When people think of Peru’s Sacred Valley, they picture Inca ruins, royal estates, and sun temples carved high into the impossibly beautiful Andes. But this fertile corridor has a much older story. Before Cusco became a capital, other civilizations were building, farming, worshipping, and laying the groundwork for Andean life. From the early settlers of Marcavalle to the empire-building Wari, the Sacred Valley was already sacred in ways most travelers don’t expect. This is a journey into what came before.   Why the Sacred Valley Drew People for Thousands of Years   The Sacred Valley stretches about 37 miles (60 kilometers) from Pisac to Ollantaytambo, tracing the Urubamba River between 9,186 and 11,483 feet (2,800 to 3,500 meters). Thanks to its altitude and layout, the valley has a mix of natural microclimates that made it ideal for farming. While much of the Andes is rugged and demanding (just try hiking them), the Sacred Valley was unusually fertile and mild. Corn grew especially well here, and early cultures were already harvesting it before the Inca made it a staple.   These early ingenious communities practiced something now known as the vertical archipelago system. This meant growing different crops at different altitudes. Say, potatoes and quinoa in the higher zones, with maize, and fruits further down. It was a smart way to make the most of the land and points to an early understanding of sustainable living in the challenging yet fertile highlands.   Some researchers also believe the landscape itself played a sacred role. Mountains, rivers, and rock formations may have once formed a kind of spiritual map. Even before the Inca organized Cusco’s famous ceque lines, the Sacred Valley might have already been laid out as a ceremonial landscape, with peaks like Pitusiray and Veronica considered living spirits. That bond between geography and sacred meaning is actually one of the oldest threads running through Andean culture.   The Inca may have perfected the art of terracing, but the idea of sculpting mountains into farmland was rooted in even older Sacred Valley traditions. Photo by Jason Hickey, CC BY-SA 4.0, via jasonhickey.org.   The First Settlements and the Reach of the Chavín   Marcavalle is one of the oldest known human settlements near Cusco, dating back nearly 3,000 years. Excavations have uncovered housing foundations, tools, and even signs of early religious activity like burials beneath homes. This suggests ancestor worship, a tradition that would echo throughout the Andes and later show up in Inca rituals with their mummified mallquis.   What’s especially interesting is that pottery from Marcavalle features patterns similar to those found in the Chavín heartland further north. That could point to trade, pilgrimage, or shared beliefs. Essentially, we might not know exactly how it happened, but we do know that ideas were traveling across regions much earlier than first thought.   Hundreds of miles from the Sacred Valley, Chavín de Huántar already influenced Andean religion and art nearly 2,000 years before the Inca shaped these highlands. Photo of Chavín de Huántar by Alison Ruth Hughes, CC BY 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons.   What Early Ritual Life Looked Like in the Sacred Valley   Before organized state religions took hold, ritual life in the Sacred Valley was deeply tied to nature. Springs and caves were sacred places where people left offerings like maize, textiles, or chicha, a traditional corn beer still brewed in the Andes today.   There’s also strong evidence that ancient structures were aligned with solar events, something we often associate with the Inca. But even long before their rise, early cultures were building temples and arranging stones to mark the solstices and equinoxes, carefully observing the cycles of the sun and moon. This deep connection to nature was not only practical but also spiritual. Life was guided by balance, and people practiced ayni, a system of mutual exchange between individuals, communities, and the land itself. Offerings to the earth were not grand gestures but part of everyday life, made in the hope of good harvests and harmony. Travel through the Andean highlands today, and you might see someone quietly dropping a few crumbs to the ground before lunch, a small yet meaningful way of honoring Pachamama, just as their ancestors did for generations.   *Caveat: While it has been widely documented that Andean cultures made offerings at springs and caves (e.g., with chicha and textiles), solid evidence of pre-Inca structures aligned with solstices is more inferred than explicitly proven. It’s certainly plausible, given from broader Andean contexts, but specific scholarly proof remains somewhat limited. You can read more about the fascinating subject right here.   Overlooking the Apurímac River outside the Sacred Valley, Maukallaqta was once a major ceremonial center long before the Inca made their mark on the broader region. Photo of Maukallaqta, Espinar by Ana G. Pumacayo, CC BY 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons.   Coastal Influences from Paracas and Nazca   Although the Paracas and Nazca cultures developed along Peru’s coast, their influence stretched far into the mountains. Textiles and ceramics from both groups have been found in highland tombs adjacent to the Sacred Valley. These weren’t casual trade items but highly valuable commodities that were often carried across difficult terrain by llama caravans. Their presence near the Sacred Valley hints at alliances, rituals, or high-level exchanges between lowland and highland elites.   