Slavic Mythology Lost in Fantasy

As contributor to the mistakenly conceptualised concept of “belief legend,” I want to survey the historical antecedents and the circumstances that at a certain stage prompted researchers to identify this category, formerly classified as mythical or demonological legend. This was the time when legend scholars began field-collection, experiencing the profound attachment of narratives to living local folk religion. After decades of meticulous field observation, which has led to the accumulation of a more dependable stock of legendry from diverse national, subcultural, occupational groups, it becomes clear that folk belief is a part of any legend, therefore there is no need to maintain the term “belief legend.” Belief is the stimulator and the purpose of telling any narrative within the larger category of the legend genre; it is also the instigator of the legend dialectic. The current confusion caused by the whimsical application of terms such as “truth,” “rationality,” “belief,” and “believability” in schola...

The article focuses on the popular conceptualisation of a death-re- lated agent which is known in Finnish folk belief and narratives by the name churchyard-vaki (vaki means 'crowd', but also 'power' in Finnish). Natural concep- tualisation is economical and distinctions are only made when found relevant enough. Verbal descriptions of churchyard-vaki's appearance and actions to- wards people vary remarkably according to the narrative context. Rather than a clearly defined supernatural agent, churchyard-vaki is a complex of different ideas which have had enough similar features to form a single polysemous concept. The incoherence and context-bound variation of the concept imply that the status of churchyard-vaki has been instrumental rather than constitutive in belief tradition. In folk belief, churchyard-vaki usually represents the other world's intrusion into this world. As an instrument of conveying intended messages, churchyard- vaki has been used both in local gossip and traditionally formed discussions about morally charged questions. I have distinguished between three mental models, which have dominated the normative discussion about the relations between this and the other world. The question is about the ambivalence of the otherworldly impact and whether people are allowed or not to get actively in- volved with the supernatural. Belief legends about a sorcerer in the church at night make use of all the three models.

This paper examines the use of belief legends about witches, werewolves, and fairies at open-air festivals in Croatia today. At such events, traditions based on belief legends are invented with the idea of enriching local tourism not only as a source of income but also as a medium through which they portray their local identity. Additionally, the author argues that the concept of fear plays a significant role in the entire process. Visitors face the fear invoked by supernatural concepts, but within the monitored and controlled festival environment, which this helps them overcome their fears and learn how to control them. Furthermore, the author argues that people are increasingly turning toward learning and knowing about supernatural beings of belief legends because they offer an attractive explanation for the functioning of the current world and afterlife.

Folk beliefs and customs concerning cattle in the Faroe Islands.This article is mainly based on records of tradition at the Faroese Museum and the Faroese Academy as well as information from topographical literature. Most of the tradition material was colleced in 1967 and 1968. As in many other communitiesbound by tradition, many unknown factors are connected with cattle breeding. The traditional thoughts constantly revolved around good and bad luck.
 Magic practices and various customs were aimed at averting bad luck and securing, or even improving luck with the cattle.The article contains many quotations and is centred on topics such as the covering of the cow, calving, troll-rides and other supernatural beings, the first days of the spring when the cow was driven out into the fields, and finally on the milk.
 The magic practice in connection with the covering was to ensure successful lertilization. Here, as on many other occasions, the evil eye and the evil tongue might have a bad influence. Auguries were taken to discover whether it would be a bull or a cow calf, the latter being the most desirable with a view to the milk production. The calving was by its nature a risky event; the first eight days after the calving were considered to be especially critical, and the cow was said to stand »á oskbási«. The first syllable is probably derived from the Old Norse word »háski« meaning »danger«. So the cow was subject to danger during these days. This meant that a number of taboo rules had to be observed not to challenge the milking luck.
 Whereas the tradition of trolls milking the cow and riding on it were practically unknown in the material collected in 1967 and 1968, there is much evidence to be found in older records and literature. The various customs and magic practices aimed at misleading the trolls, e. g. by cutting a piece of the tail and placing it into the stone wall in front of the cow so that the trolls would not know which was the front and which was the hindquarters, or for instance by burning some hair on the back of the cow, sweeping its back with a broom, strewing some grains of salt on it etc. Eventually the cow was blessed by having a candlemoved around it. But also during the first milking days magic was practised, usually by putting various remedies into the milk pail. The first water given to the cow after the calving had to be lukewarm, and some embers were put into the pail. In the springtime, when the cows had been driven out into the fields, embers were iaid by the doorstep of the cowhouse, which the cow had to cross. 
 Many of the practices carried out in connection with the calving and the first time ourdoors for the cow resembled each other closely. The milk had the greatest economical value. Precautions had to be taken not only in the critical 8 days, but also during the daily milking and when using the milk. Thus milk must not boil over. Most dreaded, however, were the evil eye and the evil tongue, which might do harm to the milk. The magic practice in this connection sought to prevent strangers from looking into the milk pail or entering the cowhouse, and it was important to milk so noiselessly that it was not audible outside the cowhouse. Thus, the threats to the cattle were all the unknown and undefinable perils lurking about, supernatural beings and the envy of other people.

