5Sacred Places, Sacred Persons: Religion, Death and Leadership in Roman Iron Age Scandinavia
Sacred Places, Sacred Persons: Religion,
Death and Leadership in Roman Iron Age
Scandinavia1
Jan Šeiner, FF MU, Ústav religionistiky a Ústav archeologie a muzeologie
e-mail: 147022@mail.muni.cz
Abstract
The primary aim of this essay is to try to better understand the ancient Germanic
religious practise and it‘s organization and structure, based on archaeological
evidence. In the introductory part, several approaches to the archaeology of
religion, as well as certain terminological issues are discussed. Next comes
a summary of various types of “sacred sites”, i.e. places where religious activity
took place, and discussion on possible interpretations of such places. The following
part includes discussions on the often neglected connections between religion and
funeral customs, domesticity, productivity, and social and political structures
of the ancient Germanic society. Position of religious performers and elites and
changes in society, reflected in changes in religious practice, is mentioned in the
final pages.
Keywords
Archaeology of Religion, Ancient Germanic Religion, Scandinavia, Roman Iron
Age, Cult, Ritual, Funeral Customs, Sacred Places, Religious Performers
Introduction
The present essay deals with ancient Germanic religion in Scandinavia in
archaeological context, primarily during the Roman Iron Age. It is supposed
to be a preparation and source for a comparative study for a master thesis
concerning archaeological records of ancient Germanic religion during the Roman
Age and Migrations Period in Middle Europe. The main topic are questions on
organization and institutionalization of the practical side of religion, i.e. it‘s cult,
and places associated with it. My aim is an attempt to summarily describe various
archaeological records, often interpreted as sacred sites, and compare some of
the applied interpretations and approaches in order to try to achieve a better
understanding of the “religious situation” in ancient Germanic society. Religious
specialization and leadership are matters of considerable concern as well.
1
Studie vznikla jako seminární práce na Institutionen för arkeologi och antik historia Uppsala
universitet.
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6 Jan Šeiner
Research history
Scholars of religion in the late 19th
and early 20th
century often imagined that
religion originated in “primitive” notions which gradually evolved into more
advanced religious ideas. Ethnographic anthropological research, under the
influence of the new theory of evolution, thus had a great impact on research on
religion. The view of the role and development of religion has since been modified
and become much more complex. For the majority of scholars of religion it became
increasingly clear that religious ideas also interact to different degrees with other
parts of society, though there is a variation in the perception of the role that should
be ascribed to religious experience. Some believe that the real meaning of religious
ideas can only be fully understood by those who nourish them, on the other hand
it is equally possible to regard religion as a fundamental part of being human,
without adopting any stance whatever on what religious experiences really consist
of. A technical and materialistic understanding of and description of life, that
increasingly dominated the Western world-view in the 19th
and 20th
centuries, led to
the replacement of religious representatives by scientific and medical authorities.
Similarly, due to the impact of processual archaeology and it’s epistemology,
it was rare in the second half of the twentieth century that works by Swedish
archaeologists dealt with religion and beliefs. In earlier Swedish archaeology, on
the other hand, there was a keen interest in studies of religion and eschatology
and works from the first half of 20th
century often resemble those of comparative
religion. The reawakened attention seen in recent years (see References), after the
emergence of post-processual streams of thought and the formation of cognitive
archaeology, has had the result that interpretations of ritual, symbolism and
religion have been integrated to a greater or lesser extent in virtually every new
archaeological work, which in turn, unfortunately, has led to a watering down of
the content. The fact that cognitive issues have once again become so popular in
archaeology means that many such studies result in more or less distinct repetitions
of earlier interpretations. Reasons for this are, that interest in the problem among
many scholars is relatively superficial, and that the subject quite simply is trendy
right now; there is also the fact that a steady flow of new publications in the field
means that not even those who are especially interested have time to read them
all (Kaliff 2007: 15–22).
Theoretical problems
Limitations and sources
The first and foremost limitations of this essay are time constrains (and limited
extend stemming from this) and language barrier, allowing me to use only literature
written in English and German. Focusing on a more narrow topic would allow
me a deeper and more thorough analysis and possibly also better understanding
of the studied phenomena, but since I am not that familiar with Scandinavian
archaeology and since this essay is supposed to serve as a comparative material
for a broader image of ancient Germanic religion, the topic here remains quite
general.
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7Sacred Places, Sacred Persons: Religion, Death and Leadership in Roman Iron Age Scandinavia
The archaeological record and its interpretations are the main source of data
used in this essay. Interpretation of archaeological material is often influenced by
the background and approach of the interpreter (see Johnson 1999; Kaliff 2007),
therefore we must be aware of the possibility that we may unwittingly try to ascribe
our biases and misinterpretations to the past reality through the present record.
Written historical sources are used only sparsely here, for there are only few of
them referring directly to the chosen topic. Written sources may often be inaccurate
and biased by culture, ideology and time of the author. However researchers
appear to be more aware of these problems when approaching written sources,
than when approaching “neutral” archaeological sources (see Johnson 1999).
A reinterpretation of a known written misinterpretation is at least as plausible
as a possible brand new and unconscious misinterpretation of an archaeological
record.
Ethnographic evidence, analogies and homologies are often used in the study
of religions (see Johnson 1999; Kaliff 2007; Renfrew 1994). These are fine as long
as the compared contexts have at least something in common and as long as there
is the awareness that a similarity in appearance does not necessary indicate
similarity in meaning. Comparisons with different cultures should broaden our
horizon and allow us to look at the problem from different perspectives, not replace
our own biases with those of another culture. Phenomenology in particular, trying
to compare world-wide occuring concepts and ideas in a generalizing manner is at
serious risk of misinterpreting local evidence by taking it out of its contexts.
Linguistic evidence, in the form of theoforic place names or name elements
indicating significance, power or “holiness”, has proved to be useful indicator of
sacred places (see Brink 2001). Although exact dating of the time span in which the
place actually had a religious significance, is problematic before an archaeological
inquiry takes place, these places often show a long continuity of use for ritualized
activities.
Definitions and interpretations
A sacred site (leaving the problematic definition of “sacred” itself aside) could
be easily defined as a place of religious significance to a certain group of people
or a place where religious practice is performed. Transferring this definition into
archaeological practice and the context of past religious systems, however, is
more problematic. Interpretation as a sacred site has usually been ascribed only
to places of special appearance and/or setting, accompanied by unusual set of
artefacts or human or animal bones, and even then, more “secular” interpretations
could compete with it (for some ideas regarding Scandinavian sacred places in
general see Brink 2001: 76–90). Part of this problem might be, as the archaeologist
Anders Kaliff pointed out, that the same term is often used both as an operative
term and an interpretation of a phenomenon (Kaliff 2007: 27). Grave is one such
term, for our modern concept of grave in itself has an emotional content, and we
may be unconsciously tempted to perceive the way prehistoric people viewed burial
rituals (a problematic term itself) as being like our own (Kaliff 2005; Kaliff 2007:
28; see also Artelius 2005: 8–10).
Another part of the same problem is, that in our secular society, with it’s
modern world-view, we tend to see “sacred” and “profane” meanings and functions
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8 Jan Šeiner
of objects or places as separate, therefore a building with an obviously practical,
“profane” function, such as granary or storehouse, cannot be considered “sacred”
at the same time. The English archaeologist Richard Bradley has criticised the
trend of separating ritual and domesticity (in the same way as sacred and profane),
setting them into opposition and treating their overlaps as a problem, rather than
a clue to the origin and nature of many of the rituals undertaken in prehistoric
society (Bradley 2005: xiii, 28–36).
In order to better deal with such issues, I wrote down a list of several terms
connected with archaeology of religion and their definitions. The following
definitions are based on (but are not exact citations of) definitions provided in
the Oxford English Dictionary <http://www.oed.com/>. I chose this “disciplinarily
neutral” source consciously in an attempt to avoid biases stemming from the use
of definitions of archaeologists and scientists of religion, which are, in addition,
sometimes varied or not generally agreed upon (in science of religion especially).
