Names Of Weekdays And Runic Writing As Indications Of Commonality Amongst The Germanic Tribes

Dr. Burgert Senekal, University of the Free State

Ensovoort, volume 46 (2025), number 11: 2

Abstract

This study explores the commonality amongst Germanic tribes through a comparison of the names of weekdays and runic writing. It is shown how the names of weekdays illustrate that the same gods were known throughout the Germanic world, both in name and in function. It is also shown that while the runes were used across the Germanic world and in a consistent form, the practice of writing and reading runes has left traces in numerous Germanic languages in vocabulary associated with writing and reading. Overall, the study argues that the widespread occurrence of the primary gods and the use of the runes suggest some level of commonality amongst the Germanic tribes, even though these tribes were not politically united and no accounts have survived that show how they regarded themselves.

Keywords: Germanic tribes, weekdays, runic writing, cultural commonality, comparative analysis, shared heritage, historical linguistics, cultural anthropology, Germanic languages.

Introduction

The Germanic tribes of ancient Europe, including the Norse, Angles, Saxons, Franks, Goths, Vandals and various other groups, are believed by the majority of scholars to have shared a rich cultural heritage that has left a lasting impact on modern society. In recent years, however, some scholars have argued that the Germanic peoples did not have enough in common to distinguish them as an ethnic group. I believe that sharing a common language already suggests some form of commonality, for as Jackson (2012:49) states, “Language is not just an empty device for communication, it is a part of culture, it thrives within it, reflects it, and creates among its speakers a sense of belonging.”

Jackson (2012:48) furthermore argues that the days of the week and the runic script testify to a sense of community amongst members of the Germanic tribes, “these calendrical and scriptural innovations simultaneously testify to a sense of community among tribes linked by a common linguistic and religious heritage.” The current article takes Jackson’s suggestion and discusses how the days of the week and runic writing illustrate a sense of commonality amongst the Germanic peoples.

Background to the Germanic tribes

Before the Iron Age started in Scandinavia about 400 BCE, little is known about the languages, religions, and customs of the Germanic peoples (Simek 2004:75). It is thought that the Corded Ware Culture (2900 to 2200 BCE) is connected to the Proto-Germanic language (Olander 2019:25), and Heggarty et al. (2023:9) recently calculated that the Germanic branch separated from Indo-European languages by about 2800 BCE (see also Jackson (2012:50)). Germanic itself is usually dated to around 500 BCE (Bousquette and Salmons 2017:389; Mallory, Dybo and Balanovsky 2019:1483), and although dialects developed around that time, members of the Germanic tribes spoke the same language (Barnes 2008:274).

According to Trudgill (2023:17), some members of the Germanic tribes started migrating south from their homeland in Scandinavia around 1500 BCE. Germanic-speaking people occupied all of Jutland and a small portion of northern Germany from the mouth of the Elbe to the mouth of the Oder by 1200 BC (Trudgill 2023:17). Between 1000 and 500 BCE, Germanic tribes moved further southward from Scandinavia. The eastern branch of Germanic started to branch off from the rest of Germanic with Goth migrations from around 100 BCE, but only by about 450 CE did Proto-Northwest Germanic split into the North Germanic and West Germanic languages (Trudgill 2023:21). Glassman (2017:1281) asserts that even by 500 CE, members of different Germanic tribes could still converse with each other.

The migration may have left some traces in the names attributed to Germanic tribes. The Burgundians may have migrated from the Danish island of Bornholm (known in Old Norse as Burgundaholmr, “Island of the Burgundians”), the Vandals may have come from the Vendel area of Uppland in Sweden, the Rugians may have come from the island of Rügen (off the coast of Germany) and perhaps earlier from Rogaland in Norway, and the Goths may have come from the Swedish island of Gotland (Trudgill 2023:22). This migration is attested in the genetic record. For example, Stolarek et al. (2019) discovered that genetic evidence supports the Goth migrations into Europe from Southern Scandinavia starting in the 2nd century BCE. Additionally, Margaryan et al. (2020) discovered a genetic connection between Longobards and people from Kärda, a region in southern Sweden.