Book Reviews documentation, in footnotes and bibliography, accurate and virtually complete. Two appendices follow the five chapters: (1) literary references from Michelet’s geographical and anthropological overview, the Tableau de la France; (2) most interesting observations from the historian’s correspondence and private Journal on such contemporaries as Ben­ jamin Constant, Mme de Staël, Lamartine, George Sand, Hugo, and of course his favorite poet, Béranger. The study compares Michelet’s ideological views with received opinions of literary his­ tory: “ His judgments illustrate a highly personal manipulation of history and myth in order to parade a private obsession. They come to the reader, however, not as pedantic commen­ tary, but as a lively experience” (p. 1). Michelet, in his extraordinary prose, passionately applies to authors the strict standard of his secular religion of progress and collective action (by le peuple) by which the French nation came into being. The historian’s contradictions are as significant as his ideas: Michelet is often moved by literary quality—e.g., Ronsard’s poetry—when he disparages his subject’s actions. Literature, as history, must serve the heart as well as the cause of freedom. In the seven­ teenth century, Michelet favors Fénelon over Bossuet, while admiring the orator’s rhetoric, Molière over Corneille and Racine; but he exalts the eighteenth century which prepared the Revolution. Williams’s analysis of Michelet’s Rousseau allows him to clarify the historian’s basic mission to transform the consciousness of his readers, inspire emotional convictions that would impel them to transform society. Williams often points beyond his own modest perspective with tantalizing suggestions for further study, although he tends to understate the fecundity of Michelet’s tensions. Detailed studies of prominent works or authors would dramatically illustrate the vitality of the historian’s overwhelming estheticism (which he feared) and provide remarkable inter­ pretive insights. (His friendship with the young Hippolyte Taine, sensitively cited by Williams, would make a fine beginning.) This thoughtful monograph provides a clear entrance into Michelet’s powerful non-historical works that highlight the energy which drives the histories: profound ambivalences, a battle between moral convictions and emo­ tional prejudices, and concisely-stated intuitions of genius—all conveyed with the narcissis­ tic pleasure of an original and dynamic prose. E d w a r d K . K a p l a n Brandeis University Kristin Ross. T h e E m e r g e n c e o f S o c ia l S p a c e : R im b a u d a n d t h e P a r is C o m m u n e . Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1988. Pp. 170. Kristin Ross’ most important contribution with her new book, The Emergence o f Social Space: Rimbaud and the Paris Commune, is her formulation and examination of a theory of space. Ross’ elegant use of the “ extra-literary,” i.e., cultural, historical, and political components, exemplifies the novel and significant angle which her study assumes: that of “ social space” and everyday life. “ Social space” is the mediation “ between the discursive and the event” (p. 8); the author explains that it is a synonym for everyday life, which in turn is that which “ remains after all specialized activities have been eliminated” (p. 9). Ross successfully maintains that the significance of everyday life rests in that it is the middle term, lying between subject-oriented phenomenology and object-based structuralism. Everyday life concerns both the interior subject and exterior, objective structures. Ross’ VOL. XXX, NO. 4 113 L ’E sprit C réateur knowledgeable reading of Rimbaud’s poetry is hence “ centrifugal,” informed by extraliterary elements. Ross opens her book with a thoughtful introduction wherein she sketches out the specific terms and a Marxist framework which she uses in her study. In the first chapter, Ross weaves back and forth adroitly betwen Rimbaud’s and the Commune’s transforma­ tion of space, linking them, e.g., via their common construction of barricades through a sort of bricolage; the Communards use everyday objects for radical ends while Rimbaud uses specific Parnassian “ tools” or romantic images in radically utilitarian ways. This com­ parison of structural...

