Dionysus never actually existed, but could be interacted with as though he did, because the "negative space" left by Zagreus' death echoed in the presence of the other Olympians as tangible sorrow and joy commingled, defining a "god" by the absence of one.

Now this story has no place in Olympian myths, because the Olympian myths are a compiled mass-marketing of pre-Delian myths further squeezed through the Roman lens and then, later, the British Historian lens and that idea just...doesn't fit.

I mean, the pop-culture retellings talk about some of the heroes and sometimes even the Fates, but they don't talk about the Erinyes or the lesser gods or the pillars of the Underworld or the great realms of the Sea and THAT mythology. This wild story? Forget it.

But there was, at one point, a god that could only be defined as what he wasn't, because he didn't exist, and was therefore unknowable.

OH. One more tidbit.

Did you know there's a high likelihood that Thessalonian Dionysus showed up in the Bible?

In Acts 17:23, Paul was in Athens and walking around the Areopagus (large forum wherein many gods were venerated). He spotted an altar labeled "TO AN UNKNOWN GOD" and used that as the basis for an impromptu sermon, in the time-honored style of philosophers everywhere.

The Pauline assertion is that "See, you worship that which is UNKNOWN, but I am here to tell you that the unknown is Josh Mason, the son of God, whose churches I am building right now, let me tell you about him".

And that's cool. Good object lesson. Relatable. 10 points.

The traditional historical assertion is that the curators of the Areopagus acknowledged that hey, Greece has uh, a LOT of gods. Not an Animist-level "everything is/has a god" lot, but LOOOOOTS of gods, not just the Olympians, and so they dedicated an altar to "gods unknown." OK.

However, it is also plausible, based on Greek syntax, that the actual inscription would be better translated as "To the god that is UNKNOWABLE".

Such as a god that exists only because of his reflection in the universe and humanity.

So! I think this is it? Mostly? I mean, not REALLY, there's so much there. Mythology is, quite literally, a religious experience to delve into and learn from. But I can't think of a better place to leave it for now than the most audacious idea of a god that imagined himself.

I don't actually know how to end one of these, so uh...I guess I can try to answer questions! Or throw out other interesting tidbits!

I should see if I can contact the professor, get the names of those textbooks. I would really like to get sources back. Feels bad without 'em.

UPDATE: I promised an easter egg! I talked earlier about the can-can!

Well I guess I Can-Can talk a little more about that!

....oh lord I feel remorse for that low-effort pun already.

Orphée aux enfers (translated: Orpheus in the Underworld, or alternately Orpheus in Hell / Orpheus in the Inferno) was a comic opera

a...

a COMIC opera.

About Orpheus.

Jesus, Offenbach, what were you thinking?

First performed in 1858, it was popular enough that by 1875, it had been revised from 2 acts up to a full 4, and was being performed at major venues.

Today, it's straight-up considered a classic piece. And the music is pretty good! Here's the Overture:

Orphée aux enfers was straight-up a satire/protest piece/hit piece. It was a musical parody of Orfeo ed Euridice by Gluck, and the Olympians behaved in exaggerated caricatures mocking the nobility of the time.

Yes, protest music existed in the 1800's too.

It recasts a lot of the primary actors of the myth, too. Orpheus isn't a mystical poet/bard, he's a country violin teacher. Eurydice isn't a spirit/muse, she's just his wife. He has to be bullied into getting her back.

This actually ends in a twist where Bacchus gets the girl after Orpheus looks back, but instead of being wracked with shame for his failure, Orpheus shrugs and says "I tried, she'll be happier there" and goes about his life a lighter man.

I don't know if I want to unpack that.

The most enduring cultural legacy of Orphée aux enfers is the infamous "can-can" dance, though.

The climax of the piece, before the ascent begins, is a raucous party on the shores of the Styx, where the Olympians are throwing a party.

...yes I know they don't belong there.

Zeus proposes a minuet, insists on it, everyone else says it's BORING, Zeus sings a song that boils down to "come on, fam, a minuet is okay!" and no one is having any of it, and so instead they start playing the Galop Infernal.

Jesus why do we call it can-can, that's way better.

The Galop Infernal, besides being an absolute BANGER, is a song that starts off, intentionally or no, as a hymn declaring dedication to Bacchus, AKA Dionysus.

From Eurydice.

Who is declaring her intention to pursue a Dionysian path.

Some lyrics here:

But the unintentional similarities don't end there: Orpheus, despite VAST dissimilarities to the classical and traditional Orphic figure, still:
- Descends into the Underworld
- Purifies himself through ordeal
- Emerges to life again, changed!

(I mean, you're retelling the story, so that's going to happen, don't get me wrong)

But unlike the classical Orphic myth, this version shows that an Everyman's view of purification and enlightenment may look a great deal different at the end of the tunnel than a Classical Greek Hero, and is no less valid a journey for it.

Additionally, there's something poetic about the enduring legacy of the Orphic myth's most prevalent European incarnation being a bawdy, raucous Dionysian dance (linked here again for good measure, I like the energy from the claps so they stay):