“Lest Mysteries of Such Greatness Come to the Greeks”—Divine Revelation and Distorted Teachings in Hermetica

Abstract

Interpretations of the circumstances that formed the development of the Hermetic texts are still to be debated. However, these difficulties are not only philological in nature but also address the revelatory quality of the texts. The author of the sixteenth dialogue of the Corpus Hermeticum (CH) diminishes his work by claiming that the teachings contained in the treatise would actually only be understood properly if it were in the Egyptian language, not in its current form, Greek, because the Greek language is not able to reveal the truth conveyed by the divine power of the Egyptian language, but is only useful for logical debates and joking. The role of the written word, as well as its connection to oral initiation in Hermetism, is examined first in this paper. Second, we look at how the book and Egyptian writing mediating the teachings is portrayed as a sacred item in Hermetic initiation texts, as well as its importance in the initiation process. Finally, we examine the peculiar claim of the author of the sixteenth treatise of Corpus Hermeticum that, despite all this, it is possible to misuse Hermetic texts if they are translated, specifically, into the Greek language in which we can read most of them today. In studying CH XVI, I propose that Hermetic authors try to retain the famous character of the works by highlighting their Egyptian origin. They claim that Hermetic teachings can only lead to initiation in their original form but if they are translated into any language, they lose their divine power.

1. Preliminary Remarks: The Function of Written Text and Oral Teachings in the Hermetic Literature

In the following study, I examine the question of what peccata lectionis could mean in the context of the Hermetic literature.1 In order to accomplish this, we must first comprehend what a written text is, what a book or inscription that contains written lessons is, and lastly, what the purpose of oral instruction is within the framework of Hermetica. Since the question of how the final degree of initiation can be achieved is of key importance in Hermetic dialogues, and since ultimate understanding is uncommunicable, i.e., a kind of secret, the problem concerning secret is related to the question about the nature of written and oral teachings, so I will briefly address this problem as well. In light of all of this, we will finally examine the opening sections of the sixteenth treatise of the Corpus Hermeticum (CH). The author makes it quite evident that, in some situations (such as when the texts are translated), the written form of instruction may be abused in such a way that it not only fails to communicate the teachings but also simplifies and distorts them.

Since the earliest stages of research, scholars of the Hermetic literature have been concerned with the question of how writing, written texts, and oral teachings relate to each other in Hermetica. Given that our understanding of Hermetic teaching, the possible existence of Hermetic communities, and the dynamics of the master–disciple relationship relies almost exclusively on written sources—primarily the Hermetic texts themselves and some testimonia—we must turn to these texts to address such questions. Over time, a range of interpretive approaches have emerged, from Reitzenstein’s seminal idea of the Lesemysterien (Reitzenstein 1927, pp. 51–64), according to which reading the initiative text itself leads the reader to experience initiation, to more recent analyses,2 such as Södergård’s application of performative speech act theory to the language of Hermetic dialogues to explore how written texts might function and exert self-transformative power during initiation. In addition to all this, scholars have examined the structure and metaphorical nature of the language used by Hermetic authors (e.g., van Moorsel 1955; Klein 1962; Södergård 2003; van den Kerchove 2012), the character of the Hermetic logoi (Mahé 1978–1982), and the distinction between the so-called Genikoi and Diexodikoi logoi (Hamvas 2008). Understanding the function of Hermetic logoi seems to be also a crucial point. The term ‘logos’ has multiple connotations in Hermetic texts, including spoken language3 spoken language, discursive learning, and the Hermetic ideas. In light of this, the words genikoi and diexodikoi logoi describe the unique style of instruction that the master imparts to the student either orally or in writing. The first one covers the essentials and foundations, and the second one offers in-depth information for pupils who are advanced beyond the novice stage.4

In the absence of alternative sources, we must depend on the texts themselves to recreate the process of Hermetic initiation and to demonstrate that these pieces of writing were not only literary exercises but were utilised in genuine initiatory processes. Consequently, elucidating the intricacies of these texts and grasping their functional dynamics is crucial for situating the Hermetic literature within a broader intellectual and spiritual context and for interpreting their intended significance.

This study aims to enhance that endeavour by incorporating an additional aspect that, alongside the inquiry into the dichotomy between written and oral teaching methods, is crucial for comprehending Hermetic initiation. I am referring to the importance of secrecy and the impossibility of disclosing Hermetic secrets. Although the notion of ‘secrecy’ frequently appears in these dialogues,5 the readers may be disappointed if they expect the texts to reveal a definitive secret intended for the initiate. The responses received are often enigmatic (CH XIII) or banal (CH XVI), even to the authors or the interlocutors themselves. This may lead the critical reader to suspect that there is, in fact, no secret at all, and that we are merely witnessing a literary game played by the authors. This suspicion is reinforced by the sixteenth dialogue, whose author, as we shall see, playfully undermines his own authority.

However, if we consider that secrecy may serve a particular function, one that appears in other esoteric traditions as well, then it is not a futile endeavour to explore the Hermetic dialogues in the context of secrecy in an attempt to better understand the nature of Hermetic initiation and mystery. As such, we must also return to the texts themselves to deepen our understanding of these questions.