This chapter concentrates on folk beliefs. Folk beliefs, however, are to be sought in elite sources, the study of which entails some consideration of elite beliefs for methodological reasons. Members of the elite, who did not usually believe in fairies, sometimes assumed that the beings under consideration were angels, demons, or ghosts, in which they did believe. Their recording of evidence from popular culture was indirect and even inadvertent, and as a result, the boundaries of the fairy realm were partially obscured. With careful analysis, it should be possible to reconstruct some of these boundaries, and to place fairies more precisely in the early modern cosmos. But one of the arguments of the chapter will be that the boundaries of the fairy realm were, in important respects, indeterminate. The chapter describes some of the insights to the historical evidence from early modern Scotland. Keywords:elite beliefs; fairy realm; folk belief; Scotland

Whether intentional or not, the power of a moment in popular culture like The Witcher can illuminate and question what might be taken for granted or left unseen in our world. Theology, Religion and The Witcher: Gods and Golden Dragons takes a profound look at the intersection of popular culture and religious studies in Andrzej Sapkowski’s Witcher. The twelve contributors offer close readings and analysis of an eclectic tapestry of characters and stories from The Witcher games, live action role play, Netflix series, short stories and novels. This book is not only an exploration of religious symbolism or theology in the stories, but how dialogue, events and imagery in The Witcher intersect with the real world in which we live, where religious ideologies continue to shape global politics and lives, shifting and pressing upon the entirety of civilization, for better or for worse.

As shown by attempts by scientists and science students to propose a consistent scientific explanation for the cycle of catastrophic winters central to HBO’s Game of Thrones series, the intersections between climate science and popular culture afford educators a valuable “hook” for piquing the interests of nonscience majors. One of Netflix’s most widely-viewed ongoing series, The Witcher (based on Andrzej Sapkowski’s series of novels and short stories) has a similar climatic catastrophe at its core. Also parallel to Martin’s novel series and its HBO adaptation is a deep-rooted denial of the obvious signs of climate change in the Witcherverse, where the dichotomy between the science-literate and superstitious segments of society is stark indeed. Of particular interest is a ready-made scientific explanation openly discussed within the canon of this decidedly magic-centric fictional universe, namely the impact of cyclical changes in their world’s orbit and orbital axis: in other words, Sapkowski’s world has its own Milankovitch cycles. The tension between science, mythology, and climate change denial unfolds in complex ways within Sapkowski’s literary universe. With Netflix poised to air the second season of its multi-year, highly popular televisual adaptation in mid-2021, there exists an opportunity to integrate analysis of the portrayal of climate change within this popular culture juggernaut into our general education classes.

Whether intentional or not, the power of a moment in popular culture like The Witcher can illuminate and question what might be taken for granted or left unseen in our world. Theology, Religion and The Witcher: Gods and Golden Dragons takes a profound look at the intersection of popular culture and religious studies in Andrzej Sapkowski’s Witcher. The twelve contributors offer close readings and analysis of an eclectic tapestry of characters and stories from The Witcher games, live action role play, Netflix series, short stories and novels. This book is not only an exploration of religious symbolism or theology in the stories, but how dialogue, events and imagery in The Witcher intersect with the real world in which we live, where religious ideologies continue to shape global politics and lives, shifting and pressing upon the entirety of civilization, for better or for worse.

