The Spread of Christianity Animated, from Antiquity Until Today, on an Animated Map

Chris­tian­i­ty has long been close­ly iden­ti­fied with West­ern civ­i­liza­tion. The asso­ci­a­tion is espe­cial­ly strong, in mod­ern times, with the Unit­ed States of Amer­i­ca, that source of deri­sive­ly quot­ed, quite pos­si­bly apoc­ryphal argu­ments that “if Eng­lish was good enough for Jesus Christ, it ought to be good enough for our chil­dren.” But of course, Jesus nev­er heard a word of Eng­lish, and though the spread of the reli­gion named after him did shift into high gear not long after his death — to say noth­ing of after Con­stan­ti­ne’s — it took its sweet time get­ting to the Amer­i­can con­ti­nent. In fact, it does­n’t show up there until more than five and a half min­utes into the new eight-minute video from Ollie Bye above, which ani­mates Chris­tian­i­ty’s his­tor­i­cal prop­a­ga­tion on a world map.

It’s a world map by the end, in any case: the view zooms out as the reach of Chris­tian­i­ty increas­es, start­ing with the region we now call the Mid­dle East and end­ing up with every con­ti­nent on dis­play, none of them untouched save Antarc­ti­ca (which actu­al­ly does have eight church­es of its own). Remark­able though it is that this first-cen­tu­ry “desert reli­gion” has tak­en root in such a vari­ety of envi­ron­ments, cul­tures, and soci­eties, it has­n’t come through that process com­plete­ly unchanged.

Indeed, Bye’s map includes a run­ning leg­end of its major vari­ants, from Nicene, Celtic, and Chal­cedon­ian Chris­tian­i­ty ear­ly on to Angli­can, Luther­an, Bap­tist, and many more in our time. It makes less sense to speak of the spread of Chris­tian­i­ty, per­haps, than the spread of Chris­tian­i­ties.

In the sin­gu­lar or the plur­al, what has made all this so adapt­able to such a wide vari­ety of human set­tings? Chris­tian­i­ty’s non-eth­nic uni­ver­sal­ism sure­ly has some­thing to do with it, as does the broad emo­tion­al res­o­nance of its core nar­ra­tives of sin, sal­va­tion, and rebirth. The assid­u­ous trans­la­tion of its texts and out­ward march of mis­sion­ar­ies and oth­er car­ri­ers of the gospel has been going on almost since the very begin­ning. Through­out its his­to­ry, Chris­tian­i­ty has also shown the ver­sa­til­i­ty to thrive as a clan­des­tine under­ground move­ment, a state reli­gion, and every­thing in between. All the while, it has assim­i­lat­ed qual­i­ties of the civ­i­liza­tions it enters, from Gre­co-Roman phi­los­o­phy to Celtic fes­ti­vals to Kore­an shaman­is­tic tra­di­tions. In fact, I’m writ­ing this very post from one of the many church cafés in Seoul, as con­vinc­ing an expe­ri­ence as to under­score Chris­tian­i­ty’s improb­a­ble — and con­tin­u­ing — endurance.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Ani­mat­ed Map Shows How the Five Major Reli­gions Spread Across the World (3000 BC — 2000 AD)

180,000 Years of Reli­gion Chart­ed on a “His­tom­ap” in 1943

The Birth and Rapid Rise of Islam, Ani­mat­ed (622‑1453)

A Visu­al Map of the World’s Major Reli­gions (and Non-Reli­gions)

World Reli­gions Explained with Use­ful Charts: Hin­duism, Bud­dhism, Judaism, Islam, Chris­tian­i­ty & More

The His­to­ry of the World in One Video: Every Year from 200,000 BCE to Today

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Every Book of the Bible Explained in One Video

Whether we’re reli­gious or not, we can all agree that the Bible isn’t just a book. In fact, it’s at least 66 of them, 39 Old Tes­ta­ment and 27 in the New, and that’s just in the Protes­tant tra­di­tion. Even if you’ve nev­er read a sin­gle page of the Bible, you may well have a decent idea of what quite a few of those books con­tain: the sto­ries of Adam, Eve, Noah, and the cre­ation in Gen­e­sis; the plagues and Moses part­ing the Red Sea in Exo­dus; the var­i­ous depic­tions of Jesus in the Gospels that define his pop­u­lar image; the apoc­a­lyp­tic grotes­queries of Rev­e­la­tion. That’s even like­li­er to be true if you watch Hochela­ga, the YouTube chan­nel that just came out with a new video explain­ing all those sto­ries and every­thing in between.