In addition to the theory of performative speech acts, recent discoveries and text editions have justifiably raised the possibility that the Hermetic literature may be connected to Egyptian priestly writings and to the so-called House of Life located adjacent to temples.6 A recently published text (see Jasnow and Zauzich 2014), which presents a dialogue—essentially an initiation—between a scribe and his disciple, may remind readers of the dialogues found in the Hermetic corpus in both tone and structure. The dramatic setting of the Latin Asclepius (Stefani 2019), situating the dialogue in the innermost part of the temple, further arouses suspicion that Hermetic authors may have been inspired by the House of Life associated with Egyptian sanctuaries, whose functions evoke the ritual elements discernible in Hermetic texts (Cf. Bull 2018, pp. 428, 432–38). The elements present in the Greek Hermetic literature include the master/disciple relationship, the significance of writing and books, and its association with learning and initiation.

The inquiry into the Egyptian strata or origins of these texts has produced an extensive corpus of research that cannot be summarised here (Reitzenstein 1904; Mahé 1978–1982; Fowden 1986; Mahé 2019). The focus on writing, written texts, and books, together with the emergence of teaching and the abuse of Hermetic writing (to be examined subsequently), points towards an Egyptian conception of the sacred nature of writing. This observation is significant because it highlights that, for Hermetic authors, these issues appear within an existing religious and ritual framework, rather than as purely fictional constructs, as was once suggested—most notably by Festugière (Festugière 1944–1954).7 At the same time, it is not inconceivable that an overemphasis on the Egyptian versus Greek elements, or an excessive focus on the question of origins, may lead us into a kind of interpretive dead end, obscuring the fact that we are dealing with a distinctive literary tradition that may integrate these elements in an original and creative way.

Consequently, although we will persist in addressing specific enquiries about the origins of Hermetica, our principal objective is to investigate the genuine teachings that the Hermetic literature provides concerning sacred texts (namely, writing and the book) alongside oral teachings and the danger of misusing language. We aim to comprehend the necessity of safeguarding the written text itself.

2. The Performative Power of the Divine Word and the Hermetic Text—Initiation and Secret

When reading the Hermetic texts, it becomes quite evident that written discourse and the act of reading play a significant role in the process of Hermetic initiation. A considerable body of scholarship has already been devoted to the question of the performativity of Hermetic texts, seeking to uncover and demonstrate how the Hermetic text itself may function as initiation (Cf. Hamvas 2020). At the same time, the texts themselves create a paradoxical situation: they not only present themselves as mere imprints of orally delivered dialogues, but often explicitly bracket or question this performativity by emphasising that a written text cannot have the same effect as an oral initiation. The latter statement may require some explanation.

We will examine the significance of books and written texts in several examples later. Conversely, on what grounds do we assert that the book diminishes in relevance at the concluding phase of initiation? On the one hand, the book has a sacred role because it contains divine truth. On the other, it is also important for the purpose of memorising the teachings, as shown by the gnomoi found in the texts8 (Mahé 1978–1982) and even by the collections of gnomoi themselves (e.g., SH XI)9. At the same time, some texts clearly show that in the final phase of initiation, the mind (nous), capable of sudden understanding, takes over the role of the discursive learning, logos. In the tenth treatise, the author makes a clear distinction between discursive learning, which can be acquired through the logos, and understanding, which can be achieved through the nous.10 Divine understanding can only be attained through gnosis, which completes the way of Hermes. Here, the author makes a clear and decisive distinction between the means of discursive thinking, learning, speech (logos), and mind (nous), the highest level of understanding.

A comparable doctrine is articulated in CH X, 5–6, which states that gaining true knowledge leads an individual to climb to the divine in their dreams: at this point, their senses are obviously dulled, and consequently, the book to be read also loses its significance.11

As we can see, those who expect initiation from the written word alone are bound to be disappointed. As we shall see, a dialogue (CH XVI) goes even further. The author suggests that the problem is not only that the written text lacks the performative force of oral revelation and initiation, but that this unique power is limited to teachings presented only in the Egyptian language. If a text attributed to Hermes is translated into another language, namely Greek, it not only loses its force, but also will be distorted: “Furthermore, it will be entirely unclear (he said) when the Greeks eventually desire to translate our language to their own and thus produce in writing the greatest distortion and unclarity. But this discourse, expressed in our paternal language, makes the meaning of its words clear. The very quality of the speech and the <sound> of Egyptian words have in themselves the energy of the objects they speak of” (CH XVI, 1–2, Cf. Copenhaver 1992, p. 58)12.