Early written accounts of historians’ encounters with the Germanic tribes are limited to a few sources. Pytheas of Marseilles sailed around Britain and up the coast of northern Europe in about 320 BCE, possibly passing by Jutland and entering the western Baltic (Todd 2004:1). His accounts only survive in the references of later historians, but he may have been the first observer from the Mediterranean to differentiate between Germanoi and Keltoi (Todd 2004:2). The first major clash between the Roman empire and the Germanic people came in 113 BCE, when the Cimbri invaded the empire (Todd 2004:44). In 109 BCE, the Cimbri attacked again, this time aided by the Teutones (Todd 2004:44). Around 80 BCE, Poseidonius of Apamea distinguished the Germanics (Germani) from the Celts and the Scythians in his Histories (Todd 2004:2). The first more detailed account of the Germani come from Julius Cæsar, who wrote in his Bellum Gallicum that the Germani was to be distinguished from the Celts by their savagery and primitive lifestyle (Cæsar 2016). The most well-known and detailed early Roman work on the Germanic tribes is by Tacitus, Germania (1999), written around 98 CE (Todd 2004:4). In this work, Tacitus provides a detailed account of the tribes that were considered to be Germanic, their customs and religion. Bella Germaniae by the elder Pliny, dating to the mid first century CE, did not survive (Todd 2004:4).

The Etruscan inscription on the Negau helmet B, dating to between the late fourth century BCE and 6-9 CE, is generally considered to be the earliest written Germanic found to date (Todd 2004:13; Hansen and Kroonen 2022:152). Runic inscriptions only date to the second century CE (Looijenga 2020:820), and in any case the earliest inscriptions are mostly short inscriptions. The earliest substantial Germanic text is the biblical translation into Gothic by Wulfila (also Ulfilas) around 300 CE (Trudgill 2023:22).

No written accounts survive in a Germanic language dating to the last centuries BCE to explain how the Germanic tribes regarded themselves and their relations, and how, when and why they migrated south from Scandinavia. As such, historians have been forced to use Roman sources, such as Cæsar (2016) and Tacitus (1999), and archaeological records, neither of which provide a fully reliable account of the Germanic tribes.

Some scholarship on the Germanic tribes towards the end of the nineteenth century is circumspect and tied to the rise of German nationalism, which was exploited by Nazi Germany for propaganda purposes (Liebeschuetz 2015:86). Nazi Germany attempted to use archaeology to construct a common Germanic identity that would unite large parts of northern Europe, as discussed in Gasche (2023). Following the end of World War II, some academics reacted to this misuse of Germanic history by attempting to deconstruct the ethnic identity of the Germanic tribes as a whole, among which Wenskus (1961) was particularly influential. He was followed by others with a more radical outlook in deconstructing Germanic identity (Gillett 2002; Amory 2003; Ward-Perkins 2006; Goffart 2009). Such scholars have questioned whether any commonality in terms of shared origins, migrations, or religions ever existed between Germanic tribes. A parallel trend can be observed with regards to the Celts, as discussed in Šalkovský (2021).

Neidorf (2013:174) and Liebeschuetz (2015:90) argue that while earlier Germanic studies need to be viewed critically, it does not automatically follow that no commonality existed between different Germanic tribes. Similarly, Jackson (2012:48) observes, “Yet the false assumptions inherent in such [Nazi] claims should not lead us to the conclusion that the [Germanic] community never existed; it simply means that it was not coherent enough to fit the stereotype.” Both Cæsar (2016) and Tacitus (1999) believed that the people living north of the Rhine were distinct from the Gauls and deserved their own ethnonyms, and they also believed that the people they referred to as Germans had certain cultural traits in common (Liebeschuetz 2015:97). Neidorf (2013:174) for instance argues, “an awareness of shared origins and intertwined histories, is evident in various sources from early Anglo-Saxon England.” Similarly, Liebeschuetz (2015:99) avers,

It is certainly true that the ethnicities of Late Antiquity were historical entities, originating in particular historical situations, and undergoing continuous transformation for as long a they existed. But continuous transformation is not incompatible with the possession of core-traditions. The various Germanic tribes possessed such traditions, and these traditions made it possible for these groups to function as effective units, and to survive from generation to generation. Some traditions, especially language, all the tribes had in common. Others were more specific. They underwent continuous modification and change, just as the tribes did, but at any moment each people possessed a certain store of traditional culture which one generation could hand on to the next.

Nevertheless, the Germanic tribes never referred to themselves as such (Todd 2004:8; Liebeschuetz 2015:97).

