Aeschylus, Haggai and Zechariah
It sounds like the beginning of a joke, but I'm interested in their view of "the divine" from their writings.
Aeschylus, one of the great tragedians of ancient Greece, lived during the 5th century BCE, a transformative period in Greek history. Born in the town of Eleusis around 525, he grew up in a place renowned for its sacred mysteries dedicated to Demeter and Persephone. His life came to an end in Gela, Sicily, around 456 or 455 BCE. So the prophecies of Haggai and Zechariah would have been written during his lifetime if you take the traditional view of the date of their composition (520ish).
Beyond his literary contributions, Aeschylus was a soldier who participated in some of Athens’ most significant battles. He fought at Marathon in 490 BCE and, possibly, at Salamis in 480 BCE. As a playwright, Aeschylus was a pioneer in elevating the art of Greek drama. He introduced groundbreaking innovations, including the use of a second actor, which allowed for more complex dialogue and conflict, as well as elaborate costumes and scenic design.
In some of the writings of Aeschylus, a very distinct view of “the divine” is developed which contrasts with that of the God of Israel as seen in Haggai and Zechariah.
In Prometheus Bound, Aeschylus presents Prometheus as a figure of defiance against Zeus, the supreme ruler of the gods. By gifting fire to humanity, Prometheus offers not just a physical flame but a symbol of knowledge and progress. His actions are driven by compassion and a vision of a better future for mortals. Yet, his defiance does not overthrow Zeus’s rule; it leads only to severe punishment. Chained to a rock, Prometheus endures endless torment, embodying both noble resistance and the inescapable consequences of challenging the divine order. His suffering serves as a powerful illustration of the interplay between human agency and the immutability of divine law.
In The Persians, King Xerxes defies the natural and divine boundaries of human ambition by attempting to bridge the Hellespont and tame the sea itself in his quest to conquer Greece. This bold act of hubris—overreaching pride that challenges the gods’ established order—feels like a mortal trying to rewrite the laws of heaven.
But the divine order cannot be defied without consequences. The Persian defeat at Salamis is more than just a military disaster; it is framed as a cosmic reckoning. Xerxes’ refusal to accept the limits imposed by the gods leads directly to ruin. The chorus mourns Persia’s fall, linking it to Xerxes’ hubris, his attempt to overstep his place in the divine scheme. This theme resonates with the unyielding nature of fate, which runs through many of my works.
Yet, the play does not simply condemn Xerxes. His suffering and the grief of the Persian court evoke pity and reflection. While defying the divine order brings consequences, it also holds up a mirror for mortals to learn humility. The Greeks—and we, as the audience—are reminded that acknowledging the divine order is not merely an act of obedience but a path to wisdom and harmony.
On the other hand read Zechariah 2:10-11, where God promises to return to Jerusalem with mercy, or Haggai 2:4-5, where God encourages His people to be strong and rebuild the Temple, assuring them of His presence. The Hebrew God promises restoration and a path to redemption through obedience, while in Aeschylus’s tragedies, the gods enforce a fate that is often indifferent to human pleas, with justice sometimes arrived at through suffering or transformation.
The Greek conception of divine law—where gods may be distant, and fate immutable—creates a different kind of moral responsibility than the Hebrew vision, where the divine interacts with the people and offers them a chance for redemption.