One detail that really stands out is the use of natural dyes in Paracas textiles. Some of the reds came from cochineal insects, which only live in dry coastal areas. Yet those colors appear in finds deep in the mountains. That tells us not only about trade but about the symbolic power of certain materials.   Religious ideas may have traveled, too. Spiral motifs, bird figures, and other stylized imagery from coastal art appear in the Sacred Valley‘s rock carvings. The influence is clear whether they were copied, reimagined, or brought directly through contact.   Created over 1,500 years before the Inca, the Nazca Lines reveal just how far back Peru’s legacy of monumental design really goes. Photo of Nazca Lines by Diego Delso, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons.   The Wari and the First Andean Empire   The Wari were among the most important cultures to rise before the Inca. Around 600 CE, they built an administrative and religious empire that stretched across central and southern Peru. Their reach extended into the Sacred Valley, and one of their most impressive highland cities was Pikillacta.   Covering about 124 acres (50 hectares), Pikillacta stands out for its grid-like layout, straight walls, and uniform building style. Unlike the Inca, who often worked with organic lines and natural contours, the Wari preferred strict geometry. Many buildings show little evidence of daily life, leading some to think it was more of a seasonal gathering place or ritual center than a town.   There’s also some evidence that the Wari used hallucinogenic plants in religious ceremonies. Ceramic vessels from that time feature Anadenanthera seeds, which have powerful psychoactive properties. These weren’t just for casual use. They were likely part of elaborate rituals reinforcing social order and spiritual beliefs.   Pikillacta’s wide avenues and geometric walls tell the story of the Wari, a formidable empire-building culture that laid the groundwork for Inca rule centuries later. Photo of Pikillacta by Eduardo Ysla, CC BY 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons.   Ancient Remnants Hidden in the Valley Today   In the village of Calca, between Pisac and Ollantaytambo, lies a hillside ruin known as Huchuy Qosqo or “Little Cusco.” Most visitors focus on the Inca-era structures, but some of the stonework here doesn’t follow the typical Inca style. These older foundations might belong to the Wari or even earlier cultures.   It’s a fantastic reminder that colonizers weren’t the only ones who built new structures on older bones. The Inca did, too.   Even more mysterious are the petroglyphs (ancient rock carvings) at places like Chillihuani and the site of Tunsucancha, where spirals, birds, and humanoid shapes are carved into rock faces overlooking the valley. No one knows exactly what they mean. Some researchers think they mark astronomical events; others believe they were meant to connect with spirits in the landscape. Both theories are utterly plausible.   Perched high above the Sacred Valley, Huchuy Qosqo offers a spectacularly rare glimpse into pre-Inca life and the layers of history the Inca would eventually build upon. Photo of Huchuy Qosqo by Stevage, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons.   When the Inca Entered an Already Sacred Land   One thing the Inca did well was recognizing the power of existing sacred places. Instead of wiping the slate clean, they often built over earlier shrines and temples. In Ollantaytambo, archaeologists have found evidence of pre-Inca terraces and older foundations beneath the famous fortress. The same goes for Cusco’s Temple of the Sun, which may have been constructed on a former Wadi ceremonial site.   The Inca word “huaca” referred to anything considered sacred, be they objects, places, or beings. This inclusive way of thinking allowed them to absorb older beliefs rather than erase them. Building on top of older sites helped the Inca connect their power to the land’s deeper spiritual roots.   The practice of layering wasn’t just symbolic but a practical and rather cunning way to claim continuity, establish legitimacy, and root new rule in ancient soil. Photo of Coricancha, a Spanish convent built atop Inca foundations, by Diego Delso via Wikimedia.   How to Visit the Pre-Inca Sacred Valley Most visitors head straight for the Inca highlights, but if you’re curious about the valley’s older stories, here are a few places to dig a little deeper. Marcavalle Located in Cusco’s southern suburbs, Marcavalle isn’t open to the public, but the Museo de Sitio Qorikancha has artifacts from the site and shares insight into its 3,000-year-old past. Pikillacta About 19 miles (30 kilometers) southeast of Cusco, this vast Wari site is open to visitors (typically 7 am–4:30 pm) and usually quiet. Mornings are best for taking in the silence and wide views over the Lucre Basin. Huchuy Qosqo You can reach this site via a half-day hike from Lamay or a longer trek from Tambomachay near Cusco. The Inca ruins are impressive, but keep an eye out for the older foundations underneath. This is a shorter and easier alternative to the classic Inca Trail and lesser-known, which means it’s a quieter and more relaxing hike in high season. Highly recommended! Chullpas and Petroglyphs In Calca, Yucay, or Chillihuani, ask locals about nearby burial towers and rock carvings. Many of these sites are tucked into hillsides and still used in small rituals today. If you really want to connect with the past, take it slow. Talk to people, look for hidden walls and shrines, and keep an open mind. The Sacred Valley holds more stories than most guidebooks will ever tell.