In this context, oral instruction transcends a simple interaction between teacher and pupil; it constitutes a performative act imbued with genuine magical potency, a potency sustained by the Egyptian language and script. Consequently, the teachings contained in the original Egyptian Hermetica are more than just elements of discursive knowledge that can be learnt. This idea is not merely an individual invention of the author of CH XVI. Further writings even provide illustrations of this concept. In the renowned Hermetic dialogue preserved by Stobaeus, titled the Korē Kosmou13 (Cf. Festugière 1942), Isis provides an extensive cosmological myth to his son, Horus, highlighting that the ultimate source of her teachings is Hermes, who is a soul “corresponding to the heavenly mysteries” (SH XXIII, 5; Litwa 2018, p. 107). In the opening sessions of the text, Isis is describing the creation of the world and souls, along with information about the origins of divine knowledge imparted to humanity within the created realm for future generations. In this context, Hermes’ books will play an important role a little later, but first we must emphasise the role of the creative divine word. The description emphasises that the spoken word of the Demiurge possesses magical creative power. Isis asserts that throughout creation, the Demiurge crafted diverse souls through secret, undoubtedly magical incantations. David Litwa translates it as follows: “He took a sufficient amount of breath from himself and, by an act of intellect, mixed it with fire. He blended this with other materials in an unknown way. He unified each of these materials with each other via secret formulas” (Litwa 2018, p. 110).14 It should be noted here that the interpretation of this passage is far from clear. The Greek equivalent of the term translated by Litwa as ‘formula’ is epiphōnēsis, which the French translation of Festugière interprets as incantation, highlighting its sacred or magical intentions. The use of the word here is quite interesting. The Liddel–Scott–Jones Lexicon, for example, does not cite the Hermetic passage but gives the only reference based on a passage from Plutarch, according to which the Greek word means acclamation, which does not seem to have a satisfactory meaning in this context. From the wider context of the cited excerpt from the Korē Kosmou, we can deduce that the Demiurge creates mentally (noerōs; through an intellectual act), employing a form of secret incantation. Overall, it can be said that the spoken divine word has magical and creative power, which is then manifested and formed in the performative power of properly used Hermetic texts. Consequently, as stated by the author of CH XVI, the Greek translation of the religious teachings diminishes the text’s inherent force. Thus, acquiring the fundamental Hermetic teachings through the Greek language is really an illusion, owing to the logical fallacies inherent in Greek pseudoscience, which will be employed by the language of translations.

The written Hermetic dialogues imply that the surviving initiatory texts in Greek, namely in translation, fail to satisfy the standards for authentic Hermetic initiation, as the performative aspects of the Egyptian language do not apply to them. This performative power is effective only in the case of the teachings expressed in the Egyptian language. However, the documents do not reveal the degree (if any) to which the performative impact of the original initiation is maintained in the revelations transmitted in Greek, while concurrently, the sacred and magical characteristics of the Egyptian spoken and written word confer the divine word’s magical potency. What is the theoretical basis for this assertion? Another part of the mythical narrative of the Korē Kosmou draws attention to the sacred status of the written text and the book containing it. In the introduction, Isis explains to his son Horus that, although the creator god wanted immortal souls (who were not yet human beings at that time) to know and admire his work, Hermes, who was all-knowing, has not initiated his son into the mysteries of the secrets of the universe due to the latter’s youthful age (SH XXIII, 4–5). The author thereafter included a brief digression regarding Hermes’ progeny, disclosing that prior to departing from Earth, Hermes left behind his books on heavenly teachings, for the illumination of his descendants, and all the future generations.15 Hermes even addresses his books and emphasises their sacred status with his words:

“O sacred books prepared with my imperishable hands! I anoint you with the unguent of incorruption and clasp you tight. Remain undecayed for all eternity and incorruptible throughout time, unseen and undiscovered to all who travel the fields of earth until Heaven in his old age fathers formations worthy of you, which the Craftsman called souls.”

(Litwa 2018, p. 108)

This story appears to be closely linked to CH XIII. In both cases, we read that for a time Hermes delayed the initiation of his own son due to his tender age (CH XIII, 1) and his unpreparedness to acquire wisdom. However, as we saw earlier, in order to acquire that knowledge, a book is required—not only as a tool for learning and remembering, but also as a sacred object, the actual storehouse of Hermetic wisdom, because the pupil will only be ready to use it if discursive knowledge has sufficiently prepared him for it.16 In CH XIII, 13. there is an actual reference about the significance of written discourses: “This, my child, is rebirth: no longer picturing things in three bodily dimensions. …through this discourse on being born again that I have noted down for you alone to avoid casting it all before the mob but [to give it] to those whom god himself wishes” (Copenhaver 1992, p. 52). This quote also highlights an essential element of dialogue: the pupil was not yet ready for initiation because he had not read his master’s writings thoroughly or, even if he had read them, had not memorised them accurately. Later (SH XXIII, 66) Hermes promises that the secrets of his writings will be deciphered by the Isis and Osiris, who will conceal them from the unworthy, while inscribing the fundamental principles of his teaching on stela.

Given this context, the significance of the author’s criticism of the Greek translation in CH XVI becomes clearer, as the process of translation and the Greek language fail to satisfy the criteria for being included in the genealogy of knowledge as established in the Korē Kosmou. According to this view, the Hermetic texts originate directly from the holy volumes of Hermes, which were transferred by divine mediation and are anchored in Egypt. The depositories of this knowledge are Isis and Osiris and the sacred inscriptions on Egyptian stelae.

If we add to this a comment from the so-called Aaretology from Andros, new perspectives on the interpretation may open. Here, Isis, as if echoing the Hermetic Korē Kosmou, confirms the statements already quoted from the Hermetic dialogue: according to Isis, she herself learnt sacred teachings from Hermes, which she refined, and then inscribed these sacred and fearsome words for her disciples (Litwa 2018, pp. 126–27). However, it is worth noting that the image of the goddess concealing certain aspects of knowledge emerges here, implying that knowledge must be protected from those who are unworthy and may abuse it. Consequently, divine knowledge must be documented in clandestine manners. We must highlight another crucial element concerning the sacred nature of the written hermetic text and the writing itself. The phrase “unguent of incorruption”17 certainly refers to an actual Egyptian practice: papyri were coated with a bitter compound to protect them from worms (Aufrère et al. 2021, p. 122). The Greek phrase (aphtharsias pharmakon, “medicine of incorruption”) suggests that for the Hermetic author, the written text and its material substrate had acquired such a sacred status that they required divine or magical protection. This motif also appears in another Hermetic source, the Discourse on the Eighth and Ninth, preserved only in Coptic in the Nag Hammadi Library (Cf. Robinson 1990). This text, like CH XIII, overall presents the climax of an initiatory process. The ogdoad (eight) and ennead (nine) referred to in the title denote the supreme realms to which Hermes and his spiritual progeny ascend upon attaining full wisdom while remaining in this world.18

