Arrowhead stuck in your eye? We have a cure for that!
I am in the process of planning a research trip to Greece for a new but secret project I am not allowed to talk about. . .
When I plan trips like this, I go through a bit of a process to help reign in my excitable enthusiasm. The first step is a simple one that allows the excitability to come out; I ask myself: ‘If you could see anything what would it be? If you could go anywhere, regardless of transport or cost, where would you go?’
Once I have that list set, I then get out a map of Greece and start plotting.
Inevitably, cost and time frames must come into the equation and so my list begins to shrink. Reality begins to set in, and sites that are closer together start to be grouped. This creates a logical plan in the end, but it does often mean certain places always get bumped off for logistical reasons.
One such place is the ancient healing sanctuary of Epidaurus in the Peloponnese. I have always wanted to go, but have never been able to manage a way to get there in budget and with the time scales I have. Indeed, I am not convinced I can justify getting there this next time either, which is frustrating. So, instead, I thought I would show you my favourite type of evidence we get from the site!
Epidaurus was, as I said, a healing sanctuary dedicated to the god Asclepius. Asclepius is a fascinating figure in Greek myth. Not least because he was one of the few mortals to achieve immortality. He was the son of Apollo, but had a mortal mother, and was educated by the centaur Chiron who taught him medicine. Unfortunately for the gods, Asklepius became too adept as a physician and could not only heal the sick, he could also heal the dead! Zeus killed him in dramatic fashion using his thunderbolt, but on the request of Apollo he placed Asclepius among the stars.
Asclepius was worshipped as a god of medicine and healing, he is even named in the Hippocratic Oath as one of the gods to which the vow was made. His symbol was a staff that he would carry with him, around which was coiled a snake. Remember that, it’s important.
So, back to Epidaurus.
At the site, researchers discovered four large inscriptions dating from the 4th century BCE which recorded miracles of healing. They list around 70 in total and the medical needs are quite wide-ranging from illnesses, to the desire to conceive, and even a cure for baldness. This evidence offers us insight into the true devotion and power of belief that was held by both ancient Greek men and women.
But one of my favourite miracles is military in nature and certainly raises more questions than it answers:
Antikrates of Knidos, eyes. This man had been stuck with a spear through both his eyes in some battle, and he became blind and carried around the spearhead with him, inside his face. Sleeping in the shrine, he saw a vision. It seemed to him the god pulled out the dart and fitted the pupil back into his eyelids. When day came he left well.
This is not the only battle-related healing that appears in these inscriptions and they really highlight the physical toll that combat had on many Greek men. That aside, this story is just bonkers. With so little information we are left to ask: was his blindness fully cured? Did they use any form of anaesthetic? Did they really do it as he slept? All while trying to not gag at the idea of it all.
Now, of course this must all be taken with a pinch of salt. It is after all a record of a miracle. However, sometimes there are grains of truth within them. A second miracle I am particular fond of describes a man being healed by an unexpected nurse:
A man's toe was healed by a snake. He was in a terrible condition from a malignant ulceration on his toe. During the day he was carried out of the abaton by the servants and was sitting on a seat. He fell asleep there, and then a snake came out of the abaton and healed the toe with its tongue; and when it had done this it went back into the abaton again. When the man woke up, he was well and he said he had seen a vision: it seemed to him that a good-looking young man had sprinkled a drug over his toe.
I am not too sure how a snake licking your toe could heal you, but this is not the only such tale recorded. Maybe this helps to explain the use of the snake as Asclepius’ symbol, wrapped around a walking stick.
Another miracle is described that appears similar to this in many ways, but the nurse in question was not a snake but rather a dog:
A dog cured a boy from Aigina. He had a growth on his neck. When he had come to the god, a dog from the sanctuary took care of him with his tongue while he was awake, and made him well.
Feeling better after a dog comes up and licks you makes a lot more sense, at least to this dog lover!