Dionysus and Jesus

Classics and the Bible: Hospitality and Recognition (A&C Black, 2007), John Taylor:
In Bacchae the god of the theatre appears as a character in a play performed there. Dionysus has come to Thebes disguised as a priest of his own cult. He brings a new form of worship from the east, but his origins lie in Thebes. He is the son of Zeus and the Theban princess Semele, though his divinity has been denied even by her sister Agave, mother of the young king Pentheus. He has made the women of Thebes mad and sent them to celebrate his ecstatic rites on Mount Cithaeron. Cadmus, the aged and abdicated founding king, father of Agave and Semele, accepts the new religion, as does the seer Teiresias. But Pentheus is violently hostile: he has the disguised Dionysus imprisoned, though the miracle-working god shows this to be futile…
The play is strongly intertextual with the Odyssey and with earlier tragedy. Like Agamemnon it is the story of the killing of a king, but it stands in an especially close relationship to Oedipus Tyrannus (written perhaps twenty years earlier, though set two or three generations later). Dionysus like Oedipus originates from Thebes and comes back there as a stranger: another boomerang journey, another story of a visitor coming in disguise to his own place. Bacchae is a narrative of host and guest with ambiguities. This is the account of an arriver: will he be received or rejected, bring havoc or blessing? It is a grim and failed theoxeny, but as in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter the gloom is mitigated by reflecting on what followed. Like many theoxeny stories, it provides an explanation of later ritual, and the final speech of Dionysus (surviving only in fragments) seems to have described the founding of the kind of cult from which tragic drama itself developed.
Reading the play from within the Christian tradition is like seeing the tesserae of a familiar mosaic rearranged in a strange new pattern. Mark Stibbe in John as Storyteller demonstrates the especially close parallels between Bacchae and the fourth gospel. Dionysus comes as a god in human form (and not just for a fleeting appearance as the Olympians in Homer typically do). He comes in disguise to his own domain. Unrecognised, he is rejected specifically by members of his own family (‘his own received him not’). He faces hostility and unbelief from the ruling powers of the city, but is welcomed by the meek and lowly. He works miracles. Dionysus as a prisoner answers the questions of Pentheus in a studiedly enigmatic way, so that we sense it is the interrogator who is really on trial.
This seems remarkably similar to Jesus before Pilate, again particularly in John’s version which gives us two notable dialogues not in the synoptic gospels (John 18:33-8 and 19:8-11). These exchanges are full of dramatic irony: they attest John’s stature as a creative writer, but they may suggest also the direct influence of Euripides. Jesus like Dionysus uses language in a less literal way than his questioner (‘my kingdom is not of this world’): he answers questions with questions, or with statements of a profundity and irony which Pilate is incapable of comprehending. Pilate’s own ‘What is truth?’ might indeed seem to a modern reader also potentially profound, but in its context it simply signals loss of integrity and control. The interruption of the interrogation when Jesus is taken outside, flogged and mocked is not historically realistic: it is perhaps indebted to the punctuation provided in Bacchae by the imprisonment of Dionysus between his first and second encounters with Pentheus. Jesus when threatened with crucifixion calmly replies that the worldly power of Pilate is derivative from God: this echoes the claim of Dionysus that imprisonment and violence are useless, as the god will set him free whenever he wishes (Ba. 498 and 504). In each text the interview ends with the superior power of the prisoner clearly shown.