The text in question is highly intriguing, both regarding Hermetic initiation and the features pertinent to our study. In terms of initiation, the dialogue clearly parallels CH XIII: both texts describe the final phase of initiation, during which the master and his disciple reach the divine sphere (in the case of the Nag Hammadi text, the eighth and ninth spheres) while still alive on earth.19 Our analysis highlights the significance of the Nag Hammadi text in highlighting the importance of written works and writing in the process of initiation. The narrative equates the sacred status of the physical object carrying the revelation with the discourse of the Korē Kosmou, ascribing a comparable role to Hermes. I shall analyse the discourse, concentrating on these enquiries. Similarly to the instance of the Korē Kosmou, I will concentrate on the sacred function of the book and its protective magic.

The opening of the dialogue is reminiscent of CH XIII. The disciple reminds his master to fulfil his promise and introduce him to higher cosmic spheres, as this is the order of tradition that must be followed during initiation. Hermes responds that this is true, but that the order of imparting knowledge is governed by human nature. For knowledge to be comprehensive, the student must thoroughly internalise each prior phase. “My son, indeed this is the order. But the promise was according to human nature. For I told you when I initiated the promise, I said, ‘If you hold in mind each one of the steps” (Robinson 1990, p. 322). We must emphasise that this is also a key issue in CH XIII. The initiate’s entire disposition and character determine the overall course of the initiation. The initiate’s self resembles a substrate that must be in an appropriate state to receive form, in this case, divine knowledge. In conclusion, divine revelation is objective, as it originates from a divine source that exists independently of the recipient, but the initiation process is also influenced by the specific spiritual condition of the disciple. Revelation is imparted through written hieroglyphs and oral instruction, facilitating the internal, now subjective, metamorphosis of the initiate.

It is essential to recognise that the Nag Hammadi text consistently emphasises the role of books in the acquisition of Hermetic doctrinal principles. At one point, the disciple mentions that he had previously studied the Hermetic writings, which is how he learnt about the steps of initiation: “My father, the progress that has come to me now, and the foreknowledge, according to the books, that has come to me, exceeding the deficiency—these things are foremost in me” (Robinson 1990, p. 323). This knowledge contained in the books is then immediately linked to the delight of the knowledge gained during initiation: “My father, I understand nothing else except the beauty that came to me in the books. This is what you call the beauty of the soul, the edification that came to you in stages. May the understanding come to you, and you will teach” (Robinson 1990, p. 323). The discourse explicitly highlights the significant function of books in initiation, as they are crucial for preparing the disciple for the final initiation and for memorising its steps for recollection (Cf. van den Kerchove 2012, pp. 135–40). As in CH XIII, silence is a key element here. As we shall see, silence represents the initiate’s rebirth. The solitary and internal experience of rebirth is what we identify with the secret: rebirth cannot be transmitted to others because exterior verbal communication would still link the initiate to the physical world. The reborn initiate, conversely, chants a hymn that resonates uniquely, in a spiritual way, understood just by him and his fellow initiates (NHC VI, 59–60). After all this, the text returns to the idea that Hermetic teaching has a special, sacred status even when it is written down. However, the teaching must be written in the proper manner and with the proper tools, as it must be engraved in hieroglyphic characters on turquoise tablets and placed in the sanctuary of Hermes:

“My <son>, write the language of the book on steles of turquoise. My son, it is proper to write this book on steles of turquoise, in hieroglyphic characters. For Mind himself has become overseer of these. Therefore, I command that this teaching be carved on stone, and that you place it in my sanctuary. Eight guardians guard it with […] of the Sun. The males on the right are frog-faced, and the females on the left are cat-faced. And put a square milk-stone at the base of the turquoise tablets and write the name on the azure stone tablet in hieroglyphic characters. My son, you will do this when I am in Virgo, and the sun is in the first half of the day, and fifteen degrees have passed by me.”

(Robinson 1990, p. 326)

This point in the text may also shed light on one of the enigmatic parts of the Korē Kosmou. As we have seen, the Korē Kosmou tells us that before Hermes ascended to heaven, he consecrated his books. However, a few lines earlier, we encounter a rather difficult-to-interpret statement. According to this, after Hermes explained why he delayed his son’s initiation, he gazed at the sky, and, grasping its secrets, he was to deposit the sacred symbols of the cosmic elements near the hidden objects of Osiris and then, after praying, ascended to heaven. The secret objects of Osiris could refer to the mummy of Osiris (Litwa 2018, p. 108, n 23), which is associated with the religion of Osiris in Abydos. If this interpretation of the puzzling phrase in the Korē Kosmou is accurate, it signifies that this section of the dialogue further underscores the sanctity of Hermetic teaching by directly associating it with the sanctuary of Osiris in Abydos. The Nag Hammadi text elucidates the role of the book within Hermetica and its status as sacred. Following Hermes’ instructions on the preservation of his texts, he protects the teachings within through a magical process, preventing misuse and ensuring that only sufficiently pious and open-minded individuals may seek guidance from the books:

“And write an oath in the book, lest those who read the book bring the language into abuse, and not (use it) to oppose the acts of fate. Rather, they should submit to the law of God, without having transgressed at all, but in purity asking God for wisdom and knowledge. And he who will not be begotten at the start by God comes to be by the general and guiding discourses. He will not be able to read the things written in this book, although his conscience is pure within him, since he does not do anything shameful, nor does he consent to it. Rather, by stages he advances and enters into the way of immortality. And thus, he enters into the understanding of the eighth that reveals the ninth.”

