The Gods’ First Face: Totems, Myths, and the Ancient Sky

The Gods’ First Face: Totems, Myths, and the Ancient Sky

by Hasan Andrea Abou Saida

Before they were statues, deities, and later saints whose names were carved in stone, the divine had, in ancient times, taken on the face of an animal. Totemism, present in many cultures across every continent, is not merely a primitive superstition, but a universal symbolic structure—an archaic language through which humanity interpreted its place in the universe. The totemic animal was ancestor, protector, spiritual guide, but also a bridge between earth and sky, between microcosm and macrocosm. This red thread runs through the ages, transforming without ever breaking: the bison or aurochs became the sacred bull, ascended to the heavens as a zodiacal symbol, and finally became an icon upon a Christian altar—yet its archetypal core has remained unchanged through the centuries.

The pioneering studies of James George Frazer (Totemism, 1887) and Claude Lévi-Strauss (Le Totémisme Aujourd’hui, 1962) show how totemism functioned at once as a religious system, a social structure, and a symbolic code. In many tribal societies, clan membership was defined by the totemic animal, and marriage rules, food taboos, and rites of passage revolved around it.

“Totemism is the projection of society onto a cosmic plane: the social order is reflected in the natural order.”
— Lévi-Strauss, Totemism Today, p. 34

The totem was not chosen at random: it represented an original bond between the group and a natural force perceived as kindred—an archetype of universal scope. In this sense, totemism emerges as both proto-religion and proto-science, capable of ordering the world and giving meaning to collective life.

As Mario Alinei notes (From Totemism to Popular Christianity), totemism did not vanish with the advent of the great religions; rather, it changed form and was preserved through the dialectal language of the people.
The sacred animal was transfigured into a patron saint, the mythical hero into a Christian martyr, the tribal feast into a liturgical celebration. The underlying logic remained the same: humanity seeks in otherness—whether animal, divine, or heroic—a reflection of its own identity and a mediator with the sacred.

Thus, Saint Ursus, a figure straddling history and legend in the Valdostan tradition, stands as a perfect example of archetypal continuity. His iconography, popular narratives, and even the calendar of his feast preserve pre-Christian symbolic elements rooted in the animal and agrarian world, with particular reference to the totemic figure of the bear.
The bear, an archetype of strength, protection, and seasonal cycles, was central to ancient cults in the Alps and much of Europe. Among the Celts, it was associated with the goddess Artio, lady of abundance and protectress of wildlife, and with the god Artaios, linked to hunting and the sustenance of communities. The very name “Ursus” suggests a totemic origin: not merely a nickname, but the sign of a spiritual and symbolic bond with the animal.

The passage from the totemic bear to the agrarian deity and finally to the Christian saint occurs through a process of functional transformation:

• In the totemic phase, the bear represents natural power and the guardian of the community.
• In the pagan phase, it becomes a deity of hunting, fertility, and the protection of herds.
• In the Christian phase, the saint inherits the role of patron of domesticated animals and the countryside, blessing seeds and watching over the harvests.

The feast of Saint Ursus, celebrated at the end of January, falls close to Imbolc, the ancient Celtic midwinter festival dedicated to Brigid, during which the rebirth of light was invoked and seeds and animals were blessed. In its new Christian guise, the saint becomes the guardian of the seasonal threshold—the one who guides the community from the darkness of winter to the promise of spring.

This process of archetypal transposition is not an isolated case. Another emblematic example is that of Saint Christopher, the “Christ-bearer.” In some medieval depictions, he appears with cynocephalic (dog-headed) features, recalling ancient psychopomp deities such as the Egyptian god Anubis. Originally, the animal totem of the dog symbolized the guardian of thresholds, able to protect against dangers and guide souls through passages between worlds. Just as the bear was the guardian of the community and the agricultural cycle, the dog was the guardian of boundaries—watchful against chaotic forces and a sure guide through the territories of the unknown.

Finally, Saint Anthony the Abbot and the pig offer another emblematic case of archetypal transformation.
In the totemic phase, the wild boar was a symbol of strength, fertility, and regeneration—sacred in the Celtic world to the god Lug and the goddess Arduinna, present in Greek myths such as the Calydonian Boar, and associated with fertility in the Eleusinian Mysteries.
In the pagan phase, the pig became the sacred animal of agrarian deities such as Ceres and Cybele, and a central figure in Italic rites such as the Roman suovetaurilia; it also appeared in Norse traditions as Gullinbursti, the golden-bristled boar of Freyr and Freyja.
In the Christian phase, the symbol changes form but preserves its function: Saint Anthony is depicted with a pig at his side—an animal representing both temptation to be overcome and prosperity to be protected. In the Middle Ages, the Antonines raised pigs freely in villages, dedicating their meat to the sick and the poor, and the saint’s feast (January 17) still coincides today with the blessing of animals and fields, an echo of ancient winter purification rites.