Bacchae was a popular play in antiquity, often alluded to by later authors: indeed it acquired something approaching the status of a sacred text. For several passages in Acts a convincing case can be made for direct influence. The escape of Dionysus from prison in a miraculous earthquake (Ba. 580-603) is very similar to the experience of Paul and Silas at Philippi (Acts 16:25-30). Richard Seaford shows that this scene in Bacchae also resembles a more famous episode in Acts: the conversion of Saul on the road to Damascus (Acts 9:3-9). The two biblical stories and the Euripides passage allow a fascinating triangulation of themes, again with shifting typology. Saul is initially (like Pentheus) the persecutor, the opponent of the new cult, but it is an indication of how dramatically the story has developed that within a few pages Paul has become the incarcerated victim like Dionysus. Both on the Damascus road and at Philippi the suddenness of the divine manifestation is explicitly stressed (Acts 9:3 and 16:26), as it also is in Bacchae (576). An invisible voice and lightning are common to Bacchae and the scene on the Damascus road; the jailer at Philippi rushes in with drawn sword and collapses, as Pentheus also does. The followers of Dionysus like Paul and Silas are singing a hymn to their god when the epiphany occurs. Dionysus once freed reassures Pentheus he will not run away, and Paul similarly confirms to the jailer that the prisoners have not fled. Saul and later the jailer accept and are converted by the successive epiphanies, and the followers of Dionysus are turned from desolation to joy by the miraculous appearance of their god.
Bacchae may also colour other accounts of miraculous escapes from prison in Acts: the apostles when imprisoned by the priestly party in Jerusalem (Acts 5:19) and Peter after his arrest by Herod Antipas (12:7-10) are released by angels. The description in the second messenger speech of how the voice of Dionysus was heard from above and ‘a light of holy fire towered from heaven and earth’ (Ba. 1078-83) is a further possible model for the scene in Acts 9. The question to Saul ‘Why are you persecuting me?’ (Acts 9:4) shares with the plan of Pentheus to attack the women (Ba. 781-5) the assumption that the god is persecuted if his followers are. When later Paul recounts that incident before Agrippa, he says of the divine voice ‘it is hard to kick against the goads’ (Acts 26:14): this expression, unique in the New Testament, echoes Dionysus urging Pentheus not to ‘kick against the goads’ (Ba. 795). Convention or coincidence might explain individual parallels, but these examples seem cumulatively persuasive evidence of direct debt.
Alongside this is the separate phenomenon of thematic similarity, extending beyond the broad equivalence of story pattern noted already. Bacchae shares with the Bible a basic religious grammar. Wine is central to Dionysiac as it is to Christian ritual. The discussion in Bacchae of Dionysus in relation to Demeter emphasises the elements of bread and wine, the staples for which those deities respectively stand. The paradox that Dionysus is himself poured out as wine in worship (Ba. 284) has something in common with the words of Jesus at the Last Supper (‘This is my blood of the new covenant’: Mark 14:24). The importance of the vine in Dionysiac cult and iconography foreshadows its role in the imagery of John’s gospel (‘I am the true vine’: John 15:1). The herdsman describes how the worshippers strike rock or earth to receive streams of water or wine, with milk and honey also miraculously produced (Ba. 704-11): we may think of Moses in the wilderness, and of the attributes of the land towards which he is travelling (Exod. 17:6 and 13:5), as well as the miracle at Cana (John 2:1-11). The idea of incorporation into Dionysus by his worshippers (for example Ba. 75) is similar to Paul’s language about being ‘in Christ’ (Rom. 6:1-10 and 8:1-11). The recurrent contrast in Bacchae (for example 395) of true and false forms of wisdom is paralleled by Paul’s description of God making the wisdom of the world look foolish, and of the foolishness of God which is wiser than men (1 Cor. 1:20 and 25)…
Dionysus existed always on the fringe of the Olympian pantheon. He receives only slight attention in Homer, perhaps because (in character, or because of a populist following) he falls somehow below the criterion of epic dignity…The epiphanic aspect of Dionysus, stressed in particular by W.F. Otto, is now seen as central to understanding his myth and cult. The account of his arrival in one city in the heroic past encapsulates his character, because it describes also the impact of ‘the god who comes’ on the individual heart and mind.