This may prove to be a step in the wrong direction, but I believe it may help us to
deal better with the likely differences between the conceptual grasping of reality
in our time and culture and in the past.
Sacred
Sacred: something esteemed especially dear or acceptable to a deity; exclusively
appropriated to some person or some special purpose; set apart for or dedicated
to some religious purpose, and hence entitled to veneration or religious respect;
made holy by association with a god or other object of worship; secured by religious
sentiment, reverence, sense of justice, or the like, against violation, infringement, or
encroachment, having a religiously secured immunity from violence or attachment,
not to be lightly intruded upon or handled; things consecrated or offered in sacrifice
to the gods.
All these definitions more or less reflect the (supposed) original Latin meaning of
something associated with the gods and therefore set aside from common mortals.
There is no place to discuss whether this is truly the same meaning as the Romans
understood the term or to contribute in any other way to the extensive debate over
the theory and definition of the sacred. Still there are some problems that should
be noted.
Firstly, there is a question whether the Germanic people of the Roman Iron Age
had an equivalent concept to the Latin sacred, or whether they adopted it later
through Christian missions. There probably was a concept of “holy” (heilagr) in the
sense of “imbued with power through association with divinity”, this power could
then be used instrumentally in legal sphere or stimulated by rituals (Brink 2001:
87).
Secondly, even if this “setting apart” was present in the ancient Germanic mind,
it‘s identification in archaeological context is debatable (Kaliff 2001). “Sacredness”
is not a physical attribute and does not have to manifest materially (although it
often does); physical separation in space does not have to denote sacred nature
and vice versa, as pointed out by Bradley using the example of Viereckschanzen
(Bradley 2005: 19–21).
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9Sacred Places, Sacred Persons: Religion, Death and Leadership in Roman Iron Age Scandinavia
Rituals and ritualization
Ritual or rite in general: a series of actions compulsively performed under
certain circumstances, the non-performance of which results in tension and anxiety;
a formal procedure or act in a solemn observance; any form of repetitive behavior,
which is fixed by tradition, a custom of practice of a formal kind. Religious ritual
is a prescribed order of performing religious or other devotional service ceremonial
acts; common to these is a conviction that what is being done on earth approximates
the divine or supernaturally revealed order.
Ritual is viewed as a specialised form of behaviour which emphasises some of
the concerns of daily life through a kind of performance (Bradley 2005: xiii). In
the past the significance of ritual and ritualization used to be neglected by various
scholars, nowadays however it seems to be clear, that ritualized behaviour is
a fundamental part of human culture. Rituals, religious or not, may reflect the
structure of the society that established and performed them and thus may help us
(even without precise knowledge of religious beliefs, ideology or world-view behind
them) in better understanding of the past (Bradley 2005: 3; Kaliff 2007: 20).
Colin Renfrew has created a list of 16 archaeological indicators of ritual, which
may be helpful in recognizing traces of ritual behaviour in archaeological record
(Renfrew 1994: 47–54). What is important here is, that these are indicators, not
criteria, and many of them contain the word “may”, that means a ritual might have
taken place without leaving any of these indicators apparent in archaeological
material. It should also be stated, that some of these indicators may reflect rituals,
which in our contemporary world-view are not regarded (primarily) as religious
in nature (honouring a guest, sealing a treaty, celebration of military, political or
other achievement, banquet of a chief and his retinue, etc.), but which contained
closer ties with religion in the past.
More important for Renfrew, however, is the documentation of repeated actions
of symbolic nature, directed towards transcendent forces. By this, he tries to counter
the prevailing attitude to ascribe ritual function only to residual material when
there is no better explanation, while noticing some difficulties of distinction between
ritual and activities leaving similar archaeological record (play for example). While
his statement that separate setting and special distinctive manner of actions are
important for detection by archaeologists is true, his claim that these activities
are mostly formalized, carefully prescribed and often take place in special places
should not be overemphasised (Renfrew 1994: 47–54). Ritual interpretation should
not exclude “informal” or improvised activities performed at “common” places, for it
seems that religious rituals have been more closely connected with “profane” daily
life, than is usually believed. In societies, called “genuinely religious” by Kaliff,
religion is the very explanatory model for reality and no distinction in principle
is made between what we in our culture would define as a ritual or a functional
fact (Kaliff 2007: 21, 28–29). Also the concept of ritual as expressing fundamental
propositions about the world and strongly associated with religious belief is now
overshadowed by emphasis on the formality of the procedure and the performance
itself. “What matters is not to adhere to a strict set of procedures, but that they
should “work”; this may override the need to believe in the message of a specific
ritual, it is participation and commitment that count far more” (Bradley 2005: 33).
More emphasis is also added on the practice of ritualization: a process by which
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10 Jan Šeiner
certain actions gain an added emphasis through particular kinds of performance.
It should be understood more as a form of action or social strategy, rather than
a specialised kind of communication (Bradley 2005: 32–35).
Sacrifice and offering
Sacrifice: primarily, the slaughter of an animal (or a living being in general) as
an offering to a deity; in wider sense, the surrender to a deity, for the purpose of
propitiation or homage, of some object of possession.
Offering: the presenting of something to a deity in worship or devotion; an act
of sacrifice or oblation; the act of making something available; a thing given as an
expression of religious homage.
These two terms have a similar meaning, the main difference is that sacrifice
demands surrendering of one‘s own possession, or something valuable to the giver
while offering does not, which makes it a more general term. This difference is often
forgotten and sacrifice and offering are mostly used interchangeably, especially by
non-English authors (see for example Larsson 2005: 115; also in Czech one term –
oběť – is used for both “offering” and “sacrifice” as well as “victim”, “sacrifice” being
probably the closest in meaning). And here lies the problem; war-booty hoards
like the ones from Illerup or Nydam could be regarded more as an offering rather
than a sacrifice, but the dividing line in other situations is harder to spot; giving
away an individual‘s property is “sacrifice”, but is “sacrifice” giving the property of
a deceased person, or something considered to belong to the whole community? Is
killing of a human for religious purpose a sacrifice or an offering? This unclarity
makes use of these terms and differentiating between them difficult, therefore
I will in this context use only one of them – offering, because of it‘s more general
nature (according to the definition above) and less emotional connotations (see also
Kaliff 2007: 28).
Still there are other, more important problems concerning offerings in
archaeology. Foremostly the recognition and identification of an “offering”. There
are some useful indicators, like intentional destruction of the offerings, deposition
in an irretrievable manner or on hardly accessible places, on sites demonstrably
used for religious activities etc. (on the problem of food offerings in ancestral cult,
which may leave little or no archaeological record at all see Gräslund 2001). Some
forms of “offerings” will be further discussed below.
Graves and funeral
Grave: a place of burial; an excavation in the earth for the reception of a corpse;
the natural destination or final resting-place of everyone; anything that is, or may
become, the receptacle of what is dead.
When speaking about grave, it‘s contents is what counts, i.e. the deposited
remains of dead body (whole or partial), not it‘s form. Grave should be used as
a descriptive term indicating the presence of human remains, regardless of their
amount, condition or they way in which they were deposited (similarly, animal
remains could be designated as animal grave, but without the clear distinction
between “grave” and “funeral” its use in practice would probably be very
confusing).
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11Sacred Places, Sacred Persons: Religion, Death and Leadership in Roman Iron Age Scandinavia
Burial: the depositing of anything under earth or water, or enclosing it in some
other substance.
Funeral: the ceremonies connected with the burial (or cremation, etc.) of the
body of a dead person; obsequies; a burial (or its equivalent) with the attendant
observances.
