Praying to Zeus for Rain
Decatur Metro | November 15, 2007The recent controversy surrounding Sonny Perdue’s “pray for rain” vigil on the Capitol steps Tuesday has been played out for centuries. Nay! Millennia! The scene below from the Greek comedy, The Clouds, proves it.
From The Clouds by Aristophanes
But by the Earth! is our father, Zeus, the Olympian, not a god?
Zeus! what Zeus! Are you mad? There is no Zeus.
What are you saying now? Who causes the rain to fall? Answer me that
Why, these, and I will prove it. Have you ever seen it raining without clouds? Let Zeus then cause rain with a clear sky and without their presence!
By Apollo! that is powerfully argued! For my own part, I always thought it was Zeus pissing into a sieve. But tell me, who is it makes the thunder, which I so much dread?
These, when they roll one over the other.
But how can that be? you most daring among men!
Being full of water, and forced to move along, they are of necessity precipitated in rain, being fully distended with moisture from the regions where they have been floating; hence they bump each other heavily and burst with great noise.
But is it not Zeus who forces them to move?
Not at all; it’s the aerial Whirlwind.
Read the funny conclusion of the conversation in the continuation…
STREPSIADES
The Whirlwind! ah! I did not know that. So Zeus, it seems, has no existence, and its the Whirlwind that reigns in his stead? But you have not yet told me what makes the roll of the thunder?
Have you not understood me then? I tell you, that the Clouds, when full of rain, bump against one another, and that, being inordinately swollen out, they burst with a great noise.
How can you make me credit that?
Take yourself as an example. When you have heartily gorged on stew at the Panathenaea, you get throes of stomach-ache and then suddenly your belly resounds with prolonged rumbling.
Yes, yes, by Apollo I suffer, I get colic, then the stew sets to rumbling like thunder and finally bursts forth with a terrific noise. At first, it’s but a little gurgling pappax, pappax! then it increases, papapappax! and when I take my crap, why, it’s thunder indeed, papapappax! pappax!! papapappax!!! just like the clouds.
Well then, reflect what a noise is produced by your belly, which is but small. Shall not the air, which is boundless, produce these mighty claps of thunder?
And this is why the names are so much alike: crap and clap. But tell me this. Whence comes the lightning, the dazzling flame, which at times consumes the man it strikes, at others hardly singes him. Is it not plain, that Zeus is hurling it at the perjurers?
Out upon the fool! the driveller! he still savours of the golden age! If Zeus strikes at the perjurers, why has he not blasted Simon, Cleonymus and Theorus? Of a surety, greater perjurers cannot exist. No, he strikes his own temple, and Sunium, the promontory of Athens, and the towering oaks. Now, why should he do that? An oak is no perjurer.
I cannot tell, but it seems to me well argued. What is the lightning then?
When a dry wind ascends to the Clouds and gets shut into them, it blows them out like a bladder; finally, being too confined, it bursts them, escapes with fierce violence and a roar to flash into flame by reason of its own impetuosity.
Ah, that’s just what happened to me one day. It was at the feast of Zeus! I was cooking a sow’s belly for my family and I had forgotten to slit it open. It swelled out and, suddenly bursting, discharged itself right into my eyes and burnt my face.
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