The Old Gods of Éirinn

A little bit about the little we know of Ireland's pre-Christian gods

Photo by Patrick Metzdorf on Unsplash

The pre-Christian deities of Ireland are the great subject of speculation and misinterpretation in modern scholarship and popular culture. Given what little evidence Pagan Celts left behind about their gods and their overall religion, it is best to make carefully-informed theories and ideas on the subject but the complete “truth” behind this area of history’s mysteries is mostly out of the question.

For the month of March, Senchas Claideb will be dedicating all posts to the lore, language, and history of Ireland, and this week’s post will cover what little we know of the old gods of that ancient isle. Additionally, I will be providing some ideas on how to use the gods covered in this post in modern remediations of Irish mythology.

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The image of gods in popular culture, I’ve found, usually seem to humanize them entirely, giving them identifiable motivations, personalities, and appearances that can make audiences connect with them without much difficulty. While this can, from a postmodern storytelling approach, create more of a relatable narrative for consumers who are long divorced from the worship of these gods. Some media that comes to mind that portray gods in such a way includes the Marvel films, Disney's Hercules, and Rick Riordan's Young Adult series about demigod middle schoolers. Personally, I prefer the more “Lovecraftian” approach (for lack of a better term) when it comes to the portrayal of gods, especially deities from cultures that distinctly did not see their own gods as human (e.g. the Celts). What I mean by “Lovecraftian” is less in the vein of looking like Cthulhu and more in the philosophical sense of mysterious forces or entities humans assign names and stories to that may grant blessings or banes to mortals who commune with them or trespass upon their domains.

We know incredibly little about the nature of many pre-Christian deities, especially from cultures that did not possess physical literature from before they were converted. Druids, the scholars and religious leaders of Celtic-speaking cultures on the European Continent and within the British Isles and Ireland, were said to have been forbidden from writing down their knowledge and instead memorized and transmitted the lore of their people and station orally. There is one episode in Roman history, however, that records a deployment of Celtic emissaries in Rome mocking marble statue depictions of the Roman gods, claiming they must have been weak deities indeed if they looked like humans. Based on the few accounts of Celtic religious worship from Classical observers and various material evidence across Celtic-speaking countries, we know that their beliefs had roots in nature- and ancestor-worship, which survived and was repurposed in the conversion to Christianity. The recognition of divinity in the natural world is something humans likely used to explain elemental phenomena and give reverence and identities to concepts and values integral to pre-Christian societies. The three pagan deities of Ireland I will be examining in this post embody these occurrences in nature and life.

The Dagda

A character from mythology whose name literally means “the good god,” the Dagda is a member of the Irish “pantheon” known as the Túatha dé dannan (“The Tribes of the Goddess Danu”). Based on his characteristics and actions in the primary story he appears in alongside other potential gods, Cath Maige Tuiread (“The Second Battle of Moytura”), Dagda likely served the role of a male fertility god with additional functions as a warrior and wisdom-keeper. At the beginning of the tale, there is reference to his legendary cauldron that the Túatha dé bring with them to Ireland from their four cities in the “northern isles of the world”: “From [the city] Murias was brought the Dagda's cauldron. No company ever went away from it unsatisfied.”¹ This artefact also indicates he likely had some role as a host or ring-giver in the sense of sharing bounty with lesser subjects.

In the episodes featuring him during “Moytura”, he exhibits the most telling evidence of his functions as a pagan god when he sleeps with the Morrígan to ensure his people’s victory over the Fomorians (the rival race opposing the Túatha). This act is representative of the father god of order and civilization (Dagda) taming a wilder, chaotic mother figure who embodies the land itself (the Morrígan). It is a motif that appears continuously in Gaelic myth and folklore, usually in the pattern of young men destined to become kings encounter a woman in the wilderness who reveals herself as a manifestation of Ireland’s sovereignty and makes said young men swear to keep the land healthy and prosperous during their reign. This is not to say the story of the Dagda was the first tale to feature this motif, but in terms of “lore chronology” this could be considered one of the first instances in the mythological canon.

Manannán mac Lir

When it comes to Celtic views of the afterlife or otherworldly plane where supernatural creatures dwell, bodies of water have been commonly seen as an access point to these dimensions where chthonic deities might have occupied. Manannán mac Lir (“son of the Sea”) rules over the domain of the sea west of Ireland and the mythic island of Mag Mell, which he inhabits with his wife, Fand. Manannán most notably appears in the Old Irish immram² tale Immram Brain (“The Voyage of Bran”) where he encounters the tale’s main character, Bran mac Febail, in the middle of the sea and describes what he sees from his perspective:

“Bran deems it a marvelous beauty
In his coracle across the clear sea;
While to me in my chariot from afar
It is a flowery plain on which he rides about.³

The nature of the Otherworld in Irish myth is subject to extreme speculation, but in many cases the witnessing of it has to do with perspective or sight itself. The concept of “second-sight” is not unique to Irish or Celtic culture as a whole, but it often plays a big role in myths and folktales regarding supernatural characters, places, and events. The Otherworld in Irish myth is most often entered—or inhabitants native to it are encountered—within liminal spaces. These spaces are characterized by their transitional or “in-between” qualities. For example, many supernatural creatures are encountered within fog or during dusk and dawn, and most commonly, otherworldly encounters occur outside of society. Bran’s encounter with Manannán takes place far from any sign of civilization and, although the weather and time of day are not mentioned, other liminal elements such as fog or twilight could also be present if storytellers chose to present them.

