Hermes

What does this mean for you? Your cunning and mischievous nature defines you, and you definitely live for a good joke. But you may also be sly and ever-so-slightly (or very) devious, ultimately creating something new for the world from your many tricky plots and ideas, but also, your ambition. 

The Homeric Hymn to Hermes goes a little something like this: Born into seclusion, Hermes craved a way out. His mother was a sweet, but powerless nymph of Acadia in Greece, while his father happened to be Zeus, king of the gods who ruled on Mt. Olympus. Zeus was unfortunately known for his adulterous affairs, which enraged his faithful wife Hera, who could not take out her wrath on her all-powerful husband, so she tried (and often succeeded) to ruin the lives of all his mistresses. Which happened to be many. 

As a result, Hermes was born within a cave, far, far away from the golden palaces of the gods. But there was a cunning in him, even as a babe. While his mother slept after childbirth, Hermes snuck out. Just outside the cave, he spotted a tortoise who he instantly befriended. He laughed with joy upon seeing her, and took her inside the cave to play with her. 

“You have such a beautiful shell, dear tortoise,” he said. “I shall bring you inside and I promise I won’t dishonor you, but make you something great. It is better inside, for the outdoors are harmful. Surely out there you would die a painful death out there all alone, but with me, even in death, I shall make you sing and be remembered forever.”

There was no malice in these words, but Hermes struck the tortoise and transformed her shell into the back of a lyre, which he stringed up and wrapped accordingly. Once he plucked her strings, he created music and started to sing. He sang about great tales of men and beasts, making things up as he went along, before he sang the very tale of his birth! He sang of his parents and his own divinity, but while he sang, he found himself longing for something else…something hot and filling. Meat. A great hunger besieged him, and he took off into the night. 

He flew and arrived at the steppes of Pieria, where his brother, Apollo, god of the Sun, let his immortal cattle graze in the grassy meadows. With a smile and a thought, he took from his brother fifty cattle, urging them along, even while he covered their tracks, making them appear as if they walked backward instead of forwards. There, he also wove himself a pair of sandals, plucked from the leaves and hearty stalks of Pieria. But before he left, an old man saw him leave, hardly believing his eyes, for Hermes was but a babe, flying around and directing cattle. We observers can imagine this poor shepherds’s double-take at the bizarre sight.

But Hermes went on, and just before dawn, slaughtered the cattle as sacrifice for the gods. He crafted firesticks and let a fire burn, slowly cooking the cattle, for his hunger for meat had not yet abated. Once done, he cut them up into twelve pieces, one for each of the eleven Olympians. But what of the twelfth, you ask? Why, that piece was sacrificed and displayed for himself. Though he longed to taste the meat he’d sacrificed, a greater fate awaited him. He would stave off this baseless craving for something far more sacred. After all, who else would deserve to be the twelfth Olympian besides wily Hermes? 

Once the sacrifice was complete, he covered the cinders and threw away his sandals before dawn could break and flew all the way home, back to his cradle. Though his mother was immediately concerned, Hermes calmed her with crafty words. He promised his mother that one day they would stand with the gods on Mt. Olympus, for he was cunning and knowing, but things had to be done before any of this could happen, including thievery and tricks, which he would be lord over. 

By dawn, however, Apollo noticed his cattle were missing, and asked the old shepherd what had become of them. 

“Ah, well, my eyes are old and not as good as they once were,” the shepard said, uneasy. “But I will tell you what I think I saw, for I have half a mind to say I saw a baby take them, walking backwards all the way.”

Well, there was only one new baby he knew of, and with an eagle in the sky as evidence, Apollo instantly knew the culprit. Hermes. 

So the god of sunlight and music stomped towards the cave of Maia and Hermes. 

Ever the trickster, Hermes laid in his crib, cradling his newly-invented lyre, yawning and cooing, as if he were about to fall asleep. But Apollo didn’t buy this disguise. 

“Child of lies,” Apollo said, “tell me where my cattle are at once or I shall hurl you into the dark caverns of Tartarus in Hades.”

“Huh? Whatever do you mean?” Hermes asked, all innocence. “I know nothing about cattle or Tartarus. How could I have taken your ‘cattle,’ was it? I will promise you on my father’s head. Why, I was just born yesterday, after all.”

Despite it all, Apollo burst out laughing. “You think you can deceive me? Oh, you’re clever though. I won’t deny that, but come now, tell me where my cattle are!” So he spoke, and Apollo grabbed the small child, and with little power, but great cleverness, Hermes farted right in his brother’s face, and Apollo instantly dropped him in disgust. “Fine, don’t tell me. I shall find them, for you will lead the way.”

