With new riddles the Derveni author then tries to tease out deeper meaning: the authoritative meaning of αἶνος is hidden and has to be made manifest. However, the author does not convey this meaning in an evident sense, but adds a second enigmatic layer. The reason Orpheus riddles, according to the Derveni author, is to comply with the taste of the recipients, ordinary men who like to give names. Compare the following expressions: Ὀρφεὺς γὰ`ρ´ / τὴν φρόνησ[ι]ν Μοῖραν ἐκάλ̣εσεν· ἐφαίνετο γὰρ αὐτῶι / τοῦτο προσφερέστατον ε[ἶ]ν̣αι ἐ̣ξ̣ ὧν ἅπαντες ἄνθρωποι / ὠνόμασαν· (“For Orpheus called thought Moira. This seemed to him to be the most suitable of the names that all people had given,” 18.6–9); πάν̣[τ’ οὖ]ν ὁμοίω[ς ὠ]νόμασεν ὡς κ̣άλλιστα ἠ[δύ]ν̣ατο / γινώσκ̣ων τῶν ἀνθρώπων τὴν φύσιν (“So he named all things in the same way as finely as he could, knowing the nature of men …,” 22.1–2); and ὁ δὲ σημαίνει τὴν αὑτοῦ γνώμην / ἐν τοῖς λεγομέν[ο]ις καὶ νομιζομένοις ῥήμασι (“But he indicates his own opinion in current and customary expressions,” 23.7–8). Even an initiated audience, according to Orpheus, thinks in customary ways. People are used to mythical figures in theogonic poems. Thus, the Derveni author argues, Orpheus clothes his ideas in such traditional figures with a putatively different intention.

If, as Parmenides and Empedocles say, naming is the great problem of mankind—with ὀνόματα people might reach false conclusions—a poet needs poetic metaphors to meet the taste of his audience. In Rhetoric 1407a32–1407b6 Aristotle criticizes Empedocles (Emp. test. 31 A 25) for his ambiguities—ἀμφίβολα is a feature of oracular language—and in Meteorologica 357a24–28 he assails him for his metaphorical style, which is apt for poets, but not suitable πρὸς δὲ τὸ γνῶναι τὴν φύσιν. Therefore, according to Aristotle, Empedocles lacks the principle of clarity that should accompany a philosopher, something which might also be said of Orpheus. But a goetic and mystical wonder-worker and μάντις-poet resorts to metaphors in order to provoke thinking. Intentional ambiguity is used to reach intuitive insights. The Derveni author is part of the Orphic system, too—he wants to radicalize and enforce such riddling strategies. {193|194}

The use of cryptic and enigmatic language in the way of an exegesis of dreams and oracles is precisely the strategy adopted by our anonymous “extra-ordinary” practitioner to produce deeper insight. But our author is aware of the fact that, because of “fault” (ἁμαρτίη) or “pleasure” (ἡδονή) (5.8–10), some do not apprehend dreams or care about latent signs. These undesirable behaviors result in “disbelief” (ἀπιστίη) and “lack of understanding” (ἀμαθίη) (5.10). Moreover, moral aberration is analogous to the deviation from initiatory wisdom. Ritual acts and enchanting songs allow μάγοι like him to remove the impeding δαίμονες: “As if they pay a penalty” (ὡ̣σ̣περεὶ ποινὴν̣ ἀποδιδόντες, 6.5), they offer a sacrifice (see column 6). Μάγοι, in the same way as μύσται, communicate with the Erinyes through fluids and knobbed cakes. The performance of ritual and speech acts can accomplish diametrical change: in such a way, Erinyes, who harm, become Eumenides, who are emblematically benevolent (see col. 6), and disbelievers can be turned into believers. Analogy and symbolic similarity are the principal ideas behind such thinking and doing, and they are the features of exegetical speech as well.

The Derveni author clarifies his standpoint in a sort of parenthesis in column 20: for him the performance of rites is important, but it has to be complemented by knowledge. People performing the mystery rites in the cities have only seen the holy things. But he wonders whether they have knowledge (γινώσκειν): “For it is not possible to hear and at the same time to understand what is being said” (οὐ γὰρ οἷόν τε / ἀκοῦσαι ὁμοῦ καὶ μαθεῖν τὰ λ̣εγόμενα·, 20.2–3). Mere listening does not automatically lead to understanding, which is why he tries to deepen the discourse with new riddling that leads to learning and sudden insight. Seeing the holy things is one thing, and true knowledge of such signs another. Therefore, the Derveni author is against other rival priests and ritual wonder-workers as well, and he pities those who follow them. Only he has access to the necessary wisdom, and only he can teach it. {195|196}

On the level of textual montage, as we have seen, the Derveni author acts on separation and reassembly, fragmenting and connecting as well. Column 10, where the author assimilates saying, uttering, and teaching, is important for {197|198} assembly in a didactic context. In the same way that Orpheus’ Night utters, says, and teaches her understanding of the world, so too does our anonymous Orphic. By disjoining the sense and defamiliarizing the syntax and context, the Derveni author provides συνθήματα as sayings; in uttering them with his voice (φωνή) he produces poetic enchantment. The dual-natured Orphic system, the paradoxical harmony of binary opposites, is reinforced by teaching through fragmented citations. The symbolic catchwords then trigger the desired sudden, enlightening insight.

The Orphic exegete does not want to draw on variants of the saga in which Zeus listens to his father. For him the fact that Zeus took the strength is decisive. He understands “strength” in the sense of “a natural force”: strength automatically joins with the strongest, as in the phrase “equal with equal” (ὅμοιον ὁμοίῳ). The author tries to play down the revolutionary, violent act of succession as much as possible; in his own reading he leaves out ἀρχὴν in its sense of “reign, regime.” Those who do not understand the meaning of the word associate it with a real deposition of sovereigns. In reality it means removing the fire, the partitioning of the sun at a safe distance so that it does not hinder things from coagulating and coming together (see col. 9). Zeus is installed “so that he may rule on the lovely abode of snow-capped Olympus” (ὡς ἂν̣ ἔ̣[χοι κά]τα καλὸν ἕδ̣ος νιφόεντος Ὀλύμπου, 12.2). Surprisingly, he associates Olympus with time, not with heaven, because time is long. Zeus rules for eternity, over the long span of temporal extension. Time is snow-capped because it has the quality of Night, who is white, cool, gray, and bright (12.11–13).

The sentence “[He made] to leap, the brightest and hottest having been separated from himself” ([ἐ]κθό̣ρηι τὸν λαμ̣πρότατόν τε [καὶ θε]ρ̣μ̣ό[τ]ατον / χωρισθὲν ἀφ’ ἑωυτοῦ, 14.1–2) might again depict the mythical ejaculation, focusing on the energy of semen. Moreover, the dissociation of the hottest, i.e. phallos/sun, from himself is an allusion to the famous castration in prospect, since Ouranos is deprived of his phallos: “So he says that this Kronos was born from the sun to the earth because he became the cause through the sun that they were struck against each other” (τοῦτον οὖν τὸν Κρόνον / γενέσθαι φησὶν ἐκ τ̣οῦ ἡλίου τῆι Γ̣ῆι, ὅτι αἰτίαν ἔσχε / διὰ τὸν ἥλιον κρούεσθαι πρὸς ἄλλ̣ηλα, 14.2–4). “The great deed” (ὃς μ̣έγ’ ἔρεξεν, 14.5) is the castration. Kronos is born from the union of Sun/Ouranos’ phallos with Ge—through the sun he becomes the cause (αἰτίαν ἔσχε, 14.3) setting all things in motion. Kronos is etymologized to κρούειν/κρούεσθαι {202|203} ‘strike’. After Ouranos is dethroned by castration, Kronos is established as the natural force, albeit retrospectively, by his great deed. He is the “Striker,” but the energy stems from the cutting off of his father’s phallos—the removal, as a means of distancing, is the act of concentrating fire’s loose energy in the ball of Helios: this is how the sun comes to give the energy that all things draw from in order to grow and move. Encircling the striking energy allows things to condense and prevents them from standing apart from one another (cf. κρο̣ύε<i>ν αὐτὰ πρὸ̣[ς ἄλ]λ̣ηλα κα̣[ὶ] ποήσηι τὸ [πρῶτ]ον / χωρ̣ισθέντα διασ̣τῆναι δίχ’ ἀλλήλων τὰ ἐ̣ό̣ντα·, 15.1–2). “For when the sun is separated and encircled/distanced, he coagulated in the middle and held fast both the things that are above and those which are below the sun” (χωρ̣[ι]ζομένου γὰρ τοῦ ἡλίου καὶ ἀπολαμβανομένου / ἐν μ̣έσωι πήξας ἴσχει καὶ τἄνωθε τοῦ ἡλίου / καὶ τὰ κάτωθεν, 15.3–5). Nous—that is, Zeus, the highest principle—fixed the sun in the middle, removing its dangerous potential to a safe distance so that fire would not prevent things from joining (cf. col. 9).

By “mating” Orpheus putatively means the congress of the particles of being: similar goes to similar—ὅμοιον ὁμοίῳ. Aphrodite, Peitho, and Harmonia are the κατὰ φάτιν (21.8–9) designations of mixing, gathering, and joining (col. 21). The many names for Ge are names of convention as well, which make sense etymologically (col. 22). Through greed, moral deviations, and lack of understanding (22.6), people use this plethora of different names—but in reality they all mean the same thing. {204|205}

Then the author speaks about the moon (cols. 24–25). It is circular, equally measured, and of equal limbs. Orpheus calls the moon the one “who shines for many articulate-speaking humans on the boundless earth” (ἣ πολλοῖς φαίνει μερόπεσσι ἐπ’ ἀπείρονα γαῖαν, 24.3). One could disagree with this, since the moon might shine more at her zenith (ὑπερβάλλειν, 24.4–6). However, this is not Orpheus’ meaning. According to the author, the phrase alludes to the moon’s role in time-keeping. He comes back to the two important principles of the sun and night (col. 25): the moon is bright, but cold; the stars are invisible and latent, but during the night they are visible and manifest themselves. They float at a certain distance, but this is out of a cosmic necessity, i.e. Nous or Zeus. Without the distance, another sun would coagulate. But there is only one sun.

At this point the author inserts an additional methodological statement: “And the words that follow he puts before [as a screen], not wishing all men to understand” (τὰ δ̣’ ἐ̣πὶ τούτοις ἐπίπροσθε π[ο]ιεῖται / [οὐ β]ου[λό]μενο̣[ς] πάντας γιν[ώ]σκε̣[ι]ν̣, 25.12–13). Orpheus uses poetic expressions to conceal the meaning, and the author tries to reveal it. At the same time, by using new terms, he covers the truth with new screens.

By bizarrely riddling over an Orphic text, which is itself putatively riddling but quite traditional, the Derveni author introduces a radical Umwertung of values and meanings. The μεθιστάναι (6.3) happens both through ritual and through speech-acts; that which is latent is highlighted by obscurely spoken words. Through both fragmented and decontextualized sentences the sense is distorted, twisted, and changed.

What our author intends to convey with such enigmatic utterances often remains uncertain: it is not a clear-cut and lucid commentary in terms of {206|207} Presocratic natural science. But by means of abstruse remarks, some light can be shed on the basic mechanisms of φύσις ‘nature’. Physis as eternal cosmic being is a miracle. People tend to err because of incorrect names (ὀνόματα), since the language of φύσις or the gods is basically lost. However, φύσις and κόσμος speak for themselves. Human language, on the contrary, is not φύσει, but νόμῳ, by convention, or θέσει. Yet some great poets and guru-prophets might still have access to pure φύσις and physical language, though they may make concessions to the audience and their tastes. Furthermore, the cosmos, sun, moon, and stars are also part of the soteriological reflections. By understanding φύσις people can reach deep insights about life, including its basis in night and death.

Our Derveni author seems to be an Orphic with philosophical knowledge. He is neither inept and clumsy nor unintelligent. He is certainly not a modern scientist, but he wants to trigger reflection and deep thoughts on the paradoxical workings of nature. Insight is activated by short and bizarre distortions of sense. Therefore, the Orphic poem is treated as an oracular message from the dark. Deeper meaning is teased out by further riddling, by fragmentation, by a loosening of syntactic and semantic order, by highlighting poetic ambiguity, by opening up the nuances. The canonical text is decontextualized, cut to pieces, and fragmented into defamiliarized morsels of words. Just as συνθήματα unite opposites to a paradoxical utterance, nature encompasses two principles: separation and reassembly. The aphoristic, obscure oracular mode à la Heraclitus paves the path to sudden insight. The συμβάλλειν of fragmented words, the dark re-transpositions of παραγωγά, ὑπερβατά, the distortions of sense and structure, and the poetic and magic logic of analogy initiate understanding. Through these games of language the mystic sense of φύσις can flare up like a sudden bolt.

All in all, the context of the Derveni papyrus is clearly didactic, and the text does seem to be situated in Orphic circles and its teachings. However, according to the enlightening ideas of its author, it is not enough to perform Orphic rites, to listen to ἱεροὶ λόγοι, or to see σύμβολα ‘sacred things’. While the λεγόμενα and ὁρώμενα should provoke thought, insight, and understanding, the message that the text offers to μύσται can be grasped not by means of logocentric discourse, but only through its hints at the mysteries of φύσις. These are the mysteries I refer to as “riddles over riddles.” {207|}