(Robinson 1990, p. 326)

In Hermetic writings, the text assumes a paradoxical role: lacking evidence that the extant works (in particular, the Corpus Hermeticum and the Stobaean fragments) are translations from Egyptian origins, we may infer that the authors either aim to augment their work’s prestige through an aura of authority or engage in a hermeneutic trick to convince readers that the texts genuinely impart divine wisdom. Additionally, I propose a third possibility: the authors may sincerely intend to convey a form of knowledge that presents an enigma for the initiate to decipher a secret whose comprehension begins with reading, yet whose complete understanding is attainable only through the release of the text and the internalisation of the knowledge via learning.

3. Leaving the Written Text Behind: Silence, Secrecy, and the Fulfilment of Initiation

The thirteenth piece of the Corpus Hermeticum is considered one of the core texts of the collection, as it effectively shows the peak of the Hermetic initiation and the inner transformation that occurs during the initiation. The enigmatic text indicates at first look that the pupil, similar to the situation with the Nag Hammadi text, fails to fully understand the situation. At the outset of the dialogue, Tat begs his father, Hermes, to disclose the path to rebirth, claiming that the time has arrived and he is ready. Nonetheless, he continues to be perplexed by one matter: “I do not know what kind of womb mankind was born from, O Trismegistus, nor from what kind of seed.” Hermes responds in an equally enigmatic manner: “My child (the womb) is the wisdom of understanding in silence, and the seed is the true good” (CH XIII, 2, Copenhaver 1992, p. 49). Given that we are nearing the end of an educational and initiation process, the need for silence becomes particularly important. Hermes asserts that regardless of Tat’s knowledge acquired from his master or the numerous writings he has perused, the ultimate objective of learning—wisdom—can only be attained in silence, specifically within the self that is to be actualised. Hermes contends that the knowledge acquired is not solely the product of human effort, but rather a seed planted by God, destined to flourish in accordance with divine intent. The metaphor is explicit: knowledge signifies the emergence of a new being who embodies the principle of receptivity. Hermes designates the latter as the womb, signifying the capacity to silently receive the divine seed within the real human being, resulting in the emergence of a new offspring: “The begotten will be of a different kind, a god and a child of god, the all in all, composed entirely of the powers” (CH XIII, 2, Copenhaver 1992, p. 49). We are now confronted with another dilemma, one that Tat, who is awaiting initiation, is unable to resolve at the outset of the dialogue since, at that point, he does not yet understand its core. The key aspect of Hermes’ instruction at this moment is that the secret cannot be articulated in words, even to the most devoted disciple, because the recipient of universal divine knowledge is a particular individual; consequently, the secret to be comprehended cannot be entirely universal but must remain internal and inaccessible to others. Observing Tat’s persistent confusion, Hermes attempts to elucidate that the condition achieved through hermetic knowledge is incomprehensible to others: “Now you see me with your eyes, my child, but by gazing with bodily sight you do (not) understand what (I am); I am not seen with such eyes, my child” (CH XIII, 3, Copenhaver 1992, p. 50). The quoted text becomes even clearer when placed in the context outlined at the beginning of the dialogue:

“After you talked with me coming down from the mountain, I became your suppliant and asked to learn the discourse on being born again since, of all the discourses, this one alone I do not know. And you said you would deliver it to me when you were about to become a stranger to the cosmos. I have prepared myself, and I have steeled my purpose against the deceit of the cosmos.”

(CH XIII, 1, Copenhaver 1992, p. 49)

At this moment, Tat appeared to lack a complete understanding of the precise concept of estrangement from the world. In the introduction, he posits that alienation is merely the process of readying oneself for the endeavours within a hostile, material universe that seeks to ensnare a human being, hindering the divine essence within the material body from escaping and, through separation, attaining its authentic nature. This is precise, as demonstrated later in the dialogue. Nonetheless, this claim is only partially accurate: as Hermes underlines, estrangement encompasses a significantly deeper connotation than merely a negative interpretation. In the beginning of the treatise, Hermes is estranged from Tat, as the latter endeavours to understand the process of Hermes’ metamorphosis and the essence he attains. Tat acknowledges this at the outset of the dialogue, asserting that he no longer perceives himself as his father’s son due to their estrangement:

“The begotten will be of a different kind, a god and a child of god, the all in all, composed entirely of the powers.”

“You tell me a riddle, father; you do not speak as a father to a son.”

“Such a lineage cannot be taught my child, but god reminds you of it when he wishes.”

“Father, what you tell me is impossible and contrived, and so I want to respond to it straightforwardly: I have been born a son strange to his father’s lineage. Do not begrudge me, father; I am your lawful son. Tell me clearly the way to be born again.”