Both Neidorf (2013:174) and Liebeschuetz (2015:100) believe that attempts to deny any commonality among Germanic tribes is politically motivated. Neidorf (2013:174) argues that this denial is a reaction to Nazi misuse of Germanic history, and, “Extreme claims about the non-existence or impossibility of Germanic peoples identifying with one another appear to stem more from modern political considerations than from reassessments of medieval evidence.” Liebeschuetz (2015:100) makes a similar argument, noting that such criticisms,

… show no awareness that their own positions are very strongly ideological, deriving from the rejection of nationalism and the acceptance of multiculturalism, that are conspicuous features of current western values, and which find practical expression, among other things, in the downgrading of national patriotism in the interest of the European ideal.

There is some evidence that the Germanic tribes shared a common history. Stories concerning Attila the Hun (c. 406-453 AD) were documented in later poems in the Poetic Edda, and the Rökstone in Östergötland, Sweden, dating from approximately AD 800, alludes to Theodoric of the Eastern Goths in the fifth or sixth century (Jesch 2008:294). Many stories from the Völkerwanderungzeit may also be found in the Icelandic fornaldarsögur, one of the subgenres of the Icelandic sagas (Lönnroth 2008:306).

Apart from the arguments presented by Neidorf (2015) and Liebeschuetz (2015), I would like to emphasise two forms of Germanic commonalities, namely around the core Germanic pantheon and writing, as is discussed in the rest of the current article.

The days of the week and the core of the Germanic pantheon

Numerous contemporary scholars have highlighted commonalities amongst the Germanic tribes, in particular around the principal gods revered by the Germanic tribes. Hedeager (2008:12) avers:

What is crucial, however, is not to what extent these people [Germanic tribes] once emigrated in small groups from Scandinavia, but that their identity was linked to Scandinavia and that their kings were divine because they descended from Gautr or Óðinn/Wotan, with this figure’s clear association with the Germanic pagan religion and, maybe, the Scandinavian pantheon.

As Hedeager (2008:12) argues, there is some evidence that commonality existed between the Germanic tribes in terms of religion, although it must be remembered that there was a lot of variation as well (Gräslund 2008:249). Schjødt (2008:221) argues in a similar vein as Hedeager (2008:12),

…there seems to be no reason to doubt that there were some general structures that were known throughout the north, even if we must accept that a lot of details differed; myths were told in different ways, rituals were performed differently from one place to another and so forth. This also goes for the development in history. It is obvious that the religion of the Vikings differed from that of the Germanic peoples by the time of, let us say Tacitus, but on the other hand there is no doubt that certain gods as well as mythical and ritual structures must be seen as continuity.

Along with Odin/Woden/Wotan/Óðinn, the most significant gods during the Germanic Iron Age in Northwestern Europe were Týr/Tiwaz and Ϸórr/Thor/Donar, with Frigg being an important goddess at the time (Gimbutas 1999:191; Simek 2004:81; Shaw 2007:387; Schjødt 2019:65). These are also the gods emphasised by Tacitus (1999:42), although Tacitus only uses Roman theonyms in his interpretatio romana, referring to Mercury, Mars, Hercules, and Venus. Runic inscriptions also show that the same gods were worshipped across Germanic lands, such as the Nordendorf Fibula I, found in Augsburg and dating to the late sixth century, which includes a reference to wodan alongside Þonar (Schjødt 2019:62; Düwel, Nedoma and Oehrl 2020:459; Roost 2021:162). This is also the first attested occurrence of the name Wodan (Düwel, Nedoma and Oehrl 2020:465).

Despite its much earlier beginnings, the Romans invented the seven-day week as a means of time measurement, dated to the Augustan period (27 BCE – 14 CE) (Bultrighini and Stern 2021:10, 38).  The Romans used the planetary week, which included the seven known celestial bodies, organised based on a system of planetary movement (Bultrighini and Stern 2021:34-38). They named the planets and hence the days after their primary gods – Mars, Mercury, Jupiter, Venus and Saturn – and the Germanic peoples that would build upon the Roman Empire inherited this means of time measurement. The Roman names of the weekdays became transposed into a Germanic frame of reference through what is known as the interpretatio germanica (Simek 2004:82; Schjødt 2019:66). Importantly, Green (1998:247) highlights that these were also the gods mentioned by Tacitus (1999) as significant Germanic gods: Týr, Ϸórr and Óðinn, with Frigg being the sole goddess in both the Roman and Germanic week. The change from Latin gods to Germanic gods occurred as early as the 3rd or 4th centuries (Green 1998:246; Simek 2004:82), or as late as the 7th and 8th centuries (Shaw 2007:387), with Scandinavian countries adopting the seven day week in the 11th century (Sonne 2014:187). The weekdays are as follows (Green 1998:238-253; Falk 1999:124, 2003:49; Simek 2004:82; Shaw 2007:387; Sanders 2010:105; Sonne 2014:189):