These two words are often used in an interchangeable manner (see also Kaliff
2007), however, in my opinion, the term burial should be used only for the deposition
(or the manner of deposition) itself; funeral or funerary rites form the “religious”
or “ritual” part of the treatment of the deceased. This includes the construction of
a mound, stone structure or any other adjustments to the form of the grave as well
as scattering of cremated remains into air, water or a cairn, or dismembering the
body into several parts which are then buried separately. Human remains that
bear no traces of human interference and are buried “naturally”, for example due
to an accident or natural disaster, could be considered a grave without funeral. On
the other hand a cenotaph is a funeral without burial, therefore not a grave. The
separation of “funeral” rites from “other” or “religious” rites is to a great degree,
if not completely, ungrounded; this will be further discussed below. Also, the use
of grave or any other place for funeral does not exclude performance of different
practices or actions on the same place.
Altars, Shrines and Temples
Altar: raised structure, on which to place or sacrifice offerings to a deity; a place
consecrated to devotional observances.
Therefore a place where offerings, rites and worship took place, probably
close to dwellings or contact places (shrines and temples) of deities and spiritual
forces (the objects of the cult) and central in importance for cultic activity; still
this does not indicate that they should be in nature different or separated from
their surroundings. The restrictive description of altar as a “raised structure” or
elevated surface in this definition is false, for the same function, purpose, meaning
and importance may be ascribed to any object, whose form suits the needs of the
specific religious practice. The use of terms “altar” and “shrine” should not be
considered as misleading because of our culture associating them with Christianity
(see Kaliff 2007: 118; Widholm 2006: 146; in fact the word “liturgy” Widholm uses
for example on p. 56 or 145 is even more associated with Christianity), but because
of their definitions, being constructed to fit in the context of institutionalised
monotheism, do not fit when transferred into the context of other religions and
they begin to overlap. Suddenly, a sacred tree may become an altar, a shrine or
both, or something completely different and it is hard to differentiate between
them. Still, as long as the meaning is roughly the same, any of these terms will
have to do.
Shrine: a receptacle containing an object of religious veneration; a place where
worship is offered or devotions are paid to a saint or deity.
As stated above, the distinction between altars, shrines and temples in ancient
Germanic religion is unclear. In this sense the dwelling of a deity or a spirit may be
also considered a shrine, therefore certain natural objects, graves, mounds, even
buildings believed to be dwellings of spirits or deities may be regarded as shrines.
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12 Jan Šeiner
Temple: an edifice or place regarded primarily as the dwelling-place or “house”
of a deity or deities; hence, an edifice devoted to divine worship; any place regarded
as occupied by the divine presence.
This is again a very broad definition that would include in fact all ancient
Germanic sacred sites, be they of “artificial” or “natural” origin; it is quite possible
that in this sense, for the ancient Germanic people, the whole world would be
a “temple”. However the term “temple” is usually used in a restrictive meaning of
an edifice, building constructed specifically for the purpose of worship or religious
activity. To avoid confusion and separate “temples” from “sacred groves, sacred
lakes, “sacred” granaries, shrines etc.”, I will adhere to the traditional meaning of
a special building constructed for religious purposes only (or first and foremostly).
Since there is little evidence of any buildings that would actually fit this definition
(most “graveless monuments” cannot be considered edifices or occupiable buildings,
while Late Iron Age hall buildings served also for “non-religious” purposes;
certain objects are often interpreted as “cult houses” and as such could possibly
be considered “temples”, though this is still an ongoing debate), I would personally
stick to Tacitus‘ statement, that the Germanic people (in the Roman Iron Age) had
no temples as such (Tacitus: Germania 9; see also Widholm 2006: 132–133).
Sacred places
Sacred stones and rocks
Stone embodies hardness and eternity, which makes it symbolically (as well as
practically) appropriate for graves and other monuments, representing the aspect
of immortality. Stone is thus often regarded as containing spiritual properties and
as means of communication with the numinous.
A very common aspect of the ancestor cult in several Indo-European traditions
is the phallic symbolism, where the origin of life and death were believed to be
interconnected principles inherent in the stone. Greek Hermes was worshipped
also as a stone phallus and Bronze and Iron Age standing stones are sometimes
regarded as his Scandinavian equivalent (Ericsson 2005, in Kaliff 2007: 175–176).
Phallus shaped stones seem to be more common in Norway, known as the “holy
white stones”, found on Early Iron Age graves in Trřndelag and Vestlandet. More
common in Sweden are standing stone slabs on burial grounds; probably memorial
monuments similar to runestones, but their eschatological function is unknown.
Exemplary is Rögubben – a red painted stone slab near a farm called Rösten (red
stone), linked by local tradition with fertility cult (Brink 2001: 90–92; Kaliff 2007:
176).
The male stone and female arable land may be seen as a form of hieros gamos
(holy matrimony), but the stone may be connected also with the female sphere and
with the cult of the dead. Fertility cult of stones, seen as power centres inhabited
by gods, has been documented from different regions (and banned by Christianity).
Under such stones, placed near farms, protective spirits, such as the gårdstomte,
should live. In Iceland even today wights and elves live in special stones. On some
cemeteries (Klinga in Östergötland, Ringeby, grave and enclosure at Odensala
Rectory) various amounts of stone were transported and piled up to “improve” the
local rock areas. Bauta stones were also transferred from one place to another and
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13Sacred Places, Sacred Persons: Religion, Death and Leadership in Roman Iron Age Scandinavia
sometimes made a part of a larger structure, probably because of their supposed
power (Brink 2001: 91; Kaliff 2007: 176–177, Widholm 2006: 104–112).
According to Kaliff (2007: 121–124, 180–185) rock and stone also had a special
connection to fire. Generated by stroking of stones, fire is constantly present in
stone in a “frozen” form. Thus stone may have been a burnt offering in itself, or
the deceased could be united with the stone through ritual splitting or incineration
and take up residence in it.
Another way how to communicate with powers concealed in mountains, earth
and stones, might be by penetrating the ground and carving images on the rock or
through fire-drilling in cup marks (Kaliff 2007: 181–184).
Sacred mountains
Certain mountains, especially those of remarkable appearance or height, were
probably believed to be “animated” in the same way as stones, trees or mounds;
inhabited by ancestor spirits as “mountains of the dead”. In the Eyrbyggja saga
one such mountain (called fell in Iceland) appears: the Helgafell – “holy mountain”,
was named by the first settler Þórólfr Nostrarskegg, who believed that he and his
kinsmen would go into the mountain when they died. Mountains of this character
are often located in the vicinity of a farm (just like mounds or standing stones), also
grave-fields are commonly located on mountains or ridges. Natural hills may be
used as graves as well, only in areas, where there are no hills near communications,
an artificial mound has to be built. A similar idea appears to be present in Sámi
tradition as well and is probably of very old origin. The “holy islands” named Helgö
or Helgøy might have been understood in similar context. Some mountains also
functioned as axis mundi, the world axis connecting heaven and earth (Aspeborg
2005; Brink 2001: 99–100; Kaliff 2007: 177; Larsson 2005).
Sacred islands
Some islands, like Selaön in Södermanland, have many prehistoric theoforic
settlement-names or names like Lytislunda – “grove of Lytir” (probably a term for
pagan cult reader). Other islands‘ names contain theoforic elements themselves,
such as Frösö and Norderö in lake Storsjön. The “holy” islands (Helgö, Helgøy
etc.) may be understood as places, where gods were supposed to dwell or one could
get into closer contact with them; in context with the cult of ancestors they could
also be regarded as homes of dead relatives. Examples: Helgö (Storjungfrun) in
Hälsingland, Enhälga in Uppland (former island neighbouring to thing assembly
place – Öbolund, and a hamlet called Gĺde – “island of gods”, probably original
name of the island), Helgö in Frösunda parish (originally Torsholma – island of
Thor) (Brink 2001: 92–96).
