If you’re reading this, there’s a decent chance you also read portions of my series on The Book of Job and The Iliad. Welcome to my thoughts on Homer’s Odyssey. At some point in the introductory essay to these others series I inevitably find myself saying something like, “The Odyssey isn’t actually what you think of when you think of The Odyssey” and then I delve into a lengthy pedantic digression projecting my personal ignorance on society at large that eventually gets around to the conclusion that I think the consensus take or conventional wisdom on a piece of literature is flawed. Rest assured I have not changed, but I’ll try to tighten up my thoughts in this case. What most people think of when they think of the Odyssey: The Lotus Eaters, The Cyclops, Circe turning men into swine, The Sirens, the twin perils of Scylla and Charybdis are definitely in The Odyssey, but they aren’t all of it or even most of it. The “Great Wanderings”, the adventures of Odysseus on his prolonged voyage home to Ithaca from Troy, occupy Books 9-12 of The Odyssey. They account for 1/6th of the text, and something like 3 years of the decade long story. That is to say that when most people think of The Odyssey they think about a relatively small section of the narrative. I honestly don’t intend to be a killjoy here. Those stories are great fun. I would love to hear the sirens’ song and live to tell the tale. Even though I know he’s gonna make it out alive, the business of Odysseus and his men entering Polyphemus’ cave still ties my stomach in knots. I have no doubt that the adventure tales of Books 9-12 are the main reason anyone in the modern world has any familiarity with this text. I can admit that and also hold the view that The Odyssey has a lot more to recommend it to a 21st century audience than just the exciting tales of seafaring adventure.
One of the most noticeable aspects of The Odyssey is how it is structured. The Iliad has a simple, linear storyline; we start with a confrontation in the Greek Camp and progress to Hector’s funeral in an almost entirely chronological order. Based on the assumption that both The Iliad and Odyssey grew out of an oral tradition, and that they would each require about 24 hours of performance time implying their performance was spread out over several days; employing a simple linear structure would make a lot of sense. The Odyssey isn’t the most complex or disorienting narrative, but the first half of the text is divided into two parallel subplots with a flashback occupying substantial real estate. If you chose to step out to refill your popcorn at an inopportune moment there’s a non-zero chance you could be in an entirely different subplot or place in space-time than when you left. For a modern audience well versed in this technique, aided by the division of the text into “books” that roughly correspond to these spatial and temporal shifts this is not groundbreaking or novel stuff. To be honest I’m not qualified to comment upon how common this technique was 3000 years ago, but because The Iliad and Odyssey are attributed to the same author (I’m gonna resist the impulse to have a long digression on “The Homeric Question” here, aren’t you proud of me?) it feels like a substantive shift and is a noticeable difference between the two poems. Apart from the potential novelty of the technique, I think it makes the story more interesting by successfully building tension for the audience.
We are brought up to speed regarding the desperate political and familial situation on Ithaca. We are then presented with a portrait of a thoroughly broken man. One thing both modern and ancient audiences bring to the narrative is the knowledge of Odysseus’ reputation, and so we must wonder: “How did things on Ithaca get to this?”, “How will Odysseus return home?”, “Is he capable of successfully facing the challenges that await him there?”, “Will his wife and son be willing and able to help him?”. For a modern reader familiar only with The Great Wanderings who believes these stories to be “the main event” the first third of the narrative may feel like a weird set-up, and the remainder of the text an anti-climax, but once we realize books 9-12 are an interesting subplot that serve a greater story, then we can appreciate the questions of social and moral behavior entertained by the epic. We can ponder how the judgments provided within the text are similar and different from our own, and we can then turn the lens on our own lives and times and connect with it in a way that may have eluded us in the past. At least, that’s what happened to me.