(Copenhaver 1992, p. 49)

In this context, Hermes becomes alienated from Tat, but only because Tat attempts to understand the new Hermes through material means. This passage plays a crucial part in the dialogue because it points out that rebirth is spiritual, indicating that terrestrial familial connections are rendered insignificant: the initiate becomes his father’s child in a spiritual sense. At this moment, looking at things from the perspective of earthly family ties, Tat feels that he is a stranger to his father. The situation only changes after enlightenment. This contradiction is resolved at the end of the dialogue: having understood how one can be reborn with the help of divine powers, Tat concludes his initiation by singing a secret hymn, known only to the initiated, with his father Hermes, who has now become not only his biological but also his spiritual father, guiding him to rebirth. Tat can now see his true father in Hermes because he no longer sees him with physical eyes but understands him spiritually. In this context, a new aspect of secrecy emerges; one that may apply to mystery religions as well as to the Hermetic literature. According to this viewpoint, secrecy serves two purposes: first, it protects the truth from the profane; and second, the secret cannot simply be communicated to others, since it is an interior experience that cannot be shared. From this viewpoint, endeavouring to express the true nature of the Hermetic secret is futile, as the truth encountered is solely the initiate’s own experience. To an outsider or an uninitiated reader, such a secret may seem trivial, as the very essence of inner transformation remains beyond comprehension by rational discourse.20

This prompts the question of whether it is appropriate to presume that Hermetic written works serve the performative function outlined at the beginning of this study. Notwithstanding any misgivings, such as the hermeneutic play evident in the sixteenth discourse, I contend that we should not undermine the significance of Hermetic writings within the context of initiation. Egyptian authors might have regarded texts composed in Egyptian as more genuine; nonetheless, this does not negate the educational value of the Greek literature. The text alone is insufficient; without understanding the significance of the Hermetic secret, the Hermetic message remains incomprehensible. The authors consistently emphasise that knowledge ultimately requires a form of inner illumination, which entails particular spiritual and intellectual faculties that can only be acquired in an intimate milieu. Hermes articulates the identical concept: “True knowledge must be grasped in the deep silence of the soul, illuminated by divine truth: But to you, supreme god, I thank you for enlightening me with the light by which divinity can be seen. And you, Tat and Asclepius and Hammon, hide these divine mysteries among the secrets of your heart and shield them with silence” (Asclepius, 32; Copenhaver 1992, p. 87). The author of CH V21 and CH VII speaks of the “eye of the mind (nous) and heart” (CH VII, 1–2). When we connect this statement to the notion of true vision articulated in CH XIII, it becomes evident that we are not addressing a mere metaphor; the eye of the intellect facilitates an inner vision through which spiritual entities and truth, foreign to the material realm, can be comprehended. Consequently, Tat must perceive Hermes with his mind to comprehend his authentic essence.

It may be informative to augment the examination of Hermetic secrecy with several parallels. At Plutarch’s Isis and Osiris, his remarks regarding the renowned Isis statue at Sais appear particularly noteworthy, as he, akin to the Hermetic authors, links the imperative of secret with Egyptian tradition.22 A similar motif (and, in my opinion, one of the most important) is that the secret is paradoxical and dual in nature. On the one hand, the reader may expect to learn something about the secret, given Plutarch’s mysterious inscription on the statue claiming that Isis is all that has been, is, and will be, and no mortal has ever lifted her veil. This statement partly suggests a profound cosmological mystery concerning the nature of the universe and partly implies that this mystery is unknowable. At the same time, Plutarch, citing Egyptian Manetho, also explains that the inscription refers to the hidden nature of the deity and that the god is willing to reveal herself to the one who knows the ‘key word.’ This notion appears strikingly similar to the idea found in CH XIII, where the inner, previously hidden divine essence of the initiate can only be awakened through proper teaching or initiation. When this occurs, it becomes a truly cosmic event for the initiate, as their inner powers become identical to the cosmic creative forces; that is, they become deified. According to Plutarch, this knowledge, hidden in enigmas but transmissible to disciples, was later planted in Greece by Greek philosophers, most notably Pythagoras. The paradoxical nature of the secret lies in the fact that the authors cited, be they Hermetic authors or Plutarch, first arouse the reader’s interest by suggesting that something comprehensible and communicable can be learnt about the secret (something that could be interpreted within the categories of discursive knowledge) only to leave us empty-handed, implying that this knowledge is ultimately incommunicable. However, with the proper divine assistance, it can be experienced and understood. The secret is incommunicable, as it is internal and different to each individual, existing within the initiated one’s intimate connection with the divinity that fashioned the cosmos. Although we can say that Hermetic initiation is a secret, as it is an inner experience, its content can be defined. As CH XIII reveals, the end of initiation is marked by a spiritual rebirth, during which the initiate becomes one with the divine forces, already here, during his earthly life. This metamorphosis entails the conversion of astral influences and the physical reality dictated by the Zodiac into the divine. This shift results from the emergence of the ten divine powers (decad), which eradicate the influence exerted by the twelve Zodiac signs.23 So we can say that the end of initiation is marked by a cosmic transformation that already takes place in the material world: “My child, you have come to know the means of rebirth. The arrival of the decad sets in order a birth of mind that expels the twelve; we have been divinised by this birth. Therefore, whoever through mercy has attained this godly birth and has forsaken bodily sensation recognises himself as constituted of the intelligibles and rejoices” (CH XIII, 10. Copenhaver 1992, p. 51).

