Mithraeum at Santa Maria Capua Vetere revisited in February 2026

As a citizen of Poland who has studied the mysteries of Mithras for several years, and as part of a much longer, decades-long immersion in ancient Mediterranean mystery traditions together with Neoplatonically framed theurgic praxis, I would like to introduce you to one of the most beautiful and best-preserved Mithraea near Capua. I will do so through a short description of a ritual that the respectful caretaker of the site tacitly allowed me to perform.

I prayed and received sacraments and reconsecration in secrecy while he was away, with full respect for the adyton. I believe that our connection to mysteries is established through the soul—through metempsychosis and transmigration—rather than through land or blood. I found my own path long ago.

Given the constraints of space and time, I will divide this article into two parts: historical and practical. I will not enumerate what has already been thoroughly discussed in the scholarly literature, as most readers here are surely familiar with the standard volumes and articles. Instead, I will focus on aspects that are more rarely addressed.

The Mithraeum was constructed in the first half of the second century CE within an existing cryptoporticus. The panel depicting the sacred meal was installed, and during the Antonine period the tauroctony of Mithras was added; Luna was painted, the vault was constructed, and the somewhat shorter figures of Cautes and Cautopates were painted on the walls. The figure of the Heliodromus (the sixth grade—six being a solar number, as indicated by the Pompeian “Sator Arepo” square; Moeller, 1973) also belongs to this phase. The enlargement of the podia occurred in the third century CE, together with the addition of initiation scenes.

Vermaseren’s interpretation of Capua’s frescoes with scenes of initiation into the mysteries.
Vermaseren, 1971

The reconstructed historical initiation is based on fig. 5 in Vermaseren (p. 25). Along the ritual path, the initiate—now an aspiring mystes—was blindfolded and knelt on one knee as a gesture of reverence toward the sacred. He was then subjected to a ritual death, possibly involving a test with a scorpion, emphasizing trust in his brothers and honesty in initiation.

Afterwards, a mystes of the rank of Miles (associated with Mars), holding two torches symbolizing Cautes and Cautopates, knelt on both knees as if venerating the Dioscuri of Jupiter Dolichenus. Sabazian gestures (benedictio in Latin) may have been used to seal the initiate with the Crux Decussata of Kronos at the pneumatic or daimonic point between the eyebrows.

Only thereafter was the mystes “slain”—that is, he passed through a symbolic death. He then participated in an initiatory sharing of bread and wine and was introduced by the pater to the local community. He was most likely placed in a pit (perhaps symbolizing the Waters of Tantalus; the Capuan fresco depicts Oceanus in the lower left corner). Subsequently, he received sacred garments of blue and red and was led to accept the Crown from the pater.

His duty was to reject the crown as a temptation and place it upon his shoulder, uttering the words:

Atque perlata humeris tuli maxima divum.
(And I have borne the commands of the gods upon my shoulders.)

For Mithras himself is the true crown.

There are many accounts of people dying during initiations; the farther removed from the true mysteries, and the more distant in time, the bloodier such imaginings tend to become. Apart from the sacrilege attributed to Commodus—who reportedly slew an aspiring initiate—ritual slaughter was not the purpose of Mithraic initiation. It was not intended to kill a brother or sister. (Hyena, Lea, Mater, and other variations of female ranks are attested in some locations, while in others the cult appears to have been strictly male.)

Like the Sun and Saturn, the Kosmokrator and Orion, and Selene the Moon, the initiate walks the path of mystery. He reflects and absorbs teachings like the Moon, and then emits and creates greatness—aretē, intellectual discipline, and self-governance—through the symposium of planetary spheres, whose gods and goddesses instruct the young aspirant. This path is always overseen by the Selenic Moon, the Intellectual Sun, and Imperial Saturn.

As for the ritual through which I felt reconsecrated, I imagined and visualized a cosmic cave filled with stars and galaxies, moving through vast Aionic cycles. I then performed the X-shaped commendation of Kronos and prayed with the words:

Vale, Pater Noster Saturnos; vale, Kronos; Sol Invictus Mithras.

I contemplated the theological superstructures I have absorbed over many years and applied them within the brief time I had in that sacred space. As I emerged from the Mithraeum, I felt blessed and further committed to homoiōsis theōi—the work upon oneself—in order to participate in theion ergon, the work of the gods.

Should you ever visit this Mithraeum, you will find other magnificent wonders nearby: the amphitheater from which Spartacus began his rebellion, one of the most famous of the Republican period, and Hadrian’s triumphal arch, albeit now in disastrous condition. I would like to thank the Italian people for hosting an unwieldy and somewhat strange Pole upon their soil. I felt like a guest—and felt most welcome.