EsoterX

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This has been a brutal winter for us closet paranormal fans.  Linda Godfrey died in late November and now I’ve just learned of the passing of Aaron Dabbah, known as EsoterX to many of us.  As with Linda, I never met Aaron but we had corresponded over his excellent and unfailingly well-written blog.  About a decade my junior, he posted sporadically—sometimes manically—and grew a sizable readership.  There was no esoteric topic he wouldn’t take on and his style was consistently so light that I suppose I was secretly jealous.  At one time I toyed with the idea of suggesting to him that we write a book together, but I was simply too impressed by his writing ability to broach the subject.  He kept his identity secret, only recently letting his name become known.  I miss him already.

I don’t fly my freak flag too often on this blog—guess I’m irrationally hoping an academic position will open up and I’m no Jeff Kripal— but I do find the weird to be of interest.  I have ever since I was a kid.  One of the reasons, I suppose, is that I noticed what I’d been taught about the way the world works didn’t match up with my experience.  I saw strange things as a kid, but I knew I was rational and thought things through.  Like that time our dog refused to go through the middle of the living room, but stalked around the edges of the room growling at something in the center that none of us could see.  That particular dog was quite smart and not prone to unusual behavior.  That kind of thing happened.  Among other things.

Back when I was making a living as an adjunct (also strange) I had time to keep up with several blogs.  I was always glad to see a new post on EsoterX.  Then, as too often happens, life got busy.  I put off reading the posts when the notices came.  The scariest part about all of this, however, is the assumption that there will always be time.  Every time I got an email notice from EsoterX I thought, “that can wait, I’ll read it later.”  I feel for Dabbah’s family.  Although fifty isn’t exactly young, it’s not really old either.  Paranormal studies dwell in that liminal space of life and death.  When I saw the blog post title, “This is the end of one road, but not goodbye” (written by his wife) I thought perhaps EsoterX was retiring his blog, but I read the post with something deeper transpiring.  Aaron Dabbah, we never met, but you are very missed.

Fears of a Clown

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A few weeks back, over on EsoterX, I was reading about circus oddities. Perceptive as always, EsoterX notes that the carnival or circus used to be disturbing. Before being commercialized and sanitized, otherwise civilized folk crept out of town to gaze at the bizarre and troubling aspects so effectively hidden from 9 to 5. Among the most disconcerting of the carnies was the clown. Horror writers and film makers have long focused on the ambiguity of the clown—faces are our clues to the intentions of another person. A face painted is opaque and we feel as vulnerable as in the presence of the false evangelical smile that hides a spiritual deadness in hardened eyes. You are about to be victimized. It is no wonder that small children—and not a few adults—are freaked out by clowns. At times they make us laugh, but mostly they make us tremble.

ClownThose who know or read me may have a difficult time believing that I once was a clown. Not a professional one, of course—it is even more difficult to believe I’ve ever been a profession anything—but part of a campus clown ministry. Beyond simple titillation, I state this fact because, like most things in my life, I researched clowning before I became a part of it. Those books are, of course, packed away with other forgotten bits of personal marginalia but I remember bits and pieces. The origins of the clown are religious. In fact, in the most ancient of societies clowns were most often played by priests. Their early bungling, which may go back to the third millennium BCE, was perhaps a way to indicate that even the somber role of the cleric could be taken too seriously. Like modern concepts such as Mardi Gras or Carnival, that which is sacred builds such pressure that normal people become a little unhinged. We erupt into frivolity while the divine turns a blind eye. Or secretly smiles.

Clowns for Christ was a Grove City College organization that I revived in my Junior year, serving as president and acquiring a campus charter. Based on 1 Corinthians 4.10, we declared ourselves “fools for Christ,” reprising, unknowingly, an ancient pagan custom. We visited nursing homes and mental hospitals and other campus events, bringing the good news in the form of silent skits. The clown traditionally does not talk. Even today when I hear a clown in makeup speak I give him or her a glare—clowning is physical, not audible. As I left college I left behind my childish ways (at least some of them). And the years since have taught me to be afraid of clowns, as any reasonable person should be.

Esoteric Goddesses

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250px-Statuette_Goddess_Louvre_AO20127One of the nice things about the internet is that you can indulge your unorthodox interests and nobody will much care (except, of course, the US government). The other day, while reading about monsters, I found a fellow WordPress site, EsoterX. More specifically, I found a blog post on Ashtaroth. Those who have more than a passing interest in my background know that I spent a few years of my life writing about the goddess Asherah. Asherah and Ashtaroth are sometimes easily confused by anyone not reading about them in the original languages, but I settled on Asherah because we simply don’t have much textual information on Ashtaroth. Ashtaroth has gone by a number of names over time: Athtart, Astarte, and, as I just learned from EsoterX, Lord Treasurer of Hell. I won’t try to repeat the clever observations of EsoterX, but I can’t help myself add my own two shekels’ worth.

Ashtaroth is clearly one of the bad girls of the Hebrew Bible. She tempts the upright astray, and she seems to have been a perennial favorite among the less-than-orthodox Israelites. The Bible doesn’t take much care to flesh her out fully, and she appears only in minor roles in the Ugaritic texts. Some in the ancient world easily associated her with Ishtar, and their names do seem to bear some kind of relationship. Ashtaroth is connected to the planet Venus, as was the latter goddess Aphrodite—named, appropriately enough by the Romans, as Venus. Ashtaroth was also a militaristic goddess associated with horses. That girl got around.

Unfortunately, in the literature that survives from the earliest period, we are left with only the sketchiest of outlines of this once important goddess. Many of the Semitic deities have been revived in popular mythology of the modern age, and Ashtaroth, with her sexy, yet belligerent nature, is always appealing to the puerile imagination of pubescent boys. She was taken with great seriousness long ago, however, although her origins are lost to history and her attributes have become general enough to fit just about any old generic goddess. I’m glad to see that EsoterX has given her a shout-out and has traced a brief history of the goddess through the ages. Maybe someday we’ll find some accurate information on her early days. If we do, will somebody please give me a poke? I will probably be busy reading EsoterX.