Essay Entry 1: Understanding Ares

A mighty god who can bellow like nine thousand men, Ares knows both the victory and defeat of battle. He arrives in battle in a war-chariot drawn by golden-bridled horses, wearing his golden armor and helmet and brandishing a gigantic bronze spear. Perhaps moreso than the other gods, he dwells within those who worship him, being those who are drawn to or faced with battle and conflict. The Iliad explains how difficult it could be to govern war, particularly when other gods choose to get involved:

“Ares was indifferent to taking sides in the Trojan War, and his promise to fight alongside the Greeks was not one he gave great weight; Aphrodite was able to persuade her lover to change sides, much to Athene’s consternation.”

This depiction of Ares from the Iliad reminds us that he cannot be bound to a single belief or philosophy; Ares comes to all who feel embattled or filled with anger. Unlike those gods who largely received their offerings at temples, Ares accepts his due whenever, and wherever, it manifests. It is no surprise that he was indifferent – Ares is needed by soldiers regardless of their cause or king, and he is arguably the most egalitarian of the gods.

In ancient times, Ares was not the subject of many statues, nor were many temples built to him. This makes it difficult to study how he was worshiped. References to the god in the Iliad and Seven Against Thebes interpret mention of Ares’ name is metaphor in most cases: “secure the city before Ares’ blast storms down upon it” is seen as a synonym for an invading army. What is more likely is that Ares was believed to reside in the heart of each soldier in that army, making it less about colorful language and more about the action of the War God himself, through the swords of his followers.

Ares has never required temples to be worshiped; he is present whenever anger and the possibility of battle invite him to be.

So it was unfair of his fellows to ask Ares to limit his influence over such a war by committing to but one side. Battle and anger are sacred to Ares, and one does not expect a god to forsake something which is sacred to him. Ares also holds the poisonous serpent, the boar, and the vulture sacred; although they are not even closely related, the turkey vulture serves a similar role as the vulture and is probably also sacred to him. He is the ancestor of Thebes through the Spartoi, children of the dragon’s teeth, and serves as a Cthonic god there, worshiped as ancestor.

His names and epithets, not surprisingly, refer to his warrior aspect. He is called Aatos Polemoio (battle-insatiate), Brotoloigos (destroyer of men), Deinos (the terrible), Enkhespelos (spear-shaking), Enyalios Andreiphontes (the murderous Lord of Battles), Khrysopêlêx (god of the golden helmet), Loassoos (who rallies men), Miaiphonos (bloodstained), Obrimos (the mighty), Oxus (sharp or fierce), Polemistes Talaurinos (the god who fights under the shield’s guard), Teikesipletes (stormer of strong walls), and Thoos (swift), among others. These examples are mostly drawn from the Iliad.

Ares oversees many aspects of battle, and these can appear contradictory. He is God of War, War Averted, Rebellion, Civil Order, Brigands, Banditry, Violence, Rage, Anger Controlled, Courage, Manliness, Cowardice, and Fear. This means that Ares is the god to turn to, both to encourage and avert any of these things. Ares can be appeased to prevent war, control anger, and master fear; thankfully the same god that governs manliness understands cowardice!

The Spartans had a statue of Ares bound before Nike, which was intended to keep the warrior-god’s spirit in the city. Together with offerings to appease his bloodlust, this sort of binding is the most common form of ancient worship that we’re presently aware of. Ares was, and is, a god with very clear motivations, and appears to have been honored in much the same way that an earthquake or hurricane might be: to ask that the power be directed so as to avoid harm, or at least to cause that harm to someone else.

It is not nearly as common to go to war as it was two or three millennia ago, but Ares still has much to offer the world. He can be seen in the political strife that tears our country apart: debates over same-sex marriage, gun control, and health care come to mind. His hand is the one that defeated the Nazis and tore down the Berlin Wall. His rage protects women from violence and punishes the rapist. He gives courage to the oppressed, stays the hand of the potential suicide victim when all seems lost, and gives mothers the strength to protect their children against the dangers of the day.

Perhaps it is put best in Hearthstone’s Devotion: Prayers to the Gods of the Greeks:

“Grant me strength, son of Zeus, guide my hand at need, my heart at impact.”

 

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By T.P.W.

Poetry Entry 8: Call a Spade a Spade

Thunder; briefest of pause

Anger; what be the cause?

Righteous—Wrong though it’s right

Pissed off, ready to fight!