Like The Iliad, The Odyssey is not a religious text, but it entertains moral and social questions and vividly portrays the consequences of individual and group choices. Its villains clearly transgress a variety of moral boundaries and reap the consequences. While you and I may question the moral judgments of the story, its characters, and intended audience; our heroes are marked by adoption and compliance with favored values and wisdom. In both poems the importance of the practices of Xenia cannot be overestimated. I’d like to think I ended my thoughts on The Iliad on a positive note identifying Homer’s portrayal of Xenia as a means of developing and healing relationships exemplified by Achilles’ rage finally being soothed when he honors Priam as a guest in his camp and grants him the gift of a proper funeral for Hector. An unstated understanding of Xenia permeates The Iliad: Paris’ gross violation of his relationship with Menelaus initiates the entire Trojan War, and Homer highlights its practice and power several times in the narrative. However The Iliad takes place in a war zone, so proper exercise of Xenia is the exception and not the rule making its practice all the more remarkable. The Odyssey has plenty of conflict, but it is primarily a quest narrative involving extensive travel requiring many different hosts to receive many different strangers, consequently the illustration of Xenia as a guiding force in society takes a far more prominent role. Technically The Odyssey has two hero’s journeys; both Telemachus and Odysseus fit pretty neatly into the Otto Rank/ Joseph Campbell monomyth structure. One of the central features of a hero’s journey is confronting temptations and challenges, and in traditional myth this often takes the form of defeating monsters. Theseus defeated the Minotaur. Jason had to deal with fire breathing oxen and a sleepless dragon. Most of the labors of Heracles involved monsters: The Nemean Lion, The Lernean Hydra, The Erymanthian Boar, The Stymphalian Birds, The Cretan Bull, The Mares of Diomedes, Geryon the giant, and Cerberus the three-headed dog guard of Hades. Heroes sometimes face human monsters. Moses faced off with Pharoah, David slew Goliath, and George Washington defeated the British. Odysseus squares off with a wide variety of monsters in his journey, and Homer frequently tips his hand about when an encounter is going to be with a helpful stranger offering wisdom or a boon for the journey, or whether or not someone is gonna need defeating: the protocols of Xenia. When they’re followed, something good is gonna happen, when they’re not, there’s likely going to be conflict and more often than not someone’s gonna end up dead. Where the Homer of The Iliad juxtaposes the cultural assumptions of Xenia against the demands of conflict and the twin desires for glory and honor in an unobtrusive way, the Homer of The Odyssey nearly beats us over the head with detailed descriptions and conversations shaped by this custom in practice. The Odyssey is a far more domestic tale examining the effects of war, loss, and absence on all of society by focusing on one family’s story, so it checks out that a practice whose central feature is welcoming an outsider into one’s home would be a focal point of the narrative.
Book One of the Odyssey opens with the bard invoking the help of the Muses to tell the story of Odysseus, we are treated to a measure of background information and some foreshadowing of his travails to come. We are brought up to speed about his current state and location (stuck on Ogygia with Calypso for the past 7 years) and of how Athena takes advantage of Poseidon’s temporary absence from Olympus to plead Odysseus’ case to Zeus and set in motion the terminal steps of his journey home. We are also informed of the trouble brewing on Ithaca, the wife who mourns his loss and anxiously wishes for his return, the suitors seeking to declare him dead, marry his presumptive widow, and assume his throne as King of Ithaca. We meet the son he has never known who lacks knowledge and confidence in navigating his duties as prince and heir. Once she gains Zeus’ approval Athena descends on Ithaca and assumes the appearance of an old copper merchant acquainted with Odysseus since the days before the Trojan War. In disguise she approaches the gates of Odysseus’ home. Odysseus’ son Telemachus is sitting, surrounded by reveling suitors, but emotionally alone, daydreaming about his father’s triumphant return when he sees a stranger at the gates.
He disapproved of leaving strangers stranded, so he went straight to meet her at the gate, and shook her hand, and took her spear of bronze, and let his words fly out to her. “Good evening, stranger, and welcome. Be our guest, come share our dinner, and then tell us what you need.”
If the countless examples within The Odyssey are to be taken as an accurate guide to the practical application of Xenia then the first order of business when a stranger approaches your home is to welcome them in. Don’t ask who they are, don’t ask their business or their agenda. Bring them in with a warm greeting and get to the business of seeing to the basic human needs of food, clothing, and shelter. If you’re like me this seems kinda crazy, but it is attested to more times than I care to count in the text.
