What is Pagan Prayer in the Hellenic/Latin Context?

Prayer is a reverent petition made to God, a god, or another object of worship. So if we want to understand pagan prayer, we have to talk about the who, the how, and the why. Starting with the who. For Hellenic and Latin polytheists, you’re mostly dealing with the Theoi in Greek or the Deorum in Latin. These are a whole range of entities who have some sway over parts of the world and who can actually listen to our prayers. For example, the Fates don’t really answer prayers at all and historically didn’t get offerings. They appear in myth and poetry, but they didn’t receive cultic practice outside a few rare local exceptions, so it’s fair to say they weren’t prayed to often. Fortuna, on the other hand, absolutely got offerings and prayers for good luck. Think of the difference between a god and not a god as less about parentage and more about whether the being receives offerings and can respond. Unlike the Christian idea, these gods aren’t all powerful and they can’t do everything. They’re more like divine advocates who operate within the universe. You build a relationship with them, and they help you in the ways they are able.

So, the how. Pagan prayer works differently because the gods aren’t omnipresent. They aren’t hovering over your shoulder at all times. In antiquity, gods could be ritually present at certain times of the year. A good example is Delphi, where Apollon ruled the warmer months and Dionysus the winter months. This is ritual and seasonal, not literal physical occupancy. It simply means Apollon wasn’t worshipped there year-round in the same way. Ancient religion was extremely localized and depended heavily on local tradition. For modern reconstructionist pagans, that creates a bit of a hurdle. And that’s where home shrines become important.

Historically, people worshipped in massive temples and the atmosphere must have been incredible. I’ve seen some old statues in museums, and even those are awe-inspiring. Imagine them fully painted, surrounded by incense and flowers, with people coming in and out giving offerings. Temples had their own rules about who could enter and when. Most worship was done outside at the altar, but entry into the inner space depended on festival rules and the direction of the temple caretaker, the neokoros. It wasn’t a place for moral lectures or weird little ceremonies about eating bread. It was a place where gods were honored, fed, and invited into presence.

So how does any of this inform modern practice? Basically, this is why home shrines matter so much now. We don’t have temples anymore, so our homes become the main places where we build a relationship with the gods. And to understand how to do that, it helps to look at what the ancients did. Greek households honored Hestia at the hearth and Zeus Ktesios, who protected the storeroom and the family’s prosperity, usually represented with a simple jar wrapped in a ribbon. Most Greek household symbols were like this, simple functional objects rather than figurines. Roman homes, on the other hand, kept actual small statues in the Lararium. They honored the Lares, guardians of the household and the land, and the Penates, who protected food storage and the inner life of the family. These were the powers people interacted with every single day, not just on festivals or big ritual events.

My practice is Roman in structure, with the Lares, Penates, and Jupiter at the center, but the way I understand the gods comes from Greek theology, especially Neoplatonism. I greet the local Lares and Penates each morning with a simple gesture, and I keep statues of many gods around my home. My main shrine changes with the season or what I need, and it has become my own little temple, a personal Lararium. I go to Jupiter only for major things, since I see him as too important to approach casually. The rest of my setup leans Roman, since Romans used small household images, while Greek homes relied more on hearths, jars, and simple altars. Modern statues are cheap and ancient people used terracotta votives anyway, so keeping a variety feels natural. Without public temples, our homes take on that role, so my household cult naturally sits at the center of my practice.

Ancient prayer can be divided into three parts: the invocatio or invocation, the pars epica or argument, and the preces or petition. This is a very simple guideline, not a strict formula. Ancient people prayed in many different ways. This is just a helpful framework for beginners. The invocation is your call to the god, summoning them or addressing them directly. It often included epithets or mythic references. The argument is basically why the god should listen to you. You don’t assume you get what you want just because you asked. Offerings usually tie in here. You give something of value, like wine or food, in hopes that the god looks kindly on you. Then the petition is where you state clearly what you want, whether it’s thanks, a request, or a need.

This is just what I do. You can build your own practice around your own needs. Every god has their own domain and their own way of being approached, and part of the practice is learning how to speak to them in a way that feels natural to you. If you want help figuring out how any of this applies to your life, reach out and I can see what I can do. And that’s been Razy’s guide to pagan prayer. I’ll leave you now with an example prayer I wrote after a breakup:

"Oh great Eros, source of sweet delight, holy and pure, and lovely to the sight. Remove your arrow from my bleeding chest. An arrow shot so long ago, has now expired. The fates have decided to upend, what was once holy and pure. Your sweet gift has spoiled and soured. Come to me! Release your arrow from my chest and may that restore my faith in you. That I may yet again smile and laugh with longing eyes into another. And may they too be burdened with your sweet delight."