This study explores the practice of using business charm by Muslim traders in Selawan Village, Asahan Regency, as a tradition in the business world that is carried out from generation to generation and has become a cultural heritage among traders. The method used is a case study using primary and secondary data collected through semi-structured interviews. The findings explain that the use of penglaris begins with the reading of verses from the Qur'an accompanied by certain rituals, such as burning kemenyan and incense, as a form of effort to "cleanse" the shop or merchandise from negative influences. The use of business charm is considered a strategy to compete in the business world by partnering with supernatural beings. The ritual is believed to be able to generate profits and attract more buyers, although the quality of the goods sold sometimes does not meet the best standards. The phenomenon of the use of business charm by traders emphasizes the dynamics of business competition in society, where belief in objects that have been read verses from the Qur'an is considered in line with Islamic teachings. However, on the other hand, this practice raises controversy because it can conflict with Islamic principles that prohibit excessive belief in mystical or supernatural elements.

A Koasati Supernatural Being Geoffrey Kimball 1. Introduction The Koasati,1 always a small group, have never attracted as much interest as the major peoples of the Southeast–the Creek, the Choctaw, and the Cherokee. Their traditional, pre-Christian ideas were never documented, and are now long-forgotten. However, some understanding of these ideas persisted among the oldest generation living in the 1980s. Before the Koasati adopted Christianity, they did not have what one would call a theistic religion, i.e., they did not have a pantheon of gods. Special honor was paid to the sun, to the moon, to corn, beans, and mulberries, and there were dances held regularly that were felt to have beneficent effects on the people, but there was no worship, per se, of any deity. There was a supernatural power, hollilá, which existed everywhere and was of itself morally neutral, i.e., it could occur both in good and evil forms. For example, there was little practical difference between a doctor (alikcí ) and a sorcerer (atholló ), except that the former used supernatural power to help people and the latter used it to harm them. In the mental map of the world held by Indians of long ago (athommacó:ba), there were a number of beings who were not part of the normal human or animal worlds, but rather belonged to the supernatural world. Because they were neither “gods” nor anything considered worthy of worship, knowledge of them survived the coming of Christianity in the way that traditional religious practices, such as the Green Corn Dance (cashókti bítka), one of the primary yearly rituals of the Koasati, did not. One of these supernatural beings was the Ilhoscobá. 2. The Ilhoscobá The Koasati do not give an English name to this being; however, the word can be translated easily. The word ilhó:si is the agentive noun of the verb ilhó:sin, ‘to be lost in the woods; to forget’.2 The word cobá means ‘great one; big one’, so the compound ilhos-coba (with regular vowel shortening before a consonant cluster) means ‘Great-One-Lost-in-the-Woods’. Martha John (1908–1996) dictated the following short text in 1982 describing this being: Ilhoscobák a:ti-ilhosí:citǫ.3 Great-One-Lost-in-the-Woods made people get lost in the woods. Ilanawíhlíhcok, yomáhlik ilhó:si:fo:kok, ilhoscobáp naksó:n haccá:lit. People used to hunt, and when people going about got lost in the woods Great-One-Lost-in-the-Woods was standing somewhere. Ilhó:si:k, má:lon haytanáhkat ołá:citǫ. 5 Whenever they got lost in the woods, they turned around and went back to the same place. Má á:ti kánkok haccá:litǫ. That evil person was standing [there]. Mó:tohok kammí:cáhpik fáyli:fó:kon, askáhkaton ittohayó. 10 Thereupon, when he had done this enough and he left off, they got out of the forest. Kámmi:p, imí:safa ilá:citǫ. This being so, they came [back] to their homes. One can draw certain conclusions from the style of the text itself. First, the text is in the style that I have called “plain narrative” (Kimball 1991:571–72), and called a:łihilká by the Koasati. The fact that it is not a literary narrative (cokfa:łihilká), a genre in which John was highly proficient (Kimball 2010:42), indicates that John did not consider the Ilhoscobá to be a literary character. This is unlike the similarly-named A:tipacobá ‘Great-One-Who-Eats-Human-Beings’ or ‘Elephant’, which only occurs in literary narrative. The content of the text offers certain clues as to what sort of entity the Koasati conceived the Ilhoscobá to be. In line 7, it is called má á:ti kánko ‘that evil person’. Thus, one can deduce that, when the Ilhoscobá was seen, it had the form of a human being. Other evil supernaturals could take human form, for example, the Clawed Witches (Kimball 2010:116–24), who would appear as human women before taking their true shapes as monsters with long hair, long claws, and long pendulous breasts which they threw over their shoulders...