The notion of initiation as a cosmic rebirth is clarified when Hermes asserts that rebirth signifies the culmination of a process wherein the ten divine forces expel the twelve astral forces that shape man’s material and physical existence, whose primary aim is to confuse human beings:

“This tent24—from which we have also passed, my child—was made up of the zodiacal circle, which was, in turn, made up of [ ]25 entities that are twelve in number, one in nature, omniform in appearance.26 To mankind’s confusion, there are disjunctions among the twelve, my child, though they are unified when they act.27…28 Strictly speaking, then, it is likely that the twelve retreat when the ten powers29 (the decad, that is) drive them away. The decad engenders soul, my child. Life and light30 are unified when the number of the henad, of spirit, is begotten.”

(CH XIII, 12. Copenhaver 1992, p. 52)

The text elucidates the challenges of comprehending the truth, attributing it to the influence of astral forces that, according to their divisive nature, instigate a continual conflict inside human existence. This clearly suggests that an unprepared and impure individual may readily succumb to the delusion of possessing the truth. Nonetheless, the secret possesses cosmic and existential importance, rendering it perilous to engage with it unprepared and impure. This is not merely a literary invention. Hermes explicitly asserts that divine help is essential for perfect initiation, indicating that no individual can achieve supreme knowledge independently or through their own capabilities. Understanding this is a fundamental aspect of the Hermetic secret: while initiation eventually pertains to attaining divinity, there is no singular path to redemption within the Hermetic tradition, indicating that what is fundamental resides in the pupil’s frame of mind and spiritual purity. This is exactly why the text may be misappropriated. Despite its divine origins, the knowledge therein may be misused to propagate falsehoods or to deceive those who are ignorant by citing the book. This is the subject of our examination in the final section.

As mentioned previously, the fact that the secret holds such importance in Hermetic texts may be related to certain features of the treatises that evoke elements of late Egyptian tradition. As Jan Assmann has pointed out, secrecy always played a significant role in Egyptian religion, connected to the divine realm and possessing a sacred status. The depiction of initiation and concealment is not solely performative; rather, in Assmann’s terminology, it is a transforming act. The keeper of knowledge was first a scribe-priest possessing specialised expertise, the hierogrammateus. In Hermetism, this figure is represented by Hermes himself, who, as we have seen, writes down the teachings and magically protects the written text. Assmann’s account also supports the hypothesis that the secret has cosmic significance: hierogrammateus must protect the secret because if it falls into the hands of the uninitiated, it could have catastrophic consequences for the entire cosmos. Just as the Hermetic initiate is reborn through cosmic forces, so too does the performative recitation of the hierogrammateus possess cosmic power and significance (Assmann 2014).

The author of CH XVI draws attention to the same issue in a less dramatic manner when discussing the potential misuse of writing and the danger of false interpretation. Behind this text, one may discern the Egyptian conviction that the cosmic secret is sacred and must be protected from the profane. At the same time, in this treatise, the Hermetic text itself takes the place of the religious text recited by the hierogrammateus.

4. Misusing the Text—The Egyptian Language and the Challenges of Translation in Chapter XVI

Thus far, we have examined the role of writing, written doctrines and oral teachings in the hermetic literature. The Hermetic literature not only trains the pupil’s memory but also imparts divine teachings through Egyptian symbols. In this framework, writing has both a performative and defensive function. Nonetheless, as demonstrated, the issue of written texts, and their vulnerability to profanation, is explicitly discussed in one of the Hermetic treatises. The author of CH XVI openly asserts that the Hermetic text is susceptible to misuse. This can be done by interpreting the godly teachings in the Greek language rather than Egyptian. If this is true, we can infer that the written text can influence the soul of the listener or reader, unlike the Greek language, which is merely suitable for demonstration and does not exert influence, but only conveys; it is not acting itself, but merely its representation. Greek philosophy cannot fulfil the soul-transforming function of true knowledge described in CH XVI discourse; rather, it is merely appropriate for an eristic contest of words:

“Therefore, my king, in so far as you have the power (who are all powerful), keep the discourse uninterpreted, lest mysteries of such greatness come to the Greeks, lest the extravagant, flaccid and (as it were) dandified Greek idiom extinguish something stately and concise, the energetic idiom of (Egyptian) usage. For the Greeks have empty speeches, O king, that are energetic only in what they demonstrate, and this is the philosophy of the Greeks, an inane foolosophy of speeches. We, by contrast, use not speeches but sounds that are full of action.”

(CH XIII, 2, Copenhaver 1992, p. 58)

However, the author is pulling a trick on us: because nothing indicates that the passage in question is truly a translation, we must presume that it was originally written in Greek. Nevertheless, its author has joined the interpretive tradition that sees Hermetic books as divine revelations enshrined in Egyptian hieroglyphs. As previously stated, at the start of the treatise (which is a didactic letter) the author, identified as Hermes’ student Asclepius, draws the attention of King Ammon to the peculiar character of the writing in his hands. He asserts that this peculiarity occurs within the text itself, in its language and teachings, which may appear excessively simplistic, even banal, and in certain instances contradictory to ideas in other Hermetic tractates. He asks, what is the mechanism behind this phenomenon?