The host has opened his or her home to a stranger, this is a potentially risky proposition, while a level of trust is implied and demanded to do this, the guest has an obligation to declare that he is unarmed, or else to hand over her weapons as they cross the threshold into the home. Telemachus takes Athena’s spear and sets it with the other weapons in a quiet corner as she enters the house. Now, the guest is at the mercy of the host. The need for mutual trust cuts both ways. Next, there’s the business of washing and sometimes anointing. Travelers walking on dusty roads want clean hands to enjoy their food.
A girl brought washing water in a jug of gold, and poured it on their hands and into a silver bowl, and set a table by them.
If a traveler is extra dirty a bath is offered, and then olive oil is used as a moisturizer. If the text is to be believed people often come out of the washing and anointing with olive oil looking fabulous, their appearance is occasionally compared with the gods (23:154-163). A change of clothes is often part of the free spa package. Then a meal is provided.
A deferential slave brought bread and laid a wide array of food, a generous spread. The carver set beside them plates of meat of every kind, and gave them golden cups. The cup boy kept on topping up the wine.
Once the meal is laid out Homer uses two stock lines to advance to the point where a discussion of the identity of the stranger and the purpose of the visit are discussed.
They reached to take the good things set before them. Once they were satisfied with food and drink…
After identities are established and greetings from mutual friends and family exchanged, then the business of addressing any special needs or transacting any business takes place. After an evening of feasting, sharing stories, and enjoying one another’s company the guest is offered a bed for the night. In a truly generous household the guest has an open invitation to stay as long as necessary, but a sign of tact and good manners is that a guest vacates in a reasonable timeframe, and actually asks leave of his or her host. Before the guest departs the host signifies his or her goodwill through a gift that marks the new relationship. If the traveler has the means a gift is given in exchange, at the very least it’s expected that if/when the current host shows up on the doorstep of the previous guest the whole process will be repeated and at that time a gift of similar value will be given. Reciprocity, treating others as you would want to be treated. This new or renewed relationship carries forward through the generations. Famously, Glaucus and Diomedes stop fighting and exchange armor once they realize their grandfathers had been guests in one another’s homes. Even the Trojan War can’t/shouldn’t break such a bond.
The whole thing is kinda wild. It’s definitely not unique to ancient Greece, I’m personally aware that it shows up in the Norse and Jewish mythologies, and the parables of Jesus carry it into Christianity. I’m sure there’s more. Once again, the reason I bothered to go through the pattern here is that in The Odyssey transgressions of this protocol send clear signals about the character of the guest or host. It’s generally not subtle. The Greeks weren’t naive about the potential risks and abuses of these customs. It’s eye opening to learn the word Xenos, the root of xenia, can be translated as enemy or adversary, foreigner, stranger, guest, host, and friend. Odysseus encounters and actually plays every role on the xenos spectrum in his journeys. I think a claim that The Odyssey serves as a cultural handbook of xenia, its proper execution, red-flags for guests and hosts, and how to deal with those who violate its foundations is not an unreasonable take.
Great, a 500 page lecture on Xenia. Sounds riveting Mark. How does a document so culturally specific possibly garner worldwide acclaim for 2500 years? Albert Einstein reportedly read Emily Post’s guide to etiquette for laughs, why should we care? The primary response is that there’s far more going on in the Epic than just etiquette and social protocol, and the foregrounding of xenia is only a framework for the social interactions of the story. I think that understanding this framework helps me appreciate the big questions Homer examines: What makes an individual or society civilized? What rules or customs are the appropriate boundaries for our ambitions? What marks the successful maturation from child to adulthood? How do we dispense or foster justice? These are big questions with which humans continue to struggle. We often look to inherited wisdom as we work through them in our lives and I think the examples Homer shares in The Odyssey are worth examining.
I originally planned on a thematic approach to the epic, but quickly got derailed and ultimately landed on sharing my thoughts on the main characters. I’ll start with Telemachus and how I believe his story fits a prototypical hero’s journey with an unconventional twist. Next I’ll extoll the merits of bringing both skepticism and empathy to our relationship with Odysseus. Finally I consider the most enigmatic member of the family: Penelope.
I’ll try to keep each essay under 10,000 words, but I’m not making any promises.
MaximumKungFu 