Dining with John: Communal Meals and Identity Formation in the Fourth Gospel and Its Historical and Cultural Context (Brill, 2011), Esther Kobel:
Dionysus not only offers a parallel to Demeter but also to Jesus as providers of food. The Fourth Gospel alludes to the traditions of Dionysus in a number of other ways, as will be discussed in what follows… What is important for the present study is the way in which Eisele demonstrates and develops the parallels between the Jesus and Dionysian traditions. Dismissing Bultmann’s narrow definition of the miracle of water turned into wine as the pericope’s sole motif of importance with regard to Dionysus (a motif that is hard to isolate in the Dionysian tradition), Eisele investigates and develops other motifs of the Cana story that correspond to well attested motifs in the Dionysus tradition. Apart from the wine, this includes the wedding, the mother and the disciples. The wedding, with Jesus as the true bridegroom, alludes to Dionysus as bridegroom, visible for example in the image of Dionysus’ wedding with Ariadne. The mothers, i.e. Semele, as well as nymphs who take over mothering functions for Dionysus, and the mother of Jesus, play important roles in their sons’ lives. Finally, the disciples’ departure from the wine-filled wedding party alludes to Dionysian processions…
The earliest certain evidence of Dionysus’ association with wine is in the oldest surviving Greek poetry, dating from the eighth and seventh centuries bce. The most abundant evidence of Dionysus as the god of wine is found in Athenian vase-painting. Dionysus is associated with the production and consumption of wine and, as early as the fifth century bce, he is even identified with wine… According to Teiresias, Dionysus is responsible for the gift of wine to humankind: “Himself a god, he is poured out in libations to the gods, and so it is because of him that men win blessings from them” (Bacchae 284–285)… The idea that this god inhabits the wine and gets poured out in libations is obviously widespread. Cicero ridicules the idea that someone could believe in consuming a god, and calls this person brainless (amens, De natura Deorum 3.41). Such strong opposition indicates that this very idea must have been widely known… Wine is frequently associated with blood. The notion of calling the juice of grapes blood is well known in many traditions, Jewish and pagan alike (for example: Gen 49:11; Dtn 32:14; Rev 17:6; Achilles Tatius 2.2.4) Unsurprisingly, wine also appears as the blood of Dionysus (Timotheos Fragment 4).62 The idea of Dionysus being torn apart and pressed into wine appears in songs that are sung when grapes are pressed… Parallels to the Fourth Gospel are obvious. Just as Dionysus has brought wine to humankind, Jesus is the provider of wine at the wedding in Cana in John 2… A very striking parallel is certainly Jesus’ discourse in John 15:1-8 where Jesus says of himself that he is the vine. Just as Dionysus is the personification of the vine and is present within the wine, Jesus is the vine. He is not just any given vine, however, but the true vine…
Of all Greek deities, it was Dionysus who revealed himself most often among humankind… Dionysus is already close to humankind through his presence among them. Aside from that, he shares a very central characteristic with humankind. In fact, the resemblance transcends even the most crucial distinction between humankind and deity: Dionysus dies… In the end, his immortality is confirmed: after dying at the hands of the Titans, his life is restored… The Johannine notion of a god appearing on earth and interacting with humans is not new at all, as has been demonstrated from the Dionysian traditions. Even the idea of a divine figure that dies and comes back to life is not peculiar to the Gospels. Jesus and Dionysus share the intermingled correlation of “murder victim” and “immortal mortal.” Just as Dionysus is an immortal mortal who has experienced human death and whose life is restored by the power of the gods, Jesus is killed and resurrected through the power of God. Through this resurrection, the “ultimate immortality confirms his divine status.” Furthermore, both Jesus and Dionysus have a divine father and a human mother…
Eschatological hopes are vivid among the followers of Jesus, just as they are among followers of Dionysus. Followers of Dionysus turn to him and get initiated into his cults in hope of a better lot after death. The followers of Dionysus were originally rejected by their surroundings. Over the centuries, however, and certainly by the time of the Gospel’s origins, the cults had established themselves on a large scale, and Dionysian followers no longer feared persecution on the part of the Roman authorities.