The answer comes from the accurate interpretation and acknowledgement of Asclepius’ foresight that the Greeks will ultimately endeavour to render the Hermetic doctrines into their own language. Greek is inadequate for conveying the profundity of the ancient Egyptian teachings, as it lacks the inherent potency of Egyptian vocabulary and syntax, permitting only logical deductions. This language hinders the pursuit of truth; instead, it encourages superficial reasoning. Of course, one may ask why Asclepius would warn Ammon about this in a kind of vaticinium ex eventu if he himself wrote the letter in the sacred Egyptian language, and it would only later be translated into Greek. This apology only makes sense if the text was originally written in Greek, since the introduction implicitly states that the original non-Greek letters preserve the depth of the teachings (Ebeling 2007, p. 29). As a result, the king who reads the document in its original language would have no reason to be concerned. Therefore, Asclepius would not have needed to apologise to Ammon for a future Greek translation if he had indeed written the teachings in Egyptian.

This suggests that the work was composed in Greek, and we are facing the process of sacralisation of teaching attributed to Hermes delineated above. These examples illustrate that the Hermetic literature often seeks to present itself as divinely inspired, as Egyptian wisdom derived from the gods that unveils the most primordial divine truths. However, the exact application of the Greek language in the treatise substantiates the assertion that the work was composed in Greek. The author frequently uses Hermetic Greek idioms and even technical terms such as apodeixis, which is employed in philosophical discourse to imply “demonstration” or “proof” (e.g., “For the Greeks have empty speeches, O king, that are energetic only in what they demonstrate”).31 He even embeds wordplay in the text, asking Ammon to leave the teaching as is, without adopting the Hermetic method of interpretation (hermēneia).32 There is another telling passage. In the introduction (CH XVI, 2), the author says the following: “For the Greeks have empty speeches, O king, that are energetic only in what they demonstrate, and this is the philosophy of the Greeks, an inane foolosophy of speeches” (Copenhaver 1992, p. 58). The phrase that Copenhaver translates as ‘foolosophy of speeches’ is ‘logōn psophos’ in Greek. The word psophos basically means ‘noise’, or ‘mere sound.’33 This is readily comprehensible in this context and indicates that the author made a deliberate choice, as the mere sound of the Greek language serves as a compelling antithesis to the real power of the Egyptian language, which distinctly manifests as a potent sound in contrast to the noise of Greek: “We, by contrast, use not speeches but sounds (phōnē) that are full of action.” Only an author with an exceptionally good command of the Greek language could have created such a subtle counterpoint between meaningless noise and meaningful sound.

Moreover, the text may allude to a theory that later gained considerable prominence: the idea that hieroglyphic writing is superior to alphabetic writing. According to this view, the pictorial nature of hieroglyphs allows for the transmission of higher knowledge, as they offer images that can be directly grasped by the intellect, knowledge that cannot be attained through discursive reasoning due to its nature. Discursive knowledge does not convey its subject in a single revelatory moment of illumination, but only through fragments and mediated conclusions. In this process, the immediacy of divine knowledge is lost, an immediacy that hieroglyphs preserve. This duality is what makes the Hermetic dialogue intelligible: Egyptian writing embodies this immediacy, in contrast to the empty chatter of the Greeks.

The author, adopting the character of Asclepius, seems to be striving to address the dilemma he has generated in the opening paragraphs. If the treatise had been written in Greek, he would have committed the same offence he warns the king against. He ensures the text’s sacred significance by situating it within a tradition and urging the reader to employ a specific hermeneutic method, while also commencing the letter with an appeal to the one and indivisible God. It is difficult to determine whether the author is playing with us or is entirely serious in his intent, though the truth may lie somewhere between the two possibilities. The author participates in a hermeneutic game that enables the astute reader to access the Hermetic heritage by comprehending the essence of the game itself. At the same time, this game may have a serious dimension. In the world in which Hermetic texts were composed, an Egyptian did not necessarily need to understand the true nature of hieroglyphs to proudly consider himself an heir to the Egyptian tradition (Cf. Sørensen 1987). That is, the Hermetic text in question could have been written by someone genuinely convinced of the truth of his claim, simply because he knew that hieroglyphic writing was a sacred or priestly script whose secrets were known only to the initiated. Jan Assmann demonstrates that the duality of exoteric and esoteric knowledge, presumed to be characteristic of Egyptian culture and reflected in the perceived duality of writing (sacred script versus popular, accessible, epistolary writing), was already observable among late Egyptians and was later fully developed by Greek authors (Assmann 2014). Thus, it seems plausible that the author of CH XVI was an Egyptian who had lost the ability to read hieroglyphs yet remained connected to a tradition that upheld their superiority. Consequently, he could assuredly engage the reader in the interpretative game, knowing that the reader would discern the paradox embedded in the Greek version; it had lost its power precisely by being rendered in Greek. In doing so, he simultaneously warns against the misuse of the text while absolving himself of the charge of committing that transgression. On the other hand, based on the observations of Jacco Dieleman, Bull points out that Egyptian priests very consciously used the Greek and Egyptian languages according to their specific purposes, which means that they themselves were aware of this duality (Bull 2018, pp. 428–30), which explains the situation in CH XVI.

This study demonstrates that the notion of Hermetic texts being initially inscribed by Hermes in hieroglyphics is crucial, as their true nature can solely be expressed in texts composed in the Egyptian language. Chapter XVI indicates that the teachings inside the written Hermetic text may be compromised if translated into a language (Greek) that fails to retain the magical potency of the original divine word. This dialogue presents a paradox wherein its author demonstrates proficient command of the Greek language, employing wordplay and linguistic intertexts with deliberate intent, indicating that it lacks an Egyptian source and was originally composed in Greek. Furthermore, we observed the relationship between oral instruction and written texts, as well as how the analysed questions can lead to a deeper comprehension of the core principles of hermetic initiation.