Reviewed by: The Oxford Handbook of the Book of Revelation ed. by Craig R. Koester Scott D. Mackie craig r. koester (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of the Book of Revelation (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2020). Pp. xxi + 525. $150. Composed of thirty essays, this handbook provides an excellent introduction to the most important scholarly trends that have shaped discussion of Revelation in the past twenty to thirty years. The editor, Craig R. Koester, puts the volume on fine footing with his "Introduction to Revelation's Social Setting, Theological Perspective, and Literary Design" (pp. 1–17), which briefly considers a variety of interpretive issues and summarizes the six vision cycles that structure Revelation. He believes divine identity and theodicy are the central questions motivating Revelation; thus, "Who is the Lord of the world?" and "Why would the sovereign God allow injustice to occur?" (p. 11). Literary features are treated in the first section, beginning with Mitchell G. Reddish's "The Genre of the Book of Revelation" (pp. 21–35), which prioritizes apocalypse over prophecy and letter, and "Narrative Features of the Book of Revelation," by James L. Resseguie (pp. 37–52), who characterizes Revelation's "masterplot" as a "quest story of the people of God in search of a new promised land, the new Jerusalem" (p. 48). The evocative imagery of Revelation is unmatched in the NT, and Konrad Huber ("Imagery in the Book of Revelation," pp. 53–67) believes its many verbal pictures, symbols, and metaphors were designed to appeal persuasively to the visual imaginations of its hearers. In "Rhetorical Features of the Book of Revelation" (pp. 69–83), David A. deSilva describes Revelation as an "apocalypse" that "unveils" and interprets "facets of the lived experience of its audiences, 'revealing' the spiritual dimensions" and "'true' nature of … those facets of their situation" (p. 70). Moreover, the rhetoric of Revelation strategically enlists authoritative voices (the Spirit, Jesus, angels, God, and other "supernatural beings" [p. 72]) and appeals to the intellect as well as the emotions (awe, shame, fear, and confidence). The OT also constitutes an important authoritative voice, and Steve Moyise's essay, "The Old Testament in the Book of Revelation" (pp. 85–100), identifies the scriptural symbols and vocabulary with which the author expresses his visionary rhetoric. The section concludes with David L. Mathewson, "Revelation's Use of the Greek Language" (pp. 101–14), and Justin P. Jeffcoat Schedtler, "The Hymns in Revelation" (pp. 115–30). The next section, "Social Setting," begins with Warren Carter, "Revelation and Roman Rule in First-Century Asia Minor" (pp. 133–51); Carter endorses a growing consensus that the biblical author has exaggerated imperial persecution and societal threats in order to heighten resistance to cultural assimilation and accommodation. In response to both real and perceived threats, Mikael Tellbe ("Relationships among Christ-Believers and Jewish Communities in First-Century Asia Minor," pp. 153–67) finds Revelation radically redefining God's people, with Christ-followers solely representing the true people of God. Richard S. Ascough ("Greco-Roman Religions and the Context of the Book of Revelation," pp. 169–83) [End Page 371] similarly thinks that Revelation amplified perceived threats and defined identity in sharp opposition to the "other." All rival religious practice is vilified in the process and characterized as either "feasting or fornication" (p. 170). The same issues are raised in connection with varying (and perhaps competing) forms of early Christian belief and practice, and Paul Trebilco ("John's Apocalypse in Relation to Johannine, Pauline, and Other Forms of Christianity in Asia Minor," pp. 185–201]) again finds Revelation drawing sharp, exclusionary boundaries around the addressed communities, particularly with regard to food offered to idols. The third section, "Theology and Ethics," opens with Martin Karrer, "God in the Book of Revelation" (pp. 205–22). Concerning the "Alpha and Omega" inclusio in 1:8 and 21:6, Karrer interestingly notes, "Since the letters [Α and Ω] were used to form words and numerals," the author implies "that every human thought, every communication, every reflection, and every numeric calculation involves God's presence" (p. 213). Loren L. Johns ("Jesus in the Book of Revelation," pp. 223–39) discusses the author's high christology, evidenced in the numerous titles and roles...

