Isis and Osiris

Before the first pyramid was ever built, before the stone cutters laid their bronze chisels against the limestone of Giza, there was a time when the gods walked upon the black earth of Egypt. In those ancient days, the world was young, and the great river Nile was the heartbeat of everything. To the east and the west lay the red land, the vast burning deserts where the sun scorched the sand to a golden glare and nothing could grow. But along the banks of the river lay the black land, rich dark soil, wet with life, where the green reeds whispered in the breeze and the water ran cool and sweet. This is a story from that old sacred country, a myth that the people of Egypt told for thousands of years to explain why the river rises, why the barley grows, and what happens to us when we close our eyes for the last time. It is a story with many tellings, passed down from grandmother to grandchild under the starlight of the desert nights. And this is the telling of how a great love mended what a terrible jealousy had broken. In that golden age, the king of Egypt was Osiris. He was not a distant king who hid away in a stone palace. He was a God who walked among his people. Osiris was a tall, noble figure, often pictured with skin as green as the first shoots of spring barley, for he was the Lord of growth and vegetation. Before Osiris came to the throne, the people of Egypt did not know how to tame the wild earth. They wandered the hills, gathering wild roots and hunting whatever they could find, always hungry, always at the mercy of the dry seasons. But Osiris changed everything. He showed them how to dig canals to catch the flood waters of the Nile. He taught them how to guide the wooden plow behind the oxen, how to scatter the grain in the wet mud, and how to harvest the golden wheat when the sun had made it tall. He showed them how to press the grapes for sweet wine, how to bake bread in clay ovens, and how to brew beer from barley. More than that, Osiris gave the people laws so they could live in peace. He taught them to respect the boundaries of their neighbor's fields, to care for the widow and the orphan, and to worship the gods with music and song. Under his rule, there was no war. The sound of the flute and the harp drifted over the fields at evening, and the people sang as they brought home the harvest. Beside Osiris sat his queen, Isis. If Osiris was the strength of the land, Isis was its spirit. She was the cleverest of all the gods, a woman of deep wisdom and powerful magic. She knew the secret names of the stars, the healing virtues of every herb that grew in the marshes, and the words of power that could turn back a storm. She did not rule from behind her husband. She ruled beside him, sharing his burdens and his joys. Together they were the perfect balance of the world, the green earth and the life-giving water, the king and the queen, the sun and the moon. But where there is great light, there must also be shadow. Far beyond the green valley, in the dry, howling wastes of the red desert, lived Osiris's brother, Set. Set was the God of storms, of the scorching wind that blew from the south, and of the wild, untamed places. He was strong, fierce, and unpredictable. His skin was the color of the red sand, and his eyes were like coals. For a long time, Set watched his brother from the edge of the desert. He watched the people of Egypt sing praises to Osiris. He heard them call Osiris the good king, the giver of life, the beloved. He saw how the black earth flourished under his brother's touch, while his own domain was nothing but dust, rocks, and dry bones. Jealousy is a quiet poison. It does not start as a great…

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