Why Polytheism?
A short reflection on why I think polytheism is a sensible path when grounded in a robust philosophical system.
Greetings, reader. In today’s post, I want to reflect on something I touched on in my recent interview on the Diogenes’ Lamp Podcast. During the interview, I explained why I am a Greek polytheist – especially why I think it makes sense to be a polytheist with a strong grounding in the Hellenic philosophical tradition – because, in short, it seems sensible.
Often, people think religion is all about blind faith – that it is without reason by nature. While some resort to blind faith to justify their beliefs (this book says XYZ, so I follow it because it says so), religion, to me, is a means for making sense of life and for engaging with divinity. In the interview, I explained that I could easily live a life without divinity, but I think it is better for me to live a life where divinity is part of it. Because I think it is best to have it in my life, I need to engage with the divine in a manner fit for humans, as the first Delphic maxim advises us to know thyself (Γνῶθι σεαυτόν) – which instructs us to know that I am human, a mortal. From there, I proceed forward in life, taking care to know my limits as a mortal. I am a human and capable of reason. I must therefore use my reason as much as possible to live life in a reasonable way, as best as possible within my capabilities.
This is the beauty of Greek philosophy: it provides reasonable paths to living a life that includes Gods deemed appropriate for humans within the frameworks of each philosophical school. While there were different schools, such as Pythagoreanism, Stoicism, and Platonism, they all shared some common concerns and sought to answer common questions – namely, how should human beings live, given the structure, limits, and meaning of the cosmos they inhabit?
While I cannot justify my religion in a way that would satisfy a scientist looking for empirical evidence, I can justify it philosophically. I cannot say with absolute certainty that the Gods are real, but that is not the point; I have already decided that I want to live a life with Gods, and I must accept them because I think this philosophy is true. The question(s) that must be put forward are, if there are Gods, what can be said logically about them (e.g., what is a God?), and how do I conduct myself in relation to them?
This is where philosophy comes in, and for the purposes of this conversation, I will stick with Proclus, as he is extremely handy for demonstrating what I am getting at here. In his Elements of Theology, Proclus adopts the Euclidean deductive style: definitions, propositions, and demonstrations to make explicit the logical presuppositions that already govern metaphysical thought. In other words, Proclus uses a mathematical style of reasoning to reveal, step by step, the underlying logical framework on which metaphysical ideas already depend, rather than introducing new doctrines by appeal to authority.
In Proclus’ Elements, we find a model of theology that neither commands belief nor abandons thought. It does not claim to prove the Gods, nor does it appeal to fear, authority, or emotional coercion. Instead, it asks what must be the case if reality is intelligible at all. From that starting point, it unfolds a vision of the cosmos in which unity, multiplicity, causation, and participation are ordered rather than opposed. In this, Proclus provides me with a means to avoid the harmful excesses that can arise from irrational religiosity rooted in fear and superstition. Religion is often blamed for many problems, and yes, people do bad things in the name of religion, but that proves my point that religion ought to be grounded in a robust philosophical system so as to limit bad actions committed in the name of religion through fear, hate, superstition, and so on.
Proclus understands that the divine reality exceeds human comprehension but refuses to conclude that reason must therefore be removed. On the contrary, it is insisted that rational inquiry—disciplined, humble, and aware of its limits—is the highest mode by which a human being can approach the divine. Polytheism follows naturally from this approach. If reality is structured, differentiated, and relational, then divinity itself cannot be collapsed into a single undifferentiated agent without distortion. Multiple Gods acknowledge that the sources of order in the world are plural and irreducible.
The Gods do not appear right away in his Elements; Proclus lays some foundational groundwork first. He begins with what must be true if reality is intelligible. The first five propositions deal with The One for example:
“Every multitude partakes in some respect of The One.” (Prop. I)
“Every thing which partakes of The One is alike one and not one.” (Prop. II)
“Every thing which becomes one, becomes so by the participation of The One, and is one so far as it experiences the participation of The One.” (Prop. III)
“Every thing which is united is different from The One itself.” (Prop. IV)
“All multitude is posterior to The One. “ (Prop. V)
Proclus lays the foundations by establishing The One as the condition for anything to exist or be intelligible. This must be done first before we speak about Gods. I do not intend this to be a full investigation or exegesis of Proclus’ Elements – simply, I want to explain the basic grounding for my polytheist reasoning and how I like to approach religion. If someone were to ask me, “What are the Gods?” I could ground my answers using Proclus. The Gods are principles of unity. The Gods are not their myths. I do not think the Gods are capricious personalities who randomly help or harm people, as they sometimes appear in myth. For Proclus, a God is defined as a self-perfect unity, not as a psychological agent.
“Every God is a self-perfect unity, and every self-perfect unity is a God” (Prop. CXIV).
“Every God is superessential, supervital, and superintellectual” (Prop. CXV).
This means the Gods are prior to emotion, impulse, and personal psychology. They are not beings inside the world reacting to events — they are principles that give order to reality itself. So when myths describe Gods as angry, jealous, or vengeful, Proclus would say those stories are symbolic ways of talking about how divine order appears to human life, not literal descriptions of divine behavior.
I don’t believe the Gods arbitrarily harm people, because Proclus says the very nature of a God is goodness and unification.
“Every God subsists through its own superessential goodness” (Prop. CXIX).
“Every God is a beneficent unity” (Prop. CXXXIII).
“Providence exists primarily in the Gods” (Prop. CXX).
For Proclus, to be a God is to be a cause of order, not disorder. Anything that looks like harm comes from how limited beings receive divine influence, not from divine intent. I highly recommend Leonidas's series of articles on Proclus on his Substack, where he breaks down Proclus and Platonism in easy-to-understand terms. Few people have the skills to explain difficult concepts in easy language – Leo is one of them.
This small sample of Proclus’ work shows me that living a life with the Gods and rooting myself in a strong philosophical tradition is highly reasonable and a valid religious path. I stress this point because many new polytheists may feel insecure in their polytheism – it is not a popular path and is largely misunderstood by society.
You need not fear these obstacles, because the philosophical tradition(s) provide fortifications against them if you choose to adopt them into your polytheism. As for polytheism, which engages with the Gods through mythic literalism, I have little advice on that – I strongly encourage a philosophical integration with polytheism.