1. Solis dies (day of the sun, Greek: day of Hēlios) became Sunnundagr in Old Norse, Sunnandæg in Old English and Sunnuntag in Old High German;
2. Lunae dies (day of the moon, Greek: day of Selēnē) became Mánadagr in Old Norse, Mónandæg in Old English and Mānetag in Old High German;
3. Martis dies (day of Mars, Greek: day of Arēs) became Týrsdagr (day of Týr) in Old Norse, Tiwesdæg in Old English and Ziestag in Old High German;
4. Mercurii dies (day of Mercury, Greek: day of Hermēs) became Óðinsdagr (day of Óðinn) in Old Norse, Wódnesdæg in Old English and Wodenstag in Old High German;
5. Jovis dies (day of Jove/Jupiter, Greek: day of Zeús) became Þórsdagr in Old Norse, Thunresdæg in Old English and Donerestag in Old High German;
6. Veneris dies (day of Venus, Greek: day of Áphroditē) became Friádagr (day of Frigg) in Old Norse, Frigedæg in Old English and Friatag in Old High German; and
7. Saturni dies (day of Saturn, Greek: day of Krónos) became Laugardagr (Bath Day) in Old Norse, Saternesdæg in Old English and Sambaztag in Old High German.

These Germanic gods were chosen because of their similarity with Roman gods (White 2014:288; Schjødt 2019:65). Saturni dies was not transposed into Germanic because no obvious parallel exists between Saturn and the gods in the Germanic pantheon (Shaw 2007:397). Not all Germanic languages retained the planetary weekday, however, and under Christian influence, Icelandic for instance rather uses numbers to designate days (Falk 1999:127). Generally speaking, planetary names were used in the north western Germanic countries, while more southern countries used Christian versions such as through numbering week days (Shaw 2007:389). Some Romance languages, such as Portuguese, did not retain the original planetary weekday and rather opted for Christianised weekdays, while French and Spanish retained the planetary week day (Shaw 2007:389).

In the sections that follow, the linguistic roots of these gods and one goddess are discussed.

Tuesday

Like Mars and Ares, Týr is the Germanic god of war (Green 1998:247; Gimbutas 1999:191). He is mentioned little in the Poetic Edda (Pettit 2023), and hence, very little is known about him. Since Óðinn later became associated with war, and Ϸórr also to some extent, naming Martis dies after Týr signifies that he may have been the primary war god in the Germanic pantheon in the first centuries CE.

Etymologically, the root form of Týr is *Tīwaz (Old English Tíw, Old High German *Ziu), which is related to Sanskrit déva (“god”) and Latin deus (“god”) (Orel 2003:408; West 2007:120; Jackson 2012:55; Kroonen 2013:519). The word is found in Proto-Indo-European as *diw/dyu, generally referring to the sky, and related to Latin dies (“day”) (West 2007:120, 167). The other Germanic word for a god, *guða (Gothic guþ, Old Norse goð, Old High German got), refers to “those worshipped” (West 2007:120). The Proto-Indo-European god, *D(i)yéus, has survived linguistically in Greek as Zeus, in Latin as Iū-piter (Jupiter), and in Sanskrit as Dyáus (Simek 2004:89; West 2007:166; Kroonen 2013:519). Given that *Tīwaz is etymologically related to these gods, Kroonen (2013:519) calls *Tīwaz “the Germanic sky and war god,” while Simek (2004:89) calls *Tīwaz “the oldest of the Norse gods etymologically speaking.” As such, *Tīwaz may have been a more important god before the Germanic tribes came into contact with the Roman Empire (Simek 2004:89).