These three examples—the bear, the dog, and the pig/boar—show how animal archetypes can transform across eras, religions, and cultures while preserving their symbolic functions of protection, transition, and fertility. What changes is only the cultural guise: the archetypal core remains, invisible yet alive, at the heart of communities.

Reinforcing this symbolic reading, Mario Alinei, in From Totemism to Popular Christianity, reports a significant example of totemic survival in dialectal language: in various areas of central and southern Italy, the wolf—also an ancient sacred and protective figure—survives as a metaphor and popular appellation. In Abruzzo and Lucania, calling someone lupe or luvaru does not simply mean “predator,” but attributes qualities of cunning, courage, or a protective role. This demonstrates that even when the animal cult is absorbed or replaced by Christian figures, the original symbol continues to live on in language, in idioms, and in the collective imagination.

In both cases, the symbolic thread remains unbroken: the cultural language changes, but the archetype endures. The bear becomes an agricultural patron saint; the dog becomes a Christian protector and psychopomp. Behind the Christian guise survives a symbolic heritage that unites tribal roots, pagan pantheons, and figures of medieval sainthood, revealing a continuity of meaning that spans the centuries.

Totemism was not only the worship of the earthly animal; often the animal represented a celestial figure. In many traditions, constellations bear animal names—Taurus, Leo, Eagle, Swan. These are not mere poetic nicknames, but true totemic transpositions into the firmament. The sky thus became a great cosmic clan, where each tribe of stars had its own animal-ancestor.

This connection finds support in the research of French scholar Chantal Jegues-Wolkiewiez, who studied the cave paintings of Lascaux—dated to around 17,000 years ago—for over a decade. Her thesis is bold: the animal figures in the caves are not merely hunting scenes or spiritual symbols, but astronomical representations.

By comparing the positions of the figures with the natural openings of the cave and the arrangement of the painted dots, Jegues-Wolkiewiez demonstrated that certain animals correspond to constellations: the great bull in the Hall of the Bulls matches the constellation Taurus, with Aldebaran as its luminous “eye”; the horse represents Sagittarius, and so on.

“Every image is also a sky. Paleolithic people read the stars in the same animals they worshipped and painted.”
— Jègues-Wolkiewiez, 2008 conference

This means that Paleolithic totemism was also an astronomical code: the animal was at once a protective spirit and a stellar marker, embedded within a sacred calendar tied to the solstices and equinoxes.

Another key perspective comes from the work of Giorgio de Santillana and Hertha von Dechend (Hamlet’s Mill, 1969). The authors argue that the myths of vastly distant cultures preserve the memory of the precession of the equinoxes—that is, the slow shift of Earth’s axis in relation to the celestial sphere.

The image of the “cosmic mill”—grinding the salt of the sea or the flour of time—would be a metaphor for the celestial axis around which the constellations revolve. In this context, many totemic animals in myths are in fact markers of precessional ages: Taurus for the Age of Taurus, Leo for the Age of Leo, Scorpio for the time when the equinoctial Sun fell within that constellation.

“Myths are not primitive fantasies: they are the repository of astronomical knowledge expressed in symbolic language.”
— de Santillana & von Dechend, Hamlet’s Mill, p. 54

This interpretive key confirms that totemism is not merely a “religion of nature,” but also a terrestrial transposition of cosmic energies. The passage from the sacred animal to the anthropomorphic deity, and then to the Christian saint, follows a coherent thread:

• the animal totem is the most immediate form, linked to practical needs and astronomical observations;
• the anthropomorphic deity integrates traits of the animal and cosmic powers, becoming a mythical figure;
• the Christian saint inherits the functions and iconography, but reconnects them to a new theology.

n this process, the archetypal core remains: protection, guidance, and connection between heaven and earth. From an esoteric perspective, this totem–god–saint continuum shows that humanity has always perceived itself as part of an animated cosmos.
The totemic animal, the constellation, and the sacred figure are ultimately three forms of the same principle: the archetype as a living force, which dons different images to speak to different eras and cultures. Totemism, therefore, is not a relic of a primitive past, but a living structure, still recognizable beneath the modern forms of worship and devotion. From the cave of Lascaux to the Gothic cathedral, from the Paleolithic bull to Saint Luke the Evangelist with his ox, the message is the same: humanity recognizes itself in the mirror of the cosmos and of nature.

Bibliography

Alinei, M. (2000). From Totemism to Popular Christianity: Semantic Developments in Italian and European Dialects. Bologna: Il Mulino.

de Santillana, G., & von Dechend, H. (1990). Hamlet’s Mill: An Essay on Myth and the Structure of Time. Milan: Adelphi.

Frazer, J. G. (1887). Totemism. Edinburgh: Adam & Charles Black.

Jègues-Wolkiewiez, C. (2008). Lascaux and Paleolithic Astronomy. Conference, Paris.

Lévi-Strauss, C. (1962). Totemism Today. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France.