and then you will see the gods looking kindly on you and no longer rushing at you, but proceeding to their own station in the order of things.

The crisis resolves. The gods who a moment ago stared and charged now look on the initiate eumenôs, with goodwill — the word for the favour a placated power shows — and turn back to their táxis, their assigned post. The vision has a chain of command: the divinities are not free-roaming terrors but ranked functionaries, and once the password of silence is given they resume their duties. The phrase “the order of things” (táxis tôn pragmátōn) quietly states the theology behind the whole rite. What the initiate has entered is not chaos but a cosmos — a standing arrangement into which even a mortal, correctly credentialed, can be admitted without breaking it. The danger was never that the gods were hostile; it was that an unannounced human is a disturbance in the ranks. Named and silenced, he is passed through.