*Tīwaz is also the god of justice (Gimbutas 1999:191; Schjødt 2019:62), and hence is associated with the Thing, which was a regular meeting where differences were resolved (Green 1998:247; Harte 2015:53). While many Germanic languages named Martis dies after *Tīwaz, German Dienstag and Dutch Dinsdag are related to the Thing: Green (1998:247) and Harte (2015:51) argue that Dienstag and Dinsdag refer to Týr’s full name, *Tiu þings (Týr of the Thing). German and Dutch therefore also named Martis dies after Týr, although slightly differently than the Scandinavian languages or English. As an aside, Ødegaard (2018) has shown that the Thing existed throughout the Germanic world in pre-Christian Europe, showing another Germanic commonality around Týr and one that revolves around legal proceedings.

Wednesday

According to Schjødt (2019:65-66), the identification of Óðinn with Mercury is significant, because the parallel is not simply that the day was named in honour of the most important god. Orel (2003:469) calls Óðinn “the highest god of the Germanic pantheon,” which Mercury is not. Schjødt (2019:65-66) believes the identification of Óðinn with Mercury must rest upon a deeper similarity between these gods, and the fact that both are associated with the dead and with secret knowledge is unlikely to be a coincidence. Looijenga (2003:80) furthermore notes that both Mercury and Óðinn are credited with the invention of writing.

Etymologically, the root of Óðinn is *Wōðanaz, which is derived from *wōđaz, “possessed, mad, frantic, furious” (Gothic woþs, Old Norse oðr, Old English wód), or “mind, wit, soul, sense” (Orel 2003:408; Jackson 2012:57), from Proto-Indo-European *uāt (“to be furious”) (Gimbutas 1999:227; Pokorny 2007:3227). The root *wōđaz is also related to Latin uātēs, “seer, prophet” (Orel 2003:469), while oðr also refers to “song, poetry” (Kroonen 2013:592) (see also Näsström (1996:69), Düwel, Nedoma and Oehrl (2020:465-466) and Schjødt (2019:62)). The suffix means “ruler of/lord of”, making Odin the ruler of the frenzy (Green 1998:124; West 2007:137; Düwel, Nedoma and Oehrl 2020:465). As Düwel, Nedoma and Oehrl (2020:466) define the name, “die Überordnung über den Bereich der (dichterischen und prophetischen) Inspiration bzw. Weisheit.”

The very fact that Óðinn has similar name forms across the Germanic world suggests that this god was widely known across the Germanic tribes: he is known as Othinn in Old Swedish, Wōden in Old English, Wodan in Old Saxon, and Wotan or Wuotan in Old High German (Benoist 2018:62; Schjødt 2019:62). A few of the most prevalent bracteates (of which there are at least 400 known) belong to the C type and are believed to show the god Óðinn either with his two ravens, Muninn and Huginn, or with his eight-legged steed, Sleipnir (Simek 2004:81; Benoist 2018:11). Many Germanic tribes held Óðinn in high regard from the early Middle Ages, and perhaps even from the start of the Common Era (Schjødt 2019:62). It is also possible to trace Óðinn to even earlier god forms, and according to Schjødt (2019:64), Óðinn can even be traced to Indo-European god forms (at least as early as 3000 BCE).

It is noteworthy that modern German itself does not retain *Wōðanaz for the mid-week day. Under the influence of Christian authorities, the mid-week day was changed to Mittwoch (Falk 1999:127). Green (1998251) notes that it is unlikely that *Wōðanaz was not known in southern Germany; rather, “the absence of a god’s name could suggest that he had been worshipped there and that the continued existence of his name in the day of a week could not be tolerated.” In other words, *Wōðanaz’s importance may have led to him being omitted from the German week by the Christian church.

Thursday

The identification of Ϸórr with Jupiter is at first glance surprising, since Ϸórr is otherwise compared with Hercules in Roman sources, based on his exploits (fights with giants and monsters), and his hammer, which is compared with Hercules’s club (Green 1998:247). As discussed above, Týr is a more suitable comparison to Jupiter, being both linguistically related to Jupiter and the original sky god. Otherwise, since Jupiter is the most important Roman god, equating him with Óðinn would have been sensible in this sense. The identification of Thor with Zeus therefore seems to be based on his power over lighting (Green 1998:248; Simek 2004:82).

Etymologically, the root of Ϸórr is *þunraz (Old English ðunor, Old High German donar), meaning “thunder”, which is also related to Sanskrit stánati (“to thunder”) (Orel 2003:408; Jackson 2012:56).

