Chapter 1: The Richness of Greek Mythology

People often enjoy casually referencing obscure mythological figures. It’s a fun way to add depth to conversation, isn’t it?

Photo by Hans Reniers on Unsplash

The journey through the Great Cover-to-Cover Dictionary continues! I’ve reached the pages beginning with “ant-,” which opens the door to a plethora of words featuring Greek roots, including the names of two mythological figures. One has to wonder if such proper nouns truly belong in a dictionary, but I admire the World Book Dictionary for its meticulousness.

Now, let’s delve into the characters.

Antaeus — n. Greek mythology. A colossal wrestler who remained unbeatable as long as his feet were in contact with the ground. Hercules ultimately defeated him by lifting him into the air.

A few years back, a social media trend emerged where users would share news articles with the caption, “Just leaving this here.” This implied that the content was self-explanatory, even for those who might not grasp the context. Antaeus's tale resonates with this sentiment—losing his strength when not grounded serves as a metaphor ripe for literary exploration.

Wikipedia provides additional insight into Antaeus’s background. He was born to Poseidon and Gaia—two significant figures in mythology. Shouldn't Antaeus have a more prominent role among the Olympian deities? Gaia is key to understanding why Antaeus drew his strength from the earth; it was, in a literal sense, his mother. Hercules recognized that defeating Antaeus on solid ground was impossible, which is why he resorted to lifting him off the ground. This narrative offers a poignant moral lesson about the dangers of losing touch with one’s foundation.

This leads me to consider the phenomenon known as "Nobel disease," where some Nobel Prize laureates later endorse questionable theories or ideas. It’s intriguing how often these esteemed individuals attempt to venture into fields outside their area of expertise after receiving such acclaim. The underlying issue seems to stem from inflated egos, convinced that one achievement guarantees competence in all matters.

For a deeper exploration of this unsettling trend, take a look at this comprehensive article by David Gorski from Science-Based Medicine.

Antenor — n. Greek mythology. A sagacious elder from Troy who believed Helen should be returned to Menelaus.

What’s particularly appealing about Antenor is that he serves as a male counterpart to the prophetic figure Cassandra. According to legend, Apollo granted Cassandra the gift of prophecy but cursed her so that no one would ever believe her forecasts. This dynamic has led writers, particularly journalists, to use "Cassandra" to describe insightful individuals whose warnings go unheeded until it's too late. Think of those who cautioned against the unsustainable rise in housing prices during the early 2000s.

Antenor complements Cassandra, as they are both pivotal figures from Troy. He appears in the Iliad and is referenced in the Aeneid, as well as in Chaucer’s and Shakespeare’s adaptations of Troilus and Cressida. Legend has it that he escaped Troy’s downfall and founded the Italian city of Padua. A noteworthy legacy, indeed! The name "Antenor" could serve as a clever reference to someone whose wise counsel is ignored.

Anthropopathy — n. The act of attributing human emotions or passions to deities, animals, or inanimate objects.

While much of this discussion has been light-hearted, we now encounter a term with profound implications. The word "anthropomorphic" refers to entities resembling humans in form, while its verb form is anthropomorphize. This is typically the term we use when discussing the tendency to treat non-human entities as if they possess human emotions. Interestingly, the rarer term anthropopathize specifically refers to this concept.

When we think dolphins yearn for our affection due to their friendly appearance, we are anthropopathizing. The same applies to sloths, who, contrary to their cute demeanor, prefer not to be touched by humans. This misinterpretation can negatively impact these animals.

What about our deities?

The Judeo-Christian scriptures suggest that God created humankind in His image. Conversely, many philosophers argue that the reverse is true: humans have historically crafted gods that mirror their own desires and values. These deities often crave what humans desire—think roasted lamb or wine—leading to rituals of sacrifice and offerings.

Additionally, the prohibitions set by these gods often reflect the interests of the ruling class, maintaining a heaven that seems more accessible to the elite. This pattern persisted even as polytheism faded and monotheism took precedence. The question of divine endorsement of practices like slavery depends heavily on the era in question.

For much of human history, we have likely anthropopathized our understanding of God. This tendency carries over to secular beliefs; even those who do not subscribe to traditional religious views may attribute intentions to the universe, such as the belief that it has a grand plan. The universe is often seen as a force that ensures justice, rewarding good and punishing evil, even if it unfolds over human timelines.

Yet, if we are honest, these concepts emerge from human biases. We engage in anthropopathizing when we assign consciousness and intervention to the cosmos, despite lacking any empirical evidence.

In a recent essay for the Medium Writers Challenge, I explored my (albeit limited) grasp of Newtonian versus Einsteinian concepts of space—Newton’s absolute space versus Einstein’s theory of relativity. This piece garnered two detailed responses from readers more versed in physics than I am. One particularly intriguing line noted, “Until one thinks in math rather than words, most concepts in physics are at best vaguely adumbrated.”

I find it hard to fathom thinking in mathematical terms, yet math serves as a universal language among scientists, transcending linguistic barriers. In fact, it may be the only language that predates humanity.

I even ponder whether math could represent an aspect of divinity.

I recognize how unconventional this might sound. At this moment, you might worry that I’m veering into the territory of the protagonist in Darren Aronofsky’s Pi. I considered softening my assertion by saying, “Math might be the only visible aspect of God that we have,” but that feels disingenuous. One could easily substitute "love" or "nature" in that statement, yet these concepts, while significant, don’t capture my intention.

What truly captivates me are cicadas.

There exists a species known as the magicicada or periodical cicada, whose populations emerge from underground in staggered cycles, minimizing competition for resources during mating and breeding seasons. While I could accept that these cicadas have cycles based on odd years, the revelation that they adhere to prime-number cycles—thirteen and seventeen—left me astounded, akin to a moment of sheer disbelief.

A cicada, with a brain no larger than a pea, does not comprehend prime numbers. It operates on a programming that dictates its emergence in prime-number cycles. This realization prompted me to seek out other instances of math influencing the universe. Once you start looking, mathematical patterns are evident everywhere. Consider sunflowers, whose seeds are arranged in a Fibonacci sequence, or music, where harmonious chords depend on specific note ratios. The same principles apply to color theory: pleasing color combinations rely on proportional relationships on the color wheel. Even literature can be viewed through this lens, where sentences function like equations.

My mind is reeling.

Returning to the dictionary theme, here’s my perspective: If math is the singular, unchanging force governing the universe, then in a sense, we have a form of intelligent design. However, we lack an anthropopathic entity—a grand intellect capable of understanding our emotions or sharing our values. Math cannot be prayed to; it can only be comprehended.

This notion is challenging to embrace, which may explain why many of us prefer to anthropopathize the universe. Or perhaps I’m mistaken. I welcome further discussions in the comments, where someone might clarify what I’ve misunderstood regarding cicadas or sunflowers, suggesting that it’s all quite ordinary.

That would indeed be a relief.

Chapter 2: Recommended Resources for Ancient Greek Studies

To enhance your understanding of Ancient Greek language and culture, check out these informative videos.

The first video titled The Best Books and Online Resources for Learning Ancient Greek provides an overview of essential materials for those interested in mastering the language.

The second video, Which Greek Lexicon Should You Use? (Selecting the Right One for the Job), guides viewers in choosing the most suitable lexicon for their studies.