The result is long, to be sure, but not as long as you might expect: Hochela­ga cre­ator Tom­mie Trelawny man­ages to cov­er the 66 books of the Bible in two hours, the length of an ordi­nary fea­ture film. For visu­als, he draws upon the his­to­ry of West­ern art, whose con­nec­tions with Chris­tian­i­ty and pen­chant for depict­ing the reli­gion’s cen­tral events goes with­out say­ing.

In the case of bib­li­cal fig­ures like Jon­ah, Job, or Lot’s wife (before or after her con­ver­sion into a pil­lar of salt), we’ve devel­oped our own men­tal images at least through cul­tur­al osmo­sis, informed or not by the visions of Renais­sance mas­ters. But how many of us can call so eas­i­ly scenes from the books of Oba­di­ah, Hag­gai, or Phile­mon up in our mind’s eye?

This video may prove most help­ful in pro­vid­ing a “big pic­ture” of the Bible, allow­ing view­ers with no expe­ri­ence of bib­li­cal schol­ar­ship to place iso­lat­ed episodes to which they’ve heard ref­er­ences all their lives in con­text with each oth­er. And yet, it’s also entire­ly pos­si­ble that they’ll come out of these two hours won­der­ing to what extent all these parts real­ly fit togeth­er in the first place. Col­lect­ed from mate­r­i­al orig­i­nal­ly writ­ten over cen­turies and in var­i­ous forms, not to men­tion passed through the vagaries of trans­la­tion, the Bible could hard­ly be expect­ed to present itself with pol­ished coher­ence. Whether or not you believe it con­tains the word of God, you could well feel ready, after Hochela­ga’s overview, to grap­ple with its text in all its lin­guis­tic rich­ness, its sur­pris­ing con­tra­dic­tions, and its moral grandeur — as well as its more-than-occa­sion­al strange­ness.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Chris­tian­i­ty Through Its Scrip­tures: A Free Course from Har­vard Uni­ver­si­ty

Why Real Bib­li­cal Angels Are Creepy, Beast­ly, and Hard­ly Angel­ic

What Hap­pened to Jesus’ Twelve Dis­ci­ples After the Bible — It Wasn’t Pret­ty

How Many Lives Does God Take in the Bible: An Inves­ti­ga­tion into a Sur­pris­ing­ly High Body Count

Dis­cov­er Thomas Jefferson’s Cut-and-Paste Ver­sion of the Bible, and Read the Curi­ous Edi­tion Online

Isaac Asimov’s Guide to the Bible: A Wit­ty, Eru­dite Atheist’s Guide to the World’s Most Famous Book

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

What Happened to Jesus’ Twelve Disciples After the Bible—It Wasn’t Pretty

The sto­ries in the Bible have been told in many ways, not least through film. Among the many cin­e­mat­ic adap­ta­tions of Chris­tian­i­ty’s holy book, none comes to mind that ends with freeze-frame title cards explain­ing the lat­er fate of each char­ac­ter, in the man­ner of Ani­mal House, Amer­i­can Graf­fi­ti, or Good­fel­las. This is sur­pris­ing, since that device could do much to sat­is­fy our curios­i­ty about so many sec­ondary Bib­li­cal fig­ures. Take the twelve dis­ci­ples of Jesus Christ, whose lives Hochela­ga cre­ator Tom­mie Trelawny takes as his sub­ject in the new video above. Be warned: things did­n’t end par­tic­u­lar­ly well for most of them.