It is uncertain if any otherworldly locations, especially the mythical islands mentioned in immrama are meant to be sectors for a pre-Christian afterlife since most supernatural characters appearing in them are not dead and mortal characters usually do not have to die in order to travel to these places. Furthermore, Manannán is not described has having rulership over the dead or land of the dead, rather his domains are often abundant with life and eternal youth. It is more likely that the Irish—both Pagan and Christian—believed in the existence of an Otherworld that could be reached under certain conditions and contained wonders that exceeded what could be found in our mortal world. Reaching it could be dangerous, but if the stories are anything to go by, whatever was hidden on the other side may have been well worth the effort.

The Morrígan

Probably one of the more well-known Irish deities, the Morrígan is commonly regarded as Ireland’s war goddess and, while she does seem to embody that particular function, she also has other functions as a sovereignty goddess. As mentioned above in Dagda’s entry, the Morrígan plays a pivotal role in the story Cath Maige Tuired, assisting the Túatha dé against the Fomorians. She gives assistance after sleeping with the Dagda, and later during a summit with Lú, the king of the Túatha, contributes the following to the war effort: “‘I have stood fast; I shall pursue what was watched; I will be able to kill; I will be able to destroy those who might be subdued.’”⁴ Towards the end of the tale, the Morrígan also displays prophetic abilities by predicting the end of the world and the complete collapse of society and order.⁵

The other most notable appearance of the Morrígan (or goddesses or spirits directly related to her) appear in the stories of Cú Chulainn. As I explain in my reviews of Hound,⁶ Paul J. Bolger’s graphic novel adaptation of Cú Chulainn’s saga, the Morrígan does not play as integral a role to Cú Chulainn’s life and violent nature as the adaptation and other popular beliefs make her out to be.

Her first appearance is in Cú Chulainn’s Boyhood Deeds as the Badb, a scald-crow and embodiment of the goddess of war, where she mocks him for being bested by a crippled phantom, provoking him to fight harder. Cú Chulainn’s response to the Badb’s taunts, however, does not have anything to do with her being an aspect of a war goddess, as other characters sometimes taunt Cú Chulainn to bring out his anger in a fight if he is losing. The Badb’s appearance in this episode is on an ármag, or slaughter-field, following a massive battle, which may hint towards her functions as a war goddess that can be found around violence and slaughter.

The other notable appearance of the Morrígan is during the Táin Bó Cúailnge (“The Cattle Raid of Cooley”) where she tries to tempt Cú Chulainn into sleeping with her but he rebukes her. She then attempts to sabotage him in the forms of three different animals: an eel, a wolf, and a heifer. He deals three injuries to her in her animal forms—breaking her ribs as an eel, rupturing one of her eyes with a sling stone while she is a wolf, and breaking one of her legs while she is a heifer. Later on, Cú Chulainn encounters the Morrígan in the form of a crone milking a cow. By this point, Cú Chulainn is weary from fighting the entirety of Connacht’s forces by himself and asks the Morrígan if he can drink the cow’s milk. She answers that he can so long that each of her injuries are healed for every draught he takes of the milk, which he agrees to. This is pretty much the extent of the Morrígan’s involvement with the life and deeds of Cú Chulainn, her role obviously having been expanded in Hound and other interpretations of Irish myth.

Using the Irish Gods in Stories

As a bonus part to this post, I decided to include some tips on how writers might use these gods and other Celtic gods in fictional stories. Most of this advice will be specifically for incorporating these gods into pieces that take place during the time they would have been worshipped or at least written about in medieval sagas—as stated above, I’m not exactly a fan of modernizing or humanizing gods, but there can be some cases to show the new clashing with the old if handled well.

One of the major qualities writers should maintain when it comes to these gods—or any gods in my opinion—is to keep them mysterious yet ever-present in the world and lives of a story’s characters. This may seem paradoxical, but Celtic-speaking cultures of antiquity and into the modern day believed that the gods—or at least otherworldly beings—were present in almost all aspects of life. They might not have direct influence or control over every single aspect of individual lives or be so intrusive as to have an almost 1984 surveillance over mortals, but characters might at least be conscious of their actions or potential trespasses against the gods. Some characters, like Cú Chulainn, might even directly rebuke certain gods if they are headstrong or uncontrollable. Although this might come back to bite them in some way, the gods might even find taking out an unruly mortal to be a challenging task if he is cunning or wild enough to shake off their attempts to bring his downfall—especially if he has particular geasa⁷ that prevent an easy death.