  We know the ferocious and ruthless yet able Mongol Khan died in August 1227 aged 65. August 18 is often given as the date. However, the reasons for his death are still shrouded in mystery. His rise from Temujin to Genghis Khan just two decades prior marked an empire-building period like few others. At its height, the Mongol Empire would stretch from the Pacific’s edge to Europe’s borders. For decades, Khan’s mounted armies seemed unstoppable.    Where Khan Died Genghis Khan Equestrian Statue, Tsonjin Boldog, Mongolia. Source: Discover Mongolia   Genghis Khan died during the Mongol campaign against the Western Xia in northwestern China. His invasion, begun in 1225, came as revenge. The Xia refused troops or supplies for the Mongol’s eastern invasions. An irate Khan concluded those campaigns, returning west with a vengeance. Khan died mysteriously here, with his death being kept a secret. The Mongols won shortly after Khan’s death. In revenge, they massacred the Xia and razed the countryside, wiping out their civilization so only remnants remained.   The Known Facts of Khan’s Death Chinggis Khan advising his sons on his deathbed, 15th-century miniature from Marco Polo’s Livre des Merveilles, 1410-12. Source: BnF   The only two confirmed facts regarding Khan’s death are the date and place—those being 1227 in northwest China. Conflicting theories exist regarding the death of Genghis Khan. These are difficult to confirm due to the fragmentary or contradictory nature of historical records and oral histories. The Mongols https://cdn.thecollector.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/05/genghis-khan-deathbed.jpgkept Khan’s death a secret, likely to keep the Empire stable and prevent chaos and exploitation by their enemies. The Mongols remained silent about his fall until their victory against the Western Xia.    The Unproven Theories Genghis Khan, Yuan Dynasty Portrait, 14th century. Source: National Palace Museum, Taipei   The theories about Khan’s death remain just that. The most prevalent theory is that medical complications from a horse fall led to Khan’s death. Researchers believe the cause was injuries, internal damage, or infection.    The History of Yuan, or China’s Mongol dynasty (1271-1368), states that the Khan perished from illness. He lasted for eight days but never disclosed the name of the sickness. Speculation around this cause ranges from infectious diseases, such as typhoid or bubonic plague. Coincidentally, the Mongol troops suffered an outbreak of the Black Death during the Western Xia campaign.    A manuscript showing Genghis rewarding the Four Dogs and other followers at the Kurultai of 1206 CE. Source: BnF   Another myth also created long after his death to sully his image claimed a princess stabbed Genghis Khan. This Tangut princess, from the Western Xia kingdom, either stabbed or castrated the Mongol ruler. This tale is understood to be fiction, spread by rivals to humiliate Khan’s memory.   The last rumor to appear stated that Khan met his demise from battle wounds. Khan’s aggressive campaigns meant he led from the front, potentially putting him in harm’s way. An arrow struck Khan, injuring but killing him. According to secondary information, the wound became infected, turning fatal. Like the other rumors, this one also originated from secondary sources. Little concrete evidence exists for validation.   The Reason for the Theories and Myths Genghis Khan’s Heir Ögedei. Source: National Palace Museum, Taiwan   The reasons for the uncertainty about Khan’s death, like the myths, vary, unfortunately. Any news of Genghis Khan’s death would rock their empire. Remaining secretive meant keeping order and, in modern politics, “controlling the narrative.” The Mongols kept few written records, which further complicated the event for scholars centuries later.    Contrasting the manner of Khan’s death was how his enemies tweaked the story. Persian and Chinese stories and accounts exaggerated or discounted the event. For example, Khan’s castration by a princess or a divine retribution all to make him less invincible, tarnishing Khan’s legacy.    Some tales make for a sensational ending to Khan’s life. A death caused by battle wound infections or succumbing to horse fall-related injuries sounds better. The Mongols even spun a the tale of divine intervention.   Statue of Genghis Khan on the bank of the Tuul River in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. Source: Financial Times   Despite the rumors concerning how Genghis Khan died, the most widely accepted account is that he fell from his horse while hunting. Mongols lived a difficult life in a harsh environment, had bad diets, and were always on the move. So, the belief is the fall caused internal injuries. As a man in his 60s, Khan’s chances of recovery would be minimal. Unfortunately, all remains speculation with the lack of a body. Khan’s followers adhered to his wishes for a secret burial, thereby creating one of history’s enduring myths.   Genghis Khan’s Secret Burial Gate to the Genghis Khan Equestrian Statue, Tsonjin Boldog. Source: Wikimedia Commons   Khan’s body was returned to Mongolia, specifically the sacred mountain called Burkhan Khaldun. Slaves dug deep and entombed Khan. Next, Khan’s men executed the slaves and possibly the slaves’ guards, plus any bystanders. The site remained unmarked, with few knowing its exact location. With no known spot, Khan hoped to deter enemies and looters. Khan’s followed Mongol funeral practices of hidden burials. This frustrates historians wishing to know the end of Khan’s story. Despite many failed expeditions, the great Khan’s grave and ending remain a mystery.

