Deifying The Sun And Moon

Recently Mani and Sunna have come up in discussion on various email lists and I have been privileged to read some of the most egregious nonsense imaginable. Apparently the idea of a moon God and sun Goddess is difficult for some contemporary Heathens to comprehend. Instead of trying to look past modern biases and binary affectations, we are treated to mental perambulations based on nothing more than a mushy version of post modern feminist “thought” and an inability to see, ironically, beyond traditional gender paradigms.

While it is true that the moon was, in many indigenous religions, commonly viewed as female (and conversely the sun as male), that was not the case in every religion. Lithuanian, Norse, and even Ancient Egyptian religions conceived of their celestial Deities quite the opposite way around: male moon, female sun. Now granted, we are at something of a disadvantage because not much surviving lore has come down to us regarding Mani and Sunna. I actually find it surprising that there isn’t more information in the surviving sources on these two Deities, given the importance They must have had to a predominantly agricultural community, but outside of who They are and what They do, we have almost nothing. We’re left to fend for ourselves and to rely upon the practice of personal devotion to find out more. This is not necessarily a bad thing, but it does complicate the argument.

To begin with Mani, the facts, as we know them, are few. Basically, Mani is the personification of the moon; He is a God of the moon. He steers the moon on its course, determining the time of its waxing and waning. As the moon reflects the light of the Sun, so Mani can be said to, in His ever-subtle way, reflect the light and might of Sunna’s power, which is not to say He has none of His own. To reduce Mani and Sunna to a paradigm of yin and yang (which I have seen done) is to imply that a female Deity is constitutionally incapable of wielding direct force in Her own right. It is to ascribe strength, power, and action to that which is male. It is to cast that which is female in a perennially passive role. Conversely, such an attitude implies that men (and by extension male Deities) cannot be gentle and caring. It is modern gender bias that has little place in the actual reality of the Gods and Their relationships. I could make a far more coherent argument, for instance, for Mani being an embodiment of the sacred Androgyne than for Him being some convoluted expression of a very yin Yang (yes, I’ve actually read this). I think that such comments though betray a struggle to fit the Gods into our narrow perceptions of reality regardless of how accurate those perceptions are. It’s a struggle that many of us go through when we encounter something in the company of the Holy Powers that challenges our outlook on how things should be. It is very difficult to get to the point where we realize that what actually needs to occur is the dismissal our own pre-conceptions as irrelevant. That can be a very frightening place to be.

To return to what we know, Mani doesn’t travel on His nightly journeys alone; He has two companions: a girl named Bil and a boy named Hjuki. These children are brother and sister and once had a very cruel father. Mani observed them being mistreated and moved by compassion, came to steal them away. They now accompany and assist Him on His nightly journey. Our moon God is also pursued by a wolf, Hati, who makes sure that He doesn’t stray from His assigned course. According to shared UPG (unverified personal gnosis) of many in the community, there is some likelihood of this for Mani truly likes humanity and likes to watch over those He cares for, even if only from afar. Hati has the difficult job of keeping the moon punctually on course. Of course, according to the surviving lore, at Ragnarok, the wolf will capture the moon and devour Him plunging the night into unbroken darkness.

Sunna is sometimes called Sol and the sun is the living embodiment of Her power. She must have been immensely important to our ancestors; anyone living an agriculturally focused lifestyle (i.e. farmers) would be, especially before industrialization, utterly dependent on Her for a good harvest. As my colleague Sophie Oberlander has noted in “Jotunbok,” Sunna’s presence in the heavens also has tremendous eschatological import: Her capture by the wolf Skoll is one of the signs of impending Ragnarok. More than that though, Sunna’s power is one of the building blocks of an ordered, healthy, whole society. (Think about it: when the Sun goes cold, we as a planet perish).

Her sister Sinthgunt is associated with healing (She is mentioned in the Merseburg charm as having healing power), and in a way, Sunna might also be said to have healing power. As the Sun She brings health and vitality, as the sun is made of heat and fire, so Sunna’s power has the potential to hallow, just as all fire has the potential to cleanse and consecrate. She drives out metaphysical darkness and decay as Her sister drives out disease. She makes the world holy and by doing so defines the inangard, the sacred enclosure of a healthy community. Scandinavian winters were and are long, tedious, and hard. The lengthening presence of the Sun in Her daily voyage across the sky must have been a welcome sight to our ancestors as winter turned slowly into spring.