The Formal Education of the Author of Luke-Acts (Bloomsbury Academic, 2022), Steve Reece:
Euripides’ Bacchae is the richest literary expression of the cult of Dionysus in antiquity. Before examining whether or not Luke knew this tragedy specifically, however, it is worthwhile to consider how familiar he may have been with the cult of Dionysus generally. The answer, as we shall see, is that the cult of Dionysus would have been very familiar to someone like Luke…
By the early Christians, the cult of Dionysus would likely have been regarded with some fascination, as the figures of Jesus and Dionysus and the cults that they spawned shared many similarities. Both gods were believed to have been born of a divine father and a human mother, with suspicion expressed by those who opposed the cults, especially in their own homelands, that this story was somehow a cover-up for the child’s illegitimacy. They were both “dying gods”: they succumbed to a violent death but were then resurrected, having suffered a katabasis into Hades, managing to overcome Hades’ grasp, and then enjoying an anabasis back to earth. Both gods seemed to enjoy practicing divine epiphanies, appearing to and disappearing from their human adherents. The worship of both gods began as private cults with close-knit followers, sometimes meeting in secret or at night, and practicing exclusive initiations (devotees were a mixture of age, gender, and social class—in particular there were many women devotees). Both cults offered salvation to their adherents, including hope for a blessed afterlife, and warned of punishment to those who refused to convert. Wine was a sacred element in religious observances, especially in adherents’ symbolic identification in their gods’ suffering, death, and rebirth; devotees symbolically ate the body and drank the blood of their gods; and they experienced a ritual madness or ecstasy that caused witnesses to think that they were drunk. These similarities were not lost on the Romans as well, who, when they first came into contact with Christians in substantial numbers in the latter half of the first century, were inclined to lump them together with the adherents of other mystery religions of the East and primarily with the worshipers of Dionysus.
Already in the second century, the early Christian apologist Justin Martyr was noting some of the similarities between Jesus and Dionysus (among other sons of Zeus): divine birth, death and resurrection, associations with wine, the vine, and the foal of an ass (1 Apol. 21, 25, 54). Also in the second century the Christian theologian Clement of Alexandria, who frequently references Euripidean maxims, and actually quotes Bacchae 470–2, 474, and 476 (Strom. 4.25.162.3–4), Bacchae 918–19 (Protr. 12.118.5), and Bacchae 1388 (Strom. 6.2.14.1), was asserting the superiority of the “mysteries of the Word” over the “mysteries of Dionysus” by appropriating the language of the Dionysiac cult in the service of the mysteries of Christianity (e.g., Protr. 12.118–23; Strom. 4.25.162)…

One of the most popular expressions of the cult of Dionysus was Euripides’ tragedy Bacchae… Could Euripides’ Bacchae have been known in one or more of these forms to the author of Luke-Acts? The answer, surely, is a resounding “yes.”… The prologue of Euripides’ Bacchae begins with a stranger—the god Dionysus in disguise—presenting himself as someone who is introducing a new religion, the Dionysiac mysteries, from Asia to Greece. This, in essence, is the situation that the author of the Acts of the Apostles presents in his account of Paul’s second missionary journey, when Paul, who is instructed in a vision by a Macedonian man to cross over from Asia, introduces the new religion of Christianity to Greece.
Both “divinities” δαίμονες/δαιμόνια are characterized from a Greek perspective as “new” νέος and/or “foreign” ξένος and their teaching as “strange” καινός. Pentheus, as king of Thebes, represents the Greek perspective on Dionysus in the Bacchae, and he refers to the “divinity” δαίμων throughout the drama in what must be regarded as negative terms—“new” νέος, “newly arrived” νεωστί, and “foreigner/stranger” ξένος—while he refers to Dionysus’s mysteries as “strange” καινός. Dionysus’s adherents never refer to him in these negative terms. In the Acts of the Apostles the most striking clash between the Greek and Christian perspective occurs when Paul introduces this new religion from Asia into the heart of Greek culture: the Agora of Athens (Acts 17:16-34). There Paul confronts the Greek intellectual and civic establishment. The Epicurean and Stoic philosophers accuse Paul of being a “messenger of foreign divinities” ξένων δαιμονίων δοκεῖ καταγγελεὺς εἶναι because he preaches Jesus and Resurrection (17:18), and they accuse him of introducing “foreign matters” ξενίζοντά τινα into their hearing (17:20). They apprehend Paul and lead him to the Areopagus to learn what “strange teaching” ἡ καινὴ διδαχή he is promoting (17:19), for the Athenians are fond of learning about that which is “strange” καινότερον (17:21)…