Welcome to Through the Mythic Glass, dedicated to the cross section of ancient myths and modern culture. Mytho(logy) is the collection of stories (mythos) we tell about our culture and is the human attempt to put universal truths into reasoned speech (logos).

The goal with this publication is to see our culture and ourselves through a different mythic lens.

Let’s look into the mirror together. Shall we?

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In the heart of Kansas City, there’s a shopping district with Spanish-inspired architecture and an iconic fountain. This area is the “Country Club Plaza”, nicknamed The Plaza for short.

It’s a great place for an evening out. But with its popularity, it’s also a meeting place for demonstrations and protests (some of which I’ve attended myself.) The demonstrations, though, aren’t just limited to protesting the presidential administration. Sometimes, it’s people with signs like, “Repent or Burn in Hell!”

These extreme Christian groups are much smaller than typical protests that gather near the fountain—so unfortunately for anyone in nearby shops—the groups are quite mobile and relocate with their signs and megaphones to busier areas.

I have no patience for any religious group whose goal is to shame people on the street. I try to avoid them at all costs, but sometimes, avoidance isn’t possible.

In one of these dreaded encounters, I was with my spouse, waiting on the crosswalk signal to turn, and one of these sign-waving, megaphone-touting folks yelled a question in my direction.

I can’t remember what he asked specifically—probably because I was seeing red by that point. Perhaps he asked a variation of “Have you accepted the Lord Jesus into your heart?” Though, simply asking that wouldn’t have set me off. He must have asked it in a way that was particularly agitating. In normal circumstances, I would have simply ignored the person and walked away. But, like I said, I was seeing red by this point, and I almost never get that angry in public, and certainly not angry enough to react.

Most likely, he framed his question like, “Do you believe in Jesus, or do you plan on burning in Hell?”

Well, let’s just say I don’t take kindly to accusing questions like that. In that moment, all I wanted to do was to shut this guy up and make him regret asking me anything. So, I turned around and screamed, “I’M A PAGAN!” I don’t know if he responded because at that moment, the crosswalk sign finally turned green.

To be honest, I don’t consider myself a pagan. I grew up Catholic, and since leaving the church, I have gone from being an atheist to a “spiritual, not religious” agnostic to something a bit more ambiguous.

While I don’t consider myself a Christian, that doesn’t mean that I don’t see value in some of the sayings attributed to Jesus. This is my guiding philosophy for all world religions; I see value in different aspects, but don’t force myself to believe in aspects of the religion I don’t agree with. My morals and values guide what stays with me from various religions, and Christianity is no exception. When it comes to Christianity, when people ask me what I think of it, I’ve been starting to call myself a “Red Letter Atheist“ inspired by a Substack article I read a while back.1

Of course, explaining all this nuance to the man yelling about burning in Hell wasn’t possible. But, even if I had explained my beliefs and philosophy in depth, he still would have decided that I was definitely destined to be punished for all eternity for my beliefs. I wouldn’t be surprised if he called me a heretic for calling myself a “Red Letter Atheist.”

And thinking about the ancient origins of the word heresy, I would have agreed with him, but not for the reason he thinks would provide me with a non-optional one-way ticket to Hell.

Heresy: a word with a lot of history

Merriam Websters defines heresy as “adherence to a religious opinion contrary to church dogma.”

Heresy comes from the Greek hairesis, meaning “choice” or “to choose.” In pre-Christian contexts, heresy changed from simple choice to a school of thought or factionalism.

Herodotus, the so-called “father of history,” writing in around the 440’s BCE, tells his readers about one man’s unfortunate choices he had to make at behest of his king and queen.2 As Herodotus tells the story, the man has to make choices, αἵρεσιν in Greek.3

As Christianity became more popular, the meaning of the word morphed into something like wrong choice, to what we know it as today: a belief against orthodoxy or dogma.

The Heretical Gnostics and the man who hated them: Irenaeus

Heresy, with its negative connotations today, began to pick up speed in the second century C.E. thanks to a Bishop named Irenaeus.