Sacred waters
Bogs, lakes, springs and riverbeds are common locations of many sacral
deposits, not only in Scandinavia. Throughout the Iron Age various sets of items
were deposited: weapons and war booty on famous sites like Thorsbjerg, Vimose,
Nydam, Kragehul, Illerup, Ejsbøl or Skedemosse; cauldron from Gundestrup or
wagon from Dejbjerg. Others contained more commonplace artefacts, but were
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14 Jan Šeiner
used for very long periods like Röekillorna in Skåne or Tissø (Lake of Týr) on
Zealand, with a nearby seat of Late Iron Age Danish chieftain with hall building
and craftsmen‘s area; similar situation represents the “royal seat” at Gudme
on Fyn, probably a regal, economic and religious centre. There are lakes “of the
gods” as well, like Gussjö in Västmanland, while the river Gudĺin Norway may be
interpreted as “holy river, consecrated to the gods” (Brink 2001: 96–98; Christensen
2003; Kaul 2003).
Some of these places contained human bones or more preserved human bodies,
like Borremose, Tollund or Grauballe. While their interpretation as offerings
or executed criminals (or both at the same time) is still under discussion, their
deposition probably involved an awareness of the “supernatural” (Bradley 2005:
81–82; Glob 1971).
Underwater deposits belong to a very old tradition, dating back to Stone Age,
culminating in Bronze and Iron Age and to some extend still alive today; the well
known contemporary example, tossing of coins into wells and fountains, still
sustained a tinge of magic in it‘s purpose – to bring luck. The connection between
sheets of water and the “other” world appears in many cultures across the whole
world; the origin of these ideas remains uncertain. Although it could be the simple
fact, that humans and most of the land animals cannot live and breath underwater
and vice versa, the matter is likely to be more complicated, for water is essential
for life and growth and the contact with the other side (by offerings or otherwise)
through water could just be another part of the life-death-rebirth cycle discussed
further below. This connection is supported by depositions of ards and ploughs,
which Bradley connects with ritual spring ploughing, or by the location of these
places close to settlements. It seems there were only territorial or social reasons
when selecting a lake or bog for ritual purposes and that they were often used for
very long time (Christensen 2003; Kaul 2003).
Some of the deposited artefacts were only partial, unfinished goods, probably
intended as offerings from the beginning, others were worn-out beyond usability
(Bradley 2005: 82–85) or intentionally destroyed (mostly weapons), their fragments
sometimes scattered. This might be interpreted as part of the “sending to the other
side” (though the deposition itself might be enough), but it could also be connected
to the idea, that total destruction of an object is needed for it to be created anew,
as discussed by Kaliff (Kaliff 2007). In his work the possible use of water for burial
rituals as well as it‘s significance as an element (for example in connection with
rock art and ritual sites) is also discussed.
Sacred trees, groves and forests
A sacred tree may be an abode of spirits, ancestors or deities or posses beneficial
qualities; as a symbol it may be embodiment of a life principle and bearer of
divine power. The world tree is a common form of the axis mundi appearing in
many traditions. The ash Yggdrasil from Norse mythology and the Saxon pillar
Irminsul both refer to this concept. As the world tree is the axis mundi of the
macrocosmos, where gods assembled for thing, it’s microcosmic equivalent is the
vårdträd (Norwegian tuntre), a tree planted in the courtyard of a farm, usually oak
or other deciduous tree: ash, rowan, lime, maple or birch; some of them still exist.
Some placenames containing a tree element may refer to a sacred tree, such as Eik
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15Sacred Places, Sacred Persons: Religion, Death and Leadership in Roman Iron Age Scandinavia
in Sogndal vicarige, Eig in Lund and Eig in Bjerkreim. Also some theoforic names,
like Fröseke, Onsike or Hälke, denote “grove” in their second element, usually oak
grove – eke, probably considered as sacred in early Scandinavia. Beech tree might
occur in these names too as –böke– grove of beechtrees. A whole forest may be
named after the gods, as is the case of Tiveden on borders between Västergötland
and Närke, a deep forest far away from the open settled land and charged with
metaphysical beliefs (Brink 2001: 98–100).
The fact that the world tree motif is present in the neighbouring Saami, as well
as in other circumpolar religious traditions has been discussed in context with the
Northern mind concept by Neil Price (Price 2002: 290–293). Similar comparisons,
made between the cult of Horgalles, represented by wooden pillars crowned by
iron nails, and the cult of Thor, represented in similar fashion, were made by Åke
Hultkrantz (Hultkrantz 2001: 417).
The sacredness of trees might have been reflected in burial customs as well:
oak coffins from Bronze Age barrows, wood and bark containers in later cremation
graves and oak log coffins from the Iron Age may originate in similar ideas (Kaliff
2007: 125–126).
Graves and “grave structures”
As mentioned earlier, the modern archaeological conception of grave is one of
the most problematic and therefore this work is more focused in this direction.
Especially when the connection of “graves” and “grave structures” with ritual and
domestic fertility cult comes into discussion.
For example Dag Widholm, in his Sacred sites (Widholm 2006), deals with
possible reasons for constructing monuments of different shapes in Bronze and
Iron Age Scandinavia. In his opinion circular mounds, cairns and stone settings
are the mainstream form of grave structure (with long continuity), while other
monuments which deviate from the circular shape – rectangular, triangular and
oval stone settings and stone ships, etc. – are connected with graves of aristocracy
or significant people, unusual burial customs or non-funeral function etc.
Especially rectangular constructions contained some wealthy graves, often with
weapons, and represented certain power (exclusive graves for the highest elite),
which however was not reserved solely for funerals; they had generally religious
significance and purpose (Widholm 2006: 23–86, 142). He realizes that in many
of these constructions there were only very few (or none at all; see also Aspeborg
2005; Häringe Frisberg 2005) human bones, and he admits that they may have had
a different primary function, than that of a place for burial of human remains, such
as altars, shrines, cult buildings or simply sites where religious rituals took place;
in some cases he favours this interpretation (Ekaryd, Ringeby, Disa’s Ting, etc.).
Still, throughout the book he mostly refers to all these constructions generally as
“graves” or “grave structures”, regardless of their shape or whether there really
were any human remains buried inside. This seems a bit confusing to me, since
it appears that the interpretation of these constructions is based on the premise
that they should be regarded as graves, unless proven otherwise. This premise,
however is not explicitly stated anywhere in the book, nor is there any explicit
definition or criteria for “grave” or “grave structure”.
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16 Jan Šeiner
“It is not necessary to regard all constructions on a grave field as graves, even
if they might contain remains of human skeletons [...]. However this is not
the essential factor that needs interpretation. What needs interpretation is
the ancient function of a construction which was not primarily regarded as
a grave in prehistoric time, even if men and society were aware of the presence
of cremated bones [...] [C]hristian churches are not primarily regarded as
graves, even when they contain human remains.” (Widholm 2006: 55).
The problem, as I see it, is that what was primarily regarded as grave in
prehistoric time is not discussed here thoroughly. Is the circular shape really
more important than the presence of deposited human remains? Since he uses this
term also for standing stones it seems to me that he tries to denote as “graves”
all stone-formed monuments that were believed to contain at least some part of
the “soul” or “spirit” of the deceased ancestors. This may be a good way how to
better understand the concept of funeral monuments in prehistoric societies and
be aware of it’s differences from contemporary view of graves, but nothing like this
is stated nor discussed anywhere in the text; it also shows that new terminology
or at least redefinition and consolidation of the old one may be needed in order to
truly increase our knowledge of the past.
