POTENTIALITIES OF LOKI The figure of Loki is as fascinating as he is problematic. Jan de Vries (1933), Hilding Celander (1914) and Folke Ström (1956) characterise Loki as a ‘problem’, while to Anne Holtsmark (1962) he remains a ‘riddle’. To this day scholars are divided on how to categorise Loki. Some call him a god, others a giant, an elf (Karl Weinhold 1849:13) or a demon, and often they do not define what they mean by these appellations .i Is Loki a demon? Or, as according to Jakob Grimm (1835) (1953:199f.), a fire elf? Does Loki’s alleged ‘fire nature’ (Karl Simrock 1887:99) imply that he is a ‘destroyer’ (Karl Simrock 1887:99)? Is he ‘evil’ (Hermann Schneider 1938:241), the Lucifer of the North (Sophus Bugge 1881:10)? The cunning trickster (Jan de Vries 1933)? Or death (Anatoly Liberman 1992:142)? Of course, a conference presentation cannot provide answers to all of these questions, but let us concentrate briefly on one of them, Loki as ‘evil’. To find the key to unlocking the mystery surrounding the figure of Loki, we must examine the literature. Most literary sources date to Christian times. Only few might have been created earlier, during the siðaskipti or even in “heathen times”. One of these is the skaldic poem Haustlöng. One of our major sources, the Snorra-Edda, is however written by a Christian, who seemed to have two main ambitions: 1. Gaining and increasing personal wealth and power, 2. Establishing and maintaining an Iceland independent from Norway. He wrote both Edda and Heimskringla between two journeys to Norway, where he argued for the independence of Iceland. Traces of his ambition for independence are reflected in Heimskringla (namely in Hákonar saga góða and Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar) which shows that the Norwegians gambled away their chance for a peaceful Christianisation, whereas the people of Iceland were clever enough to accept the new faith in order to maintain social order. On closer examination, Heimskringla should not only be understood as a history of the Norwegian kings, but also as a milestone towards the independence of Iceland. It is worth examining the Ynglinga saga in this light as well. The history of the Ynglingar could not begin with gods since to the Christian mind, these were not gods, but demons, which by definition could not be integrated into the family tree of the Nordic people and their Christian kings. On the other hand, misguided people serving demons and becoming deified by mistake after their death could. The description of the æsir and their worship corresponds to the understanding of demons and their worship as described by Augustinus in De Civitate Dei (Weber 2001:94). It may also correspond to common superstitions of afturgöngur and the Christian idea of necromantia as described by Thomas von Aquin for example. Snorri used this device to integrate not only (heathen) history, but also strongly rooted heathen traditions into the Nordic people’s self-perception within Christian times. Both of these formed the basis of an otherwise lost identity. This concept of demonisation only worked for the history of the Nordic people within Heimskringla, however. In his Edda, Snorri’s aim was to preserve the cultural tradition and art of skaldic stanza, which depends on the kenningar created on the basis of heathen tradition.He could therefore only use fine nuances. One example of this is the distinction between the álfar in ljósálfar and dökkálfar. Snorra-Edda is an excellent example of the art of connecting pre-Christian and Christian ideas often using nothing but fine nuances. This resulted in a mythological system and chronology that may not have existed before but one which had enormous impact potential. One of the general impacts – not only found in Snorra-Edda, but also in the Eddaic poems – is the ensuing descent of the “powers of chaos”. But the descent of personifications of these powers – of the giants, elves, Loki (vömm allra goða, as Snorri calls him) – also has an impact on the development of those gods who at first sight seemed to be connected to order rather than chaos. Of course these terms can only be used in a supporting role and any further discussion of them would be beyond the purpose of this presentation. We will therefore use them keeping in mind that they represent a modern and maybe not totally appropriate point of view. The gods become accomplices of chaos because they use the powers of chaos for their own profit without realising that this is one step towards ragnarök. According to Gylfaginning (42) they plot to cheat and kill the giant builder. According to Hymiskviða (34-36) Þórr