Peter, who “has to be one of the most stud­ied fig­ures in his­to­ry,” seems to have end­ed his days in Rome. Chris­tian­i­ty’s rapid spread there in the first cen­tu­ry AD, even­tu­al­ly brought about a crack­down by the rul­ing class. The emper­or Nero blamed the fire of 64 on Chris­tians, and Peter, now known as Saint Peter, was among the vic­tims of the result­ing per­se­cu­tion. Judas, the betray­er of Jesus, “remains the most con­tro­ver­sial fig­ure in all of Chris­tian­i­ty,” though ques­tions about his moti­va­tions have gone with­out defin­i­tive answers. We do know, how­ev­er, that remorse even­tu­al­ly over­took him, lead­ing him to take his own life in Akel­dama, or the “field of blood” — and if you believe Dante, he now resides in the ninth cir­cle of Hell.

Trelawny gives the title of most under­rat­ed to the one whose skep­ti­cism about Jesus’ return from death has guar­an­teed him his own eter­nal life through the expres­sion “doubt­ing Thomas.” (As with Peter and Judas, his iden­ti­ty was solid­i­fied by a Car­avag­gio paint­ing.) Accord­ing to cer­tain sto­ries, he also trav­eled the far­thest of any of the dis­ci­ples: far enough to fol­low exist­ing Roman spice routes and found the church of the Saint Thomas Chris­tians in Ker­ala, India. The not-quite-as-wide­ly known but nev­er­the­less high­ly impor­tant Andrew made trav­els of his own, going to Scythia, and from there to Greece. After his even­tu­al cap­ture and cru­ci­fix­ion, his holy relics were scat­tered far and wide: even to Scot­land, so the leg­end has it, home of the Uni­ver­si­ty of St. Andrews. The St. Andrews’ Cross appears as the main design ele­ment of Scot­land’s nation­al flag, as well as a part of the Union Jack.

In these and oth­er ways, the lega­cies of the dis­ci­ples con­tin­ue to man­i­fest in famil­iar ways through­out the West­ern (and, occa­sion­al­ly, non-west­ern) world. After telling the sto­ries of the remain­ing eight, from John to Bartholomew to Simon the Zealot, Trelawny con­sid­ers the pos­si­bil­i­ty of a mnemon­ic rhyme for their fates. Alas, he admits, “I’m still try­ing to think of what goes with ‘flayed alive by Arme­ni­ans.’ ” Being a dis­ci­ple of Jesus turns out, for the most part, to have been a call­ing with a very low sur­vival rate indeed. But then, in ear­ly Chris­tian­i­ty, mar­tyr­dom was a holy act, a demon­stra­tion of devo­tion in imi­ta­tion of the Mes­si­ah him­self — and an ele­ment sure to make most any dis­ci­ple biopic a grue­some view­ing expe­ri­ence.

Relat­ed con­tent:

The Real Sto­ry of East­er: How We Got from the First East­er in the Bible to Bun­nies, Eggs & Choco­late

The Gnos­tic Gospels: An Intro­duc­tion to the For­bid­den Teach­ings of Jesus

Why Real Bib­li­cal Angels Are Creepy, Beast­ly, and Hard­ly Angel­ic

How Our Depic­tion of Jesus Changed Over 2,000 Years and What He May Have Actu­al­ly Looked Like

How Many Lives Does God Take in the Bible: An Inves­ti­ga­tion into a Sur­pris­ing­ly High Body Count

What Makes Caravaggio’s The Tak­ing of Christ a Time­less, Great Paint­ing?

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

How Many Lives Does God Take in the Bible: An Investigation into a Surprisingly High Body Count

Whether or not we believe in any god, most of us here in the twen­ty-first cen­tu­ry have the impres­sion of divine rulers over­look­ing human­i­ty with at least the­o­ret­i­cal love and benev­o­lence. They for­give us, they have plans for us, they nev­er close a door with­out open­ing a win­dow, and so on. But in the par­tic­u­lar case of the Chris­t­ian God, we’ve all heard that he both giveth and taketh away, even if we’ve nev­er so much as opened the Bible, Old Tes­ta­ment or New. That line comes from the Book of Job, which belongs to the Old, a text whose depic­tion of God may sur­prise first-time read­ers — espe­cial­ly in his will­ing­ness to cause death, the sub­ject of the Hochela­ga video above on “God’s Bib­li­cal Kill Count.”

It turns out that, if you go through the King James Ver­sion and tal­ly up every sin­gle per­son God kills on a spread­sheet (a task to which Hochela­ga cre­ator Tom­mie Trelawny is sure­ly among the best-suit­ed YouTu­bers), you end up with a high num­ber at the bot­tom indeed. “Through­out the Old Tes­ta­ment, God is respon­si­ble for a whole slew of nat­ur­al dis­as­ters,” he says, “from eras­ing life on Earth in a world-end­ing flood to unleash­ing dev­as­tat­ing plagues of” — yes — “Bib­li­cal pro­por­tions.”

Con­cerned as it is with lay­ing out God’s law, the Old Tes­ta­ment, or Hebrew Bible, spends a great deal of time explain­ing what hap­pens to the vio­la­tors of those laws. In one pas­sage, 50,070 men are “pul­ver­ized for glimps­ing inside the Ark of the Covenant,” and, in anoth­er, God sends an angel to “wipe out 185,000 sol­diers in one night,” to name just two inci­dents.

Trelawny’s ini­tial count of the deaths the Bible attrib­ut­es to God comes to a pre­cise-sound­ing 2,559,449. But that fig­ure only includes instances in which the text spec­i­fies how many peo­ple died. Some­times it does­n’t, which requires the con­sci­en­tious bib­li­cal body-counter to rely on the best his­tor­i­cal esti­mates of, for exam­ple, how many peo­ple an army or a city — enti­ties the Old Tes­ta­ment God could anni­hi­late with a flick of the wrist — com­prised at the time, to say noth­ing of the Earth­’s total pop­u­la­tion at the pre­sump­tive time of the Flood. Trelawny goes with 20 mil­lion, bring­ing the final count to 24,681,116, about the same as the entire pop­u­la­tion of Shang­hai. It may seem iron­ic to draw a com­par­i­son with a city out­side what we could call the Judeo-Chris­t­ian world, but Chi­nese civ­i­liza­tion has strict deities of its own. Run afoul of Leigong, for instance, and you could find your­self struck down by a bolt of light­ning. But he’d sure­ly have to get busy throw­ing a whole lot more of them before even hop­ing to approach the Lord’s record.

Relat­ed con­tent:

A Sur­vival Guide to the Bib­li­cal Apoc­a­lypse

The Ori­gins of Satan: The Evo­lu­tion of the Dev­il in Reli­gion

Why Real Bib­li­cal Angels Are Creepy, Beast­ly, and Hard­ly Angel­ic

Chris­tian­i­ty Through Its Scrip­tures: A Free Course from Har­vard Uni­ver­si­ty

74 Ways Char­ac­ters Die in Shakespeare’s Plays Shown in a Handy Info­graph­ic: From Snakebites to Lack of Sleep

Alfred Hitchcock’s 50 Ways to Kill a Char­ac­ter

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

The Ancient Egyptian Book of the Dead: A Guidebook for Surviving the Afterlife

The say­ing “You can’t take it with you” may be a cliché to all of us here in the twen­ty-first cen­tu­ry, but it would hard­ly have made sense to an ancient Egypt­ian. One of the most wide­ly known qual­i­ties of that civ­i­liza­tion’s upper crust, after all, is that its mem­bers spared no expense try­ing to do just that. The most com­pelling evi­dence includes the tombs of the pharaohs, lav­ish­ly stocked as they were with every­thing from dai­ly neces­si­ties to reli­gious arti­facts to ser­vants (in effi­gy or oth­er­wise). And nobody who was any­body in ancient Egypt would be seen shuf­fling off this mor­tal coil — or what­ev­er the shape in which their poets cast it — with­out a Book of the Dead.

