Myth (n.) always pins the crisis on its victim: in the Ojibwa tale a supernatural being kills a man merely by lifting his veil to look.
Myth (n.) is a lynching told from the point of view of the lynchers, which turns a fantastic accusation into undoubted fact.
Myth (n.) is the persecutors' retrospective vision of their own persecution — so a text that takes the victim's side shakes ritual, taboo and the gods along with it.
A Myth (n.) would have told the Passion as just; the Gospels tell it as blatant injustice and drop the violence back on the heads it belongs to.
Myth (n.) grow scarcer in a world shaped by the Gospels, and texts about persecution grow more common, because a mechanism once revealed stops working.
Myth (n.) is a persecution text that has not yet been deciphered: the same stereotypes as in a medieval massacre, told by persecutors who believe every word.
Myth (n.) shows its meaning at once when transposed: retell Oedipus as a medieval village that drives out a lame stranger after bad harvests, and nobody calls it poetry.
Myth (n.) usually begins in a lack of differentiation: day and night confused, gods among men, sun and moon indistinguishable twins.
Myth (n.) wears a mask that covers the whole face, so that we see no victim and no persecutor, just as the Cyclopes heard only that no one had hurt Polyphemus.
Myth (n.) has two stages: the accusation of a not-yet-sacred scapegoat, then his sanctification through the community's reconciliation.
Myth (n.) can testify against false idylls of victims and executioners: the Teotihuacan story's hesitations run counter to that hypocritical vision without openly contradicting it.
Myth (n.) should be listened to above all when they contradict what we take for granted.
Myth (n.) that moralises faces a dilemma: clearing the god of guilt makes the community that punished him criminal, and that community is almost as sacred as the victim.
Myth (n.) has one elementary drama: twins with no real difference, mimetic rivalry, sacrificial crisis, collective murder; all the great writers and their imitators repeat it.
Myth (n.) is transformed in only one direction, toward the elimination of any trace of violence; the version without murder comes later.
Myth (n.) are defended not out of belief but because they protect us from the revelation rising out of mythology's ashes.
Myth (n.) is no longer real once it refuses the final sacrifice and denounces it as an abomination, as modern myths do under the Gospels' influence.