But the moment any character looks even remotely non-Christian it becomes a bit deal to some of these people. Non-Christian religions should not be portrayed in a sympathetic light, apparently – only Christianity – anything else somehow equates to a Hollywood war on Christianity.

It’s madness I know, but those are the cards we have been dealt as a religious minority – listening to the majority whine because 99.99% isn’t enough – they want 100%. What these critics really want is a return to the days of Ben Hur and Spartacus, where Christianity not only gets mention, but Paganism gets denigrated in the same breath.

It isn’t a question of equal representation for them – it’s a privileging of their viewpoint they demand and a concomitant rejection of all others.

And the suggestion that the release of Avatar at this time of year could be a slap in the face to “believers”? These people need to remember this is our time of the year – a holy time for Pagan peoples across the board, and that even non-Christians are entitled to entertainment on December 25.

New York Times has a good review of the movie here looking at it from yet another perspective:  Editorial Observer

It’s not often a piece of Norse sculpture shows up. They pull classical items out of the Mediterranean all the time, or dig them out of the ground in one of the many areas once belonging to the Roman Empire. But Norse items are a rarity. So it’s all the more remarkable when they find something this beautiful. This has been called the Odin from Lejre. Roskilde Museum revealed him on Friday November 13. He was unearthed during excavations in Gammel Lejre (Old Lejre). As the Roskilde Museum tells us, this area is central to Denmark’s early history:

It is here, according to the Norse literature and medieval chronicles, that we find the beginning of the story of the Kingdom of Denmark, which was ruled by the legendary royal family the Scyldings. This was in the period before the conversion of the Danes to Christianity and the transformation of the country to a European medieval state under Harald Bluetooth and his successors.

Though the Scyldings are a myth, as with many myths there is a kernel of truth to the stories. This was a seat of early Danish royal authority, as some of the finds, including a massive hall 60m in length, attest. And then there is this beautiful piece:

The find, a small figure only 2 cm high, is of Odin sitting on his throne. That it is the Nordic gods’, the Æsir’s, supreme god who is depicted, is clearly shown by the two birds sitting on the armrests of the chair. They are Odin’s two ravens, Hugin and Munin, that flew out every day and returned home in the evening to tell Odin all that had happened. The elaborately made chair is Odin’s throne or high seat known as Hlidskjalf. The seat gave Odin magic powers and from it he could see over the whole world. These attributes are connected to Odin in his capacity as the all-seeing and all-knowing god. Up until very recently, the representations of Odin as the ruler, to a greater extent than the warrior, have only been known from later traditions, such as the national romantic interpretations of history during Denmark’s Golden Age or the more modern Valhalla comics. Now for the first time, with the coming to light of Odin from Lejre, we can gain an insight into how the Vikings themselves viewed their supreme god. The figurine is cast in silver, and decorated with gilding and inlay of niello, a black-coloured metal alloy. It is richly detailed and a very beautiful piece of craftsmanship.

There has been discussed the possibility that this is Freya and not Odin (note the shawl and the strings of beads). On the other hand, the figure seems to be one-eyed unless the damage to the left eye is incidental. Either way, there is some explaining to do. Either what is Freya doing on Odin’s high seat, or what is Odin doing wearing what looks like a shawl? Viking Rune points out that “Odin might have been depicted in a dress, since in Norse mythology he is known for “unmanly” magical practices.” Take a look for yourself at the detail in this video: