An Introduction to Aleister Crowley, History’s Most Infamous Occultist

“Do what thou wilt”: as the cen­tral prin­ci­ple of a world­view, it may not sound like much, but at least there are always a great many peo­ple ready and will­ing to hear it. So dis­cov­ered Aleis­ter Crow­ley, the ear­ly twen­ti­eth-cen­tu­ry Occultist now remem­bered not just for his uncon­ven­tion­al reli­gious prac­tices, but also for his knack for gath­er­ing cults around him­self. It was in Liber AL vel Legis, or The Book of the Law, the cen­tral text of his reli­gion Thele­ma, that he instruct­ed his fol­low­ers to act direct­ly on their own desires, ide­al­ly with the aid of some rit­u­al­is­tic black mag­ick.

You can learn more about the life and pur­suits that even­tu­al­ly got Crow­ley dubbed “the wickedest man in the world” from the Hochela­ga video above. After liv­ing most of his child­hood under a Bib­li­cal-fun­da­men­tal­ist preach­er father, who died when Crow­ley was eleven, he was sent away to var­i­ous board­ing schools, then turned trou­ble­mak­er. At Cam­bridge, where he went to study Eng­lish lit­er­a­ture, he fell for the Roman­tics, then for the occult. After leav­ing with­out his degree, but with a con­sid­er­able inher­i­tance, he enjoyed the free­dom to trav­el the world, climb­ing moun­tains and attempt­ing to mas­ter the dark arts — not to men­tion tak­ing drugs and hav­ing affairs.

As he went from coun­try to coun­try, Crow­ley nev­er met an ancient reli­gion he could­n’t adapt to his own ends. But no gods made as much of an impact on him as those of ancient Egypt, specif­i­cal­ly Hoor-paar-kraat, or Har­pocrates in the Greek; Crow­ley claimed to have been con­tact­ed by the voice of Hoor-paar-kraat’s mes­sen­ger Aiwass, from whom he took the dic­ta­tion that became Liber AL vel Legis. Styling him­self as an Egypt­ian prophet, he preached one way for human­i­ty to push through to a post-Chris­t­ian age: “What­ev­er you feel like doing, go and do it, regard­less of pop­u­lar opin­ion or con­ven­tion­al moral­i­ty.” After all, it seemed to work for Crow­ley him­self, though the work of a noto­ri­ous occultist cer­tain­ly isn’t for every­body.

Nor could even the world’s wickedest man keep it up for­ev­er: “Even­tu­al­ly all the trav­el­ing, drug-tak­ing, and lib­er­tin­ism had caught up with Crow­ley.” His inher­i­tance dried up, and his addic­tions wors­ened. But he did­n’t give up on Thele­ma, even going so far as to estab­lish a com­mune in Sici­ly. Alas, the “respon­si­bil­i­ty-free lifestyle” advo­cat­ed by the reli­gion soon drove its head­quar­ters to chaot­ic dilap­i­da­tion. But just a cou­ple of decades after his death in Eng­land in 1947, Crow­ley’s glow­er­ing vis­age popped up again, on the cov­er of Sgt. Pep­per’s Lone­ly Hearts Club Band. He became the sub­ject of pop-music ref­er­ence not just by the Bea­t­les, but also David Bowie, Iron Maid­en, and the late Ozzy Osbourne. “Genius? Insane? Vision­ary? Fraud? Free­thinker? Cult leader?” We might grant Aleis­ter Crow­ley all these titles, and that of pro­to-rock star besides.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Aleis­ter Crow­ley: The Wickedest Man in the World Doc­u­ments the Life of the Bizarre Occultist, Poet & Moun­taineer

Aleis­ter Crow­ley Reads Occult Poet­ry in the Only Known Record­ings of His Voice (1920)

The Thoth Tarot Deck Designed by Famed Occultist Aleis­ter Crow­ley

The Sur­re­al Paint­ings of the Occult Magi­cian, Writer & Moun­taineer, Aleis­ter Crow­ley

How Aleis­ter Crow­ley, the Infa­mous Occultist, Led the First Attempt to Reach the Sum­mit of K2 (1902)

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Paradise Lost Explained: How John Milton Wrote His Epic Religious Poem from Satan’s Perspective

Par­adise Lost is one of the books which the read­er admires and lays down, and for­gets to take up again,” Samuel John­son wrote in the late eigh­teenth cen­tu­ry. “None ever wished it longer than it is. Its perusal is a duty rather than a plea­sure. We read Mil­ton for instruc­tion, retire harassed and over­bur­dened, and look else­where for recre­ation; we desert our mas­ter, and seek for com­pan­ions.” These near­ly two and a half cen­turies lat­er, how many of us attempt to seek out the instruc­tion of Mil­ton in the first place? What was a lit­er­ary hit in 1667 has become a work read most­ly by spe­cial­ist schol­ars — but will, per­haps, become a favorite among view­ers of the YouTube chan­nel Hochela­ga thanks to its new video above.

The first thing to know about Mil­ton’s epic poem, says Hochela­ga host Tom­mie Trelawny, is that it “tells the sto­ry of the Bib­li­cal fall of man — but, curi­ous­ly, from Satan’s per­spec­tive.” Even if it’s nev­er occurred to you to set eyes on Par­adise Lost, you’ve almost cer­tain­ly heard one of Satan’s most mem­o­rable dec­la­ra­tions: “Bet­ter to reign in Hell, then serve in Heav’n.”

There’s a decent chance you’ve also run across anoth­er, “The mind is its own place, and in it self. Can make a Heav’n of Hell, a Hell of Heav’n,” per­haps with­out know­ing which char­ac­ter speaks it. But if you hear enough of his quotable quotes, you might start to think that this Satan fel­low makes some good points after all.

Par­adise Lost had a sim­i­lar effect on some of its God-fear­ing ear­ly read­ers, who sus­pi­cious­ly start­ed to won­der whose side Mil­ton was real­ly on. What the poem seems to glo­ri­fy, when read today, isn’t Satan, and it’s not even so much God or man as lan­guage itself. Now as then, Mil­ton’s baroque gram­mar and heav­i­ly Lati­nate vocab­u­lary con­sti­tut­ed a good por­tion of both the work’s chal­lenge and its appeal. Equal­ly notable is his obvi­ous con­vic­tion that lan­guage is up to the task of address­ing the most fun­da­men­tal truths, ques­tions, and con­tra­dic­tions of exis­tence. Satan may not emerge vic­to­ri­ous — and cer­tain­ly does­n’t at the end of the sequel, Par­adise Regained — but if he hap­pens to have the best lines, that just reflects our greater, and thor­ough­ly human, fas­ci­na­tion with the bad guys more than the good ones.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Only Sur­viv­ing Man­u­script of John Milton’s Par­adise Lost Gets Pub­lished in Book Form for the First Time

William Blake’s Hal­lu­ci­na­to­ry Illus­tra­tions of John Milton’s Par­adise Lost

John Milton’s Hand Anno­tat­ed Copy of Shakespeare’s First Folio: A New Dis­cov­ery by a Cam­bridge Schol­ar

Spenser and Mil­ton (Free Course)

A Sur­vival Guide to the Bib­li­cal Apoc­a­lypse

Did the Tow­er of Babel Actu­al­ly Exist?: A Look at the Archae­o­log­i­cal Evi­dence

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Tibetan Musical Notation Is Beautiful

Reli­gions take the cast and hue of the cul­tures in which they find root. This was cer­tain­ly true in Tibet when Bud­dhism arrived in the 7th cen­tu­ry. It trans­formed and was trans­formed by the native reli­gion of Bon. Of the many cre­ative prac­tices that arose from this syn­the­sis, Tibetan Bud­dhist music ranks very high­ly in impor­tance.

As in sacred music in the West, Tibetan music has com­plex sys­tems of musi­cal nota­tion and a long his­to­ry of writ­ten reli­gious song. “A vital com­po­nent of Tibetan Bud­dhist expe­ri­ence,” explains Google Arts & Cul­tures Bud­dhist Dig­i­tal Resource Cen­ter, “musi­cal nota­tion allows for the trans­fer­ence of sacred sound and cer­e­mo­ny across gen­er­a­tions. A means to mem­o­rize sacred text, express devo­tion, ward off fer­al spir­its, and invoke deities.”

Some of these fea­tures may be alien to sec­u­lar West­ern Bud­dhists focused on mind­ful­ness and silent med­i­ta­tion, but to vary­ing degrees, Tibetan schools place con­sid­er­able val­ue on the aes­thet­ic expe­ri­ence of extra-human realms. As Uni­ver­si­ty of Tul­sa musi­col­o­gist John Pow­ell writes, “the use of sacred sound” in Tibetan Bud­dhism, a “Mantrayana” tra­di­tion, acts “as a for­mu­la for the trans­for­ma­tion of human con­scious­ness.”

Tibetan musi­cal nota­tions, Google points out, “sym­bol­i­cal­ly rep­re­sent the melodies, rhythm pat­terns, and instru­men­tal arrange­ments. In har­mo­ny with chant­i­ng, visu­al­iza­tions, and hand ges­tures, [Tibetan] music cru­cial­ly guides rit­u­al per­for­mance.” It is char­ac­ter­ized not only by its inte­gra­tion of rit­u­al dance, but also by a large col­lec­tion of rit­u­al instruments—including the long, Swiss-like horns suit­ed to a moun­tain environment—and unique forms of poly­phon­ic over­tone singing.

The exam­ples of musi­cal nota­tion you see here came from the appro­pri­ate­ly-named Twit­ter account Musi­cal Nota­tion is Beau­ti­ful and type­face design­er and researcher Jo De Baerde­maek­er. At the top is a 19th cen­tu­ry man­u­script belong­ing to the “Yang” tra­di­tion, “the most high­ly involved and regard­ed chant tra­di­tion in Tibetan music,” notes the Schoyen Col­lec­tion, “and the only one to rely on a sys­tem of nota­tion (Yang-Yig).”

The curved lines rep­re­sent “smooth­ly effect­ed ris­es and falls in into­na­tion.” The nota­tion also “fre­quent­ly con­tains detailed instruc­tions con­cern­ing in what spir­it the music should be sung (e.g. flow­ing like a riv­er, light like bird song) and the small­est mod­i­fi­ca­tions to be made to the voice in the utter­ance of a vow­el.” The Yang-Yig goes all the way back to the 6th cen­tu­ry, pre­dat­ing Tibetan Bud­dhism, and “does not record nei­ther the rhyth­mic pat­tern nor dura­tion of notes.” Oth­er kinds of music have their own types of nota­tion, such as that in the piece above for voice, drums, trum­pets, horns, and cym­bals.

Though they artic­u­late and elab­o­rate on reli­gious ideas from India, Tibet’s musi­cal tra­di­tions are entire­ly its own. “It is essen­tial to rethink the entire con­cept of melody and rhythm” to under­stand Tibetan Bud­dhist chant, writes Pow­ell in a detailed overview of Tibetan music’s vocal and instru­men­tal qual­i­ties. “Many out­side Tibetan cul­ture are accus­tomed to think of melody as a sequence of ris­ing or falling pitch­es,” he says. “In Tibetan Tantric chant­i­ng, how­ev­er, the melod­ic con­tent occurs in terms of vow­el mod­i­fi­ca­tion and the care­ful con­tour­ing of tones.”  Hear an exam­ple of tra­di­tion­al Tibetan Bud­dhist chant just above, and learn more about Tibetan musi­cal nota­tion at Google Arts & Cul­ture.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2019.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Breath­tak­ing­ly-Detailed Tibetan Book Print­ed 40 Years Before the Guten­berg Bible

The World’s Largest Col­lec­tion of Tibetan Bud­dhist Lit­er­a­ture Now Online

Free Online Course: Robert Thurman’s Intro­duc­tion to Tibetan Bud­dhism (Record­ed at Colum­bia U)

Leonard Cohen Nar­rates Film on The Tibetan Book of the Dead, Fea­tur­ing the Dalai Lama (1994)

The Old­est Book Print­ed with Mov­able Type is Not The Guten­berg Bible: Jikji, a Col­lec­tion of Kore­an Bud­dhist Teach­ings, Pre­dat­ed It By 78 Years and It’s Now Dig­i­tized Online

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

A Grad Student Asks Carl Sagan If He Believes in God (1994)

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Most sci­en­tists are pre­pared to answer ques­tions about their research from oth­er mem­bers of their field; rather few­er have equipped them­selves to answer ques­tions from the gen­er­al pub­lic about what Dou­glas Adams called life, the uni­verse, and every­thing. Carl Sagan was one of that minor­i­ty, an expert “sci­ence com­mu­ni­ca­tor” before sci­ence com­mu­ni­ca­tion was rec­og­nized as a field unto itself. In pop­u­lar books and tele­vi­sion pro­duc­tions, most notably Cos­mos and its accom­pa­ny­ing series Cos­mos: A Per­son­al Voy­age, he put him­self out there in the mass media as an enthu­si­as­tic guide to all that was known about the realms beyond our plan­et. More than a few mem­bers of his audi­ence might well have asked them­selves where does God fit into all this.

One such per­son actu­al­ly put that ques­tion to Sagan, at a Q&A ses­sion after the lat­ter’s 1994 “lost lec­ture” at Cor­nell, titled “The Age of Explo­ration.” The ques­tion­er, a grad­u­ate stu­dent, asks, “Is there any type of God to you? Like, is there a pur­pose, giv­en that we’re just sit­ting on this speck in the mid­dle of this sea of stars?”

In response to this dif­fi­cult line of inquiry, Sagan opens a more dif­fi­cult one: “What do you mean when you use the word God?” The stu­dent takes anoth­er tack, ask­ing, “Giv­en all these demo­tions” — defined by Sagan him­self as the con­tin­u­al hum­bling of human­i­ty’s self-image in light of new sci­en­tif­ic dis­cov­er­ies — “why don’t we just blow our­selves up?” Sagan comes back with yet anoth­er ques­tion: “If we do blow our­selves up, does that dis­prove the exis­tence of God?” The stu­dent admits that he guess­es it does not.

The ques­tion even­tu­al­ly gets Sagan con­sid­er­ing how “the word ‘God’ cov­ers an enor­mous range of dif­fer­ent ideas.” That range “runs from an out­sized, light-skinned male with a long white beard, sit­ting in a throne in the sky, busi­ly tal­ly­ing the fall of every spar­row,” for whose exis­tence Sagan knows of no evi­dence, to “the kind of God that Ein­stein or Spin­oza talked about, which is very close to the sum total of the laws of the uni­verse,” and as such, whose exis­tence even Sagan would have to acknowl­edge. There’s also “the deist God that many of the found­ing fathers of this coun­try believed in,” who’s held to have cre­at­ed the uni­verse and then removed him­self from the scene. With such a broad range of pos­si­ble def­i­n­i­tions, the con­cept of God itself becomes use­less except as “social lubri­ca­tion,” a means of seem­ing to “agree with some­one else with whom you do not agree.” Terms of that mal­leable kind do have their advan­tages, if not to the sci­en­tif­ic mind.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Carl Sagan, Stephen Hawk­ing & Arthur C. Clarke Dis­cuss God, the Uni­verse, and Every­thing Else

150 Renowned Sec­u­lar Aca­d­e­mics & 20 Chris­t­ian Thinkers Talk­ing About the Exis­tence of God

Hear Carl Sagan Art­ful­ly Refute a Cre­ation­ist on a Talk Radio Show: “The Dar­win­ian Con­cept of Evo­lu­tion is Pro­found­ly Ver­i­fied”

Bertrand Rus­sell on the Exis­tence of God & the After­life (1959)

Bertrand Rus­sell and F.C. Cople­ston Debate the Exis­tence of God, 1948

What Is Reli­gion Actu­al­ly For?: Isaac Asi­mov and Ray Brad­bury Weigh In

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

A 3D Model Reveals What the Parthenon and Its Interior Looked Like 2,500 Years Ago

Stand­ing atop the Acrop­o­lis in Athens as it has for near­ly 2,500 years now, the Parthenon remains an impres­sive sight indeed. Not that those two and a half mil­len­nia have been kind to the place: one of the most famous ruins of the ancient world is still, after all, a ruin. But it does fire up vis­i­tors’ imag­i­na­tions, fill­ing their heads with visions of how it must have looked back in the fifth cen­tu­ry BC, when it was a func­tion­ing tem­ple and trea­sury. One enthu­si­ast in par­tic­u­lar, an Oxford archae­ol­o­gy pro­fes­sor named Juan de Lara, has spent four years using 3D mod­el­ing tools to cre­ate a 3D dig­i­tal recon­struc­tion of the Parthenon at the height of its glo­ry, of which you can get glimpses in the video above and at the pro­jec­t’s offi­cial site.

Image by Juan de Lara/The Parthenon 3D

The mate­ri­als pro­mot­ing Parthenon 3D, as it’s called, empha­size one ele­ment above all: its almost 40-foot-tall stat­ue of the god­dess Athena Parthenos, bet­ter known mononymi­cal­ly as Athena. The work of the renowned sculp­tor Phidias, who also han­dled the rest of the struc­ture’s sculp­tur­al dec­o­ra­tion, it end­ed up cost­ing twice as much as the build­ing itself.

Though now long lost, the Athena stat­ue was well doc­u­ment­ed enough for de Lara to mod­el its every detail, down to the folds in her gold­en robes and the cracks in her ivory skin. Dur­ing the Pana­thenaic Fes­ti­val, which came around every four years, sun­light would enter the Parthenon at just the right angle to cause a super­nat­ur­al-look­ing illu­mi­na­tion of the god­dess against the sur­round­ing dark­ness.

Image by Juan de Lara/The Parthenon 3D

Of course, that effect was­n’t acci­den­tal. Even if we con­sid­er the cre­ation of the Parthenon to have been divine­ly inspired, we can best under­stand it as a work of man — and a metic­u­lous­ly thought-out work at that. For ancient Greek vis­i­tors, the illu­mi­na­tion of Athena would have been enhanced by the place­ment of roof aper­tures, reflect­ing water pools, and reflec­tive mate­ri­als, whose orig­i­nal incor­po­ra­tion into the space would come as a sur­prise to most mod­ern vis­i­tors. At present, Parthenon 3D offers the clos­est expe­ri­ence we have to a time machine set to the Parthenon as Phidias and archi­tects Ikti­nos and Cal­l­i­crates orig­i­nal­ly intend­ed. But as de Lara’s research notes, the build­ing also con­tained numer­ous incense burn­ers, so per­fect real­ism won’t be achieved until smells can go through the inter­net. Vis­it the Parthenon 3D site here.

Image by Juan de Lara/The Parthenon 3D

Relat­ed con­tent:

How the Parthenon Mar­bles End­ed Up In The British Muse­um

A Vir­tu­al Tour of Ancient Athens: Fly Over Clas­si­cal Greek Civ­i­liza­tion in All Its Glo­ry

Robots Are Carv­ing Repli­cas of the Parthenon Mar­bles: Could They Help the Real Ancient Sculp­tures Return to Greece?

Explore Ancient Athens 3D, a Dig­i­tal Recon­struc­tion of the Greek City-State at the Height of Its Influ­ence

The City of Nashville Built a Full-Scale Repli­ca of the Parthenon in 1897, and It’s Still Stand­ing Today

Artist is Cre­at­ing a Parthenon Made of 100,000 Banned Books: A Mon­u­ment to Democ­ra­cy & Intel­lec­tu­al Free­dom

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

The “Dark Relics” of Christianity: Preserved Skulls, Blood & Other Grim Artifacts

Chris­tian­i­ty often man­i­fests in pop­u­lar cul­ture through cel­e­bra­tions like Christ­mas and East­er, or icons like lambs and fish. Less often do you see it asso­ci­at­ed with vials of blood and dis­em­bod­ied heads. Yet as the new Hochela­ga video above reveals, the most famed Chris­t­ian arti­facts do tend toward the grue­some. Take one par­tic­u­lar­ly renowned exam­ple, the Shroud of Turin: hear the name, and you imag­ine a cloth bear­ing the image of Jesus Christ. But think about it a moment, and you remem­ber that it’s the blood­stained wrap­ping of a cru­ci­fied body — that is, if the tales told about it are true in the first place.

As with any reli­gious relics, you have to decide for your­self what to believe about all of these. If you pay a vis­it to the Basil­i­ca of St. Antho­ny in Pad­ua, you’ll see on dis­play the pre­served jaw of that holy fig­ure — which does, at least, look like a real human jaw. In south­east­ern France, at the basil­i­ca of Saint-Max­imin-la-Sainte-Baume, you’ll find a skull pur­port­ed to be that of Mary Mag­da­lene.

And we cer­tain­ly can’t rule out that it real­ly is, spec­u­la­tive though the evi­dence may be. The sit­u­a­tion grows some­what more com­pli­cat­ed with the head of John the Bap­tist — or rather, the heads of John the Bap­tist, four of which have been claimed in dif­fer­ent places so far.

“Dur­ing the Mid­dle Ages, relics were in high demand, and there were always peo­ple will­ing to sup­ply them,” explains Hochela­ga cre­ator Tom­mie Trelawny. “It’s often joked that, if you gath­ered all the alleged frag­ments of the true cross, you’d have enough wood to build a small for­est.” Even the Shroud of Turin has come under unfor­giv­ing scruti­ny. Radio­car­bon dat­ing has placed it in the mid-four­teenth cen­tu­ry, imply­ing a forgery, but more recent X‑ray tests sug­gest that its linen was made in the first cen­tu­ry, between the years 55 and 74: close enough to what we under­stand as the time of Jesus’ bur­ial. Debates over the authen­tic­i­ty of all these arti­facts will con­tin­ue for cen­turies — and quite pos­si­bly mil­len­nia — to come, but their pow­er­ful embod­i­ment of both “the deeply dis­turb­ing and the haunt­ing­ly beau­ti­ful” won’t fade away any time soon.

Relat­ed con­tent:

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

The British Muse­um is Full of Loot­ed Arti­facts

Europe’s Old­est Intact Book Was Pre­served and Found in the Cof­fin of a Saint

Did Psy­che­del­ic Mush­rooms Appear in Medieval Chris­t­ian Art?: A Video Essay

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

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

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

Whether or not you believe Jesus Christ is the son of God, you prob­a­bly envi­sion him (or, if you pre­fer, Him) in much the same way as most every­one else does. The long hair and beard, the robe, the san­dals, the beatif­ic gaze: these traits have all man­i­fest­ed across two mil­len­nia of Chris­t­ian art. “How­ev­er, these depic­tions don’t exact­ly match the pro­file of a first-cen­tu­ry Jew­ish car­pen­ter from the Mid­dle East,” says Hochela­ga host Tom­mie Trelawny in the new video above, an inves­ti­ga­tion into how our mod­ern con­cept of how Jesus looked came to be — and into what we can know about his real appear­ance.

First, we must turn to the Bible. In the King James Ver­sion, Rev­e­la­tion describes Jesus thus: “His head and his hairs were white like wool, as white as snow; and his eyes were as a flame of fire; and his feet like unto fine brass, as if they burned in a fur­nace; and his voice as the sound of many waters. He had in His right hand sev­en stars, out of His mouth went a sharp two-edged sword, and His coun­te­nance was like the sun shin­ing in its strength.” That’s it for the New Tes­ta­ment. As for the Old Tes­ta­ment, Isa­iah describes a fig­ure that could pos­si­bly be Jesus by cred­it­ing him with “no form nor come­li­ness; and when we shall see him, there is no beau­ty that we should desire him.”

This scant Bib­li­cal evi­dence hard­ly aligns with the high-pro­file depic­tions of Jesus we’ve all seen. For many around the world today, the “default rep­re­sen­ta­tion” is the down­right glam­orous 1940 por­trait Head of Christ by the Amer­i­can painter Warn­er Sall­man (a Chicagoan, inci­den­tal­ly, much like the new­ly elect­ed Pope Leo XIV). One could see that art­work as the cul­mi­na­tion of a fair­ly long his­to­ry of visu­al depic­tions of Jesus, which first became abun­dant in the Roman Empire of the fourth cen­tu­ry under Con­stan­tine. Accord­ing to Gre­co-Roman mythol­o­gy, “hav­ing long hair and a beard were sym­bols of divine pow­er.” Ear­ly Chris­tians thus “want­ed to present their god using sim­i­lar artis­tic con­ven­tions,” plac­ing Jesus in a league with the likes of Zeus.

That’s the basic look Jesus has in most rep­re­sen­ta­tions, from the botched Span­ish fres­co that became a meme to the cru­ci­fied Mr. Uni­verse in South Korea, where I live, to Andy Warhol’s Christ $9.98. And yet, accord­ing to the dic­tates of Leviti­cus, “you shall not round the cor­ners of your heads, nei­ther shalt thou mar the cor­ners of thy beard.” Trelawny takes this into account when attempt­ing to recon­struct the his­tor­i­cal Jesus, also not­ing that, since Jesus could only be iden­ti­fied by Judas’ kiss of betray­al, he must have looked much like all the oth­er men around him. The result, when all of this is fed into an arti­fi­cial-intel­li­gence image gen­er­a­tor, is very much an every­man, which may be as his­tor­i­cal­ly accu­rate as we can get. But then, each time and place cre­ates its own Jesus — and now, with AI, each of us can do the same for our­selves.

Relat­ed con­tent:

The Ten Ear­li­est Depic­tions of Jesus: How Art Visu­al­ized Jesus in the First Cen­turies After His Death

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

How Leonar­do da Vin­ci Paint­ed The Last Sup­per: A Deep Dive Into a Mas­ter­piece

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

Intro­duc­tion to New Tes­ta­ment His­to­ry and Lit­er­a­ture: A Free Yale Course

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

How a Papal Conclave Works, and Who Might Be the Next Pope

On Tues­day, the car­di­nals locked them­selves into the Sis­tine Chapel, offi­cial­ly begin­ning the con­clave to elect the 267th pope. First for­mal­ized by Pope Gre­go­ry X in 1274, the con­clave (a word derived from the Latin words cum clave, mean­ing “with a key”) fol­lows a high­ly script­ed process honed over the past 800 years. How the con­clave works, and how it came into being—all of that gets cov­ered in the Reli­gion for Break­fast video above. It’s host­ed by the reli­gious stud­ies schol­ar Dr. Andrew M. Hen­ry.

Below, you can also delve into the more recent his­to­ry of papal elec­tions. Cre­at­ed by Use­ful Charts, this video cov­ers every papal con­clave since 1958 and includes a pre­dic­tion for who the next pope will be once the white smoke ris­es. Who is the next like­ly pon­tiff? No spoil­ers here. You’ll have to watch the video to find out.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent 

Take a 3D Vir­tu­al Tour of the Sis­tine Chapel & Explore Michelangelo’s Mas­ter­pieces Up Close

When There Were Three Popes at Once: An Ani­mat­ed Video Drawn in the Style of Medieval Illu­mi­nat­ed Man­u­script

Pope Fran­cis Set to Release a Rock/Pop Album: Lis­ten to the First Sin­gle

Pope John Paul II Takes Bat­ting Prac­tice in Cal­i­for­nia, 1987

 

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