  Love, jealousy, vengeance, and a multitude of other thrilling emotions give lasting intrigue to the tales of ancient Greek mythology. With such passionate feelings and magical allure, it is no wonder that many of these stories have become muses for some of the world’s most famous operas. The relatable themes, lessons, and emotions of these stories, though they have significant religious, cultural, and historical roots, make them timeless and malleable for artists across generations and across the world. Many productions of these operas feature contemporary costumes or settings that exist beyond a given place, adding to the mysteries and magic within their storytelling.   1. Ariadne auf Naxo, Richard Strauss Bacchus and Ariadne, by Giovanni Antonio Pellegrini, circa 1720s. Source: The Metropolitan Museum of Art   Ariadne was born a princess on the island of Crete, where she helped the hero Theseus defeat her monstrous sibling, the infamous Minotaur, before their escape together. There are a variety of endings that conclude Ariadne’s story, but all lead to the island of Naxos, a territory owned by the god of wine and festivity: Dionysus.   Richard Strauss’s opera, Ariadne auf Naxos, set to Hugo von Hofmannsthal’s libretto, plays a unique spin on the classical myth and picks up Ariadne’s story in the scenario wherein Theseus intentionally abandons her on the island of Naxos before traveling on to Athens. Though she is resolved to die, Ariadne finds new hope and new love when Bacchus (the Roman name for Dionysus) promises himself to her and they rise to the heavens together.   Strauss conceived the final version of his opera by listening to critiques and ideas about the original version. When his work first premiered, it was performed following a play which he had composed music for in 1912, but this frustrated audiences who did not enjoy waiting for the opera to begin. A few years later, Strauss replaced the play with a prologue to the opera that sets the chaos into motion.   The plotline of the myth itself is wrapped in a wider story of a theatrical group actually putting on the opera of Ariadne Auf Naxos, but the production is complicated by a variety of factors and characters. The group is forced to put on the opera simultaneously with an Italian comedy. Despite strange obstacles and heartbreak, the opera ends on a hopeful note with new love and a heartfelt duet.   2. Dido and Aeneas, Henry Purcell Aeneas Departs from Carthage (Aeneid, Book IV), by Master of the Aeneas, circa 1530-35. Source: The Metropolitan Museum of Art   Aeneas was a Trojan warrior and son of Aphrodite who managed to escape his fallen city after the Greeks masterfully took control. Aeneas brought a group of his former countrymen with him to seek out a place of refuge and, inevitably, adventure. Queen Dido of Carthage took pity when she welcomed the runaways into her home. Whether through natural circumstances or due to the gods’ intervention, Dido and Aeneas became lovers. Despite the joys of his new relationship, Aeneas considers the great destiny that lies ahead of him: founding Rome. During his departure, Aeneas breaks Queen Dido’s heart. In her devastation, Dido brings about her own death.   In Henry Purcell’s Dido and Aeneas, the pressing tensions and beautiful desires of the couple’s affair are musically amplified. Nahum Tate’s libretto for the famous work explores the dramatic emotional struggles that the characters face as Dido chooses love and Aeneas chooses political success, bringing victory to the scheming sorceress who had plotted Dido’s downfall and securing the future of a powerful Roman empire.   Dido and Aeneas had connected over past experiences of loss—the deaths of loved ones—and political power—hopes for establishing Carthage and Rome—but their separation seemingly predicted a future tragically void of love for the enthrallment of war. Rome and Carthage would later be engaged in what became known as the Punic Wars, also called the Carthaginian Wars, for nearly a century.   Venus giving arms to Aeneas, by Jean Cornu, circa 1704. Source: The Metropolitan Museum of Art   Purcell’s opera premiered in the late 1600s, and though it is believed that its first performance took place at a boarding school, some researchers have speculated about possible connections with England’s royalty through its performance and thematic structure. In addition to the work’s musical and romantic ingenuity, the leading lady’s Dido’s Lament, the final aria of Purcell’s opera, has remained a particularly popular piece among sopranos for centuries.   3. Elektra, Richard Strauss The Tomb of Agamemnon, by Louis Jean Desprez, circa 1787. Source: The Metropolitan Museum of Art   Electra’s hunger for revenge stemmed from a long bloodline of familial flaws and murderous acts. Her mother, Queen Clytemnestra, killed her father after his return from the seemingly endless battle at Troy.   