Friday

While some sources give the origin goddess for Friday as Frigg (Grundy 1996:64; Gimbutas 1999:194; Shaw 2007:387; West 2007:144; Sonne 2014:188; White 2014:287; Schjødt 2019:65), others (Falk 1999:124; Sanders 2010:106) provide Freyja as the origin of this day, Falk (2003:49) gives both Frigg and Freyja, and Price (2020:45) even claims that Friday was named after Freyr. In addition, the 10th century Anglo-Saxon clergyman, Ælfric of Eynsham, wrote that the day of Venus was referred to as the day of “Fricg” (White 2014:289). Green (1998:248) notes that the root word, fria, is associated with love, courtship, marriage and women, thus making the identification of either Frigg or Freyja with Venus straightforward, since all three goddesses are associated with love (although Price (2020:42) questions whether Freyja can be regarded as a Norse form of Venus).

The etymology of Frigg and Freyja provides some clarification on this issue. In Kroonen (2013:155), the meaning of the root *fri(j)a is given as “free” (Gothic freis, Old English frēo), which is related to *fri(j)ōn, “to love” (Gothic frijon, Old Norse frjá) and *fri(j)ōnd, “friend” (Gothic frijonds, Old Norse frændi) (see also Orel (2003:114)). Frigg’s Proto-Germanic form has been reconstructed as *Frijjo (Grundy 1996:64; Orel 2003:114; White 2014:287). On the other hand, Orel (2003:112) gives the root for Freyr as *fraw(j)ōn, meaning “lord, master” (Gothic frauja, Old English freá), and the root for Freyja as *frawjōn, meaning “lady” (Old High German frouwa) (see also Grundy (1996:64) and West (2007:140)). Given that *Frijjo is associated with love, and not *Frawjōn, the original goddess should be Frigg, since her name itself means love, which Venus also personifies. In addition, Grundy (1996:64) notes that there is no evidence that a common Germanic goddess named *Frawjōn was ever worshipped, and references to Freyja are confined to Scandinavia. Lastly, Frigg is the only major goddess from the Viking Age with a pre-Viking history (Simek 2004:90).

However, Freyja is referred to as Óðr’s wife in the Old Norse Vǫluspá (verse 25) (Pettit 2023:42). As mentioned above, the name Óðinn is related to Old Norse oðr, and Pettit (2023:63) writes that Óðr’s name “suggests that he might once have been a double, or an aspect, of Óðinn.” Näsström (1996:69) also claims that Óðinn and Óðr were originally the same god. This issue is discussed at length in Grundy (1996), who notes that myths surrounding Frigg and Freyja overlap, and that an argument can be made that Freyja and Frigg were originally one goddess. This however seems unlikely, since Frigg is clearly described as one of the Æsir, while Freyja is one of the Vanir. Grundy (1996:66) argues that they were likely two different goddesses, and the reference to Freyja as Óðr’s wife in Vǫluspá may indicate a polygamous relationship of Óðinn.

Modern Germanic languages

The gods and goddess discussed above have left a lasting impact on the names of week days in numerous Germanic languages. The names of week days in some of these languages are shown in Table 1, with English names provided as headings. As can be seen in Table 1, the three gods and one goddess have impacted Germanic languages across northwestern Europe, with one – Afrikaans – even carrying their names to the African continent. While Afrikaans only developed towards the late 19th century and thus inherited the Dutch names for week days, the others suggest that *Tīwaz, *Wōðanaz, *þunraz, and *Frijjo were widely known throughout the territories inhabited by Germanic-speaking peoples.

Table 1. The names of week days in some Germanic languages.

Language	Tuesday	Wednesday	Thursday	Friday
Afrikaans	Dinsdag	Woensdag	Donderdag	Vrydag
Danish	Tirsdag	Onsdag	Torsdag	Fredag
Dutch	Dinsdag	Woensdag	Donderdag	Vrijdag
Frisian	Tiisdei	Woansdei	Tongersdei	Freed
German	Dienstag	Mittwoch	Donnerstag	Freitag
Norwegian	Tirsdag	Onsdag	Torsdag	Fredag
Swedish	Tisdag	Onsdag	Torsdag	Fredag

The following section discusses the other form of Germanic commonality considered in the current article, namely writing.