Kill you; grease stain on ground

Fire; spanking the hound!

Eat me; that’s what I’d say

Fuck it; fight another day?

These words are what a sane mind might say,

These hints are dropping like newborn eggs

Threshold – one you can’t pass

Middle finger – the God says “Kiss my Ass!”

ARES – God of War, God of the Fight!

Zeus’ son – strong with his might

Directionless fuel, burning the mass

I know what this means – it means Kiss His ASS!

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By P.W.

Poetry Entry 7: To Ares Gynaikothoinas

Sing loud you women who feast the god
that brings your fathers, husbands and sons safely home,
Ares who excels all the glorious ones of Mount Olympos
in courage and the strength of his body,
who has never admitted defeat even in the midst of overwhelming odds
and monstrous foes born of the rugged earth in a rage
– leader of hosts, driver of swift-footed steeds,
he who delights in the clash of arms and the roar of battle frenzy,
taught to dance by the centaurs,
and handsome in his gleaming helm with crest of horse hair
when he strides victoriously into the chamber of love’s golden goddess,
Aphrodite of the surging waves.
Hail the protector of your fields and the graves of your ancestors,
the one who does the hard, dirty work to ensure that Peace and Justice prevail
and the people are free to worship whatever god they choose.
All owe Ares and those who march with him a great debt,
so never cease to laud him and crown his altar with plentiful offerings
which would not exist but for his grace and generosity.

 

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By H.J.L.

Poetry Entry 6: A Prayer

Hear my prayer Ares:
turn away your face from me,
your black shield away, your voice away, away your deep helmet and flashing gaze
I pour you my libation far from the heart of the city.
Olympian, you are all terrible, your children are spears, and your lovers are arrows.
Far from me stand in your chariot, bloody-mouthed and planetary, your horses screaming and straining
plucking soldiers from their living roots
with joy
My hands are full with your gifts
I honor them:
struggle unending,
the striving forward,
lust of destruction,
the death of men,
but oh to stay only behind your heel, only under your dark shadow
working the salt soil.

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By G.

Poetry Entry 5: A Poem for Ares

Hail and let me sing of Ares
He of oiled bronze and sharpened spear
He of city center turned to smoldered ash
Against the sky as reddened gash

Lo, he comes as Miaiphonos
Savage as a misplaced tongue
Khrysopêlêx and Enkhespalos
Honours for the old and young

Bitter tonic of the righteous
keeper of the mortal blow
Ares Andreiphontês
Cursed words towards mine foe

With your favour you deliver
Nike’s wreaths and laurels bound
Like an arrow taut from quiver
Your wrath released without a sound

Hail and let me sing of Ares
God of war o’er sweat damped breast
Have purpose for this lone disciple
A token t’ward this mortal flesh.

 

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By N.D.

Poetry Entry 4: Foster Father

There was a certain poor family

with a brood of children,

the newest child just days old.

The father worked night and day

just to see that they had enough to eat.

One evening upon returning home for supper

the tired father took his despair to the road

and asked the first person he met

to foster one of his children.

The first person was a soldier,

dusty from his travels but in good humor.

Will you, good sir, foster one of my children,

the child you think would best suit

you, your needs, your pursuits

to feed, clothe and raise as one of your own?

 

I will, stated the man.

By my side, your child will gain

skills, fame and fortune.

 

Who are you, gracious benefactor?

 

I am Ares, Champion of Zeus,

Master of Arms and protective father of many.

It will not be an easy life, for war is hell

and many will look down upon him

for times of peace erase memories quickly.

Your child will learn to move, like a dancer,

the better to avoid an enemy’s strike.

Your child will learn how to use weapons,

for both killing and defending of self and others.

Your child will learn how to feed,

supply and lead an army, not from the head,

but by getting dirty with the least of them.

Your child will learn when to force a matter

and when to leave quietly, to fight another day.

Your child will learn when to rebel

and when to uphold civil order.

Your child will learn about courage and fear,

panic and perseverance, sex and love.

Your child will learn about life and death,

the enduring love of fellow warriors and

the heartbreak of civilian distrust.

 

The father bowed his head, in thought.

Will you love my child?

 

I will love your child, but do not be mistaken,

for my love is a harsh love

and my path is a bloody one.

If your child gives me their trust and

obeys me truly and faithfully,

I will never fail to do my best for them.

 

That is all a father can ask.

 

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By A.J.E.B.