Christianity at the time was much more diverse in beliefs than it is today. If you’re familiar with Christianity at all, then you know that while there may be different denominations, the main story beats of the Bible do not change that dramatically: God created the world in the Old Testament, Jesus came into the picture in the New Testament to save it. (I’m dramatically oversimplifying here, but you see my point!)

However, as these stories became canonized, the Church reviewed versions that didn’t fit into the canon. Any deemed “heretical” were cut.

Though, before this period of canonization, there were other Christians who told wildly different versions of Biblical Stories.

Like, the Gnostics.

The word Gnōsis (Greek: γνῶσις) for knowledge was used by the Gnostics to describe themselves and their religious beliefs. They believed they possessed direct and immediate knowledge of God. Not only that, they had the ability to give this knowledge to others.

One of the most dramatic departures the Gnostics make from the Christianity we’re familiar with today turns the entire canonized Bible on its head. These Gnostikoi, believed that the god of The Old Testament was actually a fraud named Yaldabaoth, not the true God (with a capital G.)4

But for our purposes here, let’s move on to the guy that hated the Gnostics: Irenaeus. In 180 CE, he wrote a work titled as “Against Heresies” or “Refutation and Overthrow of the Knowledge Falsely So-Called“.

In this, he railed against the Gnostics and shared with his readers that they should find “truth” from the Church:

“One should not seek among others the truth that can be easily gotten from the Church. For in her, as in a rich treasury, the apostles have placed all that pertains to truth, so that everyone can drink this beverage of life. She is the door of life. For she is the entrance to life; all others are thieves and robbers.” (Book 3.4.1)

As in, when it comes to forming personal beliefs or philosophy, there is one correct place to learn that: the Church.

All other choice is heresy.

Etymology as Paradigm Shift

As I mentioned earlier, I grew up Catholic. When I say Catholic, I mean I did all the things a good Catholic girl should do: the aerobics of standing, kneeling and sitting during services, Communion, attending Sunday School, and confessing my sins.5

So, as you can imagine, when I was young, heresy and heretic meant something MUCH different than it does to me now.

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When I was young, I never thought about the history of words or their etymology.

Where did a word originate? Did it have a different meaning back then than it does today? If so, why? And who (or what) changed the meaning of the word over time?

The older I got, the more I started paying attention:

1. the more I aged, the more I became more interested in history
2. the more interested in history I became the more I looked into the origin of words
3. the more I looked into common words, the more I became aware of some with awful backstories.6

Sometimes, I’m horrified at origins of words or phrases. But, other times, I’m so awestruck by the history of a word that it sets off a paradigm shift in me, like finding out the etymology of heresy.

Growing up Catholic, I never questioned if being labeled as a “Heretic” was a bad thing: it was unequivocally was. In my young mind, absolutely no good could come from heresy—after all, heretics wound up burning in Hell!

But now, I happily accept that my beliefs are heretical. Much to the chagrin of the man in the Plaza with the microphone—I don’t smell the pungent scent of sulfur anytime someone might think of me as a heretic. Because I don’t think of heresy in the modern sense of the word.

I’m heretical because I’ve chosen my own beliefs and personal philosophy.

If you’d like to check out the writing journey of this piece, you can do so HERE. These “writing journeys” are my way of letting you in on the creative process so you know that what you’re reading was written by a human (me). You can see more about my stance on Artificial Intelligence and more on my writing process here.

1. I showed my devout Christian friend this article and we’ve been able to find a lot of common ground spiritually thanks to it. She considers herself a “Red Letter Christian,” vs me as more of a “Red Letter Atheist.”

2. This story, from the Histories, is wild, but I don’t have enough space in this article to get into it, so I’ll save it for an upcoming Notabilia post! To give you a taste, this is a story of a peeping tom, and somehow HE’S the character I felt bad for!

3. The use of this word is in The Histories in 1.11.2 and 1.11.3.

4. There’s so many fascinating departures from the Biblican cannon that these early Christians believed and this little bit about an imposter God is just scratching the surface. This essay would be way too long if I added more, but perhaps I’ll devote another essay to the Gnostics and their beliefs since they are wild!

5. Though what sins are egregious enough for a 10 year old girl to be forced to confess to a full-grown man she doesn’t know in a coffin-like box through a screen, I’ll never know.

6. Like the word grandfathered.