Sacrifice or Silence

In his treatise On Abstinence from Killing Animals, Porphyry states a principle of philosophical sacrifice: Different strokes for different deities.

For “intelligible gods,” the best worship is “hymn-singing in words,” since “sacrifice is an offering to each god from what he has given, with which he sustains us and maintains our essence in being” (2.34.4).

Gods in heaven, whether wandering or fixed, are rightly offered grain and vegetable offerings: “we should kindle fire which is already kin to them, and we shall do what the theologian says. He says that not a single animate creature should be sacrificed, but offerings should not go beyond barley-grains and honey and the fruits of the earth” (2.36.3-4).

Beneath these are the daimones, who delight in “drink offerings and smokking meat” and grow fat on “vapors and exhalations,” drawing their power “from the smoke that rises from blood and flesh” (2.42.3). The best men will avoid contact with such beings.

But the high god is beyond all sacrifice: “To the god who rules over all, as a wise man said, we should offer nothing perceived by the senses, either by burning or in words. For there is nothing material which is not at once impure to the immaterial. So not even logos expressed in speech is appropriate for him, not yet internal logos when it has been contaminated by the passion of the soul. But we shall worship him in pure silence and with pure thoughts about him” (2.34.1-2).

We can get a sense of the complexity of the early Christians response to sacrifice: They had to affirm that the God of Israel who delighted the aroma of sacrifice  was the Father of Jesus, and not a bloodthirsty chthonic being. Ultimately they rejected animal offerings, but valorized sacrificial language, transmuting it into praise, prayer, and obedience. They had to give up sacrifice without simultaneously giving up prayer.