The following passage from p. 172 is fascinating: “There have been many widely varying explanations given for the origin of the Germanic runes, the most likely and generally accepted idea being that they were derived – with the somewhat hazy Alpengermanen as intermediaries – from an ancient north Italic alphabet, which in turn was a derivative of the Etruscan alphabet that stemmed from the Greek. One of the puzzling features about runes is that their futhark does not follow the established ABC pattern of most other European alphabets. However, in putting the futhark side by side with the Glagolithic numerals, Turkish tamgas, astrological zodiac signs, and Sarmatian tamgas (Figure 21), the same strange tendency becomes evident: symbols related to each other by their outward appearance are to be found in the same numerical position within the system, regardless of their phonetic value. Thus the fifth rune raido has the same asymmetrical shape with jutting curl that can be found in Glagolithic 5, tamga 15, and the fifth sign of the zodiac, Leo. Similar relationships can be found between the seventh, eighth, and ninth runes of the futhark and their equivalents in other systems.”

However, as Old Norse scholar Anthony Faulkes points out in his essay “Descent from the Gods”, Snorri merely echoed what was popular in Iceland at the time. Euhemerism was adopted as a methodology by many Icelandic writers then as a way of separating revealed religion from natural religion (heathenism), which basically served the agenda of establishing Christianity as the sole arbiter of religious truth. Faulkes’ essay instead demonstrates the complexity of establishing the genealogies of the Norse deities as a reflection of contested hermeneutics. In other words, there is not one authoritative source, because the Bible is not a model for pagan (pre-Christian) literature. (The Bible itself is subject to critical analysis in academic biblical studies to draw out historical facts from its proselytising textual strategies.)

In short, Icelandic fascination with lands in the east (e.g. Scythia) in Snorri’s time certainly did not help in understanding the origins of the Aesir. It was a form of Romanticism – more aesthetics than historiography.

Once again, Heidegger’s notion of existential truth as aletheia is relevant here – definitely better than the heavy-footed approach of historical euhemerists!

While Snorri’s argument regarding the meaning of Aesir is not accepted in today’s Old Norse scholarship, the Trojans from Asia Minor nevertheless had an important role to play in the formation of the early history of northern Europe. There is a well-written essay available online on the historical ethnography of Swedes: http://www.osterholm.info/swedes.html.

There is also research to show that a form of runic script was once extant in Asia Minor.

On another note, the German philosopher Martin Heidegger wrote that the truth of myths was hermeneutic rather than scientific. Myth will always be part of what human beings experience as truth. Truth as the disclosure of the meaning of being – aletheia – differs from truth about the nature of phenomena (such as weather patterns). Aletheia forms the core of what it means to be human. Hence the rise of the Aesir and the Vanir at a certain point in European history signifies the aletheia of ancient Scandinavians. Their continued influence on Romanticism and then on postwar neo-paganism in turn signifies the aletheia of modern men and women.

No esoteric learning and practice can be done without involving the “imaginal”. While Heidegger never wrote directly on Western esotericism – one of its dominant currents being Hermeticism -, it is not difficult to see that his interpretation of the Greek notion of aletheia can work well with the imaginal.