Linguistic traces of rune use in the Germanic languages

The runes of the elder futhark, which dates to 50-700 CE, were found in a remarkably consistent form across the Germanic world, occurring in modern day Belgium, Bosnia-Herzegovina, the Czech Republic, Denmark, France, Germany, Hungary, Italy, the Netherlands, Norway, Poland, Romania, Sweden, Switzerland and Ukraine (Benoist 2018:6; Looijenga 2020:821; Roost 2021:8). Indeed, Looijenga (2020:820) calls the futhark, “The  indigenous  ancient  alphabet  of  Germania.”

One of the curious issues around the elder futhark is its consistency. Moltke (1985:45) refers to a law of alphabet history: “The alphabet mirrors society. Many independent societies — many alphabets or variants. One large cohesive and firmly-governed state — one stable alphabet.” The lack of large variation in the elder futhark is therefore surprising, since the Germanic peoples were not politically united at the time and no central authority existed to standardise the runes. In addition, Musset ((1965:131), quoted in Benoist (2018:9)) notes that the names of the runes are also consistent, and argues, “the runes got their names at a time when the Germanic world was still unanimously pagan and relatively united.”

Not only are the runes themselves consistent during the use of the elder futhark, as well as the names of the runes, but also their language is consistent around the 2nd and 3rd centuries CE (Looijenga 2020:842). This provides some proof for theories that the northern and western branches of Germanic did not split within the first few centuries CE, which indicates a common Germanic language.

The runes are known as such after the Einang stone (4th century Norway), which reads, dagaR þaR rūnō faihidō (Benoist 2018:60). The word rune is generally considered to mean “mystery, secret”, with Proto-Germanic form *rūnō (Old Norse rún, Old English rún, Old High German rūna) (Green 1998:255; Orel 2003:310).

Another term for runes is staves. The inscription on the Gummarp stone, dated to the beginning of the 7th century, refers to the runes as stabaR, “staves” (Green 1998:255; Benoist 2018:14). Benoist (2018:14) reminds us that the runes were originally carved on wood, and argues on the basis of etymology that the German Buchstabe literally means “beech stick.” Buchstabe consists of the German Buche (“beech”) (cognate with Proto-Germanic *bōk(j)ō, “beech”, Old Norse bók, Old English bōc, Dutch beuk, English beech) (Orel 2003:52; Kroonen 2013:71), and Stab (“stick”) (Proto-Germanic *stabaz, “staff, letter”, Gothic stabos, Old Norse stafr, Old English stæf, Dutch staf, English stave) (Orel 2003:368; Kroonen 2013:471). The compound also occurs in other Germanic languages, for example Old High German buoh-stab, Old Norse bók-stafr, Old English bóc-stæf, Afrikaans boekstaaf (Orel 2003:51). Kroonen (2013:71) makes a similar argument, also stating that the Germanic tribes initially carved runes on wood. To Buchstabe something then originally means to record/carve it on wood, just as the synonym for the runes, staves, also means wood. It should be noted that there is some controversy over this etymology and Mees (2006:215-217) makes an argument for an original meaning of book as “lot.” Also note that staves are found in various Germanic languages in conjunction with the runes, e.g. Old Norse rúna-stafr, Old English rún-stæf and Old High German rùn-stab (Orel 2003:310).

Benoist (2018:15) also notes that the English write (Proto-Germanic *wrītan, “to carve,” Old Norse ríta, Old English wrītan) (Orel 2003:473; Kroonen 2013:596) comes from an Indo-European root meaning “making an incision in something, making a notch in something, engraving” (see also the University of Helsinki (2023)). The meanings of this word in various Germanic languages provided by Orel (2003:473) and Kroonen (2013:596) also amount to: “to carve.” Green (1998:257) notes that the Old Norse and Old High German words have the specialised meaning “to cut, incise runes.” When one says in English that one writes something, it literally means to carve something.

The Old Norse skrífa (Dutch schrijven, German schreiben, Old High German skrîban) comes from the Latin word, scrībō, “to write” (Green 1998:263; De Vaan 2008:546). Interestingly, De Vaan (2008:546) gives the Proto-Indo-European root of this word as *skreib, “to carve,” which may suggest that the practice of carving symbols may be much older than the runes.

The German word, Zeichen, and Dutch/Afrikaans teken come from a Proto-Germanic root, *taiknan (“sign”) (Gothic taikn, Old Norse teikn, Old English tācn, English sign), originally meaning “omen” (Orel 2003:399; Kroonen 2013:506). That which is carved, the sign, is in other words also an omen.