Another tip writers should bear in mind is to associate these gods with the natural world. Popularly, Celts and Celtic-analogues in fantasy media are depicted as nature-centric to the point of making them almost feral or regard even cutting down a tree as taboo. The Celts used materials from nature as was necessary for their survival, but in some cases would designate certain areas as sacred, such as special groves called nemeta, wells, hills, or rivers. Quite a few place-names in Celtic-speaking countries (or formerly Celtic-speaking areas) bear etymological relations to pre-Christian gods and may have been seen as worldly manifestations of particular deities or access points to the Otherworld. The exact number of gods in the Celtic “pantheon” is uncertain, but there likely could have been hundreds of deities or genus loci (or variations of them) based on certain regions, families, or individual belief systems. What is more, there is the theory of there only being one Celtic god who has thousands of aspects found in the natural world. This theory was most notably utilized in the 2019 video game GreedFall, which took some inspiration from Celtic myth, language, and history.

Lastly, try to avoid making these gods human. Although the stories they appear in portray them as taking humanoid forms, this could be due in part to Christian authors being hesitant to describe these characters as more than superhuman. I stated above that I prefer to keep gods in my stories more “Lovecraftian” in the sense that they are unknowable entities from nature or the cosmos that humans assign names and stories to in order to make sense of the world. A similar case could be made for portraying Irish or Celtic gods, by having them appear and operate in mysterious ways that remind characters and readers that they are not confined to the laws and personalities of human beings.

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Thanks for reading this week’s post! Writers of fantasy, how do you portray your gods and are there any real world pantheons that inspired your world’s belief systems?

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Special Announcement! New Story Release!

I am excited to share that DMR Books has released their latest anthology Die By the Sword Volume II! This collection contains twelve tales of sword & sorcery fantasy, including my latest story “Balefire Beneath the Waves” featuring my series characters Eachann MacLeod and Connor Ua Sreng.

In this story, the lads pledge their service to a gruff sailor who has been travelling the world with his daughter, hunting a mysterious sea monster whose existence has haunted him since his youth. Eachann, Connor, and the small crew of the mad sailor’s ship soon find more than they bargained for in the stormy grey seas north of Scotland…

You can pick up your copy of Die By the Sword Volume II in paperback, hardcover, or eBook from DMR Books’ website! Be sure to leave a review and spread the word with friends, family, and fellow fans of S&S!

1. Cath Maige Tuired: The Second Battle of Mag Tuired. Translated by Elizabeth A. Grey, 2003. §12. https://celt.ucc.ie/published/T300010.html. Original Irish: A Murias tucad coiri an Dagdai. Ní tégedh dám dimdach úadh.

2. Immrama are a genre of tales in Old Irish literature centered around sea-voyages that usually have religious elements.

3. Immram Brain. Translated by Kuno Meyer, 1972. §33. https://archive.org/details/voyagebransonfe03cairgoog/mode/2up. Original Irish:

“Cáine amre lasin m-Bran
ina churchán tar muir glan;
os mé im charput di chéin,
is mag scothach immaréid.

4. Cath Maige Tuiread. Grey (trans), §492-3. Original Irish: ‘[A]r-rosisor; dosifius do-sseladh; ar-roselus, aros-dibu nos-ríastais.’

5. The prophecy the Morrígan imparts at the end of Cath Maige Tuired goes as follows (note that the gaps in translation are present due to the poetic style she presents it in being incredibly complex even for experts in the Old Irish language):

Then after the battle was won and the slaughter had been cleaned away, the Morrígan, the daughter of Ernmas, proceeded to announce the battle and the great victory which had occurred there to the royal heights of Ireland and to its síd-hosts, to its chief waters and to its rivermouths. And that is the reason Badb still relates great deeds. ‘Have you any news?’ everyone asked her then. ‘Peace up to heaven. Heaven down to earth. Earth beneath heaven, Strength in each, A cup very full, Full of honey; Mead in abundance. Summer in winter
[gap: meaning of text unclear]
Peace up to heaven
[gap: meaning of text unclear]’

She also prophesied the end of the world, foretelling every evil that would occur then, and every disease and every vengeance; and she chanted the following poem: ‘I shall not see a world Which will be dear to me: Summer without blossoms, Cattle will be without milk, Women without modesty, Men without valour. Conquests without a king
[gap: meaning of text unclear]
Woods without mast. Sea without produce
[gap: meaning of text unclear]
False judgements of old men. False precedents of lawyers, Every man a betrayer. Every son a reaver. The son will go to the bed of his father, The father will go to the bed of his son. Each his brother's brother-in-law. He will not seek any woman outside his house
[gap: meaning of text unclear]
An evil time, Son will deceive his father, Daughter will deceive...’

Cath Maige Tuired. Grey (trans.), §815-41.

6. To see my thoughts on Hound, check out my review posts:

"Hound" Review

"Hound" The Scholarly Review I - The Conception and Boyhood Deeds of Cú Chulainn

"Hound" The Scholarly Review II - The Wooing of Emer and Training of Cú Chulainn

7. A geis (pl. geasa) is a special limitation heroes and kings in Irish saga literature either impose upon themselves or have imposed upon them as a way to restrict certain behaviors to ensure they remain just (as is usually the case for kings) or to make killing them impossible except under certain conditions.