Notes on Milk & Honey
Obair na mbeach
Intinn na mban
Imeacht agus teacht na taoide.
The work of bees
The mind of women
The coming and going of the tide.— Irish triad
This article explores the nature of milk and honey as otherworldly nourishment and magical substances.
Dairy products left on the altar or windowsill and yellow-white libations poured outside, on the stones laying flat on the ground. Amends made to the White Thorn by bringing honeycombs to the base of its root in silence, walking away without looking back. Infants and young animals given cloths dipped in milk to suckle, as part of a festival to celebrate the lactation of the cattle. Queen bees fed with royal jelly, granting them exceptional longevity. Fat milk churned generously in the morning to produce butter and cream for the household. Pure raw honey spread on burns to cool the fire off.
Gaelic and, largely, Gallic / Gaulish cultures seem to place a particular emphasis and importance on two substances, each respectively imbued with profoundly sacred qualities : milk and honey. Otherworldly nourishment of spirits, gods, and human beings alike, substances to maintain and strengthen or to propitiate and pacify, the two products, in myths as well as in practices, transcend species and natures to bridge earthly and heavenly realms together in holiness. Even a cursory glance at the Carmina Gadelica of Scottish tradition, for example, will bring back countless examples of charms, runes, and incantations, here invoking the beams of the gold of bees, and there the earthenware coolness of the cow’s product, or both. Milk and honey single themselves out as truly spiritually elevated substances. We may draw parallels, of course, with the « Land of Milk and Honey » of Jewish beliefs, or, closer to home, the ritual practices of Hellenism (what, exactly, are nectar and ambrosia? a question for endless consideration); and thus derive great knowledge about the nature of milk and honey as essential offerings, and as metaphors for blissful abundance, vital as they are, ingredients and signs of a healthy house, preserved and cherished. This piece of writing is but a humble musing, merely a fragment of a reflection on the presence and manipulation of two highly sacred substances.
Harry Clarke, Stained Glass Window for St Gobnait’s Church (1916)
The bee and the cow as spiritual and otherworldly creatures in Gaelic cultures are motifs found in pre-Christian beliefs as well as in scriptures and hagiographies. Brigid the saint, for example, is said to be fed by a red-eared white cow, a detail which seems innocent enough until we remember white animals with red ears were associated with liminality and, more precisely, thought to be fairy. This effectively is blurring the lore of the saint with that of the Goddess Who preceded her – but admittedly, I believe a sane dose of obfuscation is good, when approaching the lore of any mythical or saintly figure. That weird incompatibilities shall emerge from tangled symbolism in heavily syncretic cultures ought not be surprising. Still, we might ask ourselves what need of a fairy-animal for a companion would a Christian saint have, and reflect upon how a pagan goddess would, on the other hand… The convoluted stories probe at what we think we know, even more so when we take into account certain pointers which seem to be indicating that Brighid “is” not only St Brigid (whose domination over milk and dairy products is more apparent on her feast day and Imbolc’s Eve), but potentially also incarnated in at least one other Christian saint, with a strong link to blacksmithing. St Gobnait – whose name literally means « little smith », an etymology obviously relevant when examining the relations between the saint and a Goddess thought to preside over smithcraft – is patroness of bees and beekeepers. Here, the correspondence between bees and passed souls, from the practice of « telling the bees » to the bee as messenger of the dead, is worth mentioning : this saint probably took on a lot of motifs from the Goddess and thus we can assume that the Goddess held those motifs Herself.
If Brighid broadly epitomizes the sacredness of milk and honey in Celtic beliefs, She is not a psychopomp, and the surviving mythical evidence about Her is objectively sparse. Although she seems very well known in neo-pagan spheres, She is not, truly, and what we do know for certain, based on written records, amounts to very little. But She is for sure the inventor of keening – the first to cry after bloodshed for the death of Her son : the « passing of souls » indeed, seen from the side of the living. The bee as a spiritual creature with ties to otherworldly qualities and in particular providing otherworldly food thus makes a lot of sense : the boundaries are especially blurred for the Celtic populations when it comes to the nature, and perhaps more accurately described, the in-betweenness of the Sacred Three – Gods, Spirits, and Ancestors, dé ocus andé (gods and ungods). As a friend once jokingly said when talking about Irish gods : “Are they gods, are they fairies, we don’t really know let’s find out”. Bees are also very solar, which ties in nicely to the likelihood of Brighid being primordially a fire goddess, and specifically (half UPG, half not) a rising sun or dawn goddess, with cognate symbolism of rebirth and/or immortality. To that regard, it is to be noted that most of the occurrences in the texts pertaining to milk and honey involve, when not related to offerings, blessings, and in particular blessing of the speech, of the mouth, of the lips, and of the voice, which in turn connects to sacred utterances, and thus to the breath, and thus to the soul.
Securing a contract with invisible forces, based on sacrifice but also hospitality, meaning reciprocity, makes a lot of sense from a magical and spiritual perspective to establish a relationship. The fairy lore of Celtic cultures, in particular, abounds in references about milk and honey as sacred food to be left out to the willful spirits of the land, but it is worth noting that such consistency in folk beliefs endures far beyond Western Europe. Offerings are a way to show good faith, and are essential components of our interaction with such forces. The tale De Gabáil in t-Sída (The Taking of the Sidhe) in the Lebor Laignech (Book of Leinster), is often cited to exemplify the meaning of the cornerstone on which worship is built, and, in that regard, what paying your respect encompasses. In the text, a brief introductory paragraph proclaims the sovereignty of the Dagda as king of the Tuath Dé, the mythical race of Irish divine beings who were forced below ground, under hollow hills, after their defeat against the Gaels. It is thought that peace was to be maintained on the condition that the human race paid tribute to the divine with milk and grain offerings. Failing that, the Tuath Dé would blight the crops and destroy the produce of the Gaels, leading to famine, hostility, disturbances, and eventually great turmoil. We see here very clearly that there is an expectation of worship, that human beings were expected to carry a task of sustenance for the gods, and maintain a regular schedule (the harvest). That what little survives of Celtic calendars centers around harvest festivals thus becomes all the more significant.
When I went through what can only be retrospectively described as a spiritual rebirth, when the capacities with which I had been bestowed started to really sink in, and with them the knowledge of their responsibility – where I acknowledged the weight coming with fairy doctoring – my beliefs changed, of course, and my worldview – but so did my body. I went through a curious phase where intense cravings would keep me or wake me up at night, and prompt me to specifically devour the milk and honey supply of my pantry at all sorts of odd hours. It was weird enough and recurrent enough that I expressed concern about it, gulping pints after pints and pots after pots with copious voracity, to which I was reassured that it was all part of the process, and that I ought to listen to the callings and desires of my body to ‘feed the spirit-nature’. Transformation comes with a price. UPG naturally derived from such experiences, and instinct taught me that I should always have these products at home for fear of inviting bad luck around – I was already partial enough to flour, salt, and oil, especially on quarter days, to ensure the house would prosper all year round. It is fair to say things did not immediately click back then, nor did they make any sense. Still, the cravings endured, and subsided only when I became comfortable with my new allegiances and settled in my role.
Milk and honey truly are “magical” products, for their sacrifice to unknown powers can ensure the prosperity of the house, the peace of the land, and, broadly, good relationships between gods, ungods, and humans. But they also provide sustenance to the race of divine beings, thus creating or maintaining holiness. May we not then say that milk and honey are holy themselves ? Incorporated in daily offerings to curry favors and placate spirits or consumed in contemporary rituals, these precious substances symbolize ancient bonds and sacred allegiances, bringing us closer to those invisible beings we share the world with.