kills a giant whose only “guilt” is to defend his brew kettle against Þórr, who wants to steal it. Lokasenna presents the gods as sinful and “morally condemnable” creatures who sleep with dwarfs and their own brothers and sisters, who betray their husbands and wives, who lose the weapon they need for ragnarök because of their horniness and so on. The gods are seduced by magic, their own greed and “evil” powers and therefore bear sole responsibility for their own doom. The Christian mind has no mercy for devils, demons and sinners of this kind. The Ynglinga saga (10) refers to Freyr as veraldargoð, a term that could not be any closer to Christian terms for the devil. Grímsnismál calls Óðinn Bölverkr – Skáldskaparmál (6) Yggr. In Eyvindr skáldaspillir’s Hákonarmál Hákon says Óðinn is illúðigr. In Galdrabók he is the Ille. These terms demonstrate the evil nature of Óðinn and the increasing manifestation of this evilness as time goes by. Nevertheless, this development could also take place in reverse. The Niðrstigninga saga refers to the miðgarðsormr when meaning the devil (Otto Gschwantler 1968:153). In the Stockholm Homelies Book someone noted miþgarþsormr over leviaþan (Otto Gschwantler 1968). There is not a single piece of literary evidence, however, that Loki was ever compared to the devil. The myths surrounding him (especially the closer ragnarök gets) do nevertheless show some parallels between these two figures, for example the captivity or role of scapegoat played by Loki in the giant builder myth told by Snorri (Gylfaginning 42), where Loki seems to receive all subsequent blame. There is no evidence in the myth, as told by Snorri, that Loki is guilty, but blaming Loki seems to draw the attention away from the collective guilt of the gods who wanted to cheat the giant of his fee . Loki must therefore take the blame for everyone. But that still does not excuse the ensuing deception and murder of the giant. Christians are unequivocal in their belief that you cannot escape your guilt even if you have found a scapegoat to bear it for you. And there is another parallel between the devil and Loki in hisrole as accuser (Hiob 1,6 ff.) (John McKinnell 1994), the diabolos in the original Greek senseii. In Lokasenna it is Loki who holds up the mirror to the gods so they can see where their greed and sins will lead them. He also refuses to go on playing the role of scapegoat. So, who else does? Baldr? Loki’s involvement in Baldr’s death is passionately discussed and is sometimes used to “unmask” Loki’s “evil” nature. But Loki’s role seems to be as doubtful here as the notion that the death of Baldr is murder at all. In Völuspa (31) the völva says: Ek sá Baldri, blóðgum tívur, Óðins barni, örlög folgin ... (Guðni Jónsson 1954:I,11) This is the only occurrence of tívurr within the Eddaic poetry. It might be a singular for the plural tívar “gods”, but the etymology is doubtful. It could mean “god” or “sacrifice”, and could be compared to the biblic appellation of Isaac and Christ (Ursula Dronke 1997:139). Together with the adjective blóðugr, the more probable meaning is “sacrifice”. In addition, the skalds know the kenning heilagr tafn “holy sacrifice”iii for Baldr (Húsdrápa 8). The third line of stanza 31 of Völuspá calls Baldr Óðins barn or “child of Óðinn”. Using the term barn for one of the gods is unique here. So what might barn imply? Of course, Baldr is the son of Óðinn, so why the big deal? As there is no reason for the völva to say something that obvious – she would not do this – the term barn must have some hidden meaning. Maybe she is touching a sore spot? The barn is not just “a” child, but also a member of the next generation, the generation whose time is yet to come. More bewildering is the well-known question that Óðinn asks Vafþrúðnir: What did Óðinn whisper into his son’s ear before the bál was raised (Vafþrúðnismál, 54)? Hvat mælti Óðinn, áðr á bál stigi, sjalfr í eyra syni? (Guðni Jónsson 1954: I,82) The bál could be a pyre for the dead Baldr. But what sense does it make to whisper into the ear of a dead person? What if Baldr was not dead at that point in timeiv? This raises the question of Óðinn’s role in Baldr’s death. Many variants of a three-god bracteate, the most popular of which is the Fakse bracteate (Copenhagen), show three figures generally considered to be Óðinn, Baldr and possibly Loki or Hel (Karl Hauck argues in various articlesv for Loki, Rudolf Simek 1984:56 for Hel). According to most of the bracteates, Baldr stands on something like a platform with a cult pole, perhaps a kind of stallr. Egill calls Óðinn vinr stalla, “friend of the altars”.