“A stan­dard com­po­nent in Egypt­ian elite buri­als, the Book of the Dead was not a book in the mod­ern sense of the term but a com­pendi­um of some 200 rit­u­al spells and prayers, with instruc­tions on how the deceased’s spir­it should recite them in the here­after,” writes the New York Times’ Franz Lidz.

“Com­piled and refined over mil­len­ni­ums since about 1550 B.C.,” the text “pro­vid­ed a sort of visu­al map that allowed the new­ly dis­em­bod­ied soul to nav­i­gate the duat, a maze-like nether­world of cav­erns, hills and burn­ing lakes.” Each of its “spells” addressed a par­tic­u­lar sit­u­a­tion the deceased might encounter on that jour­ney: a snake attack, decap­i­ta­tion, a turn­ing upside down that “would reverse your diges­tive func­tions and cause you to con­sume your own waste.”

We can cer­tain­ly under­stand why these high-sta­tus ancient Egyp­tians did­n’t want to take their chances. In the ani­mat­ed Ted-ED video above, you can fol­low the jour­ney of one such indi­vid­ual, a scribe from thir­teenth-cen­tu­ry-BC Thebes called Anees. After his body under­goes two months of mum­mi­fi­ca­tion, his spir­it makes its har­row­ing jour­ney through the under­world, call­ing upon the spells he’d thought to include in his Book of the Dead when alive. Then comes moral judg­ment by a bat­tery of 42 “asses­sor gods” and a weigh­ing of his heart, the final step before his admit­tance to a lush wheat field that is the Egypt­ian after­life. Whether Anees got that far remains an open ques­tion, but mod­ern phys­i­cal and dig­i­tal enshrine­ment of Books of the Dead (more of which you can see up-close at Google Arts & Cul­ture), has grant­ed him and his com­pa­tri­ots a kind of immor­tal­i­ty after all.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How Did the Egyp­tians Make Mum­mies? An Ani­mat­ed Intro­duc­tion to the Ancient Art of Mum­mi­fi­ca­tion

Hear Lau­rie Ander­son Read from the Tibetan Book of the Dead on New Album Songs from the Bar­do

Sci­en­tists Dis­cov­er that Ancient Egyp­tians Drank Hal­lu­cino­genic Cock­tails from 2,300 Year-Old Mug

When the Grate­ful Dead Played at the Egypt­ian Pyra­mids, in the Shad­ow of the Sphinx (1978)

Were the Egypt­ian Pyra­mids Not Built Up, But Carved Down?: A Bold New The­o­ry Explains Their Con­struc­tion

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

The Dead Sea Scrolls: Discover the Secrets of the Bible’s Oldest and Strangest Texts

The appear­ance of the Dead Sea Scrolls was the most impor­tant doc­u­ment dis­cov­ery of the twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry. Yet, in some sense, they did­n’t deliv­er what many assumed to be promised with­in: that is, the basis for a com­plete revi­sion of every­thing we thought we knew about Chris­tian­i­ty. The real­i­ty of the Dead Sea Scrolls’ con­tent is less sim­ple, but also stranger — which makes it an ide­al sub­ject for the YouTube chan­nel Hochela­ga, giv­en its pen­chant for explor­ing the obscure byways of reli­gious his­to­ry. And indeed, as host Tom­mie Trelawny says in his new video above, they are the “old­est Bib­li­cal writ­ings ever found,” a sta­tus that, what­ev­er their specifics, cer­tain­ly jus­ti­fies the great scruti­ny paid to them over the past eight decades.

For it was only in 1946 that the Scrolls were found, by a Bedouin shep­herd look­ing for his lost goat in a series of caves in the vicin­i­ty of ancient ruins by the Dead Sea. Or so the sto­ry goes, any­way, and Trelawny explains some of the com­pli­ca­tions that emerge when it’s exam­ined more close­ly.