According to Greek mythology, Queen Clytemnestra had designed to kill her husband as vengeance for sacrificing their daughter, Iphigenia, to the goddess Artemis in exchange for a fair wind that would help Agamemnon’s army sail to Troy for battle. Their younger daughter, Electra, never blames King Agamemnon for the sacrifice; thus, her mother’s act of murder does not bring her peace but rather a maddening desire for another round of bloodshed.   Elektra is another opera composed by Richard Strauss with a libretto by Hugo von Hofmannsthal. It premiered at Court Opera in Dresden in 1909 and began the lasting and fruitful collaborations between Strauss and von Hofmannsthal. Elektra is a unique character who frantically drives the climax of the story into action but does not actually commit the act of murder herself, leaving an odd mixture of emotions stirring within her. It is Elektra’s brother, Orestes (“Orest” in the opera) who sinfully yet vengefully kills his own mother. In her strange sense of victory that has been interpreted as a tragic kind of madness, Elektra engages in a dance while she urges everyone around her to remain in silence. She then collapses to her own death.   The modern and at times dissonant style of the music makes Elektra a truly powerful work and one of the most famous operas inspired by Greek mythology.   4. Medea, Luigi Cherubini Medea, by William Wetmore Story, carved 1868. Source: The Metropolitan Museum of Art   Similar to Ariadne, Medea was born a princess in Colchis but assisted the hero Jason, who comes to her homeland to take the famed golden fleece that has been in her family’s protection. Medea runs away with Jason, and her skills as a sorceress continue to help Jason succeed as a hero and as a leader. The two have children together, but Jason later decides that he must marry the princess of Colchis to achieve an even higher and more politically secure status.   Luigi Cherubini’s opera, with François-Benoît Hoffman’s libretto, begins with Jason’s betrayal of Medea. Enraged by the upcoming nuptials, Medea drenches a dress in poison and gifts it to Jason’s unknowing bride-to-be. The bride’s father tries to help his daughter remove the cursed dress, but they both perish. Medea’s vengeful acts do not end there: she takes her children and strikes up a massive flame that consumes them as a final punishment for Jason.   Cherubini’s opera has a long and complex compositional history. The work was originally an opera comique sung in French. It was called Medée and premiered in 1797 at the Théâtre Feydeau. Several years of edits and translations finalized the work as an Italian opera called Medea, a compilation featuring Cherubini’s composition combined with the efforts of Franz Lachner and several translators. This finalized version was made especially famous thanks to the renowned performances of the leading role by Greek-American soprano, Maria Callas.   Medea is a challenging role for sopranos, requiring both expert vocal technique and a powerful stage presence. Nevertheless, those who can manage it have succeeded in capturing the awe of audiences across the world, who appreciate the tragic tale and passionate music.   5. Orfeo ed Euridice, Gluck Orpheu, by Cristoforo Stati (Cristofano da Bracciano), circa 1600-01. Source: The Metropolitan Museum of Art   Orpheus’s story begins and ends with his great love for Eurydice, who is taken from him by a fatal snake bite. Because of his profound talents in poetry and music, the depths of Orpheus’s sorrows are heard by people everywhere as well as by the gods. Willing to take any chance at having Eurydice back at his side, Orpheus accepts the challenge of venturing into the Underworld and retrieving her, despite the fact that mortals are not typically allowed to return to Earth from the Underworld. He is promised that his journey will be successful, so long as he does not look back at Eurydice as she follows him out. Nearing the exit, Orpheus gives in to the emotions that overwhelm him and glances behind him, thus condemning Eurydice back to the Underworld.   Christoph Willibald Gluck’s Orfeo ed Euridice features a libretto by Italian poet Ranieri de’ Calzabigi that gives the famous lovers a happy ending: distraught by his failure, Orfeo, as he is called in the Italian opera, decides that he must die as well so that he can eternally be united with Euridice. To his surprise, the goddess of love appears and brings Euridice back to life. The opera concludes with a celebration of love and its unmatched power.   Gluck’s opera premiered at the Court Theatre (Burgtheater) in Vienna in 1762. The work sought to be revolutionary and artistically inspiring for new generations of artists, and it is often performed with compelling dance choreography that melds with the poetry and musicality of the productions. The role of Orfeo is one of opera’s most popular pants roles, leading many mezzo-sopranos as well as contraltos to fame and success across the world’s stages, which regularly position Gluck’s opera in their seasonal lineups.