Maybe a too much reliance on the sacred/profane duality and separation might
be another problem of his work (Widholm 2006: 82–83, 100, 123–127, 134, 139–
142), and the claim that the need to separate the living from the dead is “universal”
human trait (123) is, in my opinion, far from the truth. Of course the enclosures,
kerbstones, “fences” etc. prove, that there was a certain level of separation and
distinction, but all those settlement graves and traces of ritual activity in otherwise
“profane” context, suggest that this separation was not that strict or universal; in
fact this separation might have been based on social status or family relationships
of the buried, rather than on the fact that they were dead. Also when it comes to
the notion that a piece of land was consecrated for funeral purpose (125), I am
more inclined towards the possibility that human remains were deposited on these
places, because they already were sacred (Kaliff 2007: 80). That would explain why
there are many cairns without traces of a central grave (Häringe Frisberg 2005;
Widholm 2006: 55) – because there never was any. Whether graves were placed on
certain sites because of it’s significance or whether the graves themselves created
this significance might be just another chicken and egg dilemma.
An alternative interpretation of stone settings, often identified as graves, is
presented by Anders Kaliff in his work Fire, Water, Heaven and Earth (Kaliff 2007).
Here he uses the comparison with vedic rituals and analogical practices in other
Indo-European cultures as a basis for reinterpretation of various archaeological
records in a broader context of common mythological and conceptual roots of the
Indo-European cultures. Certain similarities between the compared data indicate,
that there probably was a complex ideological system, partially shared by most
Indo-European cultures and significantly different from our own contemporary
world-view, employed in the performance of the most essential (ritualized)
activities (including funeral), connecting them together, rather than separating.
Although the attempted reconstruction of this ideological system and the measure
of it’s affinity to the vedic tradition is hardly provable, this approach allows more
plausible interpretations regarding records of past religious activity. Personally
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17Sacred Places, Sacred Persons: Religion, Death and Leadership in Roman Iron Age Scandinavia
I believe even a far-fetched theory may be more valuable for better understanding
of the past, than holding onto established stereotypes and as Kaliff stated, the lack
of a conscious analogy is a bad analogy in itself (Kaliff 2007: 35, 133).
Here follows a summary of some of the ideas presented in Kaliff‘s work. Certain
forms of stone settings show a strong resemblance to altars in some of the compared
traditions (many of these originally appeared in the form of a real grave), which
appear in various shapes for different purposes, mostly fire sacrifices. Because of
our modern concept of grave, we failed to see it‘s significance for rituals (fire rituals
especially) and communication with the dead and the divine through offerings.
The form of the grave and funeral reflects collective imagination of what happens
after death and the individual identity and position of the deceased. The current
distancing of ourselves from death prevents us from being aware of possible varied
functions of different “grave forms” and the view of death as a continuous process
rather than sudden event. Particularly square stone settings often lack traces of
burial and could be interpreted as altars; also the so-called burnt mounds were
probably complex altar structures with indications of “sacrificial” activity as well
as many other remarkable structures (Ekaryd, Igelstaberget, Ringeby, Skelhřj,
Sneden). The presence of the ancestors cult on settlements and farms in Norway,
with the grave as the most important cult site, has been previously discussed by
E. Birkeli (Kaliff 2007: 83), and reflection of this cult could, until recently, be still
seen in certain folk traditions. (Kaliff 2007: 73–84, 103–119, 124–125).
Evidence of bone cutting, defleshing and dismemberment on human bones
(usually interpreted as anthropophagy) as well as the burial of only a part of the
cremated bones in graves may be a reflection of the cosmogonical myth, where the
world is created from separated body parts of the first being (human or animal).
The purpose for “repeating the first cosmogonical sacrifice” might had been the
need to sustain the universal order by restoring elements or encourage fertility
by releasing “life energy” through destruction of the body. Other reason for this
could be a need to release the soul from the body or the notion of multiple “souls”
which are separated with the body, each with a different fate or function after
death; similarly the remains of a distinguished person believed to posses special
powers could be separated in order to distribute this power over a larger area.
According to the concept of composite soul, a part of the deceased remained in this
world as a “mound dweller” (álfar), or a guardian of a settlement, farm (gardvor) or
other specific place (landdísir, landvaettir). In folklore the elves used cup marks as
“älvkvarnar”, elf-mills, where their corn (burnt bone?) was ground to fertilize the
soil; the dead were in control of the (re)generative powers of earth (Aspeborg 2005;
Häringe Frisberg 2005; Kaliff 2007: 187–194).
This idea is attested in later written sources (Ellis 1943: 121–150; Price 2002:
54–60) and is a sound explanation for the separated burials of various body
parts. Strong links to ancestor cult and domestic fertility cult are apparent here.
The destruction of the body could be intended as a “sacrifice” (offering) in itself,
returning of the constituents to the divine powers and the continuous cycle of life,
death and rebirth. Reburials, secondary opening of graves and “grave-robbing” may
be manifestations of the same tradition and part of a ritual process of a controlled
destruction of the human body. Querns and rubber stones are often found in or near
graves and might have been used for grinding cremated bones into fine fragments,
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18 Jan Šeiner
a transformative activity similar to grinding grain connecting the dead to fertility
cult and an idea of cyclical rebirth (regrowth); the same treatment is provided for
body and harvest (apparent in Scandinavian and some neighbouring lands‘ folk
traditions – simply put, cremated human corpse appears to be the best fertilizer).
The rubber stones could also represent bread, historically attested grave “gift” and
offering for the dead; the same would count for grave orbs (see Gräslund 2001).
Human bones also appear on settlements, in pits, wells and houses, these may be
regarded as offerings in the same way as stated above and as the animal bones
found in similar context, or simply as graves, where the spirit of the dead (or one of
it‘s parts) is supposed to dwell where the bones are deposited and protect or bring
prosperity to the surrounding settlement (Apalle, Odenslunda, Hulje). “Human
depositions” in wells are similar in principle to those in wetlands, lakes and
rivers, which was probably a widespread tradition (Ringeby). It is a well-known
fact that the number of found human remains do not correspond to the estimated
total number of living individuals in the Early iron Age, therefore an untraceable
destruction of the body must have been performed to some extend (Aspeborg 2005;
Häringe Frisberg 2005; Kaliff 2007: 69–70, 87–98, 137–173).
The placing of graves and grave-fields (including graveless monuments) also
seems to be an interesting matter (exemplary grave-fields mentioned here are:
Fullerö, Snĺret, Vallby, Älby and the Forsa mound-like natural hill). As stated
above, they often appear on elevated ground or take on the form of a hill themselves.
Natural formations are sometimes “improved” by adding material; in folk tradition,
each stone added to a cairn increases its power (or the power of its inhabitant). Other
typical placing is in transitional areas, prominent promontories or peninsulas near
rivers or roads, often on boundaries between districts or between (present-day)
arable lands and forests, close to a nearby settlement. Sometimes it is difficult to
draw a physical line between the grave-field and the settlement. This positioning
close to the living or on borders, and as much visible as possible (although some of
the preserved graves are quite unremarkable today), defines the grave-fields and
monuments as symbolic images and landmarks with judicial function as evidence
of ownership. Claiming allegiance to the dead meant rights to the land, guarded
by them; the monuments were an expression of power relations and descent and
might have been the target of intentional and declarative destruction with the
introduction of a new order (Aspeborg 2005; Häringe Frisberg 2005; Kaliff 2007:
178–180).
Hoards and offerings
Since we can not know the actual intentions and thoughts of the past people,
offering will always be a tricky interpretation (see section Sacrifice and Offering).
With all the unfamiliar (for us) ideas, that seem to have been present in the ancient
Germanic world-view, there is no telling how their own concept of the “offering”
actually looked like and how and to what extent was it interconnected with other
ideas. With the recent admittance that even “common” finds like animal bones,
“waste” deposits, grave goods, even buried human bodies might have been intended
as offerings, we cannot really tell, where does an offering end and something else
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19Sacred Places, Sacred Persons: Religion, Death and Leadership in Roman Iron Age Scandinavia
begins; most likely the concept itself, if it was even clearly defined, was significantly
overlapping with others.