Green (1998:257) highlights that the Old Norse phrase, ráða rúnar, meaning “to read the runes,” occurs on numerous rune stones in Scandinavia. The Proto-Germanic form of this word is *rèđanan, in Gothic ga-redan (“to intend, to have a plan for”), Old Norse ráða (“to advise”), Old English rædan (“to counsel, to ask advice”), and Old High German rātan (“to advise, to consider”), (Orel 2003:304; Kroonen 2013:408). In modern Dutch this word became raden and in German raten, both meaning “to council”, while in modern English the word became “to read” (Kroonen 2013:408). To read (in English) therefore originally may have meant to seek advice from the runes.

Benoist (2018:54) and Green (1998:264) note that German lesen first meant “to gather, to assemble” (from Proto-Germanic *lesanan, “to choose, select”, Gothic lisan, Old Norse lesa, Old English lesan, Dutch lezen (Orel 2003:241; Kroonen 2013:331)). Benoist (2018:54) and Green (1998:265) relate this original meaning to Tacitus (1999:42), who wrote how the Germanic peoples cast pieces of wood with signs on them and selected some signs for divination purposes. Tacitus (1999:42) writes,

They attach the highest importance to the taking of auspices and the casting of lots. Their usual procedure with the lot is simple. They cut off a branch from a nut-bearing tree and slice it into strips. These they mark with different signs and throw them at random onto a white cloth. Then the state’s priest, if it is an official consultation, or the father of the family, in a private one, offers prayer to the gods and looking up towards heaven picks up three strips, one at a time, and, according to which sign they have previously been marked with, makes his interpretation.

This observation by Tacitus is echoed in the Old Norse Hymiskviða (verse 1) (Pettit 2023:266-267), where twigs are apparently interpreted.

Ár valtívar   veiðar námu, ok sumblsamir,   áðr saðir yrði; hristu teina   ok á hlaut sá, fundu þeir at Ægis   ørkost hvera.

Early, the gods of the slain caught game, and were eager for a feast, before they were full; they shook twigs and inspected sacrificial blood, they found at Ægir’s an ample choice of cauldrons.

To read may then originally have meant to select and collect signs. In this respect, it is also interesting that the Proto-Indo-European form of the word, *leso, carries the same meaning (University of Helsinki 2023). Kroonen (2013:332) however argues that it was not through the process of “picking letters” that the original meaning of “pick, select” evolved into “to read,” but rather through the intermediary sense of “to examine, analyse”.

In conclusion, the etymology of words related to runic writing provides valuable insights into the widespread knowledge and practice of runic writing among the Germanic tribes. The origins of terms such as “rune,” “staves,” “write,” “Zeichen,” and “lesen” all point towards the practice of carving symbols, seeking advice, and divination through the use of runic writing. The association of runic writing with concepts of mystery, secrets, signs, and omens highlights the significance of these symbols in the spiritual and practical lives of the Germanic tribes. Overall, the etymology of words related to runic writing underscores the deep-rooted cultural and linguistic connections among the Germanic tribes and highlights the widespread use and significance of runic writing in their societies.

Conclusion

The consistent naming of weekdays after key gods and goddesses in the Germanic pantheon, such as Týr, Óðinn, Ϸórr, and Frigg, across various Germanic languages reflects a common cultural heritage and religious belief system. The linguistic roots of these deities’ names and their associations with specific days of the week demonstrate a deep-seated connection and commonality among the Germanic tribes in their religious practices and beliefs.

Similarly, the examination of runic writing and its etymological traces reveals a widespread and consistent use of the runic script across different regions inhabited by Germanic-speaking peoples. The uniformity in the naming of runes, the consistency of the runic language during the elder futhark period, and the shared meanings associated with runic terms indicate a common cultural and linguistic tradition among the Germanic tribes. The practice of carving symbols, seeking advice, and divination through runic writing was a fundamental aspect of their spiritual and practical lives, further emphasising the common cultural characteristics shared by the Germanic tribes.

Overall, the preceding article underscores the interconnectedness and shared cultural heritage of the Germanic tribes. The consistent use of language, religious beliefs, and writing practices across various Germanic regions highlights a sense of community and commonality among these tribes, reflecting a shared identity and cultural cohesion that transcended geographical boundaries.

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