  When something is 100% certain, we often say that it’s “as sure as the sun rises in the east.” That’s because the sun is the most dependable thing in all of human history. Except perhaps in Japanese mythology. Personified by the goddess Amaterasu (lit. “Heaven Shining”), one of the most important deities in the Shinto pantheon, the Japanese sun has been known to be a little fickle from time to time. Or perhaps she was just reacting properly to challenging circumstances. Here is her story.   The Sun Rises Late Amaterasu emerging from a cave by Utagawa Kunisada, 1856. Source: Wikimedia Commons   It took a while for Japan to see its first sunrise. According to Kojiki (An Account of Ancient Matters), the oldest text in Japanese history, when the heavens and earth first formed, three generations of gods appeared and then “concealed themselves.” The fourth generation, however, stuck around. A sun deity still was not among them, but the group did contain the siblings Izanami and Izanagi. They created the first Japanese island when Izanagi plunged his spear into the primordial waters below the heavens and a drop fell from his weapon when he pulled it out, creating the isle of Onogoro (Yasumaro, 2014, pp. 7-8).   Descending onto the island, the siblings got married and proceeded to create the rest of Japan via intercourse and childbirth. Islands, trees, mountains and all natural features were all born from Izanami. Unfortunately, one of Izanami’s children was a god of fire who fatally burned her when coming into the world. Stricken with grief, Izanagi ventured into the Underworld to retrieve his wife. Just like in Orpheus and Eurydice, something went wrong, and Izanagi ended up angering the undead Izanami who used hell-hags to chase him out. After his misadventure in the land of the dead (considered impure in Shinto), Izanagi decided he needed a cleansing bath (Yasumaro, 2014, The Kojiki, pp. 13-16).   The God Izanagi Purifies Himself by Bathing in the River, Natori Shunsen, 1916. Source: “Nihon no Kami-sama: Kojiki Ehanashi” via Wikimedia Commons     Washing himself in a river, he created a total of 14 gods, chief among them Amaterasu, who was born when Izanagi washed his left eye. Cleaning out his right eye gave us Tsukiyomi, the deity of the moon, while blowing his nose birthed Susanoo, the fearsome god of winds and storms.   A Murder Estranges the Sun and the Moon Shinto Moon God Tsukuyomi-No-Mikoto, Unknown, pre-19th century. Source: Shoto Museum of Art in Tokyo via Wikimedia Commons   All grown up, Amaterasu ruled the heavenly plains while keeping an eye on the goings-on below. Hearing rumors of Ukemochi who took on the role of the goddess of food, Amaterasu sent Tsukiyomi (also known as Tsukuyomi) down to Earth to wait on her. According to the Nihongi chronicle of myths, legends, and genealogies, Ukemochi prepared for the visit by arranging a wonderful feast using her mouth. Facing the sea, she parted her lips and brought all manner of fish into the world. Facing the land, she created boiled rice. Facing the mountains, land animals came to life from her mouth. All were then arranged into delicious dishes that filled up more than 100 tables. Unfortunately, Tsukiyomi was not pleased with the goddess’ offering.   “Filthy! Nasty!” he yelled, accusing Ukemochi of feeding him vomit. “That thou shouldst dare to feed me with things disgorged from thy mouth.” Then Tsukiyomi pulled out a sword and killed Ukemochi. Amaterasu never forgave Tsukiyomi for that, proclaiming: “Thou art a wicked Deity. I must not see thee face to face” (Aston, 2008, p. 32). Ever since then, the sun and the moon became separate, always keeping their distance from each other. As for Ukemochi, her dead body sprouted food meant for humans like wheat, rice, millet, and beans (Aston, 2008, p. 33). Even in death, the gracious deity continued to provide.   The God of Wind Angers the Sun Actor Portraying Susanoo in a Kagura Play, 2012. Source: Wikimedia Commons   After having seemingly proven his non-antagonistic intentions, Susanoo was welcomed by Amaterasu to the heavenly plains. However, his wild nature (befitting a deity whose name has been translated by Gustav Heldt as “Rushing Raging Man”) eventually got the better of him. While under the influence of drink, Susanoo ruined Amaterasu’s rice paddies, burying the ditches around them, and then defecated in the great hall where his sister held her harvest festival.   