Apollo grabbed him once again, and took him to Mt. Olympus before the council of gods and the throne of Zeus. Apollo made his case, describing the events that brought them there, declaring Hermes as a liar and a thief before everyone, and Zeus listened. 

But young, little, shameless Hermes denied it all. “Dear father, I have done no wrong here. I’ll be honest. I cannot lie, even if I wanted to. Though I have repeatedly told my dear brother that I have done no wrong, he continues to not believe me, demanding his cattle. I promise an oath before you all my innocence. After all…why, I was only born yesterday!”

All-knowing Zeus, who could see the lies and the trickery, merely laughed at this. There was a cleverness he could use found in his wily son. But that was for another day; first Apollo’s cattle must be found. With gentle chiding, he ordered Hermes to lead the way and with a sigh, he obeyed. Though he tried to deny the evidence of the fire and the deaths of the cattle, he could not. But Hermes was never one without a trump card up his sleeve. 

With winged words, he offered his newly-invented lyre to Apollo, god of music, who relished in the sound and the lyrics he would make. This instrument was worth the fifty cattle he’d lost and settled their differences. In exchange, Apollo even gave him his whip and cattle! So great was the gift. With a pact and an oath, Hermes then became one of the Olympians. He became messenger of the gods, psychopomp between heaven and Hades, patron of thieves and travelers, and inventor of words. 

So his hunger now sated with immortal nectar instead of meat, a god Hermes became. 

So ends the Homeric Hymn to Hermes, but don’t be discouraged now, for there are many stories where Hermes plays a role within Greek mythology. His hymn is merely the story in which Hermes acts as protagonist. 

In truth, there is so much to say about this devious god whose nature is beyond defining in any set terms, but one can often situate Hermes among the Trickster characters so often found in world mythology. The Trickster archetype itself is as old as they come, for they are often the bringers of change within a stalwart world! Although their acts are not always for everyone’s immediate benefit, their actions ultimately result in something completely new for the world! 

For example, when Hermes killed the turtle and strung her up, he invented the lyre, one of the most beloved Greek instruments! While something may have died in the process, it also shows how the Trickster doesn’t destroy just to destroy; rather they destroy in order to create something wholly new. It is a process of rebirth that often comes with their sly ways of destruction, for without breaking something down, nothing new can arise from the ashes. This act of recreation is ultimately what defines the Trickster, and why they are incredibly necessary not just in mythology, but in our world today, for they are the most clever inventors and creative minds out there. Even more, they’re also willing to bend or even break the rules to issue change. Of course, this is but one of many of their traits that Hermes embodies. There are many more. This kind of thinking may even apply to you. 

In truth there is much you can deconstruct from the character of Hermes. Entire books have been written about him as a result (which you can find below should you be curious to learn more about Hermes and yourself). Here I am merely giving you a small taste of the magic of tricksters and Hermes. Hopefully it whets your appetite. 

Along that trail of thought, hunger is another aspect of Tricksters. Hermes, who was once so desirous for meat, transferred his carnivorous hunger into ravenous ambition. In exchange for meat, he demanded something higher for himself–a seat amongst the gods. For the gods are beings beyond the need for flesh and muscle of simple animals, for they are beings that are enthroned and given sacrifice. Furthermore, gods do not eat meat; rather they feast on nectar and ambrosia, and Hermes was well aware of this when he stood before the sacrificial fire, staving off his hunger for something more powerful than simple meat. Perhaps you have similar cravings, hm? If not for meat, then for station or respect or something likewise. 

You may also have a sly tongue, keen for jokes and merriment. Lies and stories may come easily to you, one perhaps more so than the other, but you definitely have a way with words. Charming is perhaps something that others have defined you as, and Hermes is just the same. There is a reason why even as a babe, Hermes was able to charm Zeus, king of the gods, and place himself among the twelve Olympians on Mt. Olympus.

It is good to note, however, that Tricksters, like Hermes, can get caught in their lies and plots, sometimes for good, and sometimes for bad. It depends on your objective. Not everything can go your way, and while ambition can be a virtue, it can also hurt if improperly handled. Jokes and pranks and words can also harm those around you. Not everyone can take a joke as well as you can. Be merry, dear Hermes, but do not forget the kind of tricky sword you wield. 

In the end, dear reader and established Hermes, never forget that your mischief and magic can change the world.