But the fact remains that those caves did con­tain, tight­ly rolled up and for the most part well-pre­served, a set of scrolls adding up to “around 900 indi­vid­ual man­u­scripts: 40 per­cent of them “resem­bled books found in the Bible”; 30 per­cent, apoc­ryphal writ­ings “banned” from the Bible; and anoth­er 30 per­cent, “writ­ings pre­vi­ous­ly unknown to schol­ar­ship.” Those last include “texts that described a secre­tive reli­gious com­mu­ni­ty and apoc­a­lyp­tic visions of a great heav­en­ly war.”

Most intrigu­ing­ly, there was also “a scroll made entire­ly of cop­per that lists the loca­tions of lost trea­sure.” None of it has ever been found, much as the con­tent of the oth­er texts has­n’t forced a great rethink­ing of the reli­gion at the cen­ter of so much of West­ern civ­i­liza­tion. In fact, as Bib­li­cal schol­ar Robert Alter writes in the Lon­don Review of Books, “the notion that these sec­tar­i­an writ­ings are actu­al­ly Chris­t­ian has no schol­ar­ly cred­i­bil­i­ty,” though some researchers argue that “the blue­print for the Gospel nar­ra­tives,” mes­si­ah fig­ure and all, “was laid out in the Scrolls and fol­lowed by the first Chris­t­ian writ­ers.” They do, how­ev­er, reveal a great deal about the world­view of the par­tic­u­lar fringe faith­ful who took to the desert to keep their unortho­dox beliefs safe from the harsh judg­ment of main­stream soci­ety — and, for about twen­ty cen­turies, safe they remained.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Google Puts The Dead Sea Scrolls Online (in Super High Res­o­lu­tion)

Google Dig­i­tizes Ancient Copies of the Ten Com­mand­ments and Gen­e­sis

2,000-Year-Old Man­u­script of the Ten Com­mand­ments Gets Dig­i­tized: See/Download “Nash Papyrus” in High Res­o­lu­tion

How Ancient Scrolls, Charred by the Erup­tion of Mount Vesu­vius in 79 AD, Are Now Being Read by Par­ti­cle Accel­er­a­tors, 3D Mod­el­ing & Arti­fi­cial Intel­li­gence

The Gnos­tic Gospels: An Intro­duc­tion to the For­bid­den Teach­ings of Jesus

Intro­duc­tion to the Old Tes­ta­ment: A Free Yale Course

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Cats in Medieval Manuscripts & Paintings

Renais­sance artist Albrecht Dür­er  (1471–1528) nev­er saw a rhi­no him­self, but by rely­ing on eye­wit­ness descrip­tions of the one King Manuel I of Por­tu­gal intend­ed as a gift to the Pope, he man­aged to ren­der a fair­ly real­is­tic one, all things con­sid­ered.

Medieval artists’ ren­der­ings of cats so often fell short of the mark, Youtu­ber Art Deco won­ders if any of them had seen a cat before.

Point tak­en, but cats were well inte­grat­ed into medieval soci­ety.

Roy­al 12 C xix f. 36v/37r (13th cen­tu­ry)

Cats pro­vid­ed medieval cit­i­zens with the same pest con­trol ser­vices they’d been per­form­ing since the ancient Egyp­tians first domes­ti­cat­ed them.

Ancient Egyp­tians con­veyed their grat­i­tude and respect by regard­ing cats as sym­bols of divin­i­ty, pro­tec­tion, and strength.

Cer­tain Egypt­ian god­dess­es, like Bastet, were imbued with unmis­tak­ably feline char­ac­ter­is­tics.

The Vin­tage News reports that harm­ing a cat in those days was pun­ish­able by death, export­ing them was ille­gal, and, much like today, the death of a cat was an occa­sion for pub­lic sor­row:

When a cat died, it was buried with hon­ors, mum­mi­fied and mourned by the humans. The body of the cat would be wrapped in the finest mate­ri­als and then embalmed in order to pre­serve the body for a longer time. Ancient Egyp­tians went so far that they shaved their eye­brows as a sign of their deep sor­row for the deceased pet.