That is all we really know, other than the names of Their various steeds. Both Sunna and Mani are children of Mundilfari. Sunna is wed to Glenr (a fire etin whose name means “Opening in the Clouds”). As an interesting aside, German scholar Rudolf Simek notes in his invaluable “Dictionary of Northern Mythology” that “Germanic computation is directed towards the moon and not towards the sun, and even shorter periods of time were given in nights and not in days.” (p. 201). I would take this to mean that Sunna ruled growth and the power of the sun to harm or heal, but Mani ruled the calendrical cycle – but this is only my speculation. Beyond the paucity of these few tidbits of information, we have only folklore and our own willingness to go beyond the pale into the ambiguous realm of personal gnosis.

In “Day Star and Whirling Wheel,” my devotional to Mani and Sunna, poet and Heathen Andrew Gyll notes:

“When I was called into the Northern Tradition I found it surprisingly easy to adapt to the idea of the Moon as a God rather than a Goddess. The fact of Máni’s maleness doesn’t alter His essentially lunar qualities. He is passive, aquatic, receptive and intuitive. Of course there is no such thing as a typical male or female but, if we pay lip service to the stereotypes, it is clear that Máni is no more a regular male than His sister Sunna is an ordinary female. It has always intrigued me, given the widely held preconceptions of Norse culture, how many of our Deities evince qualities more often associated with the opposite gender. Such Deities are bridges, they occupy that liminal space between different states and realities. “

He goes on to note that:

“Like Sigyn, for example, Máni is a bridge between different races and therefore ideas of how the worlds are and how they should be. He is a Jotun employed by the Aesir who has a soft spot for human children and is greatly beloved by the Alfar, light and dark. His connections with the tides and long standing agricultural practices regarding the sowing and harvesting of crops also tie Him in with the Vanir. Máni provides a point through which these races and their disparate philosophies can connect.” (quoted from p. 19 and 20)

I have worked extensively with Mani over the years. He is one of the Gods I love dearly and despite my own warrior nature, I have a far closer relationship to Him than I do to His sister Sunna (and so, while I respect Sunna immensely, I shall focus my comments now predominantly on Her brother). He is ancient, in a way that I do not think we can truly comprehend. I have often wondered if the cosmological and celestial Deities, while of Jotun stock, weren’t in a category all Their own. They seem so different from the later Gods that we commonly (or controversially) honor. Every time that I have encountered Mani, in tandem with an almost breath taking beauty, I have sensed immense sadness. This is a God who has seen millennia of human suffering whizzing wildly by and I believe He remembers every tear ever shed. He is out ultimate witness for all that Sunna is more involved in the minutiae of daily existence. In terms of devotional work, I associate Mani with contemplation and the internal rhythms of prayer and devotion, and Sunna with community action…if I had to choose but one way to honor each of Them. That is my impression at any rate.

For those who wish to ‘get to know’ these Deities, we are immensely blessed by the fact that we have only to step outside to see very tangible symbols of Them. We can see a visible manifestation of Their strength. Setting up small altars or shrines, connecting to Them through mindful awareness of their rhythms (what is the moon phase now? What astrological sign is it in? when is the next solar eclipse? When would our ancestors have planted their crops? Why?) can be very effective.

While Mani’s altar resides inside my home, I have Sunna’s shrine outdoors. It’s centerpiece is a large sun-dial. I have seen Her referred to as our Pace-setter, and therefore it seems appropriate to represent Her by those tools associated with time and navigation. She keeps us on course.

Regardless of how one chooses to honor Them, I think the recent discussions of Their nature have really highlighted something that I know I tend to forget: Humanity cripples itself by rigid adherence to its limiting perceptions. Compared to that, the Gods are limitless. It is a thing to consider. It is a thing to strive to overcome.

The Moon reigns supreme in His abode.

He is beautiful and invites only longing.

Praise Him.

(Day Star and Whirling Wheel, p. 23).

Deifying the Sun and Moon