Allow
me to summon your imagination to the streets of Rome,
where today is a day of celebration -- and of reverence.
The great games of the Ludi Romani are set to begin, and
all is in readiness. Yet first we must do honor to Iuppiter
Optimus Maximus, in whose honor these games
are begun.
This
sacrifice is in itself a spectacle, and I have stepped
away from my duties at the Temple of Minerva to witness
the event and describe it to you. The procession starts
at the Capitol, through the Forum to the Circus Maximus.
The streets are thronged, but I have found myself a
good vantage point thanks to a loyal devotee of Minerva,
who has invited me to join his family on the roof of
his home.
The
crowd mills around -- the parade is late starting, just
as it has been every year. Vendors are selling sausages
and fruit, for what would Rome be without commerce?
People of all social classes are here to see the sights,
looking forward to a wonderful break from the daily
round.
Then
a buzz runs through the throng, and the footsteps of
the lictors are heard, escorting the chief magistrates
in their togas. Knowledgeable Romans inspect this group,
trying to figure out which of them is making the most
ostentatious show of piety in preparation for the winter
election. Of course, many of these men may be found
at every such sacrifice -- the flamen Dialis, chief
priest of Iuppiter, in his unusual attire; the Pontifex
Maximus looking handsome and aloof in his purple-striped
toga; the Rex Sacrorum, distinguished by the lack of
a senatorial stripe on his tune (he, of course, is forbidden
to serve in the Senate or hold public office).
Fond
though we Romans are of watching (and gossiping about)
our leaders, they cannot hold our attention for long.
Behind them comes the real procession -- young men on
horseback, charioteers, racers, some driving four horses,
some two. This is our chance to inspect the
animals on which we’ll be wagering our money! Cheers
go up for the competing teams, and a few fistfights
break out in the crowd among fans of Green and Blue.
After them come the athletes, naked except for loincloths,
and more than one respectable matron pushes back her
palla
to get a better look.
Next
comes a troupe of dancers, men and boys in scarlet tunics,
mimicing the fighters with their shining helmets, swords
and spears, but performing warlike dances to the tunes
of the flute-players. After them come the clowns --
actors dressed as satyrs and barbarians, playing out
broad jokes to entertain the crowd, even making fun
of the warrior-dancers ahead.
Yet
this is a religious event, and next we see the musicians
who keep the temple area clear of impure noises; the
men who burn incense along the route to purify the crowd
and the way; the priests carrying gold and silver vessels
with offerings to Iuppiter.
All
this is a prelude to the most inspiring sight of the
procession: images of Rome’s most sacred gods,
borne shoulder-high on stretchers. The list goes on:
Iuppiter, Iuno, and Minerva, of course, the Capitoline
triad who represent Rome herself; Neptune, Pluto, Vesta,
Ceres, Mars, Apollo, Diana, Mercury, Vulcan, Bacchus,
Venus, Saturn, Ops, Themis, Latona. The crowd falls
a bit more silent during this time, partly out of piety
and partly in an effort to remember who
everyone is! We ses minor deities (some borrowed from
the Greeks) such as the Muses and the Graces, heroes
become gods such as Hercules, Aesculapius, Castor and
Pollux.
Last
come the animals who are to be sacrificed this day.
These are the purest, healthiest, strongest oxen Rome
has to offer. They get a big cheer, for the Romans know
that after the gods receive their share, most of the
meat will be served out at tonight’s public banquet.
As
the animals travel into the Circus, the consuls are
waiting to preside. They, their priests and assistants
all wash their hands before the ceremony begins. The
consuls cover their heads for the preliminary sacrifice
by pulling a fold of their togas over their heads --
the traditional “cinctu Gabino.” Standing
straight and dignified, they place incense and wine
on the altar in offering.
“Iuppiter,
in making this offering to you, we pray with good prayers
that you watch over us and all of Rome. May you be honored
by this offering.”
With
this the consuls stepped back, allowing the priests
to purify the oxen with clear water and sprinkle the
animals with mola salsa.
“May
this water cast out all impurities from us and from
our offering, as from lead to gold. Purify our minds,
Purify our bodies, Purify our hearts. So be it!”
Then
the priests step back as well, for it is their assistants
who perform the sacrifice. As the flutes and lyres play
on, the oxen are struck on the head with a club, falling
on the sacrificial knives that
are held ready for the purpose. Then begins a time of
frantic activity, the animals being butchered and prepared
for cooking. The crowd grows restless, but the ceremony
is not over. A piece from each of the innards and from
each limb is placed in a special basket, sprinkled with
mola salsa and carried to the officiating priests. The
priests kindle fires on the altars and place the sacrificial
meat on the fire to burn, pouring wine over the flames
as they grow higher.
“So
be it!” they cry again, and the officiants step
forward to profane the remaining meat with their touch,
so that it may be properly cooked and served to the
people.
With
this the games are blessed, and Iuppiter’s favor
invoked for kind weather, prosperity and security.