Aberdeen Uni­ver­si­ty Library, MS 24  f. 23v (Eng­land, c 1200)

The medieval church took a much dark­er view of our feline friends.

Their close ties to pagan­ism and ear­ly reli­gions were enough for cats to be judged guilty of witch­craft, sin­ful sex­u­al­i­ty, and frat­er­niz­ing with Satan.

In the late 12th-cen­tu­ry, writer Wal­ter Map, a soon-to-be archdea­con of Oxford, declared that the dev­il appeared before his devo­tees in feline form:

… hang­ing by a rope, a black cat of great size. As soon as they see this cat, the lights are turned out. They do not sing or recite hymns in a dis­tinct way, but they mut­ter them with their teeth closed and they feel in the dark towards where they saw their lord, and when they find it, they kiss it, the more humbly depend­ing on their fol­ly, some on the paws, some under the tail, some on the gen­i­tals. And as if they have, in this way, received a license for pas­sion, each one takes the near­est man or woman and they join them­selves with the oth­er for as long as they choose to draw out their game.

Pope Inno­cent VIII issued a papal bull in 1484 con­demn­ing the “devil’s favorite ani­mal and idol of all witch­es” to death, along with their human com­pan­ions.

13th-cen­tu­ry Fran­cis­can monk Bartholo­maeus Angli­cus refrained from demon­ic tat­tle, but nei­ther did he paint cats as angels:

He is a full lech­er­ous beast in youth, swift, pli­ant, and mer­ry, and leapeth and reseth on every­thing that is to fore him: and is led by a straw, and playeth there­with: and is a right heavy beast in age and full sleepy, and lieth sly­ly in wait for mice: and is aware where they be more by smell than by sight, and hunteth and reseth on them in privy places: and when he taketh a mouse, he playeth there­with, and eateth him after the play. In time of love is hard fight­ing for wives, and one scratch­eth and ren­deth the oth­er griev­ous­ly with bit­ing and with claws. And he maketh a ruth­ful noise and ghast­ful, when one prof­fer­eth to fight with anoth­er: and unneth is hurt when he is thrown down off an high place. And when he hath a fair skin, he is as it were proud there­of, and goeth fast about: and when his skin is burnt, then he bideth at home; and is oft for his fair skin tak­en of the skin­ner, and slain and flayed.

Pigs and rats also had a bad rep, and like cats, were tor­tured and exe­cut­ed in great num­bers by pious humans.

The Work­sop Bes­tiary Mor­gan Library, MS M.81 f. 47r (Eng­land, c 1185)

Not every medieval city was anti-cat. As the Aca­d­e­m­ic Cat Lady Johan­na Feen­stra writes of the above illus­tra­tion from The Work­sop Bes­tiary, one of the ear­li­est Eng­lish bes­tiaries:

Some would have inter­pret­ed the image of a cat pounc­ing on a rodent as a sym­bol for the dev­il going after the human soul. Oth­ers might have seen the cat in a com­plete­ly dif­fer­ent light. For instance, as Eucharis­tic guardians, mak­ing sure rodents could not steal and eat the Eucharis­tic wafers.

Bodleian Library Bod­ley 764 f. 51r (Eng­land, c 1225–50)

St John’s Col­lege Library, MS. 61 (Eng­land (York), 13th cen­tu­ry)

It took cat lover Leonar­do DaVin­ci to turn the sit­u­a­tion around, with eleven sketch­es from life por­tray­ing cats in char­ac­ter­is­tic pos­es, much as we see them today. We’ll delve more into that in a future post.

Con­rad of Megen­berg, ‘Das Buch der Natur’, Ger­many ca. 1434. Stras­bourg, Bib­lio­thèque nationale et uni­ver­si­taire, Ms.2.264, fol. 85r

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2022.

