It’s impossible for most modern, scientifically minded people to imagine the religious devotion of the ancient Roman. The beauty of Warrior’s book is that she does not force her modern readers to try.
Instead of deploying theoretical models to explain Roman society’s belief to post-enlightenment skeptics, she simply lets the ancients speak for themselves. Here you will find no Jungian excavation of archetypal themes, or sociological musings on class cohesion. She does not refer to any over-used metaphors concerning opium and "the people". Although Warrior seems situated within the “functionalist” camp, she refrains from making those views explicit.
Warrior lets Romans communicate to us across the millennia. She refers to a wide range of ancient media so that most social layers can join the conversation. Of course, she quotes traditional elites; Tacitus, Cicero, and Ovid. Yet interestingly, the book is full of text taken from less standard material; funerary relief, graffiti, household shrines, sacrificial objects such as votive statues, and even coins. They all have stories to tell.
Warrior's source material allows the reader to get an overview of ancient Rome’s religious topography, as experienced by common people and oligarchs alike. Going farther afield, she quotes foreigners such as Polybius (c. 200 BCE).
Warrior tells us what the Romans said about their gods, how they behaved in relation to them, and where they did so. She also shines a light on the places religious stories were told and reenacted. The book contains numerous illustrations and photographs of built and natural sites where religion happened.
Texts produced by elites reveal that they understood religion as a tool to enforce social order and military/political success. All layers of society felt that the gods intervened in individual and state affairs. Everyone wanted to stay on the gods' good side.
It was a matter of public concern to appease and bribe the gods. However, there was simply “no guarantee of divine goodwill” (Warrior, 6). This goodwill or "pax deorum", was the central factor in determining public and private fortune.
Affluent priestly colleges called collegium were kept at public expense. Priests were specialists in ritual performance. It was critical state rituals be enacted correctly. Any mistake could anger the gods and cause more harm than good. The smallest misstep could mean starting the entire ritual again, often at public expense.
Most positions within the standard political "career-path" that Roman elites hoped to follow, the "cursus honorum" were connected to public ritual and held deep religious significance. No state business was conducted without some public religious performance beforehand, overseen and directed by the pontiffs.
The ancient Romans did not imagine any division between "religio" (religion) and the wider economic, political, and family domains that characterize daily life. “Religion” and social living were nearly identical. Cicero boasts that no place in Rome was not “filled with a sense of religio and the gods” (Warrior, 6)
Ornate public religious festivals, parades, feasts, rituals, and so forth formed the “topmost” expression of a universal orientation toward religious life. Below this layer was countless clan, group, family, and individual layers of divine power. Separation of temple and state was unthinkable.
The individual, state, and family entered multiple, sometimes overlapping contractual relationships with the gods. Piety was the proper execution of one’s duty within all these relationships, on all levels. Humans offered sacrifices, said prayers, observed taboos, etc., to receive (from the gods) favorable outcomes in life.
Since the gods were often fickle and had divergent needs, one could not please all the gods all the time however hard she tried. One fulfilled her side of the bargain, hoped for the best, and prepared for the worst. The general religious formula that governed Roman ritual was expressed in the proverb "do ut res" (I give so that you give).
The gods were not subjects of ethical or moral speculation. No moral conundrums or deep lessons informed Roman myth. Romans treated religion like another “fact of life” that required work and attention to achieve concrete goals.
Cicero put it particularly bluntly, asking;
“Did ever anyone give thanks to the gods because he was a good man? No. He did so because he is rich, honored, lucky, and secure. Jupiter is called Best and Greatest not because he makes men just, moderate, or wise, but because he makes them powerful, healthy, prosperous, and secure. When the Romans want to know what is wrong or right, they turned to philosophers, not to priests.” (Warrior, 10).
As the state had its patron deities (Jupiter, Mars, Minerva) so too the family. A family’s "Lares" were protective spirits that could help them grow and prosper. Penates protected foodstuffs by guarding storehouse and pantry. Every home contained a household shrine where the father acted as the chief priest or "paterfamilias". Additionally, Roman households “worshiped” ancestor spirits and local vegetation-agricultural deities. A neighborhood’s guardian spirits were called "Lares Compitales". When a family moved into a new home, the matriarch would offer a coin at their site of worship.
Vesta (goddess of the hearth) was devoutly worshiped by nation and family. Her abode was sacrosanct, and any failure to offer her honor would cause catastrophe for state and family. Tradition held that a fugitive or outlaw could not be harmed while touching her symbol, the hearth.
Her cult was “of great antiquity” (Warrior, 45). In the home, the matriarch was her chief priestess. At the national level, the Vestal Virgins were devoted to her worship and played a vital role in most public rituals. They were charged with keeping the sacred flame (the nation’s hearth) alive. Extinction of the flame would bring Rome to ruin. If any Vestal had sexual intercourse, she would be buried alive.
State religion grew out of early village and clan ritual. Households followed a calendar of religious responsibility that originated among the earliest tribes in Latium. Through the dutiful observance of ritual, all members of the household helped to appease the cosmic powers.
Aristocratic Roman families had temples, ornate shrines, and statues erected to ancient, often semi-mythical progenitors or particularly important male patriarchs. Offerings of fruit, alcohol, salt, or livestock were made to the image. Particularly powerful families often claimed descent from national gods. Aristocrats sponsored feasts in their patron deity's honor. Caesar’s family claimed Apollo as an ancestor. An aristocratic clan's good fortune in war or politics would often mean they financed enormous temples be built and donated to the state.
Ancient Romans believed the cosmos was inhabited by countless powers and spirits that could be petitioned or manipulated. People sought to control nature and her powers through the use of spells, charms, incantations, and prayers. Exotic practices like astrology and numerology filtered in from Babylonia, Persia, and Egypt after the Empire was founded. Traveling specialists in occult arts offered their services to paying clientele. Warrior quotes spells and charms that people hoped would bring them fortune, revenge, or love.
Official attitudes toward "magi" (magicians or sorcerers) were mixed. At first, the Senate often outlawed Eastern cults and practices they felt detrimental to “traditional” Roman values. However, as the Empire spread the prevalent approach was to incorporate foreign cults into the official pantheon.
Overall, Willow presents a very human picture of the Ancient Roman religion. She does not say, but shows, that at the bottom of it was the struggle to protect and strengthen individual and group life. It was a chance to gain a little certainty in an uncertain world. The individual was a part of the family and families made up the state, and all were situated in a great hierarchy with duties and responsibilities at every level. The hope was that by acting dutifully towards unseen powers a little security might be gained. Life was hard and anything that added in the struggle for survival was welcomed.
Although Romans enjoyed the vitality and pleasure of life, they saw hardship and death as humanity’s common fate.
Willow quotes a tomb;
“Tiber was my home, Flavius Agricola my name. I am the one you see reclining here, as I used to do among the living at dinner, carefully tending to myself [and kin] for the few years Fortuna granted me. I was never sparing with wine. My beloved wife, Flavia Primitiva died before me a devoted follower of Isis. With her, I spent 30 happy years. For consolation, she left me offspring…who will tend to our graves with piety and preserve our resting place. You who read this pay attention! Mix the wine, wrap the festive garland around your brow and enjoy. Do not refrain from loving beautiful women when you can because when death comes, everything will be consumed by earth and fire” (Willow, 40).
Whatever they lacked in philosophy the Romans certainly made up for in “horse sense”. Seems to me Flavius left solid advice for any age.