When it comes to human remains, there is really no definite dividing line;
preserved bodies from bogs (Skedemosse, Elling, Windeby in Germany, etc.) are
most likely to have been primarily intended as offerings, but what about all those
divided, scattered or completely destroyed bodies, human bones found in layers
or “waste” pits, deposited in, under or near buildings, even those buried in an
“ordinary” fashion (see also section Graves and “grave structures”)?
Ritual killing of animals is often followed by their consumption and in Roman
Iron Age finds animal bones often appear in contexts, which, if not support, then
at least do not exclude ritual killing. In my opinion even when consumption of the
animal was the primary purpose of its slaughter, this was performed in a ritualized
way and served the purpose of an offering as well. Bones belonging to animals not
bred primarily as food source, like dogs or horses, are most likely to be connected
with offerings (see Kaliff 2001: 451–454; Kaliff 2007; Larsson 2005; Sigvallius
2005).
Grave goods often went through the same process and ritual as the body with
which they were deposited and are often interpreted as an offering. Whether this
was aimed at the deceased, or along with him at some higher power, or whether
it was an offering at all is hard to say, though the destruction through breaking
or cremation indicates an attempt to send the items into a different sphere of
existence (see Hedeager 1992; Kaliff 2007: 84; 167–170).
The number of hoard-finds from the Roman Iron Age is quite limited. Apart
from the famous weapon deposits (for a review of hoards from Gudme, Nydam
and Fallward in a military and politico-ideological context see Fischer 2005: 113–
116) found in bogs and lakes (mentioned above) there are only few hoards from
this period, while most of the prestigious goods are found in graves. Other forms
of depositing, usually marked as “waste” or “settlement layers”, are now being
reconsidered as possible offerings, but the distinction may never be absolutely
clear (see Hedeager 1992; Kaliff 2007).
With the transition into the Migrations Period the situation changes and hoards
appear again, but the role of watery environment is weakened in favour of dry lands,
often in relation with settlements and chieftains‘ halls. Svante Fischer classified
gold hoards from Gästrikland, Södermanland and Uppland into 6 groups and
considers groups 1 and 2 (Tuna, Fagernäs, Skarpan) to have “royal and religious
power”, group 2 is described as “collective or temple treasures” (Fischer 2005:
156–157). He claims that it is gold now, that carries meaning and importance, not
specific artefacts (like the Roman imported goods did before; for his analysis of the
Germanic reaction to Roman imperialism and changes in hoarding and rituals
see: Fischer 2005; see also section Continuity and change; Hedeager 1992; Kaul
2003).
Settlements, fields and sacred districts
Names and terms
The separation of sacred areas from domestic environment seems to be incorrect
according to current research. Fields and dwellings could have been, for the ancient
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20 Jan Šeiner
people, as “sacred” as any spectacular mound, rock or bog; these places also had
their spirits – elves and landvaettir of the later textual sources. These were believed
to dwell in stones, groves, caves, hills and waterfalls, but their goal was to guard
the land and the fields, their well-being was essential for the prosperity of the
settlement. In order to make the land more “holy”, certain rituals were performed.
A textual description of an Icelandic ritual, when claiming new land for farming,
includes marking the boundaries of the land with fires and shooting a burning
arrow over it. By doing this the land was sanctified and became the property of the
performer. Some rituals and rules were probably also involved in the cultivation
of the field and to ensure good harvest particular deities might have been invoked,
as is indicated by many theoforic names including the element –akr (arable land),
frequently Thorsakir, also Odhinsakir, Frøsakir or Ullarakir. Several such place
names denoted hundreds or parishes, these sites were probably important cult
places for a settlement district, which may give us perspective on the organisation
of cult practices for a large congregation or district, probably performed annually
during the Late Iron Age in Scandinavia. It seems that Christian Church took over
many of these rituals and transformed them into field processions to bless the seed
and pray for good harvest (Brink 2001: 101–103).
Some district names begin with the name of a god, mostly Freyr, like Fröstolft in
Uppland, which probably reflect a special position of the deity either as especially
worshipped or as the district‘s protector. The situation in Onsjö hundred (Skåne)
may indicate that the whole district was dedicated to Odin due to the existence of
a cult place of regional importance.
As for terms denoting cultic places in particular, there are three from the prechristian
written evidence: Old Norse vé, hörgr and hof. Vé is defined as holy place,
sanctuary, in poems as dwelling of gods, these were the “true” cultic places. Hof
was probably a cult site and chieftain’s farm in Late Iron Age (farm, mound and
sacred site at one place, see Gräslund 2001: 224). Hörgr was originally a rock or
stone assemblage, later a structure from stone or wood – an altar. An offering to
Freya at a hörgr was described in Hyndluljóð, where blood of the killed animal
was poured on a pile of stones; burnt mounds and certain stone settings could fit
this description (Apalle in Uppland; Kaliff 2007: 112–113; see also Kaliff 2001:
457–458).
Rituals and productivity
Some problems concerning rituals and domesticity were described by R. Bradley
in Ritual and domestic life in prehistoric Europe (Bradley 2005); he uses examples
and comparisons from various times and areas, but still points to something we
should be aware of. Everyday activities and rituals are often hard to distinguish
and our scheme of distinction of sacred and profane is often subjective and bound to
the “modern” objectification of the world. We do not see the strategy with which the
specific people employed ritualization, but rituals were most probably embedded
in every-day activities. However, overlap between ritual and domesticity is not
universal, some of the places claimed as sanctuaries were isolated and rituals
conducted there involved quite different artefacts from those used in domestic
sphere. This may be related to the importance of religious specialists in the politics
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21Sacred Places, Sacred Persons: Religion, Death and Leadership in Roman Iron Age Scandinavia
of the Late Iron Age and, according to Bradley, exposure to influences from the
Mediterranean (Bradley 2005: 102–120, 195–203).
Food production was of primary concern to the ancient societies; it was ritualized
and along with the elite, responsible for the organization and distribution, storage
houses had a special position. Farming techniques themselves can be regarded as
ritual systems. Ploughing, along with granaries, appears on rock art, but often in
areas where cultivation would be difficult, therefore a ritual explanation in this
case is possible. Plough marks under mounds, indicating intentional ploughing
just prior to the construction of the mound (i.e. not from previous agricultural
use), may be also interpreted as traces of ritual ploughing. On Bornholm, larger
dispersed cairns, together with barrows appear on arable lands and elsewhere
even clearance cairns were used for rituals. Deposits of ards, plough and sickles
(mostly in Bronze Age, replaced by agricultural products in iron Age) indicate,
that agricultural tools were seen also as ritual instruments (Bradley 2005: 24–26,
83–120, 163–173; Widholm 2006: 64).
A likely link between agriculture, religion and death may be seen on the example
of granaries taking on form similar to tombs, probably symbolizing the cycle of
death and rebirth. It is possible that “cult buildings” used in the Early Iron Age
(before the ascend of hall buildings) had the appearance similar to granaries, or
that actual granaries were used for this purpose. Animal and human bones found
in pits, that could originally serve as grain pits, probably refer to the same concept.
A settlement near Mjölby in Högby parish (RAÄ 89) is an example of a continuous
ritual site in domestic environment with “ritual” pit system, stone setting and bone
deposits (Bradley 2005: 3–14, 165–211; Kaliff 2001: 449–458).
Fire had a crucial role in ancient societies as a medium for transformation and
communication with the divine (and sending to “the other side”). Hearth systems,
at least certain geometrically placed types (Odensala Rectory, Klinga, Ringeby,
Svarteborg), indicate practising of fire rituals. Seasonal bonfires (“bone fires”),
dedicated to the dead as well as helping to new life, might have been one of them.