Relat­ed Con­tent

What Peo­ple Named Their Cats in the Mid­dle Ages: Gyb, Mite, Méone, Pan­gur Bán & More

Cats Migrat­ed to Europe 7,000 Years Ear­li­er Than Once Thought

Cats in Japan­ese Wood­block Prints: How Japan’s Favorite Ani­mals Came to Star in Its Pop­u­lar Art

An Ani­mat­ed His­to­ry of Cats: How Over 10,000 Years the Cat Went from Wild Preda­tor to Sofa Side­kick

- Ayun Hal­l­i­day is the Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist in NYC.

The Greek Mythology Family Tree: A Visual Guide Shows How Zeus, Athena, and the Ancient Gods Are Related

It was long ago that poly­the­ism, as the sto­ry comes down to us, gave way to monothe­ism. Human­i­ty used to have many gods, and now almost every reli­gious believ­er acknowl­edges just one — though which god, exact­ly, does vary. Some pop­u­lar the­o­ries of “big his­to­ry” hold that, as the scale of a soci­ety grows larg­er, the num­ber of deities pro­posed by its faiths gets small­er. In that scheme, it makes sense that the grow­ing Roman Empire would even­tu­al­ly adopt Chris­tian­i­ty, and also that the gods it first inher­it­ed from the city-states of ancient Greece would be so numer­ous. Through our mod­ern eyes, the var­i­ous immor­tals invoked so read­i­ly by the Greeks look less like holy fig­ures than a cast of char­ac­ters in a long-run­ning tele­vi­sion dra­ma.

Or maybe it would have to be a soap opera, giv­en that most of them belong to one big, often trou­bled clan. Hence the struc­ture of Use­fulCharts’ Greek Mythol­o­gy Fam­i­ly Tree, explained in the video above. Also avail­able for pur­chase in poster form, it clear­ly dia­grams the rela­tion­ships between every­one in the Greek pan­theon, from the high­est “pri­mor­dial gods” like Eros Elder and Gaia down to the chil­dren of Zeus and Posei­don.

How­ev­er pow­er­ful they could be — and some were pow­er­ful indeed — none of these gods act­ed like the infal­li­ble, omni­scient enti­ties of the major reli­gions we know today. They could act capri­cious­ly, venge­ful­ly and even non­sen­si­cal­ly, a reflec­tion of the often capricious‑, vengeful‑, and non­sen­si­cal-seem­ing nature of life in the ancient world.

For the Greeks them­selves, these myth­i­cal gods and mon­sters offered not just an explana­to­ry mech­a­nism, but also a form of enter­tain­ment, giv­en that noth­ing could go on in their ele­vat­ed world with­out high dra­ma. For us, they remain present in leg­ends from which we still draw inspi­ra­tion for our own larg­er-than-life sto­ries of hero­ism and vil­lainy, but also in our very lan­guage. Con­sid­er the ways in which we con­tin­ue to evoke the likes of the time-rul­ing Chronos, the love-bring­ing Cupid, the androg­y­nous Her­maph­ro­di­tus, or the mul­ti-head­ed Hydra in every­day speech. Though we may no longer need them to orga­nize our soci­eties, some of them have kept play­ing roles in the age of monothe­ism — which, what­ev­er its oth­er advan­tages, does­n’t require us to con­sult dia­grams to know who’s who.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Mythos: An Ani­ma­tion Retells Time­less Greek Myths with Abstract Mod­ern Designs

Mythol­o­gy Expert Reviews Depic­tions of Greek & Roman Myths in Pop­u­lar Movies and TV Shows

How the Ancient Greeks Built Their Mag­nif­i­cent Tem­ples: The Art of Ancient Engi­neer­ing

18 Clas­sic Myths Explained with Ani­ma­tion: Pandora’s Box, Sisy­phus & More

Con­cepts of the Hero in Greek Civ­i­liza­tion (A Free Har­vard Course)

A Visu­al Time­line of World His­to­ry: Watch the Rise & Fall of Civ­i­liza­tions Over 5,000 Years

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

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