Spring Man: A Belief Legend between Folklore and Popular Culture, by Petr Janeček. Lexington Books, 2022. Ebook. 228 pp. £58.32. ISBN: 9781666913767

ebook). Petr Janeček's Spring Man: A Belief Legend between Folklore and Popular Culture is a comprehensive study of an urban folklore character from his appearance in 1919 in Bohemia to his current form in popular culture as a symbol of Czech nationalism, the working class, and social activism. Janeček covers the origins, appearances, behaviors, and functions of Spring Man [Czech, pérák] who appeared in legends largely in urban areas throughout the first two-thirds of the twentieth century. Janeček maintains that the idea of the Spring Man of folklore as a WWII resistance fighter arose from post-war literature and ideologically based scholarship and creative work and that Spring Man was morally ambiguous rather than heroic. While tales about Spring Man as a resistance fighter exist, far more common are tales in which he terrorizes the populace or attacks women. The one consistent characteristic in the tales is Spring Man's ability to escape, usually by leaping away. The reader is introduced to Spring Man in three vignettes intended to show the metamorphosis of Spring Man from monster to hero. The first, set in Prague in 1945 during the German Protectorate period, describes a boy returning home at night who sees a "dark figure… bounding down from the hill's crest with unnaturally high leaps" (1). The boy recognizes him because of his appearance: dressed in black and masked, and, most importantly, wearing shoes with springs in the soles. Frightened because he has heard stories about Spring Man's attacks on innocent people, the boy crouches next to his gate. As Spring Man passes the terrified boy, he grimaces at him and lets out a sound like the "bark of a rutting deer" (2). The second vignette describes the 1965 screening of the animated film Spring Man and the SS (1946). Children and teens are enthralled by the film and create games featuring the Czech superhero fighting the Nazis or attempt to mimic him by attaching springs to their shoes. The third vignette depicts a 2015 social action by an anonymous person purporting to be Spring Man, who criticizes the Czech nation for hypocrisy in commemorating Auschwitz while ignoring the former concentration camp in Lety which was the location of a pig farm at the time of the action. Janeček provides these vignettes as snapshots of the transformation of an urban legend into a principled superhero. The book's first chapter provides personal accounts and newspaper reports about Spring Man from 1919 through the 1970s. These legends first appeared in the mining and laboring regions of Bohemia and proliferated throughout Protectorate-era Czech lands during the later years of WWII. Many of the tales were collected by Janeček and his colleagues from informants who were children at the time the legends and rumors about Spring Man were circulating. Chapter

Bengali Muslims and Mogh Buddhists in rural Chittagong, Bangladesh believe that cholera is brought by supernatural beings, and have developed traditional methods of warding off the disease. These methods resemble a brief quarantine, which, as in the West, is ineffective in controlling cholera. The explanation for the tenacity of the rituals may lie in the sporadic epidemiologic pattern of the clinical disease.