Fire is necessary for metal working, which was not a purely profane activity but
a carrier of ritual significance; in fact some prehistoric iron production sites are
probably in need of reinterpretation as remains of cult practices. Cremated bones
were found in forging context, and some cooking pits might have been used as
reduction furnaces. Terje Gansum (referenced by Larsson) has been looking for
evidence that bones from graves might have been transformed into bone charcoal,
and the dead (animals, maybe humans) thus mixed into the iron. Combination
of cremation, burnt offering and metal working at one place (Håga, Ringeby,
Sandagergård in Denmark) is an expression of a belief system with structural
similarities between different activities resulting in an important transformation
(Bradley 2005: 23; Kaliff 2007: 70, 84, 99–106, 121–124, 164–166; Larsson 2005).
Cult houses and dwellings
The so called “cult houses”, of the “Broby type” and the smaller posthole
structures, often appear in context that indicates ritual use, but it is hard to
ascertain whether they were used repeatedly or only once (Ullevi – “Ull‘s vé”).
These were unlikely to serve as “houses” or dwellings, but as stated above, they
might have been connected to food production or storage. Hall buildings of the
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22 Jan Šeiner
later periods were likely to serve also as cult houses and their lack of internal
subdivision could be the most reliable way of identifying early temples. (Bradley
2005: 43–80; Kaliff 2007: 104).
Significant buildings and dwellings were likely to be perceived as having a life of
their own; the deposition of human or animal remains in the house or it‘s foundations
may be seen as animating the building with previously living spirit, which then
protects and helps the inhabitants (tomtar or nisser). Other things (axes, querns,
etc.) could be deposited with the creation and leaving of a house, often close to
the hearth; abandoned buildings might be then turned into monuments, though
these often show differences from buildings found in other contexts (Bradley 2005:
43–80, 175–177).
Some connections between settlements and the dead have already been
discussed above, yet there is one more thought, that might be mentioned. Since
the mounds, graves and stone structures were probably regarded as houses or
dwellings of the dead, it may be plausible to say, that concentrations of these
“objects” (or “features”), usually referred to as grave-fields or burial-grounds, were
seen as something like “settlements of the dead” (literally a necropolis). But, with
regard to all the indications of interaction rather than separation, these were likely
to be considered as a part of the settlement as a whole, rather than an opposition
to the settlement of the living.
In any case positioning of houses seems to have been interacting with positioning
of graves (Bradley 2005: 61–62).
Sacred persons
The Iron Age Scandinavian society was decentralized, split into several areas
ruled by local leaders from local centres (these central places may bear certain
elementsintheirnames,likehusa-,tuna-,etc.,S.Fischerestablishedalistofcriteria
for the identification and evaluation of regional centres, where more than half need
to be met in the centre of a given region to qualify as a likely seat of a runic literate
social hierarchy; Fischer 2005: 190–195). These rulers had a central positions in
public affairs and probably had many social duties and functions (some might be
reflected in the titles the particular ruler bore), religious and cultic leadership
including. In archaeological record these elites are connected with “royal” mounds,
stone ships and hall buildings (since Migrations Period); all of these were used for
cultic purposes as well (Sigvallius 2005; Sundqvist 2000: 59–80, 152). Their graves
contain prestigious goods, often Roman imports, which signified the status and
power of their owners and were essential in the establishment of the new political
system as representation of a new ideology. As these became more common in
Germanic daily life and ritual (these including alcoholic beverages, quite rare
in earlier times when their use, along with other possible hallucinogenics, was
restricted to only a small part of population), it became increasingly difficult to
distinguish competence and performance by means of qualitative and quantitative
measurements. As a result, one put more objects of the same kind into the
aristocratic Germanic graves, and still more of these goods had to be amassed to
signify social power (Fischer 2005: 75–79; Hedeager 1992: 89, 174–175).
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23Sacred Places, Sacred Persons: Religion, Death and Leadership in Roman Iron Age Scandinavia
This power and duties in public cults and performance of ceremonies were
not confined to one man, but to his kinsmen as well, who formed the ruling elite.
For these families or dynasties legal and genealogical issues were of significant
concern and the religious office included law keeping and law enforcing functions
(Sundqvist 2000: 59–195; Tacitus: Germania 11).
Thus the power of the Germanic elites combined economic productivity with
ideological legitimization through rituals and symbolical distinction from other
groups. Another domain of the elites, warfare, was highly ritualised as well.
This ritualization was nothing new and was not confined only to the elites, but
“ordinary” warriors were involved as well, as may be seen on the emergence of
“wolf brotherhoods” throughout the whole Europe, and the depictions of initiative
rituals for those entering such war-band or ritualised duels (Fischer 2005: 130–
227; Hedeager 1992: 80–146; Sundqvist 2000: 96; West 2007: 411–504; for the use
of magic in combat see Price 2002).
Women probably had a somewhat special position in religion and sorcery, and
served as leaders and cultic officials as well. Strabo‘s notion of grey-haired Cimbri
priestesses and seeresses performing human offering and later appearances of
völva in old-Norse sources may be supplemented with archaeological evidence of
rich female graves, some of them in unusual context and with indications of cultic
significance (Högby), and with imported prestige goods as indicators of power
(Nordin 2005; Strabo: Geographica VII, 2: 3; Sundqvist 2000: 74).
ThereislittleevidenceofanexclusivelypriestlyclassinancientGermanicsociety.
The ruler was the link between the people and the divinities. Written sources are
often prone to distortion through interpretatio romana/christiana (in fact much of
the Christian clergy came from transformed Roman nobility; Fischer 2005: 118)
and the Germanic terms gođi (male, used by Wulfila as translation of “priest”)
and gyđja (female) point to a political leadership as well as religious. A different
title, erilaR, appears on several runic inscriptions (notably on the spear-shaft from
Kragehul). The title itself has been interpreted in various ways as magician, runemaster,
earl or Heruli; in other words a powerful function with access to the divine,
possibly by the means of some secret knowledge. In the archaeological record, grave
finds indicating religious function are often accompanied by prestigious goods
indicating elite, a distinction of the two is therefore hardly possible (Fischer 2005:
130–131; Sundqvist 2000: 72–74, 162–163; see also Price 2002: 70). In the past,
there were attempts to connect these leaders with the concept of sacral kingship,
but its existence in Scandinavia nowadays seems unlikely (see Sundqvist 2000).
All in all, position and function in public cult stemmed from position in society
and political power. Even when it comes to the ancestors cult, the common dead
appear to be more like instruments of a divine power, than it‘s wielders (from
written sources), it is the dead elite, the kings and heroes who have a more potent
influence of a different kind (Ellis 1943: 165–169).
Continuity and change
The transition from Roman Iron Age to the Migrations Period is accompanied by
significant changes in higher strata of Germanic society materialized, among other
things, in burial customs. Parts of the rests of the cremation pyres were now buried
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24 Jan Šeiner
in round cairns, more uniform than during the late Roman Iron Age, with grave
fields now consisting of large amounts of small mounds. Cremation layers with
animal bones became more common, while weapons were rarely included. These
became more common in the Vendel period, which suggests an increasing need to
represent men as warriors in the afterlife (Fischer 2005: 128–129; Widholm 2006:
142–143).
Late Iron Age settlements have increasing signs of remains of cult activities
(guldgubbar, amulets, armlets, etc.), as opposed to earlier periods, but then mainly
in chieftain environment and “central” places with hall buildings. The cult was
gradually “brought indoors” and lost it‘s connection with graves, without which
stone ships and square structures lost in importance and more uniform grave fields
appeared (Kaliff 2001; Sundqvist 2000: 160; Widholm 2006: 144–145).
The way in which wealth is distributed is an important indicator of social
changes, since wealth was usually channelled either into graves or into hoards,
rarely into both at the same time. In the Late pre-Roman Iron Age individual
families broke the continuity of Bronze Age rituals, separated themselves from the
commonality and aligned themselves with gods through funerals (large barrows or
rich imported grave goods as manifestation of power). During the Roman Iron Age
almost all wealth comes from rich graves, while hoards are few and seem to lack
any link to systematic ritual practice (although pots found in bogs probably show
continuity in local food offerings); only in the latter half of this period the great
weapon deposits start to appear. The situation changes in the Migrations Period,
when the hoards (official offerings) come to the fore, while grave finds fade away
(as seen on grave-fields like Bo Gård and Östra Bökestad; see Larsson 2005). The
new elite performs offerings to the gods and ancestors, who take care of the newly
established order, in the Late Iron Age these offerings, however, seem to stop.
Rituals often play innovative role in establishing a new social order, but when
this is fixed and stable they revert to a conservative function. The changes during
the transition between Early and Later Iron Age may be reflecting separation of
gods and men, institutionalization of the religion, consolidation of the elite and
monopolization of power leading to the origins of a state. Signs of ritual re-use
of older burial fields during Vendel Period and Viking Age may mark a social
reform and the society‘s ritual respond for the need for re-stabilization of social
and mythological order (Hedeager 1992; Kaliff 2007: 132–133; Larsson 2005,
Sundqvist 2000: 67).
Continuity or revival of using monuments for rituals is often taken as evidence
of the awareness of the past in prehistoric society (Aspeborg 2005; Brink 2001:
80, 104–107; Larsson 2005; Sundqvist 2000; Widholm 2006: 54, 113–114, 121),
but we must take into account that their concept of time and past was probably
different from ours (Widholm 2006: 136–139). Memory of important events and
people connected to certain sites was surely important (Aspeborg 2005; Bradley
2005: 43–48; Sundqvist 2000) and could live in oral tradition for a long time as
well as local religious customs, but I think there was an even more important
concern. In my opinion, older monuments were not used for cult primarily because
the predecessors of the current users did so as well, but because these monuments
were meant to be used in this way. The original users might have been viewed just
as “smart enough to worship the forces that reside there, just as we do”, without
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25Sacred Places, Sacred Persons: Religion, Death and Leadership in Roman Iron Age Scandinavia
giving them any credit for building the monument (or shaping it for cultic use) in
the first place; the divine powers are that which counts and it was more or less
the “duty” of the first people who worshipped them, to do so properly and with
a fitting monument. The “symbol” might have been crafted by human hands, but
it’s meaning had nothing to do with them, but with the divine powers (although
the distance between the divine and the ordinary people is unclear). What I want
to say is that the tradition carried by memory alone, in my opinion, only answers
the question “How?” (regarding the cult), but for the answers for the questions
“What?” and “Why?” a continuity in “symbolic mind” is needed. And this symbolic
mind is not carried on only by memory and tradition, but the same (or similar) way
of thinking must be maintained as well, which must have been quite complicated
with the influx of new ideas and concepts from the Roman Empire and early
Christianity. On the other hand, social changes based on intentional “memory
loss” or “refusal of history” (denunciation of previous practices, change of ruling
group, etc.) may be only superficial and temporary if a change in thinking does not
follow in greater measure.
The eventual spreading of Christianity led to changes in view of the sacred
landscape, as explained by Yi-Fu Tuan:
“In many non-Christian cultures natural setting and nature itself were holy
in different respects and selected features in the landscape were regarded as
sacred and worshipped, in the Christian tradition holiness was not associated
with the landscape but was invested in man-made features – shrines, altars,
churches and other buildings that often dominate the landscape. [...] In the
Christian view it was not emanation from the earth but ritual that consecrated
a site, man not nature bore the image of God, while in pagan antiquity each
facet of nature had its own guardian spirit” (Tuan 1974, quoted in Brink
2001: 83).
The ancient Scandinavian religion differed regionally and was centred on
agriculture and worship of ancestors, with burial mounds as likely cult sites, it was
a religion binding people to a place, which became obsolete with the development of
towns, feudalism, coinage, new written language, territorialized nations etc. Gods
of these religions have no power beyond the vicinity of their particular abodes, they
reward and protect their own people but are harmful to strangers, they belong
to a hierarchy of beings that extend from the living members of a family, then
ancestors and spirits of dead heroes; these religions encourage a strong sense of
past, lineage and continuity in place, ancestor worship lies at the core of practice
and security is gained through continuity not through eternal and timeless values.
The latter were provided by a new universal religion which cut off the chains to
the earth and replaced the former tradition, while the celebration of dead family
members was replaced with celebration of dead bishops and local martyrs and
later prohibited completely (Brink 2001: 83–87; Gräslund 2001).
Recently the influence of Mithraism on ancient Germanic religion has been
discussed, but no general consent has been achieved and the measure of importance
ascribed to the role of Mithraism by different researchers varies (Fischer 2005:
99–102, 147–148; Kaliff 2004).
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26 Jan Šeiner
Concluding remarks
“Without death, there would be no religion” (Carus 2008: 360).
“I find some of my new works disturbing, just as I find nature as a whole
disturbing. The landscape is often perceived as pastoral, pretty, beautiful –
something to be enjoyed as a backdrop to your weekend before going back to
the nitty-gritty of urban life. But anybody who works the land knows it‘s not
like that. Nature can be harsh – difficult and brutal, as well as beautiful. You
couldn‘t walk five minutes from here without coming across something that is
dead or decaying.” (Andy Goldsworthy)
It seems, at least according to most of the contemporary interpretations, that
the ancient Germanic religion dealt primarily and foremostly with death and that
what is beyond (be it afterlife, rebirth or transformation through the vegetative/
agricultural cycle) and with its close link to fertility. There might have been
a concept similar to some of the laws of contemporary chemical thermodynamics,
i.e. that in order to spend energy and simpler elements to create a new life, this
energy and elements must first be obtained elsewhere, usually through destruction
and decomposition. Whether the death and rebirth cycle was really perceived in
this way is hard to say, the destruction of bodies and artefacts in funeral and
ritual context, might as well be just “sent away” to another, more or less separated,
sphere of existence, outside the domain of the living.
Ancestral cult, descent and family relationships were of great importance and
the dead had a great deal of influence on the well-being of their living relatives,
but their power varied in a reflection of their power while being still alive. Persons
with a significant influence position in cult (and leadership) retained these even
after death.
Shifts in ritual practice, connected with powerful people, their worship in
ancestor cult and belief in “mound dwellers” and their powers may be used to
connect historical persons with certain lesser deities and spiritual beings in an
Euhemeristic manner. But it is unlikely that the major gods from Old Norse sources
could be interpreted in the same way (as Snorri Sturluson attempted), since they
appear to be connected more with the “natural” sacred places, rather than with
funeral environment and; also their traits fitting into the general pattern of IndoEuropean
pantheons indicate older origin. Origins of Indo-European gods as actual
historical people far in the ancient prehistory can be neither excluded nor proved,
but this is outside the scope of this work (and for the time being outside the reach
of History of Religions as well).
There are also certain animistic and animatistic notions apparent in the preChristian
Germanic religion. Some of them survived until today in folklore and
local customs, like the concept of the huldufólk (hidden people) – including elves,
trolls and other similar beings. Certain types of these beings may share common
characteristics, but they may as well take many different regional forms and
names (Price 2002: 57) and the same being may be described with quite different
characteristics (compare Brink 2001; Ellis 1943; Kaul 2003: 20–21; Price 2002:
54–60); additionally, they do appear mostly in later written sources and it is likely
that the wide range of these beings known to us today was even more extensive in
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27Sacred Places, Sacred Persons: Religion, Death and Leadership in Roman Iron Age Scandinavia
the Early Iron Age (Brink 2001: 88). Therefore we should be careful about using
these names in a definitive manner when trying to define beliefs in a particular
context.
Concerning the organisation of ancient Germanic religion, the evidence seems to
be pointing more towards a loose belief system, than to any form of an institution
organized on more than local or regional level. This loose system was probably
quite variable and always adjusted to local specifics and needs. It changed with
the society in which it was embedded and the religious hierarchy followed or
reflected the socio-political one. Overlap and interaction, foreign to our secularized
experience, are defining attributes of religion in ancient Germanic culture.
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