Many would probably consider the toilet prank to be the worst of all, but the agricultural destruction might have been more deadly. Many centuries later, after the death of Emperor Chuai, the imperial court made a list of the greatest sins possible to identify which evils they had to eliminate in order to purify the land. Destroying rice paddies and ditches was near the top of that list, sharing the designation of a great sin with transgressions like incest, flaying alive, or bestiality (Yasumaro, O., 2014, The Kojiki, 113).   Amaterasu tried to downplay Susanoo’s behavior, blaming it on the wine. “As for his ruining the paddy ridges and burying their ditches, my mighty brother must have done this because he thought good land was going to waste,” she proclaimed (Yasumaro, 2014, p. 22). That only seemed to embolden Susanoo. Later, while Amaterasu was overseeing the work in her sacred weaving hall, Susanoo lobbed a flayed horse inside, scaring one of the weaver maidens into accidentally pricking herself with a needle, which ended up killing her. This time, Amaterasu had enough.   The Day the Sun Disappeared Origin of the Cave Door Dance, Wada Yujiro, 1889. Source: Museum of Applied Arts, Vienna   Angry at her brother, Amaterasu secluded herself in the Heavenly Rock Cave, blocking the entrance to it with a boulder that no other god could move. Because she was the personification of the sun, this threw the world into eternal night, drawing out hordes of demons. All the other gods got together to find a solution. One of them, the goddess Ame-no-Uzume, had an idea. Her unorthodox plan was to do a frenzied, comedic dance on an overturned barrel, exposing her breasts and eliciting great laughter from her heavenly audience.   Eventually, intrigued by the noises outside, Amaterasu moved the boulder to her cave to have a peek when one of the more powerful gods pulled her out. Everyone then implored her to stay and bring light back to the world. Amaterasu agreed (Yasumaro, 2014, The Kojiki, pp. 23-24). Susanoo, on the other hand, was banished to Earth where he reformed his image by slaying Yamata no Orochi, a dreaded eight-headed serpent who kept devouring young maidens. After that, Susanoo became a respected and feared god and even obtained a legendary sword out of the ordeal. Ame-no-Uzume’s dance, on the other hand, became the mythical origin of kagura theater, possibly the oldest form of performing art in Japanese history.   The Sun Sets Her Eyes on Earth Ame-no-wakahiko Shooting an Arrow, 2020. Illustration by CycoMa. Source: Wikimedia Commons   Amaterasu eventually decided that the lands below the heavens should be under the control of the heavenly gods. Her actual words, according to the Kojiki, were: “The realm of plentiful reed plains, of a thousand and five hundred long autumns of fresh rice ears, will be a realm ruled by our heir” (Yasumaro, 2014, p. 41). The sun goddess sent the young Ame-no-Wakahiko ahead as a scout but he ended up liking Earth so much, he decided to ignore his mission and stay there. Amaterasu sent a messenger bird to check up on him so Ame-no-Wakahiko shot it with an arrow that kept going and eventually reached the heavens themselves.   Finding the blood-covered arrow, the gods sensed that something was amiss, so they sent the arrow back, which immediately hit and killed Wakahiko. During Ame-no-Wakahiko’s funeral, the god Ajisukitakahikone showed up looking exactly like the deceased. Being mobbed by mourners who thought that Wakahiko came back to life, Ajisukitakahikone was so insulted by being compared to a corpse that he pulled out his sword, called the Great Leaf Reaper, and destroyed the mourning hut, kicking it away whereupon it became a mountain known as Mount Mourning (Yasumaro, 2014, p. 44). This is why it is considered impolite to point out physical similarities between living and deceased people in Japanese society.   Statue of Ninigi-no-Mikoto at Kunimigaoka Viewpoint, Takachiho, Miyazaki, Japan, 2013. Source: Wikimedia Commons   Amaterasu eventually got her conquest under control, preparing the physical realm for the arrival of heavenly gods, and ultimately sending her grandson Ninigi down to Earth. Today, he is considered the ancestor of all Japanese emperors who for millennia claimed direct descent from him and, more importantly, his grandmother: the moon-shunning, flayed horse-fleeing, eternal darkness-bringing goddess of the sun. Modern Japanese emperors no longer consider themselves divine, but the link between the imperial household and Amaterasu remains strong, with some considering the sun goddess a representation of Japan itself.   Sources   Translated by Aston, W. G. (2008). Nihongi Volume I – Chronicles of Japan from the Earliest Times to A.D. 697. Cosimo Inc. (Original translation published 1896).   Yasumaro, O., translated by Heldt, G. (2014). The Kojiki, An Account of Ancient Matters. Columbia University Press.

June 27, 2025 — Today's Conservative Cartoon

Before they invented heavy metal, Black Sabbath were a blue band called Earth…

Scroll through any Christian athlete’s social media and you’ll likely see #AO1. Whether playing in front of 5 or 50,000, Christian athletes have been encouraged for decades to play for an “Audience of One.” The phrase began with Athletes in Action. A recent article quotes them when it explains the phrase is intended “to help Christian players remember that everywhere in life—even in a stadium full of people—‘we live and move and have our being in Him,’ so ‘it’s His pleasure we should pursue above all else.’” Learning to play sports for God’s glory, for an “Audience of One,” was revolutionary for me in my young faith. I was 17 years old when, at a summer camp, the Christians in Sport leaders helped me connect my love of sports with my faith. I’d never before considered what my discipleship could look like on the field or in the locker room. Ever since, I’ve used the phrase like a mantra to center my athletic training and performance on God. But there’s a problem: This practice is only helpful if we understand who the One we train and compete before is. Is God a Fickle Fan? Fans are odd creatures—fiercely loyal and incredibly fickle at the same time. Players feel and fear this volatile love. Manchester United star Eric Cantona once said, “I’m so proud the fans still sing my name, but I fear tomorrow they will stop.” Learning to play sports for God’s glory, for an ‘Audience of One,’ was revolutionary for me in my young faith. Fans are also distant. They sit in the stands behind the barriers. They think they know the players, but they only see the athletes’ performance once a week on the field. Do we think of God the same way? If we do, we’ll live as though a good performance once per week in church is what counts, even if the rest of our lives are half-hearted and compromised. Is God a Hard-to-Please Coach? From a young age, athletes are asked to perform to impress authority figures. Coaches decide your fate as you progress from high school to college and even in professional sports. Every metric is measured, every performance judged. It’s easy to think of God merely as another authority figure who rates our performance and rewards or cuts us accordingly. Ashley Null, an academic and a sports chaplain who has discipled elite athletes over six Olympic Games, points out a danger Christian athletes face when they think of God this way: “[Audience of One] is so helpful in getting athletes to stop thinking about using sport to earn the approval of parents, coaches, fans, countries and even of themselves. However, it still suggests that athletes are doing something for God instead of with him.” If God is merely a coach, you have no security. Your worth is in what you’ve won. World-record-holding 400-meter hurdler Sydney McLaughlin-Levrone narrated a story common for athletes: “If I won, that was my worth, my value.” Is God a Demanding Dad? Pressured by his dad, Andre Agassi achieved tennis greatness, but he never found happiness in tennis—and, sadly, he never felt love from his father. “I’m seven years old, talking to myself. [It would feel great] to never play tennis again,” Agassi writes. “But I can’t. . . . My father [would] chase me around the house with my racket. . . . Nothing sends my father into a rage like hitting a ball into the net. . . . He foams at the mouth.” What would the 7-year-old, or even 17-year-old, Agassi have understood if he’d heard a Christian tell him “God is your Father”? Surely he’d have imagined a looming, frowning, cosmic presence: Run faster. Work harder. You’ve let me down. What are you doing! God Is Your Loving Father A 2012 interview with Olympic swimmer Chad le Clos’s father went viral when he yelled delightedly into the camera about his “beautiful” boy. His words came after Le Clos won a gold medal, but they should remind us of the words heard from heaven at Jesus’s baptism: “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased” (Matt. 3:17). Christian athlete, because you’re in Christ, you’re beloved, win or lose. If God is merely a coach, you have no security. Your worth is in what you’ve won. God isn’t a fickle fan, distant and brittle in his love. God isn’t a hard-to-please coach, cutting us if we don’t perform. God isn’t a demanding dad, frowning at our inadequacies and shouting at us to try harder. No, our Audience of One is our loving Father. The good news of the gospel is that the Father loved us enough to send his Son to die for our sins. Jesus didn’t stay up there “in the stands” but came down to dwell among us, and now he comes to live within us by his Spirit. This makes every part of life, including sports, a means by which we can encounter God, worship God, and please him. The triune God needs nothing from us. He didn’t create us because he was deficient but out of an overflow of his love. He saved us not because of our performance but because of his grace. He walks with us not to berate us but to guide and strengthen us. Christian athletes may know all this, but we only find freedom as we learn to live these truths in the locker room, on the field, and after the game. As long as we think of God as fickle, hard-to-please, and demanding, sports will hinder our ability to build a solid Christian identity. We’ll always be striving, and we’ll always be insecure. Our successes will go to our heads, and our failures will crush our hearts. Thankfully, our identity as God’s children is received, not achieved. This is wonderfully good news for everyone, but for the athlete living in a performative sporting world, it’s essential.

In this keynote message from TGC’s 2009 National Conference, John Piper unpacks 2 Timothy 1:1–12 with a powerful call to “fan into flame” the gift of God, urging believers to live with courage, love, and self-control. He highlights the role of grace and the Word in strengthening us to speak and suffer for the gospel without fear or shame. Drawing from Paul’s example and Timothy’s sincere faith, Piper encourages pastors to feed the flame